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wearywinchester · 1 year ago

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Wrong Turn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight with Dean leads you to take a breather, what was supposed to be a quick walk turns into something more.

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi <3 Can you write a Dean x Reader, they are in a relationship but they have a nasty fight one night, reader goes outside for a walk to take a breath but there is a storm and it's raining bad and she just gets lost and Dean freaks out when she doesn't come back? Angst and fluff please.”

Warnings: angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of blood, injury, anxiety, fluff

Tempers were well beyond their limit, a seemingly ongoing theme of the entirety of that day, stretching all the way through to that evening. Dean’s anger was never a surprise, not when it came to those that he held closest to himself. He can’t help it, never could. He gets himself so tightly wound with the ever growing desire to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone no further than arms length. He gets himself so worked up that he bursts, let’s that anger gush out of him in bouts of swearing and strings of words he almost always regrets later.

Tonight was no exception, not even close. It just might’ve been the worst fight the two of you have had in quite some time.

“I can’t believe you,” Dean says behind you, the motel door slamming shut faster than you can turn around to see him shove it closed with his boot.

“Believe what, that I did my job?” You say.

He was fuming, you could hear it in his voice. It was gruff and his words were sharp, an edge to it that wasn’t present most of the time. There was no humor, voice of that sweeter side you’ve always loved. It was filled with anger and frustration, deepened with irritation.

He chuckled, empty and humorless at the words that fell from your mouth and into the tense space. Did your job. To him, that was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you could’ve ever said in your life given the context. The stupidest even.

That chuckle was so beyond bitter as he looked at you with a narrowed stare, those beautiful green eyes the angriest you’d ever seen them. Not at all soft as they most often were, not at all gazing at you with an adoration you can never ever fathom comes from looking at you. That loving gaze is replaced with the utmost of frustration as he stares you down, brows knit together.

“Doing your job? That’s what you’re calling it?” He says, laughter in his words as he tosses his duffel bag on the bed harshly, some of its contents spilling out of the half zippered opening. “Since when is putting your ass on the line to lore a damn monster a ten times stronger than you doing your job?”

You roll your eyes at his words, at the way he raised his voice. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe what you were hearing but that’d be a lie. It was Dean Winchester after all, you expected it.

“We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. Did you think I was just going to sit back and watch it kill somebody else? You would’ve done the same thing if I didn’t beat you to it,” you argue.

His cheeks were tinged a soft shade of pink, only making the freckles spattered on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose all the more noticeable. Dean doesn’t flush, not unless he’s angry, not unless he’s pissed. And there he stands, pink and rosy with his jaw tensed as tight as ever as he looks at you, looks at you till he can’t anymore in an effort to calm himself down.

“I wouldn’t do something that damn stupid,” he says, his gaze returning to you.

“You would and you have, Dean, don’t give me that,” you say, watching his top lip quiver in anger. “Every hunt you do something reckless and stupid and everyone’s supposed to be okay with your self sacrificing way of handling things because you think you’re doing what’s best. You always put your ass on the line in a million and one different ways, but when I do it it’s stupid? That’s a load of crap and you know it, Dean.”

You’ve raised your own voice now, watching his chest rise and fall heavier and heavier as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

“Y/n—”

“No, tell me, Dean. How is that fair?”

“You don’t—”

“How is it fair, Dean?” You’re damn near yelling, body tense and the pit of your stomach filled with a heat that travels to your cheeks, burning hot as you swim in your anger.

“You can’t just go running around painting yourself as bait every chance you get. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting into, and you damn sure don’t know what you’re doing,” he counters, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been in this nightmare of a gig just as long as you have, and I’m still swingin’. Don’t you dare say that I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say.

You’re livid, cheeks on fire as you stare him down, finally thinking to release the handles of your duffel bag that’d been trapped within the tightness of your grasp long enough for your hand to be sweaty, long enough that your fingernails left crescent shaped indentations on your palm.

“God, do you even hear yourself when you talk, Y/n?” There’s that bitter laugh again, humorless as he rubs his hand down his face.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, an action that pulls his gaze back to you.

“Then maybe you should look in the mirror, Dean. Tempting your own fate and looking death right in the face seems to be your thing,” you retort, watching his brows scrunch even tighter together.

His lips part, finger raising to point at you with a slight tremble before it drops back to his side and he’s almost at a loss for words. Almost, as he shakes his head.

“You know what, Y/n? I’m not the one with a damn gash on my forehead. I’m not the one walking around with a torn off piece of my flannel tied around my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not the one walking around, doing a piss poor job hiding a freaking limp because I’m too damn proud to admit I did something stupid. So tell me, Y/n, is it really just my thing?”

Your chest was heaving at this point, whole body trembling with adrenaline as you stare up at him with as much anger as you could muster. You could feel that strain in your throat, that horrid soreness that came with the ever difficult battle to keep that lump from rising and allowing your voice to break. That stupid lump that accompanied the tears that pressed so adamantly behind your eyes that it burned, that it stung.

He had you angry, blood boiling as you stood there in front of him. He was no different, standing there with a jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth would damn near crack. He had a certain anger in his eyes, anger mixed with something you couldn’t quite place as you stared him down for as long as you could muster.

He always knew how to poke and prod, get under your skin. He was stubborn more than anyone you’d ever known, probably more than anyone that could exist. He was Dean Winchester.

“You’re a dick, Dean,” you say, all the venom and hurt you can muster in those four words. As much as you could even though it felt like your throat was on fire. Felt as though barbed wire was woven around it from all the built up pressure of the tears you’re trying to hold back to keep him from seeing.

There’s that laugh again, that same bitter laugh as he hears your words.

“Yeah? You act like you’re so tough, Y/n, like you’re the best damn hotshot hunter there is. You act like you know everything and you sure as hell don’t so get off your damn high horse before you do something even more stupid and get yourself dead.”

He was shouting by this point, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he stared at you with twice the anger than a minute ago and he was only met with the same look. The very same apart from the welled up tears and the wobbly lip you sunk your teeth into to try and hide it the very best you could. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t keep your facade up, not in front of him. You never could. It was damn near impossible as you stood there until you couldn’t anymore, spinning on your heel. You brushed past him, shoulder bumping him and nearly throwing you off balance as you head for the motel door.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone incredulous.

“Away from you. What’s it look like?”

You grab the door handle and can hear him scoff as you swing it open and at first he doesn’t think you’re serious, not as he chuckles and shakes his head, maybe to egg you on even.

He doesn’t think you’re serious even as you slam the door shut behind you, and maybe not even for a few minutes after that. But after that few minutes it doesn’t seem so funny anymore, it never did, especially not when you didn’t walk right back in. He doesn’t think it’s funny when he swings that motel door right back open to find the parking lot empty, the Impala void of your presence—to find you nowhere to be seen.

He stands there for a moment with a clenched jaw, anger pulsing through him that’s rapidly redirecting towards himself. But he simply steps back into the room and slams the door shut behind him so hard it rattled. Ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face.

But he doesn’t move, too steeped in his own anger to go on after you as you walked along by yourself in an effort to cool yourself down.

It was cold out, that steady drizzle still coming down but bearable enough to keep on walking away from that motel and away from the man that’s got you all fired up.

Your cheeks were heated and your heart was still pounding. That horrible pressure behind your eyes of unshed tears had finally broken loose, hot tears rolling and mixing with chilly raindrops on your skin. Your face was scrunched in a way you couldn’t help even if you tried as you let them out, frustratedly wiping them away as if there was still a chance of the older Winchester seeing them.

You loved him, but god, you hated him sometimes. He was too protective for his own good, too angry. He’s got you so wound up you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or never turn back to that motel room again. Or perhaps all three. But you know you’d never actually run off. That may be exactly what you’re doing right now but you’d always find your way back to him.

He’s got a heart of gold but you’re too damn pissed to want to think about that right now.

He’s in that room by himself, Sam in the room next door. He’s in that room stewing in anger and regret for the things he’d said out of that anger. He’s beating himself up for that unshakable habit of saying things he comes to regret. He wants to rip that motel room apart, wants to go looking for you. He wants to do it all but instead he sits on the edge of that squeaky motel bed for a matter of seconds before he gets right back up again, splashing his face off with cool water in the bathroom sink. But instead he stays in that motel room, his remaining anger leaving him spiteful before that guilt trickles in.

It’s cold, damn it’s cold as you walk along the tattered sidewalk. The pavement is cracked and crumbling away at the edges, gravel spilling over from old parking lots you pass by. You’ve got no idea where you’re going, and no idea where you are. Of course you don’t, you’ve never been to this town in your entire life and it’s near in the middle of nowhere.

You were wandering around this little town and it quickly began to feel not so little as you continued on in a direction that surely wasn’t towards that motel.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you were almost too angry to care about your surroundings. So worked up that you felt damn near invincible, didn’t really care about any threats because that anger was enough of a driving force to keep you safe.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, not even a little. Because deep down, under all that anger, you realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a damn idiot that you almost couldn’t bear it. He always did this. He always tried to bench you, to hold you back on hunts. He always tried to jump in and save the day, always stole your thunder. He treated you like some rookie hunter that constantly needs a watchful eye, that constantly needs to be supervised like you don’t know what your doing. He acts like you’re some rookie hunter that couldn’t go two seconds on their own without getting into some life threatening situation.

He acts like it’s the end of the world when you step in, when you do something risky for the sake of keeping people safe. He blows it so far out of proportion, makes it seem like you couldn’t possibly do anything more stupid when he does the same and more. He does the very same every single time without second thought, but when you do it, there’s no greater crime to commit than doing your job.

He was so hypocritical it drove you insane.

You were a mess of emotions, fury and upset knotted in the pit of your stomach. It burned and it sat heavy, made you want to scream till your throat was sore. But you decided against it, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself more than you already felt you were as you walked alone through the empty street.

Your chest felt tight, your frustration having you ready to burst and that even felt like it wouldn’t be relieving enough. It felt like your emotions were too big for you to handle.

You were angry, you were pissed. You felt everything all at once, all of it as the wind picked up. It was more than noticeable as the gusts took your breath away for a moment, distracting you for just a second.

You knew the weather was bound to worsen, you saw the flashes of lightning beyond the street lights. You heard the low rumble of the thunder that followed it. It wasn’t until the drizzle of rain picked up to a steady pour that the storm you knew was brewing was fully there. You were caught outside and damn near lost in the middle of a freaking storm.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean was worried, of course he was. He’d be worried even if there wasn’t a stupid storm letting loose.

God, you hated him sometimes, but you loved him too.

You were stubborn as hell, stubborn enough to let yourself walk along a bit further and doom yourself even more. To keep on going and getting yourself even more lost and upset as the tears on your cheeks mixed with the rain. You walked until you wore yourself down and it took some doing, your anger took some work to wear away as you stomped along.

You walked until you gave in, till you caved.

It’d been who knows how long as you ducked under the overhang of a small store, digging in your pocket for your phone.

12:47 am.

It’d been forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of stubborn spite and being far too angry for your own good. Of being so stuck in your own head you didn’t stop yourself from getting into danger, but maybe that’s just what you do.

You held your phone with a shaky, wet hand, scrolling through your contacts before highlighting Dean’s name. Just the sight of it had your stomach churning, that burst of emotions flooding through you but you hit call anyway, pressing the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t answer right away, a few quiet moments passing.

“Dean—”

“Y/n, where the hell are you?”

“Hello to you too,” you say, and you didn’t even need to see him to know he wasn’t amused.

“Now’s not the time for games,” he says.

“Like you care,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything but he still heard it.

“I called you seven freaking times, Y/n. Don’t tell me that crap,” he says, and you can hear the sheer anger and frustration in his voice, a little impatience mixed in there too.

You pull the phone away for a second, catching that number seven right beside his name. Dammit.

You simply sigh, get all quiet for a moment or two as you stand there with your free arm wrapped around yourself, foot tapping against the wet ground.

“Y/n, where are you?” He reiterates.

You’re still quiet for a second, biting your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, swallowing.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He says incredulously.

“I mean I don’t know, Dean. We’re in a town we’ve never been before in the freaking boonies, what do you think?” You say louder, quieting back down and shrinking back against the wall at your outburst, trying to hide from any unwanted attention.

“Landmarks, Y/n, gimme landmarks,” he says, tone a little softer.

You hum softly as your eyes dart around, searching for the most helpful piece of information you could find.

“Dave’s. Dave’s Bar. Uh…a diner across from it too,” you say, wincing at the sudden crack of thunder.

“I’m on the way. And please, for the love of god, stay put. Don’t go wanderin’ around or I swear I’m gonna freakin’ lose my damn mind,” he says.

“Dean, I—”

There were those three beeps, those familiar three beeps followed by the stupid dead battery symbol. That fear in the pit of your stomach heightened, and you’re banking on Dean’s ability to find his way around because there’s no way in hell you’re stepping foot into that bar to use the phone. That just might be the stupidest thing you could do second to walking out here in anger by yourself in the first place.

That familiar sense of panic settles deep within you, heavy as you bite the inside of your cheek. In a matter of seconds you quickly find that you no longer wanted to storm off and go wherever your feet take you. You no longer wanted to walk farther away, not even a single step. You wanted to do none of that.

You wanted to be inside that Impala where you know it’s safe, hell, you wanted to be in his arms because that’s even safer. But instead you’re stuck outside in dodgy weather all by yourself, with no one to blame but yourself.

You had entirely no idea how far you were from that motel room, let alone where exactly you were. It could have been a much shorter drive for Dean than it was a walk for you, it had to be. But then again, you guys were in a town you’ve never been to, and he could only guess based off the information you gave him.

Worry ran circles in your mind, lap after lap that he wouldn’t find you, not for a while. Or even worse, that by the time he did, you’d have been snatched up by a crazy monster or an even crazier human being.

It made that dizzying feeling send waves through your chest, quickening your heart beat as you paced in the same spot. He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, but you felt like a moving target the more you lingered in the same area. You felt like eyes were on you and you just couldn’t see them. It was unnerving.

He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t.

You sat on the nearby bench before realizing how soaked it was, not that it really mattered. But you stood back up in a huff, lifting your hands to your face and brushing away your wet hair.

You did something stupid, of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. Sure, getting some fresh air was always a good idea when arguing, gives a chance to cool off and clear your head. But not in the middle of the night when a damn thunderstorm is about to break loose.

You were being reckless, thinking in the heat of the moment and acting on it as people so often do. As Dean so often does. You dug your own grave and now you have to lay in it as you stand there with chattering teeth and your arms wrapped around yourself to maintain the non existent warmth you had in your body.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like damn decades until you saw headlights. You didn’t dare draw attention to yourself in the event that it wasn’t Dean—he was incredibly observant, he’d see you without it.

But you heard a distinct three honks of a familiar horn, and that relief settles over you once more. He pulls a u-turn in the middle of the wide road, stopping along the curb right in front of you as he leans over the bench seat to look at you.

He sees that look on your face, he sees your stance, he knows you’re not going to make this easy for him, he knows. You’re stubborn as hell and he loved it and hated it all the same. Hated it in moments like this.

He knows, so he does himself a favor and gets out of the car and into the pouring rain.

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like you actually listened to me,” he says, looking at his surroundings, the very same ones you’d mentioned to him on that phone call.

You hadn’t strayed too far just like he’d asked you to, you stayed put.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a larger than life huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, and that expression he’s got is far less than humored as he narrows his eyes at you. He could tell you’d still be difficult, no matter how scared or upset or truly bothered you were, you’d always be difficult first because being stubborn is what you know best. Didn’t want to show how vulnerable you were, how vulnerable you are.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get in the car, sweetheart? It’s cold and this storm ain’t going anywhere,” he says, a hint of demanding in his voice.

“Then go back to the motel if you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sure can find my way back,” you counter, brows knit together.

“Like hell you can,” he nearly yells, his frustration evident. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.”

“I’m not being stupid, Dean,” you say, equal anger in your tone.

“Yeah, you are, Y/n. You went wandering off in the dinky town we know nothing about in the middle of the night, and you got yourself lost in a storm. You’re damn lucky I found you before some monster, or even worse, some creep, got their hands on you. So yes, Y/n, you’re being stupid,” he shouts, that vein in his neck bulging and his chest heaving lightly.

“Go away, Dean.”

That’s all you could manage to say, all you could muster. You meant absolutely none of it, not at all, but that stubbornness in you was hard to resist.

“Y/n, just get in the damn car before I make you do it myself, and you know I will,” he says, a clear warning in his words.

You simply stare at him, you stand there and stare at him across the roof of the Impala as the rain continues to pour all around you, the wind making everything all the more intense.

You stood there and watched the crease between his brows, one created from your stubbornness and his frustration. You watched as the rain had his hair sticking to his forehead, no longer spiked up or disheveled from the sheer amount of times he’s run his fingers through it in the past two hours.

You stand there as the wind and the rain sends chills over you, cold and constant. He looks like his last fuse is about to blow, and he knows what you’re doing. He doesn’t give a damn about the weather, couldn’t care less now that he knows you’re in one piece, not lost in the middle of a storm. But he knows what you’re doing.

You’re so damn stubborn, so angry at him that you don’t want to listen, even if it’s inconveniencing you. You’re so frustrated, the last thing you want to do is sit a mere two feet away from him for who knows how long. It’s the last thing you want but yet it’s the only thing you want.

Not just because you were cold and wet and miserable. Not just because you were tired and in the midst of a freaking storm. He made you so damn pissed but you could deny the comfort that settled over you. Hell, is washed through you, rushed.

You didn’t want to listen to him, purely out of spite, not as you stand there and look at that expression he’s got. But yet that’s all you want to do.

After another passing moment, you exhale a short huff and open the door, getting in the car without a word.

The leather seats squeaked as you did, as Dean did, your soaked clothing making it inevitably so. The heat you felt from the vents was immediate, comforting in contrast to the cold weather just outside. And it wasn’t long before he sped off.

You sat pressed up against the door and he very much noticed, was about ready to say something but he decided against it for this moment. Kept his tight, white knuckled grip on the wheel instead. But that didn’t keep him from glancing over at you more often than not.

He could feel you shivering, even if you insisted on sitting as far from him as you could. In reality, you wanted nothing more than to tuck yourself against him, but that spite you’ve got going on was still going.

You looked ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous sitting there like that acting as if he had the damn plague. Acting like you didn’t absolutely love the idiot sitting 3 feet away when it really could have been just one or two. You looked stupid and you knew it, you knew he knew it too.

“You gonna glue yourself to the door the whole way back to Bobby’s too?” He asks.

Exhibit A.

You exhale a huff, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Maybe,” you say, stubborn as ever.

You hear his quiet scoff, you know he’s shaking his head without even seeing him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/n,” he says, glancing over at you briefly to see just how tightly your brows were scrunched.

“Shut up, Dean,” you say, quiet but he very much heard it.

He only shook his head, chuckling to himself quietly but this time it wasn’t completely void of humor. You were ridiculous.

You noticed how he turned the vent towards you, then you noticed how all of them were. Never mind the fact that he may have been cold. He pointed all the damn things towards you and that alone had you wavering.

No, you couldn’t. Couldn’t just give in so easily to that green eyed fool because he’d get all smug, let it go to his head. No matter how your heart skipped a beat, no matter how sweet the gestures were, one’s he did without second thought because he would always put you first.

No matter the cause, no matter the situation, he put you first every single time without hesitation. Doesn’t matter if it’s walking closest to the street when walking, or giving you the last beer. No matter if it’s giving you his jacket in the cold or ripping a damn piece of his flannel off to bandage you, even if it was his favorite one. He always put you first.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you’d give in too easily. Couldn’t let him have that satisfaction because you may be ridiculous, but you you stubborn too.

What you could do, however, was scoot a little closer. Just a little bit, then a little more, and maybe you’d be damn near pressed to his side until you finally are.

“Think better of it?” He asks, and you hear that amusement in his tone.

You simply huff, displeasure on your expression as you glare up at him.

“Just cold, don’t get too excited,” you grumble, resting your head back on his shoulder as you cross your arms around yourself.

Just cold.

You were quiet the rest of the drive back to the motel, the drive that wound up being twenty minutes. Seemed like nothing, like a quick trip in a vehicle. But to walk, it felt like it was infinitely longer.

That familiar motel came into view as Dean slowed down, swinging into the small lot and right back into the same parking spot as he’d been in just hours prior.

It was still raining, still heard rumbles of thunder after flashes of lightning. The wind still blew against the car and swayed it faintly, the culmination of all three proving to be less than inviting for you to want to get out of the warmth and safety of the car and into the elements, even if it was just for a few fleeting seconds.

You scooted away from Dean as he dug in his pocket, fishing around for the motel key. He pulled it out with a smal a-ha, something that had you rolling your eyes as you push open the door.

It was quite a cold shock, actually, the weather a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Impala. But luckily Dean was just as urgent with getting inside the room as you were, though you still released your exhale just as loudly.

You can tell he’s not a fan of that action, not one bit as his jaw tenses momentarily and maybe even an eye roll. But it’s a matter of seconds before he pushes open the door.

It looks just as you left it, duffel bag on the bed, a few clothing items strewn about it in an effort to find something to wear. Though you were mid argument at the time, the action proving to be pointless and it showed.

Dean’s bag was in the same spot, unzipped and rifled through as it sat on the floor next to the bed still.

It was much warmer and much more dry than the inclement weather just on the outside of that door. But it was still tense. It was still tense and moody and damn near suffocating just as it was in the car, just as it was out in the storm. That was something that motel room couldn’t take away.

You brush past him in a huff, feeling his eyes on you as you made your way to the bathroom. You don’t care—he can look at you all he wants. He can glare, can furrow his brows, he can look as moody as he’d like but you don’t care. You most certainly do, but you’re stubborn enough to not want that to show.

You switch on the light, it’s yellow glow illuminating the small room. This is the first time you’d really seen yourself since this morning. The gash on your face, how tired you looked. How swollen your eyes were from crying, how rain soaked you were.

You looked exactly how you felt, and your reflection only made you more upset.

You were so worked up, so out of sorts, you left the bathroom all together in the huff that you entered it in. Just as upset as a few minutes ago, passing by Dean in the very same way as the first time.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He didn’t say anything as he stood there and watched you, hands paused from what they were doing digging around in his bag. It wasn’t until you began digging in yours that he spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, something more than curiosity in his tone. Something that sparked your frustration.

“Getting ready for bed, what’s it look like, Dean?” You counter, discontent in your tone as you speak.

“So you’re just gonna neglect your wounds like it didn’t happen and go to bed?” He says.

“Yes, Dean, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You continue to rummage through your belongings, not fully knowing what you were looking for in your anger until you spotted a shirt to sleep in. Of course it was one of Deans—you haven’t worn your own clothes to bed for quite a long while. It wasn’t going to change just because you were fighting like cats and dogs.

You dug around some more in search of your toothbrush, snagging your hand on something sharp enough to make you recoil as it brushes over your wound. You knew he saw it, of course he did. He saw most everything.

“Y/n,” he says.

You don’t respond, instead shrugging off your coat, letting it fall to the floor in a rain soaked pile, you shirt soon to follow. You could tell he was growing impatient again.

You sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie your boots, careless and rough with your actions. So careless that you gripped them with your frustration to toss them inside rather than kick them off like you normally do, the action sending jolt through your palm once more. It was a crippling wave of pain, one that had you sucking a sharp gasp through your teeth as you jerked your hand back

“Y/n,” he said, louder this time.

“What?” You ask, your annoyance evident in your tone.

“Would you calm down for a second?” He says.

“I am calm, Dean.”

He laughs again, the humor far from it once again as he looks at you.

“No, you’re not. You’re too damn busy huffing and puffing that you’re bangin’ yourself up even more than you already are!” He all but shouts.

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just a freaking scratch, Dean,” you yell, holding up your hand. It wasn’t until you looked at it, saw the fresh staining of blood on the scrap piece of flannel that you knew you were in for it. “Son of a bitch.”

“Bathroom. Now,” he says.

You look back at him.

“I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Bathroom,” he says.

You simply look at him for a moment or two, the very same way you did earlier when he asked you to get in the car. You look at him and see he’s not backing down, that he’s not kidding. So you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, brushing past him again and bumping him with your shoulder.

You can be pissed at him all you want, he didn’t care. He was patching you up no matter how much you fought him on it because he always did, and he always will.

You walk back in the bathroom with a short huff, the older Winchester right behind you.

“Have a seat.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what to do, Dean.”

“Apparently you do.”

You glare at him, hopping up onto the counter anyway. You could tell another comment was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he chose against saying anything further on the subject.

He set the first aid kit down, flipping open its lid. His hand hovered over it for a few passing moments, as he looked over everything, pulling out the roll of bandage and the antiseptic, grabbing a moderate stack of gauze from its compartment.

He set everything down and laid it out on the counter before returning his focus to you. He grabbed your hand gently, so very gentle in contrast to his temper. He held your hand in his and turned it so your palm faced upwards. He let go momentarily to untie the knot in the fabric around it, requiring a little extra work from how tight he’d fastened it earlier. But soon enough he got it, loosening it up.

When he pulled away the fabric to reveal a nasty scratch that’d been plenty smudged with crimson, you lifted your gaze to see his expression. You saw the tension in his jaw, saw the way his brows pulled together in displeasure. You saw it all while you felt the gentle caress of his thumb over the heel of your hand.

He got caught up in staring for a few more moments, noticeably so, and he cleared his throat. He snagged some gauze and the bottle of antiseptic, opening the plastic cap with a flick of his thumb. He tipped the bottle over and squirted the clear liquid on the gauze, grabbing your hand once more.

He looked at you briefly, long enough to make sure you met his gaze as if to offer a wordless warning. He drizzled some of it directly on your hand, the sensation cold and stinging almost immediately and you half make an attempt to pull from his grasp but he tightens around your wrist gently, just enough to let you know he wouldn’t let you recoil.

He waited a few moments before taking the dampening gauze and dabbing away the excess liquid, tossing the dirtied material aside in favor of grabbing fresh ones.

Your hand was tender as he wiped away the blood, making sense of what he was working with ones he got it more cleaned up. It was red and irritated, hand throbbing from all the fuss and handling of it that you so desperately wanted to be over. So much so you began to squirm and continue to try and recoil.

It was no use.

You were relieved to see he’d been done with the liquid torment, for now at least, grabbing the roll of bandage. He’d laid down fresh, dry gauze first, peeling back the edge of the roll before he began wrapping it around your hand. He was gentle throughout the process, gentle despite being so horribly the opposite just hours earlier. He’d always take care of you.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage for a few moments, his gaze shifting to your cheek. You knew what was coming next.

“Dean, I can take care of the rest,” you interject, watching him nearly roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I didn’t ask you to either.”

You huff once again and roll your eyes, looking the other way when he grabbed more dampened gauze from the counter.

You felt his finger under your chin, redirecting your gaze to him so he could see better. You struggled to keep from moving, the anticipated pain having you trying to get yourself situated, shying away from that damn antiseptic in hopes he’d just call it a day.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Dammit, Y/n, would you hold still?” He says, patience thin as he rests his hand on your cheek and redirects your gaze once more.

You heave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little bit as you allow him to, eyes narrowed as you look up at him with all the annoyance you could muster. You didn’t want to hold still, you wanted to dig your heels in and do the exact opposite of everything he said. You wanted to piss him off even more because you were still angry, still upset with him.

You gave it a valiant attempt, tried your hardest and it lasted you a little while as you sat there on that counter. But with the way he’d been cradling your face in his hand, the way his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek almost absentmindedly. It was hard to keep your irritation in place.

“He really gotcha good, huh sweetheart?” He asks, tone much softer than moments ago but that anger was still very much there. Not at you, but at the damn thing that put its hands on his sweetheart.

It’s like a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy as a damn boulder there, getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute the more he allows himself to think about what happened, what could have happened.

He always does that to himself. Always keeps himself up at night. Lays there and let’s one scenario after the next plague his mind on things that could happen to you, things that could happen to Sammy. Things that could happen on his watch, trying to figure out ways to prevent said imaginary things to happen so he’s prepared for anything and everything. Things that could happen when he’s not there, even just for a split second. Those were the things that bothered him the most. Drove him insane till he got this tightness in his chest that had him nearly bursting at the seams.

He gets himself so worked up on those nights, all while you’ve got your head on his chest and you’re sound a sleep, not a care in the world for a few hours time. He envied it, how at peace you were, but it’s all he wants for you, helps loosen that tightness in his chest knowing you’re at ease. At ease while he lays there and torments himself with what ifs and things that didn’t even happen, things that might never happen.

Dean Winchester might seem calm, cool, and collected under the pressure of this hunting life. He might seem like he’s got everything under control at all times, got a plan for everything, a solution. And most of the time, he does. But he’s also got himself so wound up on the future way far ahead of him that it renders him anxious and stressed more often than not.

You simply shrug at the question. “S’alright.”

There’s that infamous eye roll he gives, that anger building once more at your nonchalance of the situation. It’s part of what’s got him so angry that night to begin with. You act like you don’t care when you really do, act like everything’s fine and that it’s just part of the job. It is, but getting hurt like that, hell, even getting just a simple scratch. To him—that’s purely like a nightmare when it comes to you.

He couldn’t care less how banged up and bruised he got, but when it comes to Sammy, when it comes to you, he gets so damn pissed he can hardly see straight.

“No, it’s not,” he says, dabbing away the remnants of blood smudging around it on your forehead.

You’re half tempted to argue in response, tell him he’s being dramatic. But you’d only be poking the bear, something you’d done the entirety of that night. But that look on his face, painted with worry and fear, you saw it and didn’t have the heart to poke and prod at him, at least not in this moment.

So you settle for a deep sigh, looking up at him while his other hand still rests on your cheek. You know part of him is being a little dramatic, you know he doesn’t need to get so tightly wound on scenarios that didn’t even happen, but pointing it out would do no good.

He drops his hand in favor of digging through his first aid kit. It’s always fully stocked, nearly jam packed to the gills with just about anything you could imagine. At every hunt he’ll stop at a gas station in whatever town you’re in, buy a box of bandages, supplies, anything he thinks he may need. He’s got this paranoia of running out, this worry he doesn’t have enough in the event of an emergency. But that worry is something he keeps to himself.

He pulls out three closure strips, tearing open their packaging. He’s careful in the way we places them, wants them to be damn near perfect, wants to add as little pain as possible to the pain he’s sure you’re feeling. Just the idea makes him riled up and angry at the thought of you hurting.

He dabs away any additional blood that formed, that cut looking a little better now that it’d been properly taken care of, leaving it to look a little red and angry after having been touched.

You continue to sit there on that counter as he cleans up, tossing the trash in the small bin on the floor right next to it. He can feel you staring, of course he can. He can feel it and confirms it when he turns back to you.

He averts his gaze for a moment as he grabs ahold of your hand, gently as his eyes glance over the fresh bandage. That very hand his shaky as it rests in his palm, his thumb brushing over the heel of it as a wordless for me of comfort.

You can see the way his jaw tenses as he looks at it, at the way his brows crease and knit together. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, working on overdrive and you know he’s thinking about what happened that day. And it’s almost as if he can read your thoughts, tearing his gaze away as if to clear his mind, shake away his own thoughts before he looks at you.

His gaze is still narrowed with that anger, but it’s quick to soften just a little when he meets your eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, swinging your dangling feet once or twice when you bump his leg with your foot.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, not so much in a stubborn, dismissive way this time.

His brows pull closer together again at the words, words he doesn’t agree with, but there’s that damn smile of yours. Soft and sweet, a little humor behind it because you’re trying to lighten the mood. All he can do is look at you, look at that small grin and wonder how he got so lucky to have you looking at him like that.

You reach up and swipe your thumb along his chin, wiping away the smudge of dirt that was smeared there. But you didn’t drop your hand, pressing your thumb in the soft dimple in his chin before you caress his cheek softly, letting your hand settle there.

You can feel his stubble scratch under your palm, can feel the tension in his jaw. But you can also feel it subside as the tips of your fingers brush over his hair as they rest at the nape of his neck. He may have been your tough guy, may have been rough around the edges, but nothing could compare to the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. As he responded to your touch in the gentlest way possible.

It worked wonders to sooth his anger, anger that still lingered and threatened to build up and tighten in his chest if he thought about that day one more damn time.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He heaved a heavy sigh, breath smelling like the burger he’d had for dinner, and the beer he’d drank to wash it down.

His nose bumped against yours, and you can feel his unease without even looking at him, you know there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, quiet as his breath puffs against your lips with each word.

You’re silent for a moment or two, something that maintains that unease he feels. Because he knows he gets angry, so damn angry that he acts like a jerk. Says things to piss you off in the heat of an argument. He knows it.

But it’s quick to ease when he feels your lips on his, soft and gentle, something he wastes no time in leaning into as he kisses you a little harder. He basks in every last bit that that kiss lingers, parting momentarily as his breath brushes against your lips warmly before kissing you again once, twice, three more times.

He can’t help but steal another as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter with a grip on your hips, pulling back just enough to see your face.

You see every freckle, every single one, speckled across the bridge of his nose and splayed over his cheeks. Dotting along his eyelids and disappearing up into his eyebrows. You see the one that sits in his top lip, one that you never fail to press a kiss to, this time being no different.

You see the soft creases by his eyes, the near permanent lines of worry between his brows. You see every single detail up close and personal as you sit there and stare at him. And the way he runs his hand along your rain dampened hair, brushing it out of your face, it’s the only thing that distracts you and pulls your attention.

“Guess I’m sorry too,” you say, that humor in your tone making him roll his eyes. But the meaning, the sincerity is very much there and he knows it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Hey!” You protest, hopping down from the counter with a fake frown that threatens to turn to a smile, even more so when he turns to look at you with raised brows. “Am I at least your pain in the ass?”

He pretends to ponder the question long and hard, lips puckered in thought as he stands there and watches you grow impatient and lightheartedly offended.

You’re about ready to scoff when he steps closer, hand reaching up to settle at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair softly.

“Always have been, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips against yours.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20 @wandering-winchesters @senjoritanana

#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction

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rainydayathogwarts · 1 year ago

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hi ml! was wondering if i could req a ron x popular!shy!reader? like his friends tease him because they don’t know how he landed her and they think she’s the more outspoken and dominant one but in reality he is and makes her flustered 24/7:) maybe smut if you want but no pressure! thank you <33

So apparently I'm in my Ron era Warnings: Hinting to bi reader, suggestive This isn’t as good as i wanted it to be but enjoy!

You turn to your close friend Hannah when Professor Snape gives the go ahead to start your potions, giving her a look and you both look down into your textbooks to hide your wide grins and bubbling giggles.

"Why hasn't he yelled at us once today though?" Hannah whispers, heading to the ingredient cabinets with you on her heels. "Probably got some head or something." You respond with a shrug only to have Hannah scoff and mutter a quiet "Right" which causes you both to erupt with laughter at the back of the classroom.

"Ladies! Is it necessary for me to tell you to shut it every. Single. Class." Snape roars from the front, his face turning red when you only break down even more at the irony, both of you turning to lean on something.

"That's enough! Ten points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!" Your hand flew over your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, your laughter only ceasing when a harsh kick on the back of your leg is delivered by Hermione.

"Oh no please keep it up, you'll only make it easier for Slytherin to win the house cup this year." Pansy states, winking at you as she walks back to her table. Hannah shuffles closer to you, whispering "I bet she has the fattest crush on you. And don't forget her little friends over there."

You look back at Hannah, jokingly flicking your hair over your shoulder. "After that kiss in third year? Of course she has a crush on me." You both sit down at your table, and you start sorting out the ingredients as Hannah flicks through her textbook to find the right page. "Hey Lav? What page is the potion on?" You ask the girl facing you, who stutters as she tells you the number.

Thanking her, you manage to catch the eye of your boyfriend across the room, noticing his other friends glancing at you and you tilt your head, smiling softly at him. He looks down so you avert your gaze, instead starting to chop up some fluxweed seeds.

On the other side of the classroom, Seamus Finnigan mimics your movements rather clumsily as he wanders off into a conversation with the other boys on the table "No you don't understand, every guy in the school wants her and every girl wants to be her. So how did you manage to get her? You don't know how to talk to pretty girls."

"He was probably seduced." Chimes in Dean nonchalantly. "She charmed him hard enough that he got in bed and let her ride him until sun down. She was satisfied with what she saw and decided to keep him around." They all look up, starting to chuckle at Ron's reaction, and add onto the teasing until Neville looks like he's about to explode.

Ron feels his cheeks go ablaze and he looks up, watching you smile at something Hannah said. As much as he wanted to flaunt the fact that he was the one to approach you, he knew that your popularity painted you as a maneater. No one would believe him. Even as he walks up to you at the end of class, offering you his hand, he feels the boys’ eyes on you both, ignoring the rosy colour that appears on your cheeks. You giggle, taking Ron’s hand, and together you walk down to the Great Hall for lunch.

You sit next to Ron with his friends listening to Harry, who brings up the topic of romance once more, complaining about his failed attempts to ask Cho out. He looks at you and asks “How do I just ask her? I’ve backed out every single time.” You shrug, pointing at your boyfriend “Ask Ron, he was perfectly fine making the first move on me.”

Your response brings an unusual silence within the friend group. “Ron? Ron made the first move?” Hermione finally says, which brings alive a lot of questions from the surrounding teenagers.

“Wait I don’t understand… You guys didn’t think I was the one who came onto him did you??” You interrupt, feeling your face start to heat up again. “Yes we did!” States Seamus “This whole time you’ve been the popular girl who for some reason went for this thick in the head ginger! But he’s the one who charmed you… I see now.”

Ron scoffs and shakes his head, pushing his drink away from him and he stands up, offering you his hand once more. You take it, following him, and shrug at Hermione who gives you a questioning look.

“I’m sorry about them, but i think i have something that can distract you from their questions.” You hum, cocking one head to the side. “And what would that- Oh!” You squeal as Ron pulls you into an abandoned broom closet, firmly pressing his lips to yours, as you shyly place your hands on his chest, pushing him away from you. “You couldn’t wait could you?” You question him, gently pulling him back in, but it’s only when he presses himself against you that you understand why.

#ron wealsey x y/n #ron wealsey #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley smut #ron weasley #harry potter oneshot #harry potter angst #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #golden trio era #golden trio #hogwarts #shy!reader #rainydayathogwarts

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yesihaveaobsession · 6 months ago

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Beautiful Crazy

Alastor x female reader x Rosie

Summary: Alastor brings you to meet the one and only Rosie! But she can't help but tease the deer demon about his crush on the reader (you).

A/N- Got another request! Asking for an Alastor x Rosie and Rosie teases him about his crush on the reader so! Here you have it ALSO for those supernatural peeps like me I'm thinking about writing a fic about how the reader (y'all) lose your memory and Alastor has to watch over y'all (Like in Regarding Dean) :D

Anyways! I hope y'all enjoy, ALSO...

(Request: @pepperthebi-spy)

You were now linked arm in arm with Alastor, walking down the streets of Hell. He wanted you to meet a very good friend of his. You soon found yourself in Cannibal Town. It was very new to you, so you took everything in, despite the name. It seemed calm and nice. Alastor watched as you absorbed everything while you two walked, his smile never faltering.

"This looks surprisingly nice?" you asked as you looked up at him. "Isn't it though? And it's all thanks to a very special someone." You thought to yourself, surprised that he actually had friends. Not to be rude, but it surprised you because the vibes he gave off at the hotel were much different from when the two of you were walking.

Alastor opened the door for you, and you thanked him politely. You then entered 'Rosie's Emporium.' She was behind the counter trying to sell finger lipstick to a younger woman. That's when her eyes landed on you two. She gasped and rounded from behind the counter, which was stacked with jarred pickled appendages. "Alastor!" she said cheerfully, and they hugged. Weird, he doesn't like being touched, you thought. After they hugged, Rosie's eyes landed on you.

"Well, darling, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" she greeted you with her grin widening as she pinched your cheeks. Then she straightened back up and placed her hands on her hips. "And who might this fine specimen be?" She called you pretty. Alastor, who was watching all of this go on with a closed-lipped smile and almost hooded eyes, with his cane and arms behind his back, his gaze flickered over towards you. A subtle warmth danced in his eyes. "Ah, this delightful creature is my companion for the day, Y/N," Alastor said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

That's when Rosie's expression became curious, and she walked over. She noticed the warmth in Alastor's eyes. "Oh? And what an interesting pair you are, too," she said, leaning in to get a closer look at you. You felt pressured for some reason, so you decided to look around at the stocked shelves. Rosie straightened up again with a playful glint.

"Do you mind if I look around? I see some interesting stuff here I might want to try." You smiled, and Rosie nodded. You then looked over at Alastor and excused yourself from the conversation.

"Oh, I see how it is," Rosie teased, her voice dropping to a whisper and covering it so you wouldn't see. "Alastor here's got himself a crush, don't he?" Alastor's smile faltered ever so slightly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "My dear Rosie, you know how rumors tend to spread like wildfire in this town."

The corner of her mouth curled upward in a sly smile. "Oh, come on, I know that look. It's clear as the sunlit day that there's something special going on." She elbowed him in a teasing way. Alastor really likes you; you see, ever since you came to the hotel, you soon became close friends with The Radio Demon. He was surprised at first that you didn't find him intimidating, but that soon led to a crush on you, which he kept to himself.

Alastor took his arms and cane from behind his back and put it out in front of him. He cleared his throat, his cheeks slowly turning a brighter tint of pink as he was clearly caught off-guard by Rosie's persistent teasing. He wasn't used to it. "Alright," his voice dropped an octave and seemed to lose his radio static for a second. "Maybe I'm quite fond of the girl." He admitted, and Rosie gasped and giggled, getting all giddy just like how Charlie would if he had told her.

Rosie's laughter brought a genuine smile to Alastor's face as he let out a soft chuckle. "There, ain't that much sweeter than sugar?" Rosie asked with a smug grin. That's when you came back over with a jarred of something. You weren't sure what it was, but that didn't stop you.

"Excuse me, what is this?" You asked, holding it up to Rosie. She inspected it and told you that it was jarred toes and that those were a big hit in her shop, also telling you the price. "$4.55, but it's on the house," she said, and your eyes lit up as Rosie looked back over at Alastor, then back at you trying to hide her smile.

"So, am I missing anything important?"

"Well, I," Alastor began, but that's when your phone buzzed. "This might be Charlie, pardon me, I'll be back." You left to go answer the phone call, and it was Charlie who said she needed the two of your back.

"So, are you going to tell her?" Rosie asked. "I- I don't know," Alastor replied, his ears flopping down slightly then perching back up.

"Do it, you won't regret it," she spoke. "Let me know if you need help." Rosie squealed in excitement. That soon came to an end when you walked back into the little shop.

"So, when's the wedding." Rosie teased., you walked back into the little shop.

"Hey Al, Charlie needs us back at the hotel," you spoke. He noticed the little nickname, and his heart went fleeing inside but only let out a nod and twirled his cane. He looked over at Rosie and kissed her hand as he then linked arms with you as you two made your way back to the hotel to help the Princess of Hell. He needed to plan accordingly to tell you, but how was he going to do it?

Dancing? A nice dinner? Whatever it was, he was going to have to up his game, and he's going to have to do it quickly. He doesn't want to lose the chance with such a beautiful creature like you.

#Spotify #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #i have an obsession #hazbin hotel rosie

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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year ago

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A Good Father

Dad!Dean Winchester X Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary: Dean has a beautiful wife and the cutest little girl. The perfect family. Maybe it's time to have a real home, too.

Part 2 of A Good Man but can be read as a standalone. This is actually how supernatural ended thank you very much

Warnings: not much, candy cane fluff, foul language. Still minors dni cause I don't want minor on my blog

WC: 2.6k

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. Why not post it right? I love Dean with all my heart. That's nothing new. Enjoy the teeth rooting fluff cause I don't have the mental capacity to write smut rn :,)

Sleep still covered your eyes as you rubbed them softly. It couldn't have been later than six a.m., or at least what you saw through half-closed eyes on your phone screen when you woke up. You weren't fully sure, you were still processing that you were awake. You hadn't entirely wanted to get out of bed, but the lack of your husband's warmth all but forced you out of the comfort of your covers. Your feet took you to the study first. That's normally where you would find the brothers anyway. But you only saw Sam.

"Morning." You mumbled softly, running a hand over your face as you walked over to the younger Winchester.

Sam lifted his eyes from the ancient looking book in front of him, and he gave you a warm smile.

"Oh, hey, good morning."

You stood beside him, leaning a hand on the table as you looked around for Dean with a small frown.

"Where's your brother?"

"In the kitchen with Rosie. She woke up like an hour ago, so he's making her breakfast." He answered with a smile.

Your own lips irked up in pleasant surprise. Normally, Rosalie— yours and Dean's little girl— would come running to wake you— or both you and Dean, depending who was home at the time. You never minded that she would be up before you since Sam was always up before sunrise, and he loved spending time with his niece. But it did surprise you a bit that Dean didn't wake you at all this morning. Though, you were more so in awe at the fact that he had decided to take care of her that morning by himself.

Truth was, he had been gone a while, almost a week. That had been the longest he had spent on a hunt ever since she was born— five years ago. And your little girl was definitely missing her dad. She loved you, no doubt about it, but the little one was a daddy's girl for sure, but you blamed Dean for spoiling her so much. So she was feeling his absence greatly. She cried almost every night, asking why daddy wasn't there to tuck her in. It broke your heart a hundred times over to see her so heartbroken. When Dean came home last night, she all but clung to him, refusing to leave his side. And you guessed that had carried over to this morning.

"Thanks, Sam." You patted his shoulder and padded through the long halls of the bunker to the kitchen. You held in your breath as you peaked your head through the door and you nearly teared up at the sight.

"You think mommy and Sammy will like these?" Dean pursed his lips, nudging at the tiny human resting on his hip as three different pans with pancake batter, sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs cooked on the stove.

"Uh-huh. It looks yummy." She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as he held her.

"Yeah, sure does." Dean shrugged, lips pulled into a proud grin at his own work. He always was a great cook.

He stood for a second, keeping an eye on one thing as he moved around another with a spatula and still somehow held a five year-old on his hip. He had his attention somewhere else, so he almost missed the tiny voice in his ear.

"I missed you, daddy." Rosie mumbled, her soft voice almost inaudible against him. Dean looked down at her, his eyes slightly big and his lips parted. He stared at her for a long second before he said anything. He was wondering just what the fuck he ever did to deserve something like this.

"I… I missed you too, baby. Always." He sighed out, his chest aching with an indescriptible feeling as he brushed some loose strands behind her ear, and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

You were silent for a long minute, lips slightly parted and eyes filled with awe as you leaned against the doorframe to watch the sight in front of you. Dean, still in his pajamas, with his little girl on his hip as he cooked. He was saying something to her, or so you figured since you heard her giggles, her tiny hands bunched around his t-shirt as she buried her face in his shoulder. He was smiling too.

"I'm deeply hurt. Making breakfast without me?" You spoke up, feigning hurt.

Dean turned around, he smiled at you at first but when Rosie started giggling at you, hiding deeper into his chest, he gritted his teeth.

"Ah, busted. Told you mommy would find out." He shook his head, holding back a smile as you approached them.

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. He gave you a shrug with a toothy smile that showed the edges of his canines, and he gave you that innocent puppy dog look. You groaned out.

"We'll talk later." You warned, but your tone was playful. You finally slipped a smile as you stood on the tip of your toes to give Dean a kiss on the lips. He happily leaned down to meet you halfway. And then you kissed your little girl, leaving kisses all over her tiny face.

She giggled, nearly jumping out of her dad's arms into yours. Dean happily passed her over to you, his hip starting to get numb. You held her happily, pressing a kiss to the mess of her bedhead. God, the more this one grew, the more she looked like Dean. The same green eyes, the same freckled cheeks. But she had your nose, and her hair was a shade darker than Dean's, closer to Sam's brown. But you knew that she would be the spitting image of her dad when she grew older.

"Did you help daddy make breakfast?" You asked Rosie, and she nodded excitedly.

"Yeah! I helps daddy make pancakes." You gasped, lips parted to share her excitement.

"Those are gonna be the yummiest of pancakes, right sweetheart?" Dean leaned down, nudging her cheek with his finger. She nodded.

"Alright, little one, go sit with Sammy, we'll bring you out some pancakes, okay?" You told the little girl, and she nodded again, mumbling an 'okay'. You smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before you set her down her tiny feet. She had spent her whole short life in this bunker. You were sure she could find her way around the general area.

"Tell Sammy he's a nerd for me." Dean called out to Rosie as she ran off, chanting that her uncle Sammy was a nerd. Dean was smiling proudly to himself. He was raising her right.

"You're an ass." You playfully scolded him, and he gave you a look of feign innocence. He shrugged at you.

"I ever tell you how beautiful you look in the morning?" He irked his lips at you, resting his hands on your hips as he pulled you close. God he had missed you so fucking much.

"Missed you, too, hun." You leaned up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He tried to hide it, muffle the sound, but he winced when your hand touched his cheek.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you immediately pulled back to look at his face. You hadn't noticed the red bruise on his cheek, on the purple bruising around his eye. You gasped quietly, gently brushing the tip of your fingers over the bruised skin. He scrunched up his face at you, about to pull back, but you shot him a sharp look.

"I'm fine, baby. Just some bruises. You shoulda seen the other guy." He grinned, trying to humor you, but the concern didn't leave your face.

"I don't want to, actually." You sighed softly, your eyes falling to his chest, avoiding his eyes.

You wouldn't say it to his face, not actually. How could you? He never lied to you, from the moment he wanted something real with you he told you the truth. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with him. Sammy and hunting come with the package— he told you. And you accepted it. All of it. You married him anyway. You gave him a daughter anyway. But God, it terrified you beyond words that he was still hunting. That he still left you and your little girl for days at a time. And that he would come home with new scars and bruises that would last days. But at times— like this one— you feared that neither of them would come home at all.

"Sweetheart…" There was a bit of warning in his voice. He could read you so easily. He grabbed your face, forcing your head up to look at him now. "What is it?"

"You worry me, Dean. Look at your face. I don't even want to know how it looks under your shirt." Your eyes fell to the side, and your chest filled with ache as you tried to say the right words. "I'm sorry, I know I have no right to guilt trip you. But your daughter missed you, I missed you, and we need you, Dean, that's all."

Dean said nothing at this, his face stayed unreadable as he listened to you. And he heard you, he heard you loud and clear. He felt pressure on his chest and a sick feeling to his stomach. Fuck, he had grown soft.

"C'mere." He pulled you to his chest. He rested his hand on your hair, and he sighed softly when you threw your arms around his torso. "You know I love you, and Rosie, so much, right?"

You nodded against his chest. "I know babe, I love you, too."

We need you, Dean.

"Daddy! I told uncle Sammy he's a— a nerd!" Rosie announced loudly when she saw you and Dean again. And you had to hide your smile at the pointed look Sam shot his older brother.

Dean played dumb, his lips falling open, and he clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm telling ya, Sammy, I dunno where she learns it from."

"Yeah, great parenting dude." Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, and he could only snort in response.

"Yeah, well, here's my apology." Dean shrugged, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Sam with a shit eating smile. Sam pretended to be offended, but he ate the plate in front of him without protesting.

"Alright, Rosie, you wanna eat some pancakes before school?" You set the plate with the smaller portion of pancakes and bacon in front of her and she nodded happily.

"Yes, please!" She excitedly grabbed a fork and dug in, but stopped a second later and looked at Dean. "Daddy can I has syrup?"

"Sure, baby." He practically saturated her plate with syrup and then his own. You shook your head at how alike they were already. You shared a knowing look with Sam and sighed softly, eating from your own plate.

You didn't often have the chance to have breakfast as a family, so you always treasured little moments like this when you had them. And deep in your heart, you wished you had moments like this more.

~~~~~~

"Sweetheart, you in here?" Dean peeked his head into your shared bedroom, his eyes darting around for a few seconds, and then his lips curved up at the sight of you on your shared bed, face deep in your laptop.

"Hi love," You smiled at him, setting your laptop aside to greet him. He happily joined your side, his lips pressing a kiss to yours instantly. "You left Rosie at school, right?"

Your words were stern as was the look you gave him. He pulled back and pouted. You were definitely scolding him for the time he decided to take Rosalie on a drive with Baby just because she asked instead of dropping her off at school.

"'Course I did. No rides in Baby this time, I promise." He smiled at you, and you rolled your eyes.

"Hope so." He saw you reach for your laptop again so he decided to speak again.

Dean thought about it. He thought about it all morning. He drove around town for another hour just to get his thoughts straight.

"Listen, I was thinkin' 'bout what you said this morning.."

You shook your head at him, "I'm sorry, Dean, I know I shouldn't have. Let's just forget about it, yeah?"

"Hey, no, don't do that. Let's not forget about it." You frowned at him, but you didn't respond, so he kept talking. "You're right. I know you are. Hell, I got thrown around so hard, I don't know how I got outta bed this morning. I thought about you, thought about Rosie. Thought about my old man, too."

You frowned softly, resting your hand on the back of his neck, fingers threading through the short hair gently, "Dean.."

"I don't want to be like my old man. I don't want to leave you and Rosie alone anymore, I just can't."

You straightened up, a bit unsure where he was getting at.

"Dean, baby, what are you trying to say?"

"You and Rosie deserve a normal life, a house, all of that shit." Dean breathed out the words, and he held your face in his hands, a tiny smile on his lips. "I want to try it. A normal life. Don't you?"

"I… Dean.." You sighed out softly, attempting to process his words. You stared at him long and hard, and all you saw was love, his green eyes were sincere. "I wouldn't force you to give up hunting. I mean, that's all you've known? And what about Sam? I just—"

"That's exactly it. I'm… I'm so goddamn tired of the life. Don't get me wrong, we save people, hell, we've saved the world, but is that really all worth it if I can't come home to my wife and daughter?" He tilted his head, his free hand was on your thigh, and he squeezed softly. "And Sammy, I know he's tired of it too. He's always wanted a normal life. But he stayed because of me. If I get out, I know he'll do it, too. He's done it before. Who knows, maybe he can find his own pretty girl to marry and have a couple of kids with."

For the longest time, Dean had refused to even consider doing anything else with his life, doing anything better. This was all he had ever known, all he was ever actually good at, right? But lately, God, just lately, he was seeing that light at the end of the tunnel. You and Rosalie were right there. And if you were there with him, the rest of the world could go to hell for all he cared.

"Dean, I love you, I loved you then, hunter and all, and I will love you no matter what. But if you want to settle down.." You breathed out a soft laugh, the words sounding so nice when you said them out loud. You leaned closer to him, a smile on your lips as you pressed your forehead against his. "We'll settle down. A house, normal jobs, play dates, all of it."

"Christ, what did I ever do to deserve you in my life?" He smiled wide, and he pressed a hard kiss to your lips. It was warm, loving.

"Mhmm, so, what would a former hunter do for a living?"

"I'm pretty good with cars aren't I? What do you say? Think I should open my own car shop?"

Your husband as a mechanic? That wouldn't be half bad.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

Text

— WHERE IS MY MIND?

SUMMARY : thinking dean is being annoying with his friendship with crowley. purposely teasing dean and leaving him wanting more, acting like nothing happened.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), the mark of cain, fluff, lots of teasing, sexy use of handcuffs and belts?, attempted anal play (fem. receiving, I thought I could, but sadly, it’s not my thing 😭)

WORD COUNT : 7.7K

A/N : title from the Pixies because that song is a vibe. inspired by BTS, doctor who, muse, coldplay, and obviously by watching this damn season lmao X

“How’s your new boyfriend?” Y/N asked, thumbing the spinning shark head on her blue pen as she stared at a newspaper. She didn’t look up at him, she didn’t have to. She could sense him, she could feel the way her skin tingled the way it always did when he was around. Like two planets, they were drawn to each other, fated by the physics of the universe to belong together, to stay close until they died and the universe became cold and empty with endless death.

Dean froze when he entered the dark library and heard her voice. He looked over at the small lamp Y/N was using to read the newspaper in the dark, the constant whirring of the pen as she twirled it sounded louder than it actually was in the quiet of the night.

“Stop that,” he grunted. She finally looked up at him and raised a brow, her eyes mostly mischievous rather than angry. He placed his duffle bag down on the table next to her scattered papers, their eyes locked on each other’s — asserting dominance.

“Stop this?” She asked, her thumb sliding along the spinning shark head so that the whir continued, and he clenched his jaw at her, his eyes narrowing at her calm face.

His eyes travelled over her beautiful face, analysing the warmth of her dilated eyes, to the blush on her cheeks, and the way her chest was rising a little faster than normal. He reached over and wrapped his fingers around hers to stop her and she blinked at him, an innocent smile tugging at her rosy lips, her eyes becoming wide like a little deer.

“Stop saying Crowley’s my lover,” he told her, his voice deep and threatening. He could read the playfulness in her eyes, the challenge as she lifted her chin just slightly, a smirk growing on her kissable lips now that she knew she had him trapped.

“Give me my pen,” she said calmly, tugging gently under his warm, thick fingers, but he only tightened his grip. She completely ignored him when he refused, turning away to read the newspaper, her hand still trying to pull out of his electric hold. “I dreamt about you and woke up dripping wet, which was nice,” she said nonchalantly, pretending to be distracted as she read the obituary of some old lady.

He blinked down at her, his fingers squeezing her hand which made her eyebrows rise, but she moved her attention to another boxed article instead of reacting. Still, a smile tugged at her lips and her breaths got quicker, like his, she noticed. “Kinda disappointing that you were too busy fucking around with Crowley to take care of that for me, had to take matters into my own... hands.”

He let go of her warm hand and she acted casually, as if she hadn’t just admitted to masturbating earlier today in their shared bed. Her pen touched the paper to circle something interesting and he growled her name softly at her irritating behaviour. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking up at him innocently. Her eyes examined his face now, moving from his angry, creased eyebrows, to his green eyes, now clouded with lust and annoyance. Breaths were shallowly escaping from his beautiful nose, his lips were wet with his saliva and pink from biting them. She licked her own at the sight of their puffy state, and bit her lip at his stubble, remembering the tickle of the coarse little hairs of his jaw between her thighs.

She squeezed her legs instinctively when her cunt began to feel the echoes of pleasure from his tongue. Her eyes fluttered back up to his and she smiled sweetly, leaning forward to catch his lips in a kiss quicker than he could react, then she pulled away just as he was melting into it.

“I’m gonna shower now that I know you’re safe.” She put her pen down and he stood there, speechless, watching her fold the newspaper. “You know, since you were too entertained with your new friend to call or text to let me know you’re fine, or coming home late, at least.” She neatly organised her papers and he glared at her, his face hot with arousal and frustration. “You can join me, if you’d like, unless you already did that with Crowley. too,” She stood up, taking her cardigan off the chair, and finally looked up at his locked jaw. A grin spread over her lips and she made her way past him for only a few inches before he grabbed her arm firmly to stop her.

“You’re getting on my nerves,” he told her, his hot voice thick with desire and irritation. She turned around to face him and narrowed her eyes at him despite the warmth that pooled between her legs.

“You’re getting on mine,” she whispered, weakly tugging away from him. He grasped her tighter, then pulled her forward until she was pressed against his firm and warm body.

“Sit. Down,” he whispered harshly. When she didn’t listen, he manhandled her until she was turned around, and kicked the chair out with his foot for her to sit in. “Sit.”

She huffed out a defiant breath, pulling her arm out of his grip, “No.”

“Have it your way,” he growled, taking cuffs with etchings on it out of his black jacket. She looked at his face, incredulous as he took her forearm in his large hand to slap one cuff around her wrist and the other to the chair. “Sit,” he ordered, snatching the cardigan from her to drop over his duffle bag. When she didn’t listen, he gripped her shoulder tightly and he pushed her down until she plopped down on the wooden chair. She pouted at the cuffs and then glared up at him.

“You know, I can easily get out of these,” she informed him, tugging halfheartedly at the cold metal that bound her to the chair.

“So why don’t you?” He smirked, his hand gently wrapping around her throat. She instinctively circled his wrist with her free hand and he moved his to grasp the soft locks at her nape instead.

“I like this chair,” she shrugged, letting him pull her hair to force her head to tip back. He hummed softly, smirking when she hissed at the slight sting in her scalp, leaning forward to peck her lips once. He groaned softly at the spark-like feeling that covered his mouth when it immediately made contact with hers, like stardust scattering over his lips as they brushed against hers.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked softly when he let her hair go. She settled into the chair, watching him lean back to remove his jacket while biting her lip.

“Sleeping,” she replied tonelessly. She stared at his athletic body, entranced by the way he slowly slipped his indigo flannel off to be folded haphazardly over the table with his jacket. He sat on the table and grinned at her, lifting his foot between her slightly parted legs, he slowly undid the knot of his laces and then did the same to the other boot. They fell loudly on the wooden floor when he kicked them off, revealing some adorable banana socks that made her smile softly.

When she lifted her gaze up to his face, she shamelessly admired his body in the black t-shirt, the way it stretched over his chest and broad shoulders, the short sleeves exposing the muscles of his freckled arms. He was gorgeous. More importantly, he was hard. She dropped her eyes between his legs, his crotch practically right in front of her, and she cocked an eyebrow at the tent in his tight jeans. God, they did wonders for his fantastic ass.

She tugged at the cuffs, wanting to free herself of them. He looked down at her wrist and then raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” He asked innocently, using one hand to undo his belt, the other moved one of her rebellious strands of hair into place. She stared at his busy hand, her eyes glittering with excitement the way they always did with his adept skill of being able to remove his belt one-handedly rather fast. She didn’t know if she wanted to squeeze her legs together or spread them apart farther for him. “You’re so quiet,” he murmured, then he slid the belt out of his jean’s loops.

“Is there something you wanna hear, Dean?” She grumbled, her free hand reaching over to palm at his cock over his jeans.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, staring down at her hand, allowing her to touch him just for a few moments. “No touching, you’ve been too annoying tonight,” he grunted. She pouted at him, squeezing his cock defiantly. He moaned, surprised. He took her wrist quickly and used his belt to tie her only freehand to the chair.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

He glared at her and she smiled at him sarcastically, tugging at his belt to test its tightness. The leather creaked with her movement and he grinned.

He unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, getting off the table to kick them off completely while looking at her to make sure she was not actually pissed at him. When she smiled at him distractedly, he removed his shirt and she licked her lips at the sight of his flat stomach and the v on his hips that led down to what she secretly wanted most, what was hidden beneath his black boxers. He had the tiniest waist too. Fuck, all those layers of clothes he wore didn’t do his gorgeous body any justice.

She was getting wetter and wetter by the second as she admired him like he was a worshipped sculpture in a museum, created by Michelangelo himself. Her body was slowly becoming warm like a spring sun and her heart was beating rapidly like the beat of a glorious song, excited to see him, to feel him, to get closer to him.

“Dean,” she said firmly. His cock jumped at the way she said his name and he looked at her face with his breath caught in his throat, and then his eyes dropped down to the creaking leather of his favourite belt and over to the clinking chains of the cuffs.

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart,” he warned her breathlessly.

She pursed her lips to stop herself from begging and she looked away from him, her eyes sticking to the blue journal Sam got her last Christmas. She didn’t want him to see the pleas in her eyes and she ignored him when he pulled his boxers down slowly. The creaking of leather, the small chains rattling, they gave her away, and she wanted to moan, to rub her thighs together, but she refused.

Her head snapped towards him when he pulled her chair she was sitting in closer to him. The wooden legs squeaked against the floor and she looked down to make sure no marks would be left behind. It would normally piss Dean off to see the wood ruined, but obviously, he could do what he wanted. She narrowed her eyes at him when she looked up at him.

Her gaze reluctantly flickered down to his cock. Even his dick was perfect, it was truly unfair. It stood erect, throbbing, pink, with mouth-watering beads of precum that made her insides quiver. She swallowed thickly and lifted her eyes back up to his stupid, smug face.

“I don’t like you right now,” she pouted, turning away from him.

He chuckled as he cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kept her lips pressed together, refusing to kiss him back, and didn’t open up when his tongue swiped across the seam, silently asking for permission to enter.

He pulled away and contemplated her body language for a few moments. “Open up,” he told her darkly.

“No,” she pouted. He sighed dramatically, pushing himself off the table and she straightened up, squirming a little when he walked behind her. His fingertips gently brushed over her bare shoulders, the voltage of his touch igniting her skin like the neurons firing in her brain, and she shivered. He reached over for the hair band on the table that she had been playing with earlier and tied her hair into a messy ponytail.

She gripped the arms of the chair, panting a little when he stopped touching her. She could only feel the warmth of his breath against her neck, his nose ghosting along her jaw, and she licked her lips as they became dry with the air that slipped past her parted mouth. His lips brushed against her ear and she bit her lip, her spine tingling at the sensation of having him so close behind her without doing anything. She turned her face slightly to gaze at him and he forced her to look forward, his fingers harshly holding her jaw in place.

“Don’t,” his hushed voice warned.

He walked back around to face her, his eyes trailing over her body. He hummed softly as he looked at the cropped tube shirt she wore. The white, soft cotton covering her chest was convenient for easy removal down her body—like a skirt. And she was wearing a pink jean skirt. He got down on his knees and she blinked down at him, wiggling a little when his fingers undid the silver button at her waist.

“Up,” he told her, tugging the skirt down her hips and she did as she was told, this time. She lifted her hips up off the chair, letting him drag the skirt down her legs and off her completely. He left it with his jeans on the floor and started to pull down the shirt she was wearing that had a little pink heart at the centre. She was wearing a beige strapless bra underneath and he pouted at the sight of it. It made her break her stubborn and bratty character and she smiled at him with amusement.

He removed the shirt slowly, then reached behind her to unclasp the bra and he bit his lip at the sight of her round breasts, a hum of appreciation resounding in his chest. The sound made her shift a little in the chair, he noticed it, his ego absorbing the pleasure of knowing what the smallest things he did did to her.

Her beige panties were haphazardly hanging onto her hips from the amount of times he’d dragged clothes over them and the sight of them aroused him. “You like making things hard for me, don’t you?” He grabbed her knees and pushed them apart, then grabbed her hips and pulled them forward so her ass was barely on the chair.

“Not things,” she rolled her eyes, then very matter-of-factly said, “your cock.” She smiled innocently and he had to laugh. The sound made her eyes soften and she melted a little, a real smile spreading over her face like butter on warm pancakes.

“I don’t think I can keep you tied up for much longer,” he admitted, smiling lovingly at her. He looked away and hooked a finger under her panties to push them aside and look at her pussy.

“Well, sweetheart, I think I quite enjoy being tied up,” she told him offhandedly.

He hummed distractedly, “I can tell.”

He parted her wet folds with two fingers and she squirmed at the cool air of the room that hit her wetness and then his warm breath made her moan. She wanted to shut her legs out of sudden coyness, but his broad shoulders between her parted knees stopped her.

He suddenly flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit and she gasped at the little spark of pleasure, her toes curling in her pink ankle boots. Her stomach fluttered and she looked down at him, catching his watchful gaze, and she blushed, her confidence slipping away as light travelling through vacuum space.

He noticed and smirked, nuzzling her thigh with his stubble, then kissing her pelvis. “Dean,” she whispered.

“Where’d my annoying, bratty, little girlfriend go?” He teased, then his mouth returned to her sex. He moved his tongue leisurely, tasting the arousal at her entrance with a moan, dragging his tongue through her folds, up to her clit, until she was panting heavily. He smirked, lazily continuing to massage the swollen little pearl before moving to her entrance again, just to taste her dripping juices. “You’re so wet,” he purred against her, his words muffled from him not moving away from her heat to speak.

“Shit,” she whispered, feeling conflicted on whether to stare at him or close her eyes with her head tipped back.

“Makes it real easy for my big cock to slip inside your tight.. hot.. needy little cunt.” She swallowed a moan, fidgeting with the discomfort of her arousal and the gradual attention he was giving her. He grabbed her ass, lifting it slightly off the chair, and thrusted his tongue into her entrance. Her breath hitched at the warmth inside her and she tightened around his tongue, struggling against the two different materials around her wrists that kept her bound to the chair.

He continued to plunge his tongue in and out of her, imitating the movement his cock made when he fucked her. She wanted to break out and pull his hair as she watched him, he looked too pretty and arrogant between her shaky legs. The sight of him looking at her through his beautiful, curled lashes while his nose nudged her clit made her whine, her face flushed and her skin sweaty from the intensity of his teasing.

He slipped his tongue inside her, pushing as deep as he could, and wiggled it inside her. “What the fuck?” She gasped, moaning out in surprise at the nice sensation. Then, she yelped when his tongue slipped out and he lapped at her asshole. No one had ever done that—and to be fair she did not have a long list of sex partners, there was only Dean in her list of people she’d had sex with, and he’d never done that before. “No!” She squealed, easily lowering her hips, then she pushed the chair away from him as he chuckled.

“You really don’t like that, huh?” He laughed and she smiled, shaking her head bashfully. “Okay, I’ll take note of that,” he murmured, then shuffled closer to her again. She slowly parted her thighs for him, her teeth digging into her lip, as he placed his mouth back on her sex. He parted her folds with two fingers and used his tongue to play with her clit, his tongue brushing between his fingers with each passive stroke of tongue, just to make her squirm again, and she giggled breathlessly.

“Dean,” she moaned. He pulled away at the sound and stood on his knees to kiss her. This time, she opened up to him readily. She didn’t care that he was smearing her arousal onto her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue as it rolled against hers like soft waves. He dragged his two fingers down to her wet hole, slipping his middle finger inside, pushing in and out gradually. He swallowed her moan, pushing against her lips needily, until they were kissing desperately, wishing to somehow get closer.

“I’m just waiting for you to beg, angel,” he whispered against her lips. He added another finger inside her, scissoring them inside her to prepare her for his cock. His cock which ached and hardened at the feeling of her wetness trickling down his palm and knuckles.

“I don’t do that,” she whispered defiantly. He shook his head, keeping his lips close to hers, brushing like leaves on branches did to each other, their breaths tangling. She felt lightheaded with arousal and she just wanted to eat him up like a Leviathan or something. Wow, loving aggression.

“Suit yourself,” he told her quietly. He slipped his fingers out of her and stood up, using his wet fingers to stroke his painfully erect cock. He pressed his fingers against the throbbing veins of his cock, teasing himself, massaging just underneath the head of his cock, drawing out more precum from the slit. He used his thumb to gather it, then popped his finger into her mouth so she could taste him.

She felt a new wave of wetness exude from her cunt at the taste of him, her cheeks turning warmer, redder, when he cupped the back of her head and lined his cock up with her mouth. Her mouth watered and she willfully opened up for him, letting her hot mouth engulf his heavy cock.

She looked up at him, her eyes pretty, like her red lips that rimmed his cockhead. He moaned down at the sight of her, teasing himself, testing his patience as he pushed only the tip in and out of her mouth. Her tongue teased his slit, circling the frenulum, and lapping at the precum as she drooled around him.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he praised, letting go of his cock, to push more of himself into her. She sucked at him, her tongue slithering along the bottom, moving her head back and forth, she let him guide her.

He dragged his fingers down to her chest, kneading her breasts, squeezing the warm flesh in his large hand. “I bet you’re all achy and wet, you little brat,” he growled, pushing himself all the way down her throat. She choked and made a surprised sound, her teeth brushing gently against his sensitive cock to warn him.

He hissed, pinching her nipple roughly so her throat constricted around him to stop noise from coming out, and he moaned at the feeling. He chuckled at her glare, feeling her knees try to close around his legs as he stood between them. He moaned softly again, pushing in and out of her throat roughly, her throat made obscene sounds as he fucked her face, and he stopped when he felt his orgasm approaching.

Her pretty eyes were tearing up, glassy with tears, her long lashes sticking together from a few tears that were falling from his relentless throat fucking, but she didn’t mind. He brought his hand to her reddened cheek, caressing her hot face, and brushing tears away, losing himself in his lust all at once.

He mercifully unlocked the cuffs from around her wrist and he kissed her deeply. She pulled her mouth away from him and he just stared---a gasp escaping him---as she swiftly used one hand to remove his belt from her wrist. It was faster than his brain could keep up with and before he knew it, she was pushing him into the table, her hand wrapping around his cock to stroke him quickly while her other hand moved to his nape to bring his mouth down to hers again.

He moaned loudly, shamelessly throwing his head back, abandoning her mouth as his lips parted to verbalise his pleasure. “God, I wanna make you cum like this,” she told him quietly.

“I have other plans,” he moaned. Y/N bit her lip as he spoke, her eyes sparkling with love and amusement when he looked down at her. “They involve you, only you,” he whispered and then tensed up, about to cum.

He turned them around so that she could sit on the table, easily hoisting her up with his hands on the curve of her waist, forcing her to let go of his cock all at once. He breathed shakily as his cock twitched, aching and longing to spill at last, inside her or on her heated skin. He groped her sides lovingly, worshipping her body with his big hands, squeezing the fleshy parts until he felt like he could continue without cumming in five seconds.

They both breathed heavily, their skins charged with electricity and sweaty from the heat of their aroused state. She admired him quietly, the flex in his muscles from his effort to regain control and his composure. His touch took her breath away, like his gentle kisses along her fiery skin. She didn’t want to look away from him, or stop touching him either as he mouthed at her neck and bit at her collarbones. His sharp teeth dragging along with his tongue to taste her sweat and the natural flavour of her skin beneath the sheen. His plump lips suctioned at her body, leaving behind territorial marks that he licked at while she dug her nails into his strong body.

He felt weak in the knees holding her. Felt like giving into the intoxicating urge to fuck her with abandon when he heard the soft sounds she made when he touched her, when she pulled at his hair and made him grunt. When she squirmed and dropped her forehead on his shoulder, her chest rising and falling unevenly with stuttered breaths. He made his path down to her breasts. His teeth scraped at her nipples, sucking at the tight buds as she arched into him, inviting him to give her more. He moaned softly, dragging his mouth back up to her face and dropping messy kisses along her jaw until his lips were ghosting over hers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She blinked at him, dazed with his love, her mind hazy with thoughts only of him. She held his face in her hands, confused. She didn’t stay confused much longer because he kissed her. The kiss was slow and breathy which made it even hotter. It was the way he panted against her parted lips when he pulled away—just a few millimetres, just for a millisecond, then lazily pulled her close, cupping the back of her head with one of his hands and slipped his tongue back into her mouth.

He held her waist with his other hand, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, moving himself as close as he could between her parted legs, until his hot cock was touching her warm skin. She gave him control of the kiss, melted into him as his velvety tongue swiped over hers, exploring all of her, feeling the familiar space he’d tasted many times before, until he changed the kiss again.

He pecked her lips once they’d closed up a little, and pressed firmly, like a promise. A promise that only he knew, a promise she was unaware of. She felt content, felt the worry and fear of the Mark of Cain slip from her mind when he started to undo her hair again. He was sucking on her bottom lip and tasting the ghostly remains of her favourite lip tint—rose petals—with a satisfied moan.

Once her hair was free again, he moved his hand back to his cock, and pulled away. Her mouth was red, lips swollen and gorgeous, all he wanted to do was kiss her again but he denied himself the pleasure and instead bit his lip. She moved her hands off him, placed her palms on the table and followed his gaze as he watched himself drag his leaking cock through her weeping folds.

Upon contact with her warmth, he moaned. He felt so aroused, when he towered over her, he had to place one of his hands flat on the table close to her hand to stabilise himself. She was writhing slightly, panting each time he brushed against her swollen clit, and he couldn’t even tolerate his own teasing anymore either.

He kissed her forehead like he always did, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance and slowly pushed into her. He inspected her face to make sure she was good, groaning at the sight of pleasure that dawned on her face as he pushed in just an inch of himself. He withdrew slightly so she could adjust to the pressure and the stretch of him, then shoved in just a little more.

“Umm,” she whimpered, her hand flattening over his sweaty chest was her silent signal that she felt like she couldn’t take him. She could feel the rapid hammering of his heart against her palm and she clenched around him, eyes locking onto his to see past the madness of his lust, a tender fire that devoured everything else like a hungry beast.

He could read it all in her eyes too, her love, the way her adoring gaze blanketed over his entire soul, making him feel so loved and safe. It made his stomach flutter, made him feel like just pushing all the way in—just to feel closer to her. Instead, he brought his hand to her clit, rubbing slowly as he withdrew again and pushed back in, deeper. “You’re taking me so fucking good, baby,” he reassured her, his voice raspy and thick with lust.

The sound of him so wrecked made her shudder, temporarily closing her eyes and leaning back slightly in hopes of getting him inside her more easily. He kept his pace slow, mindful of her body, her limits, the way he always did as he pushed himself into her. He nuzzled her cheek and kissed her jaw, breathing unstably by her ear, “just a little more,” he murmured, looking away from her eyes to check that there was, in fact, just a bit more of his thick length that she had to take.

She stared at him for a few moments, studied the aroused fascination that brightened his honeydew eyes and with demure hesitation, she let herself look down too. She watched him pull out just a little, revealing how wet she left him and she gasped, a flurry of excited butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

It made him look up at her, his eyes knowing, gleaming with pride. He had her right where he wanted her, he always did. He pushed himself into her all the way, still gentle, he leaned over her a little, his arm wrapping around her waist so she’d hold onto him instead of balancing on the table, letting her adjust as he dropped kisses over her shoulders and the side of her neck. The scrape of his stubble tickled, but she found it more sexy than uncomfortable.

She wiggled beneath him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck with one hand flat on the table as she brought his mouth to hers. “I’m okay,” she murmured against his lips. He nodded and moaned softly, moving his two hands under her thighs, lifting her up slightly until she was only able to hold onto him.

He pulled his hips back and thrusted into her, feeling her arms squeeze him slightly. He cursed under his breath, twitching inside her at the feeling of her walls dragging along his cock. His pace was still slow, his breath catching as he felt the velvety ridges of her wet walls tightening around him. Only the head of his cock remained inside her and he pushed in slowly, his breaths shaky and shallow.

“Y/N,” he moaned, placing her back down when his hips were flush against hers. He gently pushed her down onto her back with a hand on her sternum. He slowly slid his hand down to her tummy, his eyes locked on hers, both of them more patient and tender than usual, but he knew the reason why as his arm ached. He lifted her feet up to the table, spreading her out more, pushing himself all the way---deeper---until he could feel her cervix if he swivelled his hips.

“Dean,” she mewled, her lips parted as she tipped her head back, her eyebrows furrowing while her eyes fluttered close. She reached out for his wrists, her hands sliding up until her hand rested over the Mark, squeezing reassuringly. He looked down at her small hand, her lavender nails creating crescent moons as she tried to reach all the way around his arm. “Please, move,” she finally begged, lifting her hips up a little to encourage him.

He admired her the whole time he started to thrust into her. His eyes stuck on her body as she jolted up the table slightly only for his hands to keep her hips planted where they were. Her breasts jiggled, abandoned and covered in small marks from his mouth and he twitched inside her, a grunt leaving his throat. Everything about her turned him on, the way they locked eyes, like a passing meteor getting pulled in by Earth’s gravity, they could only stare at each other.

He loved her so much, he didn’t want to look away. He needed her more than the air he breathed. She was everything to him. The only reason he smiled everyday, the only reason the weight of his guilt and shame didn’t crush him. It was the tenderness of her eyes like a Magellanic Cloud, the way she cut through the darkness in his life like a galaxy hurtling through space.

He, on the other hand, was a dimming and dying galaxy until she collided with him, dragging him along for the ride and perfectly melding into each other so that her stars were his, so that her planets and her suns also belonged to him, so that he could never remember or comprehend where he began or where he ended, only that he’d always find her at the end of his despair and at the start of every joy.

She brought life to him like a sun, terraforming him, blossoming his withering hopes and dreams. Her love for him grew like the universe itself, every moment expanding into the nothingness beyond, utterly unrestricted.

“Fuck, I…” he whispered brokenly. He couldn’t always bring himself to say ‘I love you’ and it frustrated him how awkward the words felt on his tongue, and it’s not like he’s never said them before. It was terrifying, especially in moments like these. It was serious and it was real. And he felt that that was exactly why he should say those words, that in moments like these it’s exactly the right moment to let them slip out. But he couldn’t. He found them easy to type, to press the button, and send it to her so she could read them.

He momentarily gave up on his admission and brought his hand down to her clit to rub quick circles. Like the final bit of pressure needed for a star to be born, the bursts of pleasure became overwhelming as she clamped down on him, drawing a growl from deep within his chest as she came. His name poured from her lips like traces of stardust and CMBR as she trembled on the table, his thumb slowly drawing out her orgasm as his warm release spurted into her.

He grunted her name mindlessly, swivelling his hips, pushing to keep his cum as deep inside her as physically possible until he was spilling out of her from how full she was. He didn’t care about what Sam would say if he walked in, he only cared about claiming her and filling her up. His soul burned with pride and fervour knowing she’d be wet and full inside for days with his cum as she walked around and worked, that her cunt and clit would be swollen from his usage for the next hours, sore from the penetration of his cock, her skin bruised by his hands and mouth, and her nipples tight from his tongue and fingers.

“Umm,” she started quietly. He snapped out of his daze, a lazy smile growing on his lips as he looked into her soft eyes, but didn’t dare to slip out of her. He lifted a hand to move a few strands of hair away from her flushed face and saw her perk up slightly. “Funny how I was annoying you earlier…” she trailed off, her fingers brushing against the Mark, relaxing him.

He hummed softly, shaking his head. “You’re not annoying,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. She smiled at him, an adoring tenderness radiating from her features like sunlight that flustered him. “I.. I am sorry,” he whispered.

“Hmm? What for?” Her voice was quiet and curious, stunned about his second apology.

“You know.. Crowley, for not calling or texting, for everything before that if I haven’t apologised, and for everything after, just in case I’m too stupid to realise I’m wrong,” he told her, just a little bit of guilt and shame making him look away.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft, like everything else about her, and he looked up at her again when she tugged at his arms. “I’m always going to forgive you,” she informed him, then shut her eyes as if he wasn’t allowed to argue with her. She hummed softly at his thoughtful silence, her hands reaching out for his hips, pulling him into her so he’d brush her cervix again as a way to distract him.

“Sam… He, uh,” Dean paused to laugh sadly, “he gave me the talk.. the ‘don’t hurt her’ talk when you and me started.. dating, when I.. popped outta Hell,” he spoke up randomly. She remembered, it felt like just yesterday he was having nightmares of what he’d done in Hell---even now, there was still the aftermath of Hell affecting him. She lifted a brow, opening her eyes, and tilting her head like a puppy to give him her undivided attention.

Then, she smiled, images of Sam acting like the overprotective brother that Dean once played entertained her. “Oh.”

“I always knew no one could love like you do, and I wanted to.. uh, hold onto that innocence, that goodness in you, your kindness… I thought it’d wither away, but looking at you now, there’s only… more of it. I don’t know how… but you still care and love and feel so deeply.” He finally pulled out of her, biting his lip as he shamelessly watched himself slip out while his cum followed.

“What are you trying to say?” She didn’t notice what he was enthralled by, too caught up in trying to analyse his words, so he blinked away his arousal and picked up his folded shirt to clean her up.

“I don’t wanna taint that, I don’t wanna ruin it, to make you… lose that. I love you so much for it, and I have… this,” he pointed to the Mark on his arm, “so I know I won’t be.. stay good.. like you. I’ll be a demon, just evil, cold, and dark…” he trailed off, focusing on cleaning her up while feeling her eyes probing his very soul without even having to slip into the doors of his eyes.

“Don’t.. do you think… that now, as a human, you’re nothing more than that?” Her voice was quiet, like she didn’t actually want to know the answer, as if it’d break her to know the truth. She shooed his hand away as she sat up, her eyes never once straying from what she could see of his face.

“Well, yeah, I mean, that’s why Cain gave me this thing, because I was worthy or whatever,” he mumbled, busying himself by putting both their dirty clothes into the duffle bag to wash later. “Not something I should be proud of bein’ worthy of,” he muttered, putting his boxers on. She was quiet for a moment and let him dress her in his flannel as she tried to find her next words.

“He’s wrong, he doesn’t know you, not really,” she started. He caged her with his arms, his hands flat on either side of her hips and he finally looked up at her, their faces really close, but far enough for her to see his scepticism. “So, he’s seen like.. point one percent of what you are, you are so much more, Dean.” She hid her face in his neck, kissing his tattoo before she pulled away to add, “I look up to you, so.. if you love who I am, just know it’s because of you… that I am this way..”

“What?” He blinked, pulling back just to make sure he heard right, his brain incapable of retaining the meaning of her words.

“What? You really don’t know?” She asked with disbelief, a sad smile washing over her face. “That’s somewhat endearing actually,” she murmured with a somewhat sad, little laugh. She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, a little sigh drifting between her lips. “The first thing I noticed when I met you was how kind you are. How you took care of Sam.. then I found out you’ve done it all your childhood and you didn’t complain.”

“It wasn’t your job, you could’ve just.. not done it, but you did. With no reward, no thanks, nothing. You could’ve lied and ‘taken care of him’---no one was watching---but you still did it, and he had a better childhood than you. In fact, he’s turned out quite wonderful. You made him want more, made him feel worthy, valuable, which is why he went off to college.”

“You shielded him as much as you could from hunting, that for him there was actually a way out. Something you couldn’t see for yourself because you made it your job to take all the weight. Then, you took care of me and tried doing the same. And.. well, if you love who I am, thank yourself, Dean. You were like a hero to me, different from your dad, different from all the hunters I’d seen, and I thought, ‘this.. he is what I want to be, not a killer, not a thoughtless, violent, bloodthirsty, unchanging hunter---a hero’. I loved you for it back then too.”

“Then, when we were hunting together---all three of us, to look for your dad… I saw more of you.. there were the random kids you saved… how gentle you were---and still are---with them. You’ve shown mercy to monsters, to people who could be considered dangerous. You changed your mind about what hunting’s all about, you’ve evolved past killing anything that isn’t human, you’ve grown, and other hunters stick with the same ‘all monsters are killers and need to die’ motto. You’ve realised that they’re just like us too. That they can be different and.. fuck, if that’s not goodness, then I don’t know what you wanna call it.”

“You’ve done everything you’ve done—even getting this damned Mark—out of love, for the world, or for Sam, or whoever, because you’re good. I’ve seen all these billions of different, tiny, bits and pieces of you, and.. to me.. you’re.. like a whole universe, filled with light, hope, love, life, sadness, pain, grief, and you’re so fucking beautiful I’m just.. overwhelmed with how much I adore you for being who you are. I would never ask you to change.”

“And you’re still trying to save everyone. You, Sam, and even Cas might not always succeed when you try to do something you think is right or good to try to save the ones you love or the world, but the point of being a good man is that you’re even trying at all. No one sees you, no one tells you to, no one thanks you for it, you just help people because it’s right, because it’s the least you could do, above all, you do it because you’re kind, Dean.”

Silence fell over them momentarily as Dean let her words sink in. His mind worked quickly to absorb her sentiment and her love for him, and he wanted to cry. Tears of happiness and adoration stung his eyes and he blinked them away, swallowing past the tightness in his throat that made a strained whimper melt away, stopping it from making its way out.

“Y/N..”

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know that, I just want you to hear the truth from someone who loves you and knows who you really are. Someone who accepts you as you are and doesn’t try to change you.. or.. act like all you are is.. bad. I see you, at your core, your very soul and your mind.. all of you… is just.. glorious. Nothing needs to be added to you or changed or removed because you’re already perfect, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a daft cow and their opinions don’t matter, obviously. You’re my everything and I love you,” she murmured, smiling playfully.

“You’re so…” He broke into a smile too, his hands landed on her hips and he pulled her closer to him, their faces inching closer. Close enough for their breaths to make them dizzy with a more tender haze of desire washing over them.

“Shh, let me.. I love you,” she whispered lazily against his lips. She kissed him deeply, both of them smiling and trying not to laugh as their lips moved together.

“You’re delirious,” he mumbled, entertained by her playfulness.

She pulled away from the kiss, her legs wrapping around his hips with her ankles locked together. She nuzzled into his neck again, finding a comfortable position and whispering, “shh, I said I love you, let’s go to sleep.”

“Not in our... bed?” He suggested with a chuckle, kissing her head.

“Oh. Right.. yes.” She pulled away, hopping off the table and fixing his shirt she was wearing. He bit his lip, claiming her waist under the open shirt with his hands. He pushed the shirt open more with his forearms to admire her nakedness.

“It’s okay, I love you.” He smiled like a dork as he kissed her forehead.

“You’re adorable when you say that,” she grinned, circling his waist with her arms. He blinked down at her, his eyes lighting up when he backtracked and remembered what had slipped from his mouth.

“I.. uh, sorry for not saying it more often,” he mumbled, still a little proud of himself for saying it at all.

“Don’t worry. It’s pretty hard for me to say it to you sometimes..” she confessed bashfully. Of course she’d understand that he had difficulty saying those words, as overdue as they were. She knew he’d found other ways to express it, everything he does for her he does out of love. At least now he knows there’s nothing he needs to overthink. She really knows him. She really sees him.

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #6.8

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 11 months ago

Text

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Christmas (Holiday) Smut, Red Ribbons, Candy Canes, Peppermint Sensations, Sleigh Bells, Sexy Santa References, Dean is Tied Up, Edging, Oral Sex, 69, Vaginal Sex, Reader is a Naughty Little Vixen, Dean deserves a proper (sexy) Christmas.

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Notes: This smutty little fic is a holiday gift for @jessjad for the 2023 SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy the reader’s sexy times with Dean.

Big thanks to @sam-is-my-safeword and runawaydr3amer (AO3) for reading the first draft and helping with a great many awesome smut ideas. Additional thanks to runawaydr3amer, who also beta’d this fic and packaged it up nice and shiny.

Merry holidays!

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo, and this part will fill my "Edging" square.

Resources:

Collage created in Canva

Pic found on Google (Fanpop)

Song Reference: Santa Baby by Joan Javits and Philip Springer (listen/watch this version sung by Eartha Kitt)

Dean sinks those pearly whites into the flesh of his bottom lip. His top lip pulls up and back into a painful sneer. The usual rosy, pillowy fullness of that mouth is instead taut, whitening under the capture. You laser focus onto the pointy canine denting into the mouth you have debated sitting on since you began this teasing challenge.

jingle

You finish fashioning a sweet little bow with the ribbon. It’s ruby red and velvety soft.

“Well, I think that’s about the prettiest package I ever did wrap.”

jingle

“What do you think, Mr. Claus?” you ask, your voice as innocent and demure as you can manage.

Dean opens his mouth and expels a slow gasp. jingle “Fuck, sweetheart. You aren’t playin’ fair.”

“That’s the whole point.”

You rise from the edge of the bed and take in the entire scene. It’s magnificent.

He’s magnificent.

Dean is lying atop the forest green comforter of your bed. Naked. Well, not totally naked. A red ribbon - adorned with one single sleigh bell - binds his wrists together and anchors him to the headboard. His arms, jutting out and bent to create a diamond-shaped frame around his face, give you a prime ticket to the gun show. Biceps flex and tendons raise under the skin as he tries to remain as motionless as possible.

jingle

You aren’t a complete heathen. He’s got a fluffy pillow, the same deep green color as the comforter, to rest his head atop. Dean is anything but sleepy. He’s wound up. He stares back at you, the green of his irises electric and flaming with intensity.

You anticipate how sublime it will feel to strum the cords of his neck. Tickle your fingertips down that chest. You imagine Dean ring-a-ding-dinging and cursing himself if you take the time to trace the outline of his tattoo. Circle those perky nipples. Dip into his belly button and follow his treasure trail of baby-fine hair.

You marvel again at the other ribbon that you tied. You’d purchased a couple yards of red velvet at the craft store weeks ago with this in mind. With him in mind. You were ecstatic it had been enough to criss-cross around the crease below that fine ass. It wraps over a slight vee along his waist. The makeshift holiday jockstrap has Dean’s beautiful, now fully erect, cock sporting a bow.

Dean sighs. “Are you done decking my balls?” jingle

You giggle and fiddle with the belt of your robe. It’s red as well, but made of silk. “As we discussed, the end result of all of this is all up to you. Santa.” You flip a switch to turn off the ceiling light. The sconces stay on above the headboard. Two halos figure eight over Dean’s beautiful body, awash in a warm amber glow.

He’s a full print ad of holiday cheer and sinful debauchery.

“You’re being very naughty, (jingle) Mrs. Claus.” Dean licks his top lip—your core clenches at the deep timbre of his scolding.

You’ve been wet since you both finished Christmas dinner. Since you told him you had one more gift for him waiting upstairs. Since you left him in the bedroom with orders to strip while you changed in the bathroom. Since you pulled out the ribbons. Since you explained that if he was good and could keep his jingling down to a minimum through what you had planned, you’d fuck him into the New Year.

You inhale and shrug, then begrudgingly turn your back to the sight. It takes a few taps on your phone for you to get to the song. You stifle another giggle at the little jingles Dean can’t help as he waits.

Once you tap the play button, the festive and recognizable melody begins. A barbershop quartet bah-bums a bit before the sultry and smooth vocals of Eartha Kitt take the lead.

You look back over your shoulder at Dean and whisper along with Eartha.

You peel the silky robe off one shoulder then the other. Dean groans when the layer slips down to the floor. jingle

“Shit.” He moans and you grin in satisfaction at the hoped for reaction.

You turn back to face him, adding a dramatic hair flip. You're wearing a sexy little Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s a red velvet dress with a scandalously high skirt and a low-cut halter. White fur lines both the top and bottom. It’s all cinched nice and tight around your waist with a black belt and a gold buckle.

You bend at the knees and lean forward, shoulders folding in and hands resting on your thighs. It gives Dean the perfect vantage to ogle your cleavage. You purr along with the next line and modify the lyrics a smidge.

“Man, I must have been a really good boy this year.” Dean stares in awe, not even caring how much he’s jingling with his squirms atop the bed.

You let it slide for the time being, thrilled at the kid in a candy store grin plastered on his face and the way the bow sways with every twitch of his cock.

Dean tilts his head to the side. His gaze begins at your red-glitter heels and canvases every inch of skin from ankles to thighs. He pauses, stopping to stare at the hint of flesh under the skirt hem. jin-jingle jingle jin-jingle He pants out, “Mrs. Claus forgot her panties, huh?”

You lift a finger and wiggle it back and forth in the air. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember, really good boys stay still if they want their present.”

The bell jangles no matter how carefully he attempts to reposition himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and you laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be good,” he whispers soft and sweet.

The heels tap across the hardwood as you walk over to settle beside Dean. You adjust your skirt to let the scant amount of fabric fan over your naughty bits. Being so close to him makes you forget the lyrics to sing along with Eartha.

You rest a hand on his chest. Through clenched teeth, Dean inhales at the touch, the rest of him frozen in place. The bell is silent. Your other hand grabs one of the candy canes you had left on the bedside table. For reasons.

Watching him fight every urge he has to reach out and touch you is fascinating. And the power you have over him gives you a head rush. You continue the tease, twirling the candy between your fingers, then laving the cane’s hook with your mouth and tongue. Dean garners some pity from you as he whines, brows downturned, eyes attentive to your every swirl and suck. You swing the cane close to his mouth. “Wanna taste?”

He swallows. “Wanna taste you,” he states, the hint of hope escaping around the edges of a soft moan.

The thrill of his need quickens your pulse. No other man has loved and adored you as thoroughly and exuberantly as Dean Winchester. You nod. “You will. But, first,” you rub the wet-slick candy cane over his bottom lip, “show me what that mouth wants to do.”

“You know what this mouth can do,” he reminds with a little sass, letting the candy cane tap against his bottom teeth.

But soon enough, he indulges you. He slips the hook between his lips. His tongue slides out under the curve of peppermint, lapping at the sticky sweet. Again and again. Your breath hitches into your open mouth as you watch, enthralled at the ministrations of that thick and powerful muscle. He sucks the confection in a little farther, pursing his lips. The sounds he’s making, enjoying the treat, are downright pornographic and send any extraneous bell ringing to the back of your hearing queue. The red food coloring coats them like lip gloss by the time you break from the spell of his show. You guess it’s been minutes since Eartha finished her rendition of ‘Santa, Baby.’ The rest of the playlist you created has soft and dreamy instrumentals.

“My turn,” you cajole. You tug on the cane. He relinquishes, but not without some resistance. A little pop escapes his mouth once the hook is freed. You marvel at the progress he made. The hook end is substantially shorter and thinner than when he began.

He sniffs and tilts his chin up in pride. jingle “Your turn with that, or my turn with you?”

The cane slips back into your mouth, your fingers sticky from all the handling. You stand, kick off your heels, and climb back onto the bed on your knees. You grin as you suck on the candy.

His eyes soften. “Be careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke. Well, at least not on that.” He smirks.

He’s right. Safety first. You toss the candy onto the bedside table.

“You are so (jingle) fucking hot in that (jingle) outfit.” He grins and waggles eyebrows in anticipation. “Gonna let me down your chimney, Mrs. Claus?” jingle jingle jingle

The actions in the next few seconds are a blur. You wonder if Dean has some sort of Jedi mind control ability. Because even though you are supposed to be the one making decisions this evening, his seductively god-awful puns find you sitting on his face, reverse cowgirl.

“You might get the golden ticket to all my secret places if you’re lucky.” Your fingers tip-toe down his chest like a grinch about to steal someone else’s presents.

jingle jingle jingle

“Fuckin’ hell,” Dean murmurs under your skirt. Hot breath bathes your inner thighs and other areas you hope will soon be explored.

Your hands rest in the little divots created by his pelvic bones while you take his body in and plan your method of attack. You pull on the ribbon and release his cock of the bow. Then, you’re deep throating him like he’s your last meal.

Not one to be outdone at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Dean’s entire face gets in on the feast as well. Nerves respond to the tingling sensation of the residual peppermint on Dean’s lips and tongue. You shiver at the gloriously heightened sensitivity when he pulls back to blow on your pussy. “This is so much better than milk and cookies.” He moans and groans and jingles all the way.

As much as you’re loving the taste of his precome, the velvet texture against your tongue, and the way the tip triggers a tiny gag reflex at the base of your throat, it’s time to remind him of the consequences of all that noise he’s making. You release the hard length from your mouth and try to concentrate on your own breathing during the absolute virtuoso way he’s eating you out. As much as you’d love his fingers to get in on the action, you know you’d have no control over the situation. You sigh in relief that he’s trying to adhere to some parts of the game. The pitiful, half-hearted ribbon shackling of his hands to the headboard is no match for Dean Winchester.

You steady yourself on wobbly knees and one shaky elbow. A firm grip around the base of his cock makes Dean gasp. He stills after that. In your mind’s eye, you picture the beauty of that mouth and how his luscious pink lips were slick with peppermint. You imagine how slick they are with you now. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs and you feel him settle back onto the pillow. “I’ll be as quiet as I can. Can you blame me, though? Here I am, under your sweet little skirt, in the dark (jingle)... shit, sorry. But, you can’t drop a five-course meal in front of a starving (jingle) man and not expect him to wanna little taste.”

You squeeze his cock. “That’s part of the challenge.”

“I’m always up for a challenge. You always make me feel so good.”

You groan at the praise he bestows. Without releasing your hold, you shimmy off his chest. Channeling the prim and delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Claus, you crawl along the comforter and settle between nutcracker bow legs. With knees tucked under you and sat atop bare feet you accept him in your mouth again and get to work.

You take in the sight of Dean inventorying your every action. He’s gripping the top of the headboard with both hands to steady his upper body. You clock that the little stinker has also managed to palm the sleigh ball in an effort to silence or, at the very least, muffle it. You consider that move cheating. But he feels so sublime that you can’t bear to part with him to voice your irritation. He’s also whispering the sweetest filth to you while he watches.

“Damn. Yeah. Those lips of yours feel so good around my cock. You take it so good, baby. Wish I could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, but I’d definitely jingle-jangle way too much.” A tongue swipe over his top lip accentuates the glossy look of his ruby-tinted mouth in the warm light. “You really are too good to me. You give the best Christmas presents.” He stiffens further with each downstroke. “Aw, yeah. Suck it.” Your rhythm increases. “So pretty. Wanna touch you so bad.” He gasps. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ close.” jingle jingle

You clamp around the base again and squeeze, freeze mid-swallow - your lips around the tip - as soon as he rings.

Dean squirms and grumbles.

You continue to bring him to the edge of orgasm, then halt. Your jaw is aching along with the rest of your body as time passes.

You’ve fucked Dean up in the best way possible. He’s blissed out, wound up tighter than a spring. You’ve got him begging. But his words grow into admonishments with each successive denial. “You can’t keep doing this, baby. There’s gonna be consequences. Santa’s gonna for real put you on his naughty list. Nothing but coal in your stocking,” he huffs.

You give your mouth a reprieve and stroke him. “Is that all that happens to naughty girls?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip before offering, “You really wanna find out?”

You nod.

The ribbon binding Dean to the headboard shreds with one mighty tug. He pitches the sleigh bell in the air. It jingles as it pinballs around the room.

You gasp as he cinches those hands under your armpits and drags you up his body. He crushes his lips into yours, tastes you with his tongue. The mixture of your arousal and a hint of peppermint melts you in his arms. Then, a sudden and swift rollover pins you beneath him.

He hovers, tosses your skirt up to your chest, and wedges between your legs. His hard, heavy cock slips into your folds and glides through your wetness. “I could drag this out. Or.” It’s his turn to tease. He notches snug against your entrance. You’re surprised your muscles haven’t pulled him into you of their own accord the way your entire body spasms with need. He whispers in your ear, “Let me be your Santa, baby.”

You gasp, “And hurry down the chimney tonight.”

He groans in victory and slides in, balls deep. He thrusts. One massive hand gathers your wrists together on the pillow above your head to anchor you in place. Fingers of his other hand grip the top of the headboard. Every sway in and out of you gets more frenetic. You’re screaming his name and he’s cursing yours.

“Good girls do what they’re told,” he states, out of breath, face reddening. His gaze locks with yours. He slows down. Releases your hands. Finds your clit amid the white fur and red velvet. Strums. Angles and hits your sweet spot deep within you with a harsh abandon. “Come.”

Minutes later, after you’ve both orgasmed, you’re curled into his chest. “That was…” you manage between heavy exhales.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He kisses your forehead. “Every year, since I saved you from that ghost on Christmas Eve, you find a way to outdo yourself with the holiday cheer.”

“Well, you deserve it. I’m glad you can get away for a little while and get a special treat.”

He sighs. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to…”

You rest a finger atop his lips. “How I see it. Guy saves your life one time, you owe him the rest of yours.”

He smiles and pulls you in. “How about we just focus on tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #christmas smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic

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lovelybeesthings · 1 year ago

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Obedient bunny 3

Chapters 1, and 2 here are the links

Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: This is the last one of the bunny trilogy!

After the events in the movie

Once Coriolanus had grown custom to his new living arrangements in the Capitol he soon started plotting how he would build his empire with the help of Dr. Volumnia.

He successfully poisoned Dean Highbottem an obstacle that passed and he was using anyone even the president and his wife believing how strong of friends he was with their son Sejanus foolish just like his son in the end believing what he wanted them to believe in the palm of his hands.

But something did linger in his mind, not Lucy Gray but a bunny he left behind a long time ago who he felt he needed to revisit, as he went to event gatherings among the elite he'd heard much about Y/n she didn't leave the publics eyes not once.

Y/n had been desired among all of her family titles, her beauty and wealth making people fight for her affection and attention left and right but from what's been rumored that she had locked up her heart from one fatal man, no one knew who.

But Coriolanus knew why and who that man was, it was him since that night he had made this bunny scared of finding another to love the way she had done with him once in her life.

The thought of his actions impacting her so well like an obedient bunny waiting for their master to return he had to see her all he had was the image of her in a nice dress and gorgeous face like a wild dream he knew when he'd see her again it feel like a fresh breath.

Sad girl

As Y/n went to gatherings and gatherings she soon became bored with it all altogether She made an appearance shining among others and was bothered by man after man to undo the curse that she had cast herself.

Since that night it felt like nobody could compare it to Coriolanuss's looks, his eyes his guard always up but when it came down to the two of them he let himself be vulnerable he was here there from Fiancd, friends, something more, back to strangers.

But it's as if she never expected it but also knew he wasn't here like she was always competing for something to win his eyes his attention she knew him she knew the way he'd stare at the Academy food acting like he wasn't hungry when he'd been starving for days and how'd she make sure to always pack a lunch for him he'd share them with grandmama and Tigris.

Was it all pretend did he put up all these acts to delude herself? She wondered to herself each night before bed at the center of the crime scene in her heart she believed that he'd open that door again and he'd be there his smile his curly blond mop locks.

But she knew it was hopeless and continued the role she had to play longing for the memory as she had built walls around her heart keeping her sweet attitude and never letting anyone she'd a tear.

Today was no different She had walked around the university in her pink winter coat with white stockings and her dress and warm boots hair straightened she made sure to keep in touch with his family, especially Tigris but when they had stopped sending letters in ended their.

Y/n entered the warm library her cheeks and ears were rosy she took out the books she needed sat down at a table began to study with some cookies always been one for sweets, shortly after the time flu by and she had lost the fight with her sleep slumbering peacefully on the table.

Coriolanus had needed to borrow a book from the university library he had huffed as when he entered the library he made sure to wrap his mother's scarf around him for the extra measure since it was freezing he soon found the book he was looking for but when he turned his head it felt Like destiny.

There she was his once-fiance the girl who was once his the one he took for granted sleeping softly hiding from the cold outside seeking slumber in the warm library he couldn't help but let a smile creep on his face as he made saddle moments as he took out a chair and sits down next down to his eyes strung upon her.

She soon made a huff in her sleep causing him to hold her chuckle scared to wake her up as she made noise in discomfort cold Corionalus took off his red coat and placed it over her hearing a noise of comfort soon her eyes began to wide open blinking yawning.

As she looked around her surroundings she saw blond moppy hair she recognized and when she looked him in the eyes her heart began to break again she swore she'd be ready for this moment but now that it was happening she wanted to run away.

“Why the face bunny I thought you be happy to see me,” he spoke with a smirk “I-I what are you doing here, your hair!” everything in her mind was disorganized even if her emotions were running around she couldn't help but smile placing her delicate hands on his face he responded with a smile

“Do you like it I mean it's not like my old look but I mean I don't have to fake my class” he responds I don't bat an eye away from his look his hair was different but he looked more like a gentleman I give a kiss of his cheek “so you do?” he answers being cocky “calm down you just look so handsome it suits you in glad to see you again?” I say.

“Really from what I've heard you've locked any romantic emotion toward someone surpisnlkg since that night I last saw you,” he says changing my mood he notices and quickly tries to fix his mistake “Hey, I didn't mean that I'm sorry I missed you too Im glad to see you again,” he says the sincerity in his voice.

I look back to give a small smile “Well are you gonna explain why in seeing you again you disappeared for a while now” I say as he sighs and begins to tell me everything (not the murdering parts lol) “I'm so sorry Coryo I can believe she just left you all alone in that cabin” I respond as I hold him close to me

“Well since I've been back I was able to improve our living conditions and get to go to university under Dr. Volmnia,” he says with a small smile making me frown as I hold his face with my hands “I'm glad to hear your life played out nicely at least the last part,” I say giving a lovely smile.

“Well, one part I want to achieve but I'm having. A hard time to make it more than a dream” he says chasing me to give a confused look and his smile just grows “I'm ready Y/n after everything I've been threw I want to have a life with you I want to be your husband” he says with confidence sending shocks my way as he gets up and on his knee pulling out a red leather box and opening it showing a diamond ring made to look like a rose my eye light up to it.

“Coryo how could you-” I say trying to figure out how much it costs I can't let him spend this much on me but he interrupts me “Y/n Will you be my wife?” he says looking at me with that stare of stare I cannot refuse I nod and kiss him as he places the ring on m finger sliding it on.

As they share this intimate moment his hands are on her hips and as she breaks the long kiss for a breath of air she looks at the window beside them “Croyo look snow falling!” She says with a sweet smile her voice like honey enlightening to the sigh as he watches her this was his destiny he’d make her his wife they’d have a family as he’d provide a life for her no man would be able to.

THE END OF THE BUNNY SEIRS!!!

#coriolanus snow x reader #reader #coriolanus snow #fanfic #tom blyth x resder #hunger games #peeta mellark x reader #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #fanfiction #fem reader #y/n

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jackles010378 · 11 months ago

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Our First Christmas

(Jensen Ackles x you)

No warnings just pure fluff 🥰❤️

It was a cold winter evening, and the snow fell gently outside the window, creating a peaceful and serene atmosphere. The room was adorned with festive decorations, and the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You and Jensen sat side by side on the couch, your hearts brimming with excitement as you celebrated your first Christmas together.

Ever since you had met on the set of a Big Sky, your love had blossomed like a beautiful winter rose. Jensen, with his charming smile and mischievous eyes, had captured your heart from the moment you laid eyes on each other. And now, you were about to embark on a new chapter of your love story during your favorite time of the year.

Jensen had planned a surprise trip for you to a cozy cabin nestled deep within the snow-covered mountains. It was a place where you both could enjoy the tranquility of nature and bask in the magic of the season. As they arrived at their destination, your eyes sparkled with glee as you took in the breathtaking scenery.

The cabin was adorned with twinkling lights and festive decorations. A crackling fire warmed the room, creating a cozy ambiance. Jensen had thought of every little detail to make your first Christmas together unforgettable.

You both spent the days leading up to Christmas exploring the winter wonderland that surrounded you. You built snowmen, had thrilling snowball fights, and made memories that would last a lifetime. Every evening, you would return to the cabin, rosy-cheeked and full of laughter, to cozy up in front of the fire.

On Christmas Eve, Jensen surprised Y/N with a beautifully wrapped box. Inside was a delicate silver locket, engraved with yours and his initials. Your eyes filled with tears of joy as you held the precious gift close to your heart. It was a symbol of your love, a reminder that your connection was something special.

As you both sat by the fire, sipping hot cocoa and exchanging heartfelt gifts, You couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. You had found your soulmate in Jensen, someone who made you laugh, who understood your deepest fears and aspirations, and who was always there to support you.

You and Jensen stayed up late into the night, talking about your dreams and plans for the future. You both made promises to always celebrate Christmas together, regardless of where life might take you both. It was a night filled with love, laughter, and hope.

And as the clock struck midnight, snowflakes dancing outside the window, Jensen pulled you into his arms. You shared your first Christmas kiss, sealing your love beneath the mistletoe. It was a moment that would forever be etched in both your hearts, a declaration of their commitment to one another.

Your first Christmas together was an enchanting and magical experience, a blend of love, laughter, and the beauty of the season. It set the stage for many more joyous holidays to come, creating a tradition that would bring you both closer with each passing year.

And as you held each other tight, the snow softly falling outside, you and Jensen knew that their love was a gift that would continue to grow and flourish, not just during the holiday season, but throughout every season of their lives.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @tmb510 @nescavaneck

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #deanwinchtser #soldier boy #jensen ackles gifs #beau arlen #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you

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creepywrites · 1 year ago

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Real names

Jeff the Killer- Jeffrey woods

Liu- Liu Woods

Ben- Ben Lawman

Sally Dawn- Sally Dawn (formerly Williams)

Sam Williams- Sam Williams

Milo the Electrocuted- Milo Moretti

Lulu- Lucille Greatfield

Clockwork- Natalie Rogers (formerly Quellette)

Zero- Zero

Jane the killer- Jane Vaughn Richardson (formerly Richardson)

Mary Vaughn- Mary Vaughn

Jane Everlasting- Jane Arkensaw

Vailly Evans- Vailly Evans

Nathan the nobody- Nathan Lux

Crystal the Hidden- Crystal Lux

Eyeless Jack- Jack Nyras

Kate the chaser- Kate Hayes

Rouge- Heather Marshall

Wilson the basher- Wilson Marshall (formerly Warren)

X-virus- Cody Rogers

Lazari- Lazari Swann

Stripes- Eloise Bellarose

Kaidy- Kaidy Zalgo

Senora Zalleen- Pandora Zalleen s.

Rasika- Rasika

Nina the killer- Nina Hopkins

Puppeteer- Puppeteer (formerly Johnathan Blake)

Zachary- Zachary Gibson

Emra- Emra Aldrige

Bloody painter- Helen Otis

Suicide Sadie- Sadie nanook (formerly Bennett)

Roadwalker- Zayner Nanook

Judge angel- Dina Angela-Otis (formerly Clark)

Nurse Ann- Ann Mia

Randy- Randy Harrison

Sully- Sully Harrison

Keith- Keith Davis

Troy- Troy Green

Dollmaker- Vaughn Volikov

Svetlana- Svetlana Volikov

Vicky genocidal- Victoria Ross

Hannah the killer- Hannah Jackson

Lily Kennett-Lily Kennett

Hung iris- Iris Illman

Lifeless Lucy- Lucy Jones

Asylum Nancy- Nancy Adams

Chris the Revenant- Chris Myers

Monday Child- Christabel Smith

Laughing Jill- Laughing Jill

Laughing Jack- Laughing Jack

Toby- Tobias Rogers

Lurking Lyra- Lyra Rogers

Killing Kate- Katherine Knight

Lost Silver- Lost Silver (formerly Hibiki)

Cata the Killer- Cata Blackwood

Rotten Abigail- Abigail Walker

The Hare- Lin Wang

The Doll- Andrea Stevens

Raven- Manon Plume

Anna Schurks- Anna Schurk

Weeping forest- Jenifer Rhynes

Nightmare Ally- Adeline Abendroth

Red Death- Sifreid Gadriel

Gas mask maid- Marion Gadriel

Tim- Timothy Wright

Jessica- Jessica Locke

Taylor- Taylor Locke

Ellie- Ellie Aimoto

Labrador- Dean Lupei

Moth boy- Benjamin Miller

Starved angel- Lyet (formerly Matthew Lyet Campbell)

Sketcher- Sakura Aki

Sarah Erickson- Sarah Erickson

Hannya- Momoko Yamashita

Rosie- Dorothy Wilder

Hunter the proxy- Ethan Wilder

Doctor Irina- Irina Kennett

Deborah- Deborah Robison

Lucy the cannibal- Lucille Johnson

Andie Rosslyn- Andie Rosslyn

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walkinthrudaisies · 13 days ago

Text

Class of 2013: Chapter One

dean winchester x fem!OC

3.8k | angst, fluff, spn level violence

summary: the first time rosine met dean and sam winchester was a puzzling one. but she was a woman of science, anything could be possible. right?

From a young age, Rosine Millan had always been curious.

Her brain was far beyond what any of the adults around her could fathom. As little as six, Rosine was reading literature that some twenty year olds have not even thought of picking up. Her grades at school were exceptional, having her skip the fourth grade and sadly missing out on the famed amusement park trip. Most importantly, Rosine was herself, and she did not seem to care how others viewed her.

Whether she was a goody two shoes or a loner freak who no one wanted to sit near at lunch, Rosie did not care. She knew that she was smart. And she knew that one day, she was going to do something big, and all of these years of loneliness and sparse amounts of friends would just be a footpath in her grand story.

The dusty shelves of her hometown's small library laughed at her as she thought back to all those dreams she naively had at thriteen. It was not like Rosine did not strive for her goals. She attended MIT for BioChemical Engineering, finishing top of her class and even completing two years of a masters degree. The professors that worked with her all knew that when Rosine made it to Phd level, then she would be as smart and even maybe as influential as some of the biggest names the world could offer.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the sudden death of her father when she was 24. The quickness of it all took such a toll on her mother, that Larissa Millan begged Rosine to come back home. She argued that she was getting old, and that staying in that big home all alone without her father would be too much for her to handle. If only Rosine knew this was a way for Larissa to trap her in the small, uncolourful town she grew up in, guilt tripping her own daughter to stay home with her and not pursue her dreams, then Rosine would’ve found a lovely home for her mother to stay at a long time ago.

This all took place two years ago. Rosine was now 26 and both the manager and only employee at the local bookshop. The place hadn’t seen a grateful customer or let alone a busy day in the past two years Rosine worked there. The old manager had passed away only six months after Rosine started, and she gave up trying to find new workers after another three. No one in this town even gave a thought to reading, and Rosine found that sad to be completely honest.

Though the thought of the emptiness of the bookstore was not as sad as the thought of Rosine’s life. At 22, she had her whole life ahead of her. Finish a Phd in chemical engineering; maybe get another in biology if she was feeling crazy. Work her way up to something big and something that could change the world. But none of that happened. No world altering scenarios have happened since Rosine quit her studies. The only crazy thing she headlined was her return back to her small town outside of Lafayette, Louisiana.

Rosine only missed the southern charm of life when she moved away from home. Screw the small town where people know what has happened in your family before you did. If Rosine could find a way to move to any of the southern states after she finished her schooling, then she would’ve.

All of that was long gone for her now. Rosine Millan lived a repetitive cycle each day, and if she did not change something soon, she was going to lose it.

It was any other normal day for Rosine. Her alarm went off at exactly 6 am sharp, giving her enough time to read her recent novel for about an hour. When 7 rolled around, her waist length wavy hair would flow behind her shoulders as she got ready for the day. A simple pink, white, and purple striped sweater is what she landed on today. Paired with her calf length white skirt covered in lace and little black ballet flats, Rosine was ready for whatever crazy adventures her dusty books would bring her today.

Larissa was not awake by the time Rosine left, and to be honest, she never even saw her daughter when she got home. Rosine’s resentment started right when she realized her mom did not care if she saw her own daughter, just that she could say she finally was not alone. This crossed Rosine’s mind as the bell above the library door ringed over her head. The store opened at 8, and Rosine only had about twenty minutes to get everything prepared for the non existent customers.

By the time 10 rolled around, Rosine was sick and tired of sitting on the uncomfortable stool behind the register and decided to reshelve books that had probably already been moved by her at least fifty times. There truly was nothing for her to do. She had already gone through each chemistry and physics book she kept behind the register, her fifth read of Dracula was only last week, and she noticed that she might have displaced a couple of books in the ancient mythology section last week.

The clock read 2pm around the time Rosine was halfway finished. In all that time, only one person had walked in and that was only because they mistook it for the coffee shop next door. It was all so classic. People walking past the store’s window and looking on at Rosine with pity. They knew what she was capable of, what she went to school to achieve and almost achieved. The people of Rosine’s small town sympathized for the young girl. They just did not plan on talking with her or even giving a sliver of hospitality.

Right as the clock struck 3:13, the bell above the door sang a hopeful song. It startled Rosine so gravely that the large books on sirens in Greek Mythology stumbled right out of her hands and smacked her upper body on the way down to the ground around her feet.

It was two men, and Rosine felt her eyes bug out behind the lenses of her raspberry coloured small, oval shaped glasses. In her whole life, Rosine had never seen these two guys. Newcomers didn’t find themselves in this town, so two new, young, and very attractive Rosine would add, men coming into town was shocking. Even more shocking that they were in her bookstore like they needed something and not like they expected it to have coffee beans spilled on the floor.

The taller of the two seemed more emerged in the kind of books than the other man with him. His shaggy bangs dropped into his eyes over his forehead as he skimmed the titles of the books, quickly putting one down and picking another up when he didn’t find what he was looking for. The shorter (which is saying a lot because he had to be a few good inches taller than Rosine) was looking around the store like he was hyped up on nerves. His body language and persona was having Rosine feel like he was anticipating something. That the only reason he and this other man were here was to get to the thing he was so jittery on doing.

Dean felt as though someone was watching him. The store seemed vacant, but for some reason, it felt as though eyes were piercing the back of his skull. Turning towards the back of the store where a couple rows of vertical bookshelves stood, Dean spotted the most interesting girl he had ever seen. She didn’t seem like any of the other townsfolk. Everyone was so bubbly, happy and like every day for them would be walking on the clouds and shitting out rainbows. This girl looked to be afraid of her own shadow, eyes widening to the size of saucers when Dean caught her eye. He smiled as he watched the girl quickly whip her head back to the shelf in front of her. The long hair resting above her hips smoothing over in her hand as she brought the strands to her lips.

She wanted to smack herself. Rosine finally had customers and now the very attractive young guy probably thinks she’s a total creep. As she turned her back towards the two strangers to collect herself and put more books away, Rosine didn’t notice the pending look on Dean’s face. The girl seemed interesting, and if asking her for help on the whereabouts of the book would lead him toward the smell of pie next door then he would do whatever.

“Hi there.” Rosine actually startled as a deep voice sounded from behind her. Slowly turning around, she noticed it was the man who caught her staring earlier. Looking up at him wide eyed, Rosine shyly smiled and fixed the glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Hello! What can I help you with?” The girl’s voice had a slight southern twang to it, and Dean was starting to grow more fond of her as the time grew on forward.

Shining one of his award-worthy smiles, Dean leaned against one of the bookshelves and took notice of the girl's shaky body language. “Me and my brother over there were just wondering if you had any books on ancient Gods and Goddesses. It’s for a book report and we need it pretty badly.” Rosine’s face twisted in confusion at his words. It wasn’t for the type of book he wanted, Rosine had plenty of those. The girl was just curious about where these two guys would go to school around here. They didn’t seem to be in high school, and the closest university was an hour and a half away.

Brushing off the weird feeling she got in her gut, Rosine moved an inch way down the shelf and reached on her tiptoes for the exact book the man was looking for. As she was diverted away from his view, Dean took a chance to get a glimpse of her side profile. The girl was gorgeous, he couldn’t lie. With her big round eyes and sharp facial features, the girl could practically be one of the Goddesses in the book he and Sam needed.

Her waist length hair flowed with her as she moved, and Dean found it almost hypnotizing. Almost as though the rhythm of the motions was supposed to draw him in. A small cough brought him from his daydreams, and Dean looked up to realize she had been staring at him trying to get his attention. The awkwardness creeped into Dean’s body, but at least they were now even for catching each other looking at the other.

“Here you go.” Rosine’s voice came out in a timid squeak, and Dean couldn’t help the big, cheesy grin that overtook his face. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Usually, if a man called her anything along those lines, Rosine’s cheeks would be as red as a firetruck. But her senses were shot as her hand brushed his. Instantly, the scene of the man and his brother fighting a tall blonde, glowing, God-like figure came into her head. It shocked her, for the imagery flashed in her brain like a bullet train, but she could see it so clearly.

To Dean, it looked as though the girl had spaced out. Face blank and void of any emotions. But to Rosine, it was like her mind was on autopilot. When she snapped out of her trance she gasped and stepped far back from Dean’s confused figure. She didn’t know what to do, and Rosine always knew what to do.

Her wide eyed stare alerted Dean that him and Sam should probably get going. When he asked Rosine if he and his brother could take the book out for a couple of days, Rosine just nodded, telling him she’d do the book transaction when he left. The girl needed to be alone, but as Sam and Dean were almost out the door, she felt herself speaking in a volume she hadn’t gotten to since she was 23. “It’s a Goddess.”

Her voice startled Sam and Dean to a halt. Both brothers turned around and stared at her with mirrored confusion. Though all Rosine could do was mimic her sentence. “A Goddess is what you should look for, not a God.” She paused for a second and then continued with her nails retracting to her mouth. “Also, go for the blondes.”

Rosine’s statement had both Sam and Dean looking at each other confused and very much suspicious, but they didn’t want to assume anything before they got to the books. With a curt thank you from Sam, Rosine was alone, and she started pacing back and forth thinking what possibly could have just happened to her.

As the night progressed, Rosine found herself wondering if whatever happened earlier was just all in her imagination. It couldn’t have been though, it was so real. Rosine was a woman of science, and science always taught that you needed hardcore proof to back up your thesis. So with her bag slung over her shoulder, Rosine made her way to the abandoned greenhouse she recognized in her - could she call it a vision? She really didn’t know what just happened but vision was the closest thing to it.

The overgrown vines and dark, twisting roads had the jitters wrestling in Rosine’s stomach, but she needed to know what was going on in her mind. Better yet, she needed to know if that vision was true and if those two men were safe or not. The front of the greenhouse was covered in ivy, crawling from the bottom foundation all the way to the glass roof. When Rosine got closer to the door, she could hear a struggle going on inside. Slowly making her way to the entrance and peeking her head through the crack, Rosine saw something truly unremarkable.

A large figure looming over the ground with a glowed aura was throwing the two men from the bookstore around with what seemed to be the flick of her hand. That alongside the fact that what she envisioned was real had a gasp ripping through Rosine’s throat. Her voice shocked everyone in the room - including Rosine, and Sam and Dean were looking at her with puzzled expressions

Dean couldn’t believe it. What was she doing here? Better yet, how did she even know they were here? The greenhouse was pretty secluded from the rest of town. And why was she looking at the ancient Goddess with a look like she just had a eureka moment?

“I knew it.” Rosine whispered to herself. Sam’s head turned like a lost puppy at this comment. What does she mean by she knew? The girl’s body emerged into the doorway now, and Dean was starting to get increasingly more worried about the very old being’s evil presence mucking about. “I knew what I envisioned was real. I’m not crazy!”

Envisioned? Oh god, she was another one of the yellow eyed demons little chess pieces. It all made sense. How she knew where to find them, the fact that she knew that it was a Goddess instead of a God. It was all clicking in Sam's mind; also Dean’s, who was looking at him with the look he gave his brother when they were both on the same page.

Everything made sense until they looked back over at the Goddess. Her face was pale, a shocked sheen overcoming her eyes. Almost as though the sight of Rosine was unbelievable. “It can’t be.” She spoke, reeling forward to get a better look at the girl. “The prophecies foretold the coming of the seer, but we never imagined her to be so. . . strange looking.”

The comment had Dean’s eyebrow raising and Sam’s jaw hitting the floor. Though Rosine wasn’t as shocked as she should be. She looked more kicked down then mind blown. With nimble fingers playing with the ends of her hair, Rosine started to shuffle on the spot. “I get the glasses are a little out of the box but strange looking? I’d go for more of one of a kind.”

“Hold on. Everyone stop for a minute.” Sam came in between Rosine and the otherworldly creature. Hands out like he was breaking up a schoolyard fight. “What the hell do you mean she is a seer?” Dean’s voice filtered through the room, shock and a little bit of confusion in his voice. “What the hell even is a seer?”

The Goddess started walking around the group in circles, eyes drawn dangerously on Rosine. “The seer. The one who foretells the future. Gifted with visions of what’s to come. Her gift bares no pain, she can see into the future whenever she feels immense danger or when she pleases.” Rosine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Yeah her ideals heavily relied on scientific factors, but she always had a small inkling that something supernatural was lurking out in the world. Who knew it only took till 2005 and the knowledge that she was a seer to find out?

Dean was gazing on at the girl like she was a beacon of light drawing him in. He couldn’t believe it. This girl who was so smart, so unique, and very much just herself was the only seer on the planet. Yeah, Sam had his visions, but he didn’t ask for those. They were painful and caused his brother immense agony. But this girl, she was destined to be this way. Her gift wasn’t grotesque and torturous like Sam’s. It was graceful and built in the stars. A rose without all it’s twisted and jagged thrones.

“That’s amazing.” Dean breathed out, watching as Rosine turned to him and blushed cherry red. Words layed on the tip of his tongue, and he could tell Sam wanted to say something too, but the Goddess beat them to it. “Too bad we have to kill you, Rosine Millan.” Her words had Sam and Dean jumping back into fight mode, though all that was going through Dean’s head was, ‘Rosine. What a pretty name.’

Rosine stood back, watched as the two brothers fought this creature who was trying to kill her. That weirdly was not going through her head. All Rosine could think of was, ‘How did she know my name?”

The fight led on, and after Sam delivered the final blow, killing the Goddess for good, he and Dean could finally get some answers on who this girl was. Turning towards the girl, Sam put his gun away and slowly walked over to Rosine; who was now huddled by the door and holding the frame like her life depended on it. Reaching his hand out, Sam allowed Rosine to grasp onto his palm. Guiding her out as he felt a relaxed squeeze be delivered to his hand.

“You’re okay.” He spoke softly, watching as Dean started to grab all their things and head to the Impala. “My name is Sam Winchester and that is my older brother Dean. What about you?” His question had a wave of panic rolling through the girl. She was never good with introductions, and she could already feel the ramblings rolling off her tongue before the words even came out. “Well, my name is Rosine Annabelle Millan! I was born on October 30th, 1979 - which makes me a Scorpio! I was born and raised right here in Louisiana and-”

Her excited yet nervous rambles were cut off by Sam’s joyous giggle. He could already tell that Rosine was a fun girl to be around and he hadn’t even known her a day. “I didn’t mean for you to tell me your whole life story. Just a little fact, if that is fine with you.” Rosine smiled brightly at this, she loved facts. And as her and Sam walked out into the chilly night air, she could see Dean perking up so he could catch a bit of her stories.

“I really like science. I actually studied BioChemical Engineering at the Massachusetts Institution of Technology. I was planning on getting a doctorate in Chemical Engineering and Biology, Physics if I was feeling crazy, but my dad died when I was 24, and my mom didn’t want to be all alone. So here I am! Back home like nothing ever happened.” The shocked look on Dean’s face could be seen from a mile away. He thought Sammy was pretty smart for going to Stanford for pre-law. But MIT? Studying Engineering with sprinkles of the three sciences? This girl had to be a genius.

While Sam and Rosine talked for a while, Dean couldn’t help but think of Rosine and the thought of seer’s. He didn’t even know they existed, another supernatural being he assumed to be a fable. But this girl was one, and she was real. And for some reason, Dean couldn’t stop taking small glances at her over Sam’s body. Something was drawing him to this girl. He didn’t know what, but Dean was going to do his damn best to find out.

“You should come with us.” Dean broke the conversation between Sam and Rosine. He watched as Rosine’s widened and Sam looked at him with a confused look. “What do you mean?” A little bit of her southern accent peaked out, and Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Sam and I, we hunt monsters, supernatural creatures alike. I just thought it would be best that you tag along so you can understand what you are more.”

Rosine was stumped. She didn’t know what to do. Sam broke through her thoughts as he went to stand beside Dean in front of the Impala. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know leaving your home and your mom would be pretty hard. But Dean has a point. It would be nice for you to figure out this whole seer thing.” The two men made a good point, and Rosine was starting to realize how crappy her life really was.

A washed up MIT graduate who didn’t even make it to her first doctorate, back in her hometown running a store no one even cared to look into with a mom who didn’t give two pigs about her as long as she could keep everything under her control. Rosine finally meant something. She wasn’t that shy girl who people picked on in elementary school. She wasn’t the girl who had no friends in university, too busy in a lab. And she most certainly wasn’t the girl who let others opinions on her damper her spirit.

She was a fucking seer, and Rosine Millan was going to grasp at whatever she could with this opportunity.

When Sam and Dean started to think that maybe Rosine just wasn’t ready an excited squeal erupted from the woman’s car, shocking them into both looking over in her direction. With a determined look in her round eye’s, Rosine pushed up her glasses on the bridge of her nose and put one hand on her hip in a matter of fact movement. “I’m in! When do we leave?”

#supernatural #imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester series #dean winchester fanfiction #chapter one

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ghoastixx · 8 months ago

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Welcome To My Blog

I am a fandom writer, some names you can refer to me by are Casey, Ghoast, Theseus, Ri,

Some things you should know about me are that fact that I beg for asks then ignore them. I’m sorry if I never get around to writing them, but I really try. I go on huge hiatuses. I’m sorry. Please don’t urge this to not request at all. I’m getting better.

My blog is 15+

My pronouns are he/they/ (she maybe)

What I’ll write:

X reader (self inserts)

Gn reader

LGBTQIA+ themes

Fluff

Angst no comfort

Angst with comfort

Pairings

Platonic

Romantic

Parental figures

Comfort

Age gaps (legal)

Polyamory

Au’s (no alpha omega I’ll kms)

What I refuse to write

Incest

Underage relationships

Pedophilia

Rape

Abuse as a kink

Slurs

Anything with piss, shit, or vomit

Self harm as a kink

Huge age gaps

Real actual people- (I think it’s personally weird.)

Zoophillia

Ageplay

The fandoms I write for/ characters

Sweeney Todd:

Sweeney Todd

Ms.Lovett

Scream

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Tatum Riley

Sidney Prescott

Ghostface (masked)

The Lost Boys

Micheal

David

Paul

Marko

Dwayne

Halloween

Micheal Myers (original)

A nightmare on elm street

Freddy Kruger

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Dr. Frank N’ Furter

Beetlejuice

Lydia

Adam & Barbra

House of 1,000 corpses trilogy

Otis Driftwood

Baby Firefly

The Boy 1

Brahms

Creep 1

Josef

Hazbin Hotel

Charlie Morningstar

Lucifer Morningstar

Adam

Alastor

Rosie

Husker

Helluva Boss

Blitzø

Stolas

To Kill A Mockingbird

Atticus Finch

Gravity Falls

Stanford Pines

Stanley Pines

Bill Cipher

Labryinth

Jareth the goblin king

Guardians of the Galaxy

Peter Quill

Gamora

Nebula

Yondu

Venom

Eddie

Venom

Eddsworld

Tom

Edd

Matt

Tord

Pirates of the Caribbean

Jack sparrow

Bill and Ted’s excellent adventure

Bill

Ted

Heathers

Veronica sawyer

Edward Scissorhands

Edward

The Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy

Effie Trinket

President Snow (Coriolanus)

Katniss Everdeen

Peeta Mellark

SuperNatural

Castiel

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lucifer

Gabriel

The Outsiders

Sodapop Curtis

Darry Curtis

Dally

The silence of the Lambs Franchise/ Hannibal

•Doctor Hannibal Lecter

•Clarice Starling

Hannibal NBC

Hannibal

Will Graham

#fanfic #fanfiction #bill and ted’s excellent adventure fanfic #hazbin hotel #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #sweeney todd: the demon barber of fleet street #Sweeney Todd fanfiction #slashers x reader #tsotl #hannibal

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oldsargasso · 26 days ago

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pit babe movie stream of consciousness

staying up very very late to watch a movie recut of a show I've already seen several times…what a time to be alive.

Dean cleaning the helmet for sooo long kills me every time

forgot Babe blatantly hitting on Charlie immediarely like okay buddy. the first thing I notice about a stalker is how hot they are as well.

anybody else incredibly distracted by babe's tits in that tight white shirt

what DO they call you babe btw

my soul would genuinely leave my body trying to watch this in a cinema full of other people. I'm here clutching my chest and making squeaky noises how do people watch things normally

I'm genuinely insane over this like!!! the way charlie is kissing him the way babe is touching charlie's face. they were gone IMMEDIATELY. worth the price of admission for this extended scene tbh

forgot how insanely delightful everyone's faces are in the bar scene where Babe brings Charlie along for the first time

I love winner so muchhhhhh

the car winner uses for the drag racing is hot tbh the tyres??

the EYE CONTACT the SONG they are IN LOVE five minutes after meeting each other it's honestly wild

god this scene with the rosy dawn light coming in I CAN.NOT. it's so gorgeous. GIVE US THE LONGER SCENE YOU WOACRDS (<- not fixing this typo I love it)

dean's in his crime hoodie

I never noticed jeff's litle smile in thisd scene before! he knows he can do it!!

insaaaane watching this scene knowing charlie already knows all of it.

the little "well, I also want something from you" exchange is sooooo.

it doesn't have quite the same emotional weight coming so soon but goddd their first kiss still has me clutching at my heart. SO SOFT AND ALSO TENDER!!!!

babe's delicate soft curtains are p[erfect

tony's bonsai time is so deserving of being included regardless of plot-relevance of the conversation happenning

the fact that in this cut we see Kenta first in babe's flashback holding him to get hurt and then now as Tony's proper assistant sure is something

Alan the strongest man alive I would give Dean everything he wanted the moment he asked nicely HE DESERVES IT

"you're a promising young racer" so he HAS been racing already just not anything major

everyone's squeaky shoes on the garage floor is killing meeeee I've never noticed that before

PETE!!! is his suit not fitted correctly

bitchy way my beloved. the peanut gallery just like :D the whole time lmao

godddd the fact that charlie is the only one jeff lets close for so long 😭😭😭

"meditate" is that what the kids call it these days

I never noticed dean all in black for this race

I adore how the only time Kim looks pleased is right before they finish and he knows he beat babe for real

Winner is soooo delightful how can anyone hate him. so pathetic. so terrible.

babe being so overcome by charlie's steady belief in him…if anyoen needs me I'll be on the floor.

tony's pinstripe suit IMPECCABLE

charlie must be the fastest runner around

oh thank god they left the kim confronting winner scene in IT'S PERFECT (second only to the cigarette scene but alas)

jeff, way and dean all in x hunter gear during this scene when they're all on different sides itches my brain like crazy

charlie walking in and blocking dean out….chef's kiss

the way Way is trying to be like "wow Charlie's LYING to you" and babe's just like "they're brothers yay"

they left in the sponge bath scene kill me babe's little smile DEATH

just realised what's missing where's l;actasoy

"I don't care" he said, caring deeply

babe gives up soooo easy truly the babygirl of all time

honestly understandable from dean in the long run I too would try and murder someone who waltzed in and took the job I was gunning for just because they were sleeping with someone. and then babe's just like "sorry dean you're just not good enough" like! murder. acceptable tbh.

they need to put little nametags hovering over the cars in this scene for idiots like me who can't understand anything because all cars look the same

way in his sunnies god he's SOOOO pretty and soooo unimpressed by everything that is happening in front of him

the subtitle's translating phi as brother like. hm.

this scene under the stars is the prettiest scene ever. the headlights, the fog… gorgeous. THEY ARE IN LOVE BTW

COWARDS GIVE US THE MAMA/PAPA ROLEPLAY BEGINNINGS

way hates everything so much I love it

honestly insane of babe to light his cigarette off way's like NO WONDER way's in love with him

god this scene is exruciating. babe knowing and ignoring so they can stay best friends. way just hoping the whole time.

way's breakdown in the car deservedly included SO PRETTY

honestly wild that kim and babe are like half a room away and tony and co don't notice. there's a SHEER CURTAIN in between and then babe yells at charlie lmao

charlie giving babe the glass of water is such a great note in this scene

the fact that this is the first time they're mentioning babe's sense disapearing is hilarious tbh this movie cut is really for people who watched the show

locker room scene in the flashback my beloved

they dropped the child plotline but still kept the enigma mention in lmao AND THE "can mama not break up with papa" incredible

this is my favourite scene I think the HUG "you have to make up for it for the rest of your life" that's marriage actually

bloodied kim on his knees LOOKING RESPECTFULLY 👀👀👀

HOW is tony's security so bad. jeff is RIGHT THERE

Pete buying all the kids to save them 🥺 the only rich man who should be allowed to live

who's phone IS jeff using. I say kenta's

Pete immediately punching babe back is my favourite thing actually

Pete's casual "btw I am the most powerful guy around" and we don't even know he can read minds yet

Way bluescreening as Babe reveals Pete's an enigma. nut is SUCH a good actor

'Charlie ❤️' leave me here to die actually

it's the way Way is so CALM about it it's skin-crawling

at all times I am wondering why Tony values babe's powers over Way's. he can MIND CONTROL PEOPLE

it's midnight and there's still an hour to go. I could pause and continue tomorrow but no. we are committed.

way getting slapped and bent over the table is just for me actually 👀

Winner's smug face!!! that's my boy

jeff's lucky he established himself as very stoic because his reaction is like "oh well. I guess he died. 🫤"

wait I]m not emotionally capable of watching babe go trhough this

honestly pit babe having such a raw real depiction of grief is. I'm constantly thinking about it.

not enough Kenta in this cut but thankfully they left in him getting slapped until there's blood in his mouth. best scene.

way getting tossed around 👀 I am watching very respectfully

aww we didn't get the kim getting not rescued scene. this movie cut isn't great for north and sonic enjoyers (everyone)

pete's sweaters look so soft

babe appealing to kenta using their shared history my HEART

kenta! on! his! knees! kenta begging…. I will never be normal about this

imagine giving winner responsibilities 💀

pete dressing down by wearing a hoodie zipped alllll the way up

they really went "eh people will get the gist" when cutting these scenes lol. dean just straight up disappeared.

alan just leaving the kids behind I cannot get over that like WHAT are you doing

actually this would've been amazing in the show too if this was the first we saw of charlie after he died. this reunion lives in my mind forever the way babe's voice goes all wavery as he says charlie's name "when you weren't here, I wasn't happy at all" GOD. charlie starting to understand that he is important to babe because of WHO he is

they gave pete a chair but not way lol

I know its not the point but jeff's pants are like. perfect.

I hope winner is exactly the same in season 2 he's perfect 😌

I know that scene's not in this cut but what's the point of pete being so good with a bow and arrow if he can't also use a gun just as well. like one's a little more practical these days

KNIFE🔪 TIME 🔪 it's the best. that single tear… kill me as well actually

the fact that none of them even tried to crawl over to way while tony was monologuing they didn't even TRY

I forgive every flaw when babe cries so well and way is so pretty even dying

(god I'm so hungry but it's like 1am)

charlie kissing babe's stomach and babe calling him "dad" that's because babe's pregnant actually 🤠

LOCKERROOM SCENE AS THE POST CREDITS SCENE genius. give them an oscar right now.

final verdict: no regrets definitely worth ~$20 and staying up late for no reason

#oldsargasso speaks #I feel like I shouldn't tag this because it is truly nonsense ramblings lol #but I might want to find it later #pit babe

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jungle-angel · 2 months ago

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Those First Few Steps (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: Ellen reaches a huge milestone and you and Calvin couldn't be prouder

Warnings: Parenthood etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @ateliefloresdaprimavera

It was a picture perfect fall day with the leaves having turned all shades of gold, brown, orange and red, the smells of pumpkin, apples and maple syrup having filled your house along with cinnamon and cloves from the pies that your mother-in-law had made for after dinner that night.

Six Thirty and Rosie had just been let in from outside and were snoozing away on the sofa while Calvin had begun scribbling away in his work notebook for lesson plans that coming Monday. Already his students had gotten a thorough introduction to base elements, ionic and covalent compounds, calculations and chemical bonding and soon would be ready for more hands on experiments.

He smiled when he saw Ellen crawling around on her pink and yellow knitted blankie which had been spread across the living room floor. Calvin smiled but sighed a little. She was already nine months old and getting so big, crawling around and chasing after her four legged companions as though she were their own pup. Calvin remembered all too well how tiny she had been when you had brought her home, just two days before Christmas Eve the year before and couldn't believe where the time had gone.

"You're still lesson planning?" you asked him, carrying the plate that had his lunch on it.

"Unfortunately," he chuckled. "The dean wants a full and thorough list of all the lesson plans for the semester on top of all the grant letters."

You groaned and rolled your eyes. Every department at the college would have to submit letters for research or class grants in order to keep their funding for future classes. You and the girls absolutely HATED groveling to the board in every grant letter you had ever written, but it was a necessary evil that both you, Calvin and the rest of the college staff were willing to put up with.

Six Thirty suddenly let out a high pitched whine and when you and Calvin turned your eyes to the sofa, there was Ellen hoisting herself up onto her chubby little legs. She gripped the cushions and slowly moved one leg and then the other, her little baby shuffle making you and Calvin go wide-eyed.

You and Calvin both encouraged her to walk right to you with Six Thirty and Rosie carefully watching her every step, the two of you laughing and cheering for her when Ellen finally made it into Calvin's hands. He kissed her cheeks as she screeched and clapped her little hands, finally having just taken her first steps.

"Are you crying?" you asked, noticing Calvin wiping away a few tears.

"No sweet pea, my eyes are itchy," he laughed.

You laughed too calling his bullshit right off the bat before he kissed you and then Ellen. You two couldn't have been prouder of your precious little princess and her first steps.

#calvin evans #calvin evans x reader #lessons in chemistry

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aylacavebear · 7 months ago

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The Traveler - Chapter 10 - Levithar Labyrinth

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 6541

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Angst, fluff. A/N: Don't think there's anything else in this one. It's fairly relaxed.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 10 - Levithar Labyrinth

The water wasn’t cold, nor was the air as you stepped on the shoreline. Looking at the plant life around you, you felt relatively small. Large, multicolored mushrooms scattered the nearby landscape, with tall tufts of grass dotted between them. You felt your body returning to its normal appearance, the scales disappearing, and the fur returning to your tail.

Your ears twitched with the many sounds that seemed to come from all around. None of them sounded threatening, just creatures doing their normal daily things. Small things like the rustling of leaves, chirping, hum of wings in the sky, and even distant songs of things you could only assume lived in packs. Some of the sounds you weren’t even sure how to describe.

When you looked skyward, the beauty of the duel suns almost made your jaw drop. The sky was a beautiful, deep indigo color, reminding you of the hour before twilight. One Sun was a pale yellow, while the other a soft, rosy pink. Hanging low on the horizon, the two cast long shadows and gave the landscape an otherworldly hue.

I’ll need to find shelter for the night.

The mushrooms were an array of colors. Some were shades of purples and blues, others were vibrant pinks and oranges, and some of the smaller ones were in pastels. Above the mushrooms were plants that reminded you of sunflowers from Earth. Their stalks were as tall as trees, and their petals were broad and vibrant. The flowers were in full bloom, providing sustenance for the creatures of this world.

You slipped out of your wet clothes, wringing them out, along with your hair. Finding jeans, a T-shirt, one of Dean’s flannels, socks, and shoes, you got dressed. You slipped your new knife on your belt loop before tying your damp clothes on your bag for them to air dry while you walked. Before moving on, though, you knelt at the water’s edge.

Here goes nothing.

At first, you looked down at the water. There wasn’t much under its surface: some small stones here and there, but no plant life or aquatic creatures. Tilting your head for a moment, you wondered if perhaps this was only a puddle as if it had just rained in this world.

Cupping your hands, you dipped them into the water, then brought your hands to your lips, drinking the water of this world. For a moment, your eyes glowed a soft blue as a warm, tingly feeling traveled throughout your body.

Levithar Labyrinth…

Images of massive insects, plants, and even larger reptilian creatures played through your mind. Then, there were other creatures covered in fur. You understood where each creature fit within the food chain of this world. At least with being as tiny as you were, the larger creatures would take no interest in you. You’d have to worry about other things, like the bugs, spiders, and smaller predators that would find you a tasty meal.

That was when you felt them, turning to look over your shoulder. Beautiful shimmering wings unfurled, reminding you of Fairy wings. They were translucent and delicate, with black lines between the shades of soft colors, almost like stained-glass windows from Earth. The intricate patterns along them was something you marveled at. Deep blue and purple colors edged them, shifting to hues of reds, pinks, and oranges closer to the base. You had an innate knowledge of how they functioned, but mastering their use would take practice.

It took a moment before you could feel the muscles controlling their movement. As you watched them open and close slowly, a smile came to your lips. Lucky for you, they didn’t glow or give off light. They even darkened as the light of the setting suns diminished.

I need to find some shelter. I can figure out the wing thing later.

With your spear in hand, you looked at your surroundings again and sighed. There really wasn’t somewhere in front of you that would make a decent place for shelter, not without building one, and it was clear that the suns would set before you’d find what you needed.

Which direction should I go?

Being as close to the ground as you were, it wasn’t like you could tell what was in any direction, not being able to see much of anything but the immediate plants around and above you. You looked up at the sunflower blooms.

That would give me a better vantage point.

You went over to the closest stem, which was as thick around as a tree, determined to climb it. Carefully tying your spear to your bag, slung over your shoulder, you used your claws and began the long climb. You’d climbed plenty of trees in your village in your home world, and this was just as easy. The last world had forced you to use your muscles in different ways, and you realized that your strength had grown considerably.

After an arduous climb, you finally reached a broad, sturdy platform formed by the base of the sunflower bloom. As you settled onto the expansive leaf, you took in the breathtaking view around you. From your new vantage point, you were surrounded by a landscape of incredible scale. Directly beneath you, the sunflower stem continued down toward the ground, but you could now see beyond the immediate area. The ground was a vast patchwork of flowers, mushrooms, and grasses, forming a mosaic of vibrant colors and textures. Towering mushrooms with caps as wide as horses dotted the landscape, their shades of purple, orange, and green creating a fantastical vista.

Clusters of flowers were scattered throughout the landscape, their petals shimmering in hues of blue, pink, and gold. Interspersed among the flowers, thick grass swayed gently in the breeze, creating a sea of soft greens that stretched out into the distance.

To one side, you could make out a dense forest on the horizon, the treetops rising like jagged mountains in the distance. The forest was a tapestry of dark greens and blues, giving off an air of mystery and wonder. Near that was a rock formation that didn’t look nearly as tall as the trees.

The sky above was an enchanting indigo as the two suns were setting in the distance on the other side of a vast mountain range. It would be night quickly, as you could already see the darkness creeping from the opposite horizon.

A forest would mean protection but also danger. Rocks could provide a safe shelter as long as nothing else lived in them. Although I’m rather small, perhaps there is a tiny crevice that would be safe.

You debated your direction and plan of action as the suns continued setting. With how far away the mountains were, those were definitely out of the question. You also knew you wouldn’t make it to the forest, either. The rock formation, though, was far more possible. What was making you question that was that you’d need to figure out flying.

Taking a deep breath, you stood, taking your spear in hand, then sighed. You tied your spear back onto your bag, then just held onto the straps as you flexed the muscles that controlled your wings.

Use the currents in the air. It’ll be easier.

You took what Aquanox had told you when it came to the water currents and equated it to flying. Being up as high as you were and being as tiny as you were, the air currents should be able to keep you afloat for a while. If you paid attention to where the currents were and how they moved, you figured you’d make it to the rock formation with little to no effort.

One more deep breath, and you spread your wings, feeling the gentle current in the air as you stepped off the sunflower's leaf. The air currents were very similar to the water currents. You moved your wings till you felt the current catch under them just right, and you began gliding along almost effortlessly.

Making sure to watch the skies, you shifted from current to current over what you could now see was a vast meadow. The pool of water you had emerged from was nothing more than a puddle, and there were several of them. Tiny, glowing blue lights drifted around the meadow, reminding you of glow bugs from Earth.

Lumifly.

The word played through your mind, watching the lights before fixing your gaze on the rock formation again.

Not a threat.

The currents took you further along and higher, now quite a ways above the meadow. You heard movement to your right and were astonished at the sight. They were beautiful, reminding you of horses of Earth, their hair in shades of blue in the moon’s light. An entire herd of them and the foals were playing in the field of flowers.

Moon Mares.

You smiled, floating on a current, just watching them for a moment or two before moving on. There were typically flying predators you knew you’d have to keep an eye out for. At least you were tiny; otherwise, you might have wanted to ride one of the mares.

Halfway to the rock formations, a dark shadow passed above you. Instinct kicked in, so you darted to the nearest sunflower, using the leaves at the base of the petals to stay hidden.

Well, this is going to make things harder.

Furrowing your brow, annoyed, you looked toward the sky again, locating the moon and then where the creature should have been. Although, you couldn’t see anything in the sky.

“Weird…” you mumbled, turning to look in the other direction, still not seeing anything.

The sound of beating wings made your ears twitch, and your gaze moved toward the sound. The creature was smaller than you expected yet still large enough to pose a potential threat. It looked like a young, black cat with wings that matched its coat, covered in sleek, inky black fur. The wings were broad and covered in furry feathers. You were far too small to enjoy it as if it were a cat from Earth.

Its sharp yellow eyes gleamed with intelligence and curiosity. Its whiskers twitched as it studied you, and its movements were agile and fluid, a graceful combination of feline and avian traits.

“Why are you hiding?” it spoke to you.

You tilted your head, completely flabbergasted at hearing a cat speak, and had no clue what to say to it.

“I’m not going to eat you. You’re like me, just different,” it purred.

You peeked out carefully from behind the petal you’d been hiding behind, blinking in confusion at the creature. “I, uh… How can you talk?”

“You’re funny,” it chuckled, landing on the ground near the sunflower you were hiding on. “All my kind talk. So do most of the creatures here. I’m Bakeshi of the Ket. Who and what are you?”

The moment it asked its question, it tilted its head, reminding you of a curious cat back on Earth. You’d seen plenty of them on TV. “I’m Y/N. I’m an Eldrathiren. I’m what’s known as a Traveler.”

“What’s a Traveler?” she asked you, utterly curious.

“It’s sort of a long story,” you mumbled, sitting down on the leaf.

“Then come with me. We can go to my home, and you can tell me all about it,” she offered.

“How do I know you’re still not going to eat me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed hard, holding her paw over her chest, and needed some time to catch her breath afterward. “I like you, Traveler. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. I’m not going to eat you. I prefer the scaly things that climb the trees and hide in the rocks.”

You sighed, supposing that if she truly wanted to eat you, she probably would have already. “Alright. It seems like a better idea than staying out here,” you gave in.

Bakeshi turned so that you could use her wing to climb onto her back. Her fur was soft and warm. You situated yourself just behind her neck, holding onto her fur. Then, she took flight. Her wings were far stronger than yours, meant for lift and sustained flight. Yours, they were more for gliding and riding currents than truly flying.

You watched the herd of mares and smiled one last time before looking ahead. She was taking you toward the forest, which was massive in size compared to your tiny body in this world. The meadow was beautiful from the height she flew. Now, you could see how some of the mushrooms gave off a faint glow due to the moon.

“Are there things here that you worry about?” you asked, curious. It was clear that everything in this world was on a far larger scale than you, so predators were a concern.

“Not really. My kind stick to safe areas. There are predators, but they don’t come where we are and are only a problem when the mares aren’t in the meadow. It’s why I went to talk to you,” she explained.

“That makes sense,” you mused, watching the treeline getting closer quickly.

She weaved through the forest with ease. It was a beautiful place, an entirely different landscape from the meadow. Vines grew up some of the tree trunks, and stunning red flowers bloomed along them. The forest canopy was dense with deep, dark green leaves of varying sizes.

“We’re almost there,” she told you as the forest opened up to a small alcove.

Your jaw practically dropped. On the far side of the pond, there were rock formations. Numerous plants grew around and in the pond, and you almost didn’t see the small openings in the rocks.

“This is where I live. The others will want to meet you, too,” she chuckled.

“How did you even know I was here?” you asked, now curious.

“I felt it, like a vibration in the energy,” she answered fairly plainly.

“Oh,” was all you could really say. It wasn’t like you fully understood this particular world yet.

Bakeshi landed between the rock formations and the pond, “I’m back, and I found her.”

Several of her kind popped their heads out of openings in the rock formation. They were all sorts of colors and sizes. They gathered around Bakeshi in a circle as you stood to look at them all. They were quite adorable, and you wished you were bigger so you could pet and cuddle all of them, especially the little kittens.

“Now you can tell all of us your story,” Bakeshi chuckled.

One of the other Ket pushed over a flat rock to the center of the circle, to which you floated down and sat in the center. They all sat down, picking one side so you could look at all of them, and they all could see you. Then, you told them your story.

“Mamma, you think she could help us?” you heard one of the kittens ask, pulling your attention to the small orange-striped Ket.

“She’s small enough,” its mother replied, looking down at her kitten.

“Help with what?” you asked, now fairly curious.

“Something has felt off in our world, and it keeps getting stronger. I took a few others not long after it started, but none of us are small enough to get into the crevice where the feeling is coming from,” Bakeshi explained.

You thought for a moment, watching all their expressions, that little orange-stripped kitten looking hopeful. “Since all I’m doing is waiting for the scent I’m following to show back up, and you all are so kind by helping me, the least I could do is take a look.”

All of them looked hopeful, happy, and relieved. Half of them even purred. “That’s really nice of you, Traveler,” the little orange-stripped kitten told you.

The little kitten approached you, and you rubbed her head, “If I can help, I will.”

It purred as you rubbed her head and smiled softly. Bakeshi came a little closer, though, “It could get a bit cold for you since you have no fur, Traveler. I will share my home with you to keep you warm for the night.” “Thank you, Bakeshi,” you replied.

As you climbed on Bakeshi’s back, the Ket returned to their little cave homes. She then took you to a higher cave opening in the rock formations. At least you had eyesight like a cat, being able to see in the dark. Bakeshi’s home was roughly five times her size and quite cozy. There was a grass bed on one side of the small cave-like home. To the other was a small table with what looked like berries on it. On the floor next to the table were some stones of various colors and shapes.

“Come, Traveler,” Bakeshi told you, curling up on the bed of grass.

You set your bag and spear down on the table but kept the knife on your belt loop. Then, you curled up against Bakeshi, against her stomach but near her front leg. She was warm and soft. Even the grass under you was welcoming. Your wings were tucked neatly against your back as Bakeshi began drifting off to sleep, a low purr gently vibrating her body.

Oddly enough, you found yourself purring softly, smiling a bit as you closed your eyes. Your thoughts went to the brothers, and you wondered what they might be up to.

I miss you.

After a much-needed, peaceful sleep, you stretched, arms far above your head, and yawned. Bakeshi was still asleep beside you, and you could tell by her breathing. Rolling onto your side, you moved your head to look toward the opening. It was still slightly dark, reminding you of the early morning before the sun would be higher in the sky.

You carefully slipped off the grass bed and headed outside. It, indeed, was a beautiful place in the early twilight. From where you were, you could see fish swimming in the pond and a few frogs hiding along the shoreline. Of course, they didn’t look exactly like the ones from Earth or your home world. They had a uniqueness that belonged to this world alone.

“You’re awake early, Traveler,” you heard Bakeshi behind you.

As you turned to face her, she yawned and stretched, pushing her paws far out in front of her along the smooth entrance stone.

“It's beautiful here. Is the journey long?” you replied, curious about this particular off feeling all the Ket had.

“The journey is half a day’s flight from here. It can wait until tomorrow. You need to learn how to use those wings of yours, and then there is food,” she explained.

“Will you be taking me alone, or will others come?” you asked, unable to stifle your curiosity.

“I’m sure others will come. Safety in numbers,” she replied, giving you a wink.

You couldn’t help but chuckle when she did that. Watching a cat wink was pretty adorable. She motioned for you to follow her as she glided down off the rock formation, so you followed. Bakeshi retrieved what looked like food from another small cave near the base of the formation, setting a chunk down on the rock you sat on the night before.

Looks raw.

“Eat up. It’s the best,” she told you before biting into her piece.

Typically, you cooked all your meat, and this did not look cooked. However, you didn’t want to be rude, so you picked it up hesitantly and took a bite of it. It wasn’t cooked, but it also didn’t taste like raw meat. Huh, almost tastes like one of Dean’s burgers.

“It’s not what I was expecting. Thank you,” you told Bakeshi after swallowing the bite you’d taken. “It’s really good.”

She smiled proudly before returning to her meat, and you did the same. As the morning slowly dawned, bringing light to the little area between the trees, more of the Ket emerged from their cave-like homes.

They seemed to have a fairly decent routine. They ate breakfast, the kittens played with bugs, the adolescents did different chores, and the adults were now gathered around the stone, making plans for not only the day but also who would be going on the flight tomorrow. This was when you realized Bakeshi wasn’t the leader of their little group. It was an older, white Ket. He chose not only Bakeshi but three others near her age. They weren’t adolescents, but they weren’t quite at the age of settling down with a family.

Once they were done with their daily meeting, you went off to play with the kittens, finding them far more fun and laid-back than the others. There were at least a dozen of them, and they, too, could only glide, as their wings weren’t quite strong enough for full flight. They helped you figure out gliding and riding small air currents as you played tag with them around the pond and rock formations.

Watching some of them hunt a small lizard-looking creature was fascinating. They hunted in a pack, working together, even as kittens. You wondered how many times they’d seen or heard about their parents doing the same on some larger creatures. It wasn’t just the girls or boys who participated in hunting; it was both. The Ket went off who was good at what, and you found that heartwarming.

Lunch was an assortment of mushrooms, berries, and what looked like fish meat. The meat in this world was so weird. It clearly wasn’t cooked, but it didn’t taste raw either, and it was delicious. Dinner came and went just as quickly, with three different meats as the chosen meal. You slept in Bakeshi’s home again, curled up into her side like the night before. Only this time, you dreamt of the brothers and, upon waking the following morning, missed them.

Bakeshi was already awake and outside when you found your way out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The sun hadn’t even started lighting up the sky yet, but at least six Ket were sitting around that rock, supplies gathered and having a discussion. You grabbed your stuff and floated down to join them.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Bakeshi teased you, “We’ll leave after you’ve eaten.”

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” you yawned.

“We need you alert for the flight,” she replied as one of the other Ket set a piece of meat in front of you.

One more yawn, and then you began eating quietly as your thoughts wandered, wondering what kind of thing you’d find inside this crevice. Each of the Ket had a pouch around their neck with their supplies. You guessed it was probably food, so they wouldn’t have to attempt to hunt while also taking on this journey.

Settling yourself near Bakeshi’s neck, the six of them took flight. There were the four from the day before and two older Ket, adults. They flew in a diamond formation, with one adult in front, one at the rear, and the younger ones in the middle. You didn’t question it, as this wasn’t your world, and they knew far more about what was out there than you did.

They skimmed the tops of the trees, not flying higher. The twilight of the morning was just beginning to push away the darkness of night. Your ears twitched with the sounds of the early morning. What sounded like wolves in the distance, singing a song of some sort, caused you to look in that direction. At least it wasn’t near the direction you were headed.

“How many creatures here are friendly?” you asked Bakeshi.

“Lots. All the creatures here can talk. There are predators, but we’ll avoid those,” she replied, staying focused on the flight.

The dense forest below seemed to stretch on for miles, but the mountains were getting closer. There were also other small clearings in the forest, like where Bakeshi lived. They were other Ket communities. When the sun finally peeked over the horizon, it was like the world below seemed to come to life, as did the skies.

The group of Ket caught a wind current, taking them higher, now moving much faster than before. You tucked yourself as close against Bakeshi as you could and hung on. You could feel her twist and turn, following the current, before she slowed again. Looking up again, you saw another large meadow coming into view, the mountains much closer now.

They landed near the edge of the meadow, staying just inside the forest. “We will have to be careful crossing the meadow since there are no mares,” Bakeshi explained.

“Why?” you asked, slipping off her back.

“There are no mares nearby. They keep the predators away,” she replied.

They ate in shifts, two of them always keeping an eye on things. Then, four of them went scouting in different directions. While they were scouting, the other two kept watch while you went to the edge of the meadow, looking at the mushrooms again. You just loved the vast array of colors and shapes they grew in.

What felt like almost an hour or more later, the four returned as the calico spoke, “We’ll have to stay inside the forest and skirt the meadow. The Schlange and Raubvogel are hunting.”

“That’s going to make this difficult,” Bakeshi sighed.

Bakeshi lowered her wing so you could climb onto her back again, where you nestled yourself in the crook of her neck. The six of them took flight, but they darted and weaved slowly through the thick leaves of the canopy, using them as cover. It was slow going, but there were times you could have sworn you saw movement, both above in the skies and to the side in the meadow.

Traveling around the meadow took far longer than if they’d been able to just fly across it. They ended up having to go the long way instead of the side closest to the mountains, as that was where the Raubvogel were. None of the Ket made a sound during this part of the flight, even managing to keep their wing beats mostly quiet.

Near the far side of the meadow, the group of Ket moved deeper into the forest, turning back toward the mountains and staying clear of the meadow entirely. They traveled another hour before they flew back above the forest canopy. It took your eyes a moment or two to adjust to the light when you saw them—large shapes in the sky with wings.

“They are Löwin, similar to Ket. They hunt in packs and are not a threat,” Bakeshi told you, almost as if she could feel you tense up.

“If you say so,” you replied, watching them gracefully glide through the air. “Are they hunting or something?”

“Yes. They are hunting in another meadow,” she answered.

You watched them a bit longer before focusing on the mountains, which looked to be only an hour's flight away now. They were massive, with plant life covering them. The group of Ket didn’t go toward the Löwin; although part of you wanted to see them up close, you knew you had something more important to take care of.

You noticed a river coming from the base of one of the mountains, leading through another small meadow with the thick forest on either side. At least you could see the mares in this meadow, knowing it was safe to travel through. You also happened to notice other small animals resembling Earth rabbits but didn’t ask what they were called.

The group of Ket flew further, though, up the mountain from which the stream was coming, landing on a ledge. It was cooler here but not cold, and you could smell the fragrance of flowers nearby. You hopped off Bakeshi’s back, slinging your bag over your shoulder, spear in hand.

“It’s through there,” Bakeshi said, pointing to a small crack in the rock.

To you, that small crack could have been a small cave. “Then, I’ll see what I can find, and I’ll let you know,” you replied, giving her as reassuring a smile as you could manage.

I can do this. What could possibly live in such a small crack?

You took a deep breath and ventured inside. It wasn’t snug, as there was plenty of room on either side of you so that two of you could have walked side by side. However, it was dark, and you were thankful for seeing in shades of grey. The crack looked completely empty, not even a tiny bug anywhere to be seen.

The further along you walked, the more you realized that you were descending. The grade of it wasn’t really noticeable at first. Reaching out and running your hand along the wall of the crack, you found it to be smooth, almost glass-like, or polished.

Your ears twitched, hearing what sounded like faint whispers, but you couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Sometimes, they sounded far away, behind you, in front of you, or even right next to you. Goosebumps danced down your body, but you were determined to figure out what was at the end of this crack.

Beyond the whispers, there was the occasional scent that would catch you off guard. It ranged from flowers to dirt to water, but there was nothing like that inside this crack. You refused to give into the pounding of your heart or the apprehension that had begun creeping in. You’d said you’d help the Ket, so pressed on, further down the crack and deep into the mountain.

You had no idea how long you’d been walking before something shimmered faintly off the polished stone of the walls. It still seemed to be far away.

Huh. Wonder what that is?

Your curiosity was now piqued, adding to your determination as you continued further. The light grew brighter the closer you got, and the odd part was that it was pulsating gently. When the crack finally did open up to a small chamber, you cocked your head to the side. There, on the far side of the chamber, was a small, round, pebble-looking object. It shimmered with all sorts of colors, swirling within it and then out from it when it pulsated.

Reaching down to pick it up, you pulled your hand back slowly, having second thoughts about touching it momentarily. You debated for a second about leaving it there.

I said I’d help.

You clenched your hand, then relaxed, and picked up the small object, which fit in the palm of your hand. It was definitely giving off an energy of some kind, you just couldn’t pinpoint what.

I’d better take this back to Bakeshi and the others.

Closing your hand around the orb, you began the assent back up and out of the crack. By the time you made it back out to where Bakeshi and the others were, it looked as though several hours had passed.

“You’re okay,” Bakeshi said, sounding relieved.

“I think I found what’s been causing the problem, too,” you replied, opening your hand so she could see the small pebble-shaped object.

All six of the Ket just stared at it, speechless, for several moments. With where the crack was situated in the mountain, it was in shade for now.

“It’s kinda pretty,” Bakeshi said, tilting her head.

“We need to take this back to Ghost. He’ll know what to do,” the calico adult stated.

You sighed and put it in your pocket before climbing on Bakeshi’s back for the return flight. They did stop in a similar area to eat one more time before finishing the journey back to their home. You’d also found yourself getting quite sleepy during that last hour. At least there hadn’t been any issues for the return flight, as the mares had been in the meadows this time. When the six landed back at their home, all the Ket were gathered. You carefully slid off Bakeshi’s back, noticing that all their eyes were on you.

“Did you find it?” Ghost asked.

“Yes,” you answered, pulling the small object from your pocket. You held it in the palm of your hand so that he could see it, along with the other Ket.

There were murmurs and whispers from the Ket as Ghost looked at the object, but he never touched it. “There is nothing like that on our world.”

“When did the strange feeling start?” you asked, finding yourself curious about the entire situation.

“About six months ago,” one of the kittens said.

“Did anything weird happen before that?” you asked.

The Ket thought for a while before you noticed a small group of kittens looking rather guilty. You looked sidelong at them curiously as your tail flicked slightly. Ghost took note and followed your gaze.

“Is there something the four of you would like to share,” he asked them, now all eyes on them.

A little tabby spoke up but looked at the ground, “We were up and out of bed when we weren’t supposed to be. We were sitting on the top of the caves, looking at the stars, when something like a streak of light came out of nowhere. It looked like it landed on the mountain.” Half of its explanation was mumbled, but you understood it.

Ghost sighed, animating his entire face before he looked back over at you, “Traveler, when you leave our world, would you take that with you?”

“Of course. It doesn’t seem to bother me like it affects all of you,” you replied, somewhat surprised he’d just let you have something so unique.

“Thank you. There isn’t much we can do to repay you except offer you our home till it is time for you to move on,” Ghost explained, and you could hear the gratitude in his tone.

“That’s very kind of you. I’d like that,” you replied happily.

You opened your pouch and tucked the small object into one of the inner pouches, and the Ket almost looked relieved when you closed it again. After hopping off the stone, several Ket retrieved dinner for everyone. There was laughter and a lighthearted nature during the meal, and afterward, the kittens played with the little light bugs around the pond.

“Bakeshi, do any of your kind go to different communities?” you asked her later that night as the two of you lay down for bed.

“Sometimes. At least once a year, we gather in the spring in the central meadow. Sometimes others will move away or come live with us,” she replied before yawning.

I wonder how long I’ll be here for. It's not a bad place. I just miss them. When it's time, will I get to see them again, or will I end up somewhere else?

You had questions no one had answers to. As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of the brothers again. It hadn’t crossed your mind that you might meet another Traveler along your journeys either, even after your time in the last world. To you, fate had other plans.

Three months. You spent three months with the Ket in this world. By now, you were adept with your wings, even being able to use them for more than just gliding. The air was beginning to get chilly as if fall or winter was coming, and you noticed that the Ket’s coats were getting thicker, changing with the weather.

You’d spent a lot of time with the kittens, who were now adolescents, and learning other things. Bakeshi had even found a mate, which everyone celebrated. As far as Ket’s went, he was handsome, a dark calico around her age. She moved into his cave, leaving hers to you for your stay. His name was Keesha.

One of the younger adolescents joined you to help keep you warm. She was fun and playful. The two of you stayed up late, laughing as quietly as possible over silly things. Her name was Zivira. The two of you were spoken to more than once about going to sleep and not staying up. However, once alone again, you two would burst into quiet laughter about getting talked to.

It was a chilly morning when the scent woke you gently from a peaceful sleep: the mix of leather, old books, a hint of alcohol, and a feeling of home. You smiled as you opened your eyes, Zivira stirring next to you.

“Too early,” she mumbled, not opening her eyes.

You chuckled a little, wondering if cats from Earth thought things like that when they napped. “It's time for me to go, Zivira. I need to get ready,” you told her, turning your head so you could look over at her.

“You won’t get to see the snow though. That sucks,” she grumbled before stretching but hadn’t moved to get up.

“I know,” you sighed, getting up and going to your things.

You pulled out one of Dean’s flannels that he’d put in there when you’d last seen him. His scent was long gone now, but wearing it still gave you comfort, and it was warm. Your wings were tucked down and against your back, so the flannel fit comfortably. With your bag over your shoulder and your spear in hand, you headed toward the opening of the cave. The scent wasn’t present at the moment, and you wondered if you’d shift the moment you went outside.

“I’ll help you get down since your wings are covered,” Zivira told you fairly lazily. She enjoyed sleeping in past sunrise if she could get away with it.

“Thanks,” you replied, smiling a little.

She leaned down, and you climbed on her back near her neck. Then, she headed outside and glided down to the rock, where you slid off her back. Zivira went and woke up several other Ket, who then woke up the rest.

They gave you some food, which you tucked away into your pouch. Then, you hugged almost all of them, saving Bakeshi for last. She was your favorite, your first friend there, and you were going to miss her dearly. The scent drifted across the breeze just as you pulled away from the hug.

“It’s time,” you told them, giving them a small smile, “I’ll miss all of you.”

“We’ll miss you too, Traveler,” Ghost told you.

You waved one last time at them as you walked toward the forest, following the scent. Knowing now that it was the brothers brought a smile to your face. You weren’t entirely sure when the shift would happen, so you just kept walking. When you came across two small saplings along either side of the dirt path you were walking along. Somehow, you just knew this was it.

The scent beckoned you forward, and with a deep breath, you walked between them, the entire scene changing. There were cars in stacks all over the place, and it was barely beginning to get light in the sky. In the near distance, you could see a two-story house, bringing a smile to your face and an excitement to your soul.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 11 - Earth 1999 pt. 1

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list.

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m @foxyjwls007

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povcastiel · 1 year ago

Text

ROAD TO REDEMPTION

[ Well, well, well… I’ve been sitting on this for so long, I caved and decided to allow you all into my mind. My first official series! Giddy up ya’ll, it’s time for outlaw Dean Winchester! As always, please, please let me know what you think and if you wish to be tagged on future postings. Series Main Post Here ]

Synopsis | It’s been five years without him. You’ve moved on, made a new life for yourself. But no one can really outrun the past, right?

Tags | Supernatural Western!AU, Cowboy!Dean, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Winchester Brothers, Outlaws, BrothelWorker!Reader, Female!Reader, Priest!Castiel, Dean x Reader

Warnings | Eluding to violence, Minor sexual context, Angst, Loathing, Mentions of blood/harm, Mentions of religion

Word Count | 3k~

Rating | R, MDNI

Barren land stretched on for miles, out in the open with only the stars and moon to spy upon you. A raging fire warmed your cheeks, now a rosy shade and possibly darker if he was to continue looking at you in that way. He stoked the flames a while longer, as they licked higher and higher into the air, until eventually settling. A crackle and pop were the only sounds that passed in the silence between you. Dean rose to his feet. His frame towering and broad. You proceeded to pull the quilt, around your shoulders, more tightly to your hunched form. He tended to the horse in the meantime.

“We’ll have to move by first light.” He informed you, his voice distant but soft.

The hair that was once tucked behind your ear had fallen down against the side of your face. Thick and long, cascading down your back.

“I know…” You murmured, clearly lost within your own thoughts. Your eyes drifted down to the torn, tattered fabric of your lace trimmed dress. Leather boots just as worn to accompany.

Suddenly, he was kneeling in front of you. His hat was left hanging on his satchel. The glow of the fire illuminated his features, delicate for someone so burly and gruff. His face covered in a shadow of stubble, hair long and pushed back. A white undershirt clung to his chest, jeans covered in dirt, barely even a shade of blue. He reached for your hand, wrapped snug in a torn piece of your cotton gown. The blood had soaked through and worry seemed to stretch across his brow when he looked it over.

“It’s okay.” You attempted to reassure him, but your tone wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped. He dismissed it and went on to unwrap the makeshift bandage.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asked, green eyes raging with concern. His soft fingertips ghosted over your wrist, a contrast to how rough they appeared. His hands alone could tell stories of what he’d endured, the life he’s lived.

“Not bad.” You shrugged, as the blanket fell off one of your shoulders. That was a lie. The cut was deep, and had been throbbing the entire journey.

He reached for his canteen of water and laid it in your lap. Encouraging you to hydrate, while he pulled out a familiar silver flask. The cap spun with a metal swirl and before he could chug down what was left, you opted for the alcohol over water. Dean was easily caught off guard, watching the liquid flowing into your mouth. You gulped and bared the sting with tight closed lips, before using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth.

“Easy, darlin’…” He snickered, taking a swig. “Drink some water. You’ll need it.” He insisted, motioning to the jug.

“Are you implying I’m weak?” You quipped with a raised brow.

“I ain’t saying anything, but you tend to find yourself in a lot of trouble.” He chuckled, low in his chest. White teeth gleaming. Such a charmer he was.

…

The thunder crashed on. Rain steady against the roof. Dry ground had now turned to mush. Clear Tusk had been swallowed by the night and just as usual, you had a job to do. Although, given your sympathy, your client duties had been temporarily put on hold. Specifically to aid a young girl. Fresh blood, with a look of naivety. Easy prey.

At least that’s how the men would see it.

It had been her first night. Her acquaintance hadn’t been so friendly. Needless to say, she was reduced to a puddle of emotions. Crying and loathing in self pity. You were one to give her a pass. A simple understanding, as you’d seen yourself in her. There was a time too, in which you had to find your own footing. You just didn’t particularly have this line of work in mind.

Her red strands of hair were now wet streaks against her freckled face. Pursed lips, on the verge of quivering again. She settled her tears on the way to the church. You trudged through mud, stomping it off on the wooden porch and led her in through the front. The door heavily slammed behind you, which left her jumping with fright. You wrapped an arm around her frail form, soothing her fears as your boots clanked and creaked against rotting, old floor boards. Somehow, this place was holding together.

You knew well that Cas, the town’s only priest, would call it ‘the Grace of God.’

Whether you believed that yourself, was another story.

Candles were lit along each pew. The sound of rain was consistent against poorly sealed windows. Which would explain the tin buckets collecting water. Castiel appeared. He must have heard the door. His figure came into view from the other side of the vast, yet cramped, room. He was clutching a bible, his index and middle fingers tucked between the thin pages to keep his place. His black suit blended against the dark tone of the room, his white collar the only means for him to stand out.

He addressed you by name. Familiar and gentle. Despite your lack of religion, Cas brought an inexplicable aura of peace and calmness. You felt safe here and you knew that Merrien would too.

She sniffled and extended a hand to him. He immediately tore his blue orbs off of you and greeted her with a new found warmth. He smiled, tenderly. “Hello. You two seem to be comin’ from something troubling?” He looked between the two of you. His voice full of gravel.

You spoke for her, “She just needs somewhere safe to rest for the night. I thought here would be best.” You clarified the situation, preferring not to go into detail.

Castiel nodded, briefly pausing, but he was quick to regain himself. “Well, right this way.” He extended his arm for guidance. Merrien was reluctant, but she walked ahead of him and toward his study.

Before you could see yourself out, he was turning back and coming toward you. Your hands still clutching the skirt of your dress. You noticed his wandering gaze then, once you had faced him. Surely he noticed the tucked fabric, pinned to your hip and revealing a set of stockings, your bare skin visible, beneath your gown. It was certainly more erotic than he was used to.

The preacher cleared his throat. “You know I’m good for the help, but I really wish you wouldn’t subject yourself to this madness.” He mumbled. Now he sounded like a figure of authority. The treatment you had been desperate to escape from. The prison your father had created.

You averted your gaze, all but scoffing. “I’m serious. You take in a new victim n’ some dirt bag roughs her up.”

“We are not victims!” You hissed, disliking in how he seemed to put the blame on you. As if you led the poor girl into a trap.

“No, but you’ve chosen a life that invites evil. Ever since those Winchester’s rode off you’ve-“ You cut him off. “I’m not here to be guilted to kneel at your altar and confess my sins.” Your tone was biting. “Goodnight, Father.” You turned sharp on your heels and hurriedly made your exit.

…

The man did his best to tend to your wound, ensuring it wouldn’t become infected. You were thankful for his attentiveness. If you were honest, this was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

He used a clean cloth, his bandana rather, to wrap your hand again and secured it with a side knot. After his doctoring, you’d found yourself migrated to the hard ground, using all the blankets he possessed to keep warm. You used his arm for a pillow, while he opted for his jacket, bunched up and rolled to support him.

Somewhere in between the burning heat of flames, your skin, and your feelings—an overwhelming urge washed over you. His leg tucked between your own, half on his side as he hovered above you. His mouth eagerly tasted you in a bruising kiss. It took all the breath from your lungs, for a moment you forgot to breathe entirely. A heavy exhale blew from your nostrils, while your fingers tangled into his chestnut strands. He barely had to touch the sleeve of your dress, before it was hanging off your shoulder. Revealing more of your lithe, warm skin. He kissed you there. His wet lips leaving a trail. First your collar bone. Next, your throat. A soft sigh emits from you and he’s pleased to hear it.

There’s a moment you look at each other. Chests heaving with anticipation. And it’s then that you taste the sweetness of your self autonomy. The choice to be his. The possibility to make a life outside of judgement and fear. Dean’s known this kind of emancipation since his father’s death, even before then. Constantly running. Town to town. Despite the erratic uncertainty, you were envious. And yet, somehow, this man was willing to risk all of it to give you a piece of liberation.

Youthful lust grows heavy. You’re fumbling with his belt, as his hands roughly hike your dress up your legs. You’ve never wanted him more and you’re surprised by your sudden desire, especially after the day’s events.

Then again, it seemed unlikely there’d ever be a moment when you wouldn’t want Him.

…

The anger in the pit of your stomach was bubbling to the surface, rising in your throat, the entire walk back to the brothel. You didn’t even bother to use your shawl, the garment hanging low below your waist and loosely holding at your arms.

You weren’t sure if hearing his name or the insinuation of bad intent had triggered you. Either way, you had your fill for the evening.

Despite your foul mood, the atmosphere remained the same. Music filtered through the bar and up the stairs. Every round table was occupied. The bartender satisfied his customers from a range of stacked liquor, on shelves that nearly looked ready to cave. The room was packed, giving no one a choice but to sweat. Once you entered, their eyes were roaming. A rowdy crowd of cowboys, the town sheriff and his men, along with a few townsfolk. They were all well-known faces. Every last one, a strong reminder of how much you wished to leave.

You climbed the staircase, with limited space from clients nearly over the railing with their public affection. The smell of liquor and cigars lingered, a hard smell to filter. Especially out of your clothes. It was something you’d grown accustomed to.

Your door was left ajar. Pushing it wide open, you disregarded the man inside. You sat behind your vanity and proceeded to pull the pins from your hair, unleashing your mess of hair. Arthur rose from your bed, creaking in its wake. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand.

“I’m not in the mood.” You informed him. You hadn't even bothered to look at him.

He was a routine customer, though you wished he wouldn’t come at all.

Your hands were busy rolling your stockings down, when sat his sweating bottle onto your table. He leaned behind your chair, his fist gathering your hair and forcing you upright. Your reflection met his own in the rounded mirror. Your jaw tightened. It was all just a delightful game for him.

“What do I pay ya for, sweetheart?” He gruffed against your ear. His beard scratching your skin.

You grimaced at his hot breath.

“You’ll do well to know your place.”

“And you’ll do well to call it a night.” You turned toward him. If it hadn’t been your father, you weren’t sure you’d have the confidence to tell off a man half your size. His grip painfully pulled at your scalp. Your nose brushed his, and you weren��t quite sure how his mood would shift. His lips smashed against yours. Sloppy and warm.

Eventually, he released you. Not without force, as your hands gripped the front of your vanity to steady yourself. The small legs skidding against the floor. You exhaled, mainly due to your irritation, as his boots heavily shuffled toward the door. Eventually, his movements were drowned out by the people beyond your room and you rose quickly to slam and latch the door shut. Your hands laid flat against the surface of the wood, head hung low.

There was the unmistakable sensation of emotions welling in your chest. Brutal memories flooding back to torture you and you refused to drown. Not again.

Not after five long years of letting him go.

You’d keep swimming, like always. Just as you had, right after your mother’s sudden death. An event that transformed your father into an unrecognizable monster. Possessed by the all consuming tainted liquid. It replaced his wife, soon it even replaced his own daughter.

Shaky fingers worked on undressing yourself. Layer by layer, lace by lace to undo your corset. The four walls that barricaded you from the outside, were a modest display of your dwelling. A wooden nightstand, lopsided by a shortened leg. On top rested a single candle and your father’s old pocket watch. Your vanity was turned diagonal against the corner and facing toward your bed, a wash basin directly beside that. A trunk and dresser to fit most of the things you owned combined.

There was a part of you that was deemed to feel ashamed of your circumstances. A string of poor choices to lead you here. One starting with your relationship to Dean Winchester.

You’d begin to wonder if he was even alive. Maybe all those bad deeds had caught up with him. ‘May God rest his soul,’ Castiel had always put it, when expressing his worry about the outlaw brothers. Sam, specifically, was always viewed as less threatening than his older sibling. Your truth, on the other hand, was something far different than what the town had depicted.

Their faces covered every post and front door through town. It amused you to think that the posters held any sort of value, in terms of gaining information. It was unlikely they’d show their faces again. So many years had passed, but you were aware that the sheriff had a grudge to hold. You were guilty of the same effect—the inability to move on. The inexhaustible attempts of letting time heal those open wounds. Regardless, Dean was a kind of love that burned until it scarred. And even if by some miracle he came striding back into town, dapper as ever and sweeping you off your feet. It was far too late.

If you hadn’t been able to forgive him after all these years, it was unlikely that day of reckoning would come.

…

The brim of his hat covered his eyes, resting against the bridge of his nose. His brother was concentrated, a journal against his thigh, while he scribbled down his thoughts. The scratching of his pencil was disturbing Dean, propped against the smooth edge of a rock.

“For the love of God Sam, get some rest.” He gruffed, throwing his hat down into the dirt.

“I’m almost done.” He muttered, while proceeding to write out the date at the bottom of the page. Finally, he shut the book and wound the straps around the cover to keep it closed. He stood, tucking the prized possession into his satchel. His boots shuffled against the ground. Dean, opened an eye.

He grunted, proceeded to sit up right. “Gimme that.” He motioned toward the silver flask. Sam bent down to grab the container, before handing it off to his brother.

“What’s going on?” He asked, before chugging down the whiskey. Each gulp burning more than the last. He swallowed the alcohol with ease.

Sam sat back on the blanket, the flames dancing in his eyes. A familiar expression resting on his features. Revealing to Dean that he was anxious.

“I know that look. What is it, Sammy?” He prodded again.

Sam exhaled, “I just… I don't think this is a good idea.” He disclosed.

“What? Goin’ home?” Dean responded, questioning him as if it was obviously their right to do so.

Sam shook his head, glancing out over the stretch of dry land. His eyes slowly following back to Dean.

“You know what I mean.”

“Clear Tusk is our home. We have every right to be there, just as much as those sons of bitches. It ain’t right Sam… you know it.” He ranted, clearly upset by his brother’s reluctance.

Sam accepted defeat on the matter. Despite being worried they wouldn’t have the welcoming Dean anticipated. Not to mention, the possibility of violence or even arrest. Those outcomes never phased his brother, not when he had his heart set on something.

Not that the two men had known any different. Their mother died, as a result of their father’s recklessness. Hellbent on revenge, he raised his children to be just as callous. This, in return, wasn’t enough to stop Sam or Dean from trying to escape. In fact, once Dean had met you, there was hope in the idea that he would, for once, be truly happy. Sam had never seen him so infatuated. Unfortunately, a whirlwind romance like theirs couldn’t stand on two feet. Her father refused the relationship from day one, because of their family’s reputation. Secrecy ensued, as did their demise.

Dean and you had calculated a plan to leave. To run away. The two of you would start over in another town, another place where your faces were unrecognizable.

Of course, after realizing what had transpired, your father caused a ruckus in town. The sheriff rounded his men and where you chose to rest hadn’t been quite far enough.

Aurthur, Kalvin, and Henry had ripped you from Dean in every sense of the word. The image branded into his mind, painfully. Your screams, all for him, forever haunting. The other two had subdued him with a few blows. Intent on killing him. He regretted never turning back for you. Like a coward, he ran to meet his brother.

In those long few days, you actually waited. Something Dean wasn’t aware of. Starving and locked in your room, you laid beneath your window. Listening for his arrival, his return to rescue you. Gradually, agonizingly, the days turned into weeks, turned into months.

Eventually, Dean settled his mind and folded his arms over his chest, before laying back. “Go to sleep…” He muttered to his brother.

By morning… the Winchester’s would be back.

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