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apocalypseornaw · 1 year ago

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Stretch it Out

Dean Winchester x Reader

When you need help stretching it takes an interesting turn

Warnings: Cursing, NSFW things

One of the many empty rooms in the bunker had been turned into an exercise area of sorts. It'd started off as Sam's brain child for mornings he couldn't go for a run, he'd found a cheap enough treadmill and tossed it in the room. Next came the weight bench, the punching bags and eventually the mats that were used for a mixture from sparring to yoga. It had gotten turned into a pretty decent home gym.

You were alone in the room, Dean had gone on a store run and Sam was in the shower. After the last hunt you'd gotten slammed around pretty good, Cas had healed what he could but turns out even angel mojo couldn't help tight hips. You were trying your best to get them to pop because that was what you desperately needed.

You'd gotten into boxing with Donna and knew what stretches would help, the problem was you needed assistance with it and didn't want to have to drive to Sioux Falls just to get it. You could ask Sam for help but given the position the stretches would put you in, you felt weird asking your best friend to do so and the thought of asking Dean embarrassed you bad enough you'd rather go a few rounds with a rugaru then attempt it.

You finally gave up about the time you heard Dean's voice echo down the hall "Honey I'm home" you laughed as you slipped your feet into the slides you wore around the bunker and headed for the kitchen where he was unloading groceries "I'm assuming that honey I'm home was for me or else things are really weird between you and Sam"

He stopped mid putting milk in the fridge "Sweetheart" the tone of his voice made you crack up "I'm kidding Dean. I'm kidding" he put the milk in the fridge then turned to face you, eyeing your clothes "What's with the active wear?" You looked down at yourself because you were just wearing high-waisted leggings and an old t-shirt you'd cropped off a bit because it'd been way too long to use any of the weights or punching bag while wearing.

"I was stretching out. My hips still aren't feeling quite up to par" he nodded slowly "Did you get them popped or whatever you said they needed?" You shook your head "I can't get into the positions I need to by myself" "Sam couldn't help?" He asked as you grabbed a bag and started putting its contents away.

You shook your head but didn't further elaborate. The two of you had everything put away within a few minutes. You grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and started to walk out the kitchen when Dean stopped you "Hey, let me throw on some sweats and I'll help you stretch"

You knew your eyes widened at that because he chuckled "Oh don't think I can help with stuff like that? I'm only good for the punchy stuff?" You shook your head "No Dean it's not that.." he cut you off "Good. Meet me in the gym in five" "Ok" you finally replied knowing arguing was no use.

---------

About the time Dean walked out the kitchen Sam walked in with his hair still wet from the shower "I should throw this damn water at you for not being five minutes faster" Sam was not ignorant to your feelings for his older brother but had guarded your secret for a while. He grinned slightly "And why is that?"

You groaned "Dean's gonna help me stretch out my hips" in that moment Sam very much looked like he may just chew his bottom lip off in an attempt to not laugh in your face at your dismay. "Oh go ahead!" You finally said and he nearly doubled over "Does he know the positioning of those stretches?" You shook your head and that only made him laugh harder.

He finally regained his composure enough to check his watch "I'm gonna go into town to the farmers market. I'll get some of those apples you like and I'll be gone for a couple hours" "Why?" You questioned but he just patted your shoulder on the way by.

"SAMUEL?" You hollered behind him but only heard his laughter in return. Dean walked up behind you and nearly made you scream when he said "What was that about?" You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled slightly "He's going to the farmers market and refused to get me apples" "You know he will" he replied then tapped your hip "C'mon"

You stood across from Dean nervously chewing on your bottom lip. You both had warmed up enough already so you had no excuse but christ you were freaking out internally. "Ok sweetheart, where do we start?" He asked with a smile that caused your heart to jump "Um Ok. I'm gonna lay down on the mat and I need you to stand over me and I'll bend one knee then fold it over the hip on my opposite side I just need you to apply enough counter pressure"

He raised one eyebrow but nodded nonetheless "Well get into position and I'll do my job" you laid down flat on your back and swallowed hard looking up at him before bending your knee on the left side and tucking it over your right hip. He smirked slightly then leaned over "Just apply pressure until i say stop. I can handle it" he nodded "Oh I know"

---------

You tried that stretch on both hips hoping it would work because it was the position that gave the most room between you and Dean even if just from that position alone you were having to stare at the roof to not be staring into those green eyes that made you forget any and all thoughts. You finally rolled up into a seated position, Dean was sitting across from you on his knees "What now?"

You could feel your cheeks threaten to warm as you damn near stuttered "H-How much do you want to help me?" He watched you for a moment "I want to make sure you're not hurting. Now what do I need to do?" You nodded slowly "Im gonna lay back, I need you to kneel between my legs and put one of my legs on your shoulder then just push it down towards my shoulder applying even pressure until either it loosens up or I say stop"

He motioned towards the mat "Let's do it" good lord could he have picked a worse way to say it? You laid down and when he moved closer you felt your face begin to warm so you bit down on the inside of your cheek as a distraction In hopes it would get get your mind off the position at hand.

However nothing on earth could have distracted from from him gripping your hips firmly to pull you down the mat closer to him, spreading your legs slightly. A small gasp escaped you when your hips bumped into his then he turned just enough to gently grab your left leg and lift it onto his shoulder "Like this sweetheart?"

You knew your voice wouldn't work at the moment so you just nodded.

---------

There was a mantra going through Dean's head which consisted of three words....don't get hard. Damn why hadn't he just stayed in his jeans? That would've offered a thicker layer between your bodies but he hadn't realized how close the stretching required you to be besides the denim probably would've been uncomfortable to you considering you were just wearing thin leggings.

The first stretch hadn't been that bad but he noticed how you wouldn't meet his eyes while he was standing over you. Sam's words from a few days before when he'd been certain you were flirting with the bartender at some backwoods dive the three of you had stopped in ran through his head "Believe me Dean, she could give a damn less about that guy"

Then when you stuttered asking him to do this current position? Maybe he did have a chance. He had to stop a smirk from slipping onto his face when you gasped lightly from him pulling you closer and pulling your leg up on his shoulder. Not like he hadn't imagined you like this a thousand times before....of course then you weren't dressed or in the gym or just stretching.

When you finally looked up to meet his eyes he smiled "like this sweetheart?" And noticed just how wide your eyes were when you nodded.

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Your knee was nearly touching your shoulder when you felt the release in your hip and a moan that completely mortified you escaped your lips at the feeling. Dean froze dead in his tracks, your leg still on his shoulder and cut his eyes at you with one eyebrow raised "What was that?"

You covered your face with your hands "I am so sorry Dean. That just felt so damn good" he gently lowered your left leg and you expected him to walk out the room due to the awkwardness but instead he moved to the right side and lifted your leg onto his shoulder "Look at me and I'll see if i can get you to moan again from this side" he teased.

You slowly lowered your hands and he winked at you "Attagirl. We're both adults here no shame in something feeling good besides maybe it boosts my ego knowing you moaned like that and I was technically the cause of it...I mean I've heard some of your excuses for dates in the past..."

"Shut up Dean!" You laughed but he started to push your leg towards your shoulder and damn him he'd been paying attention to the last leg and knew just what angle to use because you quickly felt the release in that side and the fucking moan you let slip out was borderline pornagraphic.

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He spoke your name gently and you looked up at him. He was watching you carefully "You good?" You smiled "I'm great" you shifted your hips as much as you could considering one of them was still on his shoulder but froze when you felt something against your inner thigh "Um Dean?"

"Huh?" He asked then must have realized his body had reacted. "Oh fuck darling. I am so damn sorry" he put your leg down quickly and went to stand up but you grabbed his hand "Wait" he wouldn't meet your eyes "I'm sorry sweetheart. It's just you're a beautiful woman, the position we were in...." he groaned lightly before adding "and the noises you were making under me"

"Dean" you tried again and when he finally met your eyes you reached for his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss.

The kiss took Dean off guard. He'd expected you to be pissed at him, hell possibly swing but the shock quickly wore off as he shifted around to push your back down against the mat. You hooked one of your legs around his waist pulling him down with you. He groaned into the kiss when you rolled your hips up to meet his.

He broke away from the kiss to look at you. You were laying under him, eyes wide and pupils blown. Your chest was heaving just slightly and a smile was playing at your lips "Sweetheart what are we doing here?" You raised an eyebrow and glanced down at where your bodies were pressed against each other, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating you "I thought it was kind of clear Dean"

---------

He laughed lightly then leaned down again catching your lips with his once more. He felt your hands slip under his shirt, an unspoken request for more access to him. He pulled back just enough to slip the shirt over his head and throw it somewhere behind him. He smiled when he saw your hands go towards the hem of your shirt and covered them with his own. He glanced up at you for permission and you nodded so he slipped the shirt over your head and tossed it leaving you in just your leggings and sports bra.

"Come here" you whispered pulling him back down to you. He moved from your lips down to your neck biting and sucking the skin, enjoying what sounds he could pull from you. When he kissed down your chest he felt your breathing speed up as he nipped at your breast through the cloth still covering it. "Fuck Dean" you moaned and he could've came then and there from hearing his name come out of you like that. "Let me enjoy this" he teased before pulling the bra off of you.

--------

The moment your chest was completely bared to him Dean leaned down flicking one of your nipples into his mouth with his tongue while his hand worked the other. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the pleasure you were feeling when he'd barely touched you was dizzying.

He moved from your chest, kissing down your stomach and stopping just shy of the top of your leggings. He glanced up at you through his long lashes and you felt a rush of heat go straight to your core "Can I?" You nodded, lifting your hips to help him get the leggings off.

"Damn baby you're already soaked" he cooed slipping one finger inside of you causing a light gasp to slip free of your lips. He smiled wickedly then added another finger, basking in the way you moaned his name "I wanna see what you look like when you come" he spoke curling his fingers inside of you until he found that spot that made your eyes roll back. When your back arched up off the mat he chuckled "There it is"

He crashed his lips against yours in a rough kiss while he worked you over that edge, feeling you tighten around his fingers. You could feel the tension building in your lower stomach and barely got out the words "Dean I'm gonna.." before it snapped pushing you over that edge and causing your vision to go soft around the edges.

"Soo damn sexy" he whispered moving back down your body. You'd barely had any time to recover before his head was moving between your legs, you felt the first tentative lick and moaned his name loudly which spurred his actions one.

The way his mouth felt on your body had every damn nerve ending on fire. You could feel that tension building again already. You'd never come this close together but the moment his lips locked around your clit sucking roughly you were pushed over that edge yet again. He stayed working you over until you pushed at his shoulders weakly "Too much. Too much"

-----------

He rocked back on his heels, wiping a thumb across his lower lip before sucking on it "Fuck you taste as good as you look" you smiled lazily "Normally I'd love to return the favor and I promise to next time but please will you take off your pants and fuck me?"

"Next time huh?" He asked as he pushed his pants down his hips along with his boxers then kicked them off. You'd always figured Dean was well endowed. Awkward moments with hotel showers had happened but damn he was big and thick. You licked your lips and he grinned running a hand across his cock "Like what ya see sweetheart?"

You rolled your eyes "Would like it better if it was inside me" He smirked "Well who am I to keep a lady waiting" he gripped your hips, snatching you closer to him much the way he had earlier. You could feel the head of his cock teasing your opening and could feel yourself clenching around air in anticipation "Are you sure?" He asked and you nearly whined in frustration "Please?"

He nodded as he pushed into you causing a moan to be pulled from you both once he was fully sheathed he held still to let you adjust to him. He caught your lips in a passionate kiss, tongue flicking against yours allowing you to taste yourself on him. Once the pain of the stretch faded to pressure you moved your hips against his to let him know he could move.

He started to roll his hips into yours causing your back to arch up off the mat with every movement "Fuck Dean, you feel so fucking good" you praised and that seemed to spur his movements. He changed his angle just slightly and when the head of his cock rubbed across that certain spot you could vaguely register your nails digging into his shoulders "Right there baby, please don't stop"

"Wasn't planning on it" he teased. It felt amazing but you knew you both needed a little more "You can fuck me harder Dean. I won't break" you moaned and he leaned his forehead over in the crook of your neck as his thrusts got somehow even deeper and harder. You could feel that tension building again and knew he could feel you clenching harder around him "Go ahead sweetheart. Come for me" He spoke into your skin, one hand slipping between you to rub tight circles onto your clit. You came for the third time with a scream of his name on your lips.

Once you came down from the high slightly you could feel his thrusts begin to falter. You turned your attention to him fully, kissing across his jaw and down his neck as you said "Let me feel you come Dean, please. Fill me up baby" his jaw clenched tightly at your words as his thrusts sped up chasing his own release.

He buried himself inside you with one final thrust and the feeling of him coming inside of you managed to push you over that edge for the fourth time.

He collapsed on top of you, supporting most of his body weight on your lower half so you could breath. "God damn sweetheart. I'm so fucking glad Sam didn't help you stretch" You popped his shoulder "Don't be an ass Dean"

After a moment of you both simply catching your breath he leaned up to be able to look at your face "On a serious note I don't want this to be a one time thing and not just this...I um want us to try to this I mean if you want" you laughed lightly causing him to groan considering he was still inside of you "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend after nearly fucking me stupid in the bunkers home gym?"

He nodded "Yeah?" You pulled him into a kiss before saying "On the condition that you help me make it to the shower before Sam gets back because my legs have no feeling in them after coming that much" you could see the moment the smug smirk began to pull at his face "Oh really?" You rolled your eyes and started to say something back but he chose then to pull out of you which caused another gasp to leave you.

"I can manage to help my girl shower" he added with a wink.

"How's your hips feel?" Dean asked after you both had showered and you were laying in his bed with his arms around you. You laughed "They feel absolutely amazing"

He leaned down to kiss you but right before your lips touched you heard Sam holler "IN THE GYM? REALLY. YOU TWO ARE ANIMALS!"

Dean smirked at you "Any complaints?" "None at all" you replied pulling him into you for the kiss.

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester smut

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lght-roastcoffee · 2 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆ Never ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: "I'm not leaving you."┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 4

pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

wordcount: 1.1K

warnings: mentions of blood, spn-level violence, established relationship

author's note: First, I imagined season 4 Sam after it's revealed he's been drinking demon blood for this. Second, this is a day late. Unfortunately, I got a little sick yesterday and every time I sat down to work on this, I got a little dizzy. But it's out now! I'll just finish the challenge a day later than I had planned, but I am still planning on doing all 10 prompts I've set for myself.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

Sam’s screams penetrate the walls of Bobby’s house, setting everyone on edge. Tears gather in my eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time since Dean closed the bunker door behind him. He and Bobby sit up stairs, deciding on their next move while I sit in the basement on a worn out dining chair.

After everything that happened with Castiel and Jimmy Novak, no one expected a darker secret to linger. But when I turned from the demon who had vomited its black smoke from its vessel to see Sam-my Sam-with blood smeared across his mouth, everything around me vanished. The look in his eyes after everything calmed down and Sam met my eyes was haunting. The anger residing in his hazel eyes was a stark difference to the gentleness I usually saw, and it scared me.

Dean snuck away as Sam and I cleaned up the mess and the bodies, making sure all evidence had been scrubbed clean from the scene. The silence between us is unusual. Usually, we’d laugh and joke, despite the morbid circumstances. But after the look in his eyes, I don’t know what to think anymore.

I knew that after Dean’s death, things weren’t quite the same. Sam took off, leaving me at Bobby’s, and never answered my calls. I knew he was still hunting, and doing a great job, from what I heard. So I stayed with Bobby as I helped him around the junkyard and assisted with some hunts now and then. So when Dean came stumbling across the threshold, very much alive, all I could think about was Sam and if he did something to bring him back.

Dean and Bobby went off to find him while I stayed back, not quite ready to face him after he up and left. And after Dean confronted the angel who raised him from Hell and we learned of the impending apocalypse, I could tell Sam wasn’t the same man anymore. But who would be, after his brother, the person who raised him, died gruesomely right in front of him?

So I kept myself occupied, helping Bobby in his research on the seals and trying not to get too close to Sam. But he wormed his way back in, apologizing for leaving like he did and for holding back the truth of his escapades during that time. He promised he wouldn’t use his abilities anymore and that was that.

Sam started trying to get back in my good graces. He started by arriving with coffee any time he saw me, then I’d notice new books stacked on the nightstand of my room in Bobby’s house, until he started inviting me out on more and more hunts with Dean, and I’d join. It all came to a head after a close call with a werewolf we were tracking and I laid in his arms, bleeding out and confessing, before Cas showed up and healed me, thanks to Dean’s prayers. We were good again, but I could tell that something was still eating at him. Well, I guess I know why now.

“You okay, kid?”

I look up, feeling the tears falling freely against my cheeks as Dean stops in front of me. He sets a glass of water next to me on a rickety table.

“Is this really necessary?” I managed to say. “Does he really need to be locked up like some- some animal?”

Over the course of the days we’ve kept Sam locked up, my anger has slowly been gathering. Whether it’s directed towards me, for not doing more to help the man screaming and pleading for help, or towards Dean and Bobby who were so prepared with trapping Sam and leading me away before I could ruin anything. But they’ve kept them in there, listening to his unnatural torture and continuing on like it’s nothing, no food or water because there’s a high chance he’ll get out is we open the door. This “detox” is destroying Sam and it seems I’m the only one who can see it.

Dean sighs, pats me on the shoulder, and makes his way back upstairs. I sit there, the sounds of Sam’s cries lulling me into a restless sleep after not doing so for days. I only wake to the sound of rushed and heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. I see Bobby, then Dean, their faces a mix of worry and horror as they rush to the bunker door. That’s when I recognize the deafening silence.

I rush over with them, Dean throwing the heavy iron door open and I see Sam on the ground seizing. I rush to his side, going to kneel down to keep him stable. Before I could do so, however, his body rose into the air and started slamming against the iron walls. I realize I’m screaming as Dean and Bobby push past me to get to Sam and restrain him to the cot. After everything settled down, Dean tried to drag me out of the room, but after landing a hard punch to his face and a knee to his groin, they gave me some space. Dean sat outside the door, listening for any trouble after getting some ice.

I sat at Sam’s side, combing my fingers through his hair and humming softly. After a while, he groans, trying to reach up with his hand, but the handcuffs stop him. I sigh, tears forming once again at the torture the man I love is going through. He tries again and jerks awake frantically scanning his surroundings.

“Hey, Hey!” I push against his chest, hoping to calm him down even just a little bit.

“Y/N?” Sam relaxes slightly, confusion swimming across his features. “What happened?”

“You gave us a scare,” I answer, reaching up to smooth his bangs out of his face. “You started flying across the room. Bobby and Dean saw no choice but to restrain you.”

He lays his head back, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head before cupping his face, hazel eyes opening to stare back at me in anguish, giving him a slight smile in return. “Hey, I- I understand, Sam. Just don’t do that again, okay?”

“I- I don’t know if I can stop myself.” Tears form at his lash line, threatening to spill over. “I don’t know if I can stop myself from being the monster everyone thinks I am.”

“We’ll figure something out,” I say softly. “Just like we always do, right?”

The look he gives me, all watery and intense, makes me realize he’s terrified of my reaction.

“You won’t leave me?” He whispers, voice shaking. I lean over him, face hovering over him.

“I’m not leaving you,” I whisper. “Not ever.”

I press a soft kiss to his lips, tasting the salt from our joined tears. I pull away before resting my forehead against his.

“Never.”

#tuna tober 2024 #tuna tober prompt challenge 2024 #thecoffeeshop #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader

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shallowseeker · 11 months ago

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In 12x16, Sam is a bull in a China shop when it comes to mentoring/parenting/caretaking

Safety vs autonomy: the core Sam dilemma

He obviously cares for Claire, but boy does he ever struggle to connect with her. He tries to do the checklist of things you do for people you care about: he asks about her wellbeing, then insists she has a hot meal! It's cute!

But...

When Sam immediately starts pressuring Claire to call Jody, he's forgetting that he's probably overstepping. He's not seen her in a while, after all! He's being classic-Sam-Winchester-pushy.

He doesn't butter her up or give them time to warm up to each other, just starts giving her the stink eye right out of the gate. In short, Sam has no finesse.

Just look at that stink eye: =____=

///

Look at Sam in the next scene, when he's finally one-on-one with Claire.

He's still pushing.

Even when he asks about if things are good, he's passive-aggressive about it. (This is very different than the straightforward approach that Cas and Dean take with Claire, as well as what we see from Jody.)

SAM: So (overdramatic sigh, a sigh full to the brim with assumptions) really? Things are good?

The way he says really. It's sooooo annoying, God bless you, Sammy.

Look. At. His. Face.

No wonder she called him an old skeezer right after this.

///

Ahem. Anyway. Once of Sam's core values is independence, and in the past when he's interacted with Claire, he's embodied that, teaching her to hack credit cards, and nagging her a little bit about using hunting to run away.

Here, he's flipping quite suddenly to true parent!mode, and Claire is not reacting well at all to his sudden change OR his style.

The pushy!Sam mode isn't working for Claire, the same way the overcaring faux!therapist mode won't work for Jack in Tombstone.

///

Claire is kidding around with him because she's uncomfortable. She's trying to lighten the mood.

Funnily enough, I think Sam's actually losing patience/offended here!

When it comes to have patience/affinity for younger people, I don't think it comes naturally to him. That's why he reads the self-help books and books like The Drama of the Gifted Child.

It's why it often sounds so careful, so practiced, which sets him up for disaster when his very real natural impatience comes out.

///

In the moment, she needs validation. It's like the song she'll listen to: "I'll never be good enough, you make me wanna die." She needs to feel respected by Sam. She doesn't feel like Sam's frank with her, and she wants to prove herself so he'll respect her.

Then, Sam, poor Sam. Comes in with this sledgehammer:

See, for one of the first times ever, Sam prioritized SAFETY over AUTONOMY.

When Claire didn't tell him the truth right away, he went behind her back and called Jody to find out how exactly what Claire was lying about...

BUT he didn't "tell." He tried to have the best of both worlds.

Sam still wants to be Claire's friend. The guy in her corner. (Cas already reckoned with this way back in season 10. That was his whole conversation with the therapist: "She doesn't need a friend." etc etc. Dean naturally sets boundaries, sometimes his boundaries are too rigid, sure, but it comes more naturally all the same.)

///

Claire then complains about being at the proverbial "kids' table," whenever they hunt, that Claire stays in the car while Jody does everything. (Sam felt this way about John and Dean! And as far as the kids' table goes, he still struggles with that feeling.)

And boy do I love this moment:

Claire's insecurities are manifesting the same way past Sam's did: she's putting words in other people's mouths. Her own insecurities are being shunted and reflected onto other people! Sam does this so, so, so often with Dean, especially in the vintage seasons. (It's part of growing up.)

But anyway back to Sam versus safety!

And Claire explodes, kindly tells him to fuck off. There is no trust here; she and Sam do not have an established parent-child relationship, so his insistence for her to tell the truth...CHAFES.

And then BOOOM. And that's why this episode will always be beautiful to me.

Sam never thought he'd be on the other side of this issue, prioritizing a younger family member's safety over their independence and getting frustrated when they don't see things his way.

She's so hurt that she runs away. And he doesn't follow her.

Clearly, Sam hates this feeling with Claire. It paralyzes him so much that they separate and she gets hurt. Bitten. DOOMED. On his watch. All his care and worrying weren't enough. He wound up pushing her away, upsetting her, and making her less safe in the end.

In later seasons, we can assume being a parent-parent chafes for him, causing him to reckon with his safety-versus-autonomy values in a fresh, uncomfortable way. He mostly flips back to a by-the-book, mentor-style parenting/caretaker relationship with AU hunters, Jack, etc.

But this moment with Claire is chef's kiss...and to me why Sam's arc doesn't feel done at the end of season 15. This struggle right here is the path for Sam finally understanding why his family often behaved as they did! If there ever were a sequel, I think this would have to be the through line. (Also, please give Sam a Sam-John-coded kid that will drive him crazy. Pretty, pretty please!)

///

Fun aside//

We see that Claire tames her emotionality with music, something Dean and Jack do as well.

///

#sam stuff #spn 12x16 #season 12 my beloved #sam & claire #THE sam fail episode of all time

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padfootscoldleathers · 1 month ago

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i'll leave (a light on) ch.5

ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4, ch.5

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, pleeeease, Mary! Please! Come on!"

Marlene's on her knees on the stage floor at soundcheck. The band has just finished, but Mary hasn't gone on yet and Marls is now clutching her legs begging, begging, BEGGING to hear the song she and Sirius are going to perform tomorrow night.

"I already told you – you'll hear it on stage tomorrow night."

Marlene's body falls along Mary's legs which almost makes her fall over. "But that's so far away." She pouts up at her and has her hands on Mary's ankles now. Well, one ankle and a hunk of metal, but who really cares.

Mary smooths Marlene's hair over her head. "You'll survive."

"But what if I die? This is grand tier homophobia." She groans on her way down Mary’s legs to sprawl out on the stage floor.

"Okay," she whispers. "Hey, Cas! Littering ain't cool. Come get your kid– ACK!" Mary lands with a thump on the floor and glares death at a cackling Marlene who's squirming like a crab flipped on its back. When Mary moves to get to her feet Marls immediately lets loose a string of curses as she scrambles off the stage. She jumps off the side stage and scrapes her elbow.

"So aggressive. Save it for sex."

"I know where you sleep, McKinnon.”

"Good. It's a no-clothes zone, by the way." She shrugs, walking backwards and throws a piece of gum in her mouth. "Just a reminder." She stalks off backstage to Dorcas and Peter with a pop of her bubblegum.

When Mary turns to look out at the stands from the center stage she senses Sirius coming up behind her, even though she can't hear his footsteps. She knows why.

"What are you doing? I can see you in my side mirrors, stop creeping up on me."

Sirius walks up until they're side by side and squints incredulously at her. His eyebrows are as high as they can go and his eyelids are straining to stay close enough to call it a squint. "Your side mirrors?"

"I'm bilingual, okay? I forget words sometimes. You know what I mean. The corner of my eye. Stop squinting at me like that. You look like a newborn.

"One, rude. Two, your peripheral vision?"

"Tomato, tomato; they're synonyms in this context."

"Peripheral does not equate to a side mirror?"

"The way I see it, as long as you understand what I'm saying—it's a win. I have no respect for grammar."

"We'll circle back to this."

"No, we won't."

"It's because I'm a goldfish, isn't it?"

Mary swings her arm around his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her. "Yeah, your memory ain't all that hot, dushi. We still love you."

"Yeah, whatever. I love you too."

They stand there for a long time staring at the empty stadium. So this is the big leagues, she thinks. There was something about all this empty space and the way it amplified her insignificance; it was refreshing.

The rain made a mirror of the stage floor and showed her someone she hadn't seen in so long, but still recognised. The version of herself that was brave.

Mary could tell it was reaching for her. The vines were slowly winding their way up her legs, soon her torso, then her mind. It was undeniable in the way it lingers; the mourning to be someone you love. Again or for the very first time. It's a vague emotion until it's not and she could feel it. Her melancholia is growing, it never dies.

"Mavis."

"Yeah. Sorry." She pulled her eyes from the stage all across the stands and then to Sirius. All her excitement seeps from her pores and her breath comes out shaky with all of her nerves. And with it, a real smile, something that hadn't felt like it in so long.

"This is going to be the time of my life." Sirius matches her with all the enthusiasm he has left, which is, quite frankly, running on E, but he'll always have a smile for her.

“Scared?”

“Oh, terrified. In a good way. I feel like this marks the beginning of what’s going to be the happiest memories of my life.”

"Well, in that case, may it never end. July 25th, a day to remember." Sirius hands her a mic and turns to signal their audio guy.

The opening chords start playing and the tambourine might just be it. The beginning of something; something brave.

★

The car ride to lunch is an actual disaster. They end up stopping at a Krispy Kreme for donuts because it's taking so long to decide where to go. Mister Kingsley Shacklebolt in particular has, frankly, had it from here to hell with them. Marlene and Sirius are talking over each other and can’t even agree between Mexican and Thai. It all stops though, when Kingsley comes to a hard brake and sends the two of them crashing forward into the seats in front of them.

"We know you can drive better than this." Marlene says, rubbing her cheek.

"Should learn to strap in outside of the bedroom." He takes the keys out of the ignition then jumps out and goes around the front to the other side to open the door for Minnie. Then the door in the middle for Dorcas, Mary and Peter and shut it leaving Sirius and Marlene in the backseat with nothing but a box of Krispy Kreme with a lonely donut.

"Did he just…?"

"This is a thousand percent on brand for him, Sirius, don't be surprised."

She holds the door open for him as he shimmies out of the van with a donut and an empty box, before Marlene grabs and crushes it.

"Really?"

She shrugs and throws it in some random trashcan on the sidewalk. "What is this place anyway?"

"I couldn't care less as long as they have something sizzling on a plate."

"I just hope it's not Indian again."

"Why are you such a hater? Why do you have the palette of a baby, an allergy to anything exercise and the immune system of a sickly Victorian child? And yet have the audacity to look like a jock?"

Sirius opens the door and holds it open with his back to face Marlene. "Survival of the fittest, Sirius. Girls don't really care if you're a picky eater when you're this hot."

"Survival of the fittest?"

She puts a condescending hand on his shoulder, looks him up and down, shakes her head then sighs out a ‘you’re hopeless.’

Sirius pulls his head back in offense then starts fake coughing all over her when she walks past him. Marlene's skeleton and all vital organs abandon her as her fleshbag body runs through the restaurant with Sirius hot on her heels.

"Don't! I actually do have an immune system worse than a preemie NICU baby!"

Minnie solidifies out of thin air and grabs them both by the ears before a worker comes to kick them out.

"Sit."

Marls and Sirius drop into the booth next to each other rigid as a stoner next to a drug dog. Seriousness all but nonexistent by half a strawberry glazed donut dangling desperately from his mouth.

"Sirius, what are you guys doing?" Peter asks with a high eyebrow.

"Wuht?" He bites into the donut and catches the rest of it before it makes a sticky pink mess all over his jeans.

"Can't you two read a sign?"

That's when Marlene and Sirius turn over their shoulders – and butt each other's head on the way there – to look at the coloured signs basically lining the door frame. Eyes specifically snagging on a sign with a dog silhouette with a bright red block sign over it.

Sirius slowly turns his head back to Peter. Then he sees Minnie with a hard smile trying not to laugh. "Don't be racist." That's when the Italian waiter decides to show up at their table with the heaviest accent ever to ask if they have a problem. Peter and Mary squint at Dorcas utterly confused and she's supposed to translate for her two baby idiots.

"He means dogs are also a race." They blink at each other understanding but still gobsmacked at how stupid it sounds.

"Your sign is racist." Marls tells the waiter as he asks for their order. Sirius hisses and jumps to cover her mouth while they all stare between Marls n Marco wide-eyed. All except Dorcas of course. Who has had to live with this for years.

"Pardon?"

Cue heaven sent Dorcas Meadowes to the rescue. She and Minnie distract and order. Almost everyone moves around and under the booth to get to who they want to sit next to. Sirius ends up next to Mary which he later realises will be a big mistake because she asks if he wants to see a magic trick. Of course, he says yes. What else is there to say? It's Mary.

She pulls out a water bottle from her purse and pours it into an empty glass on the table. Then she takes her glass and pours the water into his. When she's done she moves her hand around the cup like it's going to make magic happen. Next thing he knows – he's drenched. Water splashed all over his face and soaked in the front of his shirt.

"Refreshing."

"That's going on the band's main insta account." Peter snickers already typing up a caption for their insta story.

Sirius' eyebrows shoot all the way up and he strains to keep his eyes near closed and blinks to make that funny face of 'what.’

"Excuse me?"

Then Sirius' phone pings and he's tagged in the story of his own personal Percy Jackson showdown that he embarassingly, predictably, lost. With '#stayhydrated' after his username.

Sirius, then and there, pulls up one of his many many pictures of Pete sleeping in various acrobat level positions. Specifically that time he fell asleep in what was basically a king cobra pose, his foot caught in the cushions of the couch in the studio. He retaliates as is his birthright. In his following of this existential purpose, naturally, he posts it. Drool and all. And he tags Petey. Obviously.

Peter's lips purse like a squished sponge but he's already come to terms with the fact that there are tons of pictures of him like this on the internet and this won't be the last.

"Well played."

"Thank you."

Lots of jokes, munch, munch, yum, yum, if you don't know how to make Italian food it's borderline tasteless, blah, blah, blah. They had fun.

They're leaving when Sirius, still munching on garlic bread, asks if they weren't supposed to catch a movie.

"Yeah, but are you grandmas still up for that?"

Marlene rubs her stomach like there's something in there. "I'm still nursing a food baby but if you want to, Minnie, we'll go with you."

"Well the movie's at 8. So," she checks her pocket watch, "an hour and a half. What do you want to do in the meantime?" Minnie fiddles with the keys through her thin fingers. Mary snatches them and dashes to the car.

"Thank you." She points the keys at Peter while holding the passenger door open for Minnie."Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Petey's eyes light up and he runs to grab the keys from Mary and slide over the hood. "I'm driving!"

Mary looks at the pregnant food fetus carriers with her eyebrow cocked like a shotgun. "Get in or get an uber." Car doors slam with just Minnie, Peter and Mary in the jeep. Sirius trails after the girls to the car like he has nowhere to be. That's until the car starts reversing to drive off. Then it does. Slowly. Tauntingly. The back window over the tailgate opens and the jeep starts to pick up a bit.

Dorcas and Marlene sprint and launch themselves over the backdoor. Sirius almost doesn’t make it past the corner but does end up grabbing the support at the back end and swinging himself inside. He drops his head on the bed of the wrangler with a thump. Marlene's monologuing, on insta live with Mary's phone. "That, my dear friends, is what 5 years of jockdom looks like. Former athlete in the flesh. Emphasis on ‘former.’" Sirius glares at her through panted breaths, grabs the phone and flips the camera.

"You act as if I didn't hear you wheezing like you were choking up a hairball after Dori had to throw you into the jeep." He flips the camera back to his face with a low blush, "That's what 4 years of vicarious jockdom looks like." Mary leans over the backseat and scrambles his hair as a distraction to grab the phone from his clawing fingers. "Where are we going anyway?" He leans his head against the tailgate.

"The arcade."

"What about the movie?"

"Same place." Mary and Pete say in unison. It happens a lot. Childhood best friends and all that. They're also highschool friends with Alice and… that roommate they live with, who Sirius has never seen somehow.

"Pardon?"

"You little freshwater fish. Welcome to America. The arcades are in the cinema." Peter cranks up the radio and it's ‘paradise calling’ by Birdy.

They get there maybe half an hour later so they definitely killed some time. Between getting tickets and trying to figure out the arcade, then realising that you can’t just use money. You need a buy a card for the arcade and put money on it. When did everything get so complicated? They play, stand in line for popcorn and then drag Sirius and Marlene away from Dance Dance Evolution so they don't all miss the movie. There was never a dull moment.

The commercials finish rolling and then the movie kicks on. It feels really creepy at first with just a couple girls playing with dolls.

The movie ends and the lot of them are walking hand in hand out the cinema. Tears streaming down their faces and red noses. Dorcas is the first one to say anything since the credits rolled. She tilts her head almost totally confused like she almost can’t remember what happened only that she’s crying.

"What the fuck?"

i feel like the movie was pretty obvious and i know they would all cry. marlene specifically. last update for the next three weeks cause exams and my life is not my own, alas BUT next chapter IS the wolfstar finally meet so yay

@moonyswarmsweaters @sspadfoot @thingthatoncewastruee @probs-reading @cheekyboybeth

@starving-marauder-lover @yourlocalbadgerscales @taleofapart-timepoet @mirrs-ball @tea-blankets-andstars

@where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx @percabeth-trash

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @jamespotterbbg @drunktayloratthevmas @labyrinthhofmymind

@s0ggyguts @nyx-taylors-version @will-vs-the-homo-sapiens-adgenda @siriusly-insane

#marauders fic #dead gay wizards #marauders era #dorlene #i'll leave (a light on)#peter pettigrew #mary macdonald #sirius & mary #peter & sirius #mary & peter

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

If You Want It To Be - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s Part 2! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut central, tiny bit of angst, fluff and feels. ❤️💚

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Before you start on the Christmas cookies, you pull Castiel aside.

“Here’s the mission,” you tell the angel. “I know the guys don’t do Christmas all that often, so I want to surprise them with a nice dinner tomorrow. Think you can get this list of stuff for me? I think my addled brain forgot we needed real food too.”

Castiel looks over the scrap of notebook paper you give him with a critical eye.

“Uh, yes. This seems straightforward enough…what about pie?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “What about pie?”

“Dean likes pie.”

“I understand, but Christmas is for cookies. Not pies.”

“I think Dean would beg to differ,” Cas points out.

“Fine, get the man his pie,” you relent with a sigh. “Get pecan. He likes pecan, and that’s still somewhat Christmasy.”

“He likes apple better,” Cas mutters, but he still takes up your list and heads out to do your bidding.

Now with most of the bunker, namely the kitchen, all to yourself, you put on some festive music on your phone before you start to lay out all your ingredients on the counter.

Not many people know about your hobby, but you think you’ve seen enough baking shows to be proficient with some flour and egg.

You decide to begin with good old-fashioned sugar cookies that you’ll try your best to decorate later. But first, you start measuring out ingredients.

You sing along with Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby,” not knowing that you have an audience.

Dean spots you on his way back in from the garage. He was aiming to grab a drink of water from the fridge. He finds you instead, bopping around the kitchen. He hears you humming breathily to the music, watches you swaying your hips to her sultry notes. And he smirks.

He steps up behind you and leans in close to your ear to ask, “What’cha making?”

You jump with a loud yelp, flinging up flour with your wooden spoon. Hearing Dean’s laughter, you whip around and give him a playful glare before swatting at him with the spoon.

“Hey!” he protests when you mark his shirt (more than once) with flour. You smirk and continue your task of mixing the dough.

Serves you right, troublemaker, you think. He comes up behind you to inspect your work.

“Cake?” he asks.

“Cookies, remember?” you tell him. “Want to help me?”

“You seem to be doing just fine.” He raises a brow as you take chunks of dough, roll them evenly in your hands, and place them on the tray. You’re making quick work of it too.

“Matter of fact, you look like a pro,” he adds.

You flash him a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Yeah, well, my mom and I used to do this together every year when I was a kid. Snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip—”

“I think I get the picture,” Dean says with a growing smile. You return it, but your expression starts to fade the longer you think of her.

Dean catches the shift; he knows your mom passed just a few years ago, losing her battle with lung cancer. He and Sam attended the funeral.

Dean understands. He just lost his own mother a few months ago—again. Another reason he can’t quite be Mr. Nice Guy with Jack. At least, not how they used to be. He knows it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Logically, Dean knows this. The nephilim didn’t have his soul.

In Dean’s heart though, his mom is still gone from this world. She got cheated out of her second chance at life. And deep down, selfishly, Dean feels cheated too.

It’s a reminder that gets stuck in his throat. But it dislodges another memory, one he feels comfortable enough with you to share, in the privacy of a quiet kitchen.

“I think I remember helping my mom bake something once, when I was a kid,” Dean admits. Though he clears his throat when your gaze turns to him in interest.

“Think it was chocolate chip cookies…well, whatever, they were hard as a rock,” he says, smiling at the memory. “So we went to the store and bought some from the bakery instead.”

You watch how his face softens, in the way it does whenever he talks about his mother. You smile just as softly.

“Aw, little Dean,” you say, because you can imagine it so clearly. Maybe he’s four or five, working dough between his small hands. And beautiful Mary, smiling beside him, encouraging him.

Dean’s eyes meet yours, uncomfortable with the gentle way you’re looking at him. So he clears his throat and goes into the fridge. He pulls out the eggnog and finds the rum you bought last night, specifically for what he’s about to do.

“Ooh, good idea,” you say as he fixes both of you a glass. Though you balk at his heavy pour of rum. “Geez, trying to get me drunk before noon?”

He grins at you. “Morning, night, and day are the only times to be drunk.”

You snort in response.

“Is that all?” you remark, and you wipe your hands of the wet dough (and most of the flour) before you take the glass he offers. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, even though you choke on it soon after.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” you cough. He had to have poured half the bottle of Bacardi Superior in there.

Dean sucks between his teeth. “Yep, that is bracing.”

He glances over at you and smiles, raising a finger at the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve got some there,” he points out. You touch your chin, trying to feel for anything on your face.

“Where?”

“On your mustache, there.”

“I don’t have a mustache!” you say indignantly. You know this for a fact, as you spent a fair amount of time waxing and shaving yourself last night.

…Not that you had any particular reason to (or anyone to wax for), you just noticed that you needed some grooming. That’s all.

Dean’s grin edges into a teasing smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s cute. Less Duck Dynasty and more Steve Harvey, Family Feud guy.”

You splutter laughing and hit his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re such an ass.”

He chuckles and wipes the bit of eggnog from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. It makes your cheeks flare with a warm blush.

“Well, I uh, should get these into the fridge to chill,” you say. You grab the tray of rolled up cookie dough and head for the fridge, but maybe you’re more frazzled than you realize.

You accidentally knock into Dean’s elbow, making him spill half his drink down the front of his shirt.

You gasp, eyes flying wide, while he looks down at the mess now dripping from his shirt onto the floor. When he eventually looks up at you in deadpan exasperation, you have to bite your lip against a smile.

“Good job,” he cracks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a bubble of nervous laughter. “Hold on.”

You finish putting the tray in the fridge and immediately turn to grab a few paper towels. You go to Dean and start helping him blot out the sticky, frothy mess staining through his green flannel and black undershirt, from chest to sternum.

The problem is, the paper towel is thin and breaking off on his shirt, making your task damn near impossible. White, wet pieces of paper are coming off on his black shirt.

“Well, you’re doing great,” Dean wryly remarks.

You can’t help but giggle. “It’s not all my damn fault here. Who the hell buys one-ply paper towels?”

“Sam. Evidently, he’s cheap as hell,” he replies, eliciting another laugh from you.

Soon enough you give up on the paper towel with a huff, and you go to grab an actual hand towel. Dean follows you, which assures that you bump into him again when you turn back around.

You yelp as your foot starts to slip on the sticky drops on the floor, but Dean grabs your arms, steadying you. You can’t help but giggle again, looking up at him. He quirks an amused smile down at you.

But then your face slackens as you gaze up above his head. He curiously follows suit.

And you both realize that you’ve fallen into a trap.

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you, this time with a growing smirk.

“My turn,” he says. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he asks.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Well, I didn’t put on lipstick for nothing, you muse. And though anticipation and nerves trill down your spine, you lean up on your toes, take his face between your flour-stained hands, and press your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss, and his hands come to rest along the curve of your waist, holding you close.

When you pull away, you suddenly realize just what you’ve done as you let your hands fall away from his face. You’re not quite sure what to do with them afterwards, so they clench awkwardly in the air between you two.

Dean looks down at you with a softer, yet playful smirk. He reluctantly drops his hands from your waist.

But he makes a show of licking his lips. You taste sweeter than boozy eggnog…actually, you taste more like chocolate. He glances behind you, and sure enough, he spies the Nestle bag in the corner.

“Chocolate chips?” he notes, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe those weren’t originally meant to be sugar cookies, huh?”

His gaze is drawn to the way you bite your lip again, trying to hold back an embarrassed smile. You raise a hand to wipe the imprint of MAC’s “Russian Red” lipstick from his mouth, and he smirks under the pad of your thumb.

“You saw nothing,” you warn him. You attempt to stifle another nervous giggle. “You’re officially sworn to secrecy.”

He hums at that. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

“You’re asking for a bribe?” You raise a brow.

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Maybe. What’cha got for me?”

He rests a hand on the counter by your arm, subtly leaning in and looming over you with his broad frame. A hot blush heats your cheeks, then down your neck. And then excitement bubbles inside you.

Because the one thing you never thought would happen seems to be happening: Dean is actually, honest to God flirting with you.

Your mouth twitches at a smile as you pretend to think.

“Hmm…okay! I got it,” you say.

You grip the front of his shirt, and once again lean up on your toes so you can kiss him. This time, Dean holds you there by your cheek. His large hand presses against your warm skin, and his fingers soon delve into your hair. You hum against his lips and deepen the angle of your kiss, your palms lying flat against his chest.

So fucking firm, you think. A solid wall of a man.

Dean’s free hand falls warmly on your hip, bringing you ever closer. He makes a pleased sound when you suck and nip at his lower lip. And with each new kiss, you’re falling deeper and deeper into the intoxication of him.

Before you realize it, he’s walked you back to press you into the little table in the kitchen, where you all shared breakfast this morning. But you surprise him by breaking the kiss. You pull away just enough to see his confused, handsome face.

“There you go. That’s your payment,” you tease. “Good enough?”

“Hell fucking no,” Dean rasps.

He dives back in to claim your lips, and you smile, letting him do it. Your whole body is buzzing with warmth of feeling and happiness, especially when his arms slip around you firmly and pull you flush against him. Your hands travel up his flannel-clad arms to wind around his neck.

A moan catches in your throat when his lips veer away from yours, beginning a path along the curve of your jaw, down the side of your neck, stopping just under your ear. His stubble prickles against your skin in the most delicious of ways. Your eyes close at the feeling.

You sigh and card your fingers up the back of his neck, through his hair. “Dean…”

He surprises you with a nipping kiss on your earlobe, making you jump a little with a yelp.

You utter a laugh and playfully tighten your hand in his hair. “Hey!”

The sound of his deep, muffled chuckle in your ear sends tingles along your skin and heat, down between your legs. You let out a shaking sigh and press kisses of your own to his neck.

You tug at the collar of his shirt to reveal more skin, so you can latch onto his shoulder next. It’s a playful bite, one that elicits a groan from Dean as his thigh slips between both of yours.

His hands find your waist, and with a quiet grunt, he hefts you up onto the kitchen table. You squeal at the sudden move, clinging to his shoulders when the table shakes a bit.

But it prompts you to look up at Dean’s face. You see the desire darkening his eyes to hunter green. And his hands part your knees to let him stand between them.

You blush hotly when his palms smooth up your bare thighs, over the skirt of your dress. He drags the thin fabric with him and rucks it up well above your knees. Your mouth parts on a shaky breath when those sinful hands stop at your hips, bunching up the fabric there.

“I like this dress,” he mentions. Your mouth curves with a grin.

“I think it likes you back,” you reply. Your gaze falls to his chest as you pick at the collar of his flannel. “This should go, though.”

With an amused huff, Dean shrugs out of the green plaid first. You help him with the black undershirt next, giggling a little when it gets caught on his wrist and spikes up his short hair. That’s all right, you think, because you’re about to mess it up even more.

Your hands run over his bare chest first though, as you drink him in with your eyes. Dean notices with a smirk, and he lets you pull him in again by his hair as you meet him with a passionate kiss.

He likes the way you try to devour him with lips and tongue and teeth. In turn, he slips underneath the skirt of your dress and squeezes your thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, allowing him to devour you back. It makes you realize that this is seriously heading somewhere. It’s hot and heady and his touch is making your head swim. But your heart shoots you a firm reminder…

One that makes you slower to respond to Dean’s increasingly demanding kiss.

Sensing your hesitation though, Dean slows his roll.

“You okay?” his deep voice rumbles.

When you don’t have a ready answer for him, he pulls back enough to see your face. He finds your uncertainty.

You look down in embarrassment.

Even though his heart is still pounding (and his dick straining in his jeans), Dean moves his hands from under your skirt, back to your waist. And he raises his brows, ducking to find your eyes. Once you meet his gaze, he gives you a smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he prompts. His thumbs brush against your sides, earning your weak smile back. Your hands slide down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just, um…” you stumble on your words. You’re not sure how you want to say this, but Dean’s brows are knitting together. His face is more serious now as he watches you with singular focus. It gives you enough courage to put your heart in his hands.

“This, us, right now…is this a one-time deal?” you ask.

Out of all the things he thought you might say, maybe Dean should’ve prepared for that one a bit better. He frowns, considering how to answer you—and what would put the least amount of pressure on you. Even though his gut is telling him (kicking him), on what he should really tell you.

But those words get stuck in his mouth. So all he can bring himself to say is…

“If you want it to be,” he says.

You bite your lip at that. Though not in a good way, his instincts also tell him. Your gaze falls.

“That’s just it,” you say. After a moment, you manage to look up at him again.

“I don’t think I can do that,” you say in measured tones, even though you’re scared. “I like you, Dean.”

The “like” feels like something a lot deeper, even to your own ears.

But you don’t expect the way Dean’s guarded face softens.

He breaks into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You close your eyes at the tender touch.

“Well, that’s good,” he says. “Because here I was, trying to wrap my head around how I was supposed to let you go after havin’ you…right where I want you.”

Your eyes flash open at that. Then he leans down and kisses you again. Your shock is a powerful thing, but it all but melts at his touch. You relax into him with a sigh of relief, kissing him back and closing your eyes against the sweet sting of tears.

You don’t have time to let them fall though. Dean doesn’t give that to you. He pulls you by your thighs until you’re at the edge of the table. You feel his hands travel up and curl around the waistband of your underwear. You raise up for him so he can tug them down, over your ass and thighs, and you kick the black, lacy panties off your foot with a giggle.

Dean grins, especially when you go for his belt. Your eyes briefly meet with his while you make quick work of the buckle, then the button and zipper on his jeans. You hook two fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and tug him closer.

“Come ‘ere,” you whisper.

Smirking, Dean obliges you, stepping closer into your orbit. And he has to grip your thighs for support when you slide a hand down the front of his underwear, feeling down the length of his hard cock with a gentle, sensuous hand. He moans, pressing his forehead into your shoulder.

“Ooh, finders keepers,” you tease. Dean snorts against your neck and presses a biting kiss there, satisfied by the way you gasp and shiver.

You feel the shape of his smile on your skin. But he grabs your arms tight when your hand squeezes experimentally around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You gonna keep teasing me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you reply cheekily. All the while, you continue to caress him within the confines of his pants, especially brushing your thumb around the sensitive head.

If you keep this up, he’s not going to last long enough to do everything he wants to do to you. Everything he’s dreamed about for years with a hand wrapped around himself…but he’s been too much of a fucking coward to make that leap with you.

He told himself he was protecting you. That you were better off with someone less damaged. That he’d just drag you down into his hellish life.

But he just can’t fucking take it anymore.

So Dean grasps your wrist, prompting you to release him. You look down at his face and catch the way his playfulness fades into a more concentrated desire. The heat in his eyes makes your mouth part in soft surprise.

Dean picks up from where he left off before, pressing a hand to your cheek and ravaging your lips. His hand then slides into your hair and gets a firm grip. All the while, his free one slips beneath your dress and between your legs. First he just teases the seam of your pussy with the calloused pads of his fingertips.

Your breath catches in your throat as you squeeze his shoulders and lean back, giving him a better angle. And you utter a moan when those thick digits slip between your folds and sink deeply into your wet heat.

“Dean,” you gasp his name into his mouth. The hand in your hair tightens as he works you over, exploring your inner channel with two fingers while this thumb presses and circles around your clit. Your tremulous hips begin to move in time with his rhythm, meeting his thrusts as you pulse deep inside with pleasure.

His lips drift away from your mouth, pressing against your cheek, then into your neck.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me,” he says hotly in your ear. His thumb rubs more insistently against your clit in time with his pulsing fingers.

Your inner walls squeeze around his hand, tighter and tighter. And you utter a gasping moan into his ear as you cling to him. Dean strokes inside you through your shuddering release. It’s almost too much, but it prolongs the feeling of your pleasure and makes your arms tremble around his neck.

Afterwards, he rubs your lower back until you catch your breath. You manage to press a grateful kiss into his neck, then his cheek.

“Holy shit,” you utter. It earns a genuine laugh from Dean as he cups the back of your head.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he promises, leaning back to look into your eyes. “I think you’re gonna be more comfortable in my room.”

You tilt your head at him. “Or…”

You shuffle even closer to him on the table and pull off your dress, slipping it over your head. You feel a little self-conscious in exposing your full self to him, but Dean watches you undress with hungry eyes and a tight jaw.

After your black dress falls to the floor, he takes in the sight of your body, his gaze landing on the black lace bra still covering your breasts. His hands slip up the curve of your waist, up your sides, and slide behind to unhook your bra.

His mouth burns a trail down your chest, between the valley of your breasts when he drags the bra down your arms and to the floor. You grab onto his arms for support; you feel like you’re riding the hurricane that is Dean Winchester, and you don’t expect to come out intact.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shudder. You suck in a breath as his hands cup your breasts, roughly kneading and rolling his thumbs over pert nipples.

“Smooth talker,” you manage to quip with a smile.

“Ain’t nothin’ but the truth,” he tells you. “Feels like I’ve been waiting a goddamn lifetime for this.”

His eyes are dark with desire, but they’re also serious. Your voice gets stuck in your throat for a moment. He’d been waiting for you?

But you realize that sometimes, words are overrated. You slide your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and taking satisfaction from the way he groans into yours.

He holds you flush against his chest, skin to blushing skin. He runs his warm hands down your naked back, familiarizes himself with each and every one of your curves.

Dean’s waited so long for this, he doesn’t know whether to take his time, or just take you right now before someone walks into the open kitchen.

But you make the decision for him.

You break away from his lips to drag his belt and jeans down, just enough to shuffle them past his hips. Dean’s lips curve into a smirk. It would be easier to turn you around and bend you over on the table (and the thought is pretty fucking appealing right now).

…But he wants to see your face. He wants to know, looking in your eyes, what you want from him and how his touch makes you feel.

So he helps you free his straining cock from his boxers to line himself up to your entrance.

With his arm wrapped around your waist to support you, and a hand on the table, Dean sheathes himself inside you. You both release shaking breaths as he bottoms out, stretching your inner walls and wrapping firmly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You nod at that, wiping the dewy sweat forming above his brow. He flashes you a grin, one you recognize from his younger, more boyish days. It’s a welcome sight, and you smile back and wrap your legs around his hips. If possible, it buries him deeper inside you. He groans.

“Damn, baby,” he says, panting for breath. “Haven’t even started yet, but you might just kill me.”

“There are worse ways to go,” you tease.

He snorts at that. In their line of work, isn’t that the fucking truth.

When he begins to slide out of you for the first time, you brace yourself with a hand at the back of his neck and another on the table. Dean begins a steady rhythm, one that serves you well as you get used to the size of him.

But eventually you urge him on faster, your nails scraping through his hair and against his scalp. He groans and drives into you at a clip that makes your toes curl and a keen high in your throat.

He spills hotly inside you when he comes.

You know you shouldn’t have let him, but you wanted to feel him, wanted to hold him the way he held you. And you do so, stroking his cheek and drawing a thumb across his full lower lip as he shudders.

But Dean isn’t satisfied, not until his fingers further part your folds and find your still sensitive clit. He rubs and circles insistently, until you can’t help but give him your second release, shuddering a moan as you cling to him. He holds you with an arm wrapped tight around your lower back, pressing your breasts against his chest.

You both pant for breath. His cheek rests alongside yours, and both of your eyes close for a moment. You brush your fingers more gently through his hair.

“Dean,” you start to say, but the sound of the bunker’s door unlocking makes you both freeze.

“Shit,” Dean mutters.

You can’t see them from the kitchen, but you hear Sam and Jack come in. Oh fuck.

Dean reluctantly detangles himself from you and wrestles up his underwear and jeans. Meanwhile, you hop off the kitchen table to grab your dress, pulling it on as you look for your bra and panties.

Sam calls your name, then Dean’s. But the two of you ignore him as you try to silently scramble around.

You manage to find your bra, but you don’t have time to put it on. You shove it behind the toaster. Then you find a napkin to wipe off the rest of your lipstick.

Meanwhile, Dean finds his black shirt. He hesitates when he sees it’s stained all over with flour and dried eggnog, but he puts it on anyway. (He won’t realize until later that his hair and shoulders are flecked with the stuff, just as his lips and chin are still smudged with your lipstick.)

He grabs the green flannel you throw at him, and he finds your panties tossed in the corner. He raises up the black lace in his hand and smirks at you with waggling brows.

“Give me that!” you whisper-hiss. The slick between your thighs is already becoming uncomfortable, along with the chill on your bare ass under the dress.

But instead of obeying, Dean winks at you and pockets them instead. You gape in disbelief as he flees the kitchen, presumably to disappear into his room. It leaves you in a…sticky situation, so to speak.

Sam calls your name questioningly when he comes around the corner. He pops into the kitchen with a few Walmart bags in hand. Sticking out of one of them are some stockings, you notice.

“Hey, how’s the baking going?” he asks.

“Good!” you say, though your voice is far too high and chipper. “Good. Just about to get them into the…oven.”

You turn and realize you haven’t even pre-heated the oven. You do so after pressing a few buttons, and you go to the fridge to grab the tray of chilling dough.

Sam raises a brow at you, especially when he sees your frizzy hair, and the flour stained across your bottom.

But he wisely doesn’t comment.

Later that night, Dean lays on his bed. He’s long since showered, fully clothed, arms crossed while his music plays from his laptop. But he can’t make himself focus on anything else but you.

How it was to finally have you; not just the give of your soft curves under his hands, but the sound of your voice coming apart in his ear, the way you’d begged him, at times teased him, and then gave him a run for his money with your wily hands and tongue.

Dean’s had all of that running through his head for the rest of the damn day.

And there were stolen looks at dinner that evening. Furtive smiles. Brief, innocent touches. Moments where you blushed down to your neck, and he had to hide his amusement. (Even if his brother had noted his apparent good mood at dinner.)

But between Sam and the two angels hanging around, Dean hasn’t had a chance to talk to you after what happened in the kitchen. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

If you want it to be, he’d said, when you asked if this was going to be a one-time thing.

He hopes he made himself clear—that this is not that kind of deal. Not for him.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of what he couldn’t have, and worse, now that he knows you want more from him…he just can force himself to let go this time.

There’s a thought that he doesn’t want to face. It’s been buried so deep, for so long, that he can’t even commit it to the forefront of his mind.

But it’s there.

Despite the hell he attracts like flies to shit, he wants you. Not for one night. Not just for kicks. He wants you to stay arguing with him about stupid shit, taking his teasing and dishing it right back—like making fun of his slippers and how much he secretly likes country music.

He wants you with him and Sam on hunts, even though it also makes him worry. (But he worries much more when he knows you’re out there, hunting alone.)

Dean thinks about you when you’re not around, more often than he’d like to admit. So today, he finally had to face the truth.

He wants you. More than he’s wanted anything in a long time. And he wants to find out what it’ll be like to try this for real, with you.

The thought that you still could be thinking otherwise, wondering, doubting him, has Dean going mildly insane.

It’s not right, and he takes pride in righting wrongs.

So he decides to break out of the confines of his room to find yours. It lies down the hall and to the left; he knows because you take the same room every time you stay at the bunker, which admittedly, isn’t as often as he likes. Maybe they can change that…

“Oh. Hello, Dean,” says Castiel.

Dean inwardly curses as the angel comes from the opposite direction. Already he’s tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s late. Feeling peckish?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies. He moves past the angel and continues down the hall.

“Dean,” the angel calls to him.

Dean pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The kitchen is the other way,” Castiel points in the direction in which he’s going.

“Uh…well, yeah,” Dean says. “I just, uh…”

Cas’s head tilts just so, confusion soon replacing his curiosity.

“Never mind,” Dean waves a dismissive hand. He’s forced to follow his friend down the hall, away from your bedroom door which lies just inches away.

He doesn’t know that you can hear the entire conversation from the safety of your bed, comfortable in your pajamas. You have to stifle a giggle as you listen to Dean fumbling. You have a feeling you know where he’d really been headed.

So you take your phone out and text him.

Foiled by Columbo once again, you tease.

Moments later, Dean texts you back.

More like cock-blocked.

You snicker at that. You still haven’t given back my panties.

And you ain’t getting them back. They’re spoils of war.

You roll your eyes. But then Dean starts typing again.

Just to recap. Today: not a one-time thing.

Your smile grows and warms, like melted butter.

Good…can we talk tomorrow?

It’s a date, he says. And a beat later. Merry Christmas, beautiful.

You realize it’s officially 12:00 a.m. Christmas morning. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.

Merry Christmas, Dean.

AN: 😏 Well then. Merry Christmas, indeed. Let me know what you thought of Part 2!

Next Time:

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage.

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car?

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Or will he? 😉

Find out in PART 3.

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

Comment below or send me an ask if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

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normalaboutfugo · 10 months ago

Text

"I can't find an ask box so I'mma just drop this here! I would love something with mafia boss GIORNO finding out his mom had another kid and pretty much goes feral to adopt them !! tyy"

𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 — 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌.

⋆₊☆ ⊂⊃ platonic yandere don!giorno || m.list

[ warning :: PLATONIC/NOT ROMANTIC, kinda kidnapping, platonic yandere ]

[ notes :: first post!! thank you @foundfamyanderes for requesting!! <3 i can't remember what happened to gio's mom but just pretend she left giorno and had reader and left them too lol ]

[ important :: see this post on another blog? likely a repost to my rebranded multi-fandom blog! don't be afraid to check, but if they're not linked w me, let me know! <33 ]

— when giogio first learns his mother went on to have another kid, he wanted to have a genuine connection, and he did everything in his power to find them. what if you weren't doing so well on your own, assuming that your mother didn't care about you, like she didn't with him? there's no way he'd let his own blood live like this, especially when he was doing so well.

— giorno did everything he could to look for you, searched the internet under the last name shiobana to find a lead, he looked for his mom's profile online, and when he found it, he saw various pictures of drinks, club floors, everything you'd expect from someone like her.

— it took a long time, quite a bit of searching through what seemed like a million pictures of your mom partying — giorno scrolled for hours and hours, ignoring the way his eyes burnt when he looked at the screen for too long.

— finally, after he thought he was starting to fall asleep from staring at the bright computer screen for forever, he found multiple pictures of selfies from his mom with the head of a child in the background; cropped out the best if could be, but still quite obvious you existed.

— it took a long time to find you, but honestly, it confused giorno. why was he so hooked on meeting you? he only found out you existed a few days ago, and you didn't even know you had a half brother.

— when giorno finally found you, he had immediately introduced himself to you — not as the don, but as your brother. he wanted to have a genuine connection with you, because he never had a sibling, and while everyone in bucciarati's gang were like family, but blood ran thicker than water.

— and upon finding out you were broke and living on pickpocketing because your mother left you? giorno spoiled the fuck out of you. when he met you, he treated you to a meal at one of the nicest places in italy because he wanted to make a good impression, but when he finds out you're not used to such good dining and being treated well?

— most definitely takes you shopping for whatever you want, turning you down when you say you'll pay him back for it.

"Here, whatever you want."

"That's...! Giorno, no, I'll pay you back as soon as I ca-"

"With money you took? Don't worry about it, there's more than enough for you to have what you wanted."

— reader goes quiet real quick

— not long after meeting him, giorno offers you a place to live. the streets got cold at night, and he would know. gratefully, you accepted it; what else could you do?

— it doesn't take long for giorno to get overbearing. he'll start putting extra locks on the doors, and when questioned, express that he just wants you to feel safer in your new home.

"..Giorno, what's with the locks on the door?"

"The locks? Oh, I wanted to make sure you felt safe, is all. Is there a problem?"

"Well.. no, I just.. don't you think it's a bit much?"

"Mm.. no, I don't think so. You can never be too sure."

— he might even give you a curfew at first

— he'll give you the reasoning that the streets of italy aren't safe at later times, which is semi-true. it really wasn't safe to be roaming around at night, especially after you start living with the boss himself; word spreads like wildfire in passione, and a bounty would be placed on your head by traitors before you know it.

— eventually, a curfew turns into him spending every second with you during your outings, and that turns into you just not being allowed to leave the house at all.

— even if he needs to pull a few strings to find a reason to keep you home, he'll do what he needs.

"The strap on your bag, it's broken."

"Oh, yes.. I noticed a bit ago, but it's no big deal."

"That's fine, we can get you a new one today. There's got to be something identical somewhere."

"Should I get ready to go out, then?"

"No, you don't need to. We can find something online, or I can go find it at the store we bought it from."

"..Oh. Why?"

"I don't want you going out."

— when you bring up your concerns to him about not being allowed to leave, he takes it really well, as if he'd just up and abandoned his previous reasons for you being kept inside. and after that, you go to bed that night with relief, sleeping easily knowing that it's going to change.

— except for in the morning, when you're leaving the room, you turn the doorknob only to realize you were locked in from the outside. on the nearest table is a notepad, next to a plate of food and a cup of water. written in red ink,

"[READER],

It's wrong to lock you up, but I can't bring myself to put you in danger and allow you to leave. But I can also promise it's only temporary, I want you to be happy here. I had some business with the famiglia, so I left home quite early this morning. I will return, but while I'm not there, I left food and a glass of water next to this note. I'll be seeing you soon.

— Giorno

#jjba x reader #jjba yandere #yandere giorno #NOT INCEST #NOT ROMANTIC #tw yandere #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #yandere giorno x reader #golden wind x reader #jjba part 5 x reader

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cas-skz · 2 years ago

Text

Stress Relief

Hongjoong x Fem!reader

| non idol au | friends with benefits to lovers |

He’s been your best friend and fuck buddy for over a year now, but what happens when a box of letters is found.

18+!!! MDNI plz&thnx

Warnings: Alcohol, intoxication, smoking weed bruh, mention of death, petnames (baby girl, sweet boy, good girl, brat, BDSM (dom & little duo, nipple play, spanking, sex toy, pinning), oral (m & f), possessive partners, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, squirting

Requests are open :]

writers note: sometimes I like to challenge myself and see how many rounds and finishes I can work into one story. Idk what my record is but this might be it. Okok lmao byeeee

cas xx

“Do you only visit me when you’re mad?” Hongjoong asked, leaning on the side of the doorframe. His head tilted as he eyed you, hair thrown in a messy bun and a bottle of tequila in hand.

He motioned for you to come in, closing the door behind you as you kicked off your shoes and plopped yourself on his large sofa.

“You’re good for stress relief,” you mumble, twisting the cap from the tequila before taking a long swing.

Hongjoong plopped down next to you, one arm wrapping around your shoulder as he grabbed the bottle, taking a drink himself. “Talk to me Vegas girl.”

You smacked his chest, a smile creeping onto your lips. It was his nickname for you, after having met at his bar’s Halloween party a year before.

“Just stupid work shit. My boss says all my designs suck and I can’t think of anything new, so she’s basically breathing down my neck all day.”

You grabbed the bottle, taking another drink. “Any my mother. I don’t understand why that woman is so eager for me to settle down and have kids.”

“I can help you have a kid”

You hit his chest again, “shut up” you laughed.

Working in the fashion industry was extremely time consuming, which left no time for real dating. Hongjoong just happened to stick around, growing closer over time. You caught feelings a while ago, but we’re to scared to admit it.

“Why do you think the creative block is happening?”

You sighed heavily, “I have no idea. The last good thing I came up with was after we spent Christmas together.”

A smirk took over Hongjoong’s face, his fingers playing with your hair. “That was a good Christmas.”

One thing you had in common was your hatred for the holiday. So rather than the present giving and fancy food, you two had ordered a bunch of junk, gotten a ton of weed and alcohol. Then spent hours fucking.

The tequila bottle was empty sooner than you wanted it to be, not realizing you had been chatting and venting about life for the past hour.

“Can you walk a straight line?” He teased, heading to his home bar and grabbing a few joints. He motioned for you to follow him to the balcony.

He watched as you tiptoed on a line in the wood, poking your nose with each pointer finger as you did. You were quite tipsy, but always had good balance.

“Yes I can, sir.” You smirk, brushing past him, squealing as he slapped your ass.

Your lungs filled with smoke as your eyes scanned over the city. The lights and sounds echoed, beautiful in its own way.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you, his head resting on your shoulder as you brought the joint to his lips.

You stayed like that for a while, silently smoking, relaxing into his arms.

His hand eventually started to sneak up the front of your shirt, his fingers sliding along the trim of your lace bralette before dipping inside. A soft moan escaped your lips as he started to twist and flick your nipple gently.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked, his breath hot against your ear.

“Maybe.”

His free hand slapped down on your ass, stinging the skin under the thing fabric of your leggings. “Cute.”

You rolled your hips into his, feeling his hardening cock through his pants. Giving your was a little wiggle, you hum happily

Hongjoong’s hand left your breast and quickly went to your neck, wrapping easily around it as he pulled your head back to look at him. “Don’t start that.”

“Or what?” You pushed into his crotch again.

You were definitely feeling the effects of the weed and tequila, it brought out your bratty side.

His grip tightened around your throat the smallest bit, “You know the punishment.”

You trailed your finger nails along his arm, watching as goosebumps followed in their path. “Punishment for what? Making your crumble under my touch?”

Hongjoong’s hand slid down your body, resting both his hands on your hips as he pulled your core into his, “Is that what you think?”

You spun in his grasp, placing a hand on his chest, “I don’t think. I know.” You leaned up on your tip toes, placing wet kisses along his jaw line.

Your opposite hand snuck into his pants, grasping his thick cock head, your thumb rubbing gently over the top, using his pre cum as lube.

Hongjoong moaned softly, his body tensed under your touch. You pushed his pants down a bit to expose his firm length, your hand giving him a few pumps before firming your grip a bit. You pulled him along by his cock back into the house.

You freed your grasp and pointed towards the couch, Hongjoong slapped your ass as you walked away and sat himself on the couch. He pulled his pants down a bit more, hand wrapping around his cock as he watched you.

You walked to the stereo system, putting on one of the playlists you made together.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” You smirked, eyeing his hand slowly pumping his length. You slowly took your shirt off, followed by your leggings before crawling onto the coffee table. “Eager aren’t you.”

“Says the one who’s already naked.”

You stopped midway on the table, leaning up and trailing your fingers across the lace strap of the bralette. “I still have this on. Why don’t you get rid of your clothes?”

He quickly stripped off his clothes as you propped yourself on the table, placing both your hands on your thighs as you eyed him.

Hongjoong grabbed you by the back of your head, not hard enough to hurt. He pulled you up to him, a soft whine escaping your lips as he roughly kissed you. “Are you gonna be a good girl now?”

You didn’t answer, instead gave him a little snarky look. He moved you with one hand, bending you over on the couch, your head on the cushion and ass in the air. You looked behind you as Hongjoong stroked his cock a few times before pushing deeply inside you.

He bottomed out and held himself there, his hand slapping down on your ass. You could feel yourself already leaking, walls clenching at the smallest amount of arousal.

You tried to move your hips but his hand slapped down, holding you in place. “You fucking brat.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” You contracted your walls around him, moaning softly. You looked at him with puppy dog eyes, biting your lip, “You can fuck me now or hold your load until my punishment is over.”

Hongjoong’s hips started to move the tiniest bit, his cock poking at your g-spot. His eyes locked with yours, “You want me to fuck your little pussy numb?” He pulled his cock mostly out before slamming it back in, repeating his actions. “Is that what you want baby girl?”

“Please, my sweet boy, please fuck me.”

His hips started to thrust, soft moans joining yours. You watched as his dark expression turned soft, his cock flowing in and out of your entrance. “Hongie…”’ You moaned, your release dripping down your legs.

Hongjoong pulled out quickly, his mouth clapping over your pussy, his tongue lapping and sucking at your clit. He slapped your ass again, making it sting red from the repeated smacks. “Come here.” He pulled you up into a kiss, his hands tangling into your hair.

You moaned into each other as Hongjoong sat on the couch, pulling you into his lap. You quickly lined his cock up with your entrance and slid down, starting to ride him, “You feel so fucking good.” You moaned, hips starting to pick up speed.

His hands reached up to grab your neck again, pulling your head to his as he gave you a sloppy kiss. “You like riding your sweet boys cock, don’t you?” He said against your lips, “That’s your fucking cock isn’t it?”

You smirked, kissing down his chin, up his jawline and sucking gently on his neck. “You’re all mine.” You whispered in his ear, your second climax quickly approaching. His cock firmed, hinting he was close to.

Hongjoong’s arms wrapped around you as your body picked up speed, his hips thrusting with yours. You brought your face back to his, pressing your foreheads together as your body started to shake. “Who’s your favorite little brat?”

Your bodies came to a stop as his cock started to twitch, filling you with his warm cum. “You know you are baby girl.” He kissed your lips softly, sweet tender kisses that made you tingle. “You belong to me.” He said quietly.

His words made you smile. You were both so possessive over each other, yet had no plans or even talked about committing. Things just worked out smoothly without labels. But fuck, you secretly wanted more.

You smiled down at Hongjoong, lifting your self off him, your combined releases dripping under you. “I like the sound of that, but now I have Taylor Swift suck in my head.” You laughed, skipping off to the bathroom.

He followed, using the bathroom after you before you both headed to his bedroom. You climbed onto his large bed, stopping when you spotted a wooden box on the nightstand. “What’s that?” You ask with a tilt of the head.

Hongjoong walked quickly to the other side of the bed and grabbed the box, his face flushing a deep red. “Hongie.” You shot him a ‘seriously’ look, since you two rarely kept secrets from one another.

“Seriously it’s nothing. Just a box.” He was trying to find a place to stash it, you were getting more and more curious.

“You’re being weird. What is it?” You laugh, crawling to the end of the bed where he was, you poked his side. “What are you hiding.”

Hongjoong held it a bit above his head, a small smile pulling at his lips from your tickling. “Stop, it’s stupid. You don’t want to know.” You kept poking and tickling, he backed into the dresser, causing the box to fall to the ground next to him.

You leaned over the bed, starting towards the flipped box.

“No, seriously Y/N, you don’t want to see that.”

When you flipped the box, there was a pile of letters and pictures of the two of you. Hongjoong sighed and sat on the bed, his head hung as you picked up the pile and scooted back.

“What…what is this?” You asked quietly, flipping through the pictures you had taken together over the past year. There were letters, with dates on them.

Hongjoong turned to you, looking shyly through his shaggy hair. “Everything I’ve wanted to say, but couldn’t.”

You flicked through the letters, just reading the dates. There were 12 in total, starting from the Halloween night you met. You swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.

“You can read them if you want.” His voice was shaky with nerves.

You moved to sit next to him, your heart racing as you looked at him. “Do you want me to?” You asked softly

He was quiet for a long moment before answering, “Yeah, I do.”

"Can you read them to me?"

You and Hongjoong went to the top of the bed, resting against the headboard.

He started the first letter.

“I didn’t expect to meet anyone after Haley died, especially someone who could make me smile like an idiot after an hour of knowing them. Dressed like a Vegas show girl, but with eyes that told a million stories. The most captivating smile. It hasn’t been this easy to talk in a long time, but they opened that side up again.”

He handed you the letter, along with a picture the bar photographer had taken of the two of you.

“You have me smiling like a fucking idiot. One night stands aren’t supposed to hang out until the early evening, at least from what I know. Your comfortable, your ora is calming. I feel guilty. Guilty for feeling happy. I don’t want to lose you, so friends will have to do for now.”

He handed you the second letter, you confirmed the date was the end of November, when you first hooked up with him.

Hongjoong spent a few more minutes carefully reading his letters and passing them to you. They all described his feelings towards you, how they grew, how he didn’t want to lose you. It made your heart do flips.

The last letter was from a few weeks ago, New Year’s Eve. He passed it directly to you, since it only had a few words on it.

“Tell her you fucking love her.”

You stared at the paper for a long moment, heart rate starting to increase again. Everything you had been to scared to admit to yourself, he had written on paper. It still scared you, those words. The thought of losing him. But what’s life without taking any risks.

“Look..I get it, if you don’t feel the same way.”

You quickly moved your body to straddle his, pressing your lips deeply into his as tears started to flow down your face. You didn’t want to stop kissing him, the sweet taste of his lips mixing with salty tears.

“Why are you crying?” He asked quietly, barely pulling away from your lips.

You looked into his eyes, “because I love you.” You paused, sniffing as he kissed away your tears. “And it scares the shit out of me.”

Hongjoong wrapped you in a hug, one that you returned happily. You held each other for a while, his hand slowly rubbing your back.

“I love you. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He said, leaning back against the headboard, brushing some hair behind your ear.

“I’m not going anywhere either.” You smiled, kissing his lips again. “You’re not gonna go all mushy on me now, are you?”

He laughed, holding onto you as he flipped you on your back. “The letters are as mushy as I can get. For now.”

Hongjoong dipped his head down to gently kiss your lips, trailing soft kissed down your body as he pushed your legs apart. His lips kissed your thighs before his tongue started to work at your clit, lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud.

Maybe it was the emotional confession, but you swore everything felt more erotic than any other time.

You ball your hand in his hair, cursing quietly as his tongue worked quickly causing your body to twitch and tremble.

Hongjoong’s arms held your body down as you rode out another high, his eyes meeting with yours as he worked his way back up your body, lips crashing into yours.

His eyes went dark again, a smirk crossing his lips as he unexpected shoved his cock in your swollen entrance. His hand wrapped around your neck again, “You make me so happy baby girl.”

You squirmed a bit under him, his pelvis pushed down to hold your core in place. “My sweet boy, this is torture.” You whimpered, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Exactly.” Hongjoong quickly leaned over to his bedside table, grabbing a small metallic bullet vibrator.

You whined quietly as the small toy started up, his hand slipped from your neck as he used it to lift himself a bit. He moved the toy slowly down your chest to your left nipple, pinching it between a finger and the toy. He repeated his actions with the right nipple.

Hongjoong continued to hold you down as he moved the vibrator down your body, sliding it between your folds and tucking it against your clit.

“Hongie…” you moaned, your breathing becoming more and more erratic as pressure built in your core. Hongjoong moved your arms above your head, hiding his head in your neck as he kept himself still inside you.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. Every little thing was pushing you closer to climax. He brought his lips to yours finally, kissing you sweetly as he laced your fingers together.

“You’re making me cum baby girl.” He moaned against your lips, his cock starting to empty another load inside you.

You could barely contain yourself, body shaking under his as the sound of your own juices mixed with the sound of the vibrator. “Baby….” You squeezed his hands with all your strength, his hips finally letting up a little as yours started to buck.

The vibrator slipped out and you started to grind your hips down quickly, juices leaking as you started to peak again.

“Please fuck me, my sweet boy. I need you to fuck me.”

Hongjoong let go of one of your hands to hold your hip as you arched off the bed, he slammed his cock deep in you as you released, screaming and cursing uncontrollably. His lips found yours again and you started to ride your high.

“Holy shit.” Hongjoong hissed, his own body reacting to your orgasm and joining in. He lifted you, holding you tight against his body as he slowly kissed your lips. You were barely able to hold yourself up, Hongjoong’s arms were the only thing hold you in place.

You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling dizzy and fulfilled more than ever. “Th-that was so good, my swe-sweet boy.” Your words were stuttered as you rested your head against his chest, trying to bring yourself out of the sex coma he had you in.

“Should I just carry you to the shower like this?

You nod, whining a bit as he climbed off the bed with you still attached. You wrapped your legs around him, moaning quietly at the sensation of his cock inside you, how wet and warm it felt.

“Fuck me again.” You said after finally catching your breath a bit, Hongjoong pulled back a bit, raising an eyebrow at you. “What? 3 loads in you isn’t enough?” He smirked, pecking your lips.

You giggled quietly, a shiver creeping up your spine as you felt his cock grow firm again. He pushed you against the wall, barely thrusting his hips.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” You placed a soft, but deep kiss on his lips. “I’m just starting to feel inspired.”

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez x female reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong angst #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

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bri-cheeses · 1 year ago

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The Skittles Finding Out About Rosekiller Pt. 1:

Based partially on this post by @asoldasss

It happens slowly, and maybe that’s why it takes so long for people to start to wonder. Just a brush of fingers here, a hand on the small of the back there. And Barty’s always been a touchy person, so it isn’t like random touches were too out of the ordinary for him. He did these things with all his friends, Regulus, Dorcas, Pandora, Evan, anyone and everyone he cared about. But then Regulus and Dorcas start dating other people, and he realizes that he no longer has quite the same privileges as before, and that’s okay. He understands that, so he stops being as touchy. With them, at least. And then Pandora starts dating someone seriously, too. So the same thing happens with her.

And maybe consciously, maybe subconsciously, Panda, Reg, and Cas know why Barty stopped treating them in the way he stills treats Evan, with small touches that are his way of showing that he cares. So, they don’t much wonder as Barty and Evan get much more touchier; standing extremely close to each other, sitting with their legs pressed together even though there’s plenty of space, resting their head on the other’s shoulder, you get the idea. It makes sense to them, whether consciously or not, that since Barty can no longer spread his attention evenly between his all of his friends, that he would instead lavish all of his affections upon Evan and Evan only. And of course, they reason, it makes sense that Barty and Evan would progressively grow touchier as Barty’s “temporary” break from being touchy with the three of them stretches longer and longer.

None of them think to wonder why Evan, whose love language is not and has never been physical touch, is the one to initiate the contact at least one third of the time.

As Barty and Evan start being more obvious about their relationship, the whispers around the castle start. It starts in the Slytherin common room, when Evan comes in and plops down on the couch, resting his head in Barty’s lap. Their friends, used to Barty doing this, dismiss this almost immediately. But the others, who are typically in bed when Barty engages in this behavior (usually drunk after coming back from a party to find his friends still up, because they like the common room best when it’s almost empty), raise an eyebrow at this. Is that not something that a couple would do?

The talk dies out a short while later—only to come back with vengeance when a fourth year Gryffindor sees Barty in the library, standing with his arm around Evan’s waist while they talk to Pandora about a particularly challenging potion that Slughorn is having them brew. The Gryffindor proceeds to immediately go to their friend in fifth year, telling her that “That Crouch kid and Rosier guy are dating, did you know?”

Naturally, the fifth year interrogates the fourth year to get all the details, then mentions it to her Ravenclaw friend, who mentions it to his friend while studying in the common room, and the entire Ravenclaw common room overhears. And since the Ravenclaw are such good friends with the Slytherins, they mention it to them. And it jogs the Slytherins’ memories to a few nights ago, when I told you, Susan, that sitting with your head in someone’s lap is definitely a couple-ly thing to do, why didn’t you believe me?

The gossip tree works fast in a school like Hogwarts, and the next day, people are coming up to Dorcas and Regulus and Pandora and asking them straight out if Barty and Evan are dating. And they are shocked and beyond confused because why are you asking, what even gave you that idea? Except for Pandora, who simply smiles and gives such a vague answer that it just confuses anyone who talks to her. But Dorcas and Regulus vehemently deny these rumors, because Barty’s always been a very touchy person, how have you not noticed? It’s not anything out of the ordinary.

But then a third year asks Regulus why he hasn’t been seen with Barty’s hand around his waist, and it gives Regulus a pause. And then he finally starts paying attention.

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #barty x evan #evan x barty #marauders era #slytherin skittles #marauders fandom #the slytherin skittles #regulus black #pandora rosier #dorcas meadowes #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

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pheonixkenny · 10 months ago

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How do you think other characters would react if they found out about Kenny’s immortality? I kinda go back and forth on this. I have many different ideas on how they’d react depending on how I’m feeling or information I have or w/e. I’m not sure how they would react canonically but I have some of my own ideas. (Ideas listed under the cut.)

Kyle: Given that he was the only one to give him the benefit of the doubt when Kenny mentioned it in “Coon Vs Coon and Friends.” (“Ok, let’s say you’re not crazy and it’s true.”) He would be one of the best at handling it. He does still think it’s kinda cool, but he knows better now than to tell Kenny that. He’s the one who asks him the most questions. (Like, “What’s it like to die? What’s the afterlife like? Do you think you’ll live forever?, etc.) He does feel kinda guilty for not knowing/believing him earlier, thinking he’s a bad friend. He enters big brother protection mode (previously reserved for Ike) around Kenny afterwards to try and keep him from dying so much. Kenny cycles back and forth between being flattered and annoyed about this. He also becomes determined to break Kenny’s curse, researching everything he can about the cult of cthulhu and immortality. The guy has a full on conspiracy board about this within a week.

Cartman: I know a lot of people have the theory that he already knows, it’s a solid theory that holds up logically but I don’t personally believe it because Cartman would absolutely take advantage of Kenny’s little power for his own gain. Anyone else who finds out about it tries to keep it from Cartman for this very reason.

Butters: Butters is a sweetheart so he apologizes profusely and gives Kenny a hug when he finds out. He also hugs Kenny whenever he comes back from a death and tries to comfort him, with varying degrees of success. I also feel like Butters would just believe him without any proof. Given how many of Cartman’s schemes he’s fallen for over the years I think it’s safe to say that he’s pretty gullible. He will believe pretty much anything you tell him. It’s just in this case it happens to be true.

Tweek: I saw a headcanon on here that Tweek would also believe Kenny because, thanks to the Underpants Gnomes, he knows how frustrating it is not to be believed. I love that and am stealing it. He wouldn’t exactly handle the information well though, because that is WAY too much pressure.

Craig: Craig didn’t give a shit when fucking lasers came out of his eyes so it’s safe to say he doesn’t give a shit about this either. He’ll say a sarcastic remark about it once in a while, but that’s about it.

Stan: Hoo boy, Stan. I know that I just recently wrote a fanfiction where Stan is patient and understanding about the whole thing but I changed my mind. So, in “The Cissy” when people around him start experimenting with gender for various reasons Stan gets worried and confused. He reacts similarly during the Tweek and Craig/Yaoi situation in “Tweek x Craig”. And who could forget the time when he didn’t go visit Kenny in the hospital because he couldn’t deal with the situation? (I’m making him sound like a bad kid, he’s not, he’s just sensitive and doesn’t know how to handle some things in the best way.) So now I’m thinking that when he finds out he’ll have another Stan Marsh Existential Crisis (patent pending) and just kinda avoid Kenny for a while. That’s not a good way to handle it but he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know what to say to the guy. It feels like everything has changed between them. Kyle has to intervene and goes up to Stan like “dude, quit being an idiot and go talk to Kenny. He thinks you hate him now.” (Because I can’t imagine a world where Stan knows and Kyle doesn’t or vice versa.) And he feels bad because he never meant to give him that impression. He still likes him just as much as before, he just needed some time to process everything. So he takes Kyle’s advice and they talk things out. Kenny understands how the information can be a shock and Stan promises not to withdraw like that again when his friends need him. Eventually he gets used to it and it just becomes another quirk that one of his friends has. (Thinking of writing a fic about this scenario but, like I said, I already wrote a fic focusing on Stan and Kenny’s relationship. I should probably use one of my Kyle and Kenny fic ideas first.)

#this gets long and rambly I apologize #south park #kenny mccormick #immortal Kenny #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #eric cartman #butters stotch #tweek tweak #craig tucker

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bistaxx · 1 year ago

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Anyway, Jinx random wartime q!hgduo spitball ramblings/ headcanons/ off-the-cuff analysis ig cuz I like thinking about them ^_^

I think they didn't meet at the start of the games but maybe a few months to a year or two in- I'd say either when Cellbit is about 15 or close to being 15.

By that time both Bad and the currently nameless teenager both had some sort of reputation as dangerous, ruthless, and maybe even downright cruel killers on the battlefield. One way or another they ended up becoming partners much to the horror of everyone else.

For Cellbit he'd recognize that sticking by Bad increased his chances of survival by a LOT and this dude doesn't even get mad when he takes bites out of him which is great.

For Bad I feel like he could've gone through the games alone with not much trouble but staying solo gets stale and lonely after while- he'd have teamed up with other players in the past but they all either died or left him eventually- he thinks it's gonna be no different with Cellbit but is pleasantly surprised when he's proven wrong.

And boy was that a good thing, because Bad has a bad habit of getting attached! He fed this stray cat a few times and now it's following after him and Bad doesn't have the heart to shoo the poor beast away!

Although Bad has much more experience and is vastly older he respects how much fighting skill his teenage partner has- he can hold his own on the battlefield- which is why he doesn't view him as his 'child' or a dependent but somewhere in-between an equal and a protege. Cellbit deferred to his leadership during fights, but theirs still a mutual respect between them.

Later on their bond would end up in a sort of vague area in the middle of a triangle between mentor & protege, equals, and something dangerously close to familial.

I find it hard to doubt that there were times when Bad would be shockingly reminded that his partner is in fact still a child... and perhaps times where Cellbit would find himself relying on Bad the ways a child would their parent or older sibling... Maybe at some point letting his funny little friend eat his flesh or spending resources healing him became less about keeping him healthy for the next battle and more about keeping him alive just a little bit longer- Maybe sticking by this powerful ally became less about pragmatism and more about companionship.

That said, as far as Cellbit's concerned he never had a family, as far as Bad's concerned his children are Dapper and Pomme... Cellbit's all grown-up now and so much time has passed that they see one another as something more akin to just 'old friends' who know what the other is capable of and thus know better then to underestimate each other... but I feel as they spend more time with each other again the echoes of the dynamic they once had become more tangible- especially given the major toll of the eggs being missing. Cellbit knows he can turn to Bad if he needs him and Bad will look out for Cellbit when he can even as he is (quite ltierally) falling apart.

Maybe sometimes even now he still can't help but see that nameless kid when he looks at Cellbit.

I honestly don't think Bad regrets the way he guided Cellbit during the war- nor do I believe that Cellbit harbors any resentment over Bad's influence in his life- even if it's left him with the same sort of fucked morals his former guardian has, his terrible self-sacrificial tendencies, and who knows what else. The reality of their situation during the games could never allow for softer forms of kindness- there was no time for them to be a 'family' and no time to think about what happens 'next' after this is all over. Bad couldn't teach Cellbit how to live, but he could teach him how to survive.

I haven't really settled on what I think happened at the end of the 'war' when they part ways... but sometimes I do think about how in the actual video Cellbit dies at the very end and man that can be interpreted in a lot of interesting ways- like obviously in qsmp canon Cellbit survives the war but it's still fun to take that into consideration!

Anyway, you know those images of predator animals with blood covered on their faces after eating a tasty meal- yeah that's them during the hunger games to me LOL

... Also does anyone else find it really funny that Foolish's adopted son and Badboyhalo's protege ended up getting married like- something about that is just really funny to me... Also I'm surprised no one has done anything about how the dude taken in by a totem of undying found love with the guy who was guided by a grim reaper like- I feel like there's some cool potential there!

Ty for reading all of that- or skimming it that's cool too! I just wanna say despite liking q!Bad and q!Cellbit a lot I do NOT consider myself to be super knowledgeable about them as characters, I just have a major soft spot for dynamics like theirs and wanted to ramble LOL so um yeah:

#long post #qsmp #hgduo #gossipduo #badboyhalo #cellbit #jinx ramblings #i feel nervous making this post but I've been wanting to post about my takes on their dynamic for awhile now lol

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hekate1308 · 11 days ago

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There Was Winter’s Cold A Destiel Advent Calendar December 17

Masterpost

Now, he would say this – it was something to see Crowley introduce himself to Cas. “Well well well look at you. Blue eyes, stubble… not exactly the mermaid one would expect.” He glanced at Dean because of course he knew his type as well as Dean himself.

“Hello” Cas said as friendly as he always did. “Dean says you are a good person, just don’t always show it. I am very thankful you are trying to find a way to return me home.”

This had the very much unknown effect of reducing Crowley to a stuttering mess, because – so far Dean was the only one who had discovered his secret, which was that he could counter any attack, throw any barbed comment right back in the other guy’s face, ignore any bestowed on him. But actually compliment him? Watch him transform into a stuttering mess within seconds.

Dean had discovered that when he had thanked him after a rather adventurous night out, the details of which he would only ever repeat under duress.

“Yes – I – “ Crowley cleared his throat. “I – I am happy that – anyway – Squirrel?”

He decided to put him out of his misery. “So what have you found, then?”

“We’re in – “ he glanced at Dean and then Cas and apparently decided to not use his usual metaphors and innuendos when talking to him which Deanb was rather grateful for because Crowley could be – well – he could be – Crowley. Dean might have been the one person who had no problems with that, but when it came to Cas… yeah, probably for the best, all in all.

“The point is, there is a way that Cassie here could return to the waves, but it will take a bit of a… well… you do know your fairytales, don’t you?”

Cas might not, but Dean did. “So he has to pass some form of test?”

“that’s one way of putting it” he said. “The usual stuff as far as I am aware… riddles, that sort of thing.”

He nodded. “Three?” He might be a mechanic with a house and friends, these days, but once upon a time, he had been a kid trying desperately to entertain his little brother with stories and fairytales and whatnot, and he knew the basics.

“Of course.”

“Thank you” Cas said again. “I can see why Dean thinks of you as one of his best friends.”

Dean had not told him such, but it was certainly true.

And it was worth it just to see Crowley transform into a spluttering mess again and disappearing as quickly as he could after passing him a paper where he had written down all that was necessary.

How to return to your true home

Well, that sounded promising enough – exactly what they anted or needed. If they hot lucky, they could have Cas back in the river in a few days time, maybe even faster…

Dean pretended his heart didn’t falter at the thought. He could feel sorry for himself later, especially when he had to explain to Ellen and Bobby why the boyfriend they had liked so much had done a disappearing act on him (Not that that would be anything new. None of his – let them call it relationships just for the sake of the argument – had ever lasted long, and probably wouldn’t for quite some time to come, not if he was going to be looking for eyes just the right shade of blue…)

No no no, this wouldn’t do. He had to focus on the here and now, on what was to be done.

Back to the paper, then.

Hm. From what Dean could tell, it really was nothing too difficult – fetch water on which the moon was shining. That, alright, they just had to go to the river at night and get some – well, Cas had to get some but Dean would accompany him, naturally he would.

Then the next one. Bring something from the place you call home. Alright, they would have to work through that. He did not really know what that meant because they we trying to return Cas home, but on the other hand… their tap water came from the river, didn’t it? There was a reason they were not supposed to drink it. So that should be –

But then the last one.

Be honest about your heart’s desire.

Well, what was that supposed to mean? But he supposed they would cross that bridge when they came to it, and now that he thought about it – could there be any stronger desire in Cas then to get home? Dean knew what it was like not having one, so he was more than ready to bet it was all he thought about…

“I think we can do it, Cas” he then announced, passing him the paper.

He even managed to smile as he did so.

#spn #my writings #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #advent calendar

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months ago

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headcanons of Dean with a daughter?

This thought is vague, it occurred to me while I was sleeping.

Season 10: Dean as a demon is wandering with Crowley, one day Crowley tells the demon Dean that he has something to teach him, he has two people he wants Dean to meet. Dean is baffled, Sam and Cas are with the bunker. Who is Crowley talking about? Upon arriving at the indicated place, he sees a teenage girl of about 17 years old and also Ben. Who is that girl, what is she doing with Ben and how did they get there?

1)The girl is very similar to Cassie, the girl he fell in love with in season one, Crowley explains to Dean that when he saw Cassie again she did not tell him that they had a daughter together, Cassie did not want her daughter growing up with a hunter father and Cassie didn't want to drop the "you have a daughter" bomb on Dean, Cassie knew Dean had to leave, but the moment Dean left town, Azazel arrived, killed everyone (including Cassie) and Azazel kidnapped Dean's daughter so they could use her against Dean, but before even doing so Dean shoots Azazel in the cemetery (Den didn't find out about his daughter) so Dean's daughter was just left with the demons who was taking care of her while she was kidnapped, somehow the girl escaped from the demons and having no one, she jumped from orphanage to orphanage while getting involved in the life of the hunters.

2) Ben: After Cas wiped his memory, Lisa and Ben lived a normal life, until an evil angel (all while Dean is in purgatory), probably Naomi, kills Lisa and Ben's entire family and Naomi kidnaps to Ben, she gives Ben back the memories that Cas took from him and she wants to manipulate him to have something to blackmail Dean with, while Ben is kidnapped, Naomi brings him a hunter as a cellmate, Dean and Cassie's daughter, (Cas and Dean's daughter is 14 and Ben is 13) she is now a teenager/hunter quite angry with life because of what happened to her family. (Dean is Ben's biological father) Dean and Cassie's daughter works with her half-brother Ben to escape and they form this sibling bond. When they manage to escape from the angels, Ben has nowhere to go, his entire family is dead, so he begins hunting together with his half-sister, both agreeing that they do not want any relationship with their father, Dean Winchester.

3)In season 10 the girl is 17 years old, and Ben is 16, and both (again) are kidnapped by demons where they are taken to Demon!Dean. Crowley explains to Demon!Dean who they are (Crowley's plan was to use them for fun or as blackmail) but Dean, since he's a demon, is like "kill them both, I don't care." Ben and his sister are experts at escaping kidnappings and have really gotten good at hunting despite their young age, so they manage to escape. Dean becomes human and the first thing he does is tell Sam and Cas that he has two children but they probably hate him, Dean, Cas and Sam go out to find Dean's children

Well other than being super depressing (I love Lisa lol) this headcannon is so cool!

-Dean would be relentless searching for them after he was cured.

-it would take a while for them to warm up to him, but I think he would try to get closer to them by enlisting their help (he sees what good hunters they are, and he doesn’t want to put them in danger but he knows they’ll be hunting either way, so at least this way he can try to protect them)

-after working together for a while, the kids get really close to Dean and Sam and Cas.

-Dean tried to keep them on smaller hunts as much as he can in season 11, because The Darkness is just way too scary for him to think about his children fighting.

-they despise the men of letters in season 12, which makes Dean super proud.

-They ignore Mary so hard in season 12, because they see how much she’s avoiding Sam and Dean (Sam and Dean are smart, but they were too emotionally invested in their mother to realize what a jerk she was, but Dean’s kids are distant enough to see it)

-the kids LOVE Jack, and it freaks Dean out so much. Ben teaches Jack about cars (just like Dean taught him), and Dean’s daughter watches Star Wars with Jack.

-Dean always goes on hunts with his kids, because he hates the thought of not being their for them if something happened.

-Dean is actually so happy to see his two kids have such a strong sibling bond even if they don’t have the same mom.

#the winchesters #dean winchester #dean and sam #supernatural dean #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x daughter #sam winchester x niece!reader #sam winchester x niece

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loosethreadsofyoursoul · 7 months ago

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it’s never too late by steppenwolf (aka the song from the end of 13x5) is thee dean winchester song. let me elaborate.

(i haven’t seen any posts about this so if there are any i would love to know about it bc i am passionate about this.)

firstly, i could pick that entire scene apart with how it relates to dean and what he’s going through as well as all the symbolism—the mother losing her child, billie in death’s library, the shots of the impala, the neon signs in shot when they finally drive up to cas—but honestly i would never run out of things to say about it.

the overarching themes of both that scene and this song are regret and guilt and wishing you could go back and do things, treat people, differently, and so putting them together in that way is perfect. more specifically, the song is about a man who had all these ambitions, mostly because of pressure from his parents, but finds himself grown up having achieved none of them and because of that, it starts to affect the people around him. sound familiar?

especially right now, dean is suffering so much loss, and (somewhat inadvertently) is taking it out on sam and jack, both his kids in a way (on your woman and your child / you release your bitterness). all he wants is his family back (i.e. mary and cas) but since there’s nothing he can do to go back and fix what took them away from him, he has a lot of trouble seeing the point in going on.

although you’re trained to make your mark / you still don’t quite know what to do

yeah. he’s lived like that for a while, but he’s especially feeling it now. his reaction to billie telling him he still has work to do was not exactly enthusiastic.

as he says to sam in this ep, he’s taken every previous loss in stride and just kept going, kept working, and (in some ways) kept starting over despite it all. but he might not be able to do it anymore. we’re seeing him at his lowest, all he wants is to die, but he’s finally let sam in, even if neither of them are sure where to go from here. and what happens next? his phone rings, and his best friend is on the other end.

we all know there’s a stark difference in dean from one episode to the next (13x6 is tombstone), and why is that? dean got the win he needed. he got cas back, and he’s no longer just watching time slip by until his death. a reason to live just walked back into his life. he’s learning that, maybe, it really is never too late.

this happens a lot for dean, specifically with losing cas, where it feels like he’s finally lost for good this time, but he’s always managed to get cas back or to find some way to keep going.

another line i find very fitting for dean is in the second verse:

the god of your childhood you can’t find / to save you from your emptiness

obviously, this could be about chuck and how unreliable he is, especially when dean (and sam) needs him most, which we saw most recently at the end of 13x1. (“the god of your childhood” could also be the samulet, but thats a different discussion.)

again, there’s a lot of lines that i think reflect dean’s character and everything he’s been through really well, but rather than enduring the essay i could write about it, go (re)listen and you’ll see what i mean. it’s just so beautifully fitting, especially given it’s 60s/70s rock which i think dean would appreciate.

that ending scene of dean and cas seeing each other again, particularly with that song in the background, is one i think about a lot and, to me, is criminally underrated in terms of destiel moments. it’s one of my favs and it makes me cry like a baby.

so yes, it’s never too late by steppenwolf is THEE dean winchester song and i hope you agree. it’s also just an excellent song tbh go listen to it and cry with me xx

#this song is so personal to me #dean is also so personal to me #that’s my bbg #yes i’m a dean girl who asked that #john winchester can choke challenge #thought i’d throw that in there #it’s never too late #steppenwolf #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #Spotify #em saying things

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hb-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Mirrors

Summary: It’s 1922 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. John was used to Clara preferring Tommy, but there was a space between Clara and their brother now that Grace had returned. John wondered if it was the big, drafty halls out in Warwickshire setting a coldness into their interactions. He didn’t know for sure, but he did know that there was more space between Clara and Tommy now than there had ever been on Watery Lane. There seemed to be very little space between his sister and his wife though, something that bothered John more than he cared to admit, the conspiratorial dynamic mirroring what had once existed between Tommy and Clara.

Request (from @cas-kingdom): “What do you need?” “You.” would be totally adorable for John & Clara. Congrats on 4 years of LLB!!

(Note: this is the second story based on the same prompt because both ideas bit me and I couldn’t let go.)

Characters: John Shelby, Esme Shelby, Elias Shelby, and Clara Shelby

Content Warnings: nothing much, I think.

Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

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—

John allowed a good natured roll of his eyes as the front door eased open. The damn thing had creaked from the very day he and Martha moved in. John could’ve fixed it easily, but after all this time, he decided he liked the familiarity of it. He didn’t mind his brothers joking that John did not lock his doors because the creaking was so loud it would alert him of any intruders. It reminded him of Martha and it did serve as a sort of warning, especially in the quiet of an emptied out house.

As he heard the sound now, John wondered which of the kids would be coming back through to intrude on his peace. One of them must’ve forgotten something—that wasn’t a surprise. A favorite toy, a hat, a shoe…John wouldn’t be surprised whatever it was. Especially if it was Katie. John was quite certain that little girl would lose her head if it wasn’t properly attached.

She mirrored her Uncle Finn in that way—a little scattered, always on the bloody move. John thought he could see a bit of his brothers and sisters and himself reflected in each of the kids and some days, on coming home to the raucous bunch, he was reminded of his childhood in the best and the worst of ways. And even though John was their father, he felt almost as if he simply melted into their dynamic. Some days, it was a relief to lose himself in his children—to pass a few hours being silly and carefree. But other evenings, it was too much to come home to the familiar attitudes and behaviors, little copies of the trying family members he’d spent all day dealing with.

Days like that—days like today—Esme took them all out of the house to give John time to decompress after arriving home for the shop. Like a premonition, Esme always seemed to know, even without John realizing he needed it.

But he did need it.

Some days depending on what he was tasked with, John just needed a moment to come back to himself before being with the kids, to let all the other stuff fall away, to be reminded that the family dynamics he’d grown up with didn’t have to be the same ones he raised his kids with. That the traits his kids had gotten from the rest of the Shelbys were just that—traits. His frustrations with his brothers and his aunts had no need of being taken out on his kids...on his wife.

John knew it, but he wasn’t always aware of it creeping in. Esme always seemed to sense it better than he did. She knew when her husband needed to get himself straight. She never called attention to it though, always able to make up some perfectly reasonable excuse for why all of the children needed to come with her and leave the house empty for a bit even if it was just before dinner time. Even if it was not remotely convenient for her or the kids.

And there was something about Esme’s way that those kids, the ones who always had a million protests and questions…they never questioned it when she announced they were going out. They didn’t back talk to her the way they might to John. It was like she held some sort of magic over them all. John thought sometimes maybe she did.

Esme Shelby Lee certainly had him in a thrall, anyway.

They’d only be gone for half an hour, but that would be time enough. John took a sip of his drink, still sitting in his chair at the kitchen table as he waited for whoever it was to come back through. Sarah, he hoped. John figured he could handle his oldest daughter for just a few minutes.

Yes, he decided. He far preferred it to be Sarah coming through the door. He couldn’t handle any of the other children just now—not Katie, who was a bit like Finn, or Joey, who was somehow both a bit of Tommy and a bit of Arthur at the same time, and certainly not Robbie, who was too much like John. Thankfully, the baby wasn’t like much of anyone yet, not discernibly anyway, but he knew his infant wouldn’t be crawling through the door.

John took another sip of his drink as careful footsteps sounded in the front room. He knew it wasn’t just the time alone but also the glass of whiskey that eased the day’s tensions. Somewhere along the line, he’d convinced himself it helped. He’d convinced himself he needed it.

John called out before the kitchen door swung open. “What do you need—”

He started as his sister came through the door, still in her school uniform, looking like she’d run the whole way there from the other side of Birmingham. “Oh—Clara. Uh…Esme’s out with the—”

Clara shook her head. “No,” she choked out, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the bag of school books fell to the floor. Her eyes were rimmed red with tears and John realized she wasn’t just out of breath from running here.

“Alright,” John shifted in his chair. “What do you—?”

“You. John, I—” The words came out hard, like whatever she intended to say really was a need and not a want. As Clara’s voice devolved into a sob, she became incoherent to her brother, whatever else she had been about to tell him lost in the tears and uncontrollable breathing. John had not a single clue as to what it might have been his sister needed, what she was trying to tell him. It usually frustrated him a bit, having to guess at whatever Clara wasn’t saying and lately, Esme had been taking over where Clara was concerned. Esme understood her better. He figured it was a female thing.

He’d grown used to his sister showing up unannounced or inviting herself over for dinner or for a long weekend. Most of the time, she was looking for Esme, but she’d been spending more time with them in general—with him, and Esme, and the kids. Clara and Esme had formed a certain bond though, a bit of a conspiratorial relationship that John didn’t wholly understand or particularly enjoy. There were secrets between his wife and his sister that he wasn’t comfortable with them having though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the details. Esme often informed him that what she and Clara talked about wasn’t any of his business, anyway.

John let it be. He tried for acceptance, but he would’ve been lying if he said it didn’t bother him just a bit—the conspiratorial dynamic mirroring what had once existed between Tommy and Clara and making him a little jealous that his sister seemed to be closer with his wife than him these days.

John was used to Clara preferring Tommy, but there was a space between Clara and their brother now that Grace had returned. John wondered if it was the big, drafty halls out in Warwickshire setting a coldness into their interactions. He didn’t know for sure, but there was more space between Clara and Tommy now than there had ever been on Watery Lane.

And it still hadn’t seemed enough for Clara. She filled her time with finding excuses to be away from Arrow House, passing her weekends with John and Esme when she could manage it, but John wasn’t expecting her at his place now—not for a few hours, at least.

She should’ve been across the city in a classroom still. Or maybe, she should’ve been just about to head over to the office down on Jamaica Row. Someone was probably waiting on her at the school.

A Blinder.

The high and mighty King Thomas, himself, maybe.

It didn’t quite matter who was waiting on Clara though because she was here, in John’s kitchen, sputtering on the other side of the room. Whatever tension that had been clinging to John, the tension that had had Esme taking the kids out within a minute of him passing over the threshold eased. John’s mind stopped working to figure his sister out, to make sense of her sudden presence, deciding it didn’t quite matter. He stood up and crossed the kitchen to pull Clara against his chest.

Clara held her brother tight, immediately shifting so her arms were clinging onto him.

“Alright. It’s alright,” John soothed. Part of him wished she’d loosen her hold on him just a bit, but he didn’t moan or try to shift her any, letting her take what she needed for as long as she wanted.

John eased his hold when Clara started to pull away, lifting her arm to wipe at her face while she leaned her head against his chest.

“Does Tommy know—?”

“I don’t care,” she mumbled. “Tommy can fuck off.”

John snorted. “Don’t want to get on your bad side, eh?”

Clara pushed away from John and shoved her elbow into his side.

“Oi! Knock it off!” he huffed, pulling Clara back to his chest and settling her in a gentle headlock. “Thought you wanted me.”

Clara sighed. She tugged his arm down and settled against him once again. “I do.”

“Be nice then,” John mumbled. He placed a kiss on Clara’s head.

Clara took a deep breath, her eyes trained on the floor as she scuffed her feet against the well-worn hardwood. “I want to come home.”

John settled his hand on his sister's head. “You are home, Clara.”

His house was as good as hers, the way he saw it. She certainly spent enough time there.

“No, John.” Clara shook her head against him. “I want to be back for good. Back on Watery Lane.”

John hummed, but the sound was neutral—more of an acknowledgement than anything else. They both knew it wasn’t up to them, either one of them. Tommy said where Clara went. He said where she rested her head and where she learned her sums and where she was employed. The arrangement wasn’t documented or official, but it was good as law as far as they were all concerned. For years and years, it had been that way.

“What’s brought this on?” He asked.

“I just want to be here,” Clara answered. “I can help with the kids and—”

“There’ll be a kid at Arrow House you can help with soon enough,” John said.

Clara shook her head. She’d already decided that Tommy and Grace would have no need of her help. They had already hired a full staff for the house, nanny and all. They’d have Mary look after Charles. And Clara was quite certain that Mary didn’t like her.

“Tommy doesn’t need me,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “He doesn’t want me…said he doesn’t need me at the office anymore. Doesn’t want me in the business anymore.”

“He said all that?”

Clara pretended to sift through her mind for Tommy’s exact words, though she remembered them very clearly. He’d been so short in his explanations, his decree that she was done working for now, but it hadn’t felt to Clara like Tommy’s heart was in it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Clara said. “She’s put him up to it…she thinks I need to be focused on my schooling….but I can do both. If he doesn’t need me downtown, I can work in the shop instead, can’t I? You could use me and I can stay here and help with the kids and—“

“Of course I could use you,” John said, knowing his sister was better with math than most of the other buffoons in the shop and that Esme would probably relish in having his sister to lend a hand with the kids, “but if Tommy says—“

“I don’t care what Tommy says. He’s not—“

“In charge of us?” John suggested, cutting her off. “I’m surprised he’s not here already to collect you and give us both a telling off.”

Clara deflated a bit. “Can’t you just tell him I’m staying with you? Just tell him you and Esme need me to sit with the kids tonight?”

“Yeah, and are you actually going to sit with them?” he asked.

“I can…if you want,” she said, the volume of her voice lowering as she continued. “But maybe you and Esme want to stay in? I’m sure the kids would like it.”

John hummed. “Yeah, the kids would like it, sure.”

It wasn’t as if Clara’s words were untrue. John knew his kids would love a night in with their parents and aunt as Clara suggested, but there was more to it than that. It was Clara who wanted her brother close. It was Clara who wanted a night on Watery Lane, insulated from the rest of her world by her brother and sister-in-law and nieces and nephews.

“Can you talk to him?”

John sighed, nodding despite himself. “But if he wants you home, I’m not fighting him. It’s not worth it, alright? If he puts up a fight, you go on for the weekend and you can come to us next week as planned.”

Clara nodded, “And working in the shop?”

Clara let the question linger, cutting

“If you sort things with Tommy…” Clara cut into her brother’s thoughts as she heard the front door creak open, hoping it wasn’t Tommy coming to find her. “I’ll sort our dinner tonight…”

Esme came into the kitchen with all five children in tow. She plopped the baby in John’s arms and handed the bag of groceries to Clara before lowering herself into the chair and running her hands over her swollen belly.

“If your sister’s offering to cook me dinner, you do whatever she wants, John.”

John had no desire to get between his brother and his sister. He had enough disagreements racked up with Tommy without counting Clara’s concerns, but John could tell she needed it. She needed to feel someone was on her side, hearing her, listening to her. He knew what it was to feel like no one was listening. And he wasn’t sure Tommy would listen to him, but Polly might. He figured she might be willing to talk to Tommy. And Tommy might be willing to listen if it was Polly’s voice he was hearing.

And now that Esme was involved, it didn’t seem he had much of a choice in the matter anyway.

“Your mother’s said her piece. I guess we’d best go make a few phone calls for your auntie, eh, Eli?” The baby in his lap lifted a chubby hand and smacked it against John’s cheek. He went back for a second and third hit, laughter spilling from his little mouth, seemingly trying to move his father along.

“Alright, mate. Hold on,” John said, standing himself and the baby up and heading toward the telephone.

John paused just over the threshold. He could hear his wife and sister talking, Esme’s voice followed by Clara’s laughter.

Elias patted John’s face again, pulling his attention back to the task at hand.

“I’m going, I’m going,” John said as he continued away from the kitchen.

It would usually have set John a bit on edge, hearing his sister and wife start talking and laughing as soon as he was out of the room, but just now it eased something in John knowing he wasn’t alone in all of this. It was a comfort knowing that his wife knew not just what he needed, but what his kids needed, and his sister, too.

As John lifted the handset, waiting for the operator to connect, Elias cuddled into his father’s chest. John knew the boy had inherited his looks from the Shelby side, but as another bit of tension inside of him melted away at the baby's touch, John thought maybe the boy's intuitive, kind heart might mirror that of his mother.

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#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby fanfic #john shelby #esme lee #esme shelby #shelby sister #shelby!sister #little lady blinder #clara shelby #elias shelby #raise a glass to llb

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