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kamisobsessed · 9 days ago

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i love tim bradford so much

Hiii! If its not much trouble could I request a tim Bradford and reader fic where she's really shy and sensitive, but still diligent at work and his rookie? He usually had a soft spot for her bcs he has a crush on her but she messes up a case and gets yell at by him?? Calls her a crybaby and all?? But later he comforts her and confesses? Maybe she thinks he likes lucy up until that point?? Just a lot of angst filled with pining and fluff! Thanks sm and I love your workk💕

Headrush

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language! (Shut up, Steve), fluff, hurt, angst

Word count: 2.523

Authors note: Oh my god, it's been so long, I'm so sorry! Thank you a lot for your request! I really liked the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it.

Lots of love! ❤️

Please, as always

Enjoy!

"Shit, shit, shit!" you cursed under your breath, biting your lip as your fingers anxiously fiddled with the belt on your hips.

This was not how this case was supposed to go.

Not at all.

It was like a damn domino effect - one thing went down the hill, and so did the rest one after another.

A whole fucking shitshow.

That your suspect was lying dead on the street was just the cherry on top.

He had tried to run from you, not watching where he went. You tried to warn him, yelled that he should watch out, when a car hit him, and sent him flying over the street.

Tim stood beside you, eyes wide and mouth agape, not really believing what he saw. He wasn't sure whether to yell at you, comfort you, or just get back in the car.

He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists. He usually was softer with you, than he was with other rookies he had.

You just didn't know that he harbored feelings for you that went far beyond being your TO.

A conflicting thing, really.

"You-" he started, cutting himself off, eyes flying over the scene. The dead man on the floor, the shocked civilians all around you.

The poor woman that drove the car that hit the man.

The ambulance covered the man with a sheet, calling the coroner.

That was what snapped him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim spoke up, rasing his voice as he looked down at you. "What the hell did you think?" You flinched at his tone, some of your usual shyness and sensitivity shining through.

Tim bit his cheek, so hard he almost drew blood.

He felt bad, sorry even.

To yell at you was one of the things he wanted the least, but he had no other choice if he wanted you to be successful.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Sir, I-" you wanted to defend yourself, but he didn't let you. Once he was in that stage of rage, it was hard to see an escape through the fog.

"No, of course you did not!" he went on, the look on his face both terrifying and breaking you.

To ever think you'd stand a chance with the man yelling down at you seemed like the stupidest thing in the world suddenly.

"How could you let him get this far?" he continued to rage, seemingly not caring about the people around you that started to watch the commotion. "You should have stopped him!"

You swallowed, a bitter pill you'd forced upon yourself by letting the suspect get this far. That you'd fallen pretty badly along the way, most likely spraining your ankle, wasn't important anymore.

Who knew if he'd even seen it?

"I- I'm sorry." you breathed out, doing your best not to lose your face in front of him. The day had started bad, and it got worse the longer it went on. "I shouldn't have let him get this far."

Tim scoffed, hands fisting his belt as he looked around you. "I shouldn't have let you handle this on your own." he spoke, voice a mix of regret and spite. "I should have known better."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew you were ready, and damn he knew it, too. Mistakes were normal, no matter how long you were doing the job already. But with your last week as a rookie rolling around, he pushed you more and more beyond your limits.

You felt tears burn in your eyes, the ugly tugging sensation in your jaw when you tried your very best to hold them back.

But Tim had already seen them.

His head tilted in disbelief, eyes widening before they narrowed.

Not a good sign.

"Are you gonna cry?" he asked, voice full of disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What are you? A fucking crybaby?"

Told you so.

You cleared your throat, cheeks burning in shame.

"No, no, of course not." you mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Tim tilted his head more, sending you a look that told you to repeat yourself. "No, I'm not crying." you repeated louder, looking up at him.

To say his behavior hurt was an understatement.

"Get in the car." he hissed, motioning at the shop. You nodded, doing as he told you without protesting.

It wouldn't have done you any good, anyway.

Moral of the story suddenly played in your head, and you couldn't help but think how right Ashe was, as you climbed into the passengers seat.

You had learned a lot about Tim the last year, yet he surprised you with how cold and harsh he was right now.

You should have never let your stupid crush get out of hand like this. Maybe to be hurt like this, to be talked down by him like that - maybe that was your moral of the story.

Like they said: Never fuck the company.

Not that you and Tim had gotten physically close somehow, but that didn't stop your mind from imagining sometimes.

You just were glad you experienced him like this before anything could have happened.

Not that you had much faith in that, anyway.

____

You let out a sigh, as you finally made your way out of the station.

It had been a long day, maybe the longest of your life. After driving back you had to wait before being questioned about the incident. It went on for nearly two hours, in which they decided you weren't responsible for the suspects death.

Yes, he had run from you, but it was his own decision, and you had tried to warn him.

You body-cam proofed it.

You hadn't seen Tim since you'd gotten out of the shop, silently thankful for it.

You didn't know if you'd been able to endure another round of his scolding today without actually breaking down.

Seeing Lucy though, only pressed on your sore nerves more. Yes, you liked her as a friend, but the thought that Tim seemed head over heels for her warred with that.

Only a fool wouldn't see.

The cold night air hit your skin, effectively cooling it down and clearing your head a little. You hoped to get home and fall in bed, only waking up again when you would have forgotten this day.

But someone seemed to have other plans.

"Y/N, wait!" he called out after you, and you only then noticed that his car was still in the almost empty parking lot.

You debated whether to ignore him, act like you didn't hear, but your consciousness said otherwise. You turned around as he stopped in front of you, silently cursing yourself for being such a good person.

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, lips parted, like he didn't expect you to actually wait. "Listen," he then started, brows furrowing slightly as his gaze drifted away for a brief second. "I didn't mean to be so harsh on you back there."

You frowned, blinking a few times in confusion. Was he a-

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say, now at a loss for words yourself. "I- i'ts okay." you then said after finding your voice, biting your cheek. "You lectured me, and it's not like it wasn't justified, sir."

He gritted his teeth, you could see even in the dim streetlight.

"No, that was too harsh." he gave back, shaking his head, frown deepened. "It wasn't your fault he was hit by the car. You tried to warn him and he didn't listen."

You pushed your bottom lip forward, not sure where his sudden change in mood came from. "Look, sir-" you started, but he cut you off. "Stop that." he demanded, the frown on his face bordering on angry now.

Your lips parted in confusion, not sure what you did wrong now.

"Stop calling me sir." he said. "We both know that's needless. It's not like- I mean, you're one week away from becoming a p2. We both know you'll make it with flying colors. Call me Tim."

He was selfish, he knew it.

But if it meant he'd hear his name from your mouth even once, he'd do anything. He didn't know yet if you'd choose to stay after graduation, and he'd have to take what he got.

He was in way too deep.

You swallowed before you nodded, gaze meeting the ground. Your teeth maltreated your cheek, not sure how to react.

"I've never- I've never seen a dead person like this before." you suddenly spoke, looking back up at him. "I didn't know where my head was, and you yelled at me. I was overwhelmed."

It just bubbled out of you. Maybe the dim lighting made you bolder.

"That's not me." you continued, shaking your head. "I- I'm tidily, I always make sure to give my best, it just-" Without you noticing, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you gasped for air.

Tim's own eyes widened, as he realized you were about to panic.

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you.

It was pure instinct, every nerve in him telling him to hug you, to comfort you.

To not make him see you cry.

He couldn't.

"It's okay." he spoke softly, as your fingers fisted the material of his jacket. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

You couldn't help the tears from flowing, not when he held you like this, doing his best to make you feel better.

"I should have known." you sobbed, pushing the shame for crying onto his jacket aside for now. "I wasn't ready."

He shooed you, one hand carding through your hair.

He knew if someone saw you two, this would have ended badly.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You are ready." he gave back. "More than ready. I've seen you out there, you always have yourself under control. You're diligent, something that not every rookie is. You may be shy, and maybe a bit sensitive, but that's something good. You know how to talk to people, you understand them. And I know this wasn't your fault. You did your absolute best, and that's exactly what I told them back there."

You swallowed, cheeks heating up at his words.

You didn't expect him to be so open and soft with you.

"You- you really think that?" you asked, sniffing as the tears slowly subsided. He chuckled softly. "God, you have no clue." he mumbled, gaze flitting over the dark parking lot.

You frowned, not sure what he meant. But before you could have asked, he continued on his own.

"I'm not good at this emotional stuff." he said with a huff. "But you are. And I'm grateful for it, I really am, because I learned to get better at it, because of you. And I'm supposed to be the TO here, not you."

You chuckled, not having expected him to learn something from you whilst training you.

"You should talk to Lucy, then." you suggested, the thought jabbing at your heart. But if he wanted her, he'd be prepared for the emotional talk now, then.

Tim frowned, looking down at you with confusion. He gently pushed you away enough to look in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know, trying to make out what you were telling him. Your cheeks heated up, but you knew there was no turning back now.

Might as well reap what you've sown by digging into his personal life.

"I mean that you can tell her how you feel if you're better at emotional stuff now." you explained, doing your best to look encouraging. He scoffed a laugh, nose crinkling slightly. "Wait, you think I-" he started, but cut himself off with another laugh.

You frowned, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Yes, I mean-" you wanted to explain yourself, but he cut you off, hands on your arms as he leaned a bit down to look into your eyes. "No." he said firmly, a grin on his lips. "I'm not in love with Lucy."

The thought almost seemed absurd to him.

Why would he want Lucy when you were here, standing right in front of him?

Your frown deepened, thoughts running a million miles a minute. "Wait, you're not?" you asked, voice carrying a hint of disbelief and maybe relief. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "No." he confirmed. "I'm not."

Silence hung between you like a heavy fog, only broken by a huff leaving your lips. "Well, I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I am." you mumbled, biting your cheek.

He shrugged as if to say I noticed. "If you were you would have known I don't want Lucy." he said, empathizing her name.

You cocked a brow, looking up at him again. "What do you mean?"

He sent you a smile that sent your heart into a frenzy, and for a moment, you thought you'd have a headrush. "I mean," he began, eyes wandering over your face. "That I can't wait for you to be a p2."

You felt dumb.

"Tim-" you started, but cut yourself off, as realization suddenly hit you like a freight train. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled, a sound that seared its way into your brain the first time you'd heard it. "Yes." he confirmed. "I don't want Lucy, because I already want you, Y/N."

It felt like the night sky had decided to let all it's lucky stars rain down on you at once.

A mix of emotions rushed through you, and you felt like you'd actually have a headrush.

"What- How?" you stammered, words escaping your brain. "I- I mean, why me? Why not her?"

Tim cocked a brow at your words. He knew you'd say something like that, a clear sign of how well he knew you by now. "Because you're you." he said. "Because you care. You're smart, funny, cute. You are a good cop, and I couldn't ask for more in a person than you already are. I don't want Lucy, because I'm not interested in her the way that I'm interested in you."

You inhaled shakily, his words like a balm to your wounded heart.

"And if you'd let me, I'd like to take you out once you're officially a p2." he added with hope shining in his bright eyes.

A smile spread your lips at his words. "I'd love to go out with you, Tim." you gave back, causing his own smile to grow.

His eyes fell to the smile on your lips, and suddenly he cared even less about the open space of the parking lot.

"Can I kiss you?" he wanted to know, eyes finding their way back to yours.

Your smile widened, and you nodded. "You can."

It was delicate the way he pressed his lips to yours, like petals of a flower. One hand snaked its way into your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull you closer. Your own hands gripped his jacket, anchoring you.

It was all you could have wished for.

And suddenly, the headrush wasn't so unpleasant anymore.

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kamisobsessed · 10 days ago

Text

i love this so much

What You Do

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving, fingering), light angst, light fluff, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: This isn't a sex curse. It feel like a sex curse, and looks like a sex curse, but it's not. It has a similar cure to a sex curse, but it's not. And Dean can't fix this.

But the asshole is still going to try.

Author's Note: Back on my (not) sex pollen bullshit. Enjoy!

Title from Shadowboxer by Fiona Apple

Word Count: 7.6k

Sometimes you wish Dean was just a little bit worse of a person.

He seems to think he’s a worse person. He thinks he’s a bad person.

He’s not.

Because a bad person would have left you to writhe and moan on the floor after you got hit with this stupid curse, snapping at you to stand up and pull it together. But Dean had fallen to his knees at your side, brushing away your hair and wiping sweat and blood from your skin. With his hands. Big hands. Big, warm, rough hands with strong, deft fingers that always move so deliberately, that can bruise and mark your skin and fill you up and-

You wished you’d had the strength and mind to push him away in that moment. To grab those hands and shove them away from your face, because where they were usually sparking fireworks, they were setting off nuclear explosions. You wished you’d screamed at him in that moment to at least stop cradling your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones and sending lighting through your blood and into your gut.

But you hadn’t understood what this was. You’d really thought that you were just high on adrenaline and Dean’s touch, the combination making you hornier than usual.

You’d been so fucking wrong. And now Dean won’t stop being a good person, and it’s going to kill you.

He’d insisted on carrying you. You’d taken two, shaking steps, your knees had bucked in an attempt to relieve the pressure between your legs, and Dean had simply refused to let you fall.

“Dean, I can get it, I just need to keep-“

“You say trying,” He’d snapped your name, hooking his arm under your knees and hauling you up his chest. “I’ll fucking shoot you.”

Normally you would’ve protested—insisting that you did need to keep trying, and Dean was just being dramatic—but he’d been warm and strong around you, muscles flexing and shifting as he walked back to the Impala, and your face had come into dangerously close contact with his neck.

You’d bitten through your lip in order not to brush soft kisses over his jaw, suck a spot on his neck, or bite him and see what he’d do to get you back. You’d only made it to the car—and later, into the motel—because you’d been able to bury your face in his skin, and it had tided you over. The smell of Dean—evergreen and spice and gunpowder and something you knew to just purely be him—acting as an anesthetic. Dulling the stabbing, throbbing, and aching pain between your legs and in your gut, soothing your heart back down from the franticly paced rhythm it had set since you’d been hit by that spell.

When he’d set you down on the bed, there had been a brief moment of relief—no more reason to worry about accidentally jumping on him at the worst possible time—before it had all gotten worse. Dean had drawn away, and everything had become a white-hot flame on your every nerve and a sore, blistering cold on your skin. You’d screamed, Dean had rushed back to your side, and he’d started to touch you again. Looking for a wound or mark on your body that he could blame.

There wasn’t one. This was entirely the curse. And every time Dean drew away it was worse—sweat staining your clothing and shivers moving up and down your spine—so you’d agree for him to just stay near you. On the edge of the bed, not touching you because that made everything worse in a different way. Proximity was the best he could offer.

But it wasn’t a fool proof. You were still going out of your mind with desire. And Dean was not helping. He was still being a good fucking person, and he wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d been rolling and moaning into the sheets, whining and humping the air, and Dean had just sat there.

His arms had been braced on his knees. You’d almost started crying as the memory of those knees being shoved between your thighs had sent a newer, stronger wave of desire through your body.

Just another reason Dean needed to go. He’d been refusing to look at you—only staring at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen—and that makes your lungs feel like iron in your chest because why. Why wouldn’t he look at you.

It could be is that he was disgusted by the sight of you. That he’s only ever seen you like this in low, glowing darkness, and when you’re cast in the shifting sunlight between the blinds, he can’t pretend you’re just another body in a bed. Maybe this is making that too real for him. That you’re the one that makes those desperate sounds that always make his hips stutter. You’re the one who grinds like this onto his dick, and who scratches at his back the same way you’ve been scratching at the mattress.

But then sometimes Dean would look at you, and it was far worse. You couldn’t read that expression, either because he didn’t want you to, or because nothing existed outside of Dean when he looked at you. Things like reading him—studying his every breath and shift in the chair—didn’t matter. He was so handsome. Strong jaw and tanned skin, small freckles you could map in your sleep—you’ve certainly done it before, in the dead of night when he couldn’t know—and green eyes that were almost too pretty. They were like falling stars. Bright and colorful and never yours to just reach up and take. Passing by you in the night. Never colliding with you in a way that would leave a damage you’d love to suffer through.

Dean would look at you, and you’d get lovelorn and drunk on his attention, and then you’d make a lewd sound you couldn’t swallow and buck off the bed.

And he’d cough, sit up a little taller—more vigilant, like he could just defend himself for the horrible sight of you—and look away.

And you’d be left in pain and want again.

He’d kept trying to talk to you, while you waited for Sam to call him back with a name for this curse, and a way to cure it.

“So, uh.” He’d cleared his throat, the sound had been gravely and rough, and you’d almost flown out of your skin. “We’re gonna have to stick around for a few days, to make sure this isn’t a coven situation, but we can do whatever the hell we want. Long as we’re in town. I was thinking, I saw a movie theatre-“

You’d gasped, something jumpstarting in your chest and shooting into your gut at the idea of going to see a movie with Dean. His hand on your thigh in the dark, wandering up your leg and tracing pattens, leaning down to your ear to whisper bad jokes, chuckling when you told him to shut up, but fully laughing when you’d joke back-

“Shit, are you-“

“I’m fine.” You’d said, and you don’t think he’d believed you. Fuck, you hadn’t believed you. “Movie sounds good.”

“Yeah, uh, I saw a diner too. We could do a movie, and get dinner.”

You hadn’t been able to see him. You’d started to lie flat on your back a few hours ago, and Dean had been nothing more than a deep, strong voice that sounded like rainfall and crackling fire in your head. Drowning you in the sound and echoing it around your skull, ravaging through you with just noise and igniting an iridescent light on every part of you he’d touched before.

He’d touch you everywhere before. He’d touched you at a diner. Bumped his foot with yours under a table, raised his brows in a silent question, and smirked when you’d given a small nod. He’d knocked on your door that night. He’d been gone from your bed the next morning.

And dinner and a movie wasn’t what you and Dean did. You did things like that.

But Dean had been suggesting it. Saying it casually in that impossibly powerful voice. You’d had to bite down a scream at the idea of getting to lean over the table in the diner—wiping some crumbs off his lips as he grinned at you—and he’d still been talking-

“Then I saw an awesome looking carnival a town over, we could check that out-“

You’d passed out.

When you’d woken up, Dean was hunched at the side of the bed, muttering low words into his phone.

The first one you’d been able to make out was Sam.

You’d never moved faster in your life.

You’d grabbed the phone out of Dean’s hand, ignoring his grunt of protest and how touching his hand had made you a little dizzy. “Sam Winchester, if you can’t tell me what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m going to throw your fucking hair mousse-“

“I don’t- Uh-“ Sam had cleared his throat through the speaker. “How did you know about-“

“I get bored and snoop.” You’d snapped. “Nothing gets past me, Samuel, and I swear to god I’m going to take all the razors you hid and let Dean shave your head-“

“Jesus,” Sam had muttered your name, and it hadn’t been a good sign that the didn’t sound mad or annoyed. He’d sounded like he pitied you. It had made your whole body tense. “It’s really that bad, isn’t it.”

You’d frowned into the air. “I don’t-“

“The curse. You’re really pissed, Dean says you get like that when you’re, um…“ Sam had trailed off, and you’d scowled.

“When I’m what?”

“I don’t wanna say it.”

“Sam-“

“Pent up.” Sam had muttered, the words clipped through the speaker, and if the thought of him dead didn’t make your heart fracture and splinter, you would’ve killed Dean right there. The asshole.

He’d still been sitting on the bed. If you’d leaned a little closer, you would’ve collapsed over him. He’d needed to stop looking so fucking worried. Being so warm you could feel it radiating from his body and seeping into your skin and stoking that need-

“Sam,” you’d whispered, your fingers curling in the sheets and your nails pushing into your skin. “What’s going on?”

He’d let out a long breath, only static silence on the phone for a long moment before he spoke. “I think it’s a famine curse.”

“Oh.” You’d said, then blinked into the air as the words actually sunk in. “What?”

“Look, just so you know, I told Dean it was a sex curse. This isn’t really my thing to tell him, and it’s not technically a lie, but you are going to have to tell him or this, it will kill you-“

“It will what?” Your voice had cracked, and Dean had frowned.

“Are you-“

You’d given Dean a thumbs up, lowering your voice to a hushed, nervous whisper. “Sam, please just say it, I don’t know what going on and I’m so tired and it hurts-“

“It’s-“ Sam had sighed, his voice far too fucking gentle. “The thing you’ve been starved off and craved the most, you need to have it, or you’ll die.”

You’d shaken your head, falling flat onto your back. “I don’t know what I-“

“Yeah, you do.” Sam had said, and now you understood the sympathy. The pity. The rambling and awkwardness.

Because Sam knew. You’d gotten really drunk and cried about the thing to him a year ago. He rarely mentioned it, but he knew.

And this wasn’t going to get better. Not until you made it better.

Until Dean made it better.

So you were fucked.

“What do I do?” You’d whispered into the phone, closing your eyes to pretend Dean wasn’t only a few feet away. “This isn’t going to- There’s nothing that will- Sam, what do I do-“

You’d started to cry, Dean had moved to hold you in a flash—taking the phone and muttering to Sam that he’d deal with it before hanging up—and after your breathing had steady back to a ragged rhythm, you’d gotten a text from Sam.

Tell him.

You’d stared at the screen, ready to throw it across the room or smash it to pieces so you could just die in peace, and another message had come through.

Please.

And now you’re here. And Dean’s still being a good person, and you can’t do this.

He thinks it’s a sex curse. Sam had apparently said that you needed intimate connection, Dean had taken that to mean sex curse, and Sam hadn’t correct him. In Dean’s defense, it really does seem like a sex curse. You’re twisting and grinding and moaning on the bed, your skin long bare because clothing stuck to your skin and felt acidic on your body, and you’re pretty sure he can smell your arousal, but you don’t crave sex.

Dean offers you plenty of it. You haven’t wanted for sex in almost three years.

What you want is going to be impossible to have. Because Dean Winchester doesn’t do love.

And he still won’t stop being a good person.

He tells you it’s okay to rub one out. He cares so much that you’re comfortable. He keeps putting water on the bedside table so you don’t pass out again, and he coaxes you out of bed for food with slow, firm words.

“You need to eat.” He mutters, reaching for your body but flinching back at the last second. You have to bite down a whine. “You look like shit, sweetheart, and until you let someone help you, we’re going to need to keep your energy up.”

You shake your head, burying your face in a pillow and bunching the blankets between your legs, managing to relieve enough pressure to speak. “I don’t wanna.”

“Don’t wanna-“

“Move.” You mumble, rubbing your thighs together. “It hurts-“

Dean says your name, his voice low and rough and not at all helpful. “I’ve told you I’m okay dealing with this-“

“No.”

“Why the hell not? It’s nothing I haven’t done before, and you know we’re good together-“

Your gaze goes a little blurry, and you almost pass out again. He can’t keep saying shit like that.

“Dean, I-“ You roll onto your back to glare at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks concerned. And handsome. And a little flushed as he watches you hug your chest and fuck the mattress.

You can’t look him in the eyes.

You can’t really do anything at all.

“Please just drop it.” You curl further into yourself, praying he’s started to stare at the floor again. “Please.”

Dean lets out a long breath, but he does. He drops it, on the condition that you eat. And when you do, he keeps trying to talk to you, and you’re too exhausted to tell him to shut up.

“What’d you mean, when you told Sammy you snoop?” He asks, and it takes three steady breaths to answer him.

“Sometimes you guys go out, I stay behind, and I get… bored.”

“Bored?”

You nod, fidgeting with your fingers and trying not to hump your chair. “I go around and find where you’re hiding things.”

“Like...” Dean pauses and you can hear his confused frown. He’s probably making an adorable face. You wish you could look at him and not moan. “Hair gel and razors?”

“And romance books. And a secret laptop for personal use.” You drop your brow to fully rest on the table, raising your voice. “And a Taylor Swift cassette tape, and a very soft blanket, and three emergency pies-“

“Alright, alright I get it.” Dean chuckles, and the sound rolls right through your body. “You’ve really just poked in our business, huh, sweetheart?”

“You poke in mine all the time, Dean-“

“I don’t know where your secret stash of shame is-“

“And you never will,” you mumble, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I hid it where even demons wouldn’t want to go.”

Dean hums. “Sammy’s room.”

“No.”

“Your room?”

“That would be a terrible hiding spot-“

“My room?”

You’re silent for a second too long, and Dean’s tone becomes disbelieving.

“You hid it in my room?! What’d you do that for?!“

“Shut up.”

“Nah, baby, you’re gonna have to explain that one-“

“Dean!” You snap, glaring up at him. “Shut up!”

You’re looking at him. His eyes are darkened. And you’d misread his tone. It’s awe on his face. Awe and confusion.

You fall out of your seat with a moan.

Dean catches you.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, half dragging you back to the bed and placing you carefully on the mattress before digging through his jeans. “If you’re not going to let me help you, I’m calling Sam and he’ll- fuck- he’ll do it-“

“Dean, no-“

“Yes.” He snaps, shooting you an almost violent glare. “I don’t know what the fuck I did that you don’t want to touch me, and I’m not gonna cross that line, not for nothing, but we’re still fixing this. You don’t want me, you get Sam. You don’t want Sam, I’m calling Cas. You don’t want him, you better start brainstorming, sweetheart, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to just fucking sit here and watch you die-“

You’re going to start crying again. It’s all too much. He sounds angry and your cursed and addled brain can’t handle it. You’re burning up from the inside. You’re breathing and it doesn’t feel like oxygen because Dean’s mad and you can’t do anything-

“Please don’t call them.” You mumble, pulling your knees up to your chest. “They won’t be able to help.”

Dean shakes his head, his focused, furious determination not breaking. “Then what the hell will help?! Because you’re going to have sex! You’re not allowed to clock out on me,” he shouts your name, and now he just sounds pained, and it’s worse. “I don’t- I’m not- If I can’t be the cure for this we’re finding someone who can-“

“It won’t work-“

“Yes, it will! Sam said you needed to fuck, you’re-“

“That’s not what Sam said.”

There’s a long pause as Dean blinks at you, and then-

“What are you talking about.”

“He said I needed an intimate connection.”

“Yeah, sex-“

“No-“

“It’s a fucking sex curse, baby-“

“Stop saying that!” You scream, and the room seems to be spinning a little bit. “Stop calling me baby! It’s not fair, and I- I can’t- You’re making it worse, Dean! Just stop being so fucking nice!”

The silence is going to suffocate you. It’s like oil and gasoline leaking into your lungs and surrounding your body, and you’re going to drown in what feels like nothing at all as Dean’s just silent-

Dean says your name, his every word slow and measured. “What kind of curse is it.”

“Dean-“

“You said it’s not a sex curse.” He snaps. “So what the hell is it.”

You swallow, and you’re too far gone now to push back. “Famine curse.” You whisper. “I- I need something that I’ve been starved off. And craved.”

You can hear his frown. “But we fuck all the time-“

“We do.” You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your palm over your pussy. It doesn’t really help. “It’s not just about the sex. It’s- I need more.”

“More…” Dean trails off, and you’re defiantly crying now. “More intimacy? Would we like, need to cuddle or something-“

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “More than cuddling. It’s- You’d have to- I-“

Dean says your name in a low warning, and you might break that hand between your thighs. ‘What-“

“You’d have to mean it. You’d have to, um, fuck me and-“

“And mean it? I always mean it-“

“You have to love me!” You almost scream, your mouth moving faster than any sense of self-preservation or will, and you’ve fucked it.

You’d said the thing. You weren’t even supposed to think it. You’d trained yourself to keep it only a ravenous, deep and insatiable feeling inside your body that picked up and rioted when Dean was around you and grew bitter and heavy when he wasn’t.

But you’d said it.

And he’s not gone. He didn’t fly out the door or scramble off the bed with wide eyes. He’s not reminding you in gentle but firm words that that is not what you two are supposed to be.

But what he does is worse. He leans over your body to look at you, takes your face between his hands and scans over your slack, open features, and says your name.

You pass out again.

It’s not hard, waking up. This time it’s simple and slow, a comfortable weight draped around your shoulders a sense of ease filling your whole body.

There’s a strong arm wrapped around your stomach, and a warm thumb rubbing small circles on the bare skin of your waist, and nothing is aching or painful at all.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice is low in your ear, and you almost moan again. He’s not naked behind you, but he’s changed into sweats, and his shirt is gone. You can’t stop the frantic grind of your ass back into him, or the desperate sound that leaves you when Dean’s grip tightens, stopping any further attempt to move on him.

“Please,” you whisper, squirming against him, because if you’re going to die from something as dumb and pathetic as this, you might as well go out with Dean buried inside you. “Dean-“

“None of that right now.” He mutters, completely pinning you against his chest. “Not yet. We gotta talk first.”

“Dean-“

“You want me.”

“Yeah.” You mumble, and Dean hums, his voice slightly hoarse.

“You love me?”

“I love you.” You can’t stop the words, and he’s still not gone.

His hand starting to drift lower. And when he speaks, and his voice is almost a growl, and you’re going to implode or explode or something. Burst into flames somehow, because that’s his I’m going to fuck you so good, baby, voice.

“You need me to mean it?” He mutters in your ear, and you nod weakly.

“Yeah, Dean, but you don’t have to-“

Dean grabs your chin and angles your head back, slamming his lips into yours with a bruising but careful force, and you don’t explode. You melt. Molding against his body and going slack in his arms, leaning your head back to try and devour the taste of him. Cheap coffee and mint and that purely Dean thing that’s always been like a drug. Always hooked you and dragged you right into him.

This won’t be different. It might end in your heart literally breaking, but you’ll still be chasing him until your legs give out. If he catches you, he catches you. If he doesn’t-

There are worse deaths that this.

“Sit back, sweetheart.” Dean murmurs against your skin, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. “I’m going to mean it so hard you’ll see stars.”

“Dean, I- It’s more than that-“

He cuts you off with another kiss. He needs to stop doing that, because now he’s being soft and sweet, running his tongue over your teeth and letting you melt all the way into his touch without thought. Teasing you with a deep hum that you can feel in his chest behind you, making your eyes flutter close as you let yourself get lost in him. How good he is, how he good tastes, how good his hands feel as they start palm at your tits-

You gasp as he pinches and rolls a nipple between his fingers, and you’re already so overstimulated from nothing at all that it’s like being slammed with a freight train. A good freight train. A freight train that’s made of Dean’s mouth starting to wander down your neck, and his thumb rubbing soothing circles around the peak of your breast.

“I know, baby.” Dean keeps speaking against you, and it only stokes the borderline maddening need for him in your body. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. You’re drowning in this almost primal need for him, and he still hasn’t said the thing that would save you, but he’s got you.

And you’d trust him. With everything you have, you trust Dean. Every single shadowed and scarred and mauled part of you has long known that, even when you have nowhere and no one, you have Dean. Not the way you want, but at your side in the day and above you in the dark. He can be a protector and a secret. You really could’ve lived with both, if it wasn’t for this stupid fucking curse.

But Dean says he’s got you, and you can’t think of anything to do but believe him. Especially because this isn’t the dark. There are lamps on, and he can see you. All of you, naked in his arms, and making lewd sounds as his knee shoves between your legs and his mouth starts to suck small marks on your neck.

He’s never done that before. Dean’s only marked you between your thighs and on your breasts. You think he’d liked that only he would be the one to see them. He’d been possessive every time he’d put laid them there, muttering low praise and gripping you tight enough to bruise your hips, tracing rough fingers over the dark spots with a gleam in his eyes you’d never allowed yourself to read into.

He’s being possessive now, too. Every time he moves to a different spot on your neck, he kisses the mark he’d just left, and he’s trapping you against his knee with an arm over your stomach, growling as you grind against him and throw your head back on his shoulder.

“Dean,” you gasp, your nails digging into his skin as he flicks your nipple. “God, please, I- I need- Need it-“

“’S alright, pretty girl.” He mutters, and your hips jerk against him. “Just let go, I’m here-“

You scream as you cum, and Dean grabs your chin, keeping your head against him as he swallows the sound with a groan.

“There’s one.” Dean smiles against your lips, and your wiggle against him as he rubs his knee back and forth on your cunt. “Good work, baby.”

For a second, everything is okay again. Dean’s kisses wander over your jaw, he’s still holding you, and the bliss in your body is only a clear, dazed light in your head and gentle warmth in your gut.

But then the light becomes blinding and searing in your skull, and the warmth becomes fire. Leaving blisters on your organs and making your skin spiked and wired and burnt-

You barely have a moment to shriek before Dean’s kissing you again, and it dulls everything but the pleasure. Just Dean’s tongue pressing onto yours, his hands gripping you by your hips and rolling you onto your back, his body covering yours entirely as he pulls away with a wide, almost boyish grin to look at you.

You’re a mess. You must be a mess. You’re wet in every possible sense of the word—arousal leaking between your thighs you know he’d been able to feel on his knee, sweat pressing your hair to your brow and staining the sheets below you—and you’re flushed and panting and a little fucking dizzy as you hang on the edge of. This isn’t how you’d want Dean to see you. Not like this, not for the first and last time, not when your breathing is ragged and you’re already wrecked and he looks like a god-

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, shaking his head like he almost can’t believe. “Shit, baby, you’re gorgeous.”

You whine, because it’s all your mouth can manage to figure out how to do, and if you’re hot Dean’s volcanic. His nostrils are flaring as he scans over you, his skin looking like it fucking glows and his body carved from your deepest desires, and his cock is big and proud and poking on your thigh, and his eyes-

There’s a gleam in them. The possessive gleam you’ve never seen in full light. It’s intoxicating, and aimed at your soul like the barrel of a gun.

Dean starts to move again, and all you can do is let him work. Let him leave those same marking kisses down your chest—between and across your breasts, briefly sucking each nipple between his lips and flicking it with his tongue before moving on—and over your stomach, trailing feather-light touches over your torso and arms and waist, driving you out of your mind as you focus on breathing. Just breathing as your body starts to roll and rush with pleasure, and your head just spins around Dean. Everything smells like him, and you can hear him groaning against your skin, and you can feel him everywhere.

He’s reached your abdomen. And when his mouth finally drops lower, all he does is press one, soft kiss right over your clit before drawing back. Letting two broad fingers run over and between your pussy lips, spreading your folds wide for him to see and pressing his thumb right over your cunt without breaching inside.

“So fucking wet,” Dean says your name, and you really wish you could see his face right now. See if he looks as awestruck as he sounds.

You make a strangled sound that’s supposed to be his name, and he chuckles.

“Jesus, babygirl, you’re fucking soaked. Bet this pussy is ready for a proper fucking.” He presses his thumb slightly down, and if you had the energy to spring off the bed, you would. “But I think you’re going to need to hold it for a second. Let me get you nice and ready to take this cock.”

Your fingers curl in the bedsheet as you try to figure out how to scream at him to just take you, to stop being so fucking good and just fuck you, but you can’t. All you can do is listen to Dean’s deep, lustful drawl and hope you look half as pretty as he pretends you are.

Dean drags your hands from the sheets to tangle in his hair, and all you get is a small squeeze of your thighs before he’s shoving them fully apart and burying his face in your cunt.

It’s unfair, how good Dean is at this. He can’t be handsome and funny and able to ruin you with just his mouth, but he is. He knows exactly how to touch and taunt and toy with you, how to play with your pussy until you’re higher than fucking heaven. He tongue-fucks your cunt with an almost brutal fervor, and his strong nose rubs back and forth of your clit, and fuck, his hands are teasing at your thighs and keeping your legs split open for him to devour you.

You’ve never made these sounds before, and it’s spurring him on. Dean starts to circle your clit with his tongue, licking and sucking and rolling until you’re in a frenzy, and his stubble is perfectly soft and rough on your skin, and his teeth are grazing you ever so slightly-

You don’t scream this time. You moan and choke on air as you cum, and a flood of warmth rushed through your dripping cunt as you tug at Dean’s hair.

He rises up, wiping his face of something shiny and wet that you might have put there, and grins at you with bright, sparkling eyes.

“I didn’t know you could squirt.” He examines his fingers, looking back to you with a wide grin “We’re gonna have to figure out how to make you do it again, though, because that was fucking hot.”

You didn’t know you could squirt either. And you’d linger on how you might not have an again, but this relief is lasting longer, and Dean decides it’s a good idea to lick his fingers clean.

You’d had just enough strength to push up on your palms. You almost collapse back down at the sight, the ache starting to reignite between your legs.

But it’s not enough to hurt, though. This orgasm seems to be cresting, tiding you over for a little until the curse regains its hold on your body, and you plan to take full advantage of that. Dean’s still hard. And massive. And fucking throbbing.

You need him. Now.

When you move to your knees, crawling forward on the bed, Dean’s eyes widen.

“Shit, wait, sweetheart-“

You surge up when you meet him, crashing your lips to his and hanging off his body as he holds you upright. Thank god, he lets you have this. Dean groans into your mouth and ruts into your thigh, tugging on your hair to grant himself further access to your lips and throat.

You lower yourself to your knees and take Dean’s cock in your hands, slowly pumping him as he keeps a hand in your hair, shaking his head slightly.

“Baby, you don’t have to-“

“I do.” You whisper. You have to. Not for the curse, but for you. He needs to feel good too. You have to taste him, feel him heavy on your tongue and hear him groan when you touch him-

“I-“ He lets out a low groan as you run your thumb over his already weeping slit, and God, he’s so handsome. “Are you feeling-“

“I’m good. I promise.” You stroke him one last time before leaning back, rising your arms over your head as you hold his gaze. “Please.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters your name, rubbing his jaw. “You’re- shit, okay.”

You smile at him as he moves to straddle your chest, bracing one hand on the headboard and the other in your head.

“Don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, baby.” He mutters, pressing his dick on your lower lip and grunting when you part for him. “So fuckin’ pretty. Gonna fuck your mouth until you scream, sweetheart, so you need to-“

You grip Dean’s thighs, fully opening your mouth in a silent invitation, and his eyes flash, his hand tightening in your hair.

It’s all the warning you get before Dean shoves his cock between your lips and starts to rut into your mouth. He’s bumping the back of your throat and groaning your name above you, and he looks divine and tastes like salt and earth and Dean.

“God, you feel so good,” his words are fully slurring, low and almost a growl as you hollow your cheeks. “Shit, babygirl, you’re a fucking sin, look so beautiful suckin’ my cock, so fuckin’ good-“

He’s so fucking good. Dean’s head thrown back and his eyes hooded and trapped on yours, his biceps flexing as he leans forward and angles your head, and the ache is starting bubble over again so you drift a hand between your legs, and every time his hips jerk you whine and swallow around him-

“Fuck-“ Dean hisses, and he pulls away from you with a pop and groan, grabbing your wrist and pinning it back above your head. “Can’t do that yet, I told you we need to hold on-“

“Please,” you whisper, the pain starting to become overwhelming again. It’s worse this time. You feel like you’re being flayed alive every second Dean’s skin isn’t pressed to yours, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on for. “Dean, I need you, please.” You almost sob, and his jaw clenches. “I’m sorry, I just, it hurts-“

This is the softest kiss so far. Just a press of his lips on yours, the type of kiss you’d give a real lover, just to assure them you’re there. That you’ve got them and you’re never letting go.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. I’m gonna take care of you.” Dean scans over you, his voice so painfully gentle. “How do you-“

“However you want.” Your voice is barely a breath, and you spread your legs as wide as you can, praying he’ll just take what he wants.

But he’s a good person. So he doesn’t. Dean presses one last kiss to your brow, rolls you above him, and guides you down onto his cock.

You make a loud, shameless sound of relief as he bottoms out. You’re in a daze of pure Dean—filling you up and pressing deep inside of you and so good—and when you start to rock your hips, he lets you. Dean just watches you grind onto his dick with a dark, slightly glazed expression, grunting when you roll in a circle and holding you upright by your waist.

He lets you set the pace, lets your hands wander over every scar on his chest and your body writhe above him.

“Dean-“ You gasp, falling forwards to kiss him deep and desperate into the pillows. “I- you’re- God-“

He sucks on your upper lip, his voice only a growl that rumbles right into your cunt. “Say it again.”

“Dean-“

“No.” His hips jerk up, his grip tightening slightly. “Say the thing.”

“I love you,” you moan, and this time there’s no panic. He already knows. And whatever he asks of you, you’ll offer. Anything to stay here. Stuffed with Dean’s cock, a little high on how he’s watching you like you’re the first sunrise. “I love you, Dean, you’re- fuck, you’re so good-“

The sound that leaves Dean is feral, and he flips you over without effort. Pulling out briefly to reposition you beneath him, slapping the head of his cock on your clit, and shoving back into you with a groan and deep, rough kiss.

His pace doesn’t change from what you’d set. It’s almost in perfect time, rolling his hips to press against the deepest part of you and kissing all over your face as he drags you right back up to the edge.

“Look at you, baby. Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ good,” he grunts in your ear, his skin slapping against yours. “So pretty, such a tight, sweet pussy, so good, all mine-“

You moan, squeezing around him, and Dean groans, speeding up just enough to slam against at gooey, needy spot inside of you.

“There we go, sweetheart, gimme one more-“

You shake your head, clinging to his shoulders as he starts to rub furious circles on your clit. “Dean- I can’t-“

“You can. I know you can, baby, you gotta cum-“

“Dean-“

“C’mon!” He growls your name, and he sounds almost desperate. “I’ve gotcha, baby, I’m here, you just gotta cum for me, fuckin’ cum-“

You think you scream his name. You’re not really sure. Pleasure numbs your every other sense as your orgasm hits, and all you can hear is your blood pounding in your ears and Dean’s voice, right next to your ear.

“I love you,” he says your name, and you really wish the world wasn’t just light and hazy warmth right now. “So much, and I- fuck- I need you. Please.”

The next few moments are utter oblivion. You can’t tell if you’re cured or not, because all you can smell and feel is Dean and warmth leaking between your thighs, but all you can hear are Dean’s words bouncing around your head, and all you can see is white.

He loves you.

He needs you.

And when you come back down, your vision clearing and every bit of pain evaporating into the air, you feel good.

Dean’s no longer above you. He’s moved you into his lap, and he’s holding you to his chest as if you’re a stuffed animal. Your face his pressed into his neck, and his voice is low enough you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying, but it sounds like he’s praying.

You wait a second as your mind returns to your body, and he’s not praying. He’s mostly just saying your name, over and over again, but his tone is heavy and rough, and it sounds like a prayer.

“Dean,” you whisper, pushing slightly off of his chest to meet his wide eyes. “I-“

He kisses you. But this isn’t one of the soft, reassuring kisses, or the heady, lustful ones. It’s long and deep and careful, and it feels like he’s trying to push his breath into your throat. He’s holding you like you’re fragile and—when he pulls away and presses his brow to yours—looking at you like just his gaze might turn you to mist in his hands.

“Did it work?” His voice is strained, his fingers digging slightly into your skin like he’s trying to tether you together, or drag you into his body. “Are we good?”

You nod, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth because you can’t help yourself. “We’re good.”

“Thank fuck.” He lets out a long breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “Son of a bitch, I had the three orgasms down, but Sam said you I’d have to say it during climax, and he didn’t say if it would be mine or yours so I had to take the gamble-“

“Sam said?!” You lean away from him, gaping slightly. “When did you ask Sam-“

“After you said you love me, then passed out.” Dean gives you a flat look. “You weren’t going to be helpful, sweetheart, and I needed to know how to fix this.”

“You-“ You swallow, flushing as you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Did you- Did you know you could fix it? After I told you how?”

Dean nostrils flare, and he nods. “Yeah.”

“And did you mean it?”

A small smile plays on his lips. “Curse wouldn’t have worked if I didn’t, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, whacking his arm. “Shut up, I’ve had a long day-“

“You’ve had a long day?” Dean raises his brows, his grin becoming shit eating. “The girl I love almost just died because she would just let me fuck her-“

“Well how was I supposed to know you loved me! You’d never said it-“

“Neither had you-“

“Yeah, but- you-“ You scowl at him, even as you drop your brow back to his. “You never fucked me with the lights on.”

“You never asked me to fuck you with the lights on.” Dean lets out a long breath, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I thought you just didn’t want me to.”

“Oh.” You sigh. “Well, fuck.”

Dean chuckles in agreement, nodding. “Also, did you tell Sam and not me-“

“By accident-“ You pause, your eyes widening on Deans. “Wait, he didn’t know that you-“

“He was the only person that knew. The little bitch.” Dean grumbles, and you giggle, kissing him on the cheek and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Sam is not little.”

“He’s gonna be little when I’m done with him. Letting me think you didn’t love me when he fucking knew-“

“I did tell him not to say anything.” You offer. “There were threats of stabbing.”

“He shoulda risked it.” Dean snaps, and you just hum against his skin.

You could get used to this.

You really need to make sure it’s real, and that the oblivion wasn’t actually death, and you’re not just in heaven right now. You probably wouldn’t actually make it to heaven, but it could also just be a really creative hell, so you have to check.

“Dean?”

He grunts, tracing pattern on your hips, and you let out a slow breath.

“How long have you… loved me?”

“I-“ He sighs, not quite meeting your eyes. “A while.”

“How long is-“

“Long enough that I don’t remember.”

“Oh.” You mumble, and he lets out a dry chuckle.

“How about you?”

“Forever.” You whisper, scanning over his face to figure out if you can find what you’d somehow missed before.

And there it is. In the light, it’s easy to see. Clear, soft and solid love written on Dean’s every feature, all of it designed for you. It’s not really in his eyes or the curve of his lip, or how he’s holding you or shifting to keep you comfortable above him. It’s all of it together, spelling out so obviously that Dean loves you.

You wonder if he can see something similar on you. If that’s why his eyes flash and his lips part, his hands stilling on your body and his voice growing rough.

“Are we- Is this it?”

“This-“

“Us.” He mutters, and you’ve never seen him nervous before. Bowing his head as he blushes, leaning a little closer to your body like he could move into you forever. “Together.”

“I-“ Your fingers trace over a scar on his abdomen, and you take a long breath. “Do you want to do this? Us?”

“More than anything.”

“Oh.” You swallow, and Dean looks up at you with an almost panicked expression.

“Do you- I get it if you don’t, Sammy and I don’t have a great track record, but I fucking swear, baby, I’d-“

It’s your turn to cut him off with a kiss. And when you pull back he looks a little dazed, and you smile.

“I want you, Dean. More than anything.”

Dean drags you into a deeper longer kiss, he really is the best person you’ve ever known.

A worse person wouldn’t hold you like this. A worse person wouldn’t say they love you and make sure you feel it in your bones. A worse person could never smile like Dean does—wide and toothy and bright—or light up your whole world with just his presence and voice.

“You and me, baby?”

“Okay.” You smile back, and he’s so good. “You and me.”

“Awesome.”

End Note: Is it even porn if it isn't emotional??? Am I even me if I don't make it emotional??

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber

#kamisreading

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kamisobsessed · 1 month ago

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My favorite Dean series rn!! It's so good😍 I absolutely love Lou's work!

✨Masterlist - THI✨

-> 18+ only! <-

Taking her in - Pt. 1

Taking her in - Pt. 2

Taking her in - Pt. 3

Taking her in - Pt. 4

Taking her in - Pt. 5

Taking her in - Pt. 6

Taking her in - Pt. 7

Taking her in - Pt. 8

Taking her in - Pt. 9

Taking her in - Pt. 10

Taking her in - Pt. 11

Taking her in - Pt. 12

Taking her in - Pt. 13

Taking her in - Pt. 14

Taking her in - Pt. 15

#kamisreading #jensen ackles #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader

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kamisobsessed · 10 days ago

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read this read this read this! i can't wait for part 3!

It's Not A Big Deal Series

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, Angst

Warnings: I'm gonna label this series 18+ just to be sure. Swearing, Mentions of Sex, References to Sex, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Past Sex. Dean Winchester being Dean Winchester. Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @justagirlinafandomworld for inspiring me with her fic Stranded that she wrote for @jacklesversebingo 😊

Part 1: It's Not A Big Deal [AO3]

Part 2: It Is A Big Deal!

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal? COMING 01/31/2025!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

#supernatural #the boys #kamisreading

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kamisobsessed · 30 days ago

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Tim Bradford is such a cutie patootie frfr

Hey 😊 I love your writing sooo much !

Would you maybe write a Tim Bradford imagine where you're also a TO and you're having feelings for each other but you both try to ignore them, not to let them get in your way during the job. One time that changes as like in the episodes where Lucy gets kidnapped, it's you instead of her after a date gone wrong. Tim is on the edge the whole time till they find you. And when he sees you in that barrel, barely alive, his world crashes. Of course you can be saved and he stays at the hospital all the time. When you get home he also insists on taking care of you and there he also finds the courage to tell you his feelings properly, how much he loves you and that he'll always be there to protect you. I hope that's okay with you 💗🫶🏼

I’m not going anywhere

Summary: Tim and Y/N, both tough and dedicated TOs, struggle to suppress their growing feelings for each other. When Y/N is abducted after a date goes wrong, Tim refuses to back down, risking everything to find her.

Note: I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, love! 🫶 Thank you for this amazing request, I absolutely love the idea! I decided to give it my own spin to keep it unique and fresh instead of copying the entire episode. I hope you enjoy it! 🤍

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst

Being a Training Officer was never easy. You were expected to mold rookies into dependable cops, but it was also your job to keep them alive.

Every shift brought challenges that tested your patience and skills, especially when you worked alongside someone like Tim Bradford.

Tim was a force of nature. His bluntness could crush egos, his discipline was unmatched, and his loyalty ran deeper than any badge.

As a fellow TO, I admired him more than I cared to admit. But admiration had morphed into something more, something complicated.

I had feelings for him. And it was maddening.

Tim was infuriating. He challenged me at every turn, pushed me to my limits, and managed to crawl under my skin like no one else ever had.

But then there were the moments that made my heart ache:

the quiet glances when he thought no one was watching, the softness in his voice when he checked on me after a tough day, the way he never let anyone, rookie or otherwise, disrespect me.

We would also text each other back and forth to check in on one another.

It got to the point where if one of us didn’t respond within an hour, we assumed something was wrong.

That’s what normal colleagues do, right? Checking up on one another, or am I just fooling myself?

For months, I’d buried those feelings, telling myself that they were a distraction I couldn’t afford.

This job was dangerous enough without the added complication of being in love with my colleague.

Still, there were moments when I wondered if he felt the same.

I mean, someone like Tim Bradford wouldn’t just know my favorite coffee order for no reason, right?

The station was already filled with people when I arrived, the smell of burnt coffee and stale paperwork filling the air.

I was halfway to my desk when I heard Tim’s voice behind me.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” he said, stepping beside me.

“Good morning to you too, Bradford,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“I’m serious,” he said, giving me a once-over and putting the coffee he got me down on my desk.

“Late night?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, collapsing into my chair.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Work-related?”

“No.”

He didn’t ask further, but the tension in his jaw told me he wanted to.

The truth was, I’d been on another date last night.

For weeks, I’d been trying to distract myself from my feelings for Tim by going out with guys I barely knew.

The dates were always the same, awkward conversations, forced laughter, and a growing sense that I was wasting my time.

But I kept trying, convinced that if I could just find someone else, I’d stop thinking about Tim every second of every day.

“How’s the rookie?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself.

Tim sighed. “Still green, but they’ll get there.”

Before he could say more, Angela appeared, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, if it isn’t the dream team,” she teased, leaning against my desk.

“What do you want, Lopez?” Tim asked, crossing his arms.

“Nothing,” she said innocently.

“Just enjoying the sight of you two pretending you’re not completely into each other.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Excuse me?”

Angela smirked. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious to everyone but you two.”

Tim’s ears turned red, and he muttered something under his breath before walking off.

“You really need to do something about that tension,” Angela said, winking at me.

I glared at her. “There is no tension. Besides, I'm going on a date later tonight." I added to make her shut up.

“Sure, but we both know the real reason why you're going on that date,” she said, walking away with a laugh.

I glanced at Tim, who was now at the other end of the room, barking orders at a rookie.

For a moment, our eyes met, and my heart did that stupid fluttering thing I hated so much.

Angela might have been onto something.

That evening after my shift, I found myself sitting across from Eric, my date for the night.

He was tall, dark-haired, and charming in a way that felt almost too polished.

We’d met at a coffee shop a week ago, and while I hadn’t been particularly interested, I’d agreed to go out with him.

“So, what made you say yes?” Eric asked, flashing me a grin.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admitted, sipping my drink.

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I nodded, but my mind wasn’t really on him. As he talked about his job in finance, I found myself comparing him to Tim.

Eric was nice, but he didn’t have Tim’s sharp wit or his quiet strength.

“You’re distracted,” Eric said suddenly, his voice breaking into my thoughts.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “Long day.”

“Let’s fix that,” he said, signaling the bartender for another round. “How about we go somewhere quieter after this?”

I hesitated, knowing I shouldn't agree to go with a stranger but I wanted to forget about Tim.

His charm had a rehearsed quality, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something about Eric felt... off.

But I pushed the thought aside, chalking it up to my overactive imagination.

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile

Eric’s apartment was in a run-down building on the outskirts of the city.

The moment I stepped inside, unease crept up my spine.

The place was sparse, too sparse, and smelled faintly of chemicals.

“Nice place,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

“Thanks,” Eric replied, locking the door behind us.

When I turned to face him, his expression had changed. The easy smile was gone, replaced by something darker.

“You’re a cop, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

I froze. Not understanding why that was important. “What?”

“I saw your badge the other night,” he said, stepping closer.

My heart raced. “Eric, I think you’re confused—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my arm, his grip bruising.

“You cops think you’re so smart,” he snarled. “Always sticking your noses where they don’t belong.”

“Let go of me,” I said, trying to pull away.

He didn’t. Instead, he shoved me against the wall, his hand clamping over my mouth.

“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed.

Panic surged through me as he dragged me toward a side door. My mind raced, searching for an escape, but he was too strong.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was the glint of a syringe in his hand.

When I woke up, my head throbbed, and my body felt heavy. I was in a dark, cold room, my hands bound and my mouth gagged.

Eric stood over me, a twisted smile on his face.

“Slept well, officer?” he taunted.

I glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“You thought you could mess with me?” he continued, pacing. “Well, now you’re going to see what happens when people cross me.”

He opened a barrel in the corner of the room, the metallic smell making my stomach churn.

“No one’s coming for you,” he said, lifting me effortlessly and shoving me inside.

As the lid closed, plunging me into darkness, I fought to stay calm. I couldn’t die here. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Tim paced through the station, his instincts churning. Something was wrong.

He couldn't explain it, but the nagging feeling in his gut had only grown stronger since Y/N hadn’t responded to his messages.

It wasn’t like her to leave him hanging, and she always checked in after her shifts or when she went out.

He tried to push the thought aside, she was a grown woman, capable and strong, but it wouldn’t leave him.

Tim knew her routines, and her habits, and something didn’t add up. He checked his phone again.

Nothing.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling over.

Back at his desk, Tim pulled out his phone and shot her another text:

“You home safe?”

The minutes ticked by, and there was no response.

He told himself she was probably asleep or didn’t hear her phone. She always replied, though. Always.

Another text: “Y/N, call me when you get this.”

Tim stared at the screen, waiting, the worry clawing at him now. He scrolled through their recent messages, trying to reassure himself.

Her last text had been earlier in the evening: “Heading out now. Have fun working your long shift!”

It sounded normal. Casual. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He stepped out into the hallway and called her phone. It rang and rang before going to voicemail.

“Y/N, it’s me. Call me back when you get this, alright? Just… let me know you’re okay.”

He hung up, his chest tightening. Something was definitely wrong.

Tim called her again, then again, but there was no answer.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth.

He decided to start with the basics. Heading to Grey’s office, Tim knocked and stepped in without waiting for an answer.

“Bradford, what can I do for you?” Grey asked, looking up from his paperwork.

“Have you seen Y/L/N? She didn’t come back to the station tonight, did she?” Tim asked, keeping his tone steady, though his mind was racing.

Grey shook his head. “No, she clocked out on time. Why?”

Tim hesitated. “No reason just hadn’t heard from her. Thought she might’ve stayed late.”

“Everything okay?” Grey’s perceptive gaze lingered.

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s fine.” Tim turned and left the office, though his gut told him otherwise.

Tim strode into the bullpen, where Angela Lopez and Nyla Harper were deep in conversation over their laptops.

“Have either of you heard from Y/N?” Tim asked abruptly.

Angela looked up, frowning. “Not since this morning. Didn’t she have a date tonight?”

The word date hit Tim like a punch. “Do you know where?”

Angela shook her head. “She didn’t say much, just that it was someone new she met online. Why?”

Tim’s jaw tightened. “She’s not answering her phone.”

Nyla set her coffee down, her sharp instincts immediately kicking in. “How long has it been?”

“Hours,” Tim admitted, his frustration evident. “She always checks in. This isn’t like her.”

Angela exchanged a glance with Nyla.

“Alright,” Nyla said, standing up.

“Let’s figure this out. You said she had a date, does she use any apps? Maybe tech can pull her messages.”

Angela nodded. “She mentioned using something, but I don’t remember the name. Let’s get tech on it.”

Angela grabbed her phone, calling tech support while Nyla placed a calming hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her, Bradford,” she said firmly. “You know Y/N, she’s tough. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

Tim didn’t respond, his jaw clenched tightly.

The bullpen was full of people and their voices, but to Tim, the noise was a distant hum.

His focus was razor-sharp, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ached.

He loomed behind the tech analyst’s desk, the tension radiating off him making the others keep their distance.

Angela and Nyla exchanged concerned glances nearby, but no one dared to interrupt him.

“Anything yet?” he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.

The analyst flinched slightly but kept typing. “I’m pulling her dating app data now. It’s just taking a moment to decrypt the server.”

Tim’s fists clenched at his sides. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Y/N was out there, somewhere, and the thought of her being in danger gnawed at him like a vice around his chest.

Finally, the analyst straightened. “Got something!”

Tim surged forward, leaning over the desk as the analyst brought up a profile on the screen.

“She was messaging a guy named Eric Dawson,” the analyst explained, scrolling through the messages.

“They had arranged to meet at a bar in Eagle Rock.”

Tim’s heart pounded. “What bar?”

“Solana’s Tavern,” the analyst replied.

Nyla crossed her arms, her brow furrowed.

“That area’s rough. Not exactly where you take someone on a first date.”

Tim’s chest tightened further. “Pull traffic cams from outside the bar. I need to know if she made it there and if she left.”

The analyst nodded and got to work, typing furiously. The tension in the room was suffocating as everyone watched the screen in silence.

Tim paced behind the desk, every step heavy with barely restrained anxiety.

“Tim,” Angela said softly, approaching him.

“Maybe you should take a beat. Let us handle this.”

He spun around, his eyes blazing. “No. She’s counting on me. I’m not sitting this one out.”

Angela held up her hands in surrender, backing off.

“Got it!” the analyst said, breaking the silence.

Footage from a traffic camera outside the bar flickered onto the screen.

They watched as Y/N appeared, her expression hesitant as she walked into the bar.

“There she is,” Angela said, pointing at the screen.

Tim leaned closer, his eyes locked on the image of Y/N.

He barely noticed how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the desk.

The analyst fast-forwarded the footage, scanning for her exit. About an hour later, Y/N appeared again, walking out with a man.

The guy had his hand on her arm, his grip firm, his body language all wrong.

“She doesn’t look comfortable,” Nyla said, her voice low.

“He’s leading her. She’s not willingly going with him.”

Tim’s stomach churned. “Run his plates,” he snapped, his tone sharp.

The analyst zoomed in on the car the man guided Y/N towards, pulling up the plate number.

Seconds later, the vehicle’s registration information appeared.

“The car is registered to an address just outside the city,” the analyst said.

“A warehouse on the outskirts of town.”

“That’s it,” Tim said, already moving.

He grabbed his vest and radio. “Gear up. We’re heading there now.”

“Tim,” Grey’s voice called, cutting through the chaos.

Tim stopped but didn’t turn around.

“You need to stay focused,” Grey said firmly, stepping closer.

“I know how much this means to you, but if you’re too emotional, you’ll compromise the operation.”

Tim turned, his eyes hard. “With all due respect sir but again, I’m not sitting this one out.”

Grey studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But keep your head on straight. She’s counting on you, and I can't afford to lose one of my best officers.”

Tim nodded sharply, strapping on his vest.

“Let’s move,” he said to Angela and Nyla, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With the rest of the team following behind.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, a decrepit shell of concrete and rust that felt suffocating even from the outside.

Tim’s heart pounded in his chest as he and the team moved in silently, weapons drawn.

Every instinct screamed at him to hurry, but he forced himself to stay focused.

This wasn’t just another rescue mission. This was Y/N. His Y/N.

And he was barely holding it together.

They moved through the darkened halls, their flashlights sweeping over scattered debris and abandoned machinery.

The air was thick with the smell of oil and mildew, but there was something else, a faint metallic tang that Tim couldn’t quite place.

It turned his stomach.

“Clear,” Angela said, her voice steady as they swept one room after another.

Tim’s jaw clenched. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and with each empty room, the knot in his chest tightened.

“Over here!” Nolan’s voice cut through the tense silence.

Tim turned, his flashlight catching the glint of something metallic in the corner of the room. A row of barrels.

“No...” he whispered, his legs moving before his brain could catch up.

The closer he got, the stronger the smell became, an acrid mix of chemicals and fear.

He dropped to his knees in front of the nearest barrel, his hands trembling as he pried the lid off.

Empty.

He moved to the next one, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Bradford,” Angela said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No!” he snapped, shaking her off. “I’m not stopping.”

The third barrel was heavier. He could feel it as he pulled at the lid, his muscles straining. And then it came loose.

Tim’s flashlight illuminated the inside, and his entire world shattered.

It was her.

Y/N was curled inside, her body limp, her skin pale and clammy. Her wrists were bound, the rope digging so deeply into her skin that blood had dried in angry, red streaks.

Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling so faintly he almost missed it.

“Y/N!” he choked, dropping his flashlight and reaching in to pull her out.

“Get a medic!” Angela yelled, her voice distant as Tim focused solely on Y/N.

He cradled her against his chest, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. It was there, but weak.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stay with me.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But then her lips parted, and a barely audible whisper escaped.

“Tim...”

Relief surged through him, hot and overwhelming.

“I’m here,” he said, brushing the hair from her face. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Her head lolled against his chest, and he tightened his grip, as if holding her closer could somehow shield her from everything she’d been through.

The paramedics arrived moments later, but to Tim, it felt like hours.

He reluctantly let them take her, his hands still hovering as if afraid she’d disappear if he didn’t keep touching her.

As they loaded her into the ambulance, Angela placed a hand on his shoulder again. This time, he didn’t shrug it off.

“You did good,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer. All he could think about was the sight of her in that barrel, the life nearly drained out of her.

And how he never wanted to feel that kind of fear again.

The first thing I felt was pain, dull, throbbing, and constant pain.

It was everywhere, but especially in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe deeply without it stabbing me from the inside.

My eyes fluttered open, and I was greeted by a blinding white light that made me squeeze them shut again.

I tried to move, but my body protested. My throat was dry, my lips cracked.

“Y/N?”

The voice was soft, deep, and familiar. I forced my eyes open again, squinting, and slowly turned my head toward the sound.

“Tim…” I croaked, barely above a whisper.

He was right there, leaning forward in the stiff hospital chair like he’d been glued to it for hours.

His hands were gripping mine tightly, and his face was a mixture of relief and worry.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough and unsteady.

His eyes softened as they roamed over my face like he couldn’t believe I was actually there.

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“You’re in the hospital,” he said, sitting up straighter. “You’re safe now. We found you.”

The memories started flooding back. The date. The man. Everything.

My heart rate spiked, and the beeping from the monitor beside me quickened.

“The barrel…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Tears stung my eyes as I remembered the cold, the suffocating darkness, and the terror that had gripped me when I thought I’d never get out.

Tim’s hand tightened around mine, grounding me.

“It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he said firmly, his voice laced with a quiet rage.

“I thought… I thought I was going to die,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

Tim’s jaw tightened, and he leaned closer. “You didn’t. You fought, Y/N. You held on long enough for us to get to you. And I swear, nothing like this will ever happen to you again. I won’t let it.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I looked at him.

His face etched with so much emotion that it was hard to believe this was the same Tim Bradford who kept his feelings so close to his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Don’t thank me. Just… promise me you’ll be more careful. No more dates with guys like that.”

I let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a wince. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade.

The drive back to my place was quiet. Tim insisted on taking me home himself after I got discharged.

I didn’t have the energy to argue. My ribs ached with every bump in the road, and the painkillers they’d given me at the hospital were starting to wear off.

When we got to my place, I reached for the door handle, but Tim was faster.

He was already out of the car and opening my door before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt.

“You don’t have to hover, you know,” I said, trying to inject some humor into my voice.

“You’ve barely been out of the hospital for a day,” he shot back, ignoring my attempt to downplay things.

“I’m not taking any chances.”

I didn’t argue. Honestly, I didn’t want to be alone.

Inside, Tim helped me settle on the couch, propping me up with pillows and making sure I had everything within arm’s reach: water, my phone, and even the remote for the TV.

“Comfortable?” he asked, standing in front of me with his arms crossed.

“Yes, officer Bradford,” I teased, giving him a tired smile.

He smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, he disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the faint clatter of dishes.

A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me carefully. “Drink. Doctor’s orders.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you become so domestic?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sitting down in the armchair across from me.

We sat in silence for a while, the tension between us thick and unspoken.

I sipped my tea, glancing at him occasionally, and each time I did, I caught him staring at me like he was afraid I might disappear.

“You know,” I said finally, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”

Tim frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. End of discussion.”

There was a finality in his tone that told me arguing would be pointless. Still, I couldn’t help but ask,

“Why?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest.

“Because I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly.

Something in his voice made my chest tighten. “Tim…”

“I thought I lost you,” he said, cutting me off.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, all the walls he kept so carefully constructed were gone.

“Do you know what it felt like, finding you like that? You were barely breathing, Y/N. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things on this job, but nothing ever scared me like that.”

I set the cup down, my hands trembling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. But I can’t—” He stopped, his voice breaking.

“I can’t go through that again.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice.

“I’m still here, Tim,” I said softly.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “Yeah. You are.”

Later that evening,

The room was quiet, the soft hum of the TV filling the background.

I was cocooned in a blanket, my body still aching, but the dull pain was nothing compared to the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Tim was sitting close, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his presence steady and comforting.

Without thinking, I shifted closer, leaning my head against his shoulder.

It wasn’t intentional, or maybe it was, but it felt natural like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Tim didn’t move. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel him tense slightly under my touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

I lifted my head, glancing at him in confusion. “For what?”

“For everything.” His eyes were fixed on the TV, but he wasn’t really watching it.

“For not seeing the signs. For not protecting you. For letting this happen to you.”

“Tim…” I reached out, placing my hand lightly on his arm.

“You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault.”

He finally turned to look at me, his blue eyes swirling with guilt, and something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put into words.

“That’s not all I’m sorry for.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “What do you mean?”

Tim hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind.

Then, he shifted, turning his body toward me fully. “I’ve been holding something back. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

My heart began to race. I swallowed hard. “Tim…”

He shook his head, cutting me off gently. “Just… let me finish.” He took a deep breath.

“When I saw you in that barrel, when I thought I might lose you, I realized how much I’ve been lying to myself. About you. About us.”

His words hit me like a freight train, and I struggled to find my voice. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He paused, his voice soft but steady.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you for months. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it because I thought it would mess everything up. The job. Us. But after what happened…”

His voice cracked slightly, his vulnerability breaking through. “I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t lose you without you knowing how I feel.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out the noise of the TV, of the world.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I let out a shaky laugh.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” I whispered.

Tim’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I took a deep breath, the words spilling out before I could overthink them.

“I’ve been going on those dates to forget about you.”

His eyes widened, shock flickering across his face. “What?”

“I thought…” My voice cracked, and I looked down at my hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“I thought you’d never feel the same way. I thought if I distracted myself and forced myself to move on, I could stop feeling this way about you. But it never worked. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Tim.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and charged. Then, Tim let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You should’ve told me.”

“I was scared,” I admitted, finally looking up at him.

“Scared of ruining what we have. Scared of losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

He reached up, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Not now. Not ever.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart swelling with relief, with joy, with everything I’d been holding back for so long.

“You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

Slowly, he leaned in, and my breath caught in my throat.

He gave me every opportunity to pull away, to stop him, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to.

When his lips finally met mine, it was soft and tentative at first, as if we were both still testing the waters.

But then it deepened, carrying months of unspoken emotions, of longing, of everything we’d tried so hard to ignore.

When we finally pulled apart, I let out a breathless laugh, leaning my forehead against his.

“That was a long time coming.”

“You’re telling me,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I pulled back slightly to look at him, my expression turning serious. “What happens now?”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm and filled with a rare tenderness.

“Now, we take it one day at a time. No rush. No pressure. But I promise you this: I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears stung my eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief, of happiness.

I smiled, leaning into his embrace as his arms wrapped securely around me.

“I think I can live with that,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I felt more at peace than I had in weeks.

Maybe even months. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew one thing for certain:

We’d face them together.

The end

#kamisreading #tim bradford #the rookie

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kamisobsessed · 1 month ago

Text

omg stop this is so cute

Cuddling Isn’t in the Goddamn Manual

A Soldier Boy Christmas one shot

The snowstorm outside coated the city in a perfect winter wonderland. Streetlights cast a soft glow over the white-blanketed streets, and your apartment felt like a cozy little bubble insulated from the cold chaos beyond. The Christmas tree in the corner glimmered with fairy lights, and the smell of cinnamon cookies mixed with the faint aroma of the hot chocolate you’d just poured for yourself.

Ben—better known to the world as Soldier Boy—was slouched on your couch in full “tough guy” mode. His leather jacket was still zipped halfway up, his boots propped carelessly on the coffee table, and his beer dangling loosely in one hand. The perfect picture of a man who thought he was too cool for comfort.

“You know,” you said as you walked in and set your mug down on the side table, “you could at least take off your jacket and pretend to enjoy yourself. It’s Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t even glance at you, eyes fixed on the TV where some black-and-white holiday classic was playing. “Jacket stays on. Gotta stay ready for action.”

You snorted, flopping down onto the couch beside him. “What action? The reindeer uprising?”

That earned you a side-eye and a faint smirk, but he didn’t dignify it with a response.

“Anyway,” you continued, nudging his knee with your foot, “I was thinking we could cuddle for a bit. You know, really lean into the festive spirit.”

Ben’s laugh was loud and derisive, the kind of laugh that made it clear he thought you’d lost your damn mind. “Cuddling? You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be kidding? It’s Christmas! It’s cold! I’m cute!”

“Yeah, well, cuddling’s not exactly my thing,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “Not manly. Never has been.”

“Oh, please,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re telling me the guy who once hugged a flamethrower like it was his long-lost lover can’t handle a little cuddle?”

“That was different,” he said defensively.

“Uh-huh. Sure it was.” You leaned back dramatically, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. “Fine. Guess I’ll just have to cuddle myself. Or, I don’t know, maybe the throw pillows. They’re softer than you, anyway.”

He scowled, his jaw tightening in that familiar way that meant you were getting under his skin. You knew him too well; you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the way his hand stilled on his beer bottle.

“You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully, scooting a little closer to him. “Look, it’s Christmas Eve. Just one night, Ben. One tiny cuddle. No one’s gonna know, and I promise not to tell anyone you’re secretly a big teddy bear under all that macho posturing.”

He gave you a flat look. “I am not a teddy bear.”

“Sure you’re not,” you teased, poking his arm.

For a moment, you thought he was going to dig in his heels and keep up the act. But then he groaned, setting his beer down on the coffee table with a thud. “Fine. One night. But if you so much as think about telling anyone, I’m gone.”

Your grin was instantaneous and shameless. “Deal.”

Before he could change his mind, you crawled into his lap, making yourself comfortable as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He stiffened at first, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself, but you weren’t worried.

“Relax,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, though his hands slowly settled on your back.

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt him relax, his body softening against yours despite his grumbling. He was warm, solid, and oddly comforting in a way that didn’t match the image he projected to the world.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he said after a while, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

“Of course not,” you said, biting back a laugh. “Just a totally meaningless Christmas cuddle.”

“Damn right.”

The movie played on in the background, the faint sound of holiday music filtering in from the street below. You closed your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you. His hand started tracing slow circles on your back, and you smiled to yourself.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your smile widening. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

And for that one night, Soldier Boy let himself be a little less soldier and a little more boy.

--------------

A/N: A little christmas miracle from soldier boy and from me to you guys.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #jensen ackles #kamisreading

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kamisobsessed · 1 month ago

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this is so cute🥹

TikTok Trouble

Jensen Ackles x Y/N f/reader girlfriend

English isn't my first language.

Did not proof read, mistakes are possible

This amazing idea/ request is from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

'Hi do you think when you get time you could do a story about Jensen finding out his wife or girlfriend reader was making secret TikTok videos about him and his characters and liking others videos on TikTok lol"

Please do not copy my work. likes/sharing/comments are appreciated

The roaring energy of the convention was intoxicating. Jensen was seated on stage alongside Jared, basking in the enthusiastic chatter of their fans. As the Q&A portion unfolded, Jensen caught snippets of laughter and whispers among the audience that left him curious.

A fan with a devilish grin stepped up to the mic, clutching their phone.

“Hi Jensen, hi Jared!” they beamed. “Okay, this is a little different. So Jensen, have you seen Y/N’s TikToks?"

The question hit Jensen like a freight train. His brows knitted together in confusion, his lips parting slightly. “Her TikToks?" he repeated. "Wait…she’s on TikTok? What…what kind of TikToks?"

Jared burst into laughter beside him, throwing his head back as if he’d been holding in the knowledge for weeks. "Oh, man, you haven’t seen them? Dude, they’re hilarious!"

Jensen’s ears flushed a faint shade of red as the fan’s grin widened.

“Um, so Y/N has been making these really fun videos about you and your characters. And also…she, uh, likes edits and stuff that people make of you. She even…” The fan trailed off with a giggle, holding their phone up. “Want me to show you one?”

Jensen leaned forward with intrigue. “You better show me now, because clearly, I’m the last to know!”

The fan swiped through their phone and played a video. On the screen, there was Y/N, subtly filming from the corner of the makeup trailer. Jensen was seated in the chair, half in-character, as the crew styled his hair.

The camera then panned dramatically to him. She overlaid a dog ear and tongue filter and captioned it with: “Who's mommy's good boy, you are! Yeah you are!"

Followed by a video of him in a hydrating mask. "Babe... What are you doing." Jensen asks jokingly "I'm batman."

"Of course babe... I support you!"

The crowd roared with laughter while Jensen’s jaw dropped. He let out a strangled laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh my God, that woman! That…that sneaky…”

Jared, not helping in the slightest, chimed in. “Oh, wait, the best one's coming. Show him the Walker one!”

The fan gleefully skipped to another video. It was Y/N’s most recent post: on the set of Walker, where Jensen had been directing. The video began with a close-up of Jared leaning casually against a truck, all smoldering Texan charm.

“Hot damn!" Y/N narrated jokingly. Jared turned his head, raising an eyebrow, clearly aware of the filming. With a playful grin and exaggerated Texan drawl, he said, “Want to hop in my truck for a ride, sugar?”

Y/N’s laugh echoed through the video as she turned the camera so she could join in. “Hmm, I don’t know, Jared," she teased, tilting her phone to capture more of his smirk. “Think your truck can handle all this?”

Jared leaned closer to her and the camera, his grin widening. “Darlin’, my truck’s seen plenty of rough rides, but you might just be the challenge it’s been waiting for.”

The audience erupted in cheers and laughter, completely eating up the playful banter. Y/N’s laugh rang out in the video again as she panned the camera away from Jared, who was still smirking behind her.

“Nah, I’m saving my ride for that man," she quipped, and the camera panned dramatically over to Jensen, looking sharp as ever in his cowboy attire. As she got closer to him, she joked, “Save a horse, I’ll ride that cowboy," and winked at the camera.

Jensen groaned, burying his face in his hands as Jared cackled beside him. The audience was in hysterics.

“Oh my God, she’s going to be the death of me,” Jensen said, voice muffled from his hands.

“Nah, you love it,” Jared teased, clapping his shoulder. “Just admit it—she’s out there making sure you’re appreciated by the entire internet.”

Jensen straightened, his eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and faux indignation. “Yeah, well, I guess I need to have a talk with my girlfriend about sneaking around on set with her phone.”

The fan couldn’t resist adding, "She’s basically your biggest fan, though! You can’t be mad!"

Jensen smirked, folding his arms. “Oh, I’m not mad. But let’s just say, if she’s going to film me…she better be ready for some payback.”

The fans erupted in cheers, already anticipating the behind-the-scenes TikTok war that was bound to ensue.

Taglist -> Click here to add

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla

@thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss

@muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy

@livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never

@ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf

#kamisreading #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles fluff

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kamisobsessed · 1 month ago

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Fucking hell I'd let Ben ram me any day no regrets

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Square/s filled: dirty talk @jacklesversebingo |

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 3,820

Summary: After being forced to at least wear Santa's hat if not the full costume at the Vought Christmas party, Soldier Boy catches the eye of the alluring assistant from Hero Management. Despite the embarrassment, it just might work out in his favor. Set in mid 70s.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drug use, misogyny, objectification of f!reader, smut: dirty talk, sexual Christmas innuendos, (1) titty slap, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, SB spits in reader's mouth, v fingering, spanking, spit as lube, brief anal play, unprotected sex (reader is on some form of BC, but wrap it up people), couch sex, rough sex, cream pie. I hope that's everything, lmk if there's anything I missed pls!

A/N: Requested by @kamisobsessed, I'm sorry it took so long! I tried getting this done before Xmas but it was a crazy time as you can imagine. Anyway, I hope you like it! This is the most fun I've had writing SB and I just hope that it's worked out well. Happy reading everyone! Unbeta'd.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…

Well that was total horseshit.

It was far from wonderful, especially when the Vought Christmas party came around and all the supes were obligated to attend. Even worse when one of them was forced every year to be Santa for the night, and that year the unnecessary honor had fallen to him. He had never put himself up for the stupid task, so of course he was left to believe that one of the higher ups at the company had whispered it in Hero Management’s ear, and now he had to deal with the embarrassment.

Pushing his hair back, Soldier Boy placed the red velvet hat trimmed with white faux fur back on his head, picking up the glass of Bourbon and throwing it back. He motioned to a waiter for a refill, receiving it from the tray instantly as he placed the empty tumbler back. He had made it clear that if management wanted him to be part of the event then the hat was the only part of the costume he was agreeing to, and knowing they had no place to argue with his status within Vought, they said nothing. He would’ve preferred not to do this, but it seemed a contractual requirement for all of them and there was no way he was risking any income he gained from it.

He was far from a Scrooge; he just wished he could blow off this snooze fest and start his infamous afterparty early.

He watched as guests gathered in groups of three or four, scattered around the huge foyer with drinks in hand. He found himself in brief, random conversations as he moved around the room, everyone wishing him well for the holidays. He always reciprocated the sentiments, but he wasn’t sure he ever meant them. Truthfully, it was the easiest way to get out of conversations.

He just knew he needed to get through another hour or so of this before the real fun could start.

He also knew he was far too sober for this party, the Bourbon not doing enough at this point of the night. He needed a hit and he needed it soon. Excusing himself from a mundane discussion about Vought’s profits, he sauntered through the crowd as he scanned the room for a quiet corner. As his eyes moved over people, they landed on a particular figure, draped in a sequined emerald green, long sleeve dress. It hit the floor, the high slit giving him a glimpse of a gold platform heel as it ascended up her smooth leg to the upper thigh, with a deep v-neckline down the valley of her chest making him practically salivate as he saw the curve of her breast.

The outfit along with the sultry, smokey make-up would’ve made her completely unrecognizable if he didn't see her face everyday as an assistant to Hero Management. The way she looked was a far cry from the powersuits and pencil skirts he was used to seeing on her, her usual attire work appropriate but also hiding her best assets. Though the skirts did a lot of her ass when he couldn’t help but watch her bend over to pick up something.

He continued to watch her as she chatted with some guy from the department, unable to think of his name when all he could think about was how to get her out of that dress. Luckily she gave the guy a small nod before he left, finishing off the last drops of champagne in the coupe glass. He waved a waiter over who was carrying a tray of champagne, telling him to take it over to her. He observed her as she smiled softly, accepting the drink as the waiter no doubt told her it was from him like he asked him to. Her gaze drifted over the guests, locking with his instantly. He tipped his glass at her before he took a sip of the amber liquid, a smirk pulling at his lips as her bottom one tucked between her teeth. This was going to be too easy.

Slowly, with that intimidating gait of his, he crossed the room towards her. She glanced behind before she began to walk away, looking over her shoulder invitingly as she climbed up the staircase to the second floor of the grand foyer into a corner out of the party’s vantage point. She situated herself in front of one of the big windows overlooking the city’s sparkling lights, pulling out a silver cigarette case from her purse, along with her light. She placed one between her red stained lips, lighting up. She blew the plume of smoke out with a tilt of her head, but her eyes remained on him as he loomed closer.

“Got another one of those?” he asked as he stopped a few inches from her.

Offering him one and handing over her lighter, she watched as he lit it and took a long drag, blowing out the large puff. Her gaze remained on him but drifted up, letting out a small huff of a laugh at the Santa hat adorning his head.

“How’d they manage to convince you to do that?”

He shrugged as he leaned against the railing, facing her. “It’s the only thing I agreed to.”

“Not one for Christmas, huh?” she pondered.

“Oh, I got plenty of Christmas spirit in me, sugar,” he smirked. “Just ask, and you can find out how much.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s not gonna happen, Ben.”

“I saw that look in your eye when you walked over here, Y/N,” he stated, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied, taking a sip of champagne.

He grinned. “That’s cute, doll, but you’re not fooling me. I bet there’s a mess between your legs that says otherwise.”

She felt her inner walls clench at his words, a heat pooling in her core. With another pull from the cigarette, she met his eyes. “If there was… what would you do about it?”

He leaned in closer, his green orbs roaming over her features. “Depends on whether you’ve been a good girl this year.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “What if I haven’t?”

“Well, you might have to take Santa’s big candy cane down that tight throat,” he suggested, smirking as he wiggled his eyebrows.

She giggled slightly, a combination of nerves, arousal and amusement. “Seems a little selfish. It’s the season of giving, you know.”

“Season of giving you my dick, maybe,” he whispered, their faces close.

She snorted, biting her lip as she felt herself close to giving into him. “You’re really committed to this bit.”

“So, what do you say we get outta this fucking pathetic excuse of a party and you can take a little ride to the North Pole,” he husked, staring into her eyes. “Or let me come down your chimney?”

“You’re insane,” she whispered, shaking her head.

He found his smile widening despite her words. He never let anyone speak to him like that and was always quick to lay down his authority over them, but considering he could see her resolve slipping with each word, each nervous breath that escaped her as he moved closer to her, he let it slide. They had spoken a handful of times over the years, he had even flirted because that came naturally to him, but this was the first time he got a proper reaction from her. He had to wonder if she kept her true thoughts hidden just like her work attire kept her from showing off everything he could see now in front of him.

Y/N observed him for a moment, thinking about what he was implying. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew what he and other supes got up to after hours. That was part of the job in Hero Management anyway: damage control for the talent. She had always been curious about what they did, especially when gossip would circulate around the office for a few hours before everyone knew they had to shut up and keep up appearances. She brought the glass in her hand to her lips, tilting her head back as she skulled the rest of the drink, putting out her cigarette in it. Her decision was made.

“Lead the way.”

He chuckled as he did the same with his Bourbon, dropping his cigarette into the tumbler. Taking both of her glasses in one hand and linking his other arm with hers, he guided her down the stairs, leaving the glasses on the bottom one as they walked out of the room. They moved down the hallway to the elevator, waiting for it to stop after he pressed the button. As soon as it opened, he pulled her in, pressing the button for the 40th floor. She breathed in deeply, letting it slow as she tried to calm herself down. He looked down at her, smirking as he reached into the pocket of his suit and taking out a small box. He saw the way she watched him like a hawk as he took off his glove, flipped the lid open, tapped some of the white powder along his fist and brought it up to his nose. He sniffed as he threw his head back, repeating the process with his other nostril before he peered back at her. Her gaze shifted between him and the box, a silent question in her eyes. He lifted an eyebrow as he tapped the substance onto his fist again, holding it closer to her. Nervously, she leaned down and snorted the powder, pinching her nose as she stood up straight, feeling the itching burn. Recovering quickly, she took another hit from the opposite side before she could hesitate.

“I… I don’t feel anything,” she muttered a moment later.

He guffawed, leaning down as their lips hovered close to each other. “Give it a minute, doll.”

His mouth crashed onto hers as he pulled her roughly against him, a surprised gasp escaping her as she grabbed onto his shoulders. The elevator dinged as the doors opened to the floor, and they stumbled out, clumsily making it down to his loft apartment. He threw the door open as they remained in a lip lock, pushing her up against the wood just as he shut it, her purse falling at her feet. Her hands struggled to hold onto him, her fingers slipping against the fabric as his arms wrapped tighter around her, his growing erection trapped under the material of his pants as he rubbed against her. His plump lips moved along hers, their tongues meeting in a searing kiss before he ripped his mouth away and left a trail down her jaw, biting and sucking at her neck as he continued to drift down. He licked down the deep opening of her dress, his hand coming up and peeling the fabric to the side to give him access to the swell of her breast. A loud moan escaped her as he sucked the stiff peak into his mouth, roughly circling his tongue over it.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, feeling a new sensation joining what he was doing to her. It was something she had never felt before, completely foreign to her before she realized the drug was kicking in.

He let go of the pebbled bud with a wet pop, looking into her eyes as he grinned. “There it is.”

Taking her hands in his, he dragged her away from the door and further into the apartment near the living area. He yanked the other side of her dress to display her whole chest to him, palming the soft tits. His thumb flicked over her nipples, her eyes widening as she whimpered. The sound cut off in her throat before she let out a stunned moan as he lifted both his hands and smacked them down over both breasts, holding onto him so she didn’t fall back from the unexpected feeling it gave her. Her flesh was tingling, a painful sting that turned into pleasurable as it moved in waves through her whole body.

“On your knees,” he ordered, his eyes darkened as he gazed down at her.

She did as she was told, knees on the hardwood floors as the split of her dress fell open and her thick heels dug into the back of her thighs. She watched as he reached down and unzipped his pants, his ungloved hand taking out his hardened length, stroking it slowly. A choked whimper left her as she saw how big he was, the tip red and leaking pre-cum, making her mouth water. Without missing a beat, she leaned forward, dropping her saliva along the length of his cock, softly sucking at the head. She took him in deeper, a soft choke escaping her as it pressed against the back of her throat. She pulled back slightly before sinking her mouth down, building a steady pace, bobbing her head back and forth, circling her tongue around the tip every time she drew back.

“Fuck, doll, that’s it,” he groaned, staring down at her. “Look at me, I wanna see those pretty eyes while you enjoy Santa’s treat for ya.”

A long moan vibrated against his shaft as she gazed up at him, continuing to take him down her throat. He smirked as he saw her dilated pupils, glassy as tears gathered with each swipe of her tongue over his cock. With his gloved hand, he fisted the strands of her hair and held her still, thrusting his hips back and forth swiftly, his length hitting the back of her mouth over and over and making her gag lightly. He pulled her back with the strands, a harsh gasp leaving her as her lungs burned, breathing heavily. He growled as he leaned forward, a thick glob of his spit collecting before he spat into her open mouth and brought her head back down. She didn’t think something like that could arouse her, but it did and she had no time to question as she sucked at his pulsing girth. The glugging sound grew louder as he continued to fuck her mouth, saliva collecting at the corners of her lips. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the pressure built in her throat, causing her mascara and glittery eyeshadow to run.

“Taking my dick so good, sugar,” he husked, gripping her locks tight. “Spread your legs, want you drippin’ and ready for me…”

She opened her legs, the high split giving her better access as she reached into her black, lace panties and found the bundle of nerves. She could feel how wet she already was, but worked her fingers over her clit regardless as his cock slid between her lips. He groaned as he felt her lips close tighter around him, her eyes fluttering as her hand picked up the pace between her thighs.

“Not so fast,” he said, glaring down at her. “You don’t get to cum yet.”

He stepped back and his length slipped out of her mouth, causing her to breath heavily as she stared up at him. He leaned down and fit his hands under her arms, lifting her up and walking back towards the couch. He turned her around, bending her over the arm of the leather sofa and kicked her legs apart. He reached down and pushed her dress aside, his hands moving over the curve of her ass. He tugged roughly at her panties, the seams giving as he ripped the fabric, tossing it on the floor. A shocked moan left her as she tried to look back at him, biting her lip as she felt him grip her flesh tightly, spreading the globes of her ass. His thumbs stroked over the lips of her pussy, a deep groan vibrating in his chest as her arousal dripped over his digits.

“Knew you were fucking hiding something special under those pantsuits,” he stated, his voice low and gravelly. “This is one gorgeous little pussy you got here, doll. I think she’s ready to be filled with my Christmas spirit.”

His hand smoothed over her skin before he lifted it, striking it down hard. A sound somewhere between a squeak and a moan fell from her lips, it coming out once more as he spanked her again, a little firmer. Just as before, the pain gave way to pleasure as the warmth tingled from the spot where he struck her to the rest of her body. He stood behind her, bending slightly as he dropped a long line of saliva from his mouth onto her folds, rubbing it with his fingers and pressing the tip of his cock at her entrance. A smirk pulled at his lips as his thumb moved up to tease the puckered hole, dipping into the tight ring a little just as he plunged deep into her.

Y/N moaned loudly as he instantly set a brutal pace, her walls clenching around him as thrusted out and back in, moving deeper within her. Her long, red nails dug into the leather of the couch cushion, trying to hold herself up on shaky arms as her whole body shuddered from the impact of his thrusts. He pounded into her, the slap of skin and their sounds of erotic bliss a cacophony that echoed around the room. He grinned as he looked down, hearing the wet squelch of her pussy taking his cock, her arousal turning thicker and whiter as her moans grew louder with each stroke.

“Such a needy little slut, doll. Desperate for me to stuff your stocking, huh?” he asked, chuckling lightly.

She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. “Y-Yes! Need it-”

“I know, sugar, I know. Just need to prove how good you are, don’t ya?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, emphasizing it with a small nod. She had a slight coherence that she probably sounded pathetic at that moment, but she couldn’t care about it when he was making her feel this way.

He laughed harder, almost mockingly. “But you know, a pussy that’s as wet, as tight, as needy as yours… always comes from the naughty list.”

He slammed into her, her eyes flying open as she felt him stretching her walls more, his impressive girth and length reaching places inside she didn’t even think existed. It was overwhelming, the sensation that coursed through along with the drug she had taken. It was too much and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on.

“Oh, fuck, it’s-it’s so deep,” she moaned, her forehead pressing into the couch. “I-I can’t-”

“Oh, I think you can, doll. Can feel this tight little hole stretching around me, so good at taking my cock,” he husked, emphasizing his words with a powerful smack against her ass.

She shrieked, glancing back at him as she panted. “Ben, please. I need-I need to cum.”

A heat pooled low in her core, feeling her muscles tighten as she grew closer to that inevitable climax, one she already knew would be her undoing in many ways. Now that she had been with him, felt this erotic display of his sheer power, could she ever go back to normal after this?

“You’re almost there, aren’t ya, sugar?” he muttered, squeezing her asscheek. “Wanna see you soak my dick, make a mess on me…”

“So-so close!” she exclaimed, gripping the cushions under for dear life.

He smirked as his pelvis slapped against the curve of her ass, loving the way her walls clenched around him. He felt his cock throbbing inside her, his own imminent release making his hips falter. He leaned over her, his lips close to her ear as a smug smile graced his lips.

“You gonna let me cum inside you, doll? Fill up your stocking with a big present from Santa’s sack?” he whispered, the timbre of his voice rough.

With those words and another thrust of hips, a euphoric wave washed over her as the dam broke, his name ripped from her throat in a wanton cry. Her wetness dripped out of her and around his cock, running down his balls as he gripped her hips tight. He pounded into her once, twice more before his cock pulsed, his neck straining back with a strangled grunt escaping him as long spurts of his cum coated her walls.

Y/N breathed heavily, a soft whine coming from her at the loss of him inside her, turning on wobbly legs to see him tucking himself back inside in his pants. He zipped up and straightened the top of his suit, their eyes meeting when he glanced at her. She smiled softly, moving her hand between her legs and letting out a small sigh at the way his cum dripped out of her. She gathered some of it on her fingers, bringing it to her lips and swiping her tongue across them, moaning at his musky taste.

“Thanks for a white Christmas,” she quipped.

He chuckled, plucking the Santa hat off his head and throwing it on the floor, stroking a hand through his locks. “Pleasure’s all mine, doll.”

She bit her lip as she straightened up, fixing her dress back into place but remained still as she waited for the feeling to return to her legs before she tried walking in her heels again. She eyed him as he took that little box again, catching her looking at him as he waved the little tin at her.

“You know, the afterparty’s about to start in another hour,” he started, sauntering over to her. Peering down into her eyes, he grinned as he raised his eyebrows. “It’ll pass a lot quicker if you’re up for round two.”

“And then you kick me out before the real fun starts?” she jested, resting her hand on his chest.

He shook his head, slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Didn’t say anything about you leaving, sugar.”

Her lips pulled up as she felt her cheeks heat up, looking down as he offered her his hand. She slipped her smaller one into his, letting him pull her into his side as he walked out of the living area. His hand left hers and moved up her back, finding the zipper of her dress and pulling it down completely. His lips were instantly at the back of her neck as he guided her towards the bedroom, neither of them ready to come up for air any time soon. In fact, it would be the early hours of the next morning when she’d eventually leave, both of them euphoric and unable to come down from the high of the party, the drugs and the mind blowing orgasms.

Maybe he was wrong all along.

Maybe it really was the most wonderful time of the year.

#kamisreading #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy ben #jensen ackles #soldier boy smut

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kamisobsessed · 1 month ago

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i love this series so much🥹🥰

Unspoken Words pt 5

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, other characters

Warnings: fluff, illness, mild language

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there. The daughter character is near and dear to my heart. I have someone very close to me who is nonverbal, but he’s such an amazing kid.

This chapter got a bit long, but it’s worth it. So much happens in this part. I think it’s one of my favorite parts so far. Enjoy.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Jensen is single in this story.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

The next morning we woke up in each other’s arms to the sounds of giggles coming from the foot of the bed. We looked up and saw Lily sitting on the floor, playing with her stuffies. She must have woken up and came into my room, but because Jensen was there she didn’t crawl in the bed like she typically does.

Jensen smiled at me and I at him, “Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” I snuggled closer in his arms, inhaling his scent and smiled, “Amazing.” “Good, me too.” He lifted my face and kissed my lips.

Lily came around to my side of the bed and tugged on me. I turned towards her, Jensen’s arms still lazily lying around my waist. “Good morning, Lily. Are you hungry?” “Eat, please” I smiled, “Okay, baby. Let mommy get up and I’ll cook you something.”

I started to get out of the bed and Jensen pulled me back down. I fell back into him and laughed, “Jensen, I need to get up.” “Not yet, not until you give me a proper kiss.”

I blushed, turned towards him and we kissed. All the unspoken love and the emotions from the past few days poured into the kiss.

I climbed out of bed and walked into the kitchen. I started the coffee pot and grabbed the bacon and eggs from the fridge. I pulled the toaster out from under the counter and when I got back up Jensen was standing behind me.

I jumped, “Jeez, Jensen. You scared the heck out of me. You’re like a stealthy mouse.” He laughed, “They do call me squirrel.” He winked and grabbed a coffee cup. “Need some help, baby?”

“Sure, if you want to start the bacon. Lily likes it crispy, but not too crispy.” He nodded and started cooking. The two of us moved around the kitchen like a synchronized dance. It felt perfect.

The first batch of bacon was done and Jensen asked how it was. I grabbed a piece to test it, “Hmmm, I don’t know Ackles. I might have found something you’re not good at.” I ate the bacon and laughed.

He knew I was joking. He grabbed me around my waist, and spun me around. “Oh really? If it’s that bad I guess I need to kiss the taste out of your mouth.” “Yes please, it’s horrible” I exaggerated my words.

He started kissing my lips and then down my neck. The sound of our laughter and me squealing filled the kitchen. Without thinking I wiggled around and faced him, breathless I kissed his lips, “I love you.”

I froze. “Jensen I’m sorry. It just came out.” He cupped my face, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay with it. I promise. I love seeing you happy.”

I looked at him and nodded. I am in love with him, and want to say it all the time, but I also don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

We continued cooking, and Jensen kept up the playful banter. It helped and made me feel better. I really didn’t want a repeat of last night. When he finished the bacon I sent him to relax in the living room.

Lily had moved to playing on the floor. Jensen sat on the couch and scrolled on his phone. I grabbed my phone to send Sarah a text and let her know what’s going on with me.

Me: Hey girl! I have updates! How are you?

Sarah: Hey! I have updates too, you go first. How’s my Lily girl? How’s Jensen?

Me: She’s doing great. He stayed last night. We had sex, it was amazing..Like REALLY amazing, then I almost screwed it up and told him I loved him.

Sarah: Wait, you what?! You told him you loved him?! That's huge girl? Did he say it back? What did he say? Oh, and girl I NEED details. 😉

Me: He didn’t say it back. In fact he left afterwards, but he came back. He said he was scared, and I understand. We talked when he came back and now we are making breakfast. So, how’s things going with Steve?

Sarah: Steve is great. Perfect gentleman and our date went great. We ended up back at his place.

Me: Did you two have sex?! 👀

Sarah: No, not yet, but that’s partly because we didn’t have protection. 😂

Me: Girl….I don’t want a niece or nephew right now. You better be safe.

Sarah: Always. Give my love to Lily. I gotta run. Steve and I are heading into a store. Love you, Y/N.

Me: I will. Have fun, and I love you too.

“Lily, go wash up. Breakfast is ready.” I called from the kitchen. Jensen stood and stretched. Revealing the bottom of his torso and showing me the soft skin of his navel. I bit my lip thinking about last night. My body still tingled.

We sat down to eat and I noticed Lily was devouring her bacon. “Lily, honey. Is the bacon that good?” I chuckled. All she said was, “mmm”.

“Well, baby, Jensen cooked it today. He did good, didn’t he?”

Lily stopped eating, looked at her plate and then up at Jensen. She climbed out of her chair and walked over to him.

She stood by his chair and he moved back a bit. Lily walked up to him, placed her hand on his chest and looked at him. I looked at Jensen and he looked at me. I’d never seen her do this before, so I was confused about what she was doing.

With her hand on his chest, she looked up at him and said, “Love Jensen.” I gasped and so did he. He scooped her up and held her tightly. Kissing the top of her head. Tears fell heavy and fast from my eyes.

“Wow, looks like both my girls love me. I am one lucky man.” His eyes flicked to mine and then down at Lily. She snuggled into his arms, “I love you too, Lily, and (he turned towards me) I love you too.”

My breath hitched. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. She let him go and wiggled out of his arms, climbing back in her chair to finish eating.

Jensen took the opportunity to walk over to me. He took my hands in his and pulled me up to him. “Jensen, you didn’t have to say it.” “I know, sweetheart. I wanted to, because I mean it. I love you and Lily so much. Being with you two is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I love you, Y/N. I’m still scared, but I know we are in this together.”

A few tears slipped out and Jensen wiped them away with his thumb, “Don’t cry baby. Please. Hearing you say you love me last night and hearing that sweet girl say it made me realize just how precious and rare what we have is. I’m all in baby, for as long as you’ll have me.

I leaned into his chest, “How does forever sound, Jens?” He chuckled, kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Perfect”.

Jensen and I fell into a comfortable rhythm over the next few weeks. Lily talked some, but mostly around or to Jensen.

I had just gotten home from work and Sarah was bringing Lily home later. I jumped in the shower and changed into something more comfortable. Steve and Jensen were coming over dinner and a movie night. Sarah and I were cooking and I was baking dessert.

Sarah and Steve were spending more and more time together and I could tell she was completely smitten by Steve. I had already told him if he hurt her I would make sure he was never able to have children. Jensen roared when I told him that. Steve looked genuinely scared, Sarah was embarrassed.

Dinner and the movie went great. Steve and Jensen chatted in the living room while Sarah and I went into the kitchen. Lily was in her favorite spot, on Jensen’s lap.

“Y/N, Steve invited me back to his place tonight. I’m so nervous.” I smiled, “It’s going to be fine. Just make sure you do what you’re comfortable with, and don’t feel any pressure.” Steve said that too. It’s just been so long since I, well, you know. I don’t want to be bad at it and it ruins what Steve and I have.” “Sarah, I promise it won’t be bad. The first time with someone new is always awkward, but you two will figure it out.” We were hugging when Steve and Jensen walked in the room. “Wow, we let them out of our sight for one minute and we’re already been replaced.” Jensen said laughing. I playfully rolled my eyes, “Nobody can replace her.” I smirked and kissed his lips.

Steve looked at Sarah, “Are you ready to head out?” He asked softly. She nodded and hugged me. When I pulled her close I whispered, “You’ve got this, and details later.” I squeezed her tight and let her go.

After Steve and Sarah left Jensen and I snuggled on the couch. “She’s good for him, you know?” Jensen broke the silence. “I hope so. She’s like a sister to me. I can’t stand the thought of her being hurt.”

Jensen turned me towards him, “Hey, baby. I promise. He was telling me tonight how much he really likes her. They were heading back to his place tonight. If I’m being honest I was surprised they hadn’t already had sex.” My eyes went wide, “What? Why?” Jensen chuckled, “Hey, relax. It’s not what you think. I just know how much Steve likes her.”

“Well, she really likes him too. I hope tonight is great for both of them.”

Jensen chuckled softly, “Well, maybe we should head to bed ourselves. I’ve got a couple ideas on how to make tonight great for both of us.”

“Just a couple? You’re slipping Ackles.” He kissed me and pulled me to the bedroom.

The next morning we woke up to Lily jumping on the bed. Jensen rolled over and moved so Lily could climb in between us. “Lily, baby. Mama needs more sleep. It’s too early.” “Mama, up.”

I tried to pull the blanket over my head but she kept pulling it down. “Fine, I’m up.” Jensen chuckled and stretched. The three of us made our way out to the kitchen.

Jensen made coffee while I fixed a bowl of cereal for Lily. I was about to ask Jensen what he wanted to eat, but he started coughing hard and I looked at him. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Yeah, guess I have a little tickle in my throat.” He coughed again and my brow scrunched.

I handed him a bottle of water and he nodded, drinking it.

By the afternoon I could tell Jensen was feeling bad.

“Jens, are you sure you’re okay? You look like you don’t feel good.”

“Yeah. I am feeling a little bit bad. I’ll be fine.”

“Jensen, I think you’re sick.” I took his temperature, much to his dismay and he had a fever.

I grabbed him some medicine and some water. “You need to rest. Go to bed and I’ll be in there in a minute.”

“Sweetheart, I should go home if I’m sick. Lily hasn’t been out of the hospital long. I don’t want to make her sick.”

“You won’t. It’s my job to take care of you. I’d like to think I’m your girlfriend, even if we haven’t made it official.”

Jensen smiled and cupped my face, “You’re definitely more than that, baby.”

I smiled and kissed his forehead, “Good, now bed.”

He smirked, “Yes ma’am.” Jensen crawled back in the bed and I went to check on Lily.

“Sweetie, Jensen isn’t feeling good so he’s in bed. We have to do our best to keep it down so he can rest.”

Her eyes flicked up at me and filled with concern. She climbed off the couch and ran to my bedroom.

“Lily, honey. Come back.” Before I could stop her she was standing in the bedroom. “Lily, come on. Let Jensen rest.”

Tears filled her eyes. Jensen saw her and it broke his heart, “Hey baby girl. I’m okay. Just a little cold.”

He held his arms out and pulled her in for a hug. She crawled on the bed and sat beside him.

“Lily, come on.” I tried to get her to leave but she just snuggled down into the bed.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Jensen chuckled, “I can’t imagine where she got her stubborn streak from. She’s okay. I promise.”

I sighed, “Fine Lily, but you have to let him sleep.” She giggled. “I knew you two were gonna be trouble together. She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Since the day we met, right Lily?” Jensen laughed wearily.

I went back into the living room, grabbed her stuffies and other things. When I walked back into the room the two of them were watching Supernatural together.

Lily kept looking at Dean on the tv and then back to Jensen. Her smile grew wide.

“Of course you two are watching this.” I laughed as I handed Lily her things.

“Do you need anything?” I asked as I placed my hand on Jensen’s forehead.

“Maybe my other girl snuggled beside me too.” “As much as I’d love to, I need to clean the house and do some laundry. I’ll be back soon to check on you two. Holler if you need anything.” I placed a kiss on his forehead and left.

A few hours later and 2 loads of laundry I snuck in to check on Jensen and Lily. I found them both asleep. Lily snuggled to Jensen and his arm draped over her. I couldn’t help but snap a picture.

My heart was so full looking at them. I crept back to the living room and finished folding the laundry.

Lily woke up and wiggled out from the bed and came into the room with me.

“Hey baby. Did you have a good nap?” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bedroom, pointing at Jensen.

I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but I stepped closer to him. Soft snores left his slightly parted lips.

Lily took my hand and placed it on Jensen. He was soaked. I knew what she was telling me.

I picked her up and took her out of the room. “He’s okay baby. He’s sweating because his fever is gone. I promise he’s okay.”

Lily stayed in the living room with me while Jensen slept. A few hours later he was awake and feeling a bit better. I told him what Lily did and he smiled.

“Look at that. My Lily girl made the fever go away. Thank you baby girl.”

She smiled. When he started coughing again she looked worried.

Lily left the room quickly. “Wonder where she’s going.” I said.

She came back with her moose and squirrel and handed them to Jensen. He smiled. “For me to get better?” She nodded. “Love dada.”

I gasped. “Did she just..” my voice trailed off. Jensen smiled, “yeah she did.”

“Jensen, I’m sorry. I…uh…” I started to panic. Everything was happening so fast I was afraid it would scare him off.

“Hey, Y/N. Take a deep breath. It’s okay.” I took a deep, shaky breath.

“Besides, I kinda like the sound of that.”

Over the next week Jensen got better. He’d split his time between my house and his. We’d talked about Lily and I spending nights at his house so today the three of us were heading to pick out some things for Lily’s room at Jensen’s. He wanted her to be comfortable and was willing to get her whatever she wanted for her room.

“Jensen, please don’t go overboard. She’ll be perfectly happy with a bed and dresser.”

Jensen chuckled, “I promise I won’t go overboard.” He got a devilish look on his face and I knew I was in trouble.

The three of us loaded up the car and Jensen headed towards the furniture store he frequented.

Walking in I gasped softly. “Jensen, I can already tell this place is going to be out of my budget.”

He stepped closer to me, “Not out of mine.” He kissed my lips and scooped Lily up and walked towards the kids section.

I laughed, shook my head and followed them. A sales associate approached Jensen and I, “Is there anything particular you two are looking for?” She asked.

Jensen pointed at Lily, “Whatever she wants.” She looked over at Lily and nodded.

Lily walked around and Jensen was close by. I hung back and looked around too. I found a cute little bed, simple and perfect. Then I heard Lily squeal.

My attention was instantly focused on her. She’d found a bed that looked like Cinderella’s carriage. There was a matching side table and dresser. The canopy sparkled under the showroom lights.

The sales associate walked over and started talking to Jensen. “Seems like your little girl really likes this bed.”

He chuckled then looked over at me then back to Lily. “Yeah. I think so too.”

I stepped closer and I shook my head. “Jensen, this is too much. She doesn’t need a princess bed.”

He walked over and sat beside her on the bed. “Yes she does, because she’s my princess. Isn’t that right Lily?”

She snuggled close to him. “I’m going to lose this argument, aren’t I?”

He nodded, “Yep.”

I sighed and shook my head. “If you say so. I still think it’s too much.”

He kissed my lips, “Nothing will ever be too much for her or you.” I smiled and kissed him back, “Just try not to spoil her too much.” “No promises, darlin’.”

Jensen paid for the bedroom set, a new mattress and delivery. He ordered the full size bed instead of the twin because Lily loved snuggles and it’s easier with a bigger bed.

Before we left a few fans approached him and he took pictures and signed autographs.

This was the first time I’d been with him since the convention where he was noticed.

Getting into the car Jensen took my hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I think that was a successful shopping trip, don’t you?”

I nodded. He knew something was wrong. “Baby, you okay?” “Yeah, it’s still just strange being out in public with you and people approach you. I guess I need to get used to it.

He nodded in understanding, “I know. It can be a bit much, but I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

We pulled back up to Jensen’s house and went in. Lily ran to play in the living room while Jensen and I went to the room that was going to be Lily’s.

“Jensen, this room is huge.” “Nothing but the best for my girl. So I’m thinking of an area rug so she’s not sitting directly on the floor. This floor gets chilly. I’ll take care of all of it. The bedroom set will be here in a few days, so I’ll get my designer here to pick out the rug and other things for the room.”

I just smiled and nodded. I knew it was pointless to argue. I kissed his lips softly, “You’re amazing, you know that.” He smirked, “I’ve been told a time or two.”

We cleaned out the room and as I was sweeping the floor Jensen’s phone rang. “Hey, I’ll be back. I’ve got to take this.” I nodded and kept cleaning.

When he came back into the room he let out a deep sigh. “Hey, we need to talk.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounded in my chest, “Sure, what’s going on Jensen?” “Well, a couple of things actually. That was my manager. Apparently someone took pictures of us today and posted them online. Lily’s face was hidden, so that’s good, but your face was not.”

“Oh, so is your manager telling you to break up with me?” Jensen’s eyes went wide, “What?! No, they just wanted to let me know and wanted to see if I wanted to make a statement about us. That’s what I wanted to ask you, if you were okay with going public or not yet.”

I sighed and let out the breath I was holding. “Um, I’m okay with whatever you want to do Jensen. This is all so new to me. I don’t want to mess your job up, so I will let you decide. I’m okay with whatever you think is best.”

“Well, going public or keeping our relationship to ourselves right now have their advantages and disadvantages. If we go public we don’t have to sneak around, but that means your face and name will be in public, and unfortunately at the mercy of some nasty people at times. If we keep this between us, then we continue to keep things private, so not going out as much, and your name stays out of public. If we keep things private that means I attend events and parties alone, and if I’m being honest I don’t want that.”

I took a deep breath, “Let’s do it, Jensen. Let’s go public. I’m terrified, but I know you’re going to be by my side the whole time.” Jensen stepped closer to me and pulled me close, his lips ghosting mine, “You better believe it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“So, what was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?” He took a shaky breath, “Well, they bumped up my shooting schedule for one of the series I’m working on. I have to leave next week for California.”

My heart sank, I got so used to him being at home I almost forgot he worked away from home. “I get it, you’ve got to go when they want you to. Lily and I will miss you like crazy, but we’ll be here waiting for you. Just promise you’ll FaceTime us. I don’t know if I can go long without seeing your handsome face.”

He smiled at me, “Yeah, I promise. I’ll call and FaceTime every single day.”

The two of us walked into the living room and found Lily coloring and drawing. “You know, the hardest part is going to be telling her you’re leaving. She might try to hide in your suitcase.” We both laughed, but I was worried about her.

“Well, what if we don’t have to tell her I’m leaving?” I looked at him confused, “Jensen, she’s going to realize you’re gone. Even if she can’t talk she’s going to feel your absence.” “No, what I mean is why don’t you two go with me?” “What?” “Yeah, Y/N, you and Lily go to California with me. When I’m not on set the three of us can explore the area and I can take my girls out in LA.”

“Really? You want us to go with you?” He nodded enthusiastically, “Yes!” “Well, I’d have to talk to my boss, but I don’t see why not. I think she’d love that. I know I would.”

He pulled me flush to his body and kissed my lips, “I’d like it too, sweetheart.”

The next few days we went about our normal lives. Jensen told his manager he was going to go public with our relationship, but he would do it his way. They agreed. Lily was sitting in between Jensen and I on the couch when there was a knock at the front door.

I got up to answer it, looking out the peephole I gasped. Jensen was by my side quickly, “What’s wrong?” “Um, it’s David. Lily’s father.”

“What the hell does he want?” “I don’t know. I haven't seen him since I found out I was pregnant. What should I do?”

“Go ahead and open the door. I’m right here, baby.” I nodded and opened the door. He smirked when I opened the door, “Hey Y/N. Long time. What's it been, 7 years?” “David, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you on Instagram. I see you went ahead and had the baby. I’m here to meet my daughter.”

I scoffed, “Your daughter?! Where the hell have you been the past 7 years of her life?! She’s not your daughter, she’s mine.” I practically growled.

He looked past me and saw Lily on the couch, “Hey sweetie, it’s daddy. Why don’t you come say hello.” Lily wouldn’t look at him.

Jensen stood between us, “I think you should leave.” “Who are you, pretty boy?” Jensen’s jaw tightened, “I’m the one that’s been here with Y/N and her daughter. Like I said, I think you should leave.”

“Not happening until I meet my daughter.” “David, please leave. You’re going to upset Lily. She doesn’t do well with strangers. If you even care about her a little bit you’ll leave.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t do well around strangers? I’m not a stranger. I’m her father. Lily, come here baby. Come to daddy.”

I could see Jensen’s jaw get tighter. Lily ran to Jensen’s leg and grabbed him. “Dada up.”

David looked at me and then Jensen, “What’s wrong with her?” “She’s autistic, David and doesn’t talk much. Please leave.”

“Wow, what did you do to her that caused this?” Tears fell from my eyes, “I didn’t do anything, she was born this way you asshole.”

Lily buried her face in Jensen’s neck and clung tightly to him. Jensen stepped between David and I, “Let me ask you something. If you're her father then tell me when is her birthday? What about her favorite TV show, color? How does she like her bacon? What’s her favorite stuffy? A REAL father would be able to answer all of that. You aren’t her father, you’re just the man who knocked up her mother and then left. Now, I’m not going to ask you again to leave.”

David scoffed, “You know what, you can have both of them. I never wanted her and she’s just an easy lay. Good luck with her.” He turned on his heels and walked away.

I closed the door and let out the breath I was holding and the tears fell. Lily clung to Jensen, “My daddy.” “Yes, baby. I’m your daddy and I love you beyond the stars.”

“Speaking of which, Y/N, let’s make that announcement now. I’m ready if you are.” I nodded. He picked a picture he took of us, both of us looking at the camera and smiling, and another picture of us kissing. “Are these two okay with you?” I smiled and nodded, “Perfect, Jensen.”

He posted both photos to Instagram, tagging me, and captioned it with: I can’t believe I get to call you mine. I love you beyond the stars, Y/N. Now and forever. 🥰 💗

When my phone went off I smiled and commented: “You better believe it. Now and forever, Jens.”

He smiled, looked at me and kissed my lips. “There, now there is no mistaking who my heart belongs to. I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Jensen.”

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #kamisreading

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kamisobsessed · 1 month ago

Text

Every single one of her fics and one shots are soooo good!!

About Me!

Thea, She/Her, 20, unfortunately American. I write what I feel like, for better or worse. That usually means long (very long) series, but sometimes it means one-shots or mini-series.

If you want to be added to/removed from a taglist, please click here!

For rules about requests, click here!

For my masterlist, keep reading!

Series

No Love Lost - Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Three years ago you were normal, but then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Babylon the Great - Dean Winchester x Reader

There's something wrong with you that's not wrong with other people. You're a hunter, and a damn good one, but you might be a monster.

There might be something in you that needs to be put down. Something broken that can't be fixed.

It's why you've had one rule your whole life. The only thing your father has ever made clear is that, no matter what, you need to stay away from John Winchester. He can't even know you exist, or he'll kill you and never blink.

And when your paths cross a hunt, you should've run, but you didn't. You couldn't. Because you looked at Dean Winchester, and something changed inside of you. Something called you to him, and you can't figure out what it was, but you know it's strong. And you know that, whatever Dean's doing to you, you don't really care to fight it. Things are broken in you, just as much is broken in him, and you fit perfectly together in a way you'll never be able to describe.

But it's more complicated than that, though. The world pulls you and Dean apart again and again.

And you find your way back, again and again.

Mini-Series

Willing to Break - Dean Winchester x Reader

With the Mark of Cain getting out of hand, you and Sam convince Dean to try something different. A spell that won't fix the Mark, but will change it. Make Dean crave good things, things he likes, instead of death and blood.

It doesn't exactly go according to plan.

One-Shots

To Need Somebody - (Dean Winchester x Reader) After a hunt goes poorly, Dean retreats down a well-tread path of self-loathing

I Could Have You - (Dean Winchester x Reader) Dean is hit with a lust spell, and it doesn't seem to only be effecting him. No one's really sure why, and Dean refuses to give in to the curse, so you'll just ride this out.

Falling Into Me - You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you. You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.

Hold You Tight In My Mind - You and Dean have an agreement. Best friends who have sex, no strings attached. But when a case goes south, you learn a few things about Dean, specifically his thoughts on the arrangement, and

Still You Want Me - Request! Dean's fought the worst evil in the world, but only one thing has really managed to scare him. His pregnant wife.

#kamisreading

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kamisobsessed · 8 days ago

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this series is probably my favorite dean series on tumblr by far

✨Taking her in - Pt. 18✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! (saftey first, no Smut tho), kinda kinky i guess, hormones, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language

Word Count: 5119

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

As the intensity of the moment began to ebb, you instinctively started to shift, ready to pull away and give him space to recover. But before you could move, Dean’s good hand slid to your waist, his fingers pressing gently to stop you.

“Not yet”, he murmured, his voice low and rough from exertion. His green eyes were soft, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he looked up at you. “Just… let me enjoy the view for a few more minutes”.

Dean’s lazy smirk deepened as he caught the way your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, your gaze flicking shyly to the side. The vulnerability in your reaction, paired with the soft rise and fall of your chest as you caught your breath, was enough to send a wave of heat coursing through him.

Inside you, he twitched, the sensation making your breath hitch. His good hand tightened slightly on your waist, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. “Sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though tinged with exhaustion, “if you keep looking that adorable, we might have a problem”.

Dean’s smirk softened as he watched you hide your face behind your hands, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You mumbled something incoherent, but he didn’t need to hear the words to know what you were thinking. The way you tried to shrink away, the shy way you moved—it was all so inherently you, and it drove him absolutely wild.

For Dean, your innocence, your vulnerability, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just the physical side of things, though that certainly stirred something primal in him. It was the emotional weight of it, the knowledge that you trusted him completely, that he was the only man who had ever been allowed to see you like this, to touch you, to be with you. Knowing he was the only one who had ever been inside you, the only one who had ever felt how tight and perfect you were—it was intoxicating.

His fingers brushed over your hip, his grip firm but gentle as he tried to keep himself grounded. It wasn’t easy. Every instinct, every deep, primal part of him wanted to pull you underneath him, to claim you completely, to make sure you knew exactly how much he wanted you, needed you.

But he held back, because you deserved more than that. You deserved care and patience, and Dean wanted to give that to you, no matter how hard it was to resist the fire burning inside him.

Dean’s grip on your hip tightened ever so slightly as he whispered, his voice barely above a breath but filled with so much raw emotion it made your chest ache. “God, I love you”.

The words were like a spark, igniting something deep within you. Before you could respond, his good hand gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling you down toward him. Your hands fell from your face as his lips met yours, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow, unhurried, yet brimming with unspoken passion, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him in every brush of his lips against yours.

You felt his body shift slightly beneath you, his warmth seeping into your skin as his grip steadied you. The connection between you was so intense it made your head spin, and then you became acutely aware of him—the way he was growing harder inside you, pressing deeper as he adjusted ever so slightly. The sensation made your breath catch, your body tensing for a moment before you melted against him.

Dean pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged.

His forehead remained pressed against yours, his warm breath mingling with your own as he shifted slightly beneath you. You noticed his wince, and before you could ask, he reached out toward the bedside table with his good hand, fumbling for the bottle of painkillers. His movements were clumsy and strained, and you instinctively moved to help him, grabbing the bottle and pressing it into his hand.

“Thanks”, he murmured, his voice rough but full of affection. He popped the cap open with one hand, shaking two pills into his palm and tossing them into his mouth. He swallowed them dry, his throat working hard to force them down, before setting the bottle aside and leaning back against the pillow.

Dean’s hand returned to your hip, his fingers tightening slightly as he shifted beneath you again, pressing you flush against him. His body trembled faintly, his jaw tightening as a mix of pleasure and pain flashed across his features. His green eyes found yours, dark with a raw, unrelenting need that made your breath hitch.

“Painkillers’ll kick in soon”, he muttered, his voice low and strained. “But I’m sure as hell not waiting”. He guided your hips down with a firm but gentle pressure, encouraging you to take him fully once more. The intensity in his gaze left no doubt—he wanted this, no matter how much his chest ached.

Your breath hitched at the sensation of him pressing fully inside you, his hand firm on your hip as he silently conveyed exactly what he wanted. The look in his eyes was enough to set your heart racing—a mixture of raw need and unshakable affection that made it impossible to resist. Despite the lingering self-consciousness gnawing at you, the thought of letting him down spurred you into motion.

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you started to move your hips slowly, tentatively. The feeling was overwhelming, the stretch and fullness making you tremble as you tried to find a rhythm. Dean’s groan, low and rumbling, sent a shiver through your body, his hand tightening on your hip as if encouraging you to keep going.

“That’s it”, he rasped, his voice thick with both strain and pleasure. “Just like that, sweetheart. You’re doing so good”.

A few days later, Dean’s injuries were starting to look better, though the healing process was slow. Sam had to redo a few stitches on his chest the day after your night together, muttering something about “damn stubborn idiots” under his breath as he worked. But now, the bleeding had finally stopped, and while Dean’s chest still looked angry and raw, the wounds were starting to close. His broken arm was firmly secured in a sling, and the swelling in his fingers had gone down slightly, though his strength hadn’t fully returned.

Dean, however, wasn’t exactly bouncing back. He was still weak, his body trembling if he stood for too long. Worse, he’d barely eaten over the past few days, a concerning departure from his usual “shovel anything in sight” appetite. The mix of pain meds and antibiotics had clearly taken a toll on him, dulling his hunger and leaving him uncharacteristically tired.

Now, he was sitting in the bunker’s library, slouched slightly in his chair with his broken arm cradled against his side. His good hand flipped idly through the pages of an old lore book, but it was clear he wasn’t fully focused. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the text, though his eyes flicked occasionally where Sam sat at the opposite side of the table.

Sam glanced up from his book, breaking the silence in the library as he leaned back in his chair. “Where’s she at?”, he asked casually, his tone curious but not particularly pressing. “Haven’t seen her around”.

Dean froze for a moment, his eyes lingering on the page in front of him without actually reading it. His jaw tightened slightly before he finally muttered, “She’s out. Running errands or something”.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean’s vague response, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “Errands?”, he echoed, clearly unconvinced. “What kind of errands?”.

Dean sighed, his good hand scrubbing over his face as he tried to come up with a better answer. But the memory of your flustered face from earlier that morning flashed through his mind, making him bite the inside of his cheek to stop the grin threatening to form.

“She went to grab some snacks or whatever”, Dean said, his voice gruff as he avoided Sam’s gaze. “Nothing major”.

Sam wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his smirk growing as he studied Dean. “You’re acting weird”, he said, clearly enjoying how flustered Dean was getting. “Did you two have a fight or something?”.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “No, we didn’t have a fight”, he said, though the defensive edge in his voice made Sam’s smirk widen. “She’s fine. I’m fine. Drop it”.

What Dean didn’t mention—and wouldn’t, unless absolutely necessary—was the conversation from that morning. He’d tried to convince you to take a bath with him, the idea of relaxing together sounding perfect in his mind. But you’d been unusually hesitant, deflecting his suggestion and making excuses until he finally asked outright what was going on.

Your face had turned beet red as you muttered the truth, so quietly he almost didn’t catch it. “I’m on my period, Dean”.

At first, he’d just blinked at you, his brain catching up to your words before a teasing grin spread across his face. “That’s it?”, he’d asked, clearly amused. “Sweetheart, that’s nothing. We can still—”.

“No, Dean”, you’d interrupted firmly, your cheeks still burning. “Just… no”.

The memory of your embarrassment made him smile faintly now, even as Sam continued to press him for answers. “What’s so funny?”, Sam asked, narrowing his eyes at Dean’s reaction.

“Nothing”, Dean muttered, flipping a page in his book. “Just thinking”.

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t push further, letting the subject drop—for now.

A little while later, the sound of the bunker door opening echoed down the hall, followed by the familiar shuffle of your footsteps. Dean’s head snapped up immediately, his green eyes locking onto the library door as you stepped in, carrying a bag of snacks.

“There you are”, Dean said, a grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Took you long enough. Please tell me you got pie”.

You rolled your eyes at Dean’s immediate comment, though a flicker of guilt crossed your face as you set the bag of snacks down on the library table. “Dean”, you said softly, your tone tinged with both concern and frustration, “you can’t just live off pie”.

Dean shrugged, leaning back in his chair as though his argument was irrefutable. “Why not? It’s got everything I need. Fruit, sugar, carbs—basically a full meal”.

Sam snorted from across the table, closing his book with a thud. “Pretty sure that’s not how nutrition works, Dean”.

You shot Sam a grateful look before turning your attention back to Dean. But something about the way he looked—pale, tired, stubbornly defiant—made your chest tighten. Normally, you’d let it go with a sigh or an eye roll, but your hormones were wreaking havoc on you this time around, and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes before you could stop them.

“Dean, you’re not eating enough”, you blurted, your voice shaking slightly as you stepped closer to him. “You’re already weak, and you’re barely standing half the time. Do you even realize how worried I’ve been? How scared—”.

The tears spilled over before you could finish, and you quickly turned away, swiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. You weren’t usually this emotional, but the hormonal chaos of your period had turned you into a walking mess of feelings. On top of that, the stress of watching Dean push himself too hard while refusing to take care of himself was enough to send you spiraling.

Both Sam and Dean froze as your voice cracked, their eyes widening in surprise at the sudden shift in your tone. Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, his eyebrows raised as if silently asking, What the hell just happened?

Dean, however, looked like he was caught completely off guard. His good hand rested awkwardly on the armrest of his chair, and he blinked at you as if unsure how to react. “Uh”, he started, clearly fumbling for words, “you’re crying over pie?”.

The moment the words left his mouth, you turned sharply, your tear-streaked face blazing with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “Are you kidding me, Dean?”, you snapped, your voice rising. “I’m not crying over pie, you absolute moron!”.

Dean’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His usual quick wit failed him entirely as you glared at him, your emotions surging like a tidal wave. “I’m crying because you’re being a stubborn, reckless idiot who doesn’t care about himself or the people who care about him!”, you shouted, your voice trembling as fresh tears streamed down your face. “You’re barely eating, you’re not resting, and you think this is all a joke!”.

Sam leaned back slightly in his chair, his hands raised in a silent gesture of surrender as if to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. “I think I’ll, uh… let you two handle this”, he muttered, standing up.

"No!”, you shouted, spinning on your heel to glare at Sam, who froze mid-step, clearly caught off guard. “You don’t get to just walk away from this, Sam!”. Your voice wavered with a mix of anger and frustration, but there was no mistaking the intensity in your tone. “You’re his brother! How can you just sit there and let him act like this? You should be holding him down, making sure he takes care of himself—not letting him get away with being so damn reckless!”.

Sam blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. “He listens to you, Sam. Or at least, he should. You’ve been through enough with him to know what happens when he keeps pushing himself like this. Why aren’t you doing anything?”.

Dean, still seated behind you, let out a low groan, his head falling back against the chair. “Oh, come on”, he muttered. “Now you’re mad at him? It’s not his fault I’m a pain in the ass”.

You turned back to Dean, your hands flying to your hips as you narrowed your eyes at him. “This is absolutely about you being a pain in the ass, but Sam isn’t off the hook either. You’re his brother, and he should know better!”.

Sam raised his hands defensively, his voice cautious as he tried to defuse the situation. “Okay, hold on”, he said, his tone calm but firm. “I do know better, and trust me, I’ve tried. You know how stubborn he is—it’s like talking to a wall sometimes. But it’s not like I don’t care. I’m worried about him too”.

Dean’s voice cut through your tirade with a sharpness that made you freeze. “Calm down!”, he barked, his tone more authoritative than you’d heard in a long time. His green eyes locked onto yours, frustration flashing behind them as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. “Since when does your period turn you into such a damn little brat?”.

The words hung in the air like a bomb that had just gone off.

Your mouth fell open, completely stunned, and Sam immediately winced, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck as he took an instinctive step back. “Oh no”, Sam muttered under his breath, clearly wanting no part of what was about to happen.

Dean’s gaze flicked between you and Sam, as if realizing the weight of what he’d just said. “What?”, he muttered, almost defensively, though his voice was already losing steam. “I’m just saying, you’re usually not this…”.

“What?”, you hissed, cutting him off. Your voice was low, dangerously calm, and your eyebrow arched as you took a slow step toward him. “Did you just call me a brat because I’m on my period?”.

Sam’s eyes widened as he began inching toward the door, clearly sensing the storm brewing. “I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you two to this”, he muttered, slipping out as quickly and quietly as possible.

Dean, to his credit—or maybe stupidity—didn’t back down, though you could see a flicker of regret in his expression. “That’s not what I meant”, he said quickly, his voice softening as he raised his good hand in a placating gesture. “I just… you’re all over the place, sweetheart. One second you’re yelling at me, then you’re crying, and now—”.

“Dean”, you interrupted, your voice still calm but with an edge sharp enough to cut steel. “You better stop talking before you dig yourself an even bigger hole”.

Dean’s mouth opened as if to argue, but then he closed it again, his gaze dropping to the table. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Finally, he let out a long, exasperated sigh, running his good hand through his hair.

“Alright, I’m sorry”, he muttered, his tone genuine despite the awkward delivery. He looked up at you, his green eyes softer now, tinged with a hint of guilt. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not a brat. You’re just… worried. And you’ve got every right to be”.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “Damn right, I do”, you said firmly, though your voice had lost some of its earlier fire.

Dean shifted in his seat, his broken arm cradled awkwardly against his side. “Look, I’m not great at this whole ‘talking about feelings’ thing”, he admitted, his voice gruff. “But I know you’re just trying to take care of me. And I appreciate it, okay? Even if I’m a stubborn pain in the ass”.

You softened slightly at his words, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. “You are a pain in the ass”, you muttered, though your tone was lighter now.

Dean smirked faintly, his good hand reaching out to gently tug you closer. “Yeah, but you love me anyway”, he said, his voice low and teasing, though there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Right?”.

You sighed, shaking your head as you allowed yourself to be pulled closer. “Unfortunately for me”, you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Dean’s smirk widened, and his thumb brushed over your hand. “See? We’re good. Now come here and sit down before you yell at me again”.

You rolled your eyes but let him guide you to the chair beside him, the tension between you slowly dissolving. For all his stubbornness and occasional idiotic comments, Dean knew how to make things right—eventually.

You sighed, settling into the chair beside Dean and letting your shoulders slump slightly. The intensity of the moment was fading, leaving you feeling embarrassed by your earlier outburst. You glanced at him, chewing your bottom lip before muttering, “I’m sorry”.

You hesitated for a moment, staring at the table as you toyed with a stray thread on your shirt. “I didn’t mean to get so dramatic”, you admitted quietly. “I… It’s just… the birth control, I think. It’s messing with my hormones or something”.

Dean’s expression softened, the lines of frustration and exhaustion smoothing into something far gentler. He reached out with his good hand, resting it lightly on your arm. “Hey”, he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “You don’t need to apologize for that. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose”.

You looked up at him, a flicker of relief crossing your face at his understanding tone. “I just hate feeling like this”, you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Like I’m all over the place. I’m not usually like this, you know? And then there’s you, not eating, not taking care of yourself, and it just… it’s too much”.

Dean’s hand tightened slightly on your arm, his thumb brushing small, soothing circles over your skin. “Sweetheart”, he said softly, “it’s okay. I get it. And you’ve got every right to feel the way you do. Hell, if I were in your shoes, I’d probably be yelling at me too”.

That brought a small, reluctant smile to your lips, and Dean smirked in response, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in that familiar way that always made your heart skip a beat.

“Look”, he continued, his tone more serious now. “I know I’ve been a stubborn jackass, but I’ll try, okay? I’ll eat something. Even if it’s not pie. And I’ll take it easy”. His eyes searched yours, a flicker of guilt lingering in their depths. “I don’t like seeing you upset”.

You felt a lump rise in your throat at his words, and you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you”, you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dean leaned back slightly, his smirk returning as he gave your arm a gentle squeeze. “But just so you know”, he added, his tone teasing now, “pie’s still the best part of any meal”.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile widened as you swatted at his arm lightly. “You’re impossible”.

Dean chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, and for the first time in days, you felt a sense of calm settle over you.

The rest of the day passed in relative peace, though it was clear both Winchester brothers were treading carefully around you. Dean, stubborn as he was, had actually eaten something—granted, it was more pie, but progress was progress. Meanwhile, Sam buried himself in research for a new case, his brow furrowed in concentration as he flipped through old lore books.

You, on the other hand, were completely absorbed in your own little world. Lounged in one of the bunker’s oversized chairs, you balanced a tub of cookie dough ice cream in your lap, periodically dipping chips into it. Your headphones were snug over your ears, blocking out everything but the show playing on your tablet. You were content, happily distracted by Netflix and your unusual snack combination.

Dean, sitting at the table with Sam, glanced over at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned closer to his brother, his voice low but still carrying a teasing edge. “Man”, he murmured, nodding toward you. “If she’s this moody from just the pill, I better never get her pregnant”.

Sam, who had been immersed in a book, snorted in surprise before letting out a laugh. He shook his head, his amusement clear as he shot Dean a knowing look. “Not for at least the next five years, Dean”, he said, his tone playful but firm. “She’s way too young for that”.

Dean turned to glare at his brother, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, he muttered, his voice defensive.

Sam shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he raised an eyebrow at Dean. “You wouldn’t just throw that out there unless you’ve been thinking about it”, he pointed out, his smirk widening. “I know you, Dean. That joke didn’t come from nowhere”.

Dean’s face reddened slightly, and he looked away, clearly annoyed at being called out. “Whatever”, he grumbled, focusing back on his book, though you could see the way his jaw tightened.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the quiet exchange, you scooped up another bite of ice cream with a chip, completely engrossed in your show. If you’d heard what they were talking about, you might’ve dropped your ice cream altogether.

Sam chuckled to himself, clearly pleased with how much he’d riled Dean up. “Just saying”, he added lightly, flipping a page in his book. “You’ve got time. No rush”.

Dean rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well”, he muttered, his voice low and a little gruff, “it’s not like I’m ever gonna have kids anyway. This life? It’s not exactly family-friendly”.

Sam glanced up from his book, his expression softening as he studied his brother. “You don’t know that”, he said, his voice thoughtful. “Maybe someday things’ll change. You could have a family, Dean. A real shot at being happy”.

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “C’mon, Sam. Let’s be real. I’ve got a messed-up past, demons on speed dial, and about a hundred other reasons why that’s never gonna happen. Not exactly a picket-fence kind of guy. And you´re neither”.

Sam leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests as he gave Dean a measured look. “You say that now”, he said carefully, “but I’ve been thinking… I don’t want to do this forever either. Maybe in a few years, I’ll settle down. Find a way to live a quieter life. Hell, I’ve always wanted kids”.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Little Sam Juniors running around? Hope they come with a manual, Sammy, ’cause I don’t see you handling diaper duty”.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m serious, Dean. I want a life outside of this—something more. Don’t you?”.

Dean’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes flicking toward you lounging in the chair with your headphones on. For a brief moment, something unspoken passed over his face—a flicker of what-ifs and maybes—but he quickly masked it with a shrug. “I don’t know, man”, he said, his voice quieter. “Maybe for you. You’d be good at it”.

Sam tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched his brother. “You say that like it’s not possible for you too”.

Dean huffed a humorless laugh, reaching for the cup of coffee on the table. “Let’s just focus on the case, alright?”, he said, effectively changing the subject.

Sam didn’t push, though his thoughtful expression lingered. It was clear he wasn’t done with the conversation, but for now, he let it slide, returning to his research. Dean’s eyes drifted back to you, his features softening despite the gruff exterior he was trying to maintain.

Dean’s mind kept drifting, no matter how much he tried to focus on the book in front of him. He knew he was being ridiculous—you were too young to be having conversations about kids, and the two of you were still in the early stages of your relationship. It wasn’t the time, and he wasn’t the guy to even entertain that kind of future… or so he thought.

But the thought of you, your small, delicate frame carrying something so undeniably his, wouldn’t leave him. It stirred something deep in him—something primal and possessive, something that made his chest tighten and his body react in ways he hadn’t expected. The idea of you glowing, rounded with his child, hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and he cursed himself as he felt the heat pooling low in his abdomen.

Dean shifted in his chair, trying to will the reaction away, but it was no use. His jeans felt tighter, and the book in front of him suddenly seemed like the least interesting thing in the world. He clenched his jaw, leaning back slightly as if the change in position would somehow help. It didn’t.

He glanced at you, still curled up in the chair with your tablet and snacks, completely oblivious to the chaos you’d inadvertently caused in his head. Your face was relaxed, your small movements as you shifted and dipped chips into ice cream so natural and unguarded. It wasn’t like you were trying to do anything to him—you were just being you. And that made it even harder to ignore.

Get it together, Dean, he scolded himself silently, dragging a hand down his face. But the idea of you pregnant—his baby growing inside you, proof of the love you shared—sent another wave of heat through him. It wasn’t just physical; it was deeper, more profound. The thought scared the hell out of him, but it also stirred something he couldn’t deny.

He shifted again, letting out a frustrated sigh that caught Sam’s attention. “You alright?”m Sam asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked up from his research.

Dean nodded quickly, his voice a little strained. “Yeah, just stiff from sitting too long”, he lied, leaning forward and propping his elbow on the table as if that would somehow disguise his discomfort.

Sam gave him a skeptical look but didn’t press, returning to his book with a shrug. Dean glanced back at you once more, letting out a slow, steady breath. He had to get a grip. There was no way he could explain what was going on in his head right now without embarrassing himself—and probably scaring the hell out of you.

Still, as he shifted his focus back to the book, the thought lingered, stubbornly refusing to leave.

Eventually, you stood up from your chair, stretching your legs after sitting for so long. With your tub of ice cream in one hand and your tablet tucked under your arm, you made your way awkwardly toward the kitchen. The cramps were starting to kick in again, and you figured a hot water bottle would help. Dean watched you leave, his eyes trailing after you like a magnet.

The tension in his body hadn’t eased since the thoughts of you and the idea of a family had crept into his head. He told himself to stay put, to let it go, but his legs had other plans. Quietly, he got up, cradling his broken arm against his chest as he followed you down the hall.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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#kamisreading #jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean and sam #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #dean x you

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kamisobsessed · 4 days ago

Text

my heartttt, i love ben 🥹

✨Different✨

Summary: Loving Soldier Boy was never easy—but tonight, he’s just Ben. Stripped of bravado, weighed down by the world, he lets you see the cracks. In quiet touches and unspoken confessions, he leans into you, searching for something he’s not sure he deserves. And for once, he lets himself rest—just with you.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF

Word Count: 3245

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

You didn’t think tonight would turn out like this. Not that dating Soldier Boy ever came with a sense of predictability, but this… this was something you hadn’t expected.

When he walked into your apartment, it was the same as usual—kicking the door shut with his boot, leaving streaks of dirt on the rug you’d told him a dozen times not to ruin. His shield, that ever-present symbol of his ego, clattered against the wall where he left it leaning. He looked exhausted, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat, his movements slower, heavier than you were used to.

“Rough day?”, you asked, already heading to grab him a beer from the fridge. It was part of the routine now. He’d come in, drop some snarky comment about how the world sucked, down half the beer in one go, and grumble until he either passed out or decided he wanted you in bed.

But today, he didn’t answer. When you turned around, beer in hand, he was just standing there, watching you.

There was something in his eyes—something you hadn’t seen before. He looked… unsure. And Soldier Boy wasn’t someone who did “unsure”. He was all swagger and bravado, always walking into a room like he owned it. But now? He looked smaller somehow, like the weight of the day—or maybe the weight of being him—was too much to carry.

“You good?”, you asked, your voice softer this time. Setting the beer on the counter, you stepped closer, unsure of what to say. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he let out a long, heavy sigh and dropped onto the couch, his head falling back against the cushion.

“Yeah”, he muttered, though it didn’t sound convincing. “Just… tired”.

That was new. He never admitted to being tired. Not the Soldier Boy you knew. He was supposed to be bulletproof, invincible—at least, that’s how he saw himself. But tonight, it felt like all that armor he wore—literal and figurative—was starting to crack.

You sat down beside him cautiously, unsure if he’d push you away. He didn’t even glance at you, just stared at the ceiling like it might offer him some kind of answer. When his hand brushed against yours, it wasn’t the cocky, teasing touch you were used to. It was hesitant. Tentative.

“Ben?”, you asked quietly. “What’s going on?”.

His jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes, like he was fighting something inside himself. “I just—”. He stopped, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Forget it”.

You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Talk to me”, you urged, resting your hand gently on his arm. “What do you need?”.

His eyes opened, and when they met yours, they weren’t the arrogant, confident eyes you were used to. There was something raw there, something that made your chest tighten. For a second, you thought he’d get up and leave, maybe throw out some asshole comment to deflect like he always did when things got too real. But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it when he said, “I just need… you. Okay?”.

It wasn’t a demand, like you’d come to expect from him. It wasn’t gruff or commanding. It was soft. Almost pleading.

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t the Soldier Boy you knew—the man who had to be in control of everything, who couldn’t let anyone else take charge. But tonight, something was different. He was different. And even if he’d never say the words out loud, you could see it in the way his hand reached for yours again, the way he clung to it like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

He didn’t want to be the unbreakable superhero right now. He didn’t want to fight, argue, or take the lead. Tonight, he just wanted to let go.

He wanted you.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You weren’t sure how to react—this wasn’t the man you’d grown used to, the one who always walked through life with an unshakable ego. But as you looked at him now, slumped forward, waiting for your response like he didn’t know what to expect, you realized how fragile he seemed beneath it all.

“Okay”, you murmured, your voice steady despite the odd knot forming in your chest.

His shoulders eased, just slightly, like that single word was enough to let him breathe again. You reached out, resting your hand gently against his back. He didn’t flinch or shrug you off, and you could feel the tension knotted there, his muscles taut beneath your fingers.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that—his head bowed, your hand resting on his back, a quiet stillness settling over the room. You could feel the weight of the day on him, not sadness exactly, but something heavier. He wasn’t broken, but he was worn, like he was just… done. Done with all of it.

“Wanna take a shower?”, you murmured, your lips brushing against his bicep. It was a small gesture, but one you knew he wouldn’t resist. The tension in his shoulders shifted at your words, and though he didn’t respond right away, you could tell he was considering it.

Finally, he let out a low hum, more a grunt than an answer. “Yeah”, he said, his voice rough but softer than you expected.

You stood first, tugging lightly at his arm until he followed. He didn’t protest, letting you lead him through the familiar path to the bathroom. It wasn’t like him to give up control so easily—normally, he’d be making some quip about how lucky you were to get him out of his clothes, or joking about how he didn’t need to wash off because “dirt doesn’t stick to perfection”. But tonight, there was none of that. Just quiet compliance, a rare and fragile thing.

The bathroom light was soft, warm, and it reflected in his tired eyes as you turned the shower on. Steam began to rise, curling in the air, and you glanced over at him as he leaned against the sink, his arms crossed, watching you. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just… waiting.

“You need help, big guy?”, you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He huffed, the faintest flicker of his usual smirk appearing for just a second. “I’m not that far gone”, he muttered, but there was no edge to his voice.

Still, you stepped closer, your fingers reaching for the heavy buckle of his supe suit. It was scratched and battered, the once-pristine metal dulled by years of wear and tear. As you started to undo it, you could feel his eyes on you—not in the usual cocky, flirtatious way, but softer, more curious, like he was trying to understand why you were doing this for him.

The belt clicked open, and you carefully slid it free, letting it drop to the floor with a dull thud. Your hands moved to the fastening of his suit, your fingers deft as you worked it loose. The fabric was thick, stiff with grime and the scent of smoke and sweat lingering in the material. It was a stark reminder of what his life was—a never-ending cycle of fights, missions, and expectations.

“You’re quiet”, you murmured as you worked, glancing up at him.

“Just… tired”, he admitted, his voice low, barely above a whisper. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he almost looked like he might say something more. But then he fell silent again, letting you continue without interruption.

As the top of his suit came loose, you slid it down his arms, revealing his broad chest and the scars that marked his skin. They told the story of a man who had been through hell and back—a story he rarely let anyone see. Your eyes lingered on a particularly deep scar over his ribs, one you’d traced with your fingers before in quieter moments.

You didn’t say anything about it now. You knew better.

“You’re a mess”, you teased gently, trying to bring some levity to the moment. Your hand brushed over his chest briefly, more out of instinct than anything else, and you felt the way he leaned into the touch—subtle, but there.

“Yeah, well”, he muttered, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “You knew what you were signing up for”.

That was more like him, and the familiar quip made you smile. “Sure did”, you said, pulling the rest of his suit down until it pooled at his feet. He stepped out of it without a word, standing before you naked now, the steam from the shower curling around his frame.

For a moment, you just looked at him. Right now, he was just Ben, tired and worn, standing in your bathroom like he didn’t know what to do next.

“Come on”, you said softly, taking his hand and guiding him toward the shower.

The water hit him first, soaking his hair and trailing down his body, washing away the grime and tension he’d carried in with him. He tilted his head back under the spray, his eyes closing as he let out a low, contented sigh.

You stepped in with him, the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. His hands found your waist instinctively, steadying himself more than anything else, and you stayed close, your fingers running gently along his arms, his chest, wherever you felt he needed the comfort.

The water poured over both of you, the steady rhythm of the droplets filling the silence. He wasn’t saying much—wasn’t saying anything, really—but his hands lingered at your waist, not gripping, just holding. Like he needed to know you were there, solid and steady.

Eventually, as the steam enveloped you both, you felt him shift slightly. His shoulders sagged, and then, slowly, his head dipped forward until it came to rest against your collarbone. The unexpected weight of it was grounding, and you instinctively raised your hand, threading your fingers through his damp hair.

You let him stay there.

You didn’t say anything—didn’t tease him about the rare vulnerability or push him to talk. You just let him be, standing in the warmth of the shower, your hand gently stroking through his hair, the other tracing soft patterns along his back.

His breathing slowed against you, the rise and fall of his chest evening out. The tension he carried, the tight coil of pressure always wound so deeply inside him, seemed to ease just a little. He wasn’t completely relaxed—he never could be—but this was close enough.

After a while, he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin, “You’re… too good at this”.

You smiled faintly, letting out a soft chuckle. “At what?”.

“Letting me… I don’t know”. He paused, shifting slightly but not pulling away. “Letting me stop. Even just for a second”.

Your hand stilled in his hair for a moment before continuing. “You don’t always have to keep moving, Ben”, you said softly. “You don’t always have to be… that guy. You can just be you with me”.

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt the way his arms tightened slightly around your waist. It wasn’t a thank you, not in words. Soldier Boy didn’t do thank yous. But it was enough.

“I don’t know who the hell ‘me’ even is anymore”, he said after a long pause, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering there. “Then let’s figure it out together”.

For the first time that night, you felt him exhale fully, the kind of breath that carried the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. His head stayed resting against you, the water continuing to wash over both of you as the world outside faded further and further away.

And for now, that was enough.

After the shower, the two of you moved quietly through the motions of getting ready for bed. Ben didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. The air between you was calm, steady, the kind of quiet that spoke more than words could.

When he finally slid into bed beside you, you expected him to turn back into the Soldier Boy you knew, trying to get you tangled up beneath him. But tonight was different.

He simply lay back, his body sinking into the mattress like he was letting himself rest for the first time in years. He turned onto his side, his back to you, and for a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like him to pull away, and yet here he was, retreating in a way that didn’t feel like rejection, but something else entirely.

You scooted closer, the mattress shifting under your weight as you moved toward him. Your hand reached out tentatively at first, brushing over his back lightly, testing the waters. His body was warm under your touch, his muscles taut but not as tense as they’d been earlier.

When he didn’t pull away, you let your hand settle more firmly, wrapping your arm around his torso. He let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh at the contact, his shoulders relaxing just a little more.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his back, just between his shoulder blades. The faint salt of his skin mingled with the lingering scent of soap from the shower, grounding you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His hand moved, covering yours where it rested against his chest. The warmth of his palm settled over your fingers, holding them in place like he needed the reassurance of your touch. Neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt heavy with meaning, with emotions too raw to voice.

After a while, though, you felt him shift. Slowly, he turned in your arms, rolling onto his back and then to his side, facing you. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, like he was gathering the courage for something.

Your breath hitched slightly as his gaze locked onto yours. Those green eyes, usually sharp and full of mischief or arrogance, were softer now, vulnerable in a way that made your chest tighten. You bit your lip instinctively, unsure of what he was searching for as his eyes traced your face.

Your hand, still resting on his chest, moved on its own accord, brushing upward to the scruff of his beard. Your fingertips traced the coarse texture, lingering along his jawline, and you couldn’t help but let a small, almost shy smile tug at your lips.

“What?”, you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted, moving from your eyes to your lips and back again, like he was debating something in his head. His hand lifted, resting lightly against your side, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt.

“You”, he finally murmured, the word low and rough. “You’re just… different”.

“Different how?”, you asked, your fingers still absently stroking along his beard.

His lips twitched faintly, like he was fighting a smile. “Not like anyone else”, he said. “You don’t… expect anything from me. You don’t need me to be anything I’m not”.

You tilted your head slightly, your smile softening. “Maybe because I like who you are. Not who the world thinks you have to be”.

For a moment, he just stared at you like he didn’t know how to respond. Then, unexpectedly, his hand moved, brushing over yours where it still rested against his beard. He caught your fingers lightly, holding them for a moment before pressing them to his lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

“You make it sound so fucking simple”, he said, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Maybe it is”, you whispered back.

He didn’t say anything else, but the way his hand lingered against yours, the way his gaze stayed locked on yours as if he was afraid to look away, spoke volumes.

For a man who had always carried the world on his shoulders, tonight he let himself lean on you.

His gaze softened even more as you whispered the words, “I love you, Ben”, against his lips, the confession slipping out like it had been waiting there all along. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

Then you kissed him, gentle and unhurried, your lips brushing against his like you were sealing the words between you. He didn’t respond at first, almost frozen, but then his hand tightened against your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. The kiss wasn’t demanding or hungry; it was tender, the kind of intimacy that came with trust.

When you pulled back, you kept your eyes on his, watching for his reaction. For once, he wasn’t guarded. He wasn’t hiding behind his usual cocky smirk or sarcastic quip. Instead, he just stared at you, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes.

“You don’t have to say it back”, you whispered, sensing the hesitation in him. “I just wanted you to know”.

He let out a exhale, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. His thumb brushed along your skin, and you could feel the tension in him, the struggle between the man he was and the man he wanted to be with you.

“I don’t deserve you”, he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“Maybe not”, you teased softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But I love you anyway”.

That drew a quiet laugh from him, and you felt his chest shake slightly beneath your hand. He didn’t say anything else, but the way he held you, his arms tightening around you as you shifted to rest your head against his chest, told you everything you needed to know.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear was calming, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a quiet peace. His hand stayed at your waist, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against your skin, grounding you both in the moment.

As sleep began to tug at the edges of your mind, you heard him murmur something, so low you almost missed it.

“Love you too, doll”.

Your lips curved into a sleepy smile, but you didn’t respond, letting his words settle in the quiet between you. The world outside didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the man holding you, the man who, for the first time, was letting himself be held.

And in his arms, you drifted off, the soft sound of his breathing the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you.

———————————

A/N: Well, this was something else. Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87

#i love him so fucking much #soldier boy ben #soldier boy #jensen ackles #the boys #soldier boy x reader #kamisreading

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kamisobsessed · 9 days ago

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I LOVE HAPPY ENDINGS🥹 this series is so good😍

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white. He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe."

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight. "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did. And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone. "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does. It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

#supernatural #the boys #dean winchester x reader #soldier boy x reader #kamisreading

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