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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 11 months

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Showed Me (How I Fell In Love With You)

masterlist

summary: dean helps you up your flirting game, but there’s really only one set of eyes you want on you.

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.7k

warnings: language, implied sex/nudity, strands of hair falls on reader’s face

author’s note: you probably already know this but sideblogs (like this one) can now answer comments!! super excited about this update and fingers crossed the next one is for sending asks lol 🤞💞

music: showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer — i was listening to this song and kept imagining dean, idk

Dean always had incredible luck with women. He could go into a bar crowded with guys and walk out with the only woman—the bartender who’d been dodging men all night.

You, on the other hand, could go into that same bar and end up going back to the motel alone. It bothered you; what in the hell were you doing wrong?

So, you did the unthinkable—you asked Dean to help you get better at flirting.

That’s how you ended up here at the bar with Dean; he was showing you how to play pool. You had protested the idea of him “teaching you” something you already knew, but he claimed it was important.

“You’re standing wrong,” he told you when you were about to break.

“Uh, no I’m not?”

“If you’re trying to win the game, you’re doing great. If you’re trying to get your opponent to fuck you, you’re failing miserably.”

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

“Hey, you were the one who asked me for help!” He shrugged. “If you want to back out now-”

“No, I don’t want to back out,” you sighed. “I’m fucking desperate at this point.”

“So, are you gonna do what I say, then?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “How am I supposed to stand?”

He walked up behind you and put his hands on your hips.

“Stick your butt out a little,” he instructed and you did as he asked. “Alright, now when you bend over,” he moved his hands up and forward, resting them on your lower chest, “you’ll want to point your breasts in the direction of the person you want to attract.”

“What if he’s standing behind me?” you asked.

“Then his eyes are gonna be glued to your ass,” he replied, not getting the message. “If he’s standing behind you then focus more on the actual game, and less on where you’re pointing your boobs. Trust me, though, if he’s standing in front of you, he’s gonna be trying to see down your shirt, now…” he walked back around to the other side of the table. “Bend over, and before you hit the ball, make eye contact with him.”

“Okay…” You bent down and lined up your shot before looking up and into Dean’s eyes.

“Perfect! If you look at him kinda like through your eyelashes, there’s exactly one thing that’s suddenly stuck front and center in his mind.”

“And this works on…all guys?” you asked, still looking at him through your lashes.

“If he was standing where I am and didn’t want to fuck you, he’s either related to you or just not into chicks.”

“Good to know,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself. You were about to start the game but a few strands of hair fell on your face.

“Don’t move,” Dean said before he hurried back to where he had been before and tucked the hair behind your ear for you. “Now, since he’s already thinking about that one thing, is that something you want him to think about even more?”

“Um, yeah,” you said quietly.

“Alright, pout your lips,” he instructed. He moved his hand down from your ear and tugged your lip out a bit. “Perfect, that’s gonna draw his attention to your lips.”

“So, now I start actually playing the game?” you asked, not sure if he had any more pointers for you.

“If you want. Or we can go over to the bar where there are three different guys that have been eyeing you the past ten minutes.”

“Really?” you stood up straight, whipping your head around. You saw the guys he was talking about and they all quickly looked down at the drinks in front of them. “Let’s go to the bar, then.”

“So, now that you know all those guys are interested,” Dean said as you both took your seats at the bar, several stools away from the other people already there, “you need to pick one.”

“Isn’t that the easy part?” you laughed a little.

“Oh no, most guys are monsters.” Dean shook his head, motioning the bartender over with his hand. “What’re you drinking?” he asked, looking at you.

“Just a beer’s fine,” you said, a little confused. Usually when you, Sam, and Dean went out drinking you each ordered your own drinks. Dean took initiative and ordered two beers. “And I know before taking someone back to my room I have to do the usual tests; holy water, iron, and silver.”

“Not those kinda monsters, sweetheart,” Dean said. “The guy on the far right has a little motor home keychain attached to his keys. Given the fact there’s a dilapidated RV parked outside that looks like a serial killer’s lair, I’d say he’s a creep.”

“Well, what about the guy in the middle?” you asked.

“I heard him talking with someone on the phone in the bathroom earlier about the fact his ex-girlfriend doesn’t know she got the clap from him.”

“Dear lord,” you groaned, making a disgusted face. “What’s wrong with the guy on the left?”

“Well, uh…” Dean started, looking at the man you were talking about and trying to find something wrong with him. “Nothing. If he comes over here, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

“Shouldn’t I go and talk to him?” you asked.

“Oh no! No, no, no! Bar like this, pretty girl like you; he’ll think you’re a hooker.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, unless you wanna make a couple hundred bucks tonight?” he teased, earning a smack to his upper arm. “I’ll take that as a no,” he laughed.

“I’d make at least four-hundred,” you scoffed.

“Look, you’re cute and sweet and guys tend to turn their heads when you walk by them. Now, for your next lesson, take a look around the bar and tell me how many women you see.”

You looked around, counting in your head. “Five, including me and the bartender,” you said.

“And how many guys?”

“I’d say like twenty at least?” you estimated.

“Exactly,” he said. “See, at least half of those guys have their eyes on you. When we were playing pool earlier I guarantee you they’d have done anything to be where I was.”

“So…what’s your point?”

“You’re way above any of these guys’ leagues.” He shrugged. “Which is okay, but you need to know that you’re too good for them, just a fact. They’re spending their Wednesday night in a bar looking for a hookup, you came here to get a drink with your friend. So, like I said, you are in fact way out of their leagues.”

“You really think so?”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he laughed a little then looked at you and realized you were serious. “Oh dear god, yes! Not only are you fucking gorgeous, you’re smart, funny and a total badass! I mean you killed two vampires this morning!”

“Thanks, Dean.” You smiled.

“Of course,” he replied. “Now, before we head back to the motel is there anything else? You know how to kiss someone, right?”

“Ha, ha!” You smiled sarcastically. “I know how to kiss, Dean. But, I actually do have a question.”

“Shoot!”

“What about…the friend zone?”

“You wanna know how to friend zone a guy?” He furrowed his brows.

“No, how do I get out of the friend zone?”

“Oh.” He nodded. “That’s, um, I’m actually not sure. And I didn’t think you had friends?”

“Again, very funny Dean,” you laughed somewhat sarcastically. “What if I’m good friends with a guy and I really like him, but I’m scared to tell him because I don’t want to lose the friendship?”

“Look, Sam loves you but he doesn’t see you…that way,” he said.

“It’s not Sam, dumbass,” you said. “I have plenty of friends! And there’s this one friend, who’s a guy that I really like. I don’t think he feels the same way, but it’s driving me absolutely crazy that I can’t just tell him.”

“I, uh, I don’t know. I mean, I always think the guy has more to lose if that situation goes south, cause he’ll always be attracted to the girl but she might…get bored with him.”

“But what if the guy doesn’t like me back? What if I tell him and he says ‘gross, you’re like a sister to me’?”

“If he does see you as a sister, he’s not gonna say ‘gross’ when you tell him how you feel?”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I know Sam and he’d be lucky to have a girl like you.”

“It’s not Sam, you moron!” you exclaimed, a little louder than intended.

“…Garth?”

“What if the guy I really like is also really dumb?” you asked.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say Garth is dumb…”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Yeah, never mind.” You put your face in your hands for a moment before starting to drink the beer Dean had ordered for you. He watched you with furrowed brows and it felt like an eternity (really it was about sixty seconds) before he suddenly broke the silence.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “Is it…me?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking over at him. “I didn’t plan on letting that slip tonight, I swear.”

“But, it is me? You like me?” Dean asked, you nodded. “Oh my fucking god!”

You couldn’t tell if he was happy and you were beginning to really worry.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. You turned on your chair to leave but he gripped your upper arm and kept you in place.

“No, don’t—fuck! I feel like I just won the fucking lottery and I just need a second to catch up.”

“Wait, you’re happy? You…You like me too?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, “I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot.”

“Well…” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, still smiling; “Just let me kiss you, already,” Dean muttered. He put his hands on your cheeks, stood up off his chair, leaned toward you, and kissed you deeply. His hands moved to your shoulders then down to your lower back as you put your hands on his cheeks.

“Wait,” you mumbled, pulling back slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, you’re incredible! I’m just now realizing how many creepy guys are staring at me.”

“Told ya,” he said, taking a look around the bar.

“Could we, maybe…head to your motel room?” you asked somewhat nervously.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Hundred percent.” You nodded vigorously, looking at his lips then up and into his bright green eyes. “Unless…you don’t want to?”

“Oh I definitely want to, I’ve wanted to since Sam and I picked you up after he left Stanford,” he said.

“And you didn’t say anything? Dean, it’s been like ten years?” You furrowed your brows then noticed he actually seemed a little embarrassed. “For the record, I’ve wanted to kiss you for about twelve.” His eyes widened.

“What? Wow, I guess we’re both a little stupid,” he laughed a little before leaning in for another kiss.

“Excuse me, Winchester?” You quirked a brow, looking at him.

“I mean, you’re smart, so smart,” he rambled a little. “And sexy, so fucking sexy.” He kissed you and you kissed him back, smiling against his mouth. “Let’s get the hell outta here, sweetheart.”

“Mmh, just another minute,” you mumbled, not wanting to stop kissing him.

He pulled away after a moment, both of you smiling.

“My god you’re beautiful.” He smiled, putting a hand on your cheek.

You hopped off the stool but stayed looking into his eyes; “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Dean Winchester,” you mumbled and kissed him again, pulling him down by the collar of his jacket.

He pulled out his wallet and was about to pay for both drinks but you stopped him.

“What’s wrong?”

“If you pay for my drink then this would count as our first date,” you said.

“Huh, I didn’t think of it like that,” he replied. “Alright, we each pay for our own drinks.”

“Exactly.” You nodded and took out your own wallet, each of you leaving a ten on the counter. “Now, shall we go to your motel room?”

“I’m sharing a room with Sammy,” he said.

“My motel room it is.” You pulled him down again and kissed him.

“Lead the way.”

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring lightly behind you and a smile formed on your lips as you recalled what had happened only a few hours ago. You felt Dean’s arm snake around your waist and he pulled you closer to him.

You assumed he was awake now and you turned to kiss him but he was actually still snoring. The thought that he wanted you closer to him even when he was sleeping made your smile deepen.

A wave of calmness washed over you, followed by an unnerving idea; how serious was Dean when he said he liked you?

Did he think this was a one-and-done situation? Were he and Sam just gonna drive off in that beautiful Impala and leave you to start hunting alone?

You hadn’t hunted alone since re-connecting with the Winchesters back in ‘05. Before that you’d been hunting alone or with Dean while Sam was in college. Before that you’d hunted with your dad, who occasionally worked with John.

You honestly didn’t really remember the first time you met Dean. You were both just kids and you blocked out a lot of your childhood due to the fact you’d been hunting your whole life. (It was actually a similar story to Dean’s—after a monster killed your mom, your dad became obsessed with hunting and seemed to forget he was a father with a four-year-old in the back seat of his pickup truck.)

What you did remember was the first time hunting alone with Dean. You were twenty-two and (finally) not hunting with your dad when you ran into Dean who was also hunting alone. He had recently had some kind of falling out with Sam, who had been at Stanford a couple years already. You remembered how Dean reacted to the fact you were hunting alone.

He was genuinely worried for your safety and insisted he hunt with you for a while. You took him up on the offer and spent a couple months together before parting ways but still staying in touch.

You were drawn back to the present when Dean let out a breath of air as he stirred awake.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, a smile on his full lips when he opened his eyes. He sat up on his elbow and tilted your chin up with his finger. “My god, how are you so beautiful?” You giggled a little before he bent down and kissed you.

He sat up further and slipped an arm under you, bringing you to the center of the bed. He caged you beneath him by putting his hands on either side of you as your hands went into his already ruffled hair. You brought him back down and kissed him again, his left hand moving again and trailing down your side, bringing your bare thigh up to graze his own.

You could tell where things were going so you stopped him, “Dean.”

“Y/n,” he mumbled back.

“Dean, wait,” you said quietly.

“What is it?” he asked, looking down at you.

“How, um, how serious is this?” you asked.

“What?” He furrowed his brows a little.

“Is this a one-night thing?”

“Oh,” he realized. “Um, it can be, if that’s what you want.”

“Is that…what you want?” you asked.

He looked into your eyes and slowly shook his head negatively, your smile returning to your flushed face.

“I was kinda thinking this would be at least a two-night thing,” he said, showing off his adorable smirk and making you roll your eyes a little. He bent down and kissed you. “Maybe a three-night thing.”

“A four-night thing?” you teased.

“I think you’re gonna be stuck with me for a lot longer than that, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your mouth.

“You really think?” you asked, smiling.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m kinda in love with you.” He stopped kissing you, realizing what he said. “I, uh, I mean, not—fuck, I really am. I’m sorry.”

“Dean,” you interrupted his spiraling, “I’m kinda in love with you too.”

“Oh thank goodness,” he whispered and kissed you again.

#spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #by mind empty just fictional people #by mind empty just fictional people #<- still no clue why these are two different tags #by jean

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alltimefail · 21 days

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Hi @netflix and @warnerbrostv! I'd like to talk about the show Supernatural and how its history and legacy can provide some insight on why you should reconsider your decision to end Dead Boy Detectives after one singular season.

Supernatural is undoubtedly one of the most successful television fantasy franchises, but many don't know that it was nearly cancelled after season 2. Thankfully (and luckily) for the network they didn't go through with cancelling the show and by season 4 it was regularly breaking viewership records. A show that was nearly cut short in its prime - much like Dead Boy Detectives - became one of the largest and most recognizable fandoms across social media platforms between the years of 2010 and 2014. The show was so wildly popular that a confession scene between two of its leading characters (Dean and Cas) is STILL used today in a meme format to circulate everything from fandom news to world politics and current events. You can't go to a single comic-con without running into something relating to Supernatural, and ever since its conclusion there has been an opening in the market for a show to take its place.

I can say with absolute certainty that, given the proper time to flourish, Dead Boy Detectives would be the show to fill the spot Supernatural has left behind. It has loads of charm alongside a sensational balance of action, whimsy, heartwrenching character development, and horror. Furthermore it is objectively better with representation than Supernatural was, which is always something embraced in fandom spaces (which are diverse and filled to the brim with queer, neurodivergent, and/or a wide range of people of color).

I also think it's fair to remind you that one of your most popular "Nerd" shows, Stranger Things, is coming to an end after a 10-year-run, leaving behind yet another gap to fill, but this time on your very own platform.

It isn't too late to reconsider the cancellation of Dead Boy Detectives. The fanbase is dedicated and hungry for more, and we know you are currently sitting on finished season 2 scripts, making it impossible for the writers to take this story anywhere else for quite some time. The scripts are there, the cast, crew, and writers love what they do and want to make more... there's simply no reason to not give Dead Boy Detectives the chance it deserves - this time with an entire fandom that wants nothing more than to consume this show, market the hell out of it, and buy merch relating to it (another win for you).

(Source x)

Oh and did I mention that Steve Yockey was a co-producer on Supernatural as well? You know, that wildly popular show I just told you about that lasted 15 seasons. You are sitting on a golden goose; Steve Yockey and Beth Schwartz, among the other talented writers, cast, and crew, know what they're doing.

Give this show its time and market it well and you will have a hit on your hands. Frankly just based on the steady, continual fandom growth since Dead Boy Detectives' release in April and the vocal outrage over its cancellation just in the last 24 hours, I'd argue you already have a hit on your hands that rivals several shows you currently have on your platform.

Dead Boy Detectives has one of the most active fandoms of the year - do the right thing by them and bring Dead Boy Detectives back. It isn't too late!

#dead boy detectives #dbda #renew dead boy detectives #revive dead boy detectives #save dead boy detectives #the dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #the dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives netflix #dbda netflix #supernatural

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qqueenofhades · 2 months

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For creative writing purposes, can you go into what a typical day is for a professor? Like what their teaching schedule looks like, when most fit in their research time, etc?

Ahaha, well. I don't want to just say "you can completely make it up," but also.... you can pretty much just make it up, and what is the case for one professor is definitely not going to be true for another. I have known people who will send emails at 1am and/or 4am, and actually finding and fitting in research time for most academics is also "lololololol what." So I can give you a roster of typical daily academic tasks and categories, and then let you know if that if you want to throw them up in the air and scatter them around in literally whatever-the-fuck order, there is probably a beleaguered academic who has done that, but with an even worse sleep schedule. So:

Most permanent faculty at a university are hired as assistant (tenure-track) professors. Once they pass the tenure-committee review (usually about 5 years into the job) they are appointed as associate (tenured) professors. Full professors are considerably senior and/or have been in the field for a long time and have a distinguished service record, excluding various wunderkinds who get it early (but are not common).

If the faculty is just teaching one class a semester or has an irregular appointment, i.e. they step in to teach when the university needs them, they are adjunct professors. You can gain a lot of cred and/or commiserating groaning in your AO3 comments by complaining about how little money the adjunct faculty makes, how erratic their schedule is, and how there is generally little-to-no actual career advancement possible in that position, unless they manage to reapply to a permanent post.

There are also a lot of Visiting Assistant Professors (and similar title), for 2- or 3-year/non-permanent appointments. Many institutions now also offer 1-year VAPs with only a possibility of renewal for 1 additional year or not at all. Those institutions should go straight to hell.

Most professors have 3/3 teaching loads, i.e. they'll teach 3 classes per semester (assuming winter/spring semester). Others have 2/2/2 loads for trimesters (also known as quarters). It can be more, i.e. 4/4, but that's for sucky entry-level teaching-only positions and someone in that role would be unlikely to have any research or service (i.e. institutional committee or internal college) commitments. They would probably also mostly be teaching introductory or freshman-year general survey courses. It depends on how much you want to torture your fictional academic.

Free food? Yes. You will see a healthy amount of the department there, whether faculty or student.

Please remember to have your fictional academic receive approximately 50 student emails a day wherein they ask something that is clearly answered in the syllabus or on the course website, and to see how polite they can possibly be in telling said student this.

Most grading is now done online, so the red pen is only metaphorical, but you can leave SO many Pointed Comments on Canvas Speed Grader. But if you want to torture Dr. Blorbo, you can have the e-grading system suddenly stop working, so they have to grade three classes' worth of introductory freshman history essays by hand. Not based on real events.

Likewise, there will be endless bullshit with the dean's office and/or central university administration, wherein there will be so many Urgent Budget Updates and Breaking News From The Chancellor and We Regret To Inform You We Cannot Hire Someone For That Position.

Related to the budget woes: they will ask you to do things like "make sure you print on both sides of the paper!" or otherwise "economize." Contemplating murder is acceptable and encouraged.

The administrative assistant in each department holds the entire department together. They will be extremely indispensable. Your fictional academic, if they know what's good for them, will befriend that person and/or grovel at their feet. Said person is also usually responsible for scheduling classrooms, which can cause all kinds of juicy drama in the academic fandom if there is One Particular Classroom that everyone hates and lo and behold, Dr. Blorbo is stuck there yet again. They will then probably also fire off multiple passive-aggressive emails attempting to correct the problem. The administrative assistant can grant and/or ignore these requests at their discretion, depending on how much beef they have with Dr. Blorbo and/or how motivated they are to solve their problems.

Department meetings! Who asked for them? Nobody! Who has to attend them? Everybody! They go on for two hours every other week (possibly more depending on how meeting-happy your department chair is) and you will wish for death!

Likewise, the department staff sending out passive-aggressive emails about how they really NEED one more volunteer for (insert university event here). Dr. Blorbo, if they are smart, will delete these emails and pretend they never saw them, but sometimes it may be unavoidable. Bitching and moaning will follow.

For research: it really depends on what academic field Dr. Blorbo is in, since the hard sciences, etc. look quite different and I, as a humanities person, can't speak to that. Most academics aim to fairly regularly publish a piece in a peer-reviewed journal; you can check Dr. Blorbo's field to see what journals they might be trying to submit a journal article (usually max. 8000 words, sometimes more) to.

This will go through a process called Peer Review, wherein two anonymous academics review your work (also anonymized to them) to make sure that you are not talking out of your ass. It is a running joke that Reviewer 2 will always, ALWAYS be more grumpy and critical and otherwise annoying. Invoking the specter of Dr. Blorbo receiving a peer review evaluation for their article will send a shiver down every academic's spine.

If Dr. Blorbo has recently finished their PhD, they may be working on converting their PhD thesis into an academic monograph. The most horrible part of this process, hands down, is reviewing proofs to make an index. Don't ask me how I know this.

However, academic monographs take a lot of time and work and most academics are mostly focused on publishing journal articles, book chapters (in collected volumes) or editing/working in collaboration with other projects.

Likewise: Dr. Blorbo will have to write book reviews. This is accomplished by the very scientific method of subscribing to various industry publications and/or email lists that will sometimes send out lists of books that need to be reviewed and solicit people to sign up. You will then receive a hard copy of the book (usually) and have 3 months or so to read it and write a review. The first 2 months of this, give or take, will consist of the book sitting untouched on the academic's desk as they remind themselves that they still have plenty of time to do it.

There can, however, be INCREDIBLE beef in book reviews, and while the standards of professional courtesy dictate that you don't go great-guns-flaming calling someone else in your field a moron (in more technical language), sometimes it is unavoidable.

Do they get paid for any of this extra intellectual work? Lol. No. No they do not. They don't get paid enough for their actual job.

Dr. Blorbo will inevitably hear some Hot Gossip about what nonsense has recently happened at which field-specific conference (where academics go to present research papers and network with other academics and make regrettable decisions at the open bar). They will then rush to secretly text all their other academic friends with OOH JUICY ACADEMIC DRAMA. Their friends will do the same whenever the opportunity arises to reciprocate.

Removing the coffee machine from the break room/faculty kitchen is grounds for mutiny.

Anyway. I am sure there are many, MANY more, but if you want an authentic slice of long-suffering academic life for Dr. Blorbo, this is all a good place to start.

#anonymous #ask #school stuff #academia: not even once #don't ask me how i know this: the post

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 days

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Burn Out

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you try to juggle hunting with school, but one day you just can’t do it anymore.

“Hey kid, we need you in the war room.”

The knock on your door followed by Sam’s voice had your head shooting up from its position on your notebook.

“What?” You mumbled under your breath, before you got your bearings. “Oh no…”

You looked down at the notebook in front of you—under the drool, there was a half-finished history report. It was due tomorrow, and you hadn’t been able to get started on it until an hour ago, because you and your brothers had been on a hunt. How could you have fallen asleep on it? You had to get this done!

“Y/N?” Sam knocked again. “Can you hear me?”

“I—yeah!” You closed your notebook—hunting was more important; people’s lives were more important. You could finish the report later. “I’m coming.”

…

“I think we should call it a night,” Dean said. You stole a glance at your watch as you put down the lore book that you weren’t even halfway through—it was almost 2 a.m.

“Good idea,” Sam agreed, slamming his own book shut and heading for his room.

“Go and get some sleep,” Dean told you, reaching over your shoulder and closing your book for you. “We can finish this tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure how that was possible, since tomorrow was a school day, but you didn’t argue with Dean. You stumbled back to your bedroom, heading not for your bed, but for your report.

…

You never did make it to your bed. You were pretty sure that you dozed a few times—or at least blinked really long—but you still ended up finishing your report in time.

As soon as it was done, you got yourself ready for school, taking a quick shower and hoping it was enough to make you look refreshed.

Your next stop was the kitchen; you were hoping you had enough time for some breakfast before Dean took you to school. Only, Dean wasn’t in the kitchen like he normally was. Curious, you checked the library, the war room, the shooting gallery, and finally the garage—not only were Sam and Dean not there, but neither was the Impala.

There were only a few options; a last-second hunt (except they would’ve told you they were going), the local library for more books (which hadn’t been necessary lately with all of the books in the bunker library), the grocery store (except the kitchen was fairly well stocked), or a diner for an excuse to get out of the bunker. You figured the last option was most likely—none of the others made sense, and the guys had to be stir-crazy after all the research. They must have wanted to let you sleep in, which meant they must also have forgotten you had school.

“It’s ok,” you mumbled to yourself. “I can still make it.” You’d have to skip breakfast, but if you ran you might still make it to class on time even without the Impala.

It was going to be a long day.

…

You didn’t make it in time, but you were fast enough to just get a tardy instead of an absence.

“Glad you could join us,” the teacher greeted as he gestured towards a seat—in the front.

You didn’t respond as you collapsed into the seat, reaching into your backpack to pull out your report when your phone buzzed.

Dean: Where r u?

So he had forgotten about school. He was probably too sleep-deprived to remember what day it was; you could relate to that. You were just typing out a response when you noticed a shadow over your desk.

“I’ll take your report,” your teacher stated, holding his hand out. “And your phone.”

“But I was just—“

“Your phone, please.”

You handed your phone and your report over without another word, hoping Dean would remember where you were on his own—the last thing you wanted was to freak him out.

“Now, if we’re done with distractions, we need to get started.”

…

You tried to get your phone back at the end of class, but your teacher assured you that—

“You’ll get it at the end of the day. Just stop by the office before you go home.”

—which was bad enough, but when he followed it up with—

“Oh, and I think you should take this back.” He held out your report.

“Wha—why?” You asked, your heart sinking.

“It was supposed to be three pages, not two. If you get it back to me tomorrow with three pages, I won’t have to dock as many points. I think it’s your best option.”

“Um—ok.” You took the report, hoping that you’d actually get the chance to get that third page by tomorrow.

“Just a page more,” your teacher said. “Maybe expound a little more on the individual paragraphs and you’ll be good. And try not to stay up too late doing it,” he added. “I’m guessing things have been pretty busy with you lately—you never used to forget stuff like this. Are you—“

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “I just…I have to get to class.”

You turned on your heel, and your teacher didn’t try to stop you. You knew he was just concerned about you, but in your life you couldn’t afford to have people be curious about you. It never turned out well.

And you just couldn’t take anything else going wrong.

…

You’d forgotten to bring your lunch or any money to buy some from the cafeteria, so you hid out in the bathroom for most of your lunch hour. You got told off by three separate teachers for dozing in class, and there was a pop quiz in the last period over reading that you hadn’t had time to do.

When the final bell rang, you couldn’t get out of your seat fast enough. You made a beeline for the office, hoping that your phone hadn’t been blown up with messages—hoping that Dean wasn’t freaking out.

You didn’t get a chance to find out; you’d forgotten to charge your phone last night, so by the time you picked it up from the secretary, it was dead.

“It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine,” you muttered to yourself over and over on the walk home. You would get home, your brothers would be fine, you’d take a little nap…

You opened the door to the bunker, but you didn’t make it halfway down the stairs before.

“Sam! She’s here!”

Dean caught you at the bottom of the stairs, his hands going to your shoulders, which he gripped tightly.

“What is wrong with you?! Where were you? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“Dean, I—“

Dean wasn’t listening.

“You can’t just disappear like that! Sam and I have been going insane! Of all the stupid, irresponsible things to do—“ Dean cut himself off, waving an angry hand in front of his face as if waving off the rant. He didn’t even notice the way your face was scrunching up, or the tears that were beginning to track down your cheeks. “You know what, forget about that. Forget about how you scared the crap out of us, and people are dying out there because we had to stop researching the hunt to look for you. Forget about how you made us think you coulda been dead. Where. Were. You?!” Dean’s grip was back on your shoulders, and he was shaking you. His face was tight with rage, his form towering over your own.

“I-I—“ your voice squeaked and broke, but Dean was still stiff with rage and waiting for your answer, so you tried again. Your voice was as tiny as you felt right now as you finally managed to choke out. “I was at school.” You didn’t notice the way Dean’s face changed—the anger melting from it as realization hit him like a train—because your eyes were too full of tears. “They—I—“ you wanted to tell him they took your phone, you wanted to tell him that you tried to find him before you left, you wanted to tell him you were doing your best…but you couldn’t. You couldn’t find it in you to give any excuses that could make him yell at you like that again. “I’m sorry, I…I’ll go help Sam with research.”

You ran past Dean, heading for the library.

“Dang it,” Dean mumbled under his breath, smacking the wall with his fist as he huffed. “So stupid, I’m so stupid!” He took a long moment to breathe, not wanting to look angry when he saw you again.

He had enough of a mess to fix already.

…

No one was in the library when you got there, so you went right to pulling books off the shelves.

After the first few books, you spotted one on a higher shelf. You were just reaching for it when you heard—

“Y/N!”

You turned around to see Sam heading right for you. You were already stumbling out an apology before he even reached you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I thought you—“ you were blubbering, having not stopped crying since your encounter with Dean. Sam noticed immediately and his approach slowed as his hands rose innocently.

“Whoa, hey, it’s ok, you’re ok.” Sam continued to step forwards, but that just made you feel cornered against the bookshelf, and you started to panic as you couldn’t make yourself stop crying.

“I’m sorry Sammy, I was at school, I’m gonna help you now, I’m sorry I’m sorry—“

You didn’t notice the books slipping from your hands until they clattered to the floor. Your hands were starting to shake, and your knees were shaking so hard that you had to slowly lower yourself in a crouching position on the floor before you fell. You tucked your head into your knees, finally letting out all the stress of the past weeks as you sobbed.

“Hey hey hey…” Sam knelt down next to you and grabbed onto your shoulders. “It’s ok, just take some deep breaths. You’re ok.”

You could hardly breathe between sobs, but you tried your best to listen to your big brother’s instructions.

“Kid?” Your head lifted just a little when you heard Dean’s voice. He joined Sam next to you. “Slow down, sweetheart. Breathe.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whimpered, taking deep breaths between words. “They took my phone and I didn’t know what—“

“It’s ok, don’t explain,” Dean insisted. “Just keep taking deep breaths for me, ok?”

“Ok.” You sniffled, grabbing on to Dean’s offered hand and breathing slowly until your sobs subsided.

“Good, good.” Dean sat back on his heels, running a hand over his face. “I should’ve slowed it down, I should’ve known we were burning you out.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled. “I thought maybe you would figure it out—I can help you now—“

“No, no” Sam interrupted. “This isn’t your fault, don’t apologize. And the research can wait—I think you should get some sleep.”

“And food,” Dean added. “Did you eat today?”

You rubbed your sleeve over your face, trying to stop your tears.

“You don’t have to baby me,” you said finally. “I-I can still help you guys.”

“Not today,” Sam countered. “And maybe not for a little while. We’ve been burning you out too much.”

“Look,” Dean added before you could argue. “Sometimes we can forget that you’re still just a kid, and you still have kid stuff to worry about—like school. That’s on us, not you. This isn’t your fault; we need to do better. And that starts with making sure you take care of yourself. So go get some food, and get some sleep. Everything else can wait, ok?”

You hesitated. “Ok.” You let your brothers help you to your feet, and then you couldn’t help yourself—you pulled Dean in for a hug, burying your head in his jacket. You felt his body shake a little as he chuckled.

“You’re ok kid,” he said, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s ok,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Ok.” Dean was smiling as you pulled away. “Now get going.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

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cap-winter-barnes · 2 months

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Warnings: Dean Winchester, need I say more?

"Do you believe in soulmates?" There's a romance book balanced in between your hands as you blurt out the thought in your head. "No don't laugh. I'm being serious."

Dean is chuckling away to himself opposite you as he reads up on more lore for your most recent hunt. The raise of his eyebrows irks you even more so.

"Are you really telling me that you don't believe in soulmates?" You've never sounded so shocked at something Dean-related. Yet despite all the other times you've been shocked, you're more curious to understand why.

"Sweetheart, did you really think that I'd believe in all that crap?" He scoffs and then continues to pretend to read, his eyes glancing back to you as your attention briefly reverts back to your novel.

"That's it? No, oh but Dean, there has to be a thing such as soulmates, yadda yadda yadda? No? Okay." He knows just how to push your buttons but you hold your ground, trying to focus your mind on the romance playing out on the pages in front of you. But you swear if the older Winchester says one more word you're going to lose it.

It's your own fault for getting yourself in this unnecssary conversation in the first place. Your mind running away with the story in front of you, thoughts of Dean popping into your hea- wait, Dean?

You thought you were past your little crush on your best friend. But clearly your heart hasn't understood that memo. You've known Dean for as long as you can remember and there's always been that spark between you. Yet neither of you have ever admitted to anything. That one night where an unexpected drunken kiss occurred, pushed to the backs of both of your minds. Or so you thought.

Of course Dean believes in soulmates... He's sitting right next to his. Yet he keeps his mouth shut, fearful of rejection. Why would you - A beautiful woman with amazing humour, knowledge and good looks - want to be with a guy like him? He has red flags up and down the chart - he's a walking red flag. Of course he's been dreaming of the apple pie life since he was a boy - a family to love and care for, the picket fence, the calm, quiet house on a farm somewhere - but how the hell was he supposed to get that with the life he led?

Y/N has been by his side for a majority of his life after meeting as children and he has been enamoured with you since. Love at first sight? Check! Still in love with you all these years later? Check!

You're literally the angel of his dreams and he's too scared to do anything about it.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #winchester x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles

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green-typewriterz · 6 months

Note

i would love literally anything sam winchester related the lack of fics r astounding.. maybe something fluffy?? ive had a bad week would so cheer me up

Best fake-real husband

ASKS ARE OPEN

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: You and Sam go undercover in a small town to find out what's been happening to the disappearing couples.

ASK: above

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, awkward moments, mid season sam (in my mind it’s season 5 so its not following canon plot)

Author notes: Thankyou so much for the ask!!! I hope this is good :))) also Sam is the leader of the Sassy man army and if you don’t think so you can leave. Also thank you to @midsummeranderson for helping me plan <3

word count: 4110

You had always hated suburban houses, they just seemed empty, unforgiving. Though you didn’t have much of a choice. Bobby had a case and you two were to go undercover.

”Husband and wife…” Sam began, a glint in his eyes as he moved around the open plan kitchen, opening the windows to salve the heat that bit at their necks.

You smiled in reply, laying out weapons to move to the spare room. “Not awkward at all.” You replied and he laughed, shrugging his usual flannel onto a chair and digging into his bag.

Sam looked up, smiling, holding two rings in his hand. “Nope. I’m going to be the best fake-real husband ever. Dean thinks I can’t and I’m kinda determined to prove him wrong.” You sigh and shake your head, but there’s no annoyance behind it. Trust Dean to make a game out of it.

A piece of hair fell in front of his eyes - it’s so long now that it reaches his shoulders, princelike. “Well then I guess I’ll have to be a good wife.” He hummed in agreement and you tucked his hair back behind his ear and a smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’m off to a good start, Sam Heathcliff.”

You gently slipped the ring onto your finger, the metal slightly too big for you. It was your grandmothers, a mix of silver and sapphire. Sam places his dad’s wedding band on his own hand, fiddling with it gently. It made you smile softly, how the ring was cold against your skin - your grandmother had always wanted you to wear it.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your memories and the two of you looked to each other with confusion, Dean wasn’t meant to be here until later that evening. You opened the door cautiously, flitting into character when you saw a 57 year old woman holding a large pie in her hands.

She grinned cheerily, pushing the dish forward into your hands as she spoke, you didn’t really have another choice but to take it (you’d probably hand it off to Dean later.) “Hi,” the voice sounded fake, satirical. She never met your eyes, she was almost entirely focused on Sam. “I heard there was a new couple in town, thought I’d do the neighbourly thing and say hi.” She began, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a particularly suggestive manner. “We’d love to have you over this weekend, monthly barbeque.”

You looked at Sam, who looked entirely uncomfortable with the attention he was receiving and wrapped your arms around his waist. “We’d love to…” you waited for a name, the woman smiled with annoyance, as if she hated you speaking to her.

“Helen. Watson.”

The two of you introduced yourself and agreed to go, knowing the gathering would be useful to get information. With one last glance at Sam, Helen turned around and left, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Dean came round that evening, constantly grinning and mocking and (as you had expected) he greeted the pie with open arms. “Look you two,” he began, as if he were an expert on the subject, “You’re practically a couple already, just… act like you’re in your honeymoon phase for the old women.”

He stated this as if it were an obvious fact and you raised your brows at his use of the word ‘honeymoon’. Sam looked away in annoyance (Something Dean found extremely funny). It seemed as though the younger Winchester couldn’t wait to get rid of Dean and so, as soon as he had finished his pie, he was forced out the door and back to the impala. There was a second sigh of relief when the door closed.

Though it had seemed like a smart idea at the time, the two of you were sorely regretting filling the spare room with hunting gear as it had left you with one bedroom. “I’ll take the couch,” Sam said as he gathered some clothes to sleep in, you stood in the doorway, arms folded as you shook your head.

“Not a chance, you’d barely fit on this bed imagine how uncomfortable you'd be downstairs.” You argued and he shook his head, trying to claim that he’d slept worse. Eventually, the two of you came to an agreement. Sam would sleep over the covers, you’d sleep under them (he always got hot at night anyway - especially during the summer).

You excused yourself to the bathroom and by the time you had gotten back Sam was already asleep, long hair falling gently over his eyes. You lay down beside him and got comfortable, though you forgot just how much Sam moved in his sleep. He seemed to subconsciously move closer to you, warm, tan skin flush against yours.

His face was inches from yours, holding a gentle smile as if he were happily dreaming (though that was something that didn’t happen often). You gently moved the hair from his eyes and he moved closer still, broad shoulders brushing against you. You fell asleep in the comfort of his warmth and awoke with his arms wrapped securely around you. He wasn’t awake yet, you always woke up before him.

You eventually found it in yourself to move from his grip and headed downstairs, intending to make breakfast for the two of you. He was downstairs a few moments later, hair a sweet, tousled mess on his head. You smiled sweetly but neither of you spoke - there wasn’t much need to.

The two of you seemed to move around each other as if you had been married for years as you got ready for the barbeque, passing each other what you needed wordlessly. Chalk it up to years of hunting together.

“Todays gonna be entertaining for me.” You stated, a smirk on your face. He tilted his head in confusion as if he were a dog and you smiled, eyes drifting to his shoulders for a moment. “C’mon Sam, it’s a town of 47 year old women who hate their husbands and you’re a - very awkward - 6 '4 man. A handsome one at that.” He blushed and turned away, continuing to get ready.

His hands fiddled with the jacket in front of him. “Yeah, so?” You smiled at him, opening the front door as you spoke again.

“So, it’s gonna be fun watching you squirm.” Your smile turned to a grin and Sam shook his head, following you out the door.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You were right, as expected. Although most were fine, one specific group of women made an exaggerated effort to fan themselves, whispering to each other about Sam. They almost immediately ushered you over. You sent a look to your best friend and headed toward them.

Immediately, they began to gossip, asking you about how you and Sam met and you could barely get a word in edgeways. There were compliments thrown at you too, but you knew they were just to stop you ‘feeling jealous.’

“How did you get so lucky?” One woman, Helen, asked. Her voice was wrought with envy as she stared over at Sam. Part of you understood why they were staring, Sam looked strangely good in the traditional small town husband attire. His white polo had a few buttons undone and the fabric was tight on his arms (Dean had ordered the wrong size) and his long hair was held back from his head by a pair of sunglasses, a few stray pieces falling over his eyes. The only part you weren’t a fan of was the khaki shorts…but it seemed to be the dress code in the town so you brushed it off - you and Dean would probably make fun of him for it later. He felt his gaze on you and turned to meet your eyes, smiling softly and winking. The women around you giggled and you rolled your eyes, to which he laughed.

It turned out that talking to the four women was the best thing for the case, they absolutely adored gossip. “Couples have been going missing, it always starts with the husbands.” Margaret whispered excitedly, “It happened to the couple who were here before you, sweet things.” she continued, sipping on a glass of wine.

You tilted your head, something Sam recognised from a distance, you’d had an idea. “Do they leave anything behind? People can’t just disappear?” You asked, pulling your hand through your hair.

Helen shook her head. “The damn council barely clean out the houses.” You nodded. Bingo. If the house hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned, chances are there’d be evidence. Helen continued to ramble and you were listening intently, until a hand gently slid onto your waist.

You let out a gasp but the strong smell of cedarwood and amber calmed you down. You knew exactly who it was. His grip pulls tighter around you and you lean into him, head resting on his chest. You felt your face flush - something you were praying he didn’t notice.

“How did you two meet?” One woman asked and you looked at each other, making sure without ever even speaking that you had the story right.

Sam leaned his head on yours and sweetly said, “why don’t you take this one, honey.” his eyes sparkled with mischief, he was trying to throw you off and the hand that was massaging your side was proof of that.

You met his eyes with the same excitement, if he wanted to play, you were really going to go for it. “We both worked as government agents, met on the field. Hence all the scars.” The women nodded in realisation, looking at some of the injuries you hadn’t quite managed to hide. “He wasn’t the biggest fan of mine at first but I grew on him, isn’t that right darling?”

Sam nodded, his eyes not leaving yours as he replied, “and now I don’t want to be without her ever again.” He found that sentence to be more true than he thought.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Sam sent an exasperated look your way as he raked a hand through his hair (and sadly took the glasses off his head). “How were the boys?” you asked with a smile and he turned to make sure no one was watching before dropping the facade.

“I’m actually shocked how much I don’t know about football.” He replied and you both laughed, him leaning into you as he smiled. He looked outside at the group of gossipping women before adding on, “they seemed…friendly.”

You laughed, “to you, sure, but I think it’s because they want you in their bed.” The sentence was blunt and Sam’s eyes widened, cheeks blushing a strong red. You, however, continued as if you had never said anything, “I think it could be witches? We’d have to search for hex bags though.” He nodded, not meeting your eyes (he was slightly flustered).

The two of you eventually said your goodbyes and made your way down the street, Sam looked annoyed with himself. “What’s up?”

He sighed, “this one guy, Glenn, roped me into holding a housewarming party…” You stared at him incredulously, did he not try to say no? Sam recognised the look in your eyes and defended himself, “the man was incredibly persuasive!” You shook your head but knew there was no way out of it. You weren’t the best at party planning.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The long stretch of grocery store met you as you and Sam stood in the doorway. You didn’t often do this as hunters so it was a slightly daunting task. You looked at each other with tired eyes and went your separate ways, deciding to cover ground as if it were a hunt…just for nachos.

You rounded a corner only to see Helen stood there. Not wanting to be stuck in conversation again, you instantly turned on your heel, hiding behind a row of sauces. Though, something caught your eye. In Helen’s basket, clearly hidden just not very well, was a large amount of herbs and salt. What got you interested was the extreme amount of basil and sage.

Witches. Had to be.

Sam approached you, smiling gently. Something about the situation made him look so… domestic. You tried to motion to him what you were thinking but he seemed so fixated on you, his reaching out for yours. “Can you do your job?” you spoke, the words sounding harsher than you had intended. He instantly pulled back, face twisting with annoyance.

“What?”

“Take the hint, Sam. Behind me.”

You continued to whisper back and forth in annoyance, alerting Helen who watched in confusion. You quickly turned to look at her and sighed as she approached, hiding the herbs with the rest of her groceries. “Lovers quarrel?” she joked and the two of you laughed in the same way Bobby would when Dean told another of his bad jokes.

Sam made excuses as you looked at her, trying to see if you could spot any witch runes on her. It seemed as though she was trying to do the same to you. “Well isn’t that tattoo…neat!” She said, trying to hide the venom in her voice as she pointed out the anti-possession tattoo on your collarbone. Great.

You looked at Sam in annoyance and turned back to Helen. “Thanks! I saw it in a magazine!” You tried to explain away but you knew you’d been caught, she had spotted you and you her. Though she was very keen to stay in conversation, Sam made a quick excuse and you both left as soon as you could.

“Told you it was witches.”

Sam didn’t reply. The car journey back was completely silent, an unspoken annoyance building in the both of you. Neither of you said a word until the front door closed. “Nice job letting her see the tattoo.” Sam said annoyedly, turning to look at you.

You sighed and turned away, packing away the groceries. “Maybe if you spent less time flirting and more time actually hunting we’d be done by now! This isn’t exactly a hard case, we don't need more bodies to our name.” The reply was sharp and annoyed.

He suddenly grabbed your wrist so you’d look at him. “I’m doing my job just fine.” His eyes were locked with yours. You stepped closer.

“No, you’re not. You’re distracted.” Sam scoffed, his minty breath fanning against your cheek from how close you were. His hand was still firmly on your wrist.

An annoyed smile spread across his face and a muscle in his neck tensed. “Oh yeah? And why would I be distracted?” You stared directly at him, from his long hair that fell over his unreadable gaze to the smoothness of his bronzed skin.

You found yourself stepping closer again. “You tell me.”

There was a crushing silence, the only sound being your sharp breaths. Suddenly, Sam’s grip on your hand moved to your waist and he pulled you into him, his lips colliding with yours. You leaned into him, hands grabbing his hair harshly. He kissed you as if he were hungry, as if he had been waiting for years - maybe he had. He lifted you easily and sat you on the kitchen counter, leaning back from the kiss for a split second. His chest rose quickly in hot breaths as he kissed you again. You bit his bottom lip - letting blood drip as his hands gripped your skin.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The party was loud and irritating, there wasn’t a moment where you had time for yourself, not one point where you weren’t ’y/n Heathcliff’. You and Sam had barely talked after the evening before - you didn’t know what to say.

You knew Helen would be at the party, not only would it be good to keep up appearances but she could get her next victim from it. Sam sent you a look and you nodded once, heading toward the spare bedroom in search of weapons, just in case.

A small, easily hidden knife was being placed into your waistband when Sam opened the door, closing it harshly behind him. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “had to get away from Miriam.”

You laughed gently and went back to preparing, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Helen’s here.”

“I know.”

Silence again. You sighed, “and you just left her out there? Alone?” His brows furrowed and he offered a witty remark, starting another hushed argument between the two of you.

On the other side of the door, Miriam and Margaret pressed their ears to the wood, giggling like school children at how the argument sounded to them. Through the muffled walls, all they could hear was gasps and sharp noises - of course they assumed what they wanted.

Sam’s hands pushed through his hair as he sighed, uncertain of what to do, when suddenly the door started opening. He rushed forward and pushed against it, rushing out a quick, “one moment!” All he heard in reply was laughs.

“What do we do?” He asked nervously and you stood still, nervous, until a thought popped into your head. You held your hands out - asking for permission and, once he nodded, you placed your hands gently in his soft hair, ruffling it. It annoyed you how he still managed to look good.

Then, once he had done the same for you, you looked him up and down, deciding his outfit was far too…tidy. First it was one button undone, then another (you unbuttoned a third for personal reasons). A blush rose on the tips of his ears.

He went to open the door when you realised something was still missing and, in a quick moment of panic, you rushed forward and grabbed his face, kissing him harshly on the lips (you were purposely trying to smudge your lipstick onto him). Sam made a noise in shock but found himself leaning into it, eyes lingering closed for a moment longer after you had pulled away.

Shit. He thought. He definitely liked you.

Eventually, the door was opened and Sam met the two women with an awkward smile. “Oh!’ Margaret began, giggling, “I was going to offer a drink, but I see you’re occupied…” The woman looked at one another, laughed again and walked away, leaving Sam blushing with embarrassment. The door was closed once more and when you were both sure they had walked away, laughter spilt into the room.

He shook his head and smiled, stepping closer to you. “Close one.” You smiled gently, staring into his eyes (the light was hitting them perfectly). There was silence again - neither of you knew what to do.

”Are we ever going to talk about last night?” You asked, thinking about how his hands felt on your skin. His features turned more serious as he sat down on the bed.

He stared at you, lipstick still in a smudge on his face. “I’m not sure what to say about it.” You neared him, hands trailing over his shoulders. Then, slowly, you leaned into him, lifting his chin with your finger as you felt his soft lips against yours. There was something impossibly gentle about it and you weren’t sure anyone had kissed you that softly before.

”Maybe we don’t need to say anything.”

He smiled. You kissed the corner of his grin and headed back downstairs, attempting to fix your hair as you went. You were met with stares as you entered the kitchen - Miriam had most definitely told everyone… at least it sold the cover.

Time passed with an almost excruciating level of slowness and Sam not making a re-entrance back downstairs wasn’t helping either (you had no one to distract you). Eventually, the party cleared out yet Sam was nowhere to be seen - now you began to panic.

You said goodbye to the final few neighbours and headed back upstairs, calling Sam’s name. The lack of response worried you. The first door by the stairs - the one that unfortunately led to your weapons room - was ajar, scratches around the lock. You pulled the dagger from your waistband and slowly opened the door, sighing as you saw the bloodstain on the floor. You had a feeling you knew who had taken him and where he had gone.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You had managed to track him to Helen’s house, hiding around the back to get a good view through the sliding glass doors. Sat, tied to a chair in the middle of the main room, was Sam. His face was bruised and bloody and his expression looked annoyed, chest heaving with sharp breaths. Helen, Miriam and Margaret circled around him, playing with his hair and gathering items they needed for the spell.

”Poor Sam,” Helen began - you assumed she was the leader, “you’d think you’d be able to fight back against three 57 year olds.” Miriam headed into the kitchen as Margaret laughed, they almost reminded you of the witches from Macbeth.

”You’d also think, considering she’s a hunter, that your ‘wife’ would be better at hiding.” Suddenly, a surprisingly strong pair of hands grabbed you, pushing you against the wall.

You struggled against the grip but it was no use, your hands being painfully tied behind your back. Miriam ushered you into the living room, retiring you to a chair beside Sam. You met his eyes with an apologetic gaze and he returned it.

It was your turn to feel the bunt of the witches’ fun now, knives sliced at your skin and hair was cut from your head, you knew they’d done it somewhere visible on purpose. They grabbed at your face, nails digging into flesh and smiling as Sam protested.

Eventually, the three left the room and you and Sam began planning. You shuffled your chair toward him, trying to see if he could reach the dagger you always hid in your shoe. His hand brushed over your shin but he couldn’t reach any further.

With one final attempt, Sam tried to lean on the chair to reach, which ended with him toppling both chairs. He landed on top of you, his chest flush against yours. “Sorry.” He spoke, words hoarse from lack of breath.

Luckily for you, the fall had broken the ropes around your ankles and - though it hurt like hell - you manoeuvred your leg just enough to read the blade. Sam's hair tickled against your face and his lips tickled your neck - but that was something you’d have to think about later.

“Nice try you two.” Helen spoke as she waltzed back in. You hid the blade in your sleeve as your chair was fixed once more and while the three were busy working, you managed to slice through the ropes. you waited patiently, watching with a newfound confidence. Luckily for you, Maragaret was the type of witch to intimidate - her favourite tactic being getting as close as she could.

You took the opportunity and thrust the blade forward, stabbing through her throat. She screamed out and you stood up making your way over to the other two to fight. You took a fair few punches, but it was nothing new and soon enough the two others were on the floor too, holding onto the last of their life.

The large salt circle was immediately broken and Sam was freed, you apolising every time you accidentally touched any of his injuries. “That was badass.” Sam complimented and you laughed, leaning your hair back tiredly.

You turned away, starting to destroy the spell further as you spoke, “Ready to finally stop being husband and wife?” You asked and a small smirk rose on his face, hands snaking back over your waist again.

With sudden passion, he spun you back around, his eyes glinting. “Not really.”

With that, Sam lifted you off the ground, hands securely gripping your thighs as he kissed your neck. You had your back pushed against the wall as he moved to kiss your lips, your hands pulling at the back of his hair. He sighed and went to kiss you again when the front door swung open, revealing a disgusted (but slightly relieved) Bobby and a grinning Dean.

”We can explain?” Sam offered, gently lowering you back to the ground. You couldn’t look at one another.

Dean shook his head, smiling like a madman. “I don’t know Sammy, seems pretty obvious to me.” Then, with the same giddy happiness he turned to Bobby, who had since fished a ten dollar bill out of his pocket.

Typical. You and Sam shared an annoyed look as The other two hunters headed back out the door. ‘“C’mon you lovebirds,” Bobby began, “There’s a vamp nest in Chicago.”

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester #fluff #Injury #witches #supernatural #supernatural fic #Sam Winchester the sass queen #sam winchester x fem!reader

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scoobydoodean · 1 year

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ppl get mad when dean’s “love” is “conditional”

but don’t blink when others erect “healthy boundaries” and “respectful expectations”

do you think dean is expected to be this idea of perfect, unconditional love in ways other characters are not?

thx

Hey anon sorry it took me a while to circle back to this! I was trying to find a related post for you but I never found it. :(

I don't know if most people expect Dean to be perfect, but I do believe that without realizing it, a lot of people hold Dean to very unreasonable standards and don't believe he deserves boundaries of any kind—including regarding his own feelings. For example,

Dean is often demonized for not trusting people immediately after they have broken his trust (ex: 4.21, 5.02, 5.05, 6.20) in a way fandom would never demonize Sam or Cas for not trusting Dean after Dean lied to them.

Dean is often criticized for not "opening up" to Sam. Not only is Dean under zero obligation to use Sam as a confidant, but the expectation always seems to be that Dean become "ready" to talk on Sam's timeline, and anything outside of what Sam considers to be an acceptable timeline is criticized by Sam and fandom from some cringe pop psychology perspective on emotional health (2.02, 4.09, 13.04). Sam, on the other hand, is never treated as if he is obligated to open up to Dean, and the countless times he says he doesn't want to talk are immediately dismissed as normal and his boundaries are treated with respect.

Dean was criticized by fandom immediately in season 13 for not parenting Jack correctly and not "being there" for Sam. Dean was very clear that he didn't want to be Jack's mother. Dean was under zero moral obligation, at any point, to adopt Jack and treat him as a son. However, portions of fandom consistently—from 13.01—insisted on judging Dean based on a poor "parenting" performance to someone who was not his kid, and who he explicitly stated he did not want parent. Many fans did and still do criticize Dean for not immediately setting aside his grief over Mary, Cas, and Crowley and joyfully accepting a parenting role over someone he had every reason to believe brainwashed his best friend which lead to his demise. (I say all of this separately from how Dean treated Jack as a house guest).

Dean is expected to forgive Sam and Cas on their timelines (season 5, season 15) but if they are angry at Dean, any length of time they might choose to hold things against him—including indefinitely—is justified and often applauded. In fact, you would often find—especially with Sam—fans over and over cheering Sam on for "standing up for himself finally" as if every time of the dozens of times he did that, it was the first time.

Dean is very popularly demonized for not forgiving Jack for murdering his mother. Jack can kill Mary because he was "scared" or "mad" and that's fine but Dean having a single feeling about it is out of line to this fandom. (As an aside—no—I don't think soulless Jack killing Mary was an accident based on how soulless!Jack described it... but either way it doesn't matter when it comes to how Dean is allowed to feel about it.) Mere hours after the incident occurs, Dean is expected to be flowering Jack with love and forgiveness, and the fact that he didn't makes Dean a monster.

Dean is demonized for putting Jack in the mal'ak box and when the episode aired (and again—continuing to this day within the fandom) it was framed by and large as if Dean was the sole perpetrator of that act, while Sam's role was brushed under the rug or fans straight up insisted Dean somehow "forced" Sam to go along with him (despite Sam very clearly being fucking terrified of Jack). Cas, a single episode later, enquiring about putting Jack in The Cage is also completely dismissed. Nobody gives a single fuck.

Dean saying (he thinks privately to Sam) he doesn't consider Jack family after what happened with Mary. I'll make myself abundantly clear: Dean has every right to feel this way. And let's be real—if Sam said he didn't see Jack as family, almost nobody would give a fuck... which goes for everything on this list?

Which brings me to the why of this ask.

Part of the reason Dean is held to different standards is down to some of fandom's desperate need to perpetuate Dean's childhood parentification by holding him responsible for everyone in his life. Because Dean is Mr. Parentified Child, he MUST accept Jack as his child because that's who Dean is—a defacto parent to everyone in his life, destined to be treated like the universe's mommy and then judged for doing a bad job at a task he does not have the power or authority to handle as if he did have that power and authority... and if he complains he's a selfish, cruel, evil monster.

Another reason is Dean's overarching role in the story, as the narrative heart and the hearth of the house. You cannot miss, in SPN, how central Dean is to the concept of belonging somewhere—of having a home—of being loved. I've said before that Dean's love is practically regarded as a human right in Supernatural. Dean really represents the idea of being loved at all—the intrinsic human need to be loved and accepted by others.

Sam or Cas could say they don't love someone, and it would just be taken as a personal opinion with no greater weight or significance. If Dean says he doesn't love someone, that carries a very special meaning to the fans and has a very special impact on the character who hears it. And while it may hurt another character to hear that from Dean... it also is not fair, in any sense of the word, to treat Dean's love as something everyone is entitled to—to deny his personhood and autono-[gunshots]—to act as if he is obligated to force himself to love everyone—as if that wasn't deeply unfair and also literally impossible.

One of the reasons Jack instantly attaches to Dean like a baby duck in season 13 despite Dean's cold, grief-stricken exterior while Sam is standing right there being "supportive" (besides Sam's poorly-concealed ulterior motives) is that Jack implicitly understands that Dean, whether he wants to be or not, is the Winchester family house. In order to ever feel like you belong in that house—like you are in that family—Dean has to love you. Fans also understand this whether they know they do or not. They know it doesn't matter if Sam says "You're family". If Dean doesn't say it—if Dean doesn't feel it—it will never feel real. Because of this, fans feel an entitlement for Dean to bestow instant love and forgiveness on their faves in a way they would never ask that of Sam or Cas... and they also perceive Dean as aware of his unique role and often perceive him as using it to control others or make the family a dictatorship... when Dean is literally just being a normal human being with boundaries and feelings, who did not choose to be perceived in this way, and whose feelings do not simply stop existing just because of this unfair perception of him and how everyone else is tying their self-esteem to him in ways Dean has zero control over... and their needs do not trump Dean's right to boundaries and feelings as just a guy—as just a human being!

#dean the narrative heart #the hearth of the house #the very touch of you corrupts #mail #dont feed the stans after midnight #parentification

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wanderingconstellations · 1 year

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YUA 🥹 (i assume since i see the name in your tags)

i wanted to share that today was so achieving, i ffffuucking earned a free college scholarship cause i was being unknowingly observed by a dean of a school i wasn't in but only performing and assisting my mother (teacher as well) for a recital with only 2hrs of sleep, (i also read your top posts repeatedly earlier after sifting through stories 🤭)

fuck i just- perhaps want something related to my life long achievement that i never thought i would get, and how about a mean!scara?

a mean, dismissive, cold scaramouche that needs heavy decoding, and seconds before reader falters into sadness, almost leaving, scara mutters something that quickens her heartrate, grabbing her fingers with his instead of her wrist or hand, showing a certain side, and she was met with sudden comforting affectionate gestures, cheek kisses, trailing lower and closer to the corner of her lips, praising her affectionately and lovingly in that moment, before fucking each others mouths for a good while, mean!scara uncharacteristically praising reader genuinely with each gasp of her because- he understood her struggles, her hardwork, and he was just- drunk in an unspoken admiration towards her (cough ME🥹) AND- i dont know what else to put, but i also want to be bred roughly by him- fucking each other like it was the end of the world, and i want reader to cry in happiness and from his rough manhandling during their breeding session — because she just- she's just so genuinely drunken and intoxicated in love, happiness and lust

as if his cum was creating their own future as well

- hiraeth 🤭

MEAN SCARA MEAN SCARA MEAN SCARA

You were breaking down, tired and exhausted that you had tears in your eyes. You were so fucking tired, it was exhausting. You've worked so hard but come so far, you've been exhausting yourself just to get into that damn school, but you never got into it after..how many tries?!

During your crying session, someone comes in and sees you in a state that he's never seen before. Scaramouche kneeled down to where you were, and pulled you into an embrace, and resting your head on his chest.

You immediately broke down in more tears, probably because of him comforting you. You were extremely exhausted, and yet you don't know why Scaramouche was now comforting you. It was out of character for him to do so, but you weren't complaining.

He took your crying face in his hands, then kissing the tears away, peppering kisses all over your face until he got to your lips, placing a gentle peck on them.

"Stop crying you idiot, you've been working hard. It's hard but that's how it is. You've done a lot, and it's admirable. I can see that you've worked hard, to the point where you completely exhausted yourself. I think it's time for you to take a break and unwind.."

Meaning by unwinding, he meant by fucking you til tears are glistening from your eyes, thrusting his cock into your dripping hole while whispering and murmuring sweet praises into your ears, telling of how good you're taking him and how hard you're working. This wasnt your mean and arrogant Scara, this was a completely different person. He was being so sweet with you, peppering kisses all over your body, giving a gentle peck to your lips and worshipping your body as if you were his everything (which you are.)

He would wipe your tears, and kiss them away, the tip of his cock would always kiss your womb with every hard and deep thrust he make. You would claw at his back, whining and crying over how "it's too much" or how "it's too good."

Scaramouche would just snicker and just continue to pound into you like there was no tomorrow. Honestly, he finds your constant whining and crying adorable. He would often smash his lips against yours, silencing your whines and cries while he releases hot ropes of cum inside of you, painting your warm gummy walls white as you spasm around him.

"I wonder how would you look with a bump..pregnant with my child. You love that do you? Being all stuffed and full with my seeds..I bet you want to be knocked up, don't you?"

Tears were running down your cheeks, nodding frantically and desperately begging for him to fill you up with his cum. He immediately obliges, stuffing his cock inside of you once again, cum leaking out of your cunt as he thrusts into you mercilessly.

The thought of you being knocked up, pregnant with his child, made him harder. He loves when your gummy walls clench and spasm around him, he would occasionally rub your clit, making you squirt on his abdomen right on the spot. You don't even damn know how long you guys have been at this, but you don't care.

Scaramouche turned you over to your stomach, putting you on all fours. He soon grabbed your hips, pumping his cock right into you once again, giving hard and deep thrust that makes you quiver and tremble under him. Damn right you were gonna cum right on the spot again.

Who knows how long you guys been at this. You came so many times that you've lost count, you were reduced into a dumb cockdrunk bitch for Scara to stuff his cum in, and you didn't mind. He would always give the best after cares after anyway <33

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stanfordsweater · 3 months

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hello i'm new to the supernatural fandom and you have been in my recommendeds for a while, reasons to ship wincest???

i thought for a long time about how to respond to this so imma link catherine tosenberger's excellent analysis of the first few seasons where "the most resistive aspect of Wincest fan fiction is that it gives the main characters a lasting happiness that the series eternally defers."

to begin with, there are a lot of people who will argue for the toxic codependency and i love them and also love it but the reason i've been here for well over a decade is because of the way that wincest offers you two paths: you can follow the path of those who write endless meta about how one or the other brother is abusive and how toxic it is and eventually brainwash yourself into being unable to ship it, or you can follow the path of love and light and perspective and recognize 1. these are fictional characters and b. there are no two characters in genre tv who are as devoted to each other as sam and dean. there is no plotline that follows through fifteen seasons of being obsessed with each other.

by choosing the incest pill, you grant yourself access to fifteen seasons of generally good tv ABOUT YOUR SHIP EXCLUSIVELY. sam and dean are the main characters and you will always know, opening up an episode, that they will be there, doing their weird-ass jealous obsessiveness, and you will never despair about not having them present, together, even if they're fighting or struggling or depressed. that is a very special thing!

now, beyond that, assuming you've watched the show, there's many reasons to cross the incest line. FIRSTLY, everyone involved was well aware of what they were doing. we have a few choice quotes i've collected below about their relationship that ramps up the intensity:

"Ultimately, they are pathologically dishonest with each other because John Winchester was pathologically elusive to them," consulting producer Ben Edlund says. "They learned that the truth is this dangerous thing, and that you shouldn't speak it. He even taught them to keep secrets from each other for strategic purposes." With all of the supernatural, apocalyptic, tragic drama woven into the show, Sam and Dean's relationship is rooted in human emotion. "When you look at the dysfunction that they show to each other, it comes directly from how they were brought up, and that's a kind of dysfunction that people in this world continue to face. 'Why didn't my dad tell me that he loved me yesterday?' We're just people sharing the same kind of thing," Edlund says.

"Why do you think Dean has had such a hard time forgiving Cas when he did forgive Sam for a similar betrayal?"

I think the easy answer is blood, I think the easy answer is family, even though if there was a family in this show it would include Bobby, it would include Cas, it would include these-- these-- kind of, broken war-torn heroes we've come to know, and you know, Bobby has that famous line, "family don't end with blood," but it is his brother, at the end of the day, that's the closest he has to a companion, and has had for a companion for many years, so I think with Cas there was always, "he's unnatural, he's an angel," and I think that for Dean, relating to someone like that, it's tricky, relating to monsters, relating to anything supernatural, his brother is flesh and blood, it's tangible, he can touch that.

Obviously the relationship between Sam and Dean is central to our show but we’ve been building this rift between Sam and Dean all season, so that led to the idea of having this young male character that sort of idolizes Dean and does all the cool stuff that Sam won’t do, and that’s Dean’s perfect mate.

(the thing sam won't do is literally swapping spit with him. tell me i'm lying)

in the hunt, page 37

Not all fans are content simply to attend conventions. Some of them want to take a hand in the story, and their fan fiction can explore areas mostly untouched on the show, like the latent homoerotic suggestiveness of the Winchesters’ intense relationship.

-THE NEW YORK TIMES

"eyefuck" became a well-known script shorthand because of how intense j2 looked at each other as sam and dean

it's a terrible life draft script:

Note B) They are supposed to be together

Note C) each been all alone in separate life finally found kindred spirit

in the hunt, page 158

i haven't included any eric kripke quotes because he has so much wrong with him that i don't want to enable it. this is a compliment. it is one of the highest i can give.

SO-- what these quotes tell us:

sam and dean are relatable because their relationship is intensely human

sam and dean have shared secrets they cannot voice to one another but that nonetheless make them inseparable

people have been writing motherfucking essays about sam and dean's homoeroticism since the show aired

within the mythology of the show, sam and dean are meant to be together above all other relationships

...oh, you need more? i didn't think i'd get this far. um... okay... look at them???

if you choose to walk this path you will find yourself crying and taking screenshots every time they look at each other or touch each other or hold each other and you will thank the lord in heaven that we were granted this intensely wild and beautiful homoerotic relationship back in 2005 and praise jesus that you can always return to their raw sexual chemistry-- "In fact, much like the early X-Files, the show is fueled past its failings almost entirely by the chemistry between the two principals, the boys who, like Mulder and Scully, generate enough sexual tension to power a small city" as quoted by whitney cox in 2006 in an article that otherwise fails to bring anything to the table, sorry if you love it for your meta but also literally just go read the catherine tosenberger essay

you still need more????? jesus, what have you shipped prior to this? well, go watch the pilot and enjoy the fact that the first scene these two have together they are wrestling on the floor (sexually) and getting all romantically silhouetted against this beautiful lighting

and then go watch a few fanvids like this or this and then watch the pilot and watch this and then read this post about how supernatural happily wields incest as a tool of horror and as comedy and then scroll through my entire family horror show tag to understand more and then watch this immaculate video that deals with the whole thing and think about how all these things were happening in 2005 and remember the fact that sam and dean are the main characters of the universe... and then maybe just watch the show and please do not become an annoying shit poster who just talks about how they hate it🙏

#if you become a poster who just talks about how bad the show is or how abusive one of them is to the other i will hunt you down and put bees #in your house #wincest

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justroaminground · 1 year

Text

a little distraction (Sam Winchester x Reader)

summary: sam got his soul back and the three of you are working a case. sam is still all over the place and you decided he needed a little distraction.

warnings: NSFW, smut, 18+, fluff/smut, oral, sex

Enjoy! If there are any requests feel free to leave them. Sorry for mistakes i am sure you get the point. ;) xx

+++++++++++++++

dean, sam an you were working a case, which sam has already been working on with samuel. unfortunately since he just got his soul back, his memories were still gone, but he seemed to have flashbacks the further you guys worked into the case.

you sat at the table in the motelroom, hacking surveillance cameras to check some traces you had. dean sat across from you and sam was switching through police files. from time to time you were able to see from the corner of you eye, he was struggling. sam rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"fuck it we are done here!" dean shot up and went over to sam, to get the files out of his hand.

"dean what the hell?!" sam looked at dean confused.

"you are scratching the damn wall sam! over and over again! you know exactly you aren't supposed to do so!" dean was frustrated and tried to knock some responsibility into sam's stubborn head.

"dean look, i am fine! yeah sure memories come back but only in relation to this case! i don't remember anything from hell. please.." he looked at dean with his face full of pain and regret. "i just wanna end it the right way here. i closed this case in a horrible way."

until now you just watched the two of them having this heated argument but you're done watching. you cleared your throat and got up.

"honestly i think dean ist right sam." you added in a calm way. both of their heads shot into your direction and you smiled softly. "i am not a huge fan of fighting. dean and i are very concerned for your wellbeing sam. be the responsible one you are and listen to dean. at least stay here and let us finish the case."

sam lowered his gaze to the floor and slightly nodded. his hands rubbing against eachother and he took a moment until he answered.

"alright." he spoke up looking back up at the two of you. "but i want to stay. you two finish the case and i will stay here doing all the research."

"thank's god!" dean said and exhaled loudly. he put his hands on his sides and took his glass from the table, filling it up with whisky.

you smiled at sam and padded his shoulder. before sitting down you went to dean and replaced his whisky glass with a bottle of water.

"talking about being responsible." you gave him a warning look. "you better stop drown you frustration in alcohol." you sat back down at the table.

sam looked at dean amused and mouthed "fuck you!" to him. dean mouthed a "shut up!" back.

your look went from one brother to the other and you laughed. "seriously?!" shaking you head you went back to the laptop with your concentration.

after a few hours, you had a rough plan for tomorrow and the three of you went to bed. you got up early with dean and the two of you headed out to get this case finally finished.

the day seemed like it would never end, hopping from one questioning to the next. looking at traces over traces. talking to frustrated and clueless people sometimes weighed hard on you. not just you, but dean was way better at hiding it.

"i feel like we should get lunch and take a bit of a break?" you suggested to dean and handed him a bottle of water. "you haven't been drinking all day long"

"yeah you're probably right." he rubbed his eyes with one hand. the other one still resting on the steering wheel. "thank's love" he took the water bottle from you and took a sip.

dean parked at the next restaurant and you got out. you noticed he wasn't getting out and you looked back into the car.

"are you coming?" you questioned.

"i think i'm gonna call sam real quick. you can already go ahead and place the order" he answered and took his phone out of his pocket.

"fine, se ya" you added and made your way into the restaurant.

you took a seat and looked through the menu. the waiter took you out of your mind and you looked up at him smiling sweetly.

"hello beautiful, what can i get you?"

"i'd love to have the chicken wrap and a coke and for my friend, which will join, a bacon cheeseburger and a beer please." you told him and nodded.

"thank you very much for your order. food will be here asap" he smiled at you and left.

dean made his way to your table and sat down. his face was pissed and you tried to catch his gaze.

"hey grumpy bear what's going on? didn't he answer?"

"he did."

"and?!"

"i just got a call from ben. he said lisa was in trouble."

you had to process for a minute what he just said and you nodded. "ugh..then why are you still sitting here?!"

"i can't just leave right now. sam is still smoshy in his head and you'd have to work alone on this case which is complicated enough." dean gave back and frustration was written all over his face.

you raised an eyebrow and leaned back in the chair, inhaled deeply and placed your hands on the table. "yes i am a woman and sam is still weak, but that doesn't mean you have to manage everything. ben needs you now and i want you to get your ass up after we ate and leave. do you understand me?" you questioned him in a serious but quiet ton so no one would hear you, giving him the talk.

"i never-"

"dean. my question is a simple yes or no question. i do not want any rants." you smiled at him sweetly and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"fuck you y/n. but i love you." he mumbled and nodded. "but if it's getting risky i want you to call me!"

you nodded and with that the food arrived. both of you finished your meals and after paying you made your way out the restaurant.

"i'll take you back to the motel" dean said while walking to the car.

"oh no! we have to finish some questionings?" you said.

"but not alone!" dean insisted.

"i am not alone" you smirked while getting with him to the car to simply get your gun. carefully putting it into the waistband. "the heaven always provides us with the lovely angels. "you winked at him and dean rolled his eyes.

"well that makes me even more insecure about leaving you alone"

"oh shut up and drive dean!" you rant back and made your way out of the parking lot.

you gathered your thoughts and worked off point after point on your to do list. being on your own made you slower since you had to be extra careful, but you got there. after talking to the last victim you finally decided to go back to the motel. it was a one hour walk back and you reached the motel pretty tired. you loosened up your ponytail and let your hair fall down over your shoulders. trying to get in the room you noticed you forgot your keys. before you could knock the door swung open and sam stood there.

"y/n?! are you okey?! where is dean?!" he pulled you into the room and was completely all over the place.

"sam calm down.." you laughed slightly and closed the door. kicking your shoes aside and undressing your blazer. "dean had a emergency and went to lisa and ben. i finished the to do's we had for today alone." you explained to him and handed him some more files and notes. "we can look through them tomorrow"

"hold on you went on your own?!" sam looked at you in disbelief. "are you out of your mind? anything could have happened! why didn't dean tell me to join you?! don't the two of you believe in me anymore?!

"sam please" you looked at him tired and shook your head. "just take it as it is. it has nothing to do with you. you're all over the place right now. let's just end the day and start fresh tomorrow alright?" you didn't wait for his answer and vanished in the bathroom.

you took a shower feeling your muscles relax after the warm water rushed along your body. you smiled to yourself and felt instantly better. it took you about and hour, finishing in the bathroom and went back into the room. wearing your black leggings and a bralette.

"would you mind if i borrowed your hoddie sam?" you questioned while separating your clothes from what you're still able to wear and what has gotten dirty.

"uh-y-yeah just g-go ahead!" he stuttered and you turned confused to him.

"are you okey?" you looked at him worried and went over to his bag, taking it out of his bag and pulling it over your head. letting it hug your body.

"yeah. course why wouldn't i?!" sam shot back and turned a bit so his back was facing you.

his behavior seemed very out of place and you walked over to him. rested your hands on his shoulder and looked at the laptop.

"don't you think we had enough for today sam?" you said while looking at his profile. watching his lips press together and fingers stop from typing. he bit the inside of his cheek and nodded slightly.

"are you nervous?" unsure you let go of his shoulders and sat right onto the table next to him.

"no!" he blurred out and closed the laptop real quick getting up and walked a few steps back from you.

confused you just looked at him. as wrong as it felt you kind of enjoyed him being so jumpy.

"am i distracting you..sammy?" you asked sweetly, your legs swingging slightly and you smiled.

his eyes looked anywhere but to you. "uhm i think i just need a break" his hands rested at his hip and he nodded quickly.

"maybe you need something else." you looked at him and slipped of the table, tiptoeing towards him.

he followed every movement you made and walked slowly back.

"sorry i can't follow you y/n" he mumbled nervously.

you continued to walk over to him and played with the way to long sleeves. he bumped into the wall behind him and and he was literally nervousness in person.

you stopped right in front of him and looked up at him. taking his belt buckle into your hand and pulled him closer. he melted like butter and you bit your lower lip.

for months he made you feel this way. without his soul, sam constantly crossed your boundaries. there was always this tension between you an sam. the two of you even happened to have sex once but it was right before he said yes to lucifer and from there on everything went downhill, you distanced yourself as best as possible from him and spent your time hunting with bobby.

now that he's the warmhearted sam you knew from before, even more cautious and innocent than before it made you feel some type of way.

quicker than you were able to comprehend what he just did, you were the one standing on the wall. the two of you got very close and you felt his breath hitting your face.

"what do you think you're doing?" he whispered, looking deeply into your eyes.

"testing your memory?" insecure your voice cracked and you laid your hands onto his sides.

"i know what happened before i said yes and i also remembered what happened after.. between us. i was a complete asshole. that's why i keep my distance. " he gently pushed your hands from his body and turned away from you sitting onto the bed.

"sam don't.." you quickly walked over to him.

"y/n please don't. i don't trust myself right now. we should really keep a distance for now.." he explained not even looking at you.

"sam no please, don't do that to me!" you pleaded while getting closer and kneeling down in front of him so he had to look you in the eyes. "it felt so pure..and real, don't you remember that?!"

his face expressed a painful look and he still managed to not look at you. you took his hands into yours and rested them on your sides. you took his face in your hands and tears were forming in your yes.

"don't end things like that." you whispered and felt his grip getting tighter on your sides. he tried to push you away but you grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled yourself back to him. his body pressed against his, kneeling between his legs. he was fighting so hard against his desires, but couldn't hold them in any longer.

he rested one hand on your cheek and the next thing you knew was his lips crashing against yours. you kissed him needy back and wrapped your arms around his neck. he pulled you up onto his lap and you pulled away only to undress the hoddie.

"i missed you so much" you whimpered into the kiss, your hips working against his and you felt his hard member growing.

you felt that he was still holding back, being very hesitant. you pulled away and got up from his leg. getting on your knees, unbuckling his jeans while looking up to him.

"y/n i-i don't know if we should.." he stuttered while following your hands with his eyes.

"relax sam.." you spoke softly and stroke his member through his boxers.

"i-i don't wanna hurt you. if i am getting to rough you need to stop me." he suppressed a moan and his breath getting heavy.

gently you pulled his boxer down, exposing his fully hard cock and you looked up at him. "think you can try but maybe i want it to hurt.." you whispered cheekily and started to kiss his length.

you saw his jaw clenching and he grapped into the sheets hard. you teased him by flicking your tongue around his tip, hurtfully slow taking him into your mouth.

a raspy moan escaped his lips and it send shivers down your spine. your legs got weak and your body got very hot, feeling the tingling under your skin.

you opened your mouth just a bit more and started to bump your head. you supported blowing him off with your hand since you couldn't fit him in completely and looked up at him.

his lips were slightly parted, heavy breaths left his mouth and his eyes were closed. he let himself go and buried his hand in your hair.

"you're doing so good. making me feel very good love" he praised you and opened his eyes. following every movement you made.

you took him out of your mouth and kept moving your hand. before you could say anything he made you undress your leggings.

he stopped you from getting back onto your knees and pulled you back onto his lap. he kissed you needy and undressed the last piece of clothing you had on. your bralette. you moved your body against his and his hard cock stroke you pussy.

a moan escaped your lips and you pushed him back by the chest onto the mattress. you sat gently onto his cock, moving your hips and therefore your pussy along his length and you bit your lower lip.

"i can't wait any longer sam.." you breathed out impatiently and managed to grab his cock. you brought him shaky to your entrance.

"w- i- y/n" sam stumbled on his own words and sat up. he lifted you gently onto his cock, letting you slide down at your own speed.

you laid your head onto his shoulder and moaned surprised against his skin.

"g-god sam!" you needed a minute to adjust to him and started to move your hips at first slowly. he placed soft kisses along your shoulder and stroke your back with his hands.

then he made you look at him and kissed you softly. holding you against his body and supported you moving on top of him. he moaned against your lips and you held onto him as if he could vanish any minute. you missed the intimacy between the two of you so much you wished this moment wouldn't end.

you picked up the speed and it got harder to kiss him gently. your bodies got sweatier and rubbed against eachother. the kisses got filthier and the two of you fell back onto the mattress.

"i've waited for this so bad.." you moaned out as you felt his arms wrap around your torso, pressing you down against his body and fucking into you harder.

you cried out and literally melted into a puddle of ecstasy, laying there while he made you feel things, you never thought existed.

"fuck y/n i needed that so much" sam moaned against your neck and left a hickey.

"p-please i'm-" you couldn't finish your sentence as this thrust hit you g-spot and you body clenched up. sam didn't stop but fucked you through your orgasm as he then finished into you.

completely unable to say anything meaningful right now your body just laid there on top of him, not being able to move. he loosened his grip right away and pulled you softly off his cock, laying you carefully down next to him. he moved to your side and eyed you up and down. one hand rested on your tummy and his eyes looked at you worried.

exhausted you placed your hand on his cheek and stroke it softly. "don't look at me like that." you kissed his lips.

"did i hurt you?" he whispered against your lips and pulled you even closer.

"stop worrying." you told him and shook your head. "you're not a monster sam. your still you and you will get used to it." you calmed him down and gave him one last kiss before getting up.

"yeah you're right." he nodded, rubbing his hands over his face and took a minute to collect his thoughts.

"shower?" you asked with a sweet smile and took his hand into yours. without hesitation, the two of you vanished in the bathroom, getting clean after sweating your soul out. ;)

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girls-alias · 9 months

Text

Caught - Demon Dean Winchester

Title: Caught - Demon Dean Winchester Words: 5,109 Relations: Demon Dean Winchester X reader. TW: Smut, rough, Threatened SH, SPOILERS.

@angelofdarkness69 asked:

Demon Dean Smut 😈❤️‍🔥😈❤️‍🔥

I walked into the bunker, slightly out of breath as I rushed here. Sam had called me but I was away from my phone. He left a message where he sounded completely panicked, he said that I was needed at the bunker and that it was about Dean. I dropped everything I was doing to rush there.

I stumbled down the stairs, looking frantically into rooms as I rushed down the hallways.

"Sam?" I called out, looking around and wondering what was going on.

"Y/N," Dean's voice spoke behind me. I spun around instantly relieved. He's okay, he's alive. Why did Sam call me? I smiled brightly, backtracking to run to him. He was holding a hammer for some reason and watched me a little confused. He dropped the hammer happily accepting my hug. I smiled brightly, hugging him as tight as I could knowing the whole 3 hours drive it took me to get here I thought Dean was dead or was dying. Tears escaped my eyes the whole way here. I must look pathetic, I barely see them all year and now I show up crying and most likely completely overreacting.

"Oh, my God. Dean I thought you were dead," I commented, pulling away to smile at him. He seemed to study me a little longer than a normal person would. The thing is, I am crazy about Dean and can never tell if he likes me as more of an acquaintance. I raised an eyebrow waiting for him to say something. He smirked, my mood instantly lifting just from the sight. I have never seen anyone ever look at good as Dean. I've seen a lot of hot men in my life but none of them are anything compared to Dean.

"Why'd you think I was dead?" He asked, a smirk still present on his lips. I chuckled softly, a little awkwardly.

"Sam left me a message saying there was something wrong and it was about you," I explained and he nodded, taking in my words.

"And you drove straight here, crying the whole time?" He seemed to ask but his voice was flat. I chuckled dryly. Wiping under my eyes to hide some of the evidence of my emotional state from earlier.

"Well, yeah. I thought you were dead. I was mourning," I sassed but his smirk grew, eyes looking deeper into mine than they normally did. Maybe something is wrong with Dean. I grew suspicious.

"I wouldn't mourn you," He stated simply, I shook my head with a scoff. Smiling as I watched him study my expression.

"I don't doubt it, you're like a robot without feelings," I joked, he pulled a face as if he was proud of it. My eyebrows furrowed slightly, he didn't have a snarky remark to come back with, there had to be something wrong.

"I would agree but I have some emotions," He replied as if the answer was simple but I looked at him confused. He's being serious, what's he saying? He smirked watching me. "Like right now I feel like kissing you, seeing which room it leads to," He commented. My breath hitched in my throat. He wants to kiss me?! I parted my lips to say something but nothing came to mind. He smirked, stepping closer to me. I backed away, instincts telling me that something was wrong, my inside begging to see what would happen. He continued smirking, advancing till my back hit a wall. He grinned when I had nowhere to go.

He continued towards me, closing the distance till he was practically pressed against me. I gulped studying his eyes as I internally begged him to kiss me like I always did around him. He leaned down, hand on the back of my neck. He pulled me in the rest of the way till our lips crashed together. He kissed me roughly. I had imagined kissing Dean thousands of times but I never imagined it being like this. It was almost as if he needed to kiss me or he wouldn't live another day. I placed a hand on his chest while the other found the back of his hair. He smirked against my lips, his tongue sliding into my mouth with ease.

Butterflies flew through my veins, my whole body melting into the kiss. His hands held me roughly, the hand on the back of my neck keeping me close, a hand on my waist holding my body against his. I moaned softly as he held me tighter.

A whirling sound echoed through the halls before a small siren sounded. Dean didn't seem to care as he didn't react to the sound. I pulled away, looking down the hall as the lights dimmed and turned red. I looked back at Dean confused. He looked emotionless. My eyebrows furrowed as to why he seemed indifferent about the lights and loss of power. I opened my mouth, about the speak.

"Y/N!" Sam shouted, I looked down the hall as Dean did the same. Dean smirked at him. "Demon," He announced pointing at Dean. I quickly looked at Dean as he smirked and flashed his black-covered eyes at me. I punched him as hard as I could, his hands falling from my body as he held his cheek. I ran to Sam watching slightly as Dean looked pissed.

I ran with Sam through the halls, Dean wasn't running. Strolling casually. "You could have warned me," I argued quietly as he guided me through the halls.

"I didn't have time," Sam tried but I scoffed.

"It takes two seconds to say the word demon," I argued. He shushed me as we turned a corner and he stopped me. We listened closely as Dean walked around, a raised voice as he taunted Sam with how he escaped. I'm a little lost about what happened but there is a demon in Dean and that's my only concern right now.

"Dean is the demon, it's not a possession it's Dean," Sam whispered. I looked at him baffled.

"What the fuck? Why didn't you call me earlier?" I asked, fighting my wish to scream at him.

"I thought I had a handle on it," Sam shrugged not believing himself. I rolled my eyes with a sigh.

"Clearly," I whispered back, sassing him with sarcasm. I swear, these boys get dumber and dumber every time I see them. Sam looked at me uneasy as the power came on. I rolled my eyes as he rushed around the corner and closed the door to the electrical room where Dean was.

"Really, that's your big move?" Dean's voice was slightly muffled by the door but he showed no emotions in his tone. Why did he kiss me? I understand that he was probably messing with me but he had the perfect opportunity to kill me and he didn't. It's just weird.

"Listen to me. We were getting close, Okay?" Sam explained through the door. I rolled my eyes knowing he was a hopeless fool thinking he could talk this out with him. He doesn't have a soft spot he can get through to... Or maybe? No that's stupid. But.... No. Okay, maybe. "I know you're still in there somewhere. Just let me finish the treatments," I thought quickly as Sam waited for a response as if we didn't all know the answer was going to be violence. "Dean?" Sam jumped back as a heavy thud hit the door. I rolled my eyes.

"You act like I want to be cured," Dean grunted as he broke the door down from the inside. I took a deep breath, knowing I was either going to die here or live long enough to do something incredibly stupid and then die in this bunker. "Personally, I like the disease," Dean smirked evilly through the hole in the door he had created. My heart races. Mentally preparing for my own stupidity.

"Dean, stop that. Look I don't want to use this blade on you," Sam shouted, trying to gain some control of the situation.

"Oh, that sucks for you, doesn't it?" He asked sarcastically. "Cause you really mean that," He chuckled before slamming a hammer into the door again.

"If you come out of that room I won't have a choice," Sam tried, trying to sound strong.

"Sure you will! and I know which one you'll make," Dean taunted, knowing Sam didn't have the strength to kill his own brother. "Isn't that right Sammy?" I had gone ignored this whole time. I grabbed my gun from the holster strapped to my hip. Dean's eyes found mine through the hole in the door. He chuckled dryly. "Oh, you're going to kill me?" He asked sarcastically. I gulped. "You're in love with me, you wouldn't hurt me. I was surprised you even punched me and now you're going to shoot me?" He asked annoyance in his tone along with a taunting smirk.

"You're right," I spoke softly, my heart racing. He smirked stepping back ready to take another swing. I watched as his eyebrows furrowed before his eyes widened. He watched intently as I raised the gun, barrel pressing to my right temple. He looked at me slightly angry.

"Put it down," He instructed through gritted teeth. Keeping his voice down so he didn't scare me. A tear escaped my eye unconsciously. "I said, put it down," His voice showed his venom.

"Y/N, what you doing?" Sam asked looking at me like I was crazy.

"You said you only felt one thing, I was that one thing. You break that door down, you don't finish the treatment or if you even glare at Sam I'll pull this trigger faster than you can apologise," I explained simply. Emotions leaving my tone. Dean seemed to recognise that I wasn't bluffing. He lifted his hands, slowly dropping the hammer. I gulped. My life rests in Dean's hands.

"Just put the gun down," He spoke softly, his eyes looking pleading.

"I'm not putting it down until you're tied up and cooperating," I explained. He nodded, his eyes lowering and I could see he admitted defeat. I can't believe this is working. I didn't realise Dean cared for me this much but I'm glad he does. "Sam," I instructed without words.

Sam opened the door for Dean, stepping back in case he tried anything. He seemed to study me before scoffing, I worried he had tricked me.

"The safety-" He started. I aimed the gun up taking one shot before putting the gun back to my head. Sam and Dean flinched at the sudden shot.

"I'm not bluffing," I explained coldly. He studied me, heart rate increasing before he put his hands up and led the way to the cellar. He kept his eyes low as he took a seat in the metal chair but studied me as Sam tied him up. Once Sam confirmed it was clear I lowered the gun. Putting the safety on and unloading it. Dean seemed to take a deep breath of relief.

It was a while before Dean was conscious again, I gave him some of my blood since we have the same type, something we figured out years ago when he was electrocuted and in hospital. He joked he was going to keep me around in case he needed blood. I smiled softly at the memory. Cas had joined us, explaining he was already on his way to save us but was shocked we had it under control.

"How'd you do it?" He asked, looking between Sam and me. Sam and I had already explained the lead-up to what I did. Sam wondered how after so much human blood he could still want to be a demon. Cas explained it was easier to feel nothing than the pain of being human. I thought it was poetic.

"Y/N appealed to his human heart," Sam explained cryptically. I rolled my eyes.

"I threatened to shoot myself," I explained with a shrug. I couldn't take my eyes off Dean. Watching as his head was limp unconscious.

"Even as a demon he's in love with you," Cas commented, seemingly in a world of his own. My neck almost snapped as I quickly looked at him.

"What?" I asked, the word falling from my mouth.

"Dean's in love with you, even as a demon. Did you not know?" He asked as if it was a complete shock to him, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched me slightly.

"No, what makes you think he's in love with me?" I asked, a scoff wanting to come out but it wouldn't like it was too scared.

"Because I say it all the time," I looked over at Dean as he lifted his head. His eyes were black but soon dissolved back to the beautiful green. I watched amazed. Gulping slightly at his words. Sam splashed some holy water on his face. Definitely human. I smiled softly.

"Welcome back, Dean," Sam smirked, proud to have his brother back.

I stayed off to the side as Sam untied Dean. Cas waited in the library while we got Dean situated. He kept looking at me, a guilty expression on his face but every time I smiled softly. Dean hinted that he wanted food and so Sam took it as his hint to leave Dean and me alone.

"Y/N," He started as soon as the door closed behind Sam. His voice was full of sorrow. I shushed him as I closed the distance between us He was sitting on his bed, he watched me closely as I smiled at him. I let my body work without my brain being involved. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He looked completely shocked, his hands to his sides like he was scared to touch me.

"Shut up," I smirked, leaning in as I pulled him in by the back of his neck. I connected our lips, he seemed dazed for a second before his lips moved against mine, his hands hugging my waist as he kissed me back. His tongue entered my mouth with ease again. He smiled against my lips as our tongues danced.

I wrapped an arm over his shoulder, keeping him close as his hands explored me. They ventured down to my ass, squeezing harshly, a moan escaping my mouth and entering Dean's. He grunted, enjoying the sound. It reminded me of the grunts he had done when breaking down the door. I thought of how he kissed me even when he was a demon, the roughness, the need magnified and I could tell he was holding back now. I pulled back, quickly moving my lips to his neck.

He moaned, his head falling back as I sucked open-mouthed kisses onto his neck. "Y/N," He moaned breathlessly. I smirked as I continued kissing his neck. "I want you to move in," He explained. I paused, shocked slightly at the progression. Just 30 minutes ago I found out he loves me, not he's asking me to move in while we're finally enjoying each other. He pulled back to study me. Pleading eyes. "I'm sorry to spring it on you, I just. I've thought about it a lot and after today I can't trust myself to be alone with Sam and if I'm being honest I'm afraid of this," He explained gesturing between us. I looked at him sadly. I've thrown myself at him. I'm being ridiculous. He's just turned human again and I'm initiating sex. I'm sick.

"Sorry," I commented absentmindedly as I moved to get off his lap. His hands found my hips stopping me from getting up.

"No, I'm scared that I'll ruin it. Cas was right though, I am in love with you, I don't just want to have sex I want the real thing, the love, the relationship, all of it. Good and bad," He confessed, worry riddling his expression. I smiled softly.

"Dean, I want those too. You're not going to ruin it. I was willing to die for you less than an hour ago. You think I would do that for anyone else?" I asked rhetorically. He chuckled, noticing his mistake. He grinned widely.

"So, you'll go on a date with me?" He asked, the grin only growing wider.

"Of course, you goof," I chuckle, leaning in to reconnect our lips. He smiled against my lips his hands gripping me harder.

"Maybe we should stop," He commented, pulling away slightly. I looked at him expectantly wanting to know why. I'll get off of him if he wants me to but if he thinks that I want to then he's wrong. "I don't know if it's the leftover demon inside me, or if it's pent-up frustration or finally kissing you but I don't think I can contain myself," He confessed. His expression was thoughtful as he stared into my eyes. I smirked.

"Good," I answered simply, reconnecting our lips. He smirked, understanding my intentions. He snaked his arm around my waist, pulling my body closer to his. I smirked against his lips. He bit my bottom lip. Smirking as he pulled back. I glared at him with hungry eyes. His hands gripped my ass tighter, holding me against his body as he stood up. I squealed slightly surprised he was strong enough to lift me with no effort. Dean smirked against my lips. He turned around, lowering me onto the bed as he came down with me. Settling between my legs and hovering over me.

My tongue fighting his as I crave more of him, all of him. His hips seemed to fit against mine comfortably, perfectly. Like he was made to be there. His hands explored my body before finding the neck of my shirt and ripping it open. I squealed, my lips falling from his from the surprise. He wasn't joking about not being able to control him. I smirked excitedly, quickly reconnecting our lips. He ripped the rest of my shirt off my body. I'm glad I wasn't wearing a bra today, who knows if he was strong enough to rip that.

I moaned as his warm hands traced the lengths of my chest. His fingertips softly rubbed my body in a gentleness I didn't expect. It was like he was trying to map out my body with his hands, to memorise every pump and dip. I gripped his shirt, pulling it up before disconnecting our lips to lift it over his head. As the fabric passed his face he smirked, smiling happily as he moved back in to kiss me. My hands explored his back muscles as they contorted to my touch. He bit my bottom lip, pulling back a little before releasing it and starting. getting up. I smirked, watching him with hungry eyes. No matter how often I see Dean shirtless it will always weaken me.

He swiftly unbuttoned his jeans before stepping out of them. I gulped as I watched his dick press against his boxers, clearly hard and above average. He smirked as he watched my reaction clearly pleased. I blushed as he moved closer, grabbing the hem of my pants, I lifted my hips as he pulled them from my body. He trailed his hand up my leg, sending shivers down my spine as he reached closer to where I was wet for him. I gulped as he was close. He pushed his fingers between my sensitive skin and underwear. I smirked. He saw this as consent and slowly started pulling my underwear down. When I lifted my hips again he quickly pulled them off me, like if I didn't he would have stopped. I smiled at his adorableness. He stood up straight, putting his thumbs into boxers and slid them past his hips.

His dick sprang free. My first instinct was for my jaw to drop open but I bit my bottom lip to keep my mouth shut. I giggled as he smirked at me. He came back to me, hovering over me as he kissed me. I moaned as his tip poked my inner thigh. I reached between us, grasping his dick as he moaned against my lips. I smirked, the sound I didn't know I needed to hear but will forever be in my mind. I stroked the length of his cock as my pussy grew wetter. Even the thought of him makes me wet but this is making a waterfall.

His cock was so hard I wondered if it was hurting. I smirked against his lips as I removed my hand from between us and flipped us over so I was on top. I straddled him, his dick pointed up to the ceiling as I sat high on his thighs. He smirked, biting his bottom lip as he watched me. I smirked as I looked down at him. I leant down, kissing him as his hands moved down my sides and rested on my hips. I lifted my hips, moving my hand between us as he smirked against my lips. I licked his bottom lip, his tongue soon meeting mine. I grasped his hard cock, holding it steady as I lowered myself onto it.

I gasped against his lips as he smirked. He moved a hand to the back of my neck, pulling my lips back onto his. I lowered myself further on his cock. Moaning as he filled me and reached deeper than I thought was possible. I wanted to scream in pleasure as it throbbed inside me, I bit his bottom lip. I pulled away with hungry eyes. He looked at me deeply, admiring me as my eyebrows contorted with pleasure. His smirk grew as I adjusted to his size, a short pause before I began rocking my hips. He breathed through gritted teeth as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I moaned at the sight.

I rocked my hips against his, my head falling back as the pleasure consumed me. Dean's hands found my hips, pushing and pulling me softly as he pushed his hips into me. I moaned as his tip pushed against my G-spot. Dean's groan made me feral. I wanted nothing more than to hear it again. I sat up fully, His dick reaching deeper inside me, a soft scream escaping my lips before I hurried to cover my mouth. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I quickened the pace. Dean's hands still guided my hips as he moaned, watching me and where our bodies met, his dick buried deep inside me. I placed a hand on his firm chest, using it to anchor myself.

God, he's amazing! The familiar feeling of an orgasm edged closer. I moaned as he pushed deep inside me, his tip kissing my G-spot again. "Fuck, Dean," I moaned, looking at him with hooded and needy eyes. He smirked, biting his bottom lip as he continued. "Fuck, if you keep going I'm going to cum," I managed through my laboured breaths.

"Cum for me, Y/N," His voice was pornographic. It was enough to make me do anything he wanted. I would act like a dog for this man if he asked me to. My thoughts clouded as my orgasm grew an inch closer. He seemed to recognise this as he lifted his hips, and my G-spot hit with a force I knew would make it hard for me to walk properly later. A scream escaped my lips as my orgasm peaked. Dean moved his hand to my mouth, quietening me as he continued pushing into me and rolling my hips with his hands. My legs clenched his side as my orgasm overtook my body. He groaned as my walls clenched around him, his laboured breathing becoming more jagged as he gripped my hips a little tighter, bruise causing tightness.

My orgasm subsided as he helped me ride it out. I practically turned to jelly in his hands. He smirked, moving his hand from my mouth and easing my upper body towards him. I smiled kissing him as his hands found my hips and lifted them slightly, my eyebrows furrowed with confusion before he bucked his hips up to meet mine. I moaned into his mouth, his tongue entering mine with the opportunity. His tongue silenced me as I tried not to scream. He thrust into my G-spot, pounding it relentlessly. He moved a hand to my cheek, pulling away a little to rest my forehead on his. His heavy breathing mixed with mine as a light coat of sweat formed on our bodies. I gasped, whimpering as I tried not to scream.

"Fuck," I moaned louder than intended but it seemed to cheer Dean on as his thrust became more precise. I moaned, my eyes rolling back, his tip hitting my G-spot with every thrust. The knot in my stomach came back quickly. "Fuck, Dean. I'm getting close again," He grunted at my words. His speed picking up slightly. He leaned up to kiss me, his tongue entering my mouth as he now knew I was the screaming type. His tongue silenced me as my orgasm peaked once again. His hand on my hip holding me securely my body shook from the power of the orgasm. I have never felt something so powerful. He fucked me through my second orgasm, slowing as he recognised I was coming down.

I pulled back, breathing heavily he lowered me back down onto him. I whimpered as I took all of him in again. He smirked kissing me sloppily as I wondered how he was doing this to me with ease. "Get on your hands and knees," He instructed. His tone was dark and his eyes piercing. I gulped, nodding excitedly as I kissed him quickly before getting off of him. I felt empty as I climbed off him. He rolled from under me so I could get in position on the bed. My knees were barely on the bed, my hands holding up my upper body as he stood at the edge of the bed. His hands found my hips. I moaned as he slapped my ass harshly. I bit my bottom lip.

He held my hips in place as he lined up his tip to my entrance, pulling me in slightly as he pushed into me. I moaned, eyes rolling to the back of my head as my head lost all weight. I whimpered, biting harshly on my bottom lip. His hand moved up my back before settling between my shoulder blades and softly pushing me down. I rolled my hips forward as I lay my chest against the bed and arched my back.

"Fuck," Dean moaned, his hand moving trailed up my back and found my hips again. He held my hips steady as he started to slowly fuck me. His pace practically quivered as he resisted going faster. I moaned, the pace making me weak. His grip on my hips was as strong as steel, keeping me in place. He moaned, breathing in through gritted teeth as he picked up the pace. My head fell limp as I moaned, his hips now pulling me in to meet him in the middle, his dick hitting my G-spot and massaging my walls. I gripped onto the bed sheet, biting down on my arm to silence myself. Whimpers escape my lips. "I want to hear you, baby," He commented, his breath laboured. His hand found my hair, pulling slightly so my head was up, neck extended and making it impossible to silence myself. My moans fall freely and loudly. "Fuck, just like that," He commented.

"Fuck, Dean!" I practically screamed as he pushed down on my hips to reach a new angle. The knot in my stomach contorting and tightening.

"Fuck, I'm getting close," He moaned. My body grew weak at his words and voice. My orgasm teased me with being seconds away.

"Me too, Dean. Fuck," I moaned. His hard dick throbbing inside me, hitting my G-spot.

"Mmm," He hummed before his nails dug into my skin. I moaned, my orgasm beginning to tip over. "I'm gonna cum," He practically shouted through his moan. My walls clenched around him as my orgasm peaked, his thrust still rough and deep but sloppy. A scream escaped my extended neck as his cum shot forcefully deep inside me. He grunted. Pushing deep inside me with each spurt of cum he shot into me. My orgasm seemed to last longer, his cum making it peak each time.

He breathed heavily, his hands staying on me as he stood still. My legs grew shaky as my body went limp. My breathing was erratic as he slowly pulled out of me. I practically collapsed on the bed as Dean chuckled lying beside me. I chuckled, admiring him as he grinned at me. He lifted his arm, waiting for me. I crawled up a little, snuggling into his side as he wrapped his arm around me. He smiled up at the ceiling as I blushed. If I had known the sex would be this good I would have made a move the day I met him. He looked down at me, moving some hair from my face as it stuck to some sweat on my face. Dean looked heavenly, the sweat looking like it was painted on his body perfectly as if an artist had the smallest brush in the world, working for hours to make it. He pulled me in with the arm around me, kissing the top of my head as I smiled.

"How about," He started, looking down at me with a smile. I smiled, turning slightly to put my hand on his chest and placing my chin on the top of my hand, admiring him as he talked. He chuckled slightly, his smile never fading. "We'll take a shower, get you cleaned up. Maybe some shower sex if your legs aren't too weak." I blushed at the thought. "We'll go get you things for you to move in and go on a date?" He asked, tucking some hair behind my ear as I smiled. I bit my lip nodding enthusiastically. His smile beamed as he admired me. He leaned down, and I met him in the middle connecting our lips. The kiss was sweet, sincere as if with a loving couple. I smiled as I pulled away.

"Dean," He looked at me expectantly. I blushed as I smiled. "I love you too," I added. His smile spread across his face as he leaned back in to kiss me. I giggled against his lips as he smiled. This is perfect.

Masterlist

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An extremely long chapter but I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know in the comments if you read it all so I know if you guys like long chapters or want me to make it shorter in future. Thank you! 💜💜

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #smut writing #spn fanfic #spn #dean smut

289 notes · View notes

pagannatural · 2 months

Text

2.17 Heart

- this episode can’t really be called underrated but it makes me insane in a special and specific way that needs airing

-Dean is cleaning their guns and geeking out about how cool werewolves are, how they haven’t seen one since they were kids, and how good it is to know how to handle the situation, and Sam is teasing him. This callback to their shared childhood is important.

-Dean asks Sam their next step the way a teacher asks their student because Sam is still learning hunting from Dean. Sam answers correctly, looking like he’s trying not to smile and looks down and then up at Dean. He looks like he’s flirting. He loves seeing Dean happy.

- Madison tells the brothers that the victim was the kind of guy to hit on everyone in a five mile radius after a few scotches, you know the type, and Sam at first smiles knowingly. But then he looks over at Dean, who’s smiling his fuck-me smile at Madison, and his face falls. “Yeah, I do, actually,” he says.

Dean’s interest in Madison (and other women in general) really bothers him in this moment.

- Dean tells Madison someone needs to stay with her in case the werewolf shows up. The moment she leaves the room Sam tells Dean “you go, I’ll stay” with this expression that seems very serious, not like he’s just wanting to be the one who spends time with the pretty woman.

They decide to settle this the old fashioned way which is rock-paper-scissors (ro-sham-bo). Another callback to their childhood. Sam wins because Dean always chooses scissors which is honestly fascinating to me— I would have guessed Dean would pick rock because it’s the solid strong masculine option and because Sam would choose paper, but of course Dean chooses the tool, the blades. Sam grasps Dean’s arm after and his hand lingers. Again, he does not seem to have done this out of any interest in Madison, it seems like he just doesn’t want to witness Dean with her.

-This is not the face of a man who likes this woman

It reminds me of how he acted around Sarah In Provenance. He has to perform liking her for Dean, but he never shows any signs of genuine interest. Madison even dumps a basket of delicates onto the table in front of him to fold and he scrunches up his face and moves to the couch.

- Sam observes that Madison is smart and independent and asks her why she was with a stalker, and she answers that it’s not like he introduced himself like Hi I’m possessive and controlling and I like to punch people. She also says he’s wanted by the police, and that she was too insecure to leave until she realized she could take control of her life.

Madison and Sam are set up as direct parallels. She ends up being a monster without even knowing and without intending any harm, which is what Sam fears. Also, the way she’s describing her ex-boyfriend sounds a lot like Dean: possessive, controlling, likes punching people, wanted by the police. I think Dean has a lot of very redeemable qualities and for the most part he treats Sam very kindly, but he is all those things. It’s also how Sam would describe John, who he got away from by taking control of his life. The difference is that Sam actually wants to be with Dean.

- Dean kills the first werewolf in this episode. The werewolf is dying in the street and Dean stands over him and watches him turn back into a scared and confused man right before he dies. Dean obviously doesn’t enjoy seeing a man lose his life, and it complicates his earlier excitement over hunting a werewolf. The grown-up version of this hunt isn’t fun any more.

- Dean can see how Sam cares about Madison because he relates to her, and the way he watches Sam is so tender and protective. When Madison hugs Sam, Dean watches them with such bittersweet understanding

and then excuses himself very obviously so that Sam and Madison can fuck. Which they do. Which is just wild.

Because Sam decides to have sex with the first woman since Jessica because 1) Dean tells him to and 2) he sees this woman as the version of himself that gets to live without becoming a monster

- when Sam knocks frantically on his door, Dean opens up, knowing right away something is wrong and reassuring Sam that they’ll find her. The way that Sam runs straight to Dean’s door when he’s scared and needs help and Dean is right there without another thought is very romantic tropey.

-Sam yells at Dean because Dean’s willing to kill Madison without question but unwilling to kill Sam no matter what he does including murder. Dean looks a little jostled to be confronted by this, but I think to him it’s just so clear that Sam is a special and specific category from the rest of humanity and creation that he doesn’t see or doesn’t care about the hypocrisy. Sam is the center of his universe and his entire system of values. Everyone on earth or in hell is either Sam or Not Sam. It’s funny because Sam is like this about Dean too, but he just accepts it.

-Dean explains the situation to Madison calmly and honestly. It’s the decent thing to do, and also the difficult thing. He’s not cold or numb to the work, but he is able to handle it and keep his head as long as it’s not about Sam.

-Madison asks Sam to be the one to kill her and Dean watches Sam struggle. He’s been watching Sam carefully and protectively this entire episode.

-She uses language so similar to the language Sam uses to beg Dean to kill him—asking for help, saying she wants it to be him who does it, “I’m asking you to save me.” She tries to hand Sam the gun.

Dean gets up at this point and stands behind Madison, his eyes on Sam as he moves, and slowly takes the gun out of her hands. This shifts the focus off Madison and solely onto the brothers for the remainder of the episode.

His eyes stay on Sam’s as he does this, and Sam is somehow looking up at Dean pleadingly. His romantic interest is begging him for help with tears in her eyes in what will be the last moments of her life and Sam is staring at Dean behind her.

The sexual relationship between Sam and Madison is explicitly compared to Dean and Sam’s relationship. It wasn’t necessary for the werewolf character to be a woman who Sam sleeps with—the very first woman that he is with since Jessica. She’s the stand-in for Sam in this case, and Sam is put in Dean’s shoes.

The brothers go into the other room and Dean assures Sam he doesn’t have to do this, that he’ll handle it. He wants to take care of Sam and spare him this, just like he has since they were children, but he can’t this time. Sam feels he has to because she asked him, and asks Dean for the gun.

It’s a very intentional choice that Sam won’t do this for Madison until he has to ask Dean, and that in the end it’s a conversation between the brothers that forms the emotional tension and climax of the episode. Dean did what Sam needed him to do by being the one to give him the choice: let me protect you from this or do it yourself. Before, the choice was more about Madison. Now it’s about Sam and Dean’s relationship.

- Sam looks back at Dean before he walks away, like a frightened child who needs help because he really doesn’t want to do this, but he knows it’s the right thing to do as a hunter. In doing this, Sam has played out the two things from Madison that he wants from Dean, that Dean can never give him— Dean will never let their relationship become physical, and he will never kill Sam.

The camera stays on Dean’s face as the gun goes off and the episode ends. Dean can’t save Sam from this, he can’t protect him from one of the responsibilities that comes with their lives as hunters. He’s terrified that he won’t be able to save Sam at all. The days when he could take care of Sam and shield him are over, and they both have to leave that part of their childhood behind. It’s not that Dean can’t save Sam in the end, because at the end of all of this their love for each other is what saves the world. It’s that their innocence can’t survive what’s coming. They have to grow up and face the realities of their lives. Their incestuous love for each other is one of those realities, but they aren’t there yet.

#wincest #samdean #supernatural #spn meta #sam and dean #spn 2x17 #this episode has me feral howling at the moon like one of your French girls

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runariya · 27 days

Text

My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 4

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn fic rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, fluff, inner conflicts between good and bad, thoughts about murder, lies, date night, fluff, Jungkook is a hopeless romantic (let me live, I can't write him any other way), detailed description of assass!nation and fighting, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 7.3K

a/n: not edited - sorry 🥺

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • masterlist • 05

Like morning dew burning off beneath the warmth of the sun, the anticipation for your upcoming date with Jungkook became a soothing balm, easing the sting of your failed plans as they fade into insignificance. The thought of it has been with you all day yesterday, lurking at the corners of your mind, filling you with an unfamiliar, innocent lightness. There is something about the idea of being with him—outside of your daily routines, in a space where you can allow yourself to relax, just for a moment—that makes everything else seem distant and irrelevant.

And as the hours of the day passed in a series of shared classes, the world shrunk to just the two of you, a comfortable rhythm that left you both physically drained but somehow still energised by the sheer presence of one another. His attentiveness, the way he slid a snack bar onto your desk just when your energy had begun to wane in the afternoon, made you feel like a simple girl worth of care. And though you don’t often let yourself indulge in such sweet feelings, you couldn’t help but hope that you’ll find a way to return his kindness tenfold.

Now, in your very first class of the next day, you sit side by side in the lecture hall, fingers quietly tapping at your laptops as you take notes on the professor’s monotonous ramblings. It’s the same droning voice you’ve been subjected to since the class started an hour ago, and the coffee that once kept you alert is losing its grip quicker than you hoped it will, leaving you teetering on the edge of exhaustion and resignation before the day even started. Every word of his feels like it's passing through a fog, and you find yourself struggling to focus as the professor drones on and on and on.

It’s only when an incoming email notification pops up in the lower-right corner of your screen, and, almost in perfect synchronicity, you notice the same alert flash on Jungkook’s laptop beside you, that the fog barely lifts. The click of typing halts as you and Jungkook pause, exchanging brief glances with raised eyebrows before turning your attention back to the notification.

The subject line catches your attention first, sent from the university’s secretariat. The body of the email, however, is harder to grasp in its entirety, your eyes skimming the opening lines, as you catch only fragments—words like visit, top-students, and mayor. A deep sense of unease begins to build in your chest, even before the loud rap of knuckles against the lecture hall door interrupts the class.

Instinctively, you look up as the door creaks open, revealing the dean standing in the entranceway. His gaze sweeps over the room, disinterested in most of the students until it lands on you and Jungkook. His face splits into a smile so fake it looks like it was sculpted by hand, each muscle strained into place where you know they’ve never been there before. He exchanges a few words with the professor—empty pleasantries at best—before addressing the room in a louder voice.

“Jungkook, Y/N,” he calls over all the heads sitting in front of you, “you’re dismissed for the rest of the day. Please, follow me immediately.”

The wild noise of your inner darkness roars to life, a deafness that fills your ears and clouds your senses. The discomfort ripples through your body, tightening your grip on your laptop, but you can’t focus on anything other than the way your heartbeat has quickened. You don’t trust this sudden summons, don’t trust in you not having the control. Not at all.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jungkook whispers, nudging you lightly with his elbow as he begins to pack up his things. His smile is small but proud, as though this is a reward, a recognition of his hard work.

You follow him on autopilot, closing your laptop with a dull *thud* that echoes across the silent lecture hall. You barely notice the eyes on you as you both rise from your seats, barely register the beginning of curious murmurs or the professor’s lackluster attempt to regain control of the room. The only thing that barely grounds you is the presence of Jungkook beside you, his excitement not affecting you in the slightest.

When you step outside, you’re met by your friends, the rest of the group classified as “top students”. Yoongi and Jennie stand with bored indifference, neither seeming particularly interested in the sudden shift in the day’s events. Hoseok, on the other hand, mirrors Jungkook’s enthusiasm, his smile wide and full of good-natured anticipation. But it’s Taehyung who catches your eyes. He throws you a glance—concerned, questioning if you’re okay—but you shake your head subtly, silently willing him to stay calm. Whatever is happening, you’ll figure it out soon enough.

The dean doesn’t give you much time to think, as he’s already moving, expecting you all to follow like obedient ducklings. “Mayor Park will be arriving in half an hour,” he explains hurriedly, his voice clipped with stress. It’s only now that you notice the small sweat beads on his temple and neck, his white dress shirt turning translucent under his arms. “The press will be here as well, so be prepared for a spectacle. Mayor Park is here to meet you all, give some motivational speech, and for the usual PR. It’s crucial that you present yourselves well. You’ll be representing the university, so do not embarrass us! Go grab your lab coats and make yourselves look respectable. We’ll meet back at the main building in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, you hear me—no later!”

“Yes, Dean Yoon,” comes the collective response, though it’s more out of habit than genuine respect.

As the dean disappears down the hallway, the group begins heading towards the autopsy building to retrieve your lab coats. There’s some tension hanging over the group, though everyone seems to handle it differently.

“This is such a waste of time,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks beside you. “Like any of us care about some politician showing up to stroke his own ego.”

Jennie chuckles softly, flicking her hair over her shoulder, grazing your face as she walks before you. “It’s all for show. He doesn’t care about us either. We’re just props to make him look good in front of the press.”

“Props in lab coats,” Hoseok adds with a laugh. “But hey, free publicity, right?”

Jungkook is still smiling, his steps lighter than usual as he walks beside you as well. “I think it’s kinda cool. It’s not every day you get to meet Mayor Park, right? Maybe it’ll be fun.”

Yoongi gives him a pointed side-eye but doesn’t argue. Jennie just shrugs, her expression one of mild amusement as she looks over her shoulder, while Hoseok just grins, clearly not as bothered by the situation as Yoongi is. Taehyung, however, remains quiet, his usual playfulness subdued as he walks close behind you. You can feel his concern on your back, even though he says nothing, which you’re grateful for.

The enthusiastic conversation between Hoseok and Jungkook resumes all the way to the lab and while retreating your coats, but you stay quiet, lost in your own thoughts as you make your way to the autopsy building. The upcoming meeting with the mayor sits truly and utterly wrong with you, it disturbs your mind and peace, an unease that you can’t shake, making you restless, jumpy even. You hate not having control, especially when he’s involved, but you try to focus on the present, on the normalcy of walking with your friends, and preparing for nothing other than yet another tedious formality in your academic life. But it’s hard, the discomfort remains and clings to you like fluff to an old sweater.

The others still continue their conversation, Hoseok teasing Jungkook about his excitement, while Yoongi mutters something sarcastic about politics, but still, you just can’t seem to pay attention as the words fly over your head, your mind too preoccupied with the ominous feeling that’s been growing inside you since the dean’s arrival.

The walk back to the main building feels longer than it should, each step weighted down by the knowledge of what’s, or rather who’s waiting for you. As you near the entrance, the sight of the press setting up their cameras and microphones inside only heightens your unease. The dean is already there, waiting for you with a forced smile plastered on his face, his eyes darting between the clock and the approaching figure of Mayor Park’s entourage.

You all line up in a neat row inside the grand lobby of the main building, the sterile scent of freshly cleaned floors filling your senses, while the cameras are being prepped before you. The silence among you as you stand there doesn’t do much to make your thoughts clearer, every train of thought again and again broken off by the occasional shuffle of feet or the rustling of lab coats as you adjust yourselves into position. The others stand with varying degrees of interest and boredom, but you can’t seem to focus on yourself, can’t shake the consuming tension that’s been knotting tighter in your intestines since this fuss began.

Just as you get your breathing to even out, the grand doors swing open, and Mayor Park enters with a flourish, his well-tailored suit pristine under the lobby lights. He walks with a politician’s disgustingly practiced grace, his smile wide and calculated for the cameras now running. But your focus isn’t on the cameras. No—your gaze locks onto the three figures walking your way, your inner demon waking as if never slept to begin with.

The darkness spreads within you in milliseconds, making your skin prickle as your focus settles into one of a sniper. You’re eyes lock on Sangwook, his presence reminding you bitterly of the night you almost had part of your revenge, the night Pulse interrupted, the reason you’re still fighting this war at its beginning, still caught at the beginning of the shadows, still haunted by unfinished business. You can feel the darkness rising even more within you, clawing at your insides, hungry, restless like you’ve been the past half an hour.

But you force it down. Not here. Not now. Not with Jungkook standing beside you, not with your friends all around you, and certainly not with the press before you, cameras poised to capture every moment of this charade. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you bite back the urge to confront the devil and his companions. This isn’t the time for vengeance. You have to regain and stay in control. You have to keep up the act.

As Mayor Park steps forward to greet each of you in turn, offering hollow words of encouragement and praise, you school your expression into something neutral, something polite. But inside, the storm rages on, a battle between the light you’ve been trying so desperately to embrace and the darkness that has been your constant companion for so long. And when it’s your turn to shake Mayor Park’s hand, you can feel everyone's eyes on you, as if watching, waiting.

His hand lingers before you, PR-smile still fixed on his face, but his eyes—they are as empty as they were on that fateful night, void of anything possibly human. For a moment, you consider leaving him there, hand outstretched and waiting, watching the false warmth fade from his expression. But against your instincts, against your demon raging inside you, you reach out.

You clasp his hand strongly, calculating your movement, as your grip tightens deliberately around the base of his hand. And when for a millisecond his eyes flicker down to where your hands are joined, you know you’ve pressed the Ulnar nerve just right, sending sharp jolts of pain shooting through his pinky and ring finger, showing him that you did not break, that you rose from the ashes of the very flame he set to your family.

“It’s good to finally meet after all these years,” he says, his voice dripping with saccharine mockery. “Your father was such a loyal employee.”

The words, the false description of your father’s job, are poison, seeping into your veins, igniting the fury into a massive fireball that explodes under your skin. Loyal. A word meant to twist the knife deeper. You hold your smile, hollow and cold, a ghost of something real. Jungkook stands beside you, his confusion barely concealed as his gaze shifts between you, the mayor, and the tension between your clasped hands.

Dojin leans closer, tightening his grip, voice dropping to a near whisper as his disgusting perfume engulfs you. “You know, you look just like your mother. Truly angelic.”

Something inside you snaps. But the smile on your lips only widens, growing more hollow, more sinister. The words slither through your clenched teeth. “Funny, isn't it? It almost sounds like you’re seeking absolution in my resemblance to her. How quaint.” Your voice is laced with venom so sweet it almost passes as kindness.

For the briefest of moments, his smile falters, and beneath it, the rage—the same rage that lit up his eyes all those years ago—flares up, hot and visceral. But he masks it quickly, releasing your hand, and turns away to spout his lies to the press, painting the air with rehearsed phrases that drip with insincerity.

Jungkook leans in then, his voice soft but still filled with honest concern. "What was that?" His words are gentle, but his eyes are searching, trying to piece together the puzzle of your interaction.

You tilt your head slowly towards him, the smile still lingering on your lips, twisted and lunatic. “Just what it looked like,” you murmur, offering no more. The truth is buried too deep, and even if you tried, you know he wouldn’t understand the whole expanse of it all without disclosing everything. Sensing the wall you’ve built, or realising for the first time that there is one, Jungkook says nothing more, though you feel his eyes linger on you.

As the circus of an event winds down, the room empties, leaving behind nothing but the fading echoes of empty speeches. You drift with your friends towards the door, slipping back into the flow of meaningless chatter, though your mind remains miles away. Right before you step outside, you catch a fragment of the faint conversation of Dojin and his bodyguards, but it’s Jungkook who draws you back, his body shifting into your line of sight, blocking your view of the men who ruined you.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you ask, your voice distant, as if you’ve just returned from some far-off place.

Jungkook repeats himself, his tone gentle, patient. “I was asking if you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you reply, the lie slipping easily off your tongue, though your mind screams otherwise. 'Save me,' you think, but Jungkook doesn’t hear what you cannot say, and instead, he watches you again for a beat longer, blinking in his concern. But eventually, he lets it go, leaving the darkness surrounding your mind in peace.

Standing before your closet, your fingers linger over hangers as you wrestle with a rising panic. The wardrobe, once a reliable collection of your well maintained comfort, now seems to mock you with its lack of options. It feels absurd, really—the way you’ve spent nearly an hour staring at clothes that have never failed you before. But this time, the stakes are higher. This isn’t just another day, another class, or another mindless hangout with friends. This is a date with Jungkook, and not just any date—your first real date. The thought sends your mind spinning in circles, reexamining every outfit with a critical eye that never seems satisfied.

You keep telling yourself you’re overthinking it, and maybe you are, but as the minutes slip by, your nerves cling tighter around your brain. A decision must be made, and eventually, as time conspires against you as well and forcing your hand to make a forsaken choice, you settle on something that has always made you feel like the best version of yourself—simple yet chic. The outfit flatters your silhouette just enough to remind you that beauty can be effortless when it’s honest, so you pull it on, check yourself in the mirror, and despite the chaos in your head, you can’t help but feel a spark of confidence. You might have just overthought your way into something that actually works—yey!

Makeup follows, the ritual of it calming your frayed nerves, brushstrokes turning anxious energy into something delicate and intentional. By the time you’re done, you hardly recognise the reflection staring back at you, though you’re not sure if that’s because of the makeup or the sight of yourself as you once were.

A knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and you take a deep breath, smoothing your outfit one last time before going to open the door. But when you pull it open, you’re not met with Jungkook's familiar face, not at first. Instead, an enormous bouquet of white hydrangeas and roses takes up most of the doorway, its sheer size almost comical in its grandeur.

Jungkook is barely visible behind it, but he leans to the side, a soft, tentative smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with a brightness that catches your breath so painfully good, you have to suppress a choke. You’ve seen him look at you countless times, but this time, there’s something different in his gaze—something that makes the air between you crackle with emotions never spoken of.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice light, almost playful.

Your face splits into a wide grin, the sight of him nearly lost behind the monstrous bouquet sending a ripple of giggles through you. “Kook, you really didn’t have to.” But even as you say it, you know how much it means. He always knows how to surprise you, how to make you feel cherished in ways that words sometimes fail to capture.

His smile softens, eyes sparkling as he steps forward, handing you the bouquet which you barely can engulf. “I wanted to,” he says simply, and there’s an earnestness in his voice that makes your heart beat just a little bit stronger. “You deserve the world and more.”

You stare at the flowers, your heart swelling as a few tears threaten to blur your vision. “I… I’m speechless, Kook. This is…” you laugh, your voice shaking just enough to betray the emotion within you. “But why this size? That’s so expensive!”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he watches you cradle the bouquet in your short arms. “I’ve seen you scrolling through Pinterest enough times to know what you like,” he teases.

The flush that creeps up your neck feels like a deep red now, your face burning as you attempt to play it off. You turn towards the kitchen, the flowers still balanced poorly in your arms. “I’m going to need a bigger vase for these,” you joke, though you’re already searching for a bucket, anything large enough to hold them.

Jungkook follows behind, his presence filling the small space of the dorm with warmth you didn’t know was missing. As you find a suitable bucket and begin filling it with water, you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His cheeks are flushed now, too, but it’s the way his eyes never stray from you that makes your heart flip. There’s something different about him tonight. He’s always been kind, always attentive, but now it feels like every glance carries weight, like there’s a depth to his affection that wasn’t there before, or maybe you just never noticed it as clearly until now.

And it’s true—you’ve had a fondness for oversized bouquets ever since that one evening, deep into Dojin’s election campaign, when your father came home later than promised. He had been swept up in the political race and, in the chaos, forgot to call ahead. Your mother, of course, wasn’t angry. She knew him well enough to recognise that his silence wasn’t intentional. Still, despite his exhaustion, your father returned the night after with a massive bouquet, much like the one Jungkook had just given you, though your father’s was overflowing with red roses.

“Here, let me help.” Jungkook steps up behind you, effortlessly lifting the now full bucket from the sink as though it weighs nothing. “Where should I put it?”

“My room,” you answer softly, already reaching for some wrapping paper to wrap around the bucket’s base. “I need to dress this up. I don’t want to ruin the aesthetic.”

Jungkook follows you to your room, heaving the bucket and flowers onto your desk while you immediately start wrapping around it. He spins lazily in your desk chair, making you giggle despite the nerves that still flutter within you. As you carefully tie a ribbon around the makeshift vase, your voice, hesitant and quiet, resonates through the silence and small space between you.

“So… why hydrangeas and roses?” you ask, casting a glance at him, curious to hear his reasoning.

Jungkook stops swirling, his feet grounding him as his cheeks flush with again with faint colour. “Ah, well… they reminded me of you,” he admits, his voice growing quieter with each word while his hands run up and down his thighs. “I mean, their meanings reminded me of you.”

Your fingers still against the ribbon as you turn to face him more fully, the question evident in your gaze. “Their meanings?” you repeat softly, not sure what to make of his answer.

Jungkook doesn’t look down, still his shyness intensifies. “White hydrangeas symbolise grace… and heartfelt emotions,” he murmurs, his voice cracking slightly. “And white roses… they represent purity, innocence… and new beginnings.”

You think you might faint at his words, your innocent self celebrating deep within you at the thought of a new beginning. Could this—what’s happening between you and Jungkook—be more than just a first date? Could it be the start of something new, something untouched by the darkness that has followed you for so long? You’ve spent so much time buried under the burden of your past, so much time chasing shadows and vengeance, that the idea of starting fresh feels almost foreign and too soon. But with Jungkook… maybe, just maybe, you could find a new way forward.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion as you reach for him. Jungkook takes your hand without hesitation, his thumb tracing gentle patterns over your knuckles. His eyes never leave yours, and in their depths, you find something you never thought you’d feel again—hope.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook says quietly, pulling himself to his feet, his fingers still entwined with yours as you leave your dorm and walk off into the early night.

The restaurant Jungkook has chosen is familiar, a cozy little Italian place you’ve visited before with your friend group. But tonight, it feels different from all the times spent here. There’s a quiet intimacy to the way the lights cast an amber glow over the tables, and the soft strains of music seem to weave around the two of you, creating a cocoon that shields you from the rest of the world and everything that haunts you.

Jungkook pulls out your chair for you, a small gesture that makes your heart explode into confetti, making you fall for him deeper and deeper. His kindness isn’t new, but tonight, it feels magnified, every little thing he does carrying more weight than usual. As you both settle in, you can’t help but feel the shift in the air between you—the way it softly hums with something more than just friendship, something deeper and sweeter.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Jungkook begins as he picks up the menu, his eyes scanning the options but his attention clearly divided. “About how… you don’t always feel like you deserve nice things.”

You freeze for a moment, the words catching you off guard. You weren’t expecting him to bring it up again, especially not tonight. You’d mentioned it just this once, offhandedly, in a situation that felt light at the time, but apparently, Jungkook hadn’t forgotten.

“I just… I want you to know that you do,” he continues, his voice settling around you like a warm blanket. “You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

You smile, though it’s small, tentative, as you look down at the menu in your hands. It’s not easy to accept his words, not with the weight of your past still clinging to you like tar, but his sincerity makes it harder to dismiss them outright. He means what he’s saying—he truly believes you deserve more than the shadows you’ve been living in.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice quiet as you meet his loving gaze.

Jungkook nods, smile widening as he reaches across the table to take your hand. His touch is warm, grounding you in a way that makes you feel more present, more here. You’re not sure when you started feeling this way about him—when his presence became something that could chase away the darkness. But sitting here with him now, with his hand in yours, it feels like maybe this was meant to be all along.

The conversation flows easily after that, the two of you slipping into the familiar rhythm you’ve always shared, but there’s something new underneath it all, a current of something stronger, something that feels a little like the beginning of love. It’s in the way he smiles at you when you laugh, the way his fingers linger against yours when he hands you the bread basket, the way his eyes soften into puddles of shining stars when you catch him staring at you across the table.

"It does feel different, doesn’t it?" you ask, fingers playing with the edge of your napkin.

"Yeah," he says, leaning forward slightly. "But good different."

You nod, letting your gaze fall to the candle flickering between you. "It does. We’ve been here so many times. But it—" You pause, smiling softly. "It feels special tonight."

Jungkook grins, cheeks flushed as he glances at the menu. "So, tell me something I don’t know about you."

You bite your lip, thinking. "Well, my childhood was... complicated." You choose your words carefully, keeping the truth buried beneath layers of vague recollections. "My parents, they passed away when I was a teen."

He looks up from the menu, his expression gentle. "I read about that fire. I didn’t want to bring it up... I’m really sorry."

You offer him a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "It’s okay. My mom was cooking dinner that night... things just went wrong." The words are light, brushed off like the remnants of a distant memory. You’re careful not to let him see the truth that festers beneath.

He nods slowly, his gaze searching yours. "And after... you lived with Taehyung?"

"Yes," you say, exhaling a soft breath. "His family took me in. We’ve been close ever since childhood." You lift your glass, taking a small sip before continuing. "And now... here I am, med school and all."

Jungkook chuckles lightly. "You're amazing, you know that? Everything you've been through... and you're still standing strong."

You meet his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you, something fragile but blooming despite the faul soil. "Thank you. How about you?"

“My childhood? It was… pretty normal, I guess. My parents were always around, super protective. Especially my mom. She used to hover a lot,” he says with a soft laugh, a warm, nostalgic smile spreading across his face. “She’d always pack me lunch, even in high school. And not just a sandwich or something small. I’m talking full-on bento boxes, with little designs in the food. It was kind of embarrassing back then, but now I look back and miss it, you know?”

“Oh, I can tell, you’re still eating like a bottomless pit.” You joke, knowing he likes it when you’re this playful.

He glances at you then, you expect him to laugh with you, but his smile is dimming a little as he continues. “My dad… he was strict, but he just wanted the best for me. Pushed me hard, made sure I always had something to work towards. But… I was a bit of a handful,” he admits with a grin. “I think I drove them crazy sometimes, always running around, never sitting still. My older brother had it together, but me? I just wanted to do everything at once.”

“That’s totally normal, Kook, don’t beat yourself up for this.” You reach for his hand, cradling it to soothe any doubt he has in himself.

His gaze softens as he shrugs, almost shy. “They gave me a lot, though. Support, love… I was really lucky.” He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking up to meet yours after staring at your joint hands. “But I didn’t always appreciate it back then. You know how it is when you’re young… you don’t really see everything they do for you until you’re older.”

“Yeah.” You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to stir the conversation away from this heavy topic. You appreciate his honesty, you really do, but it’s the bitter taste of you holding back the truth, that blocks your thoughts from forming.

Thankfully, Jungkook leans back in his chair, his expression softening as he studies you. "So, what do you like? I mean, aside from making everyone in class jealous with your grades?"

You laugh, a genuine sound that cuts through your mind’s fog. "I like simple things, really. Music, books, late-night walks... And you?"

"I’m pretty much the same. Music, of course... and working out, boxing. But I’m guessing you already know that," he adds with a sheepish grin. "It helps me clear my mind, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," you reply, nodding. "Sometimes, you need something to take the edge off. For me, it’s those cute kitten videos."

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow. "I didn’t know that."

You shrug. "Well, now you do."

He smiles, a tender smile that makes you want to capture it like a polaroid. "I like learning things about you."

You return his smile without a beat, your heart light and singing as you say "And I like sharing them with you." And the conversation doesn’t seem to crease after that.

By the time the meal is over, you’re both lingering in your seats, reluctant to let the night end. You know you’ll have to return to your dorm eventually, but for now, you’re content to stay in this moment a little longer, to savour the warmth that fills the space between you.

As Jungkook walks you back to your dorm, the night cool against your flushed skin, you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way—since you’ve allowed yourself to feel this way. And as you reach your door, turning to face him, you realise that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something good.

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence swirls around you, but it’s not uncomfortable, filled with all the things you want to say but don’t quite know how to express. He steps closer, his hand finding yours once again, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But instead, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the gesture so sweet, so tender, that it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“Goodnight, ___,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, your voice barely more than a breath.

As you watch him take a step back, your heart feels light, full in a way it hasn’t been in years. There’s still so much you don’t know—so much uncertainty about what the future holds—but for the first time in a long time, you feel hopeful. Maybe this is just the beginning, but it feels like a good one.

As Jungkook walks away backwards, still smiling at you, still reluctant to let the night end, something shifts within you, and it’s like the light that forced your brightness within you to shine in its full force, dims with every step he takes, taking it and all the warmth with him as if it always was his to begin with. The smile on your face turns brittle, plastic, and a hollow sensation settles in your chest. Behind the mask of sweetness and light that you’ve worn for the evening, the impatience of the demon within you grows, gnawing forcefully at the edges of your control. The demon magnifies, stretching and clawing, until all remnants of joy and happiness dissolve into the endless void aching for revenge.

You step inside your dorm, and as the door clicks shut, the smile falls from your lips like a discarded veil at a wedding. You waste no time, and strip off the clothes that made you feel beautiful just moments ago and replace them with the black gear you’ve come to associate with your truth and fate.

Something inside you flips, like a switch toggled into place, and just like that, you’re gone—no longer the person who had been with Jungkook at dinner, no longer the person who basked in his warmth. You’re someone else now. Someone darker. Someone deadly. There’s no joy left. No happiness. Only a singular, burning purpose that consumes everything else. The void inside you aches for release, for the satisfaction of revenge, and it’s all you can feel now.

You begin to prepare methodically, stretching your muscles and joints, warming your body for what the night demands from you. You remember the conversation you overheard between Dojin and his stupid bodyguards—Chulsoo will be alone tonight. The thought lingers. You wanted to start with Sangwook, to make him the first, but maybe fate is offering you a different path. Maybe this is a sign that Chulsoo, taller and stronger though he may be, is meant to go first. It doesn’t matter in the end; they will all fall. Every last one of them.

You slip out of your dorm and move through the neighbourhood, undetected, a shadow among shadows. It’s a path you know well, the routine of it bringing you a twisted kind of joy. The city’s pulse begins to pick up as you near the bustling nightlife, where buildings stretch higher into the sky and people crowd the streets, oblivious to the darkness lurking in their midst. You stick to the alleyways, your steps light, your movements fluid, until you reach the first landmark—an alley beside a Chinese restaurant.

You pull yourself up onto the trash bins outside, the narrowness of the space making it easier to scale the walls like you’ve done countless times before. From there, it’s a series of practiced motions—small leaps from one rooftop to the next, each building taller than the last as you make your way toward your destination.

At last, you arrive at the balcony of Chulsoo’s office, your landing soft and graceful, almost feline in its silence. The city buzzes far below, but up here on this skyscraper, it’s eerily quiet. The office is dark except for the dim night lighting of the building, casting long shadows across the room as if painted with charcoal. You glance around to make sure no one is near, your senses tuned to the slightest disturbance. The night is lonely, just as you’d hoped.

You slip behind one of the balcony posts, peering inside through the glass. The office’s low lighting is enough to spot what you came for. There, seated at Dojin’s desk, is Chulsoo. He’s lounging in the chair with his feet propped up on the desk, watching a football game on his phone. The back of him faces you, his attention completely absorbed in the small screen.

You test the sliding door’s lock silently, and to your satisfaction, it moves without resistance. Unlocked. Another careless mistake on his part, another beautiful wrapped gift to you. The door opens just enough for you to slip inside, the noise of the city creeping in faintly, but he doesn’t hear it. He’s wearing earphones—his second mistake. It feels like luck is on your side tonight, but you know better than to trust in fortune. You’ve come too far for that.

The demon inside you snarls in anticipation, laughing menacingly as you creep up behind Chulsoo. You catch your reflection in the darkened screen of Dojin’s computer—the mask you wear, its smile wide and empty, mirroring the cold emptiness and lunacy within you. Childhood remains oblivious, lost in the game playing on his phone, unaware of the storm about to descend upon him.

In one swift motion, you lock your arms around his throat, pulling him into a headlock. His phone slips from his hand, clattering to the floor with a broken screen. His body reacts instinctively, muscles straining against yours as he thrashes. But it’s his feet—still propped on the desk—that give him the leverage he needs. With a powerful push, he throws himself backward, sending both of you tumbling to the ground. You hit the floor hard, the weight of his body crashing into yours, pinning your legs awkwardly beneath the chair.

But you only grit your teeth against it, refusing to let it slow you down. Chulsoo wrestles to free himself from your grip, and you dig your elbow into his front, trying to regain the upper hand. He’s taller than you, stronger, and he uses his size to his advantage, rolling over in your hold to straddle you, his hands finding your throat in an instant. You twist beneath him, trying to slip free, your body burning with the effort as your vision starts to blur.

You manage to kick the chair out from between you, throwing his balance off just enough to create an opening. In a flash, you’re on your feet again, lunging for him. The fight spills out of the office, your bodies colliding with walls and furniture as you grapple for control. Everything happening all at once—punches and kicks, blocks and dodges, the sound of grunts and gasps echoing through the empty office space. Chulsoo grabs a heavy glass ashtray from the desk, swinging it wildly at your head. You duck just in time, the ashtray shattering against the wall behind you.

He’s relentless, coming at you with the kind of brute force that could only come from someone used to winning fights by sheer size and strength alone. But you’re quicker, more agile. Every time he lands a blow, you counter it with something sharper, something faster. The office transforms into a battlefield, chaos reigning as desks are overturned, chairs sent crashing to the floor, papers swirling in the air like torn shreds of white flags that will never be surrendered. The metallic tang of blood fills your mouth where one of his punches grazed your lip, but you taste it with satisfaction, the pain fuelling your determination even further.

Chulsoo grabs you by the collar, throwing you towards the door that leads to the staircase. You crash into it with a heavy thud, the impact sending the door flying open, while feeling your joints blocking through your back and ribs. A low “Uff” escapes your lips as you hit the railing behind you, the cold metal biting into your spine. But there’s no time to catch your breath—Chulsoo charges at you, full force, his eyes wild with the intent to finish you off.

At the last second, you spin out of his path, and he crashes into the railing with a sickening thud. He staggers, dazed, and you seize the opportunity, wrapping your arm around his throat from behind yet again, pulling him into another chokehold. You tighten your grip, feeling the demon within you thrashing against the cage of your control, hungry for the kill. You could end him right here, with your bare hands. It would be easy. It would be satisfying. But something goes wrong.

Chulsoo’s foot slips against the slick floor, his balance faltering. Before you can tighten your hold, he stumbles backward, his body teetering dangerously over the edge of the railing. His eyes widen in panic as he tries to grab hold of something, anything, to stop his fall. But there’s nothing to hold onto.

With a final scream, he tips over the railing, his body plummeting into the abyss below. The sound of his fall echoes through the stairwell, punctuated by the sickening thud of his body hitting the railings on the way down. You watch, frozen, as his limp form finally crashes to the ground below, a twisted heap of flesh, bone and blood.

This isn’t how you wanted it to end.

The rage that fills you is immediate and scorching. The demon inside you roars, seething with frustration, its hunger again left unsatisfied. This was supposed to be precise, fucking controlled. You were supposed to kill him with your own hands, not let him fall like some clumsy idiot. This… this is unsatisfying to all end. Again.

You grip the cold metal of the railing with white-knuckled fury, your mind spinning with barely contained rage that courses through your veins. Every inch of you aches for release, for some way to expel the unforgiving heat that burns beneath your skin. But there’s no outlet. There’s only the hollow victory of Chulsoo’s broken body far below.

The door behind you creaks open, and you feel him before you even turn around.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to school your expression. When you finally turn, your face masks, twisted into a smile that never reaches your eyes—a smile that could only belong to someone who no longer cares.

Pulse stands there, his eyes wide with shock as he surveys the scene. He knows immediately that he’s too late. His shoulders slump, the weight of his failure settling over him like a shroud. You can see the realisation dawning in his eyes—he’s failed to stop you this time.

Without a care, you walk towards him, your steps slow and. Graceful where no grace is found. He watches you approach, his gaze searching for something—an explanation, perhaps, or a hint of remorse. But there’s nothing for him to find. You’re empty. The void inside you yawns wider.

As you pass him, you glance up at him with that same twisted smile, teeth painted in your own blood and murmur, “You’re too late, Dulls. Try harder next time, yeah?” You give his chest a light pat, a condescending gesture that only deepens the devastation in his eyes.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t react. He just watches you disappear into the night, unsatisfied and unseen as you came, leaving nothing behind but the wreckage of your vengeance.

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • masterlist • 05

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like! And to spice things up even more, we'll do a little game through the story:

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

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