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winchesterszvonecek · 1 year ago

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Librarian - [ Sam Winchester ]

Summary: You and Sam finally introduce yourselves to one another after he’s been frequenting your library for weeks

Word Count: 1392

Warnings: reader insert - [ was written with a female reader in mind but there is no mention of pronouns/description so it can really be read by any reader ], fluff

Masterlist | Sam Masterlist

You always loved working in the library. You loved the peaceful atmosphere, the smell of new books mixed with that of the old ones. You loved seeing which books people checked out and getting to hear their thoughts about those they’d returned. You loved recommending your own favourites to people and you always got so excited when they returned them with a smile on their face as that usually meant they enjoyed it, something you couldn’t help but puff up with pride over.

But most of all you enjoyed it because you got to see him. That tall, handsome, broad shouldered, brunette guy who’d often come in and sit alone in the corner, flicking through rather old and fragile looking books. You never could quite see just what he was reading but you knew it had to be interesting as he barely ever looked up from the browning pages beneath him.

You didn’t know his name. You’d never spoken to him, never so much as even seen him look back at you, but there was just something about him that you couldn’t quite shake. You knew it from the first day you saw him, and from the next day when you arrived at work dressed a little nicer than you usually did as you secretly wanted to impress him. Wanted him to notice you. But like every other day, this mysterious man never so much as uttered a word. He just sat in his usual spot, flicking away through enough books to start his own library.

It was the same almost every day, until today.

You’d been waiting for him to show up, your chin resting on your hand as you anxiously tapped your nails against the desk. He always arrived at the same time everyday but today he was a little later, something that intrigued you as he struck you as the type of guy with a routine. You were almost about to give up, to go back to sorting the newest additions to your tiny library when the door opened, the bell above it jingling softly as it did.

You didn’t know whether the shiver you felt was from the draught of the mid-autumn air that seeped in or whether it was from the sight of him walking in, but whatever it was, you didn’t care. He was here, only this time… He wasn’t alone.

“Why am I here, Sam?” His friend asked, peeved, as he gestured around him. After all this time you’d seen him, you’d never once heard his name. Sam. He looked like a Sam.

“Because, Dean…” Sam replied gruffly, grabbing Dean by the arm and dragging him towards his usual table that was tucked away in the corner. You couldn’t help the feeling you got over his voice. His deep, smooth voice that you could listen to for hours if he’d let you. “I’m sick of doing research by myself.”

“What are you talking about? You love research.” Dean protested, shaking his arm from Sam’s hold as you raised your eyebrow at his words. Research? You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of research he could be doing, especially when you’d taken a little peek at the books he’d returned yesterday and noticed they were all related to the supernatural.

You straightened, subtly fixing your hair as you began to busy yourself, stealing looks towards the two men in the corner of the room. The men you couldn’t help but think were brothers now, given the way they kept bickering towards one another, something that you couldn’t help but chuckle quietly over as you scanned new books into the system.

You were so deep into your own thoughts, one’s that may or may not have involved Sam, that you hadn’t even heard him approach the desk, not until you turned around and spotted him, his sudden presence making you jump in your skin.

“Sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sam chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head as you lowered your hand from your chest, where it had landed after he’d almost scared you half to death.

“No, no. It’s… It’s okay.” You breathed out, setting aside the book in your other hand as you gathered yourself. You couldn’t help but blush a little, the tips of your ears redder than the shirt that covered Sam’s chest. “Can I- Can I help you with something?” You asked, praying you didn’t seem as nervous as you felt.

“Yeah, actually…” He began, clearing his throat as his eyes shifted around him before they landed back on yours, sending a flutter throughout your stomach. “I was wondering, and this is gonna sound a little… out there, I guess, but uh, do you have any books on necromancy?”

“Necromancy?” You repeated, his request making you forget the nervousness you felt around him as you eyebrow raised, before it fell into a furrow as you couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja-vu. You moved closer, leaning your palms on the table before you asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know Bobby Singer would you?”

“Uh, how did you, uh, how did you know?” Sam asked, feeling as flustered as you might have felt had he not asked you for such a request.

“He used to come in here a lot, asking for all sorts of books on the supernatural world… Not to mention the half dozen different bible versions he would ask me for.” You said with a chuckle, hearing the rather nervous one leave Sam’s lips as nothing more than a breath. “Anyway, I uh, I should have what you’re looking for, somewhere that is… Follow me.”

You cocked your head in the general direction of the supernatural section, one that had grown exponentially after youl first met Bobby, as he always seemed to tell you that you needed to upgrade your collection, something you were glad for otherwise you’d have had to disappoint Sam.

The two of you walked in silence towards the back of the library, where you soon began scanning the shelf before your eyes landed on a specific old leather-bound book that sat amongst the other, you guessed it, old books. You pulled it out, being mindful of its weight and delicacy before you blew off a thin layer of dust and held it out towards Sam.

“Sorry about the dust… This section doesn’t see many guests other than you and well, Bobby… Although I haven’t seen him in a while.” You said with a touch of curiosity.

“Yeah, he uh, he usually just sends me now.” Sam chuckled, taking the book from you with a smile. “Says it saves him the trip.”

“I see.” You nodded, your smile wide enough to send a flutter through Sam’s chest. You folded your arms, glancing down at the ground before back up at him, your face heating terribly under his soft gaze. “Well, I’ll leave you to it but just let me know if there’s anything else you need… You know, books on witchcraft or whatever other weird and wonderful things you guys seem to like.”

Your words made Sam laugh softly, something that had your stomach tie itself together, in a good way obviously, but you just prayed it wasn’t showing on your face.

“Thanks, uh…” Sam began, his brows knitting together a little, forming a line between them. “You know, I’ve been coming here for a while now and I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh.” You seemed a little surprised that he seemed interested in learning your name, as like he said, he’d been coming here for a while now and had never asked. But when you heard him repeat your name, in a way you very much liked as it rolled off his tongue so velvety smooth that it sent a chill up your spine, you couldn’t help but wish you’d gathered up the courage to talk to him sooner.

“That’s a pretty name.” He said with what almost seemed like a flirtatious tone, one that would have had you on the floor had it been any stronger. He smiled once more before he turned on the spot and began to walk away, which made your stomach drop out of disappointment until he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder towards you. “My name’s Sam by the way… Sam Winchester.”

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prentissluvr · 4 months ago

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angelic — ruby . . . ; for @deadgirlsam !

౨ৎ . . . ⟢ angel!reader. ruby thinks you look like fog in the morning, before the sun comes out. she thinks you look pretty in brown and she thinks she hates you for being an angel. she’s wrong, only because she loves you for it. because you don’t care for god or rules. she thinks she’s angry that you know no devotion. she knows devotion. but she also knows she’ll keep meeting you in graveyards and forests and take advantage of the fact that you’re beginning to find the devotion in you for her. there are angels and demons alike hunting you down, but you serve her purpose and you kiss her against trees so she’s going to keep you. she’s not going to let them get to you. ruby thinks you look like fog in the morning, before the sun comes out. ruby likes fog in the morning, especially before the sun comes out.

#help i've never written anything for ruby idk how but here we are??#i love her sm #ruby supernatural #ruby moodboard #supernatual moodboard #ruby x reader #ruby x reader supernatural #ruby supernatural aesthetic #ruby supernatural blurb #supernatural aesthetic

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miss-madness67 · 1 year ago

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Advent Calendar 2022: DAY 2 (Dean)

Christmases with the love of your life, Dean Winchester.

Hop in for 25 days of Christmas and fluff.

Day 1

Throughout the next year, you see Dean fairly often, given the amount of time you spend with your uncle because of your family’s situation. You don’t become friends immediately, you start off dancing around each other; being nice but not actually attempting to spend time together. The situation you’re both in is what pushes you to be more. His father drops him and Sam off every hunt that he deems too dangerous. You knew this used to occur even before you were around Bobby, but you weren’t aware it happened that frequently.

When you ask your uncle about it, his cryptic response doesn’t tell you much: “John does his best to keep the boys safe.” But even then, you see the hesitation in his eyes. So, you continue to run into Dean occasionally, sometimes you help him take care of Sam, and he appreciates it. Steadily, your trust starts to grow, yet it isn’t until one particular night that you realize the true extent of your bond.

The snow covering the ground crunches beneath someone’s steps. The blizzard stopped a few hours ago, it’s so cold outside that you can’t stop the shivers, yet you refuse to go back inside the house. There’s too much going on inside your head for you to properly focus on the festivities. The Winchesters are back again this Christmas, and while you’re glad you’re not alone with Bobby in the uncomfortable silences that have been happening recently, you’re not in the mood to drink punch and laugh. One look at John and his children makes you realize what you don’t have.

“What are you doing here? It’s freezing,” Dean’s voice doesn’t surprise you. You knew he was bound to follow.

“I’m just thinking,” you murmur as he sits beside you.

He hums, “about what?” And for the first time since your family became a mess, you decide to confide in someone.

Day 3

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Tags: @sweetwerewolfqueen @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @perpetualabsurdity @deanswaywardgirl @seppys-return-to-madness @desimarie12 @hobby27 @mrspeacem1nusone

#fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #spn x reader #dean advent calendar #advent calendar #spn advent calendar #supernatual christmas #christmas fanfiction #christmas #dean x reader #dean x you

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waynes-multiverse · 2 years ago

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Plastic Hearts – Part 11

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, angst, crack, implied smut, unwanted pregnancy & mentions of abortion, fluff, a break-up, one-sided pining by an idiot

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Here we go... 🤓🍿 By the way, for the assholes who are planning to send me some lecturing ask about this, here’s a lesson for you: I. NEVER. LEARN. Chances are you’re only gonna make it worse, so... Enjoy the drama, babes! 🖤

<< 10 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

11. Glory Days

Sometimes it only takes one little mistake, one drunken decision, to completely ruin your life.

In Y/N’s case, that mistake definitely was sleeping with her best friend’s husband. She paid direly for that error of judgment. And still, the punishment doesn’t seem to be over. Life just loves to screw her.

Oh God, no pun intended…

Groaning loudly, she lets her head fall into her palms as she sits on the cool edge of the dirty bathtub in a motel she calls her home these days and ponders where it all went wrong. Why does it never seem to stop?

“Y/N?”

The young actress startles as she hears the director burst into her room and call for her. Two nights ago, they camped out together by the pool, and it was nice. She’s caught another glimpse of the real Dean, the one that’s hiding underneath all the cynicism and white powder. And she can’t lie – she really likes that guy. That Dean is incredibly smart, quick-witted, and, most surprising of all, kind.

And maybe in another world, another life, Y/N could see something more than a collegial friendship with him. However, she clearly seems to be stuck in the wrong universe.

The bathroom doorknob rattles before being met with resistance, causing her to frown as the director’s voice chimes outside, “Hey, why is it locked?”

“Dean! I’m-… I’m busy here, okay? Why would you just barge into a bathroom that isn’t yours?!”

“Busy, huh?” Y/N can hear his smirk even through the door, her frown only deepening. “Doing some self-love in there, sweetheart? Want some help?”

“No, I’m-… I’m not feeling well,” she splutters and lets a sigh past her lips.

“Oh, uh… you want me to get you something? I can run to the pharmacy,” he offers, and admittedly, it’s the sweetest thing he’s done so far. So sweet, in fact, it cracks her heart a little when she has to push him away.

“No, I’m good. Thanks… Can you-, uhm… can you just leave me alone for a little while, please?” Y/N presses lips and eyes tightly together during the beat of silence, forcing herself not to sob like a baby and make a fucking noise. He won’t leave if she does.

“Yeah, uhm… sure.” He doesn’t have to say a lot for Y/N to know he feels defeated. “Just… I’ll be in my room if you need anything, alright?”

“Okay, thanks, Dean.”

And once she hears his footsteps fade into the distance and the motel room door close again, she releases the sobs she’s been holding in.

Life in paradise was good for a little while. After their cozily intimate sleepover by the pool, everything was perfectly fine and better than ever between the director and the actress – new heights. Then, forty-eight hours later, according to Dean’s clock, Y/N inexplicably withdrew herself. The last two nights, she declined to hang out with him because she wasn’t feeling well. Aside from that, she talks less, she’s quieter and less vivid than usual, and she sticks mostly to herself, even around the other girls.

He may be reading too much into the situation, and she might just really feel under the weather. Women do get moody sometimes, so maybe it’s just that and nothing personal against him. Dean’s noticed mood swings with the other women before as well. So far, he has identified two cycles of the moon and avoids each cluster of pack sisters accordingly whenever the time comes. Still, he wants to make sure he hasn’t accidentally upset Strindberg with his attitude again, so he planned a little bonding trip for them today to get to the bottom of this issue.

It’s sleuthing time.

So, in the early morning hours, Y/N’s knuckles tap on his door as she peeks her pretty head inside his office. “You wanted to see me, boss?”

“Yeah, uh, you wanna go see a venue with me? Cas is MIA, and I could use a second opinion,” Dean explains, offering her an inviting smile. “Pilot’s just around the corner.”

“Sure,” she beams excitedly. “I’d be honored to have a say in the decision-making process.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna have a say, sweetheart. I just need someone to disagree with, so I can clarify my own instincts,” Dean quips and eagerly grabs his leather jacket from the chair, joining her by the door with a cheery smile. A work excuse was the best option to get her to agree to spend time with him. She never says no to more work.

“Oh, uh, of course, boss,” Y/N nods, ever the pleaser. “I’d be happy to do that, too.”

Dean stops inches in front of her and wets his plump lips, a daring smirk shaping into form as he leans closer and pins her in the doorframe, her small body caged in by his strong arms. “What else would you do for me, huh, sweetheart?”

The director’s flirting has become more brazen recently, loving how he always makes her squirm. God, all he wants to do is fuck her, please her, and praise her.

Shit. Maybe that’s why she’s been avoiding him. Dean was under the assumption she’s grown accustomed to his flirtatious nature at this point in their friendship and knows it’s only fun and games, but perhaps he was wrong.

However, Y/N’s easy reply only leaves more question marks behind in his mind. She smirks teasingly and pats his chest, “I’d give you CPR if you overdose. C’mon, tiger, let’s go location scouting!”

“We had a booking cancel at the last minute – Styx. But you didn’t hear it from me,” the vixen event manager in a short skirt and a lot of cleavage gossips with a wink as the pair tours the grand theater Downtown.

“Whoa,” Y/N gasps as her mesmerized eyes roam the theatrical decor of the giant hall, sparkling gold and velvet purple adorning its walls, carved with beautiful and extensive ornaments.

“Good, right? Used to be a porno theater,” Dean adds with a sly grin.

“Well, it must’ve been the golden age of whacking off,” Y/N giggles. “Was it Aztec porn?”

“Mayan, actually,” the event vixen tells her. “This used to be part of the Mayan Revival movement of the 20s.”

“Huh. Did it involve blood sacrifice?” Y/N quips and barely holds in her snort as the vixen shoots her a glare.

“Your girlfriend is quite the comedian,” the woman grits and aims her death stare at him now.

“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend,” Y/N throws in quickly. Too quick. She could hesitate a little, you know? Do the awkward dance with him of who gets to say it, but instead, she even sends him a wink like she’s his fucking wing woman, trying to score him a date with the vixen. No thanks. Why does she never understand that he wants to spend time with her and her alone?

The woman then informs them about the price and excuses herself with great relief, leaving the pair to look around on their own.

“I mean, the place looked great in Indiana Jones,” Y/N notes jokingly.

“What’s the matter with you? You’re here as a benign sounding board,” Dean grunts, feeling strangely attacked. He knows he’s only overreacting because he still doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. He doesn’t like being ignored, and it’s clearly messing with his brain chemistry. “You’re not the director. You don’t have my vision.”

“Fine, calm down.” Y/N only rolls her eyes in amusement over his defensive grumpiness. She knows him too well already, and it doesn’t help to erase the twinge in his heart. “What are you picturing? Tell me about your vision.”

“Well, alright.” Enthusiastically, Dean steps into the center of the huge theater and rubs his palms together, explaining his next vision of pure genius, “So, we’re gonna put the ring right in the middle, get rid of that stage, and change out those shitty ropes we have and make ‘em pink.”

His grin is only getting wider the more he talks about it, close to giddily jumping on the spot. The director is in his element, and it only helps that his muse intently hangs on every word that leaves his lips, an impressed smile and admiring gaze following his movements.

“Now, there’s gonna be people up there-,” he thumbs over his shoulder to the gallery, “-so we’re gonna put a stationary camera up here, maybe add a camera on a jib, moving around... But I’ll leave enough room around the sides of the ring, so I can get in with the handheld, and the audience can feel the struggle, the drama, the victory, the defeat… I mean, this could either feel dinky or it could feel epic, so let’s go big. Let’s make it visceral, let’s make it like a-... a fucking rock show!”

“Dean, this is amazing,” Y/N beams a bright, thousand-watt smile, and his heart is close to detonating when she looks at him like he’s a goddamn genius. The massive effects her tiny bit of admiration and praise can have on his dick are astounding. “This is perfect!”

“Told ya,” Dean winks cockily, but his ears and cheeks are blushing scarlet red, feeling the eagerness of the butterflies rushing through his stomach and conquering his heart. They’re downright somersaulting in there. “Hey, uh, I was thinking since we’re already on the road, why not make a day out of it? Let’s grab some greasy lunch, maybe drive to the pier, see a movie…”

“Dean, I-, uh, I can’t,” Y/N tells him with a remorseful look and chews her lip almost bloody.

Jesus fucking Christ, that woman really knows how to crush a man’s soul. She’s a true heartbreaker, which means she’s completely unaware of her evil spell. They’re the worst kind.

“C’mon, why not? We’re friends, right? You said you liked our friendship,” he reminds her with a playful smile.

His boyish charm coaxes a small giggle out of her, but the reluctance remains, “I do, but–”

“Then, let’s hang out together! I promise it’s not weird. I’m your boss, so I should know, alright?” How did he instantly make this weird again? She’s not supposed to think of him as her goddamn employer. Why the hell does he keep mentioning it? Well, aside from the kinky little fantasy he has buried in the back of his brain… On second thought, that’s probably exactly why he mentioned it. Never mind.

“It’s not that. It’s not about you. I’m just not feeling my best this week, okay? We can do something next week,” Y/N explains, her look pleading with him to just accept her flimsy answer, but he can’t. He’s stubborn like that. “I was actually hoping you could give me tomorrow off?”

“What, why? You can’t just have the day off,” he snaps with a stern brow. Why is she trying to avoid him? What, now she doesn’t even wanna come to the gym anymore? She loves that filthy place, and she never has anything better to do. That woman breathes nothing but work. “Look, I know I said we’re friends, but I can’t just make exceptions for you.”

“It’s something personal I have to deal with, okay? I’m ahead of everyone else, anyway,” Y/N argues with a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna make sure you stay ahead because I’m the fucking director,” Dean barks and scratches the nape of his neck, the crazy thoughts itching his snowed brain. “Is this about me? It is, isn’t it? Look, if you don’t wanna be friends and hang out with me, just fucking say so. Don’t give me some bullshit excuse. I’m a grown man. I can handle rejection, okay? What, you think I’m gonna fire you like some pathetic child?”

“Dean, what? No–”

“Is this because I said I liked you?” he continues his spiral of conspiracy theories, not paying attention to her in the slightest as he starts to pace the theater floor, arms wildly gesturing. “I’m sorry, okay? I think our wires just got crossed… I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I like you as a person, alright? I’m not trying to fuck you or weasel my way into your goddamn pants, sweetheart.”

Oh boy, that’s a lie if he ever heard one. It’s all he does, day and night, but he has a reason for it, you know? And it’s not just plain horniness. He actually likes her personality, which is rare. He usually hates most people, but he supposes hate always comes easier than love.

“I know that. It’s not–”

“So, this is about the kiss again? I thought we already talked about that shit and were good,” he huffs and shakes his head, feeling at the end of his wits. What else could it be?

“We are,” she reassures him through gritted teeth. Why is she suddenly so angry?

“Then what the hell is going on with you, huh? Why the fuck are you ignoring me and don’t wanna eat lunch with me? It’s just goddamn lunch, Y/N! You always act like I’m such an unbearable monster. I mean, yeah, sometimes I’m a little inappropriate… But still, I’m a pleasant person to be around, okay?! I’m adorable! There’s a lot of people, women specifically, who love spending time with me–”

“OH MY GOD! WOULD YOU SHUT UP?! I’M PREGNANT!”

As the remnants of her sentence echo through the deathly silent theater, his throat closes and cuts off all air supply to his lungs. He gapes at her like a fucking idiot, close to hyperventilating, while Y/N waits patiently for his shock to subside. His heart isn’t racing, though. It’s a steady, strong beat that ticks like a time bomb in his ribcage, the countdown ringing in his ears.

And then, his mind does something incredible. It begins to think about offering to raise the kid with her, conjuring up a perfect, suburban life with a white picket fence. Y/N has zero dollars in her bank account, while Dean owns a small home in Burbank. It’s big enough for three, and he’s certain her bestie’s husband is not going to volunteer for that job. All of a sudden, there’s a warmth spreading in his gut and climbing to his frozen heart, growing and festering around his beating muscle like poison ivy. His right knee also gets the weird urge to bend down.

“Oh, uhm…,” Dean stumps, which is probably better than proposing on the spot.

“You don’t have to say anythi–”

“Is it mine?”

“Especially that,” Y/N finishes her sentence, mouth agape, her eyebrows drawing together and meeting in the middle – the only possible reaction to a moronic question. “Dean, how-… how could it be yours? We never even… You know that, right?”

Dean runs a palm over his freckled face, barely believing his own stupidity, and squeezes his eyes shut with a pinch of his nose, nodding, “Yeah, yeah, I know… I was just-… never mind.”

As if he needed a damn reminder that he never had sex with her.

“I mean, your kiss was good, but I don’t think you can get women pregnant from it,” she jokes lightheartedly. “Although, as cocky as you are, I can see how you would believe that.”

Dean places his hands on his hips, swaying back and forth on his heels. His mind races, repeating her words over and over. His lips purse before a nervous smile appears, “So… the kiss was good?”

Y/N’s look darkens to an irritated scowl, “Read the room, dude!”

“Right, yeah,” he swallows hard and scratches the scruff on his throat. “So, uhm, the married guy got a shot in?”

Don’t blame him. His social skills end with small talk about the weather. He’s not emotionally equipped for these kinds of conversations.

Folding her arms over her chest, Y/N clicks her tongue and bites the insides of her cheeks in discomfort. “I don’t know. Probably.”

His brow furrows, “Probably?!”

“I-….” She flails her arms helplessly, her pupils wide and gleaming with desperation. “There were two others I was seeing. They all sorta… There was some overlap, okay?”

“Look at you being so slutty,” Dean teases her, broadly smirking. He’s trying to keep the situation light, even though he admittedly feels the jealousy bubbling in his chest. While knowing it’s wrong and misplaced, he can’t help but wish he would’ve gotten a chance with her instead of those three losers. They didn’t even appreciate what treasure, what fucked-up little angel, they held in their filthy palms, or else they’d be here and not him.

“Well, thank you for that,” Y/N mutters with an offended scowl, bitterly tightening the grip of her arms over her chest.

“Wha-… I didn’t mean… I-I was just making a joke, okay? As if I would ever judge you,” Dean frowns. He’s the sluttiest of them all! “Three is nothing. Three is like my weekly ratio.” Nope, that sounds worse. “I mean, it used to be, you know? When I was your age…”

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

Y/N only lets out a long sigh in response, shaking her head at his idiocy before finding his eyes. She prompts, “Ever knocked someone up?”

“Uhm, I-, uh, I’m-,” he splutters and clears his throat a few times, trying to cough up the lump. “Uh, not that I know of, no? I mean, no one ever told me, so… Kinda have that advantage, you know?”

Y/N blows a raspberry, her head in one constant shake at this point. “I really hate your gender,” she tells him then and sounds more defeated than angry.

“Yeah… Yeah, I get that,” Dean admits and rubs his mouth. “So, uh, what are you gonna d–”

“It’s not a big deal, okay? So, let’s not make it one, alright?” Y/N announces.

His head tilts in confusion like a lost puppy’s. “It’s not?”

Y/N hesitates and swallows with a harsh intake of air, eyes stubbornly focusing on her sneakers. “No, it’s not,” she confirms and insecurely meets his gaze. “I-, uhm, I have an appointment tomorrow at ten, so…”

“Oh.”

Honestly, Dean feels nothing but relief, and it’s not because it’s someone else’s goddamn kid. He doesn’t give a shit about that; he would’ve raised that fucker like his own. But he knows the possibility of Y/N quitting the show and disappearing from his life forever is more likely than her playing house with him. The latter was just wishful thinking on his part. The reality is: The show would fall apart without her, and so would he.

“Please don’t try and talk me out of it,” she begs him, a pouty look adorning her features as she roughly bites her lips.

“No, of course not,” Dean quickly assures her and sees her exhale a breath of relief. “I’m fully supporting your choice here, you know? I mean, if I were you, I would’ve already, you know… like yesterday…” God, he really needs to stop blabbering and shut his cakehole. “And you should take the day off tomorrow. No problem. You know what? Take the whole week. You’re perfect, anyways. You’ve trained enough, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I need a whole week,” she says with a smile of amusement. Yeah, Dean would laugh at himself as well if he were her.

“Well, if you want the week, you can have it, okay?” Dean offers her nonetheless. “Ten, right? I’ll drive you. Gonna knock on your door at nine sharp.”

“You don’t have to–”

“No, no, I want to,” he swiftly brushes her concerns away. “You shouldn’t be alone for this, alright? I-… I don’t want you to be alone.”

A grateful smile shapes on her pink lips upon his proposal. It’s cute. “Thank you… Can you just, uhm, not tell anyone? Keep this between us? I haven’t told any of the girls. I don’t want it to get back to, uhm… Jo,” she explains, swallowing nervously.

“Yes, absolutely, sweetheart,” Dean assures her with a firm nod and offers her a warm smile, “This stays right here between us. Just you and me.”

The words inappropriately make his heart flutter – you and me. God, he’s a mess.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, smiling gratefully. She then wraps her arms around his torso and buries her head in his chest, squeezing the oxygen right out of his lungs.

Dear God, his entire body goes rigid. What is this? Is she hugging him? This is a hug, right? What is he supposed to do? Aside from not getting a goddamn boner, of course.

When was the last time he ever genuinely hugged someone? He honestly can’t remember. She’s so warm, and her frame is so small and fits perfectly into his like a matching puzzle piece. Can he hug her back?

He supposes he can and greedily slings his arms around her, one hugging her shoulders and the other hand cupping the back of her head. Then, he even goes one step further and rests his chin on her crown, her lemon coconut shampoo filling his nostrils.

Fuck, this feels fantastic. Can he hug her now all the time? Is this a new development in their friendship? God, he hopes the answer is yes.

“Dean, I-I think you can let go,” she giggles and winds herself out of his embrace.

Oh, he so doesn’t want to but fine. He also doesn’t want to make it weird and risk never receiving these glorious hugs from her again.

“So, uhm, I’ll be here tomorrow at nine, waiting for you, okay?” Dean reassures her for what feels like the millionth time as he slowly kills the engine in the motel parking lot. He’s stalling, doesn’t want her to go just yet.

Y/N smiles softly, “Okay. Thanks, Dean.”

“Dean!” Their heads turn out the windshield, watching Bela rush to the Impala and vividly wave her hands in the air.

Dean sighs deeply and falls back into his seat, wanting to disappear under the floor mat. “Shit… I’m-, I’m gonna break up with her. I’m gonna do it now,” he announces determinedly. If Y/N can master the hardships of life with her head held high, he supposes so can he.

“Uhm, I don’t wanna be here for that, so I’m gonna go, but, uh… good luck. Be nice,” Y/N says and then quickly flees the car, just in time before Bela slides into the passenger’s seat like a game of tag between the women.

Dread immediately spreads through his whole body. He’d rather spend the day with Y/N. They could be at the pier right this minute, waiting for the sunset, waiting for his lips to find hers in the golden glow. Instead, he has to be here and talk to the girlfriend he never wanted. What a waste of a beautiful day. All because that fucking wimp husband couldn’t wear a fucking condom…

It only takes one asshole to ruin the playground for everyone else.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Bela starts with a stern look on her face, all puckered lips and crinkled brow. Oh, how he loves that particular sentence, especially from a woman’s mouth. “I don’t think this is working between us.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna do it for me? Okay.” Honestly, he loves that solution for him. Life is still good sometimes.

“Do what?” Bela’s eyebrows quirk together in question, and he knows he should probably do a better job of hiding his grin.

“Uh… nothing. Please continue, sweetheart,” Dean smiles innocently.

“I just feel like this isn’t working, you know? I don’t think I can do this with you any longer, Dean. You disappear all the time. Donna even thinks she saw you hiding in a bloody locker two days ago, so I’m ending this,” Bela shares her feelings. She looks at him ruefully as if she even has the power or authority to break his plastic heart. He tries not to snort.

“Fantastic,” Dean accidentally lets slip. The fucking coke’s at it again today.

“Fantastic?”

“Yeah, you know,” he nods bravely, trying to remain cool, calm, and collected, “I know you were just fucking me because you wanted shit like-, uhm… a bigger part, or-, uh, or a horse, right? I’ve been around this block before. It’s okay.”

Bela frowns and rolls her eyes, groaning in annoyance. “Dean, I wasn’t shagging you because I want things! You’re so bloody paranoid all the time… I mean, I do want a horse, but that’s not why I was sleeping with you. It’s like I told you after the party – I saw your dating video and thought you were sweet. You’re funny and really, really smart. And handsome and sexy… I really fancied you.”

“Whoa…” Dean’s brow furrows in disbelief while his dick tingles. “Really? You like me?” Well, color him surprised. Maybe he underestimated her a little. Plus, a woman praising him is his goddamn weakness – the cross on his back. Between Y/N hugging him and Bela schmoozing the shit out of him, his blue jeans are getting uncomfortably tight. Fuck, he needs sex right goddamn now.

“Yes,” Bela nods like it’s obvious.

“Okay, can we-, uh, can we just reset, maybe?” Dean suggests with a flirty smile and wiggles his eyebrows, shifting closer to her on the seat.

“Dean!” Bela frowns deeply, shaking her head in irritation. “I’m not some sex robot. You can’t just push a button and reboot me.”

“Look, I’m not good with this stuff. I have a shitty history with women, alright?” Dean bats his eyelashes and shrugs sheepishly, hoping he can smooth things over with the brunette. Just one more time. All he needs is three thrusts max. Promise. “We-, uh, we can go over it if you like, sweetheart. Does that sound like fun, huh?”

“Dean, you don’t actually like me. It won’t work,” Bela rebuffs him and rolls her eyes. He’s just baffled at this point. “Besides, you’re obviously in love with Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, what now?” He’s thoroughly stumped for good, green eyes blinking at her rapidly like the wings of a hummingbird.

“You should tell her. I think she likes you, too,” Bela says her final words, kisses his cheek in a sweet goodbye, and hops out of the Impala, joining a few of the women by the pool.

What the fuck?!

12. The Warrior

Get ready for some really terrible, terrible jokes in the next part. I went all out ‘cause if we’re already here, why the fuck not, right? 😂🤷‍♀️ *throws shit into the fan like it’s confetti*

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @siospins2 @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28 @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansbbyx @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @eevvvaa @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @estelle127

#plastic hearts #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #supernatual fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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moccahobi · 1 year ago

Text

A FAE’S BREW TO TAKE YOU AWAY [CHAPTER 23]

Summery: Photography: Taehyung loves it. Specifically he loves film photography. He even spent an entire day hiking and taking photos in a meadow (there was a woman there at first but she left soon after). For Y/n though, Taehyung’s trip to the meadow was the start of something bad. Something real bad.

Pairings: Taehyung (BTS) x Reader, Yoongi (BTS) x Hoseok (BTS)

Rating: Teens and up

Chapter warnings: injury, character death

Series warnings (I update as I figure more stuff out): horror, injury, threats, character death, major angst, emotional distress, alcohol, verbal fight, anxiety

Word Count: 1.7k words

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fae AU!, College AU!

Tag list: @youarejesting, @i-am-moonchild, @oddinary4bts

Chapter 22 >> Masterlist << Chapter 23

Taehyung watched nervously as Jungkook climbed back up the hill and just passed his line of vision. Even though he couldn’t see Jungkook well, he could hear fragments of a conversation starting to happen, voices loud and angry.

chirp

He jumped at the sound of some strange animal, already too on edge from all that has been happening. Today was such a mess. Y/n moved in his pocket at the strange sounds and when he looked down, he saw her clinging closer to him than before. She must be tired and spooked as well.

“Don’t worry. I will keep you safe and protect you from all that’s happening. How about I find you a place in the woods to hide while all this goes down. No one will see you.” He whispered, hoping that she could hear his sincerity.

chirp

The strange animal sounds grew louder as he neared the forest line. Normally, Taehyung might’ve been curious, but today with all that was happening and the pelting down rain, they struck fear in him. Looking around, he was met with an army of frogs… or toads? One of them and it didn’t matter which. They were so vibrant that they stuck out like a sore thumb and Taehyung found him involuntarily leaning closer to try to get a closer look.

He stopped when he felt frantic movement in his pocket and looked down to see Y/n shaking with fear and trying anything to hide from the frogs. Looking them over again, he wondered if they could eat her.

It was that moment of hesitance, of pondering an intrusive thought, that led to even more chaos breaking loose. In her frantic movement, she somehow managed to only rise in Taehyung’s pocket before eventually falling out, a piercing ringing (similar to tinnitus) leaving her small body all through the fall. As if the frogs were waiting for this, they lunged and she ran farther away, leaving Taehyung scrambling after her and the frogs, mud clinging to him while doing so. Yet, despite their size, they were so much faster than Taehyung and he was forced to watch as they got dangerously close to the swelling river. Y/n’s body shook with each harsh gust of wind, Taehyung wincing each time. A particularly harsh gust of wind in combination with a big curtain of rain and she was gone, the river now much larger.

Taehyung’s body froze as his mind raced to try to figure out what had happened. The frogs. The river.

Had they eaten her?

Did the river sweep her away?

Was she still alive?

At some point in his frozeness, the frogs returned and were jumping on him, their slimy bodies rubbing against Taehyung. Their tongues lolled out and were lapping at his pants as well.

Were they trying to attack him?

An angry chuckle left him at that. They’d possibly just eaten Y/n and now they were trying to eat him!?

He shook one off, cringing as they bounced against the ground and started hopping towards him again.

The toads start trying to attack Taehyung with their tongues but that doesn't do much… it itches a little but doesn’t do much. If it wasn’t for the horror of this situation, he just might’ve laughed at a frog licking him and thinking it’ll hurt him. Not as he starts hearing some loud pitched squeal. Not as Hoseok’s voice starts rising above the storm. Not when Y/n is missing and potentially drowning.

Something in the woods flickered bright red.

It sounded like the squeal was coming from that direction.

Taehyung staggered back as the bright red thing flew at him fast and hit him squarely between the eyes. It was definitely the squealing thing he heard and this close to it, the squeals sounded more like tiny screams.

“Screw you!”

“You’re one of the humans who…”

“My Y/n!”

He was able to pick up some of what the screams were saying but couldn’t pay attention to any of them as he tried to dodge the flaming ball of speed and energy that kept bumping into him harshly and the frogs that were still trying to jump on him as well. His legs were shaking and he stumbled many times as he tried to dodge the tiny beings attacking him.

Only… his legs weren’t keeping him up well.

One small misstep into some animal’s abandoned home and he found himself plummeting, searing pain ripping through his body as a scream ripped its way through his body. He couldn’t get up or move his foot. He was stuck and in some of the worst pain of his life.

Next thing he knew though, the only sensation he could still feel was the harsh wind and rain, no flaming red ball or frogs and in the change, he found himself sinking to the floor, tears flowing.

“Are you… ok?”

Taehyung’s head shot up and took in one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen before. Kind eyes, soft mouth, broad shoulders. He looked sad and worried and Taehyung had no energy to question it.

“I… I… Yes? I don’t know. I… I’m stuck. Can you help me up?”

The man nodded, crouching down and helping him up.

Taehyung came up easily with his help.

And his foot wasn’t stuck.

It had swollen to an angry red blistery color, blood seeping from an open wound… and worse of all, Taehyung saw white.

Bone.

If possible, Taehyung might’ve cried more then but he didn’t have it in him. He didn’t have any energy in him and it seemed the mysterious man didn’t either for after helping Taehyung out of the hole, he set Taehyung down. The man seemed skilled in triage though as he went about gathering materials to cover and support Taehyung’s foot. As he did that, Taehyung looked around and was faced with a fae lying on the ground and unconscious (Taehyung didn’t want to think of the possibility of them being dead). They had scorch marks on their body but overall, looked like they might have been sleeping right now and Taehyung didn’t want to think otherwise.

He had propped himself up on the ground to try to reduce his contact with the muddy ground around him but as the mysterious man elevated and worked on Taehyung’s ankle, all energy seeped out of Taehyung. He rested on the ground and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of louder and louder arguments, angry rain and wind, and the man working. The mud seeped into his shirt and hair, filling every possible crevice it could but Taehyung couldn’t bring himself to care.

#bts fanfic #wkcnet #bts fan fic #bts fan fiction #bts fanfiction #bts taehyung x reader #bts v x reader #bts angst #bts supernatural au #bts fairy au #bts fae au #bts fluff #taehyung x reader #v x reader #taehyung supernatual au #bts taehyung supernatural au #bts taehyung angst

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moonlight-rider25 · 1 year ago

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Winchester Girl Chapter 5

Previously on Winchester Girl

“We love you guys..” You call faintly to them both.

Sam stops and smiles back towards you as he closes the door and you allow a huge long awaited breath to escape you. At that moment, you made a decision. You figured at the time, it was what was best for everyone.

“Well, Finley…I guess we should start packing as well…”

New York, present day.

You hear Dean's alarm buzzing on the side table next to him and roll over. He seems to be snoozing peacefully through it; you try to flatten the thin pillows over your head. Finally, it gives up and you settle back into your spot and doze back off to sleep. Only to be awoken 9 mins later by the buzzing again.

"God damnit!" You curse under your breath.

You roll over again and crawl over on top of Dean, angrily hitting the dismiss button on the screen and he finally begins to stir. His hand comes up from behind you gazing across your ass and up to your waist. You try to pry yourself from his grip but he moves with you as you lay face to face on your sides.

"Look if you wanted some more action, all you had to do was say so…" He grumbles in a low voice.

“Oh, get bent!” you tell him with a smirk as you feel him release you, and you flip back over facing away from him.

You feel the redness crawling up on your face and bury it deep within your thin, all-but-useless pillows. You breathe in the cheap laundry detergent smell and try desperately to suppress the thoughts racing through your head…

Regardless, you know he only had a few short hours of sleep and you allow some time to pass for him to settle back to sleep before you carefully remove yourself and walk to the bathroom. After washing your hands and peering in the mirror seeing the disheveled hair due you have; slicking it back with a hair tie, you quietly make your way back out to the main room where you assume you'll hear Dean snoring. You carefully tuck yourself back into bed, hopeful for a few more undisturbed hours of rest. You grab your phone and peer at the screen making sure you have no missed calls or text messages from Sam. You set it back down quietly on your night stand and pull the covers up, feeling Dean move beside you.

You freeze trying not to disturb him and feel his arm creep up under the covers again. This time though they don't fondle you, they just pull you closer towards him. You suck in quick shallow breath as you try to register whether or not he's awake behind you, or still in a sleep ridden daze.

"..Dean?" You ask in a whisper.

"Hmmm.." He hums, locking his arms around you tighter.

"..Are you.."

"Hard?, Yeah sorry…you uhh, wanna lend a hand with that?" He says through his groggy morning voice.

You scoff and push yourself away from him but he locks his arm down around you tighter.

"I'm just kidding, Y/N, God!" He says less groggy now. "Even if I were, I have a little more self control than that. I mean come on, I lived with you, for what… like a year and half…"

His voice trails off as you freeze yet again taking in his words while trying to free yourself from him.

Disregarding all the alarms in your head, and all the times you sat and suffered through fighting back every urge inside you to be this close to him; you allow the wall you've built up inside you for some time, to come tumbling down.

Cautiously, you roll over and face him; his eyes remain shut as you stare up at his face. The stubble that's beginning to grow in along his jaw and mouth. His perky little pink lips pursed as he breathes comfortably laying in bed next to you. His hair barely ruffled from sleeping on it wet all night. You have to resist the urge to reach up and trace your hand up along his pronounced jaw line and rest your fingers between his plump little pink lips.

"Dean!" You say again in a louder whisper this time.

His amazing green eyes pop open seeing you; and he smiles, before allowing his eyes to flutter back shut and pull you even closer towards him.

You press your face against his huge strong chest and take a deep breath in smelling him. His scent fills your lungs and you exhale slowly before taking another deep breath allowing his warm earthy aroma to fill you again.

(How the fuck do you smell so good?) You think to yourself.

You feel him move a bit and twist over onto his back beside you. It takes everything in you not to pull him back and keep him there longer.

Dean reaches his arms out in a stretch and rubs at his eyes for a moment with a long yawn. You inch back away from him and lay against your pillows watching him through squinted eyes. He finally sits up and looks over to you for a moment before patting your side through the blankets. He then tosses the covers from his huge strong body with a faint grunt and gets up heading towards the bathroom. You wait to hear the ‘click; of the door latch and grab his pillow from his spot burying your face deep within it, breathing in his sweet scent yet again.

You grunt a bit into the pillow with a final breath before tossing it aside, you roll over in your spot and sit on the edge of the bed grabbing your phone and seeing its 6:19am. You open it up and check they’re still no messages from Sam, and assume he and Finn may still be asleep…seeing as he probably did not put Finn to bed at 8 like you asked…

Dean walks out from the bathroom, fully dressed and you turn towards him with a seductive smile. You lean back on the bed eyeing him, watching the smirk creep up across his face.

“Come on, momma. Get dressed, we gotta hit the road..” He says in his low ‘Dean’ tone.

You groan dramatically, face planting against the bed and lay there for a moment longer before finally getting up and heading to get dressed in the bathroom.

~~~~

"Man, I can't wait to sleep in my own bed.." you say aloud to no one in particular.

Dean stares ahead at the road.

"I bet.." He replies coldly.

He pulls into a rustic country looking gas station and you follow after him. He heads towards the piping hot roasting oven filled with breakfast sandwiches. You grab two extra large sized coffee cups and fill them to the brim, before making your way to the counter. He hands his stolen card over across the counter to the lady behind the register, and you bite back your lip spying the many brands of cigarettes behind her. You grab the meal Dean paid for and follow him out still dying for a cigarette.

"Dean, I'm gonna hit the ladies room before we go…I'll be right out."

Dean nods heading out towards 'baby' and you duck back into the store and up to the counter again. The lady eyes you suspiciously and you quickly set your gas station breakfast on the counter and pull out your card.

"One pack of red L&M regulars…" you ask through a shameful smile.

~~~~

Back outside you spot Dean sitting in the driver's seat enjoying the last bites of his breakfast sandwich as you slide in next to him. He shoves the key in the ignition and begins back towards the road. The only noise filling the air is your sandwich's foil wrapper, crinkling as you unfold it. Dean stares ahead towards the road and sips his coffee, you reach over after a few long awkwardly silent minutes and turn the music up. 'Behind blue eyes' begins to sound over the speakers filling the uncomfortable quietness, and you sit back enjoying your sandwich a bit easier.

'But my dreams, they aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be…'

You take a sip of the piping hot day old coffee to wash down the sandwich.

'No one knows what it's like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

And I blame you…'

After finishing up your sandwich and feeling not so great about what you just put into your body, you pull out your phone and decide to text Sam to let him know you’re headed home and should be there sometime tonight. The little notification icon at the top of the screen pings and you open and read a text message from your neighbor, Ann.

You’ve known Ann for a while, a married mom of three who was very good at overstaying her welcome, but you allowed it, seeing as she was always lending a hand when you needed it, with Finn. She was nice enough company and even on occasion you had enjoyed drinks with her beside her pool while Finn played with her kids; two daughters that were close to him in age, and an older boy who clearly was a spitting image of his father.

'Who's the house guest?'

You smile to yourself a bit and realize soon enough you'll be the talk of the town with Sam staying and watching Finn…

'Old family friend…Had some other family stuff come up, I’ll be home tonight.'

(A believable lie, though you hope she doesn't dig too deeply into it…)

Your phone dings again, almost immediately after sending the message.

'Oh, no! Is everything okay?

…Damn, so no new bf gossip I can get from you then..?'

You roll your eyes, playing off what you can.

'Nope, we’re fine now… and sorry, nothing like that lol'

(New boyfriend gossip, no. Old boyfriend gossip, well that's another story.)

'What a shame, I was hoping to hear all about his cute little biteable ass..👅'

You peer down at your phone screen smirking to yourself when you hear Dean's deep voice boom from beside you.

"Ah shit!"

You close the phone, completely forgetting to text Sam, and look over to Dean.

"...I think I missed our exit back there. Can you grab the map in the back and see if we can take this next…"

Dean's voice trails off as you reach in the back searching through cassette tapes, napkins, receipts, bags of who knows what, and a few half empty water bottles for the road maps. You open one up and spread it across the seat for him to look at while typing in your address to pull up the Google maps info.

The automated voice on your phone begins barking directions and Dean glares at you.

"Look, you know I don't know how to read those damn things… this will tell you the best route even when you take a wrong turn…"

"I don't need that garbage. Turn it off!" He huffs angry.

You turn the volume all the way down and peer at the illuminated screen showing you to make a U turn in the middle of the highway.

(Well that's not gonna happen…)

"You can text your boyfriend later, could you please tell me what exit I can take?"

You peer down at the paper map between you and Dean with complete and utter dismay.

"Dean, I don't even know where we are here!"

"Goddamn it, just give me it…"

Dean snatches the map, wrinkling it a bit and after trying to focus on the road and the map, tosses it in the back again before taking the next exit. He whips the car into the nearest parking lot and parks it before grabbing the map again and figuring out where to go.

"Thanks for the help, co-pilot." He says in a gruff tone.

"Sorry! I didn't grow up reading these things like you and Sam did, I have no idea what I'm looking for!" You tell him defensively.

"It's a damn map, Y/N. Pretty self explanatory.."

“Yeah, and so are feelings and attitudes, yet here we are!” You yell a bit harsher than you intended.

Dean scoffs, staring intently at the map.

“...And that's supposed to mean what, exactly?...”

“What the hell is your problem, Dean? You were fine like two hours ago, now all of a sudden you've got some sort of vendetta out for me? What the hell did I do?!” You ask shrilly.

He stares at you through glaring eyes. You patiently await his answer…with no luck.

“Just forget it…I don’t care..” You tell him agitatedly, opening the door and plucking the new pack of cigarettes from your purse.

You slam the door behind you and lean heavily against the car, packing the new pack of cigarettes against your palm before plucking one and slipping it hastily between your lips. You fish around in your purse looking for a lighter and hear the driver's door open and slam shut again.

“What the hell, Y/N! You promised you were done with that shit!” Dean calls walking around the hood of the impala.

“I’ve made a lot of promises in my life, Dean!…” You yell back through your gritted teeth.

“Yeah, well in this family, we don’t break promises!” He yells at you.

“Oh, don’t start getting all high and mighty up there on me. You know just as well as I do the countless promises you’ve broken!” You light your cigarette and blow the thick cloud of smoke into his direction as he grimaces and stares daggers back towards you.

“Not like you’re making it very easy to quit, either!” You say through a long drag. “...Typical Dean just shutting everyone out and off!”

You take another long puff as Dean's cold look breaks for a moment. He plucks the cigarette from your lips and flicks it off into the distance.

“What the hell Dean!” You cry, staring shocked at him.

“Don’t start with that crap, Y/N, God..” He screams, turning away for a moment with his hands firmly on his hips.

“You think this is easy for me…think I like showing up at your doorstep, forced to watch you and Sam have your sweet little romantic moments with each other?!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You yell glaring up towards him.

“Oh please!” he says, still loudly, but gentler now. “You and I both know you still love him! And you’re not stupid, you know he still loves you!” He spits angrily towards you.

“I never said I stopped loving him, Dean! But Jesus Christ, I never stopped loving you either!”

You bite back your lip and swallow hard when you realize what you’ve said. Dean scoffs dramatically and turns back away from you, kicking at the ground as he does.

“Don’t humor me Y/N…”

“Fuck you Dean! …You think I meant that to let that slip out!?” You shake a bit with anger, yelling towards his back. "I’m not even the same person Sam fell in love with all those years ago! Hell, neither is he, but I still love you both, regardless of all the time apart!”

Dean slowly turns back a bit, crossing his arms disapprovingly, eyeing you through squints.

“...Since when?” He asks loudly but not in a yell.

“Since…I don’t know, forever!”

“...And you just never thought to ever mention anything of that?” He asks, still staring intently through his squinted disapproving look.

“To tell you what, Dean? Huh? That I loved you, just as much as your brother?!” Your voice begins to grow hoarse from yelling so much.

You throw your purse to the ground and inch closer towards him, screaming up at his pouting face.

“...Tell you about the countless nights I laid wrapped in Sam’s arms, I'd often secretly wish they were yours! Or that when he'd roll me over in the middle of the night, more times than not I was hoping it was your face I'd see, and not Sam’s?! Hell, I didn’t even think you looked at me that way till the day you met me in the shower!”

“Then why the hell did you leave?!” He booms from above you.

“Leave?!” You scream up towards him. “You really think I wanted to go home and watch as it took her three months to slowly die beside me?”

“No, not back then, …with Finn!” He booms with an apologetic look on his face.

“...Because even then, I figured it was just a weak moment of lust, and not that you actually had feelings for me!” You tell him breathless, your throat strained from yelling so much.

“What do you want me to say here, Dean?” You ask, dropping your hands by your thighs. “That I love you? That I’ve always loved you? That I’m sorry I couldn’t read your mind, and tell you sooner?” Your voice cracking a bit as you speak.

Dean's eyes glimmer a bit as he peers down to you and brushes your hair behind your ear. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest and your eyes growing blurry with the tears building in them.

You sniffle and swat his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” You say angrily.

“Why?” He asks loudly, backing you against the car.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You say shoving him away.

He stands staring at you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“Alright!” he yells, “I'm not!”

You smack him in the chest before pushing him away a few more times unsuccessfully.

“Asshole!” You scream. “Fuck you!”

You smack him one more time before gripping onto his shirt and pulling him down towards yours.

He engulfs your mouth in his and you pant against him as he backs you carefully against the car again.

You wrap your arms around his neck and eagerly suck at his tongue dancing around your mouth. His hands slide up along your hips beneath your thin leather jacket and you pull him towards you more. He leans heavily against you, pinning you between his huge muscular safe body and the car. You moan against him while he digs his huge weathered fingertips into your waist. You grip a fist of his hair and pull his head back, watching him lick his lips through lust filled eyes as he peers back down at you.

“Please, don’t make me stop..” He grunts in a low whisper.

“...I’m not..I just…” You release your hand from his hair and eagerly await his mouth on yours again with a heavy moan. “...Still fuck you!” You whine in a moan against him.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck me, …I’m an asshole I know…” He says seductively trailing hot wet kisses down your neck.

You groan pushing him away a bit again, and he slams his hand against the side of the impala.

“Fuck you!” You say, holding yourself up against him.

“Yeah..I really wish you would..” he says through a devilish smile.

“Shut, uppp!” You giggle through a sniffle.

His huge hand reaches up and caresses the faint tear streak from your cheek, he presses his big soft lips against yours a final time, then presses his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Think we got time for a quickie?” He says coyly tapping the back window of the Impala.

You laugh wholeheartedly with your eyes closed, as you lean against him.

“Mmm, sorry, you missed your chance this morning..” You tell him through a grin.

“This morning?...” he asks, raising a brow, “Wake and lay, atta girl ..I’ll have to remember that..” He says pulling gently at the waist of your jeans. You caress your hand down the side of his face, feeling the slight bit of stubble growing in along his jaw and gently graze your thumb across his bottom lip.

“So…You’re really gonna get me all worked up and leave me hanging?” He asks with a smirk.

“Shuut, upp!” You say again pushing him away playfully with a loud giggle.

“Alright…alright!... Rain check?…” he says backing up and opening your door for you.

You slide in and grab your purse from the ground before peering back up towards him.

“Rain check..” You tell him through a flirtatious smile.

You reach for the door and he grunts a bit, stopping you.

“..Just uh,...give me a sec..” he says adjusting his jeans.

You cackle loudly as he swings the door closed and carefully walks around the front of ‘baby’, still adjusting the front of his jeans. He carefully leans in towards the driver's seat, and shoves the key in the ignition, the loud rumble of the car beginning to fill the air.

“Bratt..” He mumbles as he shifts the car into drive.

You let another loud cackle spill from your lips and playfully smack him in the chest as he turns around to back out of the parking spot.

~~~~

Back on the road, in the right direction this time; Dean picks back up on the conversation from earlier.

“So, what are we gonna tell Sammy?...”

He asks, peering over at you with a suspicious look.

“About what?” You reply quietly, knowing all too well exactly what he's referring to.

“..You know..us?” He says looking back from you to the road.

You whip your head around towards him and allow a heavy exhale to leave your mouth.

“And what exactly would you call ‘us’, Dean?”

He meets your eye for a second with a bewildered brow raise, before looking back towards the road, unsure of what to say.

“Exactly.” you tell him, turning back to face the road beside him.

“There was never any ‘us’ with Sam, there's no ‘us’ between you and I..”

“Hey! Come on! That's not true!” He says defensively.

“Dean, come on, who are we kidding?... You have your lives, I have mine, and frankly I don’t see the two of them merging anytime soon, do you?” You ask frankly, in a level tone.

Dean sighs and digs his thumb nail into the steering wheel.

“I’m just saying..” You add trying to lighten the blow.

“No I see what you’re saying..” he huffs through a sigh. “You know, I really actually do care about you Y/N…” He says softer this time meeting your look. “...I always have…”

“...I know.. But… enough to quit hunting?” You ask faintly, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “Don’t answer that…”

You tell him, peering out your side window with a heavy sigh, avoiding the knowing look Dean probably has for you right now.

(I already know the answer.)

You knew how it sounded, and you knew from his silence he also knew you were right. Dean and Sam dedicated themselves to hunting, you dedicated yourself to taking care of Finn. There was no way the two would ever merge together, especially seeing as Finn didn't have any idea about any of it. Hunting monsters; things that most people had no idea were really out there. It was the huge responsibility that both the brothers decided to take on; that you also had considered doing alongside them. But, a lot had changed since then, and you realized no matter how much you wanted to be next to them in line of battle, up against creatures of nightmares; Finn needed a parent who could provide a safe stable home for him. He was your choice, just as hunting was Sam and Dean’s…

~~~~

The bunker, 7 years earlier.

You sit on the couch watching Steve Harvey, a guilty pleasure of yours, eating cereal in one of Sam's oversized tee shirts. You hear the bunker's door screech open from above; Sam and Dean returning from a quick supply run, and Sam greets you with a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Hey, babe!” You call through a mouthful of frosted flakes.

“Ah, Steeve! I’ll be right in…” He trails off heading back towards the door.

You look back to the tv screen watching Steve address the live crowd and his ridiculous dating advice he's giving someone; when your phone rings.

You place your bowl on the coffee table and reach for the vibrating phone, reading your nana's name across the screen.

“Hey nannie!” You say joyfully still swallowing the mouthful of cereal down.

The voice on the other end of the line isn't nana, and you sit still in fear as you listen to the words your mom speaks to you over the line.

“...Nana’s.. she's had a stroke. The Doctors are asking everyone to come say their final goodbyes…”

Your heart drops into your stomach as you sit and stare blankly at Steve cracking jokes on the screen.

It takes you a while to process what you've just heard, even after hanging up the phone and sitting uncomfortably perched on the end of the couch. Nana; the lady that raised you in your careless mothers absence, the lady who taught you almost everything you knew, cooking, sewing, manners; all of it. You recall not having seen her for almost a year, as you were staying with Sam but you kept in touch almost daily over the phone. The lump welling up in your throat as you sat thinking about the way she used to hold your hand between the two of hers and tell you,

“You are my light in this dark, scary world Y/N…”

Where was her light now, when she needed you, in her dark scary time?

You wipe back your tears as Sam jumps over the back of the couch beside you pulling you towards him as you stare up at him with the wetness glistening in your eyes.

“Y/N, what's wrong?!” He asks, concerned.

“I gotta go home..” You whine through your squeaky sob filled voice.

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echoe-back-from-the-void · 11 months ago

Text

Crowley X Male Reader ~pt3

| 1 | 2 | three | 4 |

I pulled back from the hug to smile down at my brother, Gabriel. "Thank you." I said in a choked voice.

"Always." Gabriel says just as emotionally.

I pat his hair as I try to calm not only myself but him as well. I meet his eyes with certainty as I rebuild my resolve. I show the ring to him, "if anyone will lock our brother away, it will be me, not the Winchesters. I swear to you I will fix this. I was absent the last time, but this time, nothing will take my attention away from our brothers. If I have to drag them by the ear I will. If I have to chain him to me I will, however long it takes." I spill the words as fast as I think them. "Our fighting will end."

Gabriel snorts a laugh before hugging me again. "You'd really drag luci by the ear?" He says laughingly.

"I will." I say bluntly letting the necklace drop to my chest.

It had barely been a day before I was being prayed to by the Winchesters. My feathers felt ruffled as I was reminded of the oldest Winchester, what I said may have been done out of anger but it was no less true. He has no right to judge my brothers while ignoring the sins of his own brother. I left the woods in a huff as I flew to them.

I landed in the somber motel room. Sam was giving his brother worried looks from the motel table. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, a bottle beside his feet.

"Winchesters." I said bitingly making both of them jump at my entrance.

Before Dean could open his mouth to start a fight, Sam but in. "Thank you for coming mars." Sam said cordially.

"Being polite will not earn you his ring." I said under my breath but audible for both to hear. The tv began turning static as my annoyance became apparent. "I want the other rings, if anyone will put my brother away it will be my choice."

Dean jumped up to argue. "Hell no!"

"Dean." Sam said trying to calm his brother.

"No Sammy, this dick bag Angel is just gonna take the rings and let Lucifer walk free." Dean argued as he stood up clutching the bottle.

I could feel my grace warning me of my impending anger. "Winchester, I have already leveled one battle field today and cleared every monster from this state, do not anger me further or you will be the reason I kill more." I said darkly as my eyes began to glow with grace. "I meant what I said. Lucifer will never walk free as long as I live. But Michael is no saint either. Both will be dealt with by my hand. They fear me more than that cage."

"Then why didn't you deal with them earlier?!" Dean asked in aggravation.

"There comes a time for every fight, I will fight on my time, on my terms. If I have to leash them to me I will." Then thoughtfully I added. "If I were to attack one then the other would go into hiding. It is best if I see them both. That time has not presented itself yet."

"The time had in fact presented itself no more than a week later," a very sarcastic narrator announces.

It was the great big showdown as they said. Lucifer had possessed some man while Michal had possessed the Winchester half brother Adam. They met in a graveyard and before any words could be thrown I walked between them both with precision and speed beyond their comprehension as I wrapped my hand around their throats. They hadn't even noticed me before that as I had watched them both arrive in full dramatics.

Lucifer's eyes widened in fear while Michael was a little slower on the uptake. When he did catch on he began to shake like Lucifer did.

Loud rock music began to play as Dean Winchester drove the impala up the stretch of road to the cemetery. I bit down a snarl but from the way both my brothers flinched they could probably feel my grace lighting up in anger. I didn't release my brothers nor did I let up my grip while I watched the oldest Winchester exit the car and proceed to lean against the hood.

"Why are you here?" I said my words bordering on enochian as the Winchester holds his head in pain.

Sam exits the car next and approaches with his hands raised in defense. "I tried to stop him from coming but he wouldn't listen. He wants to see you put Lucifer way. To see you end the apocalypse." Sam says placatingly.

"You filthy!" I hiss. "My brothers are my problem and they will be dealt with. Their punishments are not some spectacle for you to use against them. Leave with your lives or die, that is your only warning Winchester."

"Dean. He's not joking. You see him and Lucifer and Michael. Mars knows what he's doing."

"Final warning Winchester. I'm only letting you leave with your life because for a short time we did hold a friendship until you betrayed it."

Dean sighs and enters the impala. His eyes flash between annoyance and anger before Sam persuaded him to leave. When the impala is out of sight I turn back to my brothers. While they both are still fearful they have not said a word.

Gently I release my grip on their throats and set them both back on the ground, not realizing I had lifted them in the first place. "You will Not Move from this ground until the problems are dealt with. There will be no war and there will be no apocalypse, am I clear?" I demand.

"Yes." Michael says.

"Crystal." Lucifer parrots.

My hand that was on their throats moves to their shoulders as I grip them both tightly. "I am sorry for neglecting you both. I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop your first fight. Apologies will never take back what happened but I'm trying. I knew what was happening but I was forbidden to step in. And I'll never regret anything more than the fact that I let this happen." I breathe deeply as the crack in my chest begins to grow and with it the pain follows. "Michael as the second oldest you knew what you did was wrong. Your brother was in pain! He was wounded and biting at anything that moves and you didn't care. Amara is gods sister, she is darkness, but one cannot exist without the other so they sealed her away just like you did Lucifer. Did you even know Lucifer put her away. That he struggled and fought tooth and nail to survive but the mark of Cain took its toll and corrupted him. But instead of helping you turned your back on someone, your brother, who needed you." Michael flinches at the cutting blow. "It may be hard to understand the feelings and emotions we feel but we all have always loved you. Lucifer wasn't trying to disregard fathers creations." I sigh.

"Michael, I want you back in heaven. End this revolution! No more bloodshed among brothers. There will be no apocalypse, we can not simply fix earth by bombing it. Do either of you understand the troubles you would bring about if you decimated earth. The gods, Greek, pagan, Norse and Egyptian would riot with a fury that heaven could not withstand. Please return to heaven and if I see the revolutions are not dealt with peacefully I will return home to deal with them myself." I demand and Michael nods before leaving in a flap of wings.

Not a second passes before Lucifer throws himself at me in a tight hug. "M/n" Lucifer croaked on the edge of tears.

"My you've grown." The ache pains me again and I bite my tongue to not collapse. "You were so young and I could never fault you. Yes you have done bad things. Some outside your own control. I see your pain, I know your suffering and it does not make me love you any less, brother. You have been so strong. You have fought so hard and I have seen it. I know I was absent. I know."

"I'm here. I won't let you go this time." I pause and lightheartedly begin to joke. "Although I should apologize. I had to kill one of your princes." Lucifer pulls back with a questioning look. "Loki sold Gabriel out after your little showdown. Sold him to the highest bidder and that was...Asmodeus. I felt Gabriels discomfort and stormed the place. He was feeding off our brother like a junkie. I may have taken too much pleasure in the princes departure." I joke and Lucifer smiles.

"I never did like him." He jokes back. He pauses and becomes somber. "My punishment?"

"You will be by my side for the next decade at least. Chained or not is your choice. But I will get you the help you need and you will no longer feel that ache. You won't fight your darkness alone. Not anymore."

A strong smell of sulfur invades my nose and I turn expectantly to see Crowley. "Crow." I greet.

He grins and I feel that strange feeling again. Maybe I'm Ill.

"Mars." He greets. His accent as usual draws out the ar sound. He then gives a reluctant bow to Lucifer.

"Crowley. Lucifer, while free, will be absent from hell for a time. I ask that you begin your campaigning. If possible I'd like monthly updates on news downstairs and that you do your best as the king of hell for a time. If circumstances arise you may become a semi permanent ruler if my brother does not want to take his throne." I give him a small smile. "I wish you luck toward being the next king of hell."

Crowley becomes thoughtful before a devils smile develops. "And what if I wanted someone to rule by my side."

"Two rulers is not uncommon among the humans. I don't see why anyone should stop you." I answer.

In the background Lucifer rolls his eyes before hanging off mars and whining.

"Quiet, brother. Crowley was speaking." I admonish Lucifer making him pout. I don't think I've ever seen him do that and I feel the urge to do something I've seen Dean do to same on similar occasions. Unwillingly I raise my fingers and lightly pinch Lucifer's cheek. "Don't be bratty." I then turn back to Crowley and address him again, the slight redness of his face is lost entirely on me. "As I said, you're welcome to have someone rule beside you if you can also get opinions from your closest demons. Pick someone who wouldn't try to usurp your power, your running for king. Take Asmodeus for example, he attacked an archangel for more power, you can safely assume he was disposed of. Am I making sense?"

"Crystal." Crowley says with a resigned sigh.

"Is something else the matter? You're usually much more—chipper?" I ask in concern.

Crowley eyes Lucifer from behind me before coughing and stepping closer. "I was hoping that you might perchance spend an evening with me... to go over plans for my campaign." He finishes the last bit rushed.

"I don't see why not, Lucifer will have to remain in the vicinity while I watch him." I tilt my head slightly. "I hope these talks won't involve the older Winchester or any Winchester for that matter, I understand there is some...truce between your two parties but I want no place in it while I take on the responsibility of setting heaven straight."

"Obviously, I'll pick you up at 8, wear something snazzy." The demon says before leaving quickly.

I turn to Lucifer with confusion, "snazzy? Why, I haven't heard that term in at least a few decades. I think the last time I was considered snazzy was when I had my hair longer than a buzz cut." For emphasis I try to measure how long my hair actually is and it's only a few centimeters longer than the original cut. With focus the hair begins to grow until at least an inch or two long. Making it flop charmingly.

I check myself over in a procured mirror. Adjusting it to my desires. Lucifer pokes his head over my shoulder in the mirror. "Where will I be stationed?"

"Near me, you will be joining us at the restaurant but you shouldn't be at the table in case this is a business deal or he plans to introduce me to his secondary ruler. You've mucked enough up as is. Starting forward I'd like heaven and hell to have good relations." With another snap, me and Lucifer move to my human home to discuss things in more depth.

When Crowley appears again both me and Lucifer have fully changed for whatever the occasion may be. Crowley holds the crook of his arm out like he had done each time he has teleported. With practiced ease I slip my hand over his. In a blink we are in front of a nice restaurant. Crowley asks for his reservation and then we are seated. Lucifer somewhere within eyesight of our table.

Within seconds of sitting down a waitress approaches with menus and asks for our drink orders. Crowley takes the lead in ordering a dark wine with a pomegranate undertone. I tip my head at the choice while keeping an eye out for any other guests. I'm curious who he would choose for a second ruler. If he could subdue Abadon she would make a good secondary leader. Even Cain would be a good candidate if Crowley could convince him to come out of hiding. There's also Alastair, while I don't appreciate torture it can be the easiest way to get anything. Even the threat of torture can bend knees. I continue to think thoughtfully while perusing the menu.

"Do you have any preferences? I come here often so I may be of help." Crowley offers and I nod folding my menu back up to look at him.

"I am curious who you would recommend as your secondary ruler. I've considered multiple possibilities but..."

"But?"

"Well of all those I considered, no one has been introduced yet. So maybe it's someone you think I wouldn't approve of. But that's absurd. I trust your judgement whole heartedly."

Crowley coughs into his wine and uses his napkins to cover his mouth. The tips of his ears turning red making me tilt my head in confusions.

"Are you well?" I asks sympathetically.

"I'm fine." He barks.

"I see." I respond. "You should know that Lucifer is glaring at you for some reason." At that moment the waitress arrives to take our order and refill the wine.

"It's so lovely to see a father and son having a wonderful meal. Most sons can't even give their fathers the time of day after they leave the house." The waitress admits. In the background Lucifer begins to cackle much to my confusion.

I could See Crowley revving up for a freak out. "We're not father and son! He's my bloody date for crying out loud! Damned seven hells!!" He shouts in aggravation as he still coughs.

"Oh, I, I'll be back with the second course." The waiter says sheepishly and backs up nearly tripping into another table.

I feel a warmth in my face that I don't understand, "this was a date? I hadn't even realized you were persuing me. Not that I don't mind, your charming, and polite, easy to talk to, with a particular handsome smile. But..."

Crowley opens his mouth but pauses before moving his hand forward to take my own. "I was hoping to express my affection more appropriately. I had been feeling this way for a while and at first I didn't understand if you knew or not. Gabriel had cleared up some misunderstandings."

I raise my eyebrow, "what misunderstandings? You're persuing me and I appreciate your companionship. What more is there to be?"

"Then you're denser than a ship anchor. I've been bloody following you since the beginning. And then you kept giving me gifts and... well I thought you knew." He simmers into a pout. I don't think I've seen that expression on him before. Maybe once or twice I've seen it on my soldiers as they try to puppy eye their way out of chores.

I let my forefinger hover over his lips. His face is getting red again and gently I thumb the corner of his lips. "Don't pout so hard or your face will get stuck that way." I give a wry grin, my lips barely lifting but my eyes showcase most of my smile. "I think, If I knew how, I would've been able to be more affectionate." I huff and my smile becomes softer, more real. "So, will we peruse this?"

"As long as you'll have me?"

I twist our hands and link our fingers. "I don't mind."

#supernatural fluff #crowley #fluff #crowley x reader #fergus macleod #romance #supernatual

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blacktithe7 · 8 months ago

Text

I look forward to reading this one. It looks like there is a lot of potential here.

The Guest House - Prologue

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 2,225

A/N: Welcome to the start of The Guest House! This little bitty came to me while I was staying at a lake house and relaxing, so really excited to dive in.

Chapters will be posted weekly on Wednesdays.

If you would like to be tagged in the series, just leave a comment or shoot me a message and I'll get you added.

Enjoy!

You dig your nails into your fingertips as they sit in your lap underneath the table. Your heart was finally leveling off as your review was coming to an end. So far your marks had been glowing; your metrics were up, your peer reviews were stellar, all that was left was to hear if they would be promoting you.

You’ve been working for that next step for a year and a half now. After most of your team quit, you took the opportunity to show your bosses that you could run the department with a can-do attitude and hard work. You’ve brought up a promotion a few times at your check-ins with your boss, and she assured you it would be a topic of conversation at your next review, which would be ending in the next few minutes.

With a polite smile, you look across the table at your direct manager and her boss.

“Any questions?” Your boss asks plainly, and your brow furrows as you look between them. If you didn’t know any better, it sounded like they were wrapping up the meeting.

Your lips fall apart and your heart jumps into your throat as you realize what’s about to happen.

“Uh,” you start as you squeeze your fists together. “I was hoping to discuss my possible promotion.” You loosen your smile as you try to keep your eye contact divided between both of them.

The two share a small look.

You’re not getting promoted. Is what that looks says.

Your boss’ boss clears his throat as he readjusts in his seat.

“After reviewing your performance, we do not feel a promotion is appropriate at this time.” He says with a tinge of forced sorrow.

Your stomach plummets as your jaw clenches.

How could they not be promoting you? You’ve been working the job of at least three people for over a year now without complaint. You’ve spent countless days staying late and making sure projects didn’t fall wayside while the company took their sweet ass time looking for replacements for your team.To their own admission, your metrics were good, so why the hell wasn’t your hard work being recognized?

“I don’t understand.” You swallow to keep your voice from shaking. You never pushed back on your bosses. Ever. But you thought today was the day you were finally going to be rewarded for everything you’ve done for them.

“You just said that my metrics were up and I was performing above expectations. What is hindering him from getting a promotion then?”

The two look at each other again and you can feel yourself beginning to shake as they bide their time for an excuse.

“Y/N, you have performed well this past year for the most part, but there were concerns with your performance in January.” Your boss folds her tanned hands on the faux wood tabletop as she speaks up. “You let things fall through the cracks and were distant from your work. We feel that is not reflective of someone who should hold a Senior Management position.” She offers a soft smile and a shitty excuse.

It takes your brain a moment to catch up with what they were talking about; January. Two months ago. Your aunt passed away suddenly from a heart attack as she was making dinner. You can still hear your mother’s cries over the phone as she called to tell you the news that her sister was dead. And at only 52.

You were only able to take one day off from work for her funeral, as you were in the middle of a project launch and it was all hands on deck. When you returned, yeah, you were “distant.” You were mourning the loss of a woman you loved dearly while trying to help your mother and cousins navigate their grief as well. Your aunt’s passing also made you scared for your own mother, who is a few years older, and some night’s you couldn’t sleep as you thought about life without your best friend. It took you weeks to shake free from the heartbreak and anxiety that had engulfed you, but you came back strong and started excelling once more.

And there your bosses sat, in the all-glass meeting room of the shared workspace your company rented out because they were too cheap to get a full-blown office, throwing your aunt’s death in your face and using it as the excuse as to why they would not be promoting you after more than eighteen months of slaving away for them with barely a thank you.

You laugh through your nose and shake your head as you swallow hard.

“We’re happy to talk more about this in a few months at your next check-in.” Your boss jumps in, and you bite down on your lip. “We know you’re committed to this company and role, and we want to make sure we help you get to the next level.” She smiles at you like she actually believes the bullshit she’s spouting.

You take a deep breath and genuinely smile back. You always prided yourself on keeping a cool head, especially at work. But a line had crossed, and even for you, enough was now enough.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Your boss ticks her head at your words. “Because I quit.” You stand up and smile down at the two asshats you gave everything for, and now realize, you would never get anything in return from them.

Both of their mouths fall open as they share a shocked look between them.

“Y/N, let’s not do anything rash.” Your boss’ boss stands as well, holding his hands up. “There’s no need to jump to something like this. I’m sure there’s something we can work out”

You push your chair in, your smile not wavering.

“I feel that this review is not reflective of a company I want to work for anymore.” You throw their words back to them. “I’ll have no issue finding a new role that values my hard work and dedication, and won’t use a family member’s death as a reason to squirrel out of a rightful promotion.”

“Best of luck filling my role.” You turn on your heel and hurry down the hallway to your shared office. A few coworkers glance up at your haste entrance, but you ignore them as you grab your purse and start grabbing the few personal effects that would fit on your tiny, shared desktop; just a single, unframed picture of you, your parents, and your brother, a few fidget toys, and your favorite pens. The rest belonged to the company, just like you had.

Without a word, you fling your purse onto your shoulder and with your head held high, carry yourself out of the office without a single glance back. As you step onto the elevator, you smirk as you watch through the all-glass walls as your bosses shout at one another before the doors close.

“You what?” Your mother gasps through the phone at your news. You knew your parents weren’t going to take this well, and you were prepared for it.

“I quit.” You repeat, even though you know she heard you the first time.

“Y/N, what on God’s green earth would make you quit without another job lined up?” She huffs.

You think about your Aunt Rose, how your bosses used your grief as an excuse not to give you a well-earned promotion. She was always free spirited, having career-jumped her whole life. She started as a bartender, then worked as a sous chef for a catering company before she decided she wanted to be a radio DJ. Years before she died, she had gotten her real estate license and was working as an agent right up until she passed. You had always been the opposite, very much a mirror of your mother. You went to a good college and got a business degree. You had worked for a few companies over the years, but you always stayed in the same field, working your way up the ladder. You never wanted to take a risk with your career, you had worked too hard. But working hard got you nothing but late nights and a bullshit yearly review.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. And you can barely recall the last time you got together with your friends, let alone a date. You had married your job and it had been a toxic and loveless relationship.

It was time to start fresh and take some time for yourself. Which is exactly why you had seventeen tabs of house rentals open on your laptop screen as you half-listen to your mother as she continues to admonish your rash decision.

“It’s going to be good for me, mom.” You cut her off once you’ve finally had enough of her harping. You loved the woman to death, but my god once you wind her up, she doesn’t stop.

“I have enough savings to comfortably get me through six months without a job. I’m going to take a few weeks off to reset, then I’ll hit the ground running with the job search.” You cross your legs as you languidly swipe through rental photos.

After a few more minutes, you finally hang up the phone and start seriously considering your options.

You wanted to get away upstate, not so far away that you couldn’t get back for anything important, but far enough to feel like the city wasn’t in your rearview mirror. You figured a month would be the perfect time. Four weeks of a quiet town to relax and rediscover your love of reading and writing. It’s been ages since you actually sat down and read a good book. You were never good at art, but maybe you’d even find a studio to do some painting or finally give pottery a try. For the first time in your life, your time would be your own to sleep in and do whatever you wanted with your days.

As you click through listings, you notice one that is significantly cheaper than the rest. Curiously, you click the link and a gray-sided cabin with a red tin-looking roof brightens up in front of you.

NEW LISTING! Private Guest House, Hot tub included.

One bedroom guest house available for rent. Relax in the peacefulness of upstate while being a short driving distance to town. The guest house has a full bathroom, complete with tub. There is also a hot tub on the patio that is for guest enjoyment. 10 minutes from downtown with plenty of bars and shops to keep you busy. The owner lives on the main property, but will keep to themself unless you need anything. Perfect for anyone looking to getaway!

As you click through the photos, you’re greeted with a warm, wooden interior, a wood burning stove, a fairly updated kitchen, and a queen bed with an adjacent master bath.

The cabin feels a little too good to be true for the price, and you click “Contact Owner” at the bottom of the page.

“Hello,” You start your chat. “I’m interested in potentially renting your guest cabin for four weeks. The place looks lovely but I wanted to ask if there are any issues I should be aware of since the price is so much more reasonable than other listings on this site.”

You were hoping there were no gimmicks, you’ve heard horror stories before, and with no reviews, you wanted to do your due diligence.

After you send the chat, you step away to make a quick dinner, chicken and ramen, comfy and warm, before you settle back onto the couch to watch your favorite reality show. You’re about to press play when you notice a response in your inbox.

“Hi there. Totally understand your concern. I just put the listing up today and am offering a discounted rate for the first few renters to help get traffic to our rental and start getting reviews. Let me know if you have any questions.” You shrug at the perfectly reasonable response and you click on the circular picture of the brunette next to the message, opening the owner’s profile.

LISA BRAEDEN (Host)

0 Reviews | 1 Month Renting

Lisa’s confirmed information

Identity ✓

Email address ✓

Phone number✓

Proud wife and owner of a unique property. I am a certified yoga instructor and have been teaching and practicing for over 15 years. I love a good glass of wine, a well-cooked meal, and traveling to new places.

You stare at the picture of the smiling, long-haired, tanned brunette. She’s absolutely beautiful. Probably a few years older than you and seems down to earth in a regular tshirt.

Honestly, considering you were out of a job, the discounted price would really come in handy. Then you wouldn’t feel so guilty taking a full month off before you started your job hunt.

You click back to the rental’s profile and put in your dates. You take a deep breath before clicking RESERVE and putting in your payment details. Your rental has been confirmed. The message pops up. With a thousand-watt smile, you shut your laptop and settle into your couch. In just a few days, you would be on your way to a new beginning.

Keep Reading

A/N: Fun fact, the first half of this was inspired by true events. Sadly, I didn't quit on the spot, but I did shortly after with a 10x better job.

And know we didn't get to see Dean yet, but I promise he will be in the next chapter!

Anywho, stealing this from the lovely @zepskies

NEXT TIME:

“I’m calling the cops!” She shouts, her phone in hand, music blaring from the speaker as her fingers are ready to press the three numbers as she stares at him with fear in her Y/C/E eyes.

“Take it easy,” Dean holds his hands up, and the woman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack as she notices the gun in his right hand. Realizing his mistake, he quickly tucks it away into his waistband and holds his empty hands out to her, wanting her to know he’s not a threat.

“First off,” Dean holds up a finger at her. “If anyone should be calling the cops, it’s me.” He points back to himself. “Secondly, what are you doing in my house?”

“Your house?” Her voice drips with confusion as her brow furrows.

“Yes my house.” He echoes, emphasizing his ownership. She continues to frown.

“Well if it’s your house, you would know I’m renting your guest house for the next four weeks.” She crosses her arms defiantly, confusion and fear gone as she challenges him.

“What are you talking about?” Now it’s Dean’s turn to be confused. He’s never rented the guest house out, nor would he ever.

Tag List

Forever

@iprobablyshipit91 @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213

TGH

@suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @spnbaby-67 @jackles010378 @itsdesiree86 @becca-rebel38

#recommended #not mine #deanwritings #dean x reader #spn #supernatual #AU #q

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captainsherlockwinchester110283 · 2 years ago

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New content?

I’ve started a side blog here where I just dump my thoughts. Think of it as a personal diary... thats on the internet... so it’s not so personal...

point being is I’m trying to get back into writing but I find it easier to write about my thoughts then create plots at the moment. SO if you want content that’s semi-continous and it’s not fanfiction or storyline based. This is the place. I will resume writing here just need to get the juices flowing again

https://www.tumblr.com/rantingofasmallorganism

#fanfiction #writing #writer #writers block #women writers #Supernatual #doctor who #Sherlock #x reader #reader insert #reader fic #fan fic #free write #diaryposting #diary #unblocking writers

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ilovejeongintoo · 6 months ago

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𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕖

!WARNING NSFW Content ahead! !MDNI!

Genre: Enemies to Lovers?, Racer Seonghwa x afab Reader Warning: Betting!, Illegal Racing!, Posessiveness! Overstimulation!, Fingering (fem rec.), Squirting Wordcount: 3810 Not proofread

Racer Seonghwa has been living in my mind rent free, that's it.

Summary: Your journalism career is hitting a slump and as a last resort you decide to interview famous underground racer Seonghwa, he doesn't seem too keen on making it easy though.

You slammed your car door as you step out, absolutely fed up. Nothing has been working your favor lately, nothing has been happening in this city, making it nearly impossible to cover any stories for your local newspaper. People weren't interested in reading about the parking lots at the mall being renewed.

People wanted to read something that's new, something exciting. Your boss had been nagging you about the articles that had been released under your guidance, he had made your whole team turn a blind eye, when you were tasked with writing a new one (that better be satisfactory, or else)

With basically nothing to lose you decided, if he wanted a story, he would get one, one that people would remember for weeks maybe even months to come.

So here you were with your little tote bag with you notepad and a few random pens shoved in. Your source had said that this place is in charge for a few secret racing events. Racing, something that noone had ever covered on paper, at least the underground kind. It was deemed too dangerous to get any interviews or even shots of said races. At least this wasn't some car spectacle but peole with motorbikes were stood all around.

Countless ones, there had to be at least 50 people just gathered here near the empty streets. You could tell that not many prefered to come out here on their own time, the location situated on top the citys high crime site. It was surprinsingly bright for a area that people described as the scariest part of Kuroyama.

The orange neon signs illuminated all the random posters and little shops that ran along the streets.

You weren't here for just an article about some underground motorbike affair. You were here for a specific thing, or more like specific individual.

Known on the streets as "Mars" he's one of the most renowed and admired for his capabilities. Cutting lanes and curves so thight that he gave off a supernatual kind of strength.

Though people feared him more than idolized him, as rumors said that he was in close quarters with illegal fights before this and got his support from his earlier connections.

You were here to finally get some light on him, as the population was highly interested in the danger of "Mars".

You were walking around the place trying to spot him anywhere, his bike is the only his own symbol of importance and had others looking out for.

You were looking for exactly that, other bikers gave you lingering stares that clearly told you how out of place you looked. The coat and skirt did nothing to hide the typical journalist uniformity and you cursed you chief for implementing said thing.

Before long you heard some hooping and yelling in the distance and knew immediately who it was. You pushed through the crowd that had gathered and almost flew on your face. When you were at the front you were greeted by a long figure. Helmet on, orange-black racing gear covered him. A planet symbol that ran across his arm and the same one on his bike had you confirming his identity even more. He waved at a few people clearly enjoying the attention and drove slowly to a designated spot on the concrete, it was outlined with his color.

People seemed to get the hint and back of a little, some men just as tall as the man of the hour came up to him though and started talking with him.

He adjusted his gloves and some things on his outfit, pulling his zipper down a little and revealing a black wifebeater underneath. You guessed those outfits came with the disadvantage of getting hot even in the night.

When those men also dispersed in multiple directions and he was finally left alone, you decided to walk up to him. Slow steps, boots clicking he looked up when you were right in front of him. Right away talking rather dismissively: "I don't do autographs, no matter how much or what you offer me." He waved you off a little, you got your business card out and thrusted it right into his face, a little annoyed that he mistook you as one of his fans.

You wouldn't approach him if it wasn't for your job. Before he could get another word out "I'm not here for an autograph, I'm here for some questions."

You couldn't gauge his reaction because of the helmet but he tilted his head a little at your statement.

"What are you? The police? I don't answer questions if they don’t benefit me in some kind of way sweets."

The helmet was starting to annoy you and the name that he gave you, just ticked you off. "Look I'm sure that you could use the publicity, at least it would be more of the positive kind."

He continued looking at you, waiting for your next argument to somehow convince him. Clearly, he wasn't satisfied with that. You decided this was where you would have to use your trump card already.

"I know that this underground scene is exhilarating for you, but legal racing would make you more money, much safer."

"That's something you want, to get out of this illegal ring that you've been caught in and I'm here to help you with that"

It grew oddly quiet. "You know absolutely nothing about what I want." The teasing lilt from before was entirely gone, replaced with a cold and sharp voice.

"You need to move along, I’ll forget this conversation happened and you leave."

There was no way that you were just going to leave like this, without anything. After coming all this way.

Before he could even turn his engine on to drive away from you, you grabbed him by the collar of his undershirt making him to make you next point.

A lot more harsher than was probably necessary you got in his face. "I don't know what kind of complexes you're dealing with, but I'm your ticket out of here, I don't know if your head is so far up your ass that you can't see that or if you're choosing to ignore it."

"Do what you want, but I was here, giving you the chance to make it big in the racing industry."

You let go, making him slump back onto his vehicle. You knew it wouldn't be easy but straight up being rejected without a second thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You would have to think of a different topic now. You sighed before turning away, already walking back to your car.

After a few steps, you heard that voice call out to you from behind. "Hey! Okay, wait!" That made you stop and turn around. You were expecting some kind of insult now, you mentally prepared for it. He reached up to the strap of his helmet, clasping it open and pushing it off his head. Shaking his head slightly to fix his hair and then he looked right at you.

Dark eyes, sharp eyes and an even sharper nose. Raven hair styled away from his face. You were momentarily distracted by the unexpected appearance, he didn't look much older than you, mid-twenties maybe.

"Okay, let's make a deal" He fully stepped off his bike, leaving his helmet back and making his way towards you. "If you still think that I'm such a person by the end of this race, I'll grant you lil wish and let you interview me" He gestured a little to himself and the lanes behind himself.

"Your little claim of me quote on quote "making it big" better be true" He threw up some quotation marks with his hands, he walked towards his back again with his back turned to me, sitting on top of it again.

"Cuz, you'll need it, you'll get a lot of backlash for this" I interrupted him before he could give another one of his smart comments. "I already decided that I wanted this, anything negative that happens after this all, I'll consider it to not be part of it" "Right" His response was dragged out a bit, like he didn't quite believe me.

"I'm Park Seonghwa, Mars is the name I use for my fans but you're not a fan of mine."

"I'm not"

He smirked, pulling his protection gear back on. Getting ready for the race. I watched him drive off a bit further along the road, getting in line with a few others and doing some final checks on his things. I moved myself from my rooted position to get to the viewer stage, that gave me sight of the lane. It seemed fairly simple, you drive the course three times and placing as high as you could.

You didn't know what to expect from Seonghwa, never having seen him actually drive. You had only heard stories about it up until this point.

When the start signal was received by the drivers, they accelerated straight away, making some stay further back and others taking the lead up front.

Seonghwa was right in the middle, everything seemed normal up until the last round. When you noticed some guys near Seonghwa driving a little too close to him, any person would think that would be a cause for concern.

One guy wanted Seonghwa out of the competition, picking his foot up and delivering a swift kick to the side of Seonghwa’s bike. It shook the vehicle quite a bit, almost making you think that it would swerve and crash.

This was when you wrapped your head around the fact that this wasn't your average sports channel show. This was it, this was the underground world, nothing here would be fair.

Seonghwa recovered rather fast, seemingly used to this kind of trickery. He moved his body further onto his bike, almost laying down on it. The next curve would decide if he could still make it to first place, any later and he wouldn't make it. He leaned his body down, his one knee scrapping the concrete below and making the turn as tight as possible, overtaking anyone that cut it in a wide way. It successfully landed him just behind a guy in first place. Your heart was racing, they were barely a few hundred yards away from the finish line.

Seonghwa, accelerated even more, however that was possible. The other dude seemed to notice him now, quickly looking behind himself and panicking when he saw who it was. They were right next to each other now; you couldn't tell who would win from the sight alone.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your own ears, making a drumroll for the results of this.

Just a few moments from the line away, Seonghwa gradually started overtaking him. Little by little the distance grew, until he crossed. Cheers erupted all around you, people jumping up and spilling their drinks. Your eyes were as wide in shock and astonishment, you were thinking that he was definitely more talk than game. Seonghwa came to a stop after a while there, taking his helmet off and running to the group of guys from the start. Getting crushed in a group hug and overall being very happy.

The other losers watched a little in disappointment at their failure to win or even sabotage the chances of him winning. He disconnected himself from the group and looked around, searching for something, when his eyes locked onto you stepping off the viewing stage.

Waltzing up to you with an air of confidence. "Still wanna interview me sweets?" His voice rang out, in all of its smugness.

You couldn't help but break a smile, getting dragged into the cheery atmosphere. "Absolutely, now even more that I know that the Park Seonghwa is a true winner."

"Alright, I'll do the interview, but I need you to promise something for me, consider it lending a helping hand, okay?"

He steeled himself "I need you to vouch for the safety of my brothers." He pointed his gaze to the group of men standing behind and watching the interaction between the two you.

His gaze was a lot softer, almost sentimental. Definitely not something you would expect from him.

You became stunned at that, whatever kept him in this dangerous had to do with protecting his family. Whatever it was didn't matter too much to you, you came here to get a story but now you had made it your mission to help him. Even with his difficult demeanor. "I promise." He relaxed at that. Before long you could soak in the relaxed air, another voice came from a few feet away, one of the guys that tried to make Seonghwa lose.

"What the hell was that huh Mars?!" "We had a deal that you'd lose"

What? Wait hold on.

Seonghwa didn’t break the eye contact with you, speaking to you but addressing what the man just said.

"The deal's off, I'm quitting here" He ripped the symbol off his jacket, throwing it at the dude.

"You- You were supposed to lose, this is gonna make us lose a lot of money. Boss won't be happy." He was in disbelief at the nonchalant air around him.

Like this was just a normal occurrence to him. Unimpressed Seonghwa spun himself to finally look at the man. "That's not my problem anymore" he faced you and took you by the hand, heading right for his bike. You were dragged and almost spilled you bag on the floor.

"Seonghwa what-, what are you doing?" You questioned him with furrowed eyebrows, he pulled his helmet over your head successfully ignoring your question.

He sat down pulling you towards him more and grabbed your thigh, signaling you to swing your legs over the machine. Which you did, although reluctantly. He grabbed your forearms with both hands and wrapped them around himself. You could feel the hard muscle underneath but before you could fantasize, he presses on the gas, smoke cloud coming out from under the wheel and before he drove off.

You could faintly hear the man from before yelling at Seonghwa to stop but it was quickly fading away when Seonghwa drove onto the main roads.

You squeezed him a little tighter out of fear, it was one thing to see him driving from afar, being in the middle of the action was absolutely terrifying.

He slowed the pace, sensing your anxiety. He put his hand over one of yours and clutched it tightly against him, trying to comfort you.

"Relax, I'm not gonna let you fall off"

You knew that hell he could probably operate down a mountain, and you would be totally fine. Your butt was starting to hurt from the constant pressure, and you told him to go to the side from here and let you hop off for a bit.

He pulled up to a small alleyway, planning to hide in case someone was following him, which you really doubted.

You stepped off and immediately relaxed onto a nearby wall, sitting down on the concrete there, pulling your legs to your chest. "I like the helmet on you, fits you." He said against the cool air. He leaned against his machine after turning the key in the ignition. You looked up at him through the thin glass, making everything look darker than it actually. You took it off, even after the weird compliment.

"I can see why you enjoy speeding down roads like that, gets your heart racing." Yours still hadn't calmed, though that might be for a different reason now, when you looked at Seonghwa.

His charisma was undeniable, his looks, the confidence, everything made him so much more attractive. And the equally contradicting duality, the split second where you saw him soften up.

It made you gulp in realization.

You dragged your eyes up his form, from his leather boots to the matching leather pants, followed up with that jacket that was now fully unzipped, up to his face.

He already had his gaze on yours "Take a picture, it lasts longer." He couldn't go two seconds without being insufferable it seemed. You stood up feeling more awake now and the pain in your butt lessened. You marched over to him, fully intent on leaving as fast as possible. He halted you when he stepped in your way, while you were trying to go around him.

It almost made you bump into his chest. "Oh, come on, I was just joking, you're just fun to tease sweets." He grinned from ear to ear, pretty teeth and grills on display.

"Stop calling me that."

"What?"

"Sweets, I don't know what made you think that that would be an appropriate name for me"

"Maybe I don't want it to be appropriate between us" He watched you with a dark gaze, caressing your hand that was hanging besides your body.

He moved his eyes from yours to your lips and then back up again. "You know… I still haven't gotten my price from winning. I think you could help me with that, no?" It was painfully obvious what he meant by that, and you would have been lying if you said you weren't interested.

Your work not giving you any time for any sexual endeavors and leaving you frustrated, maybe that's why you were so on edge today. "Yeah, I could do that" Your lids falling shut a little as breathy whisper escaped you and you leaned in to lock your lips together.

Pillowy that’s how they felt, and it sent a good spark of electricity down your spine. You threaded your hands into his styled hair messing it up more than any helmet could.

He too you by the waist and spun you around making your butt hit the bike a little. He wrapped his fingers around your thighs, lifting you up and setting you down on it, stepping right between your spread legs.

He moved one hand down still kissing you, making you lose your breath. He reached the waistband of your skirt and then he moved further not bothering to take it off. He pushed your panties onto your core a few times, massaging the sensitive flesh and the roughness of the fabric provided a delicious feeling.

You let out some quiet moans that were swallowed by Seonghwa’s mouth. He dragged the fabric down your legs pulling one leg up a little to get it off and let them rest on your ankle. Your legs naturally spread more with one leg propped up.

He groaned when he pulled away from you and looked down, your core glistening in your own juices. He attached his gloved fingers to you immediately, going up and down your slit a few times before he inserted two fingers into you. You easily took them, groaning and taking ahold of his shoulder with one hand and the other rested on the seat.

He pumped them in and out, in, out, the most repetitive motion but each time he got a little deeper. Those long fingers hitting your g-spot inside and scissoring your walls apart.

He didn't take his eyes off your pussy even once, completely entranced by the sight of you swallowing his fingers. When he added a third finger, you almost came on the spot. The leather on his hand made it so much more filthy, so much louder. He grinded the heel of his hand on your clit, watching you with a satisfied smile.

"Omg, Hwa-Seonghwa, I c-can't" You lost the words on your tongue, not being able to voice out your thoughts.

You were a garbled mess now, hair askew, sweat on your neck and face completely uncaring of being in a public setting. He just continued, making your toes finally curl and your body seize up. Your head going white for a few seconds.

"Yes, you can" he thrusted his fingers more, one thumb coming up to play with your clit, making you hypersensitive.

After a while he slowed the speed of his thrusts, working his wrist a little slower but not stopping.

Holy shit, he's not for real right now.

Your eyes rolled back a little.

You were no stranger for a little bit of kinky sex but getting overstimulated wasn't on your list of experiences. Though you weren't complaining in the least. Enjoying the way your slick leaked out onto your legs and the seat. Seonghwa's whole hand and wrist was wet.

"Give me another sweets, just one more." It was almost said in a begging kind of way. He angled his fingers even deeper into you, picking the speed of his thrusts up, slow, soft fingers on your clit. You were starting to feel like you were dying or floating?

You let out your loudest moan when Seonghwa dropped to his knees, hitting dirt, and attaching his mouth to your clit. Kissing and licking getting anything and everything in his mouth. Those same soft lips felt even softer on your pussy. It was making you clench and build up to your orgasm incredibly fast. He looked up into your eyes and you took the hand that you had on his shoulder off and dropped it onto his head, gripping his hair for dear life.

One more swipe of his tongue and you were bursting like a broken water dam. Squirting onto his face and tongue. Screaming your lungs out in a long almost pornographic moan.

He pushed his fingers up three or four times, making sure to pull the last bits of your sanity out of you. And just when it started to become too sensitive he stopped, pulling his fingers out of you.

And popping them…

into his mouth.

He groaned a little at the taste of you, the sight definitely straight out of your fantasies. Maybe this was one of them, part of your fantasy, your imagination.

"See, you could do it, good job" He caressed your hips, grabbing the flesh in a possessive kind of way and kissing your cheek. Which was strangely sweet, given what he showed you a moment ago.

He caressed your head, combing some hair back into place. "Let's get you home sweets." You were out of it, you barely registered what he said.

He drove you home with you clinging onto his back even more than before. The night ended with him leaving a passionate kiss onto you lips and a quick squeeze to your ass, your phone number now saved for future "interviews".

When he walked off, back to his bike from your doorstep he spun something quite familiar on his finger, your panties.

Waving them around like a price and then tucking them into his pants. And driving off looking incredibly smug.

#seonghwa #seonghwa smut #ateez x you #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez smau #ateez x reader

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justiceiswater · 1 year ago

Photo

physical touch!! i go crazy!

“I guess it’s not so much the not calling me back that bothers me its the… uhhh…the, uhh–wh–why are you looking at me like that?”

Cas’s expression had you feeling like you had just downed a glass of whiskey. Your face was flushing under his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was quiet, like it was only ever for your ears. “You have an eyelash, just, on your cheek,” he said. His eyes flitted between yours and down to the dark lash clinging to your skin. “May I?” You nodded, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get a natural sounding voice to pass your lips. Cas’s blue eyes seemed to smile as he gently swept a finger over your cheekbone. You closed your eyes at his touch and quickly fluttered them back open.

“There,” he said. But though the eyelash was gone, he still was looking at you the same way, studying you intently like he was memorizing every fleck of color in your eyes, every freckle, every curve of your face.

#castiel #wings #cas x reader #supernaturalfreewill #castiel fanfics #angel of the lord #spn #cas fluff #spn fanfics #spn imagines #gif imagines #supernatual

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princesssmars · 1 year ago

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practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x witch reader #stiles x reader #witch reader #witch!reader #deaton #scott mcall

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miss-madness67 · 11 months ago

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Advent Calendar 2022: Day 7 (Dean)

A story of 25 christmases with the love of your life, Dean Winchester.

(These are not stand-alone drabbles, you must read them as a whole).

Day 6

“Come dance with me?” You murmur in Dean’s ear as the party is in full-on blast around you. You’re too drunk to notice, but the soft breath on his skin sends goosebumps all over.

This year you couldn’t scrunch up enough money to visit your family for the holidays, you tried, you really did, but being a 21-year-old, college student rediscovering herself proves to be more expensive than it seems. Now that you’re legal to do a lot of things and try some others -not that it stopped you before- you want to get the best out of college and youth. There’s a strong probability of going back to being a hunter, so now it’s when you should let loose. Of course, your plans of not going back to Sioux Falls didn’t stop Dean from borrowing the Impala and showing up at your campus unannounced.

A drunk Santa bumps into you, sending you on top of Dean, who is perched on a barstool. Surprisingly, he’s the one keeping the wits tonight because he hasn’t had more than a beer.

Dean sighs, “I think it’s time for us to go back to your dorm, you’re wasted.”

You whine, “whaaat? We just got here.”

“Sugar, we got here five hours ago.”

You pout, “I thought you wanted to take a pretty college girl to your motel?” You cannot hide the snide in your voice.

Dean catches on, but decides to ignore it, instead, he says; “I am taking a pretty college girl, but to her room.” He smirks at you, “now, c’mon, I don’t want you to puke on me.”

Day 8

Tags: @sweetwerewolfqueen @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @perpetualabsurdity @deanswaywardgirl @seppys-return-to-madness @desimarie12 @hobby27 @mrspeacem1nusone @fluff-lover @melannie77

#fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #spn x reader #supernatual christmas #advent calendar #christmas fluff #spn advent calendar #teen dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean advent calendar #christmas fanfiction #christmas

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waynes-multiverse · 2 years ago

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Plastic Hearts – Part 12

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Chapter Warnings: +18, coarse language and a lot of very dark jokes (😂), abortion & unwanted pregnancy, smoking & mentions of drugs, heart to heart, flangst, pining, comfort

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Say what you will, but this chapter made me fall hard for our train wreck with a heart. Don’t tame my animal style, babes 😏🖤 (ALSO MAKE SURE TO READ PART 11 FIRST! It posted Friday & Tumblr has been messing up tags like crazy lately 🙄)

<< 11 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

12. The Warrior

Dean’s fingers nervously drum against the steering wheel, Led Zeppelin flowing out the stereo at the lowest volume as he smacks his lips in boredom. The motel parking lot is tranquil, palm trees softly swaying in the breeze. All the women left for the gym two hours ago, while the California morning sun warms the golden freckles on his skin as it beams through the windshield.

It’s punctually nine o’clock when he spots Y/N exit her motel room and jog up to the Impala before sliding into the passenger’s seat. He’s been in the car since 8am, though – just in case she needed him sooner. Of course, she didn’t because she’s a true fighter, but he wanted to be there for her, nevertheless. He even forwent the booze and coke last night and this morning, wanting to be as clean and sober for her as possible. He swears he hasn’t been this clear in his goddamn head in months.

It’s fucking weird.

As soon as the young actress sits comfortably, Dean hands her a cup of the blackest coffee and swiftly offers her a smoke. “I also have vodka here if you want. I even rolled you a joint if that’s more your style. And, uh, we can stop by for breakfast sushi on our way there, huh?”

As stupid as it sounds, Dean’s trying to make this a fun experience for her. Feeling quite helpless, there isn’t much he can do to make this situation any better for her, but he can always make her smile, right? So, that’s his goal today. He doesn’t want her to feel sad, guilty, or ashamed, even if his methods are a little wonky and admittedly could use some fine-tuning. Still, they seem to do the trick as his strategy casts an appreciative smile on her lips.

“Thanks, Dean.” Chuckling, she accepts the coffee and lights her cigarette, taking one drag before handing it back to him.

“Atta girl,” he smirks and starts the car.

“I think the coffee and the smoke will suffice, though,” Y/N ponders playfully, “Don’t wanna overdo it, you know?”

Dean chuckles lightly and jokes, “So, I should cancel our trip to Magic Mountain?”

“Definitely,” she laughs, the melody causing his heart to swell twice its size. “You know, I wasn’t sure you were the right person to bring to something like this, but now I’m convinced I made a wise choice.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wiggle of his eyebrows, his cheeks blushing furiously as his heart hammers outside his chest like a cartoon character. Was there ever an episode where Squirrel fell for Natasha?

As Dean steals glimpses at Y/N from his periphery, he can’t help but think she’s stunning, even on rainy days like these. Sometimes, it’s even hard to grasp that he could end up this lucky at all. “So, uhm, I broke up with Bela yesterday,” he shares, swallowing. Would it be weird if he asked Y/N out on a date immediately after an abortion? Probably, right? Is there a protocol here? “I-, I tried to be nice, but, uhm, she got a little emotional… I think I broke her heart, you know?”

Good plan. He’s making himself more desirable, you know? Besides, who wouldn’t wanna be with him, right? He’s a total catch. Cas tells him so all the time. Perhaps, someone should’ve told his ex-wife that, too.

Okay, alright, stop laughing. He doesn’t need to explain himself to you…

Y/N’s head bobs musingly, pursing her lips. She then gives him a casual shrug of her shoulders, “She seemed fine when I saw her this morning.”

“Oh, good,” Dean clears his throat with a lack of subtlety and ignores his dented ego. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, make it awkward…”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m sure…,” Y/N hums. Does it feel a little like she’s mocking him? Dean swears there’s a trace of a smirk on her lips. “She also wished me good luck,” she adds, frowning, and suspiciously cocks an eyebrow at him. “Did you tell her about–?”

“No, I promised you I wouldn’t, so I didn’t, okay? I would never do that to you,” Dean assures her, the panic rising in his ribcage because, unlike Y/N, he knows precisely what the British blabbermouth meant by that careless comment. “It’s, you know, just Bela. She’s nuts. Don’t pay attention to her, alright?”

“Uhm, sure.”

Dean’s not so sure, however, if she bought his poor excuse of a deflection. But whatever Bela thinks she knows, she’s wrong about it. He’s not in fucking love with Y/N.

Arriving at the clinic in Inglewood, Dean accompanies the young actress to the receptionist, stubbornly never leaving her side, even when Y/N protests and tells him his efforts aren’t necessary – as if he would ever wait in the fucking car.

“Y/N Y/L/N, 10am?” the nurse at the reception counter checks, barely gracing them with a glance. Y/N nods softly, and the older nurse shoves a clipboard with a form at her, looking rather grimly, causing Dean to wonder who spit in that woman’s coffee this sunny morning. “Fill this out for me, okay? The doctor will answer any questions you or your boyfriend might have.”

“Oh, we’re not–”

“I’m not her boyfriend,” Dean cuts in and then corrects the nurse with a smile, “I’m her husband. Common mistake, you know? Kinda like having sex without a condom.”

The nurse seems a little taken aback by his prickly commentary but stays polite, muttering, “Well, it’s good that you’re here.”

“Yeah, just wasn’t the right time for us. I could’ve pulled out but… got too lazy,” Dean feigns a sigh and wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close to him. Surprisingly, she leans into his shtick and nuzzles into his embrace. So naturally, he places a loving kiss on her crown for the best possible show. “Sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she pats his chest in gentle comfort. “It happens. We’ll go anal next time.”

Strindberg never fails to impress him with her acting skills.

“Yeah, lucky for us, we hate children,” Dean grins broadly at the nurse, who looks unamused at best and absolutely fed up at worst.

“Please take a seat,” Nurse Ratched tells the pair dryly, the two of them giggling under their palms like stupid teenagers as they settle down in the dreary waiting area.

“You know, I’m glad you came with me today,” Y/N says, smiling gratefully, and starts filling out her form, her fingers white-knuckling the pen. “I mean, if I had asked one of the girls, well, it wouldn’t have been like… this. It probably would’ve been more…”

“Depressing?” Dean offers knowingly, nodding. “Yeah, you’re welcome, sweetheart. I mean, this place isn’t helping,” he remarks as his green eyes disdainfully scan the sad interior, walls painted in a suicidal gray. “Jesus fuck… Would it hurt them to hang up some nice pictures or, you know, some motivational posters or some shit? Even the fucking fern is plastic… You know, they could offer women tequila shots when coming in or something like that. Who gives a shit, right? Maybe make a little cozy bong area over there for ultimate relaxation, have a buffet with raw meat and fish over here, offer shuttle rides to Disneyland after, so women can truly appreciate what horror they’ve escaped from…”

Y/N loudly snorts next to him and hides half her face in her gray hoodie. Her cheeks are burning red, her eyes are full of unstoppable tears, and her laugh strangles her windpipe. “God, Dean, stop,” she begs him through her giggles, clutching her stomach, and wipes the wetness from her glowing dimples. “The nurse is already looking at you,” she whispers warningly and yet still can’t stop chuckling, nudging his arm with her elbow.

“Oh, let her,” Dean scoffs and dismisses the nurse’s glare. “She wouldn’t get it. Just look at her. That old hag hasn’t been fucked properly in centuries.”

“Dean!” Y/N swats his chest and clasps her mouth to keep the laugh from spilling out, her eyes wide.

“Alright, I’ll stop,” the director chuckles devilishly, although he greatly enjoys making her smile. What can he say? He’s a lover of all the beautiful things life has to offer, and her smile is one of those gorgeous things he can never get enough of.

“I’m sorry. I know you probably had different plans for your morning,” Y/N says then and gives him a self-effacing shrug, which he can’t let slide with a clean conscience.

“What? Nonsense. Happy to be here. Anything for my wife,” he assures her with his widest grin and pats her thigh comfortingly, the contact causing a jolt of electricity to storm his blood and infect his heart. “Besides, while you’re in there, I might get some donuts.”

“Ooooh, can you please pick me up a pink frosted one?” Y/N inquires with the cutest pout. How the fuck could he resist that?

“Pink frosted?” Dean’s brow furrows in a teasing manner. “What are you, six?”

“I’m a girl. I like pink things,” she replies coyly, her pout only getting more adorable. If that girl isn’t careful, she’s gonna be pregnant within the day again.

Dear God, he feels like the worst human being on this godforsaken planet. The last thing she needs today is another horny dude lusting over her.

“Mhm,” Dean hums and tries to bite back the comment on the tip of his tongue, failing miserably. “Maybe if you liked pink things a little less, we wouldn’t be here.”

Y/N drops her pen onto the clipboard in her lap, her lips pressing into a thin line that’s supposed to hide the smile. Her eyes find his, crinkles of amusement visible around her orbs as she nods, “Fair... But luckily, I don’t have to worry about that for a while.”

“What, are you gonna become a nun or some shit because of one wimpy little douchecanoe?”

Oh, Dean can’t let that stand, either. That should go without saying. Even if Y/N gives up on all mankind, he’s not giving up on her.

“There was more than one,” Y/N mutters bitterly and focuses back on her form.

Dean pauses for a moment, pushing the anger and the urge to strangle those motherfuckers down into the depths of his soul, although there are probably girls out there who would say the same about him. With a small exhale, he then leans closer, angling his body towards her for more privacy. “I think this is the part where I’m supposed to ask you if this is what you really want. You know, as your husband…”

Y/N carefully meets his gaze but gives him a determined nod, not an ounce of worry, fear, or insecurity gleaming in her orbs. Eye of the tiger. “Yeah, this is what I want. It’s not the right time… or the right guy… or the right baby,” she assures him, and then her little nose scrunches, brow knitting. It’s adorable to watch. “Besides, Sammy Jr. is a biter.”

“Yeah, I know… That kid is Satan’s spawn,” Dean agrees heavily and points his index finger at her belly. “Can you already feel teeth growing in there?”

Y/N laughs softly and shakes her head, “They don’t have teeth yet... I think.”

“Well, this one might,” he quips under his breath.

“Dude, stop it,” she snorts and whacks his arm in a scolding attempt, which really won’t do anything. It’s her own fault for bringing an untamed animal into a public place. Then, a small sigh leaves her ample lips, “Jo and Sam are actually trying to save their marriage. They’re going to couple’s therapy twice a week now.”

“It’s not gonna last,” Dean scoffs darkly, the usual cynicism lacing his voice. “What was it about that douche, anyways? Are you in love with him?”

“No,” is her instant reply, which comes out in a snort. And while her answer should’ve brought him relief, the tone of her reaction carries the same dark cynicism, leaving him with worries instead. “I’m just a sucker for non-threatening, unavailable men who compliment me,” she jabs herself. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in love. I just-… never had that feeling, you know? Like missing someone or needing someone so much you might stop breathing… Not sure that even exists.”

“Hmm,” he hums pensively, postponing his quest to find her reason behind it to another day. There are more pressing matters at hand right now. “I know cheating husband is out of the question, but what about the other two knuckleheads? Maybe they wanna do this with you?”

Y/N lets out a dreadful sigh, and Dean only feels more relief when she answers, “Yeah, maybe… But I don’t wanna do this with them. I mean, one’s an alcoholic park ranger, and the other a stand-up comic with a severe heroin addiction.”

“Wow, you were right. You really don’t know how to pick men,” Dean whistles lowly, albeit her bad taste might eventually pay off for him.

“Told you. Nun life is just a wise decision at this point,” Y/N says in agreement, which was absolutely the last thing he wanted.

Licking his suddenly chapped lips, Dean rubs his beard and takes a deep breath to calm his jittering nerves. “You know… I’m an option, too,” he suggests weakly, his fingernails clawing into the armrest of the withered faux-leather chair.

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, I-.. I have a house. It’d be big enough, y’know? I could help you. We can even do that whole marriage thing… I mean, if that’s something you fancy. You know, for your parents or some shit. I-, I don’t mind,” he stammers and bites his tongue so roughly he tastes the metal. Wait, is he smelling burnt toast?

Of course, he doesn’t mind it. He’s practically begging her on his knees to accept his proposal.

Y/N laughs lightly, her cheeks blushing rosy pink, “That’s awfully sweet of you, but I’m gonna have to decline. Kinda wanna get married for the right reasons, too. I’d actually like to be in love with my husband, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I get it…,” Dean chuckles his lie and uncomfortably scratches away at his throat. “That’s why my first two marriages happened. Just didn’t work out, so, you know, thought I’d give this a shot. Can’t hurt, right?” Jesus fuck, he feels like a cracked egg on the sizzling hot asphalt. “I’m just sayin’, I guess… I’m here for you… Anything you need, sweetheart. Doesn’t matter what.”

Y/N smiles softly, “I know. You’re a pretty awesome guy. Thanks.” For a second, he’s not sure if there are tears of gratitude shimmering in her orbs, but they’re gone by the time she leans up and presses a kiss on his cheek. The softness of her lips on his scruffy skin ignites the spot where they touch, match meeting fuse, a warm glow swarming from this exact point through his veins and overtaking his entire body like a wildfire.

“Yeah, uhm, anytime,” he gulps, the tips of his ears turning beet-red as he tries to shake off the fluster. “You know, I’d make a great option, in fact. I’m nothing like those losers you’ve dated. We’d have fun, you know? I’d treat you well, pay attention to you, make sure you cum every time when we fuck…”

“Oh, so sex was included in this deal, huh? If only you’d said that before, it might have persuaded me,” Y/N says with a cheeky smile. “I’m sure you’d do that completely selflessly, too.”

“Duh. Told you. Anything you need – and free of charge,” Dean smirks widely, causing her to giggle.

“Well, thank you for your tremendous sacrifice, Mr. Winchester,” she retorts playfully and then bites down on her lower lip, teasing him with a playful twinkle in her orbs, “Not sure you’d make a better choice, though.”

“Whoa, hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m a catch,” Dean defends, chuckling, albeit his heart disagrees with him and stings quite a bit.

“Oh, yes, totally… But you also drink too much and have a coke addiction. If anything, you’re the last two guys combined. If you were married as well, we’d be in serious trouble now, my friend,” Y/N jokes completely innocently, so he forces a laugh from his throat, even though she hit a sore point.

Yeah, Dean truly isn’t any better than those previous losers. He’d probably drag her down to the gutter with him – it happened before with someone he loved. Y/N deserves a nice guy without any issues and mountains of baggage. She’s the best fucking person he’s ever met in his entire life. She’s not supposed to end up with a dumpster fire like him. He should count himself lucky he’s even allowed to take a breath in her proximity at all.

“I don’t have an addiction,” Dean counters nonetheless, coolly shrugging off her accusations, defensive yet calm. “So I snort an occasional line from time to time. It’s not a big deal. I can stop anytime I want. I’m in complete control, you know?”

“Uh-huh, prove it and stop.”

“What?!” His head snaps to her. Shit, he didn’t count on her challenging him.

“You heard me. Prove it,” Y/N shrugs simply as if she knows how to push his buttons as well. “Unless it’s not as easy as you say it is…”

“Pffft, what? No, it’s super easy. I’ll do it. No problem,” Dean agrees in default cocksure attitude, albeit his Adam’s apple bobs with a nervously thick swallow. “But just coke, not the booze,” he adds quickly.

“Deal,” Y/N accepts and holds out her hand, grinning.

“Deal.” He shakes it in accord and pretends the terror and anxiety in his ribcage don’t exist and aren’t consuming his entire being. However, when he gazes at her, he realizes the bitter truth.

Fucking Bela…

How the fuck could she have known? Is it that obvious? But Dean’s never been surer – he’s head over heels in love with the radiating girl next to him. There’s no denying it anymore. He never would’ve agreed to this insane deal otherwise. There’s a yearning inside of him that demands him to be better for her. It’s not filthy lust and simple debauchery he’s longing for. It’s fucking love.

Shit.

“You know, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks… Maybe I will go to New York after the show,” Y/N says with a soft, almost shy smile as if she still isn’t entirely sure it’s a good idea.

Dean gives her an encouraging smile, “Yeah, that’s a great plan, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods and squeezes her thigh reassuringly. “‘Sides, if you don’t leave this shithole on your own, I’ll throw you into Baby’s trunk and drive you there myself. Gonna kick your ass all the way to the Yankees, sweetheart.“

“Thank you,” Y/N mouths quietly, her gaze drifting to his palm that still lingers on her thigh. He’s about to pull it back, realizing he probably overstepped his appropriate time limit, when Y/N suddenly takes hold of his hand and interlaces her fingers with his.

Fuck. When was the last time he actually held hands with someone? God, it was probably with his high school sweetheart – Robin. The actress actually reminds him a lot of his first ex-wife, both too sweet and good to ever fit into filthy Hollywood. Bringing Robin here when they were only nineteen and naive has always been his biggest regret, so maybe by getting Y/N out of this hellish city, he can finally right a wrong.

“Ms. Y/L/N? We’re ready for you,” the nurse informs her.

Dean watches her as she bravely rises from her seat and follows the nurse, head high and shoulders straight like the true warrior she is. He’s never been prouder of her. That’s his fucking girl.

“You got this, honey!” Dean hollers after her through cupped palms like the man-child he is, several heads turning to him with irritated glances. He doesn’t care, though. His job is to make Y/N smile, not an audience. “Afterwards, we’re gonna fuck like bunnies! Probably gonna be back here next month, baby girl,” he smirks cunningly, and when the nurse shakes her head at him with a glare, he sends the grim woman a wink to top it off.

Y/N disappears inside the small room with the doctors, Dean still hearing her infectious laugh when the blue door closes. The sound warms his heart and soothes his worries a little. He then waits a beat for any last-minute decision changes before exiting this goddamn depressing shithole to grab a fucking pink frosted donut for the woman he loves.

13. Gimme All Your Lovin’

Hope you enjoyed this little weird bonding experience! As a reward for bearing with me here, you’re getting some smut in the next two parts 😉

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