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doctorbitchcrxft · 7 months ago

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No Exit | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: Jo and reader are dicks to each other, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5754

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You and the Winchester boys had been hunkered down in the rooms Ellen told you about the first time she met you for a few days now. You were grateful for her generosity while you and the brothers tried to pin down your next move with the demon or another hunt, but you were going stir crazy. You sat on the hood of the Impala under the shade of a tree pouring through newspapers. Sam and Dean approached you after a few hours of you researching.

“What are you doing to my baby?” Dean asked you.

“Dee, she’s fine, we’re bonding,” you said, tapping the spot next to you on the hood. “Nothing’s dented or broken; promise.”

He gave you a skeptical look but said nothing else.

“ ‘Sides, I was getting ready to come get you anyway,” you said, hopping down. “I think I got something. Los Angeles, California.”

“What’s in L.A.?” Sam asked.

“Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult,” you smirked.

“Yeah? Girl got a name?”

“Katie Holmes.”

Dean chuckled, and a grin spread across your face.

“Seriously, though, it’s like all things supernatural disappeared off the face of the earth,” you continued.

Dean turned his head toward the Roadhouse at the sound of a glass breaking. “Ooh, catfight.”

You grimaced and followed the boys into the bar cautiously. Ellen and Jo were arguing loudly about Jo wanting to go off and Ellen wanting her to stay at the Roadhouse or go back to school. She stopped shouting when she noticed you. “Guys, bad time.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sam said. The three of you turned to leave.

Dean got one more quip in, saying, “Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway.”

“Funny, let’s go,” you deadpanned, grabbing his jacket lightly and pulling him to the door.

“Wait. I wanna know what they think about this,” Jo said.

At the sound of the creaking front door, you turned to see a family with two kids under three walking in wearing bright yellow “Nebraska is for Lovers” t-shirts.

Ellen continued to yell despite the customers that had entered. “I don't care what they think!”

The father of the two young kids cut Ellen off. “Are you guys open?”

Jo yelled, “No!” and her mother yelled, “Yes!”

The dad grimaced and shrank away. “We’ll just… check out the Arby’s down the road.”

The phone rang as the family left, and Ellen went to answer it. Jo turned to you and the brothers; her gaze mostly focused on Dean, per usual.

“Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment.” She shoved a file at Dean. Dean looked down at it strangely. “Take it, it won't bite,” she said.

“No, but your mom might,” he responded.

Jo’s lips pinched, still holding out the folder. He took it reluctantly as Jo continued explaining. “And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or—”

Dean flipped through it and cut her off. “Who put this together? Ash?"

Jo smiled proudly. “I did it myself.”

Dean hummed, impressed, and you took the folder from him. You flipped through it, secretly hoping to find holes in it somewhere, but you couldn’t at first glance. You were impressed, too, much to your chagrin.

“I gotta admit. We hit the road for a lot less,” Sam added.

“Good. You like the case so much, you take it,” Ellen stated.

“Mom!”

“Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't.”

Your gaze softened as you took in Ellen’s grief-stricken features. You could completely empathize with how that felt. And so, you and the brothers set off.

***

“I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case,” Sam said as the three of you stalked around the deceased’s apartment.

“I don’t,” you said. “Her mom’s only trying to protect her.”

“Exactly. Maybe she put together a good file,” Dean added, “but could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so.”

You pulled out your EMF meter and continued walking around the very nice apartment. “What I wouldn’t give to have one of these,” you muttered. “You getting anything?”

“No, not yet,” replied Sam. Just as he spoke, you heard his meter beeping. He leaned over to something in front of him, and you walked over.

“What's that?” you asked.

“What?” Dean came up behind you as Sam reached down to the lightswitch and lightly touched it.

“Holy crap,” the younger Winchester said.

Dean reached forward, too. “That's ectoplasm. Well, Sam, I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.”

You snickered. “Can we get through one hunt without a Ghostbusters reference, please?”

“Never.”

“Guys, focus, please,” Sam deadpanned. “I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit.”

“Alright, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls,” Dean said. You followed him out of the apartment and immediately had to cling to a wall to avoid being seen by the approaching voices. Your face fell when you realized one of the voices was Jo’s.

“It is so spacious.” Her voice was getting closer. “You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place.”

Dean stepped out suddenly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“There you are, honey,” Jo grinned, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist. You could’ve killed her. “This is my boyfriend Dean, and his buddies, Sam and (Y/N).”

“Good to meetcha,” the landlord said. “Quite a gal you've got here.”

Dean smacked her ass roughly, trying to convey his frustration to her. “Oh yeah, she's a pistol.”

“So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent,” Jo asked Dean.

“Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Heh. Great flow.”

“How'd you get in?” the landlord asked.

Dean swallowed harshly. “It was open.”

“Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?” Jo grinned back at the landlord.

“Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stuck me for the rent.”

“Well. Her loss, our gain! 'Cause if Dean-o loves it, it's good enough for me.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Dean gritted through his teeth, smacking her again.

Jo pulled out a wad of cash. “We’ll take it.”

The landlord’s eyes widened, and he immediately brought you back to the front office to get a key.

***

You paced around the lovely apartment furiously at Jo re-hijacking the hunt you’d hijacked from her.

“I’ll flip you for the sofa,” she said to you.

“Does your mom even know you’re here?” you asked.

“Told her I was going to Vegas.”

You scoffed. “She’s not stupid, She’s not gonna buy that.”

“I'm not an idiot,” Jo challenged. “I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos.”

Dean took your humorless laugh as an opportunity to jump in before you got any uglier. “You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. Shouldn't be here, either.”

“Well, I am,” she said. “So untwist your boxers and deal with it.”

“Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?” Sam questioned.

She gave a prideful smile. “Working. At the Roadhouse.”

“Hunters don’t tip that well,” Dean replied.

“Well, they aren't that good at poker, either,” she smirked.

‘Take away her immaturity, inexperience, rashness, and massive crush on Dean, I probably could be friends with her,’ you thought.

Dean’s cell phone rang. “Yeah?” He answered, still glaring at Jo. “Oh, hi, Ellen.” Dean and Jo had a furious muttered argument before he said, “I haven’t seen her” back into the phone. “Yeah, I'm sure… Absolutely.” Dean hung up, and Jo grinned cheerfully.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” you hissed at Dean. “Ellen’s gonna murder us.”

“Seriously?” Jo folded her arms at you. “You’re scared of my mom?”

“No,” you spat back. “I just don’t wanna babysit the whole time I’m trying to hunt.”

“(Y/N), stop it,” Sam warned.

“Me? This chick has a death wish, and I need to ‘stop it’?” you snarked. “I’m going to get some air.” You stomped out of the room, Dean trailing behind you.

“(Y/N), where are you going?” he asked.

“Away,” you snorted. “She’s pissing me off. I’m not hunting with her.”

He grabbed your arm. “I’m not happy, either, but what’s this really about?”

You felt caught. “What?”

“You heard me. What’s goin’ on? You’re normally the one who has to talk me off the ledge. Not the other way around,” he said.

You lowered your voice. “I don’t trust her,” you began. “I don’t trust her to have any of our backs. All she’s tried to do thus far is get in your pants and act like an immature brat.

"She has potential, sure, and she’s smart, but she’s not one of us. And I have no idea what her skillset is. She pointed a rifle at you one time; we’ve never seen her use one. She could be an awful shot. And she has no idea how to actually kill anything. She’s, what, twenty-one, twenty-two? She didn’t grow up hunting. She has no experience.

"She doesn’t belong here. And you not telling Ellen she’s here was a huge mistake. Because now, she’s our responsibility. And like I said, I’m not babysitting. If it’s between you or Sam, and her, I’m saving you and Sam every time.”

Dean smirked down at you.

“What?” you hissed.

“You’re jealous,” he said simply.

“Seriously? Did you hear anything else I said?” You crossed your arms and quirked a brow.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I did, and I agree. I’ll watch her if you’ll watch Sam, okay? No blood on your hands if something happens to her,” he replied.

You shook your head. “No, Dean, I don’t like that, either—”

Dean smirked down at you. “What, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied. “I don’t trust her.”

He chuckled. “I think you said that already.”

“Just—” you huffed. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Dean snorted. “C’mon, it’s me we’re talking about. I’ll be fine. Will you come back and be civil now?” he asked.

“No promises.”

“Okay, I guess we’re doing this, then.” He raised his pinky at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“I can’t make a pinky promise I can’t keep,” you replied.

“That’s the point. You have to, so I know you’ll be civil.” Dean looked down at you, a challenge in his eyes and a smile plastered on his face.

“But—” you tried.

“No.”

“Dean,” you groaned but locked pinkies with him nonetheless.

“See, was that so hard?” he smirked down at you.

“You can’t use my own thing against me,” you said as you headed back to the apartment. “That’s against the rules of pinky promises.”

“Oh, there’s rules now?” Dean questioned playfully.

“There are when I say there are,” you responded flippantly, opening the door to the apartment.

Jo and Sam turned to face you, and you suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable.

“Look, Jo—” you started.

“Save it. It’s fine,” she replied.

“Well, okay, then,” you mumbled, softly enough that only Dean could hear you mocking her.

Dean gave you a warning look. “(Y/N).”

“I know, I know.”

***

You sat at the table with your laptop next to Sam as Dean paced around the room. Jo had been flipping her little knife around for the last thirty minutes while she looked over the blueprints for the apartment.

“This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago,” she explained.

“Yeah? What was here before 1924?” Dean questioned.

“Nothing. Empty field.”

“So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell,” Sam added.

Jo shook her head. “I already checked. In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor.” She looked up to Dean. “Would you sit down, please?”

Dean sat hesitantly at the head of the table, eyeing Jo guardedly. “So, have you checked police reports, county death records—”

“Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing,” she said.

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Dean replied. “Could you put the knife down?”

She complied, eyeing him angrily. He glared back.

Sam huffed. “Okay! So, uh, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it.”

“Meh, unless somebody’s got a relic from an Egyptian tomb, I’m not sure a cursed object has the kind of spirit power necessary to make ectoplasm,” you said.

Jo completely ignored you. “Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?”

“Right. So. You and me, we'll take the top two floors,” Dean said firmly. “Sam and (Y/N)’ll take the bottom two.”

“We'd move faster if we split up,” the blonde tried.

“Oh, this isn't negotiable,” Dean responded.

***

You and Sam returned to the room way sooner than Dean and Jo did. The two of you found nothing of particular interest, unfortunately, and opted to just sprawl out on the couch and floor watching a rerun of Seinfeld.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Sam began, “I don’t think you’re wrong about Jo. Just… tone it down a bit. My brother’s dickish enough to her.”

You sighed. “Dean made me pinky promise I would be civil, so you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

He scoffed. “My brother made you pinky promise?”

You giggled. “I introduced him to the concept.”

“What have you done to him?” Sam chuckled sarcastically.

You shook your head. “I have no idea. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, either.”

Sam paused. “Have you… talked about it at all?”

You nodded your head from side to side as if to say, “sorta.” “I just don’t think now’s the right time. I mean, after your dad, I don’t wanna take advantage of that or him to use me as a distraction.”

He nodded in understanding. “I get it. But… I also don’t think Dean would use you.”

You shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” You paused. “How are you holding up, by the way? We haven’t had much of an opportunity to hang out one-on-one recently.”

“Honestly? Not great,” he sighed. “I’m scared, man. I don’t know what’s happening or how to stop it. And I think my dad died thinking I hate him.” Tears began to well in his eyes. “I never should’ve said those things to him.”

You got up from the floor and went to sit next to him. You reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing firmly. “If it helps at all, I think my dad died thinking the same. And that feeling goes away after a while. I think both our dads knew that despite our many, many, many issues with each other, the bottom line is, we loved each other a lot.”

He squeezed your hand back and looked at you with sad, puppy-dog eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

The door opened to reveal Dean and Jo bickering and Dean’s fist clenched around a clump of blonde hair with skin attached to it.

You giggled. “What, you hate each other that much that you ripped a piece of Jo’s hair out?”

Dean deadpanned, “No, smartass. We found this in a vent.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh. Gross.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Dean grumbled. He opened the trash can in the room and dumped it inside.

“Alright, it’s getting late,” Jo stated. “Who’s sleeping where? There’s four of us, two beds, and a couch.”

“(Y/N) and I’ll take a bed,” Dean said casually almost immediately. “Sam’ll take the other. Jo, you got the couch.”

The three of you were stunned at Dean and his adamancy.

Oh-kay,” Jo said, still shocked.

“C’mon,” Dean said, jerking his head toward one of the rooms. He picked up your duffel bags and headed off.

You followed behind, saying “Goodnight, guys,” and shut the door behind you. You tapped the sides of your thighs with your palms as you stayed firmly planted by the door.

Dean seemed to feel a little awkward, too, and blew out a breath. “Was this… uh, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah! Yeah. Sure. Why not? We’re adults. We’re friends. We can share a bed. No big.”

He chuckled. “You sure? You ramble when you’re nervous.”

“Nervous?” you laughed awkwardly. “Why would I be nervous?” He raised a brow at you, and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’ve just… I’ve never… Hunting’s lonely. Even when I did hook up, I’d leave before I fell asleep.”

Dean seemed stunned. “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, it just… felt too intimate, I guess? And I’ve never had anybody I seriously cared about that I’d want to experience that with,” you explained, sitting on the foot of the bed and kicking off your shoes.

His voice quieted considerably. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

You nodded. He seemed to understand what that meant, though both of you refused to talk about it.

Dean showered, as did you, and then you climbed into bed next to one another. The two of you seemed to have scooted to the far edges of the bed, facing away from each other. After several minutes in silence, Dean spoke up.

“(Y/N)?” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

You could feel yourself getting flustered as you shuffled over to Dean, who now laid in the center of the bed. He opened his arms and wrapped them around you, allowing you to lay on his chest. You rested your hand on his stomach, and he took in a sharp breath.

“Should’ve cleaned the pipes,” he muttered.

You scoffed. “Perv,” and moved your arm across his stomach completely. You settled into him and drifted off to the most peaceful sleep you’d had in a while.

***

The next time you awoke, you felt arms around you, and you tensed. It took you a second to remember Dean was sleeping soundly next to you. His arms held tighter when he felt you shift, and you turned your face toward his. You smiled sadly at his beautiful, peaceful face, knowing this hunt would be the only time for quite a while that you’d get to wake up to him. You closed your eyes and nuzzled back into him, only to feel him groan above you; beginning to awaken.

“Morning,” he said. His sleepy voice was incredibly attractive. His arms didn’t move from around you.

A smile spread across your face. “G’morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Great, actually,” he admitted. He almost looked sad and regretful as he looked down at you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You’re confusing me again,” Dean said.

You looked away from him, understanding. Your face fell, too. “You’re confusing me, too.”

“I want to… be more to you so bad,” he began, “but I can’t. I’m tired, (Y/N). I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of this job, I’m tired of dealing with my dad, I’m tired of… all of it.”

“I know,” you said. “So, what do you want us to do? Do you— Do you want me to leave?”

“No, god, no,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what I want.”

You snorted. “Well, what is it you don’t want? Why don’t we start there?”

He considered for a moment. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won’t,” you immediately said.

“Will you let me finish?”

“Sorry.”

He sighed. “I don’t wanna name and claim anything right now. I don’t wanna be just your best friend, but I also— I don’t think I can—” Dean paused and took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t be able to give you what I want to give you right now. I can’t be what you deserve.”

“Dean,” you said. “This is a very low-pressure situation. I know you and I can’t go there right now. I know that. And… I want to, too. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about… anybody else.” You swallowed tensely, not sure if you’d said too much. “I— I want you to heal. And I know you’re tired. And I know it’s awful. And I hope that one day, I can make things better for you. But I also know that you have to fix you first. But until then, we can just be us. I won’t initiate anything. I need you to come to me when you’re ready. And until then, we’ll just be you and me.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

You smiled softly. “Always.”

***

After you and Dean talked things over a bit, you learned from Sam that another girl had died. Dean was off to investigate the room while you, Sam, and Jo researched. Jo wouldn’t look at you with anything but disgust after you spent the night with Dean. Her schoolgirl-ish crush was beginning to really just annoy you more than make you jealous.

Dean burst through the door. “Teresa Ellis, Apartment 2F. Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn.”

“And her apartment?” Jo questioned.

“Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling. There was ectoplasm, too.”

“Well, between that and that tuft of hair, I'd say this sucker's coming from the walls,” Sam added.

“But who is it? Building's history is totally clean,” Dean reminded you.

There were various pictures and blueprints from Jo’s file spread across the table between you, Sam, and Jo. You picked up a picture of the field where the apartments now stood. Next to it was a building with bars on its windows. “Check this out. We’re next door to a prison.”

“Nice going, (Y/N),” Sam grinned.

Jo pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Ash—”

“No,” you shook your head, standing. “Let me figure this one out. Something about this is sounding really familiar to me, and it’s gonna bother me if I’m not the one to nail it down.”

“And what a shame that would be,” Jo snarked.

You glared at her as you continued to pace around the room. “Blonde hair, in the walls, prison, field, Philadelphia…” you murmured to yourself. You repeated it over and over to yourself until something struck you. “H. H. Holmes,” you breathed. “Holy shit.”

“What? What about him?” Sam questioned, straightening in his seat.

“That was his whole thing! He was really, and I mean, really into blondes— though, he’d kill just about anybody— had his whole ‘murder castle’ thing in Chicago, and the feds tracked him all the way to Boston. They brought him back to Philly, and he was hanged. Hence, field. Fields next to old prisons were almost always used for hangings,” you explained.

“What do you mean, ‘murder castle’?” Jo questioned. “And how do you know all this?”

“I like true crime,” you shrugged. “He built all these fake walls, fake hallways; his place was a fucking maze. Acid vats, trap doors, quicklime pits all up in his basement— although most of that was probably sensationalized— but anyway, this guy was a complete freak. ‘Multi-murderer’ was first used to describe him before they knew what serial killers were. He confessed to twenty-seven murders, but he probably killed over a hundred. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill his victims.”

Dean nodded, “Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night.”

“At his place,” you continued, “cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair.”

Dean snickered at Jo. “Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em.”

“Well, we just find the bones, salt 'em and burn 'em, right?” she said, anxiously.

“Nope. His body’s in town encased in a couple tons of concrete,” you responded.

“What, why?” she asked.

“Didn’t want anybody fuckin’ with his corpse. ‘Cause, y’know, that’s what he did,” you cringed.

“Wait, (Y/N), that means Teresa could still be alive. Inside the walls,” Sam added.

You nodded. “Yeah. Poor girl.”

“We need sledgehammers, crowbars. We've got to smash these walls; anywhere thick enough to hide a girl,” Dean barked out, hurriedly moving around the apartment.

***

You went with Sam, and Dean went with Jo as he promised you he would. Sam couldn’t get too far into the crawl-spaces of the walls, and you insisted on pressing forward. If you could get through, then the space was big enough to hide a girl.

“(Y/N), holler if you need, okay?” Sam called to you.

“I’m good, dude, I promise. But you do the same.” You continued to wriggle through winding, claustrophobia-inducing corridors till you came face to face with the man himself; H. H. Holmes. Although, this version of the famed serial killer was a lot more gray, decayed, and gaunt than the one you’d seen in pictures. You screamed, “Sam!” before the world went dark.

***

You next awoke in a box that eerily mirrored a coffin; it was made of wood and just big enough for you to lay down in. You pointed your flashlight up at the ceiling to see long, deep, bloodied gashes in the wood; presumably nail marks. You huffed out a shaky breath, collecting yourself, when you noticed a slit in the wood to your right. A noise startled your already shaken mind, and you heard Jo say, “Hello?” You refused to talk, worried that it would upset Holmes even more.

You heard another woman’s voice coming from a different part of the room. “Is- Is anybody there?”

Jo continued talking. “Your name's Teresa? This won't make you feel better, but I'm here to rescue you.”

“Oh, god. He's out there; he's gonna kill us!” Teresa cried.

“No, he won't. We're getting out,” Jo insisted. “My friends are looking for us; they'll find us.”

Footsteps fell eerily nearby, and you could vaguely make out something approaching you.

“Oh, god, he's here!” Teresa sobbed.

“Shh! Just be quiet!” Jo scolded.

‘So much for being quiet, Jo,’ you thought. The next thing you heard was Jo screaming in pain, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from calling out to her.

You took a knife out of your belt and began hacking at the wall. You kicked with all your might until you finally started to break through a little. Suddenly, a man’s mouth appeared at the opening you were making in the wood.

“You're so pretty. So beautiful,” the spirit cooed, reaching in your cell to stroke your cheek. You cringed and turned away, groaning in disgust. You turned back and stabbed it with your knife, the spirit crying out before disappearing again. You went back to kicking and hacking at the door with even more force than before. At long last, the paneling came loose, and you laughed in relief. You pried the rest of the paneling away from the wall and rolled out onto the floor, catching yourself before you toppled over completely. When you stood and dusted off your hands, Holmes appeared behind you and clasped a hand over your mouth. You kicked and struggled against him, screaming behind his hand muffling you. You wrestled with him a bit more before the spirit suddenly let you go. He disappeared completely when you heard a gunshot go off.

“(Y/N)!” Dean ran into the room, holding a shotgun.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Holy shit, I’m so happy to see you.” You ran to him and wrapped your arms around him.

“Um, little help, here!” Jo said from her box.

You ran to the wall next to her and picked up a crowbar lying nearby. You began prying the cell open, groaning strenuously as you did so. When it finally released, you helped Jo down. “You okay?” you asked her.

“Been better. Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back,” she answered.

“I’m not leaving here just yet,” you said.

“(Y/N), no—” Dean protested firmly. He seemed to understand what you were doing.

“What other plan do you have, Dean?” “Wait, what’s going on here?” Jo questioned.

“(Y/N)’s gonna use herself as bait,” he explained.

“What, would you rather Jo be bait? I don’t think so,” you said flippantly. “Now, get them out of here.” You gestured to Sam to help a frightened Teresa and Jo out of the room.

***

You sat in the center of the room completely unmoving. You sat cross-legged, breathing evenly. You’d learned long ago how to steel yourself to these situations. You grinned slightly when Holmes began to approach you. When he got very close, Dean yelled, “Now!” and Sam and Dean began shooting the bags of salt you’d strung up to the ceiling to create a perfect circle of salt around the spirit. You ran out of the circle, leaving Holmes trapped inside. He wailed and growled at you, running around the salt circle pathetically.

“Scream all you want, you dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt!” you laughed coldly.

You and the brothers climbed back up out of the sewer and closed the grate, fully silencing Holmes’ howls.

***

“So? This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?” Sam asked Jo as the three of you stood over the top of the closed sewer..

“Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. Sure. But that Teresa girl's gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?” Jo replied.

You nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

“Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there, or a storm washes the salt away?” she questioned.

Sam chuckled. “Both very fine points. Which is why we're waiting here.”

“For what?”

As if on cue, you heard the beeping of a large truck backing up. You grinned over your shoulder at Dean backing up the cement truck he’d stolen, and motioned for him to stop when the spout lined up over the sewer’s entrance.

Dean got out of the cab and came to stand next to you.

“You ripped off a cement truck?” Jo scoffed.

“We’ll give it back,” you shrugged. You turned a lever on the side of the truck and watched the cement pour down into the entrance.

“Well, that oughta keep him down there till hell freezes over,” Dean grinned.

***

As you and the brothers were heading out with Jo in tow, Ellen appeared at the entrance of the apartments, intense anger bubbling just under the surface. You and the boys cringed at the sight of her.

“Mom—” Jo began.

“Not now.”

She forced the five of you to ride back to the Roadhouse in complete silence. Ellen sat in the front seat, staring blankly ahead, and you were sandwiched between Jo and Sam in the back.

Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Boy, you– you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?”

“You told her?!” you couldn’t help but blurt out.

Ellen scowled at you in the rearview mirror. You shrunk under her gaze.

“How about we listen to some music?” Dean flicked the radio on. Ellen immediately reached forward and flicked the radio off.

You looked up to Dean, who looked back to you.

“This is gonna be a long drive,” he muttered.

***

Ellen dragged her daughter into the Roadhouse by her elbow, and you and the brothers followed closely.

“Ellen? This is my fault. Okay?” Dean tried. “I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud.”

Ellen whipped around, angrily commanding, “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughter. Alone.”

The three of you left and loitered around in silence for the next few minutes. Jo stormed out of the Roadhouse soon after, tossing a glance to Dean to incentivize him to follow her.

“That bad, huh?” he asked as he walked after her.

“Not right now.”

“What happened? Hey, talk to me.” He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Jo immediately jerked her arm out of Dean's grasp. “Get off me!”

“Sorry. See you around,” he said, turning back to you and Sam.

“Dean,” Jo’s broken voice called.

He turned back to the blonde.

“It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone; this guy did too, but,” she swallowed her forming tears, “I guess my father figured he could trust him. Mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed.”

The older brother’s face scrunched up. “What does this have to do with—”

“It was your father, Dean.”

Dean scoffed. “What?”

“Why do you think John never came back? Never told you about us? Because he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that, that's why,” Jo spat.

“Jo—” Dean tried.

“Just... just get out of here. Please, just leave.”

The three of you did as Jo asked. You headed back to Bobby’s to regroup and find yourselves another hunt. Dean was silent on the multi-hour-long drive back. When you stopped at Bobby’s house, Sam went inside. Dean stayed seated in his car, and you stayed with him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He scoffed. “ ‘What’s wrong’? Did you hear anything Jo said?”

“I did, I just wanted to see what’s goin’ on in your head,” you replied, unfazed by his attitude.

He shook his head and sighed. “If Ellen hated my dad so much and didn’t trust us at all, then why the fuck would she have called my dad in the first place?”

You nodded, getting out of the car; followed by Dean. “Yeah, I don’t get it,” you agreed. “She wants to get involved with your personal family shit and the demon and let us bunk at her place, and then bring up old crap you and Sam weren’t even a part of? I mean, I get that John did something that got ‘im killed, but I really don’t see how that’s your fault.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled. “At least we don’t have to babysit anymore.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess. But you don’t have to pretend you’re not bothered by it. I know you are.”

He scoffed.

“Dean. I know you are. And I also know that I trust you with my life. And you know I don’t trust easily. You are not your father.” You walked up the steps into Bobby’s house, leaving Dean in the junkyard to mull over your words.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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nightxcreature · 4 months ago

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Roadhouse Rendezvous

Summary: Reader and Dean have a little fun in the Roadhouse Bathroom.

A/N: Number 3? For @jacklesversebingo 2024! I’m having so much fun writing these, I hope you enjoy this one! This is for the prompt, “I’ll give you $50 to forget what you just saw.” Prompt is in bold.

Warnings: Slight Smut, sexual innuendos for sure, cursing because I like that, caught in the act

My hands were lost in the flannel around his torso, pulling him hard against me as his tongue danced between my lips. His right hand was wrapped tightly around my throat causing the silver ring on his finger to cut deliciously into my skin. The irony of Ten Seconds to Love by Mötley Crüe playing on the jukebox out front isn’t lost on me when he suddenly shrugs off the flannel and shoves me against the door.

“Want you so bad, Baby.” He mumbles against my lips, the hand formerly around my throat making its way to the hem of my shirt, “Need you.”

I gasp as he nips my neck, slowly running his tongue over the sting, “Take me.”

A guttural groan leaves his lips and his kisses me deeply. I feel a tap on my arm as he instructs me to lift them above my head and my shirt soon finds itself on the floor. His big hands cup my breast and I can’t stop the moan that leaves me, “Hurry, Dean. I don’t have long before Jo realizes I’m gone.”

“She can run the bar alone for a while.” He mumbles into my neck as he reaches around to unhook my bra, “You’ve taught her well enough.”

I gasp again as he lifts me into his arms, placing my back against the door, “Besides,” he starts, a shit-eating grin on his face, “I want to take my time and enjoy this meal. It’s not everyday that I get to fuck my girl in her mom’s bar.” He winks and drops to his knees, sliding the skirt up my legs as he places them on his shoulders.

My hands find themselves in his hair at the feeling of his breath against my core and I slam my eyes shut, “Please.” I whisper.

I hear the chuckle before I feel him shake his head, “Oh, she’s beggin’ now? I thought you had to get back to work?”

With a roll of eyes I shove his face into me and he groans loudly as I snap, “Shut up and eat me.”

“Yes, ma’am” He says with a smile, reaching up my skirt to pull my panties aside, “Gladly…”

He slowly lowers his lips to my entrance when suddenly the toilet in one of the stalls flushes. I rush to jump off of him while he slams into the counter to grab his gun.

“Where the fuck is my shirt?!” I whisper yell, “I thought you scoped this bathroom out before bringing me in here!”

He shrugs sheepishly and hands me my shirt from where it fell under the counter, “The place is dead, who was gonna be in here?!”

I slip my shirt on just before Ash steps out of the stall, “Hey, I’m all for a little lovin’, but I think you ladies should find a room. Preferably, not a public restroom.”

I roll my eyes again and sigh, “Ash, I’ll pay you $50 to forget what you just saw.”

He gives me a shrug and turns to Dean, “And you?”

“And me, what?”

“Listen, my tall, handsome friend, $50 may cover what I did or did not see, but I’m going to need a little extra to cover the things I heard.”

The blush heating my neck is slowly making its way up my face and I could melt into the floor when he quotes back to us, “‘I want to take my time and enjoy this meal’ Really? It isn’t everyday you get to fuck your girl in her mom’s bar, and it won’t be today either if I happen to go out there and slip up to Ellen.”

Dean digs $100 out of his wallet and places it in Ash’s hand, “Just forget we were ever in here.”

“Oh, this moment will live in my nightmares forever. But I won’t tell anyone what I saw, your secrets are always safe with Dr. Bad-Ass.” He says with a wink, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a pretty lady waiting on me in my office.”

“Your fucking computer doesn’t count!” I yell as he bows out the door with a laugh, “How fuckin’ embarrassing.”

Dean snorts and I hear Jo yelling for help as the Roadhouse regulars start rolling in, “Get out there,” he says smacking my ass and pushing me toward the door, “I’ll steal ya on your break and we can do it in the parking lot.”

I grin and kiss his lips as I head out the door and behind the bar, “Your usual, Bobby?”

——-————————————————————————

A/N: A fun one for Jacklesverse Bingo! I’m working on Part 2 of Don’t call Me and should hopefully have it out tomorrow! 🫶🏼

Taglist: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @k-slla

#jacklesversebingo24 #supernatural #spn fanfic #spnfandom #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester x you #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #spn smut #spn

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gamblersdoll · 10 months ago

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lets give a warm welcome..

“fuck! you like that mama..?” he moans into your ear, mouth breathing on your ear lobe. “im so so close, mamas..” he whines, hips stuttering and frantic.

you moan and arch into his body, nibbling and biting at his neck and collarbone. hes hitting that gummy spot, and hes so needy he’s gotten so handsy all over your body.

he soon spills his load inside you, whimpering into the crook of your neck and relaxing his body to you. eventually after what felt for eternity, he took a warm rag to your seedy pussy, wiping away the cum he loaded you up with. “too warm?” he asks, looking down at you through lidded eyes. you shook your head, reassuring him it was just fine.

he walked into the bathroom, and you looked to his silhouette. he was a work made by gods, such a broad back with hips of a man like no other. he washed his hands under the sink, briefly. “anything you want to eat, sweetheart?” he lowly asks, looking to you.

“hmm… how about.. texas roadhouse?” you ask, craving those butter rolls and the butter the happen to have. you watch him nod, pulling a black hoodie over his head and kisses yours.

“thank you, choso.”

welcome home, choso kamo.

#jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk leaks #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso my beloved #choso fluff #choso x black!reader #dvorahsresidency

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r0seb100d · 1 month ago

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hi!! Could you do a Dallas winston x reader fic where Dallas had a bad day and/ or just isn't doing the best mentally and the reader has to comfort him?

Hii! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy <3 🤍

Warnings: fem!reader, slightly ooc Dallas.

You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are

When you're lying in my arms

Glancing down at her watch, y/n noted that Dallas was now forty minutes late for the date he had promised her just the night before. She stood at her bedroom window, peeking through the blinds, hoping to see him pull up in Buck’s car with a damn good reason for making her sit around for him all dressed up with her hair and makeup done perfectly, which happened to be a rare occurrence, and she’d be pissed if it all went to waste.

Dallas was supposed to have picked her up at twelve and driven her down to the dingo to get lunch and then head to the cinema to see the movie they had bought tickets for.

It was now far too late to go get food, so even if he deigned to show up now, they would have to rush to make it on time for the movie. The whole situation irritated her deeply. Not even a call to say he was late or that something unexpected had come up. Nothing. Y/n felt pathetic as she stared blankly at her walls, deciding enough was enough.

Perhaps Dallas had gotten it mixed up and was waiting to meet her there? No, that was ridiculous; he knew she didn’t drive, and it would be a good thirty-minute walk from her house. He had never once stooped that low; in fact, he always insisted on driving her everywhere. Buck’s cursing meant nothing to him; Dallas enjoyed driving her around, and he hoped to one day save up enough to buy his own car so they could drive wherever and whenever together.

Slipping on her red kitten heels, y/n stormed down the stairs, anger fueling each determined step.

She twisted the keys harshly in the lock and marched her way over to the roadhouse, not caring how she looked to others. Suddenly, a twisted thought burrowed its way into her mind, infecting her with a deep feeling of dread. What if he was simply sick of her? Maybe he was cheating. After all, what else could he be so preoccupied with at the moment? Y/n tried to calm herself down; she was working herself up over nothing. Dallas had never once given her any reason to believe those thoughts; they were simply insecurities taking over.

She held her breath as she stepped into the bar, heading straight upstairs. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Despite knowing better, those horrible thoughts still lingered, leaving a burning, hollow pit in her stomach.

Knocking once at his door, she stood helplessly in front of his room, clutching the straps of her purse for dear life. When there was no response, she knocked again. Still nothing.

She was about to give up when she heard shuffling sounds coming from inside, so she knocked once more.

“Fuck off man. I already told ya I’m not in the mood for cards right now.”

So he was there after all. Talking about playing cards with some randos when he had left her to wait like that

“Dallas?”

Her voice was stone cold, not giving away any of her emotions; she refused to let him have that control.

He remained silent, and this infuriated her.

“I’m coming in whether you like it or not.”

Turning the handle, y/n pushed the door open and stepped inside only to be met with a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke filling her lungs.

She waved her arms around and covered her mouth, coughing as the smoke filled her lungs.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Most of the smoke had diffused into the corridor, and y/n was able to get a better look at the room.

Countless beer cans and whiskey bottles were scattered all over the floor, a danger hazard for anyone trying to safely walk in there, and the room was messier than it ever had been.

Then there was Dallas, sitting shirtless on his bed with a cigarette hanging limply between his lips, with a faraway drunken look on his face.

He glanced over at her, taking in her doll-like appearance, and mentally punched himself for being such an asshole.

“Shit, doll, I’m so sorry; I completely forgot. I lost track of time, and I—”

His words were slurred, and her nose was scrunched up, not from disgust but from unease. This was the last thing she had expected, to walk in here and find him looking so… defeated.

“What? So you’ve just been drinking in here all day? I’ve been waiting for you, but clearly you’re busy, so call me when you actually make an effort to remember our plans.”

Y/n had already begun to turn and leave, but she heard Dallas release an unsteady breath.

She immediately spun around and looked at him properly for the first time today and felt all her anger dissipate as she noticed something. He was crying. He had been crying.

She took slow, cautious steps, like approaching a feral animal, and sat carefully at the foot of his bed.

“Dal? What’s wrong?”

She had never seen him like this. Furious? Sure. But never this sad.

“The fuck is wrong with me?”

He rubbed his face with agitation and avoided making eye contact with her. He felt so vulnerable and weak; it was embarrassing.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft. “Nothing is wrong with you. What happened?

She dropped her bag on the floor and crawled over to him, still keeping a slight distance in case he wanted some space. When he didn’t back away, she pulled his head onto her chest and stroked his hair with one hand, wiping his tears with the other.

Dallas wrapped his big arms around her middle, silent tears staining her shirt.

“I don’t know; I’ve just been feeling like shit, think the alcohol made it worse.”

He let out a dry chuckle.

“It’s okay, just relax; when you want to talk, I’ll be right here.”

She continued grazing her nails soothingly over his scalp, hoping to relieve some of his tension.

“Just, call me next time, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry bout that; I know we paid for those, and you were lookin’ forward to goin’ out.”

She immediately sat up, turning his face to meet hers.

“Dal, that’s not what I meant at all. I don’t give a damn about tickets or money. I care about you. If you’re sitting up here feeling like shit, I want to know, even if you just call to tell me you need the afternoon to get better, okay? I don’t want to be getting all annoyed for nothing, especially when you don’t deserve it. You’ve been so good to me, and being upset doesn’t make you weak; don’t hide.

He gazed up at her with a look so soft it was almost unreal.

“I love you doll.”

“I love you too.”

When he didn’t rest his head back against her chest and lay somewhat awkwardly, she let out a playful huff, laughing.

“Oh come here and quit being a stubborn ass.”

Dallas could only laugh back, feeling happy for the first time this afternoon.

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mommaudders12 · 1 month ago

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Here's something a little new. How about a wolverine x reader! Why not!? This one was written for a friend!

Logan/wolverine x reader

NSFW!!! No one under 18, plez.

Warnings: public s3x, s3x in general, casually funny smut

You've been invited to go out to eat with a few of the x men crew! Who knew Logan had such a good sense of smell, though?

You're not sure how, but you've managed to get yourself befriended by a few x men. One thing led to another at a pizza joint with a claw machine and a specific red and white haired mutant, and now you're an honorary x men... minus being a mutant. You just like hanging out with them when they're free. Kurt even invited you to dinner with them tonight! Your phone is pinging and buzzing from the group chat being blown up from Jean and Scott arguing over which restaurant to go to.

Jean: you know, it's been a while since we've been to a Japanese steakhouse.

Scott: the last time we went to a steakhouse, I got salmonella!

Jean: who in their right mind asks for their shrimp to be raw?

Scott: everything else on the sushi bar is raw!

Your eyes roll while you type out a message to the group chat.

You: ok, yall, what about applebees.... or Texas roadhouse. I've seen Kurt absolutely destroy some baskets of bread from roadhouse.

Kurt: ich mag brot 🤤

You let out a chortle at his quick response. That boy does like some bread.

After a bit of arguing and a few more ridiculous remarks from Scott, everyone decided on the tex-Mex joint down the street. They also have a very nice bar with beer on tap and an endless selection of mixers. Who doesn't like a tall glass of Corona and unlimited chips and salsa! You have around two hours to relax and slowly get ready until you have to meet them there. The closet door creaks as you open it to find a cute outfit. The restaurant isnt fancy, but you still would like to look nice.

A corset tie in the back baby blue sundress catches your eye, so you snatch it and kick through the pile of shoes at your feet to find the white flats that you normally wear with it. Now the question is- steak quesadilla or Supreme nachos?

By the time you get to the restaurant, everyone had already been seated. Guess it does take longer than ten minutes to get there.... woops. You shuffle over to the group and plop down in the chair next to Logan. He gives you a once over and nods before taking a swig of his drink.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm a little late! I forgot how far away this place was."

"No problem, hun, we just sat down. Glad you're here!" Jean lifts her glass of freshly poured water in your direction as she speaks.

They had already brought out drinks and a basket of chips and salsa. You know she was just saying that to make you feel better. You hang your purse on the back of your chair and adjust your sun dress at the top where the fabric had bunched up from sitting. From the corner of your eye, you see Logan slightly Watching your every move from over his drink.

"I saw on the news yesterday what happened at that barn. I can't believe they had five mutants hidden there! I didn't even know mutants could be half animal like that!"

Kurt lifts his finger to politely intervene.

"There are many types of mutants. For instance, I am... vell, demon. Logan has animalistic tendencies, hank is-"

You listen intently as your slim, blue friend goes on about different types of mutants. Very intrigued, you lift a leg up to cross it over the other while leaning into the table to prop your elbows against it. Logan lifts his head from his glass and seems to freeze in place as his nose twitches. He clears his throat and adjusts in his chair, almost leaning back and sinking into it.

"- mutations can even be passes down and intermingled together from breeding as vell! Say an animal type mutant made child with a-"

"Ooook, I think we get the point, Kurt, thank you." Scott interrupts.

By that time, the waiter has come to take everyone's order. You completely forgot about going over the menu. You quickly grab the menu and scan over it while the others place their orders.

"Nothin' for me." Logan waves his hand and beings his drink back up to his lips, seemingly attempting to keep himself distracted.

"And you, miss?"

Eenie meanie miney- THIS ONE.

"Uuuuh may I have the.... Supreme burrito? Extra green peppers, no beans-"

You lean in to the waiter pointing to something on the menu, dropping your crossed leg to the floor, legs slightly apart to keep you balanced while you lean. You hear Logan let in a few soft inhales as well as huff. He turns his head away from the group and clears his throat before adjusting again in his seat.

"Oh! And extra sour cream too, please!"

The waiter finishes scribbling in his notepad before making his way back to the kitchen. You slide yourself back into your chair from half cheeking it to talk to the waiter. Your skirt is a little bunched up so you sit up a little bit and adjust it along with fixing your rolled up thong straps on your hips.

"Ey, Logan, you good bud?" Scott cocks an eye in Logans direction, motioning with his glass of sweet tea.

Logan just grunts, taking another large swig of whatever type of IPA he was drinking. He runs his hand across his sideburns and down to his chin before covering his mouth with his hand. His eyes are so dilated that they seem to be black holes in the sockets. His large boot taps gently on the wooden floor just enough to catch your attention. You look down at his foot and see his other hand having a death grip on his knee, almost to keep it from wondering. The veins in his arms seem to throb from under his rolled up flannel sleeves. Why is that kind of hot, though? Your cheeks flush slightly seeing him in that fashion. The conversation around you begins to fade as you watch Logan intently.

Every move you make draws a new movement from Logan, making his slowly come undone- and you have caught on. He is slowly losing his mind because of you. You have had your eyes on the weasel man for a while, so might as well have some fun, right? Starting slowly, you put one hand on your leg and draw it up, bringing the skirt with it until the hem of your dress is almost touching right below your panties. Doing so causes logans breath to hitch, grabbing at his belt area to readjust. Bro is bricked up! You can see the outline of his member along his jeans. You tighten your legs as a heat builds in your neithers watching Logan come undone surrounded by your closest friends- and they are all oblivious as to what is happening. You will be surprised if the chair you are sitting in isn't soaked by the time you stand up.

The chatter continues as you keep edging Logan on in secret. Adjusting your leg, you uncross them and spread your knees apart, biting your lip. A fist hits the table, causing the cups to jump and Kurt to choke on a salsa covered chip.

"JESUS- Logan, the hell is your problem today!?" Scott scolds Logan while slapping Kurt's back attempting to get the lodged chip out if his esophagus.

With a snarl, Logan stands up with his empty mega pint and makes his way to the bar. You turn to the group and shrug. Kurt is now chugging his water after getting the chip dislodged. Guess the fun is over. But now you really have to pee.

"Be right back, don't eat my burrito if it comes before I get back!" Getting a chuckle out of the group as you stand up.

You begin to make your way to the ladies room, taking the long way, just do you could walk past Logan one more time to get in another tease. Walking past him, you give his side a slight pinch as you walk by. A strong hand grabs your wrist, causing you to freeze. A second hand grabs your waste, pushing your stomach into the bar and pinning you in place. Logan brings his head up next to your ear.

"You... little... bitch."

Logan brings his nose to your neck and breathes in as much of your scent as he could.

"I could smell you. I could smell you as soon as you sat down. Fucking around with me while you're fertile"

Oh shit, you forgot you were ovulating. The period tracker said you were, at least. Well, shit on a brick-

"I can already smell how wet you are for me."

His large calloused hand made his way from your hand down to your thigh, tugging at your skirt.

"Wait, Logan, i-"

The grip on your side tightens as he pushes you against the bar, leg between your leg to keep you pinned.

"Sssshshsh. Too late for negotiations, bub. I'm gonna fuck you into this damn bar. Buttering me up, in front of the others, wearing this little dress?"

The hand on your skirt begins bunching at the hem, bringing it up just below your ass.

"Logan, there's people, we cant-"

Don't lie to yourself, you want this. You're a slut. Ya know what, time to play.

Logan growls into your neck doing his absolute best to not burst in his pants. You smirk to yourself and bend over the counter a little more, making your ass scuff against his hardened length in his pants.

"Butter you up? I don't know what you're talking about~"

You stand up on your toes to try to line up to him, still pretending to be oblivious. Logan growls into your ear, giving a slight nip.

"You're such a little whore. Acting all clueless when I know damn well you want your pussy pounded into this bar in front of all of these people-"

You chuckle to yourself, feeling Logan hurrily bunch up your skirt higher, exposing your ass. He leans back while still holding onto your hip to get a look at you. A low rumble in his chest eminates from him as he brings a large hand down and grabs a handful of your ass.

"Of course you would be wearing these little panties just for me-"

I mean, not really, they were cute but just roll with it! Stay in character!

"Oh this is so embarrassing, everyone is going to see~"

He leans back into you and whispers in your ear.

"You better keep quiet. Shut the fuck up and take it-"

"Ma'am did you want to order something?"

Your eyes shoot up to see a very oblivious barista that just got back from his break.

"Oh! Uh... im-"

Logan stands up straight, still with a fistful of your skirt in his hand.

"Gimme a shot of grey goose."

He sounds so stoic.

"What about you, princess?"

You can feel a smirk spread across his lips as he leans against the bar beside you, still latched onto your skirt allowing your bare ass to be open to whoever is seated behind you.

"I... um... I'm not-"

You feel the hand holding your skirt up drop the hem while sliding along your hip to your front, slinking along your panty line above your pubic bone. Your breath hitches as you look at the mixer menu. You pretend to scan over the menu as a large hand slides under your panties and starts drawing circles around your clit. Logan, with his shit eating grin, leans further onto the bar to make eye contact with you.

"Go on, bub, tell the man what you'd like~"

Your knees buckle as he hits just the right spot, drawing an 'ah' out of you.

"Aah- aaaaiiiii would like a- nnh- tequila sunrise p-please."

The barista cocks an eyebrow at you, shrugs, and walks away to make your drink. Logan chortles and makes his way back behind you still rubbing circles on your clit. His hand dips down to his belt, unbuckling it with one hand and sliding his jeans down just far enough to let his member bounce out, hitting his stomach with a thwack.

"Here's the goose-"

The barista sets the glass down on the table beside you. He goes back to his cabinet to start on your drink.

You can practically feel logans heart pounding from behind you as he uses your slick to coat his cock and line up with your pussy. He slides into you slowly as the barista comes back with your drink.

"And the tequila sunrise. Let me know if you need anything else."

You give him a thumbs up as he walks away.

"Go on, drink your fruity little drink."

His voice had a hint of a mocking tone. He picks up his shot and throws it back before slapping it back on the counter. You pick up your drink and go to take a sip when he bucks into you, causing a little to splash on the table.

"Ah fuck-"

You exclaimed. Both from spilling your drink and from being surprise drilled by logans massive crank.

"Sssshshsh. Wouldn't want anyone to hear, now would we? Just drink your drink and be a good little slut-"

You nod and attempt to act casual while Logan pumps into you. With a mix of lip biting and drink sipping, you finally finish your drink. Logan gives you one hard thrust, causing you to drop the glass and let out a rather loud 'ah'

"Ah, Logan!"

The burning in your nethers begins to become too much for you to take. You lean farther over the bar, almost lifting yourself off the ground.

"Thaaats it, atta girl. Let me use you."

You two aren't trying to hide it anymore. By this time your little sun dress is hikes up above your hips and your slick drips onto the ground while Logan thrusts into you like a dog in heat. Logan catches the eye of a group of men in the corner, elbowing eachother and motioning to the two of you. With a snarl and growl, Logan unsheaths his adimantium claws with a shck, causing the group of men to go silent. Seeing the men watching the two of you sends Logan into a territorial rage. You're his game now, you belong to him and no one else. He grabs onto a handful of hair and pulls back forcing you to look up at him.

"Fuck being quiet. I want this whole damn bar to know that you belong to me-"

"Wait, but, Lo- Ah!"

One hard thrust takes your breath away, pulling your thoughts along with it.

"You heard me, slut, now say my name. Say the name of the one you belong to."

He uses your hair to pull you back onto his throbbing cock, drawing more ah ah ahs out of you.

"Ah! Aaah, Logan-"

"Yes, that's my girl, louder"

"Logan!"

His thrusts begin to grow sloppy as he reaches a climax. The ruckus of the bar is drowned out by your squeals and one by one, the bar patrons turn to look.

"Oh god, I'm so close! I'm gonna-"

Logan latches on to your neck with his canines as he ruts sloppily into you before letting his load go into your womb. Both of your slick mix together inside of you and slides down your leg onto the hard wood floor. Both of you huff and puff, attempting to catch your breath while the few people that had been watching you turn back around, besides the older gentleman in the corner who starts to clap and holler "encore!"

With one last huff and a firm slap to the ass, Logan slides out of you and slips his member into his pants in a single motion. Your skirt falls messily back into place as you slide off of the bar onto your shakey feet, slick seeping down your leg and onto your slides.

Logan turns you around by your shoulders and moves your stray hairs out of your face and behind your ear. He pulls you into himself and snarls as the barista walks back up to your side of the bar.

"Soooo uh.... sorry to cut in, but... would you like to close your tab?"

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #wolverine smut

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fandomtherapy44 · 6 months ago

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Behind the roadhouse Dean x reader

Summary: Y/n has a bit of a crush on Dean but there's kind of a problem. He's a Winchester

paring: Dean x reader

WC:3,081

Warnings: Language, SMUT 18+

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Monsters- Vampires, werewolves,ghouls and those aren't even the scary parts of my life. Try to deal with creepy men while working at a bar. Not just any bar, a hunter's bar, my family's bar. My mom Ellen Harville is one of the most badass women you'll ever meet and one of the toughest people but a loving mom. My little half-sister Jo is the other most important person in my life. Well, she’s twenty four so not so little but she will always be to me. My Mom had me with a random hookup she had when she was younger, told him and he took off so when I met Bill I was hesitant but then he became the best father that I ever got and I got a little sister out of the deal too. But then he died in a hunter accident so my mom forbade Jo and I not to hunt but then two sons walked into the bar and a particular Winchester got me not just enthralled with helping people from monsters but in him.

I was wiping down the bar when two tall handsome strangers walked in. “Hey there, welcome to the roadhouse. What can I do for you to get information, a drink, or both?” I finished with a smile mainly focusing on the blonde one. What can I say? I'm a sucker for green eyes. He gives me a flashing smile. “Hey there…” “Y/n” “Y/n, we’re looking for Ellen Harville do you know her?” “I better she’s my mom I’ll be right back.” They both look at each other in confusion. I walk back to the little kitchen. “Hey Mom, two guys are here looking for you.” She gets up and follows me back to them. “Hey there fellows I heard you're looking for me.”

“Uh yeah we’re John Winchester's sons and we got your call.” And the rest flew by so quickly. Ash helped Sam to look up information on the case and while that happened Dean and I had a talk. I poured him a drink and slid it to him. “What’s this for?” I shrugged while sipping a coke. “For your Dad, I'm sorry for your loss.” He took it and shot it back like it was water. “Thanks, you sound like you know the pain.” “My dad passed when I was thirteen so I know how it feels.” My heart panged with pain a little like it did every time I thought of my Dad. “Oh well, I'm sorry for you too, cheers to our dad’s.” We raise our glasses and I'm left with a thought that Dean Winchester doesn't seem like a bad guy.

After that, Sam and Dean would visit us whenever they could and when they needed info. Dean’s and I’s relationship just grew and grew with every late-night talk, pool game, and drink. And it was scaring the shit out of me. I was closing up the bar and Dean and I were having another one of our talks. “Burger or hotdog?” he asks me. “Uh hotdog, is there any other choice.” I playfully responded. “What do you mean hotdog crazy lady?” “So I'm assuming your burger.” I leaned down to his level and he gave me his signature smirk. “Of course.”

With that, he swiped his tongue over his lips while he was staring at me. We both had the same idea we leaned in and to be this close was intoxicating, his breath hot and our noses were touching but my mom did not like our idea. “Dean we are closing for the day.” my mom said from the doorway and we quickly pulled away. “Uh right sorry I'll see you guys later.” He grabbed his jacket and gave me one more look before he walked out. “Mom! What the hell!” “You can not be with that Man!” “Why?” She looked down thinking about something but decided against it. “Just please be careful with those boys.” She turned away before I could ask any more questions.

Dean and Sam had not been back since night. I mean they're busy but it felt personal to me. I tried to forget those butterflies that I got every time I got around Dean but for some reason I couldn't. Every guy that I had been with wasn’t really serious and I was fine with that but then I met Dean and in my locked trunk of hopes in my heart that maybe he was different. And he was.

It was early in the morning and I was waiting at the table for Jo. She sneakily walks in going to the fridge. I flip on the light. “Late-night snacks sis?” She jumped at me. “Jezze Y/n I thought you were Mom.” I get up and go to the fridge to get a beer. Yes, I did need it to deal with my little sister’s attitude. “No, I'm worse. Mom would go easy on you compared to me.” “Y/n please let me go, I can do this!” I sign and sit down. “Sit down Jo.” she does. “Jo look, the reason I'm like this is because I couldn't bear if anything happened to you like… Dad and mom would agree.”

She looks down at her fiddling hands. “N/n I'm doing this because of Dad you got more time with him all I remember are the short times he came back from hunting. If I can do this I won't feel like I barely know him.” She was right. I couldn't take that away from her if this was her way of feeling closer to our Father then I would have to let her, even if that meant hunting. I sigh deeply, standing up and taking out my knife and handed it to her. “What is this?” “It was Dad’s” She looked up at me like I had given her gold.

“But he gave this to you.” “He did but it was his hunting knife and it's just been sitting in my pocket not doing much hunting so it seems right that you take it.” She jumps up and hugs me tight. “Thank you, thank you.” I pull back to look at her. “You can thank me by sending me the case and the location and call me everyday to make sure you're safe.” She nods her head. “Okay, that’s fair.” We let go. “Okay get out of here before Mom gets up.” She smiles excitedly grabs her bag and practically skips out the door.

She had Ash set up a paper trail of casinos down the state line so Mom wouldn't really know where she was. Mom did not like it but had accepted it. It was about two days in and she finally called me. “Hey, I thought we said every day.” “Sorry, I got distracted.” “By what?” I asked a little confused. “Sam and Dean.” “They're there!” “Yeah I guess we picked up on the same story.” “So you have help good good.” All that was running through my head was Dean. “N/n you okay?” She asked, hearing my pause. “Yes, I am, well call to update me. Love you.” “Love you too sis.” She hung up and I just sat there for a second and the next one I decided what I was going to do.

I walk to the apartment door and knock on it. The door opened and there was Dean. My heart quickens but I play it off cool. “Hey, Dean.” “Hey, Y/n.” He steps aside and I come in. “Y/n what are you doing here?” Jo questioned. “Uh, I wanted to get in and gank this ghost.” “Why didn’t you just come with me in the first place.” That’s a good question and now for a good lie. “I was scared but I fought off the nerves.” That was a shit lie. “Okay well I'll catch you up.” I walk over to the map but not before looking at Dean and he looked back.

We had determined that the ghost was H.H Holmes I know it does sound insane and it is. I was mostly worried about Jo seeing she was exactly Holmes type. We were going to split off in pairs to search but not before I talked to Dean. “Hey” I stepped up to him.”Hey, you ready.” “as I'll ever be.” “Good well I'll be one phone call away.” “I know and if anything happens to Jo-” He put his arm on my shoulder. “It won't.” His eyes are so trusting. “And Dean.” “Mhh.” “You be careful too.” “I will.”

Sam and I were checking upstairs while Jo and Dean went downstairs. “So… did you really want to come.” He asked casually looking around. “Of course, I did for my sister.” He stopped to look at me. “Really that’s what you're going with I mean why not go in the first place and you're scared Y/n I've seen you punch a man square in the face for trying to take your tip.” To be honest I didn't even know myself. “I-” We were rounding the corner and straight into Dean. “Dean Dean!” He kept on walking. “Where’s Jo!” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun to face me. “She was taken.” He keeps on going and I'm frozen.

We were back in the apartment and I kept walking back and forth. We are looking in the blueprints to see where she could be hidden while Dean’s phone rings. It was my Mom. Fear got stricken through my body how would my Mom even look at me? How would I?” “She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business.” Dean responded back and I thought my lie from before was shit. “Look, we'll get her back.” My heart was thumping.

“The spirit we're hunting, it took her.” I could hear from where I was how worried she was. “She'll be okay, I promise.” “You promise. That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester.” What the fuck does that mean. Dean had the same response. he lowers the phone and hands it to me. “She wants to talk to you.” I shakily take it. “Mom I-” “Dont even how could you let her!” The tears started to fall from my eyes and my face turned red from burning anxiety. “I'm sorry I just wanted her to feel closer to Dad.” “Well, she may be closer than you wanted now!” “You're her big sister!... Im so disapiontted in you.” She hangs up the phone with nothing else. I drop the phone on the bed. “I'll be right back.” I sobily say and run out.

I go out to the alleyway and kick the trashcan out of anger. “AHHH! Fuck!” I punched the wall and in my anger, and I had forgotten it was made out of brick. My knuckles started trickling blood and I slumped down the wall just feeling defeated. A pair of boots showed up in front of me. “Hey” I looked up and it was Dean. “Hey,” I respond softly my voice feeling raw. He sat down next to me. “We're going to find her N/n” I wipe my eyes.

“I shouldn't have let her go she was so desperate to feel something to our dad that I let her go… I'm so stupid.” I put my head in my crossed arms against my knees. “You are not stupid, you're a good sister.” I dryly chuckle at myself. “I'm a sister who let her only sibling go hunting when I knew the danger.” He sighs. “When I was sixteen and Sam was twelve we were hunting and I let him go look on by himself a ghost almost killed him.” I turn my head at him.

“Uh, no offense Dean but pep talk sucked.” “I not done the reason he didn't die is because he remembered what I had taught him and he had his tools not just weapons but knowledge and he was ready so is Jo she fine she has an amazing sister looking for her.” I wipe my tears and throw myself in his arms and he catches me. He pets my head in comfort I whisper. “Thank you.” We split apart really close. He leans forward pur noses touching. Then Sam comes running towards. “UH guys I think I know where she is.”

She and the other missing girl had been in a storm drain. When had trapped H.H. ghost and Jo and I got topside. She threw her arms around me. “Are you ok!?” I put my hands on her face. “No no I'm fine just some scratches.” She took out Dad's pocketknife. “This protected me. So thank you.” “Anytime sis.” The boys get out of the drain. Sam and Jo go off to talk and that leaves Dean and I alone. “So….” He starts. I Bear hug him. “Thank you for helping save my sister.” “Of course.” This time I'm going do it. I grab his face and he accepts it, “Ah am.” I look behind him and it's my mom I'm so tried of people fucking cock blocking me.

The ride home let's just say that Christmas with a stepmom twenty years old is more comfortable. We get to the roadhouse and Mom practically drags us in. “Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo and Y/n did good out there, I think their dad would be proud.” Dean tried to reason. “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughters. Alone.” The boys leave. “You're angry. I understand.” Jo started.

“Angry? Angry doesn't begin to touch it.” I mean I know why she’s angry with me but Sam and Dean? “Is this about me hunting, or something else?” I tried “Mom they were right there, backing us up the whole time.” “Like father, like sons.” “Mom what the fuck is that suppose to mean.” “I’m sorry I shouldn't have said anything.” Both Jo and I look at each other. “Mom what are you not telling us.”

I went on a little walk after I learned what happened I guess Jo talked to them about it but my emotions were all over the place. Jo and I had a talk which ended in crying and a hug. I didn't know how to feel especially now with Dean.

I was taking the trash out behind the roadhouse when I turned it was Dean. “Ahh Fuck! Dean, I almost threw this trash bag full of dirty napkins at you.” “Yeah shaking in my boots.” We just had a silent silence. “Look I just wanted to say sorry.” I was puzzled. “Why are you sorry?” “Because of my dad.” “Dean that wasn't your… fault.” He steps closer. “I know, but my dad's not here and I am so I'm sorry that Will is not here because of him.” I drop the trash and I kiss him. I didn't care at that moment that my clothes were covered in grease stains and a mix between blood and beer I had to. His lips were a little chapped but still were soft as a cloud. Our lips separated slowly. “I'm sorry I just..” His hands were on my hips now. “Had to.” He finished.

18+ SMUT……

“I have about thirty minutes before my mom comes looking for me so do you wanna do this ?” He grabbed me and backed me to the wall. “Oh, I wanna do this I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you.” “Dean you-” I didn't get to finish my sentence before he kissed me again. And yes it was heaven. His tongue starts to prod my lips and I let him in. “Mhh Dean.” “You like that.” “Yes,” I said practically moaning. “How about this.” he goes down my neck slowly sucking on my sweet spots. “You are too good at that Dean.”

“Yeah, hopefully I'm good at this too.” He unbuttons my shirt slowly and kisses down my stomach. To my pants. “This okay.” He was on his knees his hands on my pants band. “Yes.” He pulled down my pants. Grabbed my panties with my teeth to easily pull down. He starts to kiss my inside thigh. “Oh my gosh.” I throw my hand to the wall to steady myself. He kitten licks my slit. “Ahh” He then puts his tongue in me. “Ohh Fuck Dean!” He goes fully in and eats me out like a madman. I am so close. I grab onto his shoulder and grip it tightly. “Just let go honey.” I did and he lapped it up.

“Oh my gosh did you go to school for that.” I breathily let out. “Yeah, I majored in it.” I chuckle and my hand goes to his pants. “Do you want me to return the favor?” He takes my hand. “I would love that but we have about ten minutes left and I want to show you why I graduated at the top of my class.” I nod and he unbuckles his pants and drops them. I look down and his shaft is standing proud. He pulled down his underwear and it was bigger than I expected. “You ready sweetness.”

“Always.” He gently grabs my head kisses me again and starts grinding against me. He then slips in. “Ahh Dean!” “Tell me when I can move,” It feels a little burning but then it turns into pleasure. “Dean you can move.” He goes in and out moving slowly. “Y/n you feel so good.” He grabs onto my hips to pull me up onto around his hips. He thrusts in and out faster and faster. He breaths into my neck and I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I'm almost there are you Y/n” “Yes!” “Let's do it together!” He moves down to rub my clit. “Ahh fuck!” “Ok, one two three!” And we did. He pulled out his cock dripping with our fluids together. I then realized the time. “Dean I loved that but you have to go.” he grabs me one more time to leave a sweet kiss. “I'll call you.” “You better Dean Winchester.” He gathers himself and leaves. I didn't know where that left us but at least we would always have behind the roadhouse.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean x reader #smut #dean winchester smut #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #sam winchester

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imaginationlover101 · 20 days ago

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Should Of Said No

Series List

Part 1

Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: An early morning out of the motel leaves unwanted questions brought up before the vist to Harvells roadhouse.

A/N: Loosely inspired by Taylor's Swifts "Should of Said No"

The September air was quite chilling for this time of year. The leaves on the ground began to change colors, and slowly but surely the heavier jackets were taken out of the closets and slowly making there way into the wardrobe. The September sun shows it's last few days of Summer before it makes up it's mind and a linger of the new fall air begins to show.

What used to be my favorite time of year soonly turned into my least, and it all happened when I saw Jo Harvelle wearing Dean's jacket.

This all started a few days ago when Dean, Sam, and I began to finish up our research on the "cold-hearted man." Now for context you see way back when in the 1950s there was this man named Jacob Treasure, who lived in Omaha, Nebraska. Townspeople say that since his death, he has been haunting young girls who are still hung up on their first love.

Now, this is because when Jacob was in his 20s, he was in love with his high school sweetheart. Jacob was convinced the two were out to be married, and the day Jacob went to propose to his dear love Amelia. He found out she was cheating on him with a business owner in the town over. Now poor Jacob was so distraught in what had just happened he had died of a broken heart, and since that day he haunts young girls who are still hooked on their first love as an order of revenge.

Well, Dean, Sam, and I had found Amelia to make her known to what all Jacob had done, and finally, Jacob's haunting seemed to die down. So we salted and burned the body and was on our way. It was as simple as that, and sooner or later we were on our way.

We hadn't seen Bobby in a while, so we decided to make a trip to him, and then go visit Ellen and Jo. Ellen was complaining all year long to us about how we don't go visit enough, and all the whiskey is getting lonely because "Dean" has stopped by to visit. So, with our bags packed, we made our way out of the motel and to our newest location.

Lifting my suitcase off the bed, I began to look around the motel room. Dean was downstairs starting the car, while Sam and I were doing one last search of the room. Walking around the room, I began to search the nightstand drawers. I could hear Sam stop in his tracks and look my way.

Turing around, I stop my rummaging and look towards him. "Doesn't it feel like we're missing something?"

Sam sighs and takes one big stare around the room. "No, Y/N, I promise we've done this like 10 times already. Is something wrong?" Oh, Sam, stupid Sam Winchester and his big brown puppy dog eyes.

Sighing, I stopped my movements and sat back on my bed. Rubbing my hand over the tacky red bedding, I finally stopped. "I don't know, Sam, something just feels off."

Sam stops for a moment and makes his way towards the edge of the bed to sit near me. Placing his hand in mine, he begins to smoothly hold it in a comforting way. "Don't take this the wrong way, Y/N, but are you hesitant to see Jo?"

Jo, really Jo? Miss, I wear shirts that are clearly too tight for me, and Miss I love to stand right next to Dean and hover real close to him in case "something bad happens."

Rolling my eyes, I begin to stand up. "Pffff Jo, please why would I be hesitant to see Jo?" Flicking my hair behind my shoulders, I began to walk towards the ranky bathroom mirror to fix my makeup. Though it was probably no use in the dark anyway. The bathroom bulbs were slightly fading, and the mirror looked 2 shades too dirty. I couldn't wait to take a clean hot shower.

"Y/nnnnnnnnn-" Sam says, practically singing my name. Following my footsteps, he leans on the door frame with a grin. "You don't have to pretend it's just me and you. No Dean, no Jo, just us"

Looking at him through the mirror, I roll my eyes once again, continuing to line my lips in the mirror. Groaning, he leans his head against the frame, closing his eyes. "Come on, Y/N, just tell me the truth. Besides, I was the same way with that girl Andrea back in high school. You remember her right."

Sighing, I close the cap to my liner, but not before putting on lipstick. Letting Sam's words sink in for a minute, I turn around. "Sam, that was different. You were in love with Andrea -" lowering my voice, I peak out from the empty space where Sam was standing (making sure no one was really around)

"I am not in love with Dean, and besides, if Jo wants to go prance around Dean like a fawn looking for water. Let her go ahead, I won't stop her." Placing a hand on my hip, I grab my makeup bag from the counter.

"What bothers me is how she just goes walking around with a smug grin on her like she owns Dean, when clearly -" moving past Sam, I place the makeup bag on my suitcase, but not before pointing in his direction "-she doesn't!"

With a grin on my face, I began rolling my suitcase towards the door waiting for Sam. I could tell he was in between his words, trying to figure out what to say or not. Laughing at my antics, he grabs his suitcase and follows me towards the door. "So you're okay with her."

Grabbing my stuff, I open the door and make a beeline for the stairs. "Sam, I am better than okay. All I need is a cool drink and a shower, and trust me, this attuide of mine will fade. "

Somewhere out of the blue, Dean appears at the end of the steps and takes the suitcase out of my hands. Smiling at me, he holds a hand above my head blocking the sun out of my eyes. "Almost couldn't see you there, sunshine. The sun was shining too bright on you today."

"Thanks D, what'd I do without you?" Rubbing Deans shoulder, he takes all my bags and begins to make his way towards the car.

Turning around, I face my attention to Sam as he makes his way down the stairs. "See, there's no competition. What would I need to be jealous about?" Sam just shakes his head as we makes our way towards Dean.

"Hey, what were you guys talking about up there. I thought maybe Sammy boy over here fell in the toilet or something". "Really Dean?" Sam says lifting his bag off his shoulder and onto the hood off car.

"Hey, Hey, Hey watch what your doing there Sammy, your gonna scratch the paint." Sam huffs a quick whatever before grabbing his bag making his way into the car.

"Ah some peace and quiet" Dean said as he leaned against the hood while staring at the motel in front of us. Sighing I follow his movements, "Yeah I'd say we had a good run".

Taking his attention off the scenery, Dean nudges my leg. "How are you feeling?" With a confused look on my face I nudge his leg back.

"I'm okay, what'd you mean though?" Crossing his arms over one another he stares off into the nearby greenery of the motel.

For a moment Dean hesitates, "I just want to make sure your all good sunshine." Laughing I lean off the car and stand in front of him now blocking the sun from his eyes.

"Hmmmm and how are you feeling Winchester?" Leaning further on the hood he grabs my hands motioning for me to help him up, but not before I muttered "grandpa" under my breath.

"Come on I hear a burger that's calling my name." Rolling my eyes I lean closer to him as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I could already see Sam's rolling eyes through the cars windshield.

Dean never mentioned a word to me that day on how he was feeling, and it wasn't until later that week he revealed what was wrong.

Making our way towards "baby," I couldn't help but look at the area around us and think of the calm before the storm. I had a feeling that things were soon to go south, but I tried to ignore them for as long as I could.

#dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester series #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader

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spnbabe67 · 4 months ago

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Run Baby Run

Kinktober Day 6: Knife Play (D.W.)

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: DUBCON!, Knife Play, Choking, Handcuffs, Smut, Masturbation (F and M), Deanmon (Yes, he is his own warning)

Summary: Tori was trying to be sneaky. But when Dean spots her at the bar he tracks her to her motel room and she tries to convince him to come back home (I suck at summaries sometimes, I'm sorry!)

Word Count: 1749

Authors Note: This is a lot darker than I usually write so bear with me on this. I saw a thing on tiktok that inspired this fic. Title is based on the song Run Run Run by Dutch Melrose

Taglist: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

Tori knew that Dean was different. She hadn’t been there when Sam got back to find Dean’s note, but when Sam called her from the other side of the country telling her that Dean was now a demon, Tori couldn’t believe it, refused to believe it. But there he was lounging at the bar and every so often she watched his eyes flick to pure onyx then back to that gorgeous emerald green. The last semblances of hope she had that maybe Sam had hallucinated, he hadn’t been getting much sleep, neither of them had been. All of that flew out the window when she locked gazes with him from her hidey hole in a booth in the back corner of the tavern and his eyes blinked black, narrowing with recognition before returning to their normal color. She wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, that good and kind heart she knew beat steadily in his broad chest would override the corruption that turned souls into demons.

Much to her dismay, Tori knew she couldn’t bring him back by herself, at least not without putting herself in significant danger. She knew what Dean was capable of as a human, a deadly and cunning hunter. What would he be capable of as a demon? She slipped out the back of the roadhouse, climbing into Baby with a gentle hand on the steering wheel and ran, tail between her legs, back to the motel she’d rented for the night. A pit had opened up inside her, filled by despair, anger and desperation. She sat down at the table in her room, palming the Demon Blade. The polished antler handle was smooth, the pommel rounded off from years and years of use. Tori didn’t know if it was part of the enchantment of the blade, but it never seemed to dull, always razor sharp and ready to be plunged into a demon’s meatsuit. She ran the pad of her thumb parallel against the blade, feeling the edge scrape against the ridges of her skin. Tori had to pull herself from the thought of using the blade on Dean; she wasn’t sure she could if it came down to it. She knew that Mark of Cain was a bad idea, but did anyone listen?

Tori clenched her fist around the handle, starting as a knock sounded at the door. The seedy motel she chose to hole up at didn’t have peepholes so Tori held the knife behind her back as she slowly eased the door open to be met with a pair of green eyes.

“Hiya Sweetheart.” Dean shot her a saccharine smile, shouldering his way into the room all masculine swagger.

Tori stood there stunned for a moment as she processed what just happened. Once her brain and body reconnected, she slammed the door shut and stormed over, shoving Dean against the wall with an arm across his broad chest. It’d been months since she’d seen her lover let alone been this close to him. He had grown a stubble, his hair longer and styled a little differently and sans the black eyes, he was still her Dean. Yeah, this is gonna be hard.

“Okay, this is how this is gonna work.” Tori reached over to the table and grabbed the warded handcuffs. “You are gonna put these on and then we are gonna take you back to the Bunker and figure out how to turn you back.”

Dean smugly looked down at the handcuffs in her hand before trailing his gaze back up to hers. His hand brushed hers as he took the cuffs from her, the other Tori found around her neck. She took a shaky breath as his fingers encircled her neck, pads pressing against her thundering pulse.

“What makes you think that I would ever want to be changed back? I’m stronger, I’m faster, and I can fuck you so much better than I could before.” Dean purred into her ear as he tossed the cuffs to the ground, snatching the knife from her shaky grip.

Tori felt her bottom lip wobble with fear and anger. She knew she shouldn’t have come here alone, should have taken Sam up on his offer to have him come with her to chase this lead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Tori hated the way her body quivered as she felt the cool metal of the blade against her stomach as Dean slid it between her skin and her tank. The sound of ripping fabric meddled with her shallow breaths as Dean slowly cut away her shirt, leaving her naked from the waist up, her nipples pebbling from the cold air.

“Get on the bed.” His voice void of humor.

Tori swallowed thickly as she backed up until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Dean followed her, stopping at the foot of the bed as Tori retreated towards the head of the bed.

“Strip.”

The one word was enough for Tori to feel her panties become wet. Tori kept her eyes on Dean’s as she slowly hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her basketball shorts, pushing them down her thighs and discarding them off to the side. She felt her breath get caught in her throat as Dean slammed the knife down blade first into the mattress. The blade sank into the fabric, the smooth handle Tori had just been admiring stuck straight out of the duvet. Tori felt her cheeks burn hot as she slowly realized what Dean wanted her to do, brown eyes flitting between the knife and Dean as he pulled a chair towards the bed. As he sat down his fingers made deft work of his jeans, sliding them down to lay loose around his muscled thighs. His pretty cock was standing at attention, the head of him red and weeping with precum.

Dean jerked his chin towards the knife. “You know what to do, pretty girl.”

Tori flicked her tongue across her lower lip, watching Dean’s eyes dip to her lips. Tori hesitantly crawled forward, positioning her knees on either side of the blade, clocking Dean spit into his hand before lazily stroking his length. Tori could feel her core pulsing with arousal as she sank down, the pommel of the knife pushing against her entrance. Her breath hitched as the handle of the knife slid, with little resistance, into her. It didn’t fill her half as good as Dean’s cock, but the curves of the lacquered handle provided delicious pressure against that spot inside her. She set a steady pace, rolling her hips up and down on the handle, breathy moans escaping her lips every time the handle became fully seated inside her. Dean before her stroked himself in time with her movements, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he watched her. Tori snaked a hand between her legs, coating her fingers in her slick before rubbing small circles around her clit.

Tori whimpered as she felt her orgasm start to build, her free hand kneading her breast as she sped up her movements on the knife, grinding her hips harder. She could see Dean was close, his hips stuttering upwards, chasing his hand. Just before she teetered over the edge Dean lunged at her, pulling her off of the knife, tossing the blade to the ground beside the bed. His lips tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking back at the bar. They crashed against her own as he roughly pawed at her hips, her chest, her thighs. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her, or the humanity still inside him still craved her after being away for so long, she was his anchor and he was desperately trying to moor himself. One second her mouth was being devoured by him, the next she was on her stomach with a mouth full of sheets as Dean shoved his cock inside her. Tori moaned loudly into the bed, Dean’s cock stretching her until she felt like she’d be ripped in two.

“So fucking tight, Sweetheart.” Dean groaned out, a hand braced on her back as he fucked into her at a punishing pace.

Tori fisted her hands in the sheets, rocking her hips back to meet Dean’s thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of her with insanely pornographic sounds. The buttons of his shirt brushed against her spine, adding to the plethora of sensations assaulting her all at once. Her head was pressed further into the bed as Dean’s hand threaded into her hair close to the scalp. He growled dirty nothings into her ear as his cock hit every spot within her, pushing her closer and closer to her orgasm. With a cry swallowed by the bed, Tori came, her legs shaking and sure her nails would rip the stitching in the duvet with how hard she was clenching the fabric. Her walls clenched around Dean’s cock, overstimulated and trying to get away from the sensation as he sped up his thrusts, his hips meeting her own making sloppy noises from her slick as he chased his own high. Tori felt her tears caused by overstimulation melt into the sheets as Dean came with a loud groan, spilling himself into her.

Tori was already maneuvering onto her back, a plead for reason coating her tongue when she felt the cool metal of the handcuffs slap around her wrist, anchoring her to the headboard of the bed. Her mouth dropped open as Dean buttoned his jeans back up before he rooted around and found the key, setting it on the table where he had sat.

“Dean please.” Tori begged as he came back up to her.

He gripped the hair at the back of her head, smashing his lips to hers before pulling back enough to look her in the eye. Tori flinched as Dean’s eyes flicked black. “Be glad I don’t kill you where you sit. Don't come looking for me again and I won't make the same promise.”

Tori felt tears slip down her cheeks as he turned and walked towards the door. “Dean!” She called out. He paused in the threshold. “This isn’t you.” She said quietly.

Dean didn’t move for a couple seconds, and Tori could see his grip on the doorknob tighten. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, eyes still black as night. “It is now.” And that was all he said before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

#dean winchester fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural dean #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x tori #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine

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ufcconor · 10 months ago

Text

Come on, baby

Knox x F!Reader

(Y/n) Brandt has a history with her fathers most trustworthy hit man

SMUT SMUT SMUT

Getting the call from Gerald Brandt was a surprise to say the least. “Knox, I need you!” “What do you need?” Gerald screams into the phone, “Knox, my Idiot son is fucking things up!” “I’ll leave right away.” “And Knox, look after (y/n).” Knox pauses, excitement brewing in him. “You know I will.”

I see a man walking down the dock to the shitty houseboat named so cleverly “The Boat”. I sit up from my chair, holding onto my hat in the low wind as the boat rocks in the water. “That’s the new bouncer at the roadhouse Ben keeps going on about?” The smirk grows on my lips. My friend meets my gaze, staring at the man as he steps onto the boat and shamelessly begins to work out in the sun. “He’s hot.” I lean on the railing.

I wave my hand towards him as my boat sails by. “Looking good over there!” He stops mid-sit up and waves with a small smile before continuing his set. My friend scoffed with a smile. “I'm assuming you’re taking a trip down to the bar tonight.” I shrug sitting back in my hair and sipping my margarita. “Might be.”

I walk into the bar and scan the scene. The music is upbeat, and the people seem to be calm… for now at least. I allow my eyes to scan the entire place until I see him. Sitting at the bar, and quietly observing. I walk to him and take the seat directly beside him. I smile at the bartender, “Rum and coke please.”

The man beside me smirks as I mindlessly pat my fingers on the bar looking around. I meet his eyes and drop my jaw dramatically. “Well, what are the chances? Hey there handsome.” “My name’s Dalton.” I shake his hand, “(y/n). Nice to see you again. Shirt on this time, but we can work on that.”

Night after night I’d go to the roadhouse and sit with Dalton. Flirting and talking, were all fun. When there was an issue he’d get up, handle it with some sarcastic banter and strong punches, and then he’d be back beside me with a cheeky smile as if nothing happened. I like a man who can handle himself. He was a sweet guy to top it off. He definitely shouldn’t be the one to be here taking care of this matter. He shouldn’t have to be the one to deal with my idiot brother and his schemes.

I put six sandwiches on a plate and exit the home to the back patio. “Sandwiches are on the bar!” I yell to the boys as I sit down in a chair, opening my book. Not long after I gained inner peace, a loud collision struck right in front of the house. I tear my shades off as a figure enters. “Who the fuck put those bikes in my way?” I watch as Knox strolls in. “Who the fuck are you?” Clyde asks. Knox raises his hand to his face, “Shh.”

He walks to the bar and praises the leftover sandwiches. “Thank you, God. Sandwiches. I’m fucking famished.” He bites into the bread with a growl.

This can not be happening. I was set on the fact that I would not have to see this asshole ever again. The memories flash so quickly. A day full of shopping. The 4 bottles of wine at the most expensive restaurant in Rome. Romantic walks down the streets. Long nights full of him showering me with endless pleasure.

Moe bursts in quickly, “He knocked all the fucking bikes over!” I roll my eyes going back to my book. I’d rather not be involved in whatever the hell he’s doing. I turn the page in my book trying to focus on the words cascading down the page but I can feel his eyes burning onto my frame. Clyde towers over him. “Now you got a big ass problem, bucko.”

Knox nods, mouth full, “No shit! First off, I’m going to need more than 3 sandwiches.”

“I wasn’t done talking.” Clyde cuts Knox off.

Knox glares at Clyde, meeting his gaze with power. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong, lad.” He pushes past Clyde and nears my chair. He stands next to me, looking down at me. I put my book down with a huff. Knox smiles, “What darlin’? Not a word for me? Thought you’d be happy to see me.” I stand up, bumping his arm as I walk past him.

Knox plops down in my seat, lounging back. “Aye, baby. Are you going to make me some more sandwiches or what?” I flip him off as I slam the door shut. “Stupid mother fucking Irish asshole.”

I tear my bathing suit off in a rush. Why the fuck has he come here? Something to do with my father no doubt. I step into the shower trying to calm my nerves, trying to burn out the heat that ignites in my core. He always had this effect on me. I can't help but remember the night.

I lay back on the couch, my dress hugged my body tightly. Knox saunters over with another glass of wine for me. “Mhh thank you,” I mumble out. He takes a seat next to me. I lay my legs over his thighs, beginning to look over his entire frame. He was big (no doubt everywhere). I run my foot over his crotch. He narrows his gaze at me. “Nah, lassie. That’s not in the cards for you.” He grabs my ankles putting my motions to a stop. I sigh before standing, rolling the wine into my glass. “I thought you were fun.” I lean down to my phone, putting some music on. I sway my hips, my back facing Knox. I down my glass of wine, turning around and arching my back on the wall. His eyes glued to my frame, his orbs burning into mine. I take a step forward, lowering the zipper of my dress with each step. I stand in front of him, zipper completely down, the dress hanging loosely. I lean down, my hands on his shoulders. “Still not in the cards? Even for me?” Knox chuckles, forcing his eye contact to the wall. “You father would have my ass, baby.”

I stand straight again. “Hm, that’s a shame.” I let the straps of the dress off my shoulders, it cascades down to the marble floor delicately. Only clad in my panties and expensive heels I turn away from him, leaving the dress at his feet.

“Fuckin hell.” He mumbles.

Before I know it I’m tossed onto the bed and Knox is kissing up my body and pampering my exposed breast with kisses and bites.

Soon his fingers pumping deliciously in and out of my heat. I arch up with a loud cry as an orgasm races through me. “There's a good girl."

I splash water onto my face. I can’t allow myself to get tangled in with him again. There’s nothing there but an empty promise. I know the bed will be cold by morning.

I step out of the shower and dry my body with the towel before hanging said towel up on the door. I bent over, flipping my head over to start drying my wet hair.

“I always did adore this side of you, love.”

I shoot up and turn around. “What the fuck!” I snatch my towel off the door and hold it up in front of me. “Get out!” He doesn’t. Instead, he walks closer causing me to back up until I hit the countertop. He places his arms on either side of me, making a chance for an easy escape difficult.

He bites his lip looking at my poorly hidden body. He catches the hem of the towel in his fingers. “Why don’t we catch up?” I look at him with wide eyes and anger boiling in my chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Knox sucks in a breath. “Now listen, I know how it looked back then.” I scoff and push him away. He doesn’t fight me and allows me to pass. “Hate to see you go, but I love seeing you walk away, baby.” I enter my bedroom and with one last glance at Knox, I slam the door shut.

Ben walks into the back patio and sees Knox sitting in a tanning chair, eating a plate of sandwiches. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?” Knox nods, “Hey. I got a message for you. From your father.” He stands facing Ben.

Bem furrows his brow, “A message? My father? And what… What is this “message”?” Knox pops Ben in the nose quickly before tossing his arm over his shoulders. “You’re Ben, right? Jerry’s son?” He chuckles removing himself. Knox admires the house. He points to the pool shed. “This is where I’ll store my stuff. And that master bedroom up there is mine. Move your sister's shit in with mine. You can take her room.” Ben shakes his head, confusion clouds his mind. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

Knox grabs a golf club. “Your dad says you’ve been fucking things up.” He turns to Ben, who backs away. “He asked me to lend a hand.”

Ben scoffs, “How would my father know? He’s in a prison, rotting in a cell.” “Don’t be silly. Your father has spies everywhere.”

“Well, you can tell my father…” Ben starts but gets cut off by his sister (y/n) coming out. “Where are you going?” She rolls her eyes. “Why do you care?” She takes a step and Ben grabs her arm. Knox straightens up, anger brewing within him. No one gets to touch her.

“Is it the road house? To see your little boyfriend?” (Y/n) rips his arm off, “Believe it or not but I’m actually likable unlike you.” She walks off. “Don’t go to that fucking bar, (y/n)!” She turns around with a smirk. “Or what?” Knox watches her such as predator watches their prey. Fire brewed within his chest at the thought of some other man touching her, touching what he had claimed.

Ben runs his fingers through his hair, frustration existing on his face. “She’s such a pain in my ass.” He turns back to Knox. “I don’t need your fuckin’ help. I have it all under control.”

“No, you don’t.” Knox swings the club, making Ben back away again. “Yes, I have people out there right now… cleaning up this final issue, and that’s all…” Knox ignored Ben’s confident plan. “So, where’s this bouncer asshole?”

I enter the road house and move to the corner expecting to see Dalton but to my surprise, he’s nowhere in sight. Laura slides my drink over. “He’s late.” I furrow my brow. “That’s a first.”

An hour later Dalton comes in looking a little disheveled. He sits beside me taking a breath. “Hey.” “Hey, what’s going on?” He shakes his head. “Had a little mix-up with the sheriff.” I cringe internally, “A mix-up?” My brothers doing. Laura leans over conserved. “What are we talkin’ about?”

A surprising guest speaks a few seats away. “Yeah, what are we talking about?” Ben walks over, taking the seat next to me. “Hey, sis. Thought I told you to stay home.” Ben averts his attention from me. “I’m curious to hear what you were gonna tell her, Dalton. I’m Ben Brandt. (Y/n)‘s brother.”

Dalton smirks, “Let me guess. It’s your turn now.” “My turn?” “You know, to threaten me. Tell me to get out of town. Like your buddy, Big Dick.” Ben chuckled. “No. No, I get the impression that you can’t be threatened.

I wish you could be, but… I’d even bribe you if I thought money would work.” Dalton nods, “Really? How much we talking?”

“Ben, can you just fuck off?” He turns to me, anger in his eyes. “(Y/n) doesn’t it make you curious what an outsider like him… thinks he’s doing here.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know, Ben. Nor do I care. Just get the fuck out of here.”

Ben ignores me again. “So, I guess my question is… Why? Right? It can’t be just some competitive thing, you…you’ve won the fight. You can back off now. But you… you don’t. You just keep… punching and punching and punching. So, why? Why don’t you just stop?” Dalton stays silent causing Ben to exit like a toddler, anger blowing from his ears.

Dalton raises a brow. “Your brother, huh?” “I like to think I’m adopted.” The door opens and Knox strolls in with the bikers behind him. I watch as Knox scans the room making eye contact with me.

Knox strolls around, picking at two separate tables. “Hey, fellas. Looks like you’re havin’ a smashing night!” He swings the golf club smashing every bottle and glass off their table. Knox successfully starts the bar fight and chaos consumes the entire building.

“Dalton! Dalton! Dalton!” Knox screams as he scans the room. I stand up and walk towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Knox chuckled, lowering his head, our noses brushing. “A lot of shit. You wanna try to fix me?” His smirk grows.

“Dalton! Dalton!” On-demand, Dalton yells from the top of the steps. “What?” Knox looks over him as if inspecting. He tosses his head back. “This is the guy?” He asks me, I can see jealousy glowing in his eyes. “Leave him alone, Knox.”

He points to Dalton. “You know, I got sent here special. Just for you.” Dalton stays calm, taking a glance around the chaotic scene. “And you brought all your friends with you?” “I thought you might miss havin’ an audience. I was trying to be thoughtful. Like on pay-per-view. 25 quid. Watch me pulp your face!” Panic pumps through my veins. “You can’t fucking do this, Knox.”

Dalton stands a few feet away now. “You know this guy too?” Knox smirks and looks at me, waiting for my answer. “He’s my father’s employee.” Knox places his hand on his chest, acting like his feelings are damaged. “Aww come on, baby. Don’t be like that.“ He takes my chin between his fingers, his face inches from mine. “How do I know that you squeal when having your pussy eaten just, hm? Right here.” Knox sticks his hand down to my clothed crotch and pats my pelvic bone lightly. I gasp and move away from him. The act so bold in a public setting had my cheeks glowing red and a pool between my legs.

Dalton grabs Knox and shoves it away. “Don’t touch her, man.” Knox smiles at Dalton. “Nah, mate. You don’t get to touch her! SHE’S MINE!” Knox swings his club at Dalton hitting him in the stomach, before punching him and starting a brawl between the two.

I follow some of the bikers outside as they file out. “What the fuck was that?” I scream at Dell. “Stop it, (y/n). You know Brandt wants the road house.” I roll my eyes, “a shitty bar? For real?” I turn on my heel to walk back into the bar, but Knox catches my upper arm and pulls me to his car. “Let go of me, Knox.” He opened the passenger door and oh so helpfully assisted me in. “You and me. We’re going to have a little chit-chat.” He fumes. He’s angry. He flies off, tearing up gravel as he speeds out of the lot. He maneuvers through traffic, passing cars at high speed. “If you slow down we won’t live long enough to talk,” Knox smirks at me. “Ah baby, I’ve missed that smart mouth of yours, truly.”

Knox drifts into a lonely dock and slams the door as he gets out. “Let’s go.” Knox strips his shirt and shoes. I step out and lean against the front of the car, the sand damp on my feet.

Knox shakes his finger at me. “This ain’t you. Where’d my girl go?” I glare at him, “Maybe she’s back in Rome where you ditched her two years ago.” Knox, only a couple feet away smiles again. “All that? Baby you know your father had me running around for him.” “You left me alone with no explanation. You dipped that morning and never spoke to me again.” Knox nods, “Yeah, I did. That’s what your father told me to do.” “Yeah, and you always do what he says huh? Like a dog.”

Knox drops his smile. “And what have you been doing? You used to listen like a good girl. Now look at ya. Fucking around with these assholes.”

“Better than you.”

Knox grabs my arm pulling me to him. “Aww, now I see it. You’ve not been fucked real good in a long time. That it?” I raise my hand and slap him across the face. He pauses for a moment before a dark smirk grows across his lips. “There’s my tiger.”

Fuck it. This is toxic as hell.

I wrap my arms around his broad body, attacking his mouth. He holds me up, holding our bodies as close as possible. Our tongues battling, the passion seeping from each other's mouths. The clawing and scratching of our hands. He kisses down my neck, running his tongue over my collarbones. The hot breeze sticks to the moist surface. He pushes me back onto the hood of the car. “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, but first…” he flips the hem of my dress over my thighs, and separates them. “I need to taste ya.”

He kisses the soft skin of my inner thighs. A drunken state unraveled within me. Knox pulls my panties down, taking a look at my private. He nestled between my thighs, "Such a pretty cunt. How did I ever let you out of my sight?" The praises leaving his mouth caused me to gasp. I am unable to speak, unable to ask if he wanted to do this out here, on the beach, given any surprise visitor. All I could do was moan and arch my back onto the cold surface of the car. My heart was racing, blood rushing, toes being forced to curl.

His tongue brushed through my folds, collecting drops of the hot arousal. He moaned against my cunt, sucked on the pulsing bundle of nerves. “Knox," the call of his name made him chuckle against my skin. I had never known such pleasures besides him. I was already close to letting go, his mouth latching onto my clit, once again leaving me to arch her back off the hood. "Let go for me, darling."

With another breathy moan, I release, eyes rolling back into my head, fingernails about to claw stripes into the pain of the car. He lazily licked my slit for a few more seconds before he pulled away, moving up her body to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Knox, fuck me please," I whined, looking into his eyes, pleading. He smiled and followed my order within seconds.

My legs lay wide open for him to enter and while his hands hold my waist tightly. He shoved himself up my pussy with such an ease.

"You feel perfect, angel. Nothing changed." he moaned, his moves quickened fast. Noises of skin slapping against skin filled the area. "So fucking good" Knox panted in between harsh thrusts. My lower body just perfectly crashed together with his. I was in heaven as I felt myself coming closer and closer to my end. "I'm gonna cum." | whimpered so quietly that he could barely hear it. “You're the only man who can make me feel this good,” I whined, I was all his.

His movements grew slower, and he heavily breathed into my face. “You’re mine, (y/n).” I was so close, my body was burning. I nod breathlessly, “I’m all yours.” Waves of an orgasm beautifully crashed in, and it was only a matter of seconds before I would cum.

"Good girl." Knox panted and I knew he was about to cum. His hand wandered to my clit and circled it at a fast, pleasuring pace. That was it. I felt my orgasm finally coming in and I let out a loud moan. Knox growled into my neck and bit into my shoulder as he came right after me, releasing all of his warm cum inside me. He kept moaning and growling into my skin, both of us exhausted and in a blissful state. His body was limp on mine.

We laughed into each other's faces and after a moment of silence and just looked at each other. He moved over to his car, retrieving a blanket. “What are you doing?” I ask still lying in bliss. He spread the blanket on the sand. “A night under the stars. What do ya say, lass?” He picks me up and lays us down on the soft blanket. His hands went over my back, and it sent shivers down my spine. In this moment the world was perfect.

#conor mcgregor #ufc conor mcgregor #conor mcgregor x reader #road house #Knox road house #Knox x reader #roadhouse

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year ago

Text

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off.

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

#dp #danny phantom #spn #dp x spn #superphantom #dp crossover #crossover #sam winchester #dean winchester #danny fenton #jazz fenton #fic #things i wrote #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover danuary week #suicide ment #full hazmat au

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doctorbitchcrxft · 7 months ago

Text

Simon Said | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: mind control, canon violence, canon gore, consent lines blurry bc mind control but nothing happens to the reader, mind control attempted suicide

Word Count: 5301

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“I don't know, man, why don't we just chill out, think about this,” Dean said, trying to soothe his brother.

Sam had another vision while he was washing his face a state or two back. Dean was having to be the level-headed one at this moment because Sam was a complete basketcase. “What's there to think about?” the latter asked.

“I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea,” Dean replied.

“I agree. I like ‘em, but I don’t trust any of them enough yet to tell them about this,” you said earnestly.

“Guys, it's another premonition. I know it. This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where,” Sam protested. “Plus, it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do.”

“That’s my point,” Dean said. “There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a— a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?”

“So I'm a freak now?”

You gritted your teeth awkwardly.

Dean slapped Sam on the thigh. “You've always been a freak,” he smiled weakly.

You looked at Sam concernedly, and it seemed he couldn’t keep still even if his life depended on it.

“Sam, it’s gonna be fine, I promise,” you said.

He looked back at you, offering a small smile at your attempt to comfort him. You could tell he was unconvinced.

***

When you arrived at the Roadhouse, Jo bounded up to you and the brothers. “Just can't stay away, huh?” she grinned to Dean.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You knew your jealousy was baseless but still could barely hold it at bay.

“Yeah, looks like. How you doin', Jo?” the older brother asked her.

Sam hurriedly asked, “Where’s Ash?”

“In his back room,” Jo replied.

He brushed past her wordlessly.

Jo turned after him, watching him go. “And I'm fine…”

“Sorry, he's, we're... kind of on a bit of a timetable,” Dean explained, following after his brother. You nodded and gave a closed-lip smile to Jo, who returned it, before heading after Dean.

You arrived at a door labeled, “ Dr. Badass is: IN.” You snorted at the sign, and Sam knocked on the door. “Ash? Hey, Ash?”

Moments passed; no answer. You knocked, this time saying, “Hey, Dr. Badass?”

The door unlatched and opened a crack to reveal a stark naked Ash. You averted your eyes, feeling intensely uncomfortable.

“Sam? Dean?” Ash sounded high. “Sam and Dean. And (Y/N). Hey, (Y/N).”

You laughed awkwardly, still turned away from Ash standing in the doorway. “Hey, Ash. Um. We need your help.”

“Well, hell, then! Guess I need my pants.” He shut the door, and you and the brothers turned to move back to the bar.

Sam described the scene from his dream and drew a logo of the bus he saw in his dream. Ash sat at a table with his homemade laptop and somehow found the logo based off Sam’s drawing. “Well, I got a match. It's the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma.”

“Okay. Do me a favor—” Sam began. “Check Guthrie for any demonic signs, or omens, or anything like that.”

“You think the demon's there?” Ash asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Why would you think that?”

Dean gruffly replied, “Just check it, alright?”

You shot him a look, as did Ash. He obliged, though, and said, “No, sir, nothing. No demon.”

“Alright, try something else for me. Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, night of the kid's six month birthday,” Sam said.

You looked around for eavesdroppers, only to find Jo cleaning a table nearby and watching your group.

“Okay, now that is just weird, man,” Ash protested. “Why the hell would I be looking for that?”

Sam pulled out a beer and set it next to his laptop. “'Cause there's a PBR in it for ya.”

Before Sam could finish his sentence, Ash replied, “Give me fifteen minutes.”

You sat next to Ash as he continued his work, and Dean left to get a beer from Ellen. Suddenly, REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” started playing from the jukebox. You turned your head to the source of the sound and found Jo sauntering over to a horrified-looking Dean at the bar. Your blood boiled, but you just looked back at Ash and his computer. However, you didn’t register anything he was saying or scrolling through.

All you could think about was Jo’s attempted flirting with Dean. Technically, neither party were doing anything wrong; you and Dean had agreed to be friends for the time being. But you were furious at the thought of the two of them together. How disrespectful would that be for Dean to get with Jo days after saying he wanted you and agreed to be friends for now? Your jaw clenched, and you clutched your beer tighter.

Sam snapped in front of your face. “(Y/N), let’s go.”

You broke out of your thoughts and grabbed Dean’s jacket, pulling him along with you.

“See ya, Jo,” you called over your shoulder, stomping out of the bar with Dean in tow.

Dean chuckled at you, gently shrugging you off him. He stooped down to your level and whispered lowly, “Jealous?”

You jerked away from him, cheeks heating in embarrassment. “No.”

He just smirked in response and kissed the side of your head. “Sure, sweetheart.” He then walked ahead of you to the Impala.

You froze, flustered and unappreciative of the effect he had on you. “Dean—!”

***

“Sam, you can’t tell me Lord of the Rings is better than Erin Brockovich,” you argued with the younger brother. The two of you had been locked in a heated debate on your favorite movies of recent years, and these two were the next in question.

“(Y/N/N),” Sam started, “Lord of the Rings is based on six books of Tolkein’s experience in World War I, and Erin Brockovich is—”

“Two hours of fuckin’ perfection,” you cut him off. “Julia Roberts acted those other bitches under the table.”

“But the worldbuilding, (Y/N), it’s not even comparable!”

“Yeah, if you stick around long enough to learn about it. It’s a snoozefest from start to finish,” you giggled.

He scoffed. “Okay, what about—”

“If you two keep talkin’ film nerd, I’m gonna kill myself,” Dean grumbled.

“Killjoy. If it’s not eighties horror, you’re not interested, huh?” you commented, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in your seat.

Dean’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror. “Did you actually read anything back there, or….?”

“I did, thank you very much.” You pulled the stack of papers on the seat next to you into your lap. “Andrew Gallagher. Born in ‘83, like Sam. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, also like Sam.”

“You think the demon killed his mom?” Dean asked.

“Sure looks like it,” Sam responded.

“How did you even know to look for this guy?” Dean asked you.

“Well, Sam’s visions have all been attached to the demon or the other kids—”

“Like Max Miller, remember him?” Sam cut you off.

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho.”

“Well, yeah, but my point is, he was killing people,” you began.

Sam continued, “And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy.”

Dean asked, “How do we find him?”

You blew air out through your pursed lips. “Don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills; phone, credit, utilities—”

“Collection agency flags?” the older brother questioned.

“None in the system.”

“They just let him take a walk?”

You shrugged. “Seems like it. There's a work address from his last W-2; about a year ago. Let's start there.”

***

You and the brothers stopped at a coffee shop dressed in your “formal attire” to question a girl you knew to be friends with Andrew Gallagher about his whereabouts.

“You won't get anything out of Andy, guys. I'm sorry, but they never do,” she said.

“ ‘They’?” Sam asked.

She tilted her head in confusion. “You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back.”

“Actually we're- we're lawyers. Representing his Great Aunt Leta. She passed, god rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate,” Dean lied. “Are you a friend of his?”

“I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

A man came up behind the bashful woman. “Andy? Andy kicks ass, man.”

“Is that right?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once; it was beautiful, bro.”

The woman turned to him. “How about bussing a table or two, Weber?”

“Yeah. You bet, boss.” The man named Weber turned away.

“Look,” the woman sighed, “if you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side.”

“Barbarian queen?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss.”

***

She was right. It was incredibly hard to miss. You and the Winchester boys sat in the back of the Impala, having caught sight of the blue van with the aforementioned painted on the side of it from across the street.

“I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet,” Dean grinned. He turned to his brother. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon, what's going on?”

The brunet sighed. “This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found, Dean. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people.”

“We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, alright? He could be innocent,” the older brother argued.

“My visions haven't been wrong yet.”

“Sam, you’re not one of them, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you said.

“(Y/N), the demon said he had plans for me and children like me,” he replied. “Maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be—”

Dean scoffed. “What, killers? So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it? Come on, give me a break. You're not a murderer, Sam! You don't have it in your bones.”

“No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things."

“Sam, that’s different,” you chimed in. “We kill shit that’s already dead. Or… undead. Or… not human— What are you looking at?”

“Got him,” was all Sam replied with. He nodded toward a man walking down the road in a robe, sandals, and baggy pants. The man in question blew a kiss up at a beautiful woman in lingerie leaning out of a window and waving down at him, got a coffee from some random guy he was passing, and then, shook hands with another.

“That's him. That older guy, that's him, that's the shooter,” Sam rushed out, referencing the man Andy had shaken hands with.

“Alright, you keep on him, we'll stick with Andy. Go.” Sam got out of the car at his older brother’s command.

“We will?” you asked, climbing over the front seat.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Dean followed Andy— who had just climbed into his ostentatious van and began to drive off— closely.

A few minutes of following the man into a suburban area later, the van stopped in the middle of the road and approached the Impala. You discreetly handed Dean his gun from the glovebox and tucked yours into your jacket.

Andy leaned into the rolled-down window of the Impala. “Hey.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean replied.

“This is a cherry ride,” Andy grinned. “Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic.”

“Yeah. Y'know, I just rebuilt her, too.”

“And who’s this gorgeous lady you got next to ya?”

“Oh, I’m (Y/N),” you smiled, suddenly not feeling right.

“Hey, can I have the car? And her, if she’ll let me?” Andy asked you and Dean.

“Sure, man,” Dean grinned, getting out of the car to let the man into the driver’s side.

“Hi, handsome,” you smiled, draping yourself over Andy’s shoulder. You weren’t quite sure what was happening to you, but you knew you weren’t fully in control of what you were doing.

“Take it easy,” Andy told Dean before driving off with you.

“Where ya takin’ me?” you asked him, still mentally horrified by the effect he was having on you.

“You’ll see,” he grinned, and you settled into his shoulder as he continued to drive.

***

About ten minutes later, the man driving you around received a call that seemed to really upset him. He drove a little faster and parked the car moments later once you’d arrived in front of the café you’d first gone to when you rolled into town.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Uh, I—” he paused, sighing. “Stay here, okay?”

“Okay!” You sat patiently with your hands folded in your lap, waiting for him to come back. You suddenly seemed to realize what you’d been doing and looked around yourself, trying to gain your bearings. You were relieved to see Dean and Sam approaching you. You jumped out of the car and leapt into Dean’s arms. “Dean! What the hell, man, he full-on Obi-Wan-ed us!” You let him go and hugged Sam. “What’s wrong, dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“That guy, um, from my visions, he stepped out in front of a bus. Right after he got off the phone,” Sam explained. “We’re thinkin’ Gallagher called him.”

Your brows furrowed and stomach dropped. “Oh.”

“He would’ve had to be on the phone with you in the car,” Dean added. “Was he?”

You shook your head. “No. I mean, not until a second or two before he ditched the car and me in the front seat.”

“Did he… do anything to you?” Sam asked.

You shook your head.

“A real Samaritan, this guy,” the brunet quipped.

You turned to Dean talking to his car. “Oh, baby, I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

“Do you want a moment alone with her?” you deadpanned to Dean.

“We have a special bond,” he said after a pause. He turned back to his car. “She just doesn’t understand us.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the ends of your lips. “Anyway, he didn’t give any kind of a command over the phone. If anything, he was upset when he answered his phone not ten minutes ago. I don’t think he’s our guy.”

“Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?” Sam asked.

“Not a problem,” Dean smirked.

***

“I’ll give you that, his ride isn’t exactly ‘covert’,” you said upon finding the van again.

Dean pulled a small crowbar out of his jacket and pried the doors of the van open with it. The opened doors revealed a disco ball, fur rugs, a tiger painted on the wall, several thick books, and an enormous bong.

“Oh. Oh, come on. This is— this is magnificent, that's what this is. Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though. There's no... clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos. I like the tiger,” Dean chuckled in awe.

“Dean, he tried to kidnap me. And he kidnapped your car. Can we stay focused, please?” you deadpanned. You looked down at the books.

Sam picked one up. “Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading, guys.”

Dean picked up the glass object lying next to them. “Yeah, and, uh, Moby Dick's bong.”

***

Sam and Dean bickered over whether or not they thought Andy was guilty as you zoned out in the backseat. That was, until, the man in question hit the passenger’s side door, startling all three of you.

“Hey! You think I haven't seen you three? Why are you following me?” He asked, his voice reverberating strangely in your ears.

Sam calmly began to explain. “Well, we're lawyers. See, a relative of yours has passed aw—”

“Tell the truth!” Andy’s voice echoed in your mind.

“We hunt demons,” Dean rushed out.

Andy jerked back in surprise. “What?”

“Dean!” Sam scolded.

“He’s telling the truth,” you jumped in. “That’s Sam. He’s Dean’s brother. I’m (Y/N). I met their dad on a hunt, and, uh, here I am! I follow them everywhere because they’re my best friends and the only real family I’ve ever had, and I’m terrified of losing them, and I followed them to you.”

“(Y/N), shut up!” Sam chastised, turning to face you.

“I’m trying,” you said.

“He's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you're a murderer,” Dean continued, “and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible. And, I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right.”

“Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone,” Andy said.

“Okay,” Dean nodded.

Andy walked away from the door, and Sam followed. You and Dean clutched your heads.

“Holy fuck, that hurt,” you groaned.

“Did you really mean that?” Dean asked, clutching the bridge of his nose.

“What, that this hurts?” you scoffed.

“No, about me and Sam.”

“Dude, he made me Professor-Xavier-level spill my guts,” you grumbled. “I couldn’t have lied if I tried.”

Dean gave you a confusing look, but you got out of the car, feeling embarrassed. Sam held up a hand, warning you not to come any closer. You could vaguely hear Andy and Sam arguing about the origins of their powers and the doctor’s death, but all you could focus on was what you’d just admitted.

“(Y/N)—” Dean started.

“No, Dean.” You looked up at him. “We can talk about it one day when this is all over. Just… for now, let’s not.”

He didn’t say anything, but eyed you curiously. Before either of you could say another word to each other, Sam began to collapse to the floor. You and Dean ran to him to catch him and lowered him to the asphalt.

“Sam? What is it?” Dean asked his brother, shaking him.

“Look, I didn't do anything to him—”

“We know you didn’t,” you told Andy.

Sam snapped to attention. “A woman. A woman burning alive. A gas station, a woman is gonna kill herself.”

Andy’s voice rose significantly in pitch. “What does he mean, going to? What is he, what is—”

“Shut up!” you and Dean told Andy.

“She gets triggered by a call on her cell,” Sam continued.

“When?”

“I don't know.” Dean helped his brother stand as he continued talking, “But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can't hurt her.”

Andy raised his hands up in surrender. “I didn't hurt anybody.”

“Yeah, not yet,” you said. Your head jerked toward the sound of a fire engine roaring and flashing by you on the highway next to you.

“Go,” Sam told you and Dean. The two of you sprinted to the car and headed off to follow the firetruck.

When you arrived, you were disheartened to see the first responders trying to put out the fire, keep civilians away, and recover the charred body of the woman who had died.

Dean immediately called Sam. “Hey, it's me. She's dead. Burned up, just like you said… Like minutes before I got here! I mean, the smell hasn't even cleared. What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start… Listen, you were with Andy when this whole thing went down, so it- it can't be him, it's gotta be somebody else doing this… What else is new? Well, we'll dig around here, see what else we can find.”

You and Dean roamed around talking to first responders and bystanders, posing as relatives of the woman who’d died. It was one of the things you felt guilty about in your line of work; posing as relatives of the dead to get information felt disrespectful to you. But alas, you had to, in this case.

You and Dean drove in silence back to the lot where Sam and Andy were talking on the bed of a broken truck as you rolled up.

“Victim's name was Holly Beckett, forty-one, single,” Dean explained to Sam.

“I called Ash back at the crime scene,” you began. “Said he found a Holly Beckett who gave birth when she was eighteen, back in ‘83. Same day you were born, Andy.”

“Andy, were you adopted?” Sam questioned.

He nodded as if it were obvious. “Well, yeah.”

Dean glared pointedly. “You were? And you neglected to mention that?”

“Never really came up,” Andy deadpanned. “I mean, I, I never knew my birth parents, and, and like you said my adopted mom died when I was a baby— do you, do you think this Holly woman could actually be my m—”

“I don't know,” you explained. “I tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only, sealed in the county office.”

Andy smirked. “Well, screw that.”

***

You and the brothers went through the drawers of file cabinets searching for phone records as Andy began leading the guards out of the room.

“Probably shouldn't have left you kids in here,” the guard said.

Andy rubbed a hand over his back. “No, it'll all be fine. Alright? Just go get a cup of coffee.” As the guard left, he continued, saying, “These aren't the 'droids you're looking for.”

You and Dean grinned. “Awesome,” the older brother said.

“I got it,” Sam said. “Andy, it's true. Holly Beckett was your birth mother.”

Andy looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Huh. Does anyone have a Vicodin?”

"No Vicodin. Weed, though," you told him, offering him a joint from a pack of pre-rolls in your jacket.

Andy considered but shook his head.

“Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too, I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them.”

“Yeah, but I— I didn't kill them,” he rushed out.

“We believe you,” Sam told him.

“But uh, who did?” Dean questioned.

“I think I got a pretty good guess,” Sam replied. “Holly Beckett gave birth to twins.”

Andy’s jaw dropped. “I have an evil twin.” He looked to you. "I may take that joint now."

Sam began flipping through another folder of documents. “Holly put you and your brother up for adoption. And you went to the Gallagher family, obviously, and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate.”

You looked over at the zoned-out Andy. “You okay? Still with us?”

He shook his head and looked over at you. “Um. What was my brother's name?”

Sam flipped to another page. “Here. Um, Ansen Weems. And he's got a local address.”

“He- He lives here?!”

Dean pushed a few buttons on the computer. “Let's get a look at him. Got his picture coming off from the DMV right now.”

“Dean, you can barely work a toaster. How’d you find his picture from the DMV?” you asked.

He just glared at you in response. You could tell he was messing with you, though.

You pulled the paper off the printer, eyes widening as you recognized the man in the picture. “Hate to kick you while you're freaked,” you said. “Take a look at that.”

When Andy caught sight of his friend from the café Weber looking back at him from the printed off image, his jaw dropped even further in shock.

***

It was a race against the clock to find where Weber had taken Andy’s ex-girlfriend, Tracy— the woman you spoke to at the diner— after Sam had another vision about her jumping off a bridge. Sam’s visions were getting more intense and painful; poor guy. Andy directed Dean to the bridge Sam described from his vision, and the four of you climbed out of the car in unison.

“(Y/N), Dean, you should stay back,” Sam said.

“No argument here. Had my head screwed with enough for one day,” Dean leaned against his car next to you. You watched Andy and Sam head to fend off Weber when you got an idea. “You got a Remington in the trunk? Or an FR F2?”

He smirked at you. “Have you met me?”

***

You and Dean found a spot in the trees far enough away from the scene below to get a clear shot at Weber without being able to hear one of his commands. Dean only had one FR F2, and you convinced him to hand it over to you. You were a damn near perfect shot and could easily take this guy out.

You lined up your shot, smiling smugly when you centered his head on the cross in the middle of the scope. ‘Gotcha,’ you thought. Suddenly, his head turned to you. He said something you couldn’t hear, but it was enough to get you to tuck the barrel of the rifle under your chin.

“(Y/N)! Stop it!” Dean tugged on your arm and managed to wrestle it away from the trigger when another gunshot rang out. As you came back into full control of your body, your breathing labored. You dropped the gun and collapsed backward into Dean’s chest, and his arms circled you as you turned your face into him.

“I got you, I got you,” he assured you as you wound your hands around his neck and buried your face in his chest.

“C’mon, we gotta get Sammy,” Dean said, pulling you down the hill to the bridge with him.

You found Sam passed out on the floor and sat with Dean while he did his best to wake his brother up. When he did finally awaken, the paramedics had begun to arrive. Andy’s skills were clearly developing given the way he spoke to the police about the incident.

“He shot himself. And you all saw it happen,” he told them. All of the policemen nodded in affirmation.

The paramedics fixed Sam’s shoulder and wrapped a disposable blanket around Tracy’s shoulders. You watched Tracy’s frightened gaze that she couldn’t quite meet Andy’s eyes with. You knew she wouldn’t ever see him the same, and that broke your heart a bit. Andy seemed to understand that, too.

“She won't even look at me,” he noted.

“Yeah, she's pretty shaken up,” Sam gently responded.

“No, it's— this is different. It's, uh, I never— I never used my mind-thing on her before. Before tonight. She's scared of me now.” His face fell as the words left his lips; as if it became real for him.

“Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but um, we have to get out of here. Here. I wrote down my cell.” Sam handed him a piece of paper with his phone number on it. “You don't have to be alone in this, alright? If anything comes up, just call me up.”

“Wha- what am I supposed to do now?”

“You be good, Andy. Or we'll be back,” Dean stated firmly.

“Looks like I was right,” Sam said as you walked back to the car with the brothers.

“About what?” Dean questioned.

“Andy. He’s a killer after all,” he responded.

“No, he's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved her life.” Dean pointed to you, his voice becoming firmer.

“Bottom line, he wasted somebody,” Sam argued.

“No, dude,” you jumped in. “He’s not a foaming-at-the-mouth psycho, though. He was pushed into that. All of us would’ve died had he not.”

“Weber was pushed too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death.”

You scoffed. “What’s your point, man?”

“Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone. Y'know, maybe that's what the demon's doing. Pushing us. Finding ways to break us,” Sam continued.

You considered Sam’s words. “I agree that everybody’s capable, but—”

Dean cut you off. “Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay? Quit worrying about it.”

“You know, I heard you before, Dean, when Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am.” Sam turned to his brother.

Dean scoffed. “That was mind control! I mean, it's like, like, that's like being roofied, man, that doesn't count.”

“What?”

“No. I'm- I'm calling do-over,” the older brother responded petulantly.

You giggled. “Are you five?”

“Doesn't matter. Look, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it,” he told Sam.

The brunet sighed, “Yeah, I guess.”

Dean’s phone rang through the uncomfortable silence. “Hello? Ellen. What's going on? Yeah, we'll be right there.”

***

When you arrived at the Roadhouse, Jo eyed Dean wantonly. You were repulsed, but you stomached your jealousy and pushed forward to Ellen. “What’s going on?” you asked her.

She motioned for you to sit at the bar. You did so, confused.

“Jo?” Ellen called to her daughter from behind the bar. “Go pull up another case of beer.”

“Mom,” she groaned.

Ellen stared her down. “Now. Please.”

As Jo left, Ellen leaned across the bar in front of you and the boys. “So. You uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Not really. No offense, it's just kind of a family thing.”

“Not anymore,” she responded. She dropped a stack of papers on the bar in front of you. “I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?”

Sam answered before Dean could. “Yeah, we think so.”

“Sam—” Dean scolded.

“Why?” Ellen asked.

You began, “Ellen, you’re lovely and all, but this really isn’t—”

She cut you off. “You mind your tongue with me, girl. This isn't just your war, this is war. Now, something big and bad's coming, and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best, all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here.”

You eyed her warningly as Sam spoke. “There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher, like me. And um... we all have some kind of ability.”

“Ability?” Ellen asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, uncomfortable.

“Yeah. Psychic ability. Me, I have, um, I have visions. Premonitions. I don't know, it's- it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us.”

“What kind of plans?”

“We don't really know for sure.”

“These people out there; these psychics— they dangerous?”

You and Dean jumped in quickly. “No.” Dean finished by saying, “Not all of them.”

Sam eyed his brother. “But some are. Some are very dangerous.”

“Okay, how many of them are we looking at?”

“We've been able to track a clear pattern so far. They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday,” Dean explained.

“That's not true,” Sam told his brother.

You turned to him, confused.

“Weber? Or Ansen Weems, or whatever his name is— I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. There's nothing out of the ordinary,” he explained.

Ellen took yours and Dean’s shock as an opportunity to rejoin the conversation. “Which breaks pattern. So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down.”

“And so who knows how many of 'em are really out there?” Sam added.

Jo walked up behind you and the boys.

“Jo, honey?” her mom said. “You'd better break out the whiskey instead.”

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