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[deadlydivergentgirl]

Damn 🔥 🥵 🔥

[deadlydivergentgirl]

Damn 🔥 🥵 🔥

[deadlydivergentgirl]

The Dark Lord

Summary: The reader gets caught stealing from the infamous Dark Lord Winchester. Instead of killing her though, he offers her a job for some reason...

Pairing: Dark Lord!Dean x employee!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, briefly mentioned torture/killing

A/N: Think of this as a slightly magical AU set in the present day. I might pick this up again if there seems to be interest in more!...

________

“I don’t care what the hell you do to me, I’m not-” You cut yourself off when a blonde woman in her thirties and sky high heels held out a cup of hot coffee. “Is that…espresso?”

“It’s a roasted blend from Guatemala, boss is big on it lately. He’s so boring and never let’s me give him anything but straight black but I like to serve all our guests something nice.” She set the cup in your hand, an artisanal drawing of a W set in the center. “It has notes of hazelnut and caramel.”

“Thank you?” you said, her eyes lighting up. “Is this…poisoned?” 

Her face fell so fast you felt awful for the way tears prickled her eyes. “Everyone always asks that. It’s just nice coffee.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, taking a sip and smiling. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning to leave the dark room you were sat in.

“It really is good coffee.” She perked up a little, nodding once. “It’s just…I couldn’t help but ask.”

You held up your chained hands, the woman giving a sad smile. “Dark Lord Winchester is really the sweetest man I’ve ever met. I have no idea why everyone that he has come in his office thinks he’s going to kill them.”

“He kills people all the time…over nothing…” you said. She laughed and your stomach dropped.

“Oh no, Lord Winchester doesn’t do that! I’ve never seen him kill a soul that didn’t deserve it. Well, maybe a few but I seriously doubt he’ll kill you! He doesn’t tend to kill women as often, just a little torture. I’m sure you’ll be fine!” You withered into your seat when she left.

At least you had good coffee before your demise.

You jumped when the door crashed open, hot coffee spilling over yourself. It dripped down your shirt and soaked into your jeans, your skin stinging when a blur passed your periphery. You swallowed thickly as a man in a black bomber jacket, dark gray t shirt and black jeans walked in front of you.  He crossed his muscular arms as he leaned back against the desk, peering down at you.

He looked like he wanted to kill you. Or fuck you. Or both.

“Hi, Dark Lord Winchester,” you squeaked out. He bent at his hips, leaning down, watching you slump down even further. “Oh fuck, just kill me now.”

“Not yet,” he hummed, straightening with a hard set jaw. He looked down his nose at you, making you feel like an ant under his mighty six foot one muscular frame. “My security caught you stealing from one of my warehouses. I’m told it was a prescription drug.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester,” you said quietly. You looked at your wet clothes, waiting for him to drag you down to his dungeon and rip you apart.

Instead a cell phone was tossed in your lap. You scrunched up your face and gazed up at him, Lord Winchester still staring you down. 

“Uh, is this my last call or something?” you asked. He breathed deeply, looking over your head. 

“Two options. Option one. I will kill you for stealing from me.”

“I’d like to hear option two,” you said quickly, Lord Winchester glaring at you.

“Option two. You work for me. I need an assistant and perhaps I’ll find you valuable enough to keep you alive long term.”

“Option two,” you said, nodding your head. He stood up straight and hummed. 

“I thought so. You’re dismissed,” he said. You glanced down at your cuffs, Lord Winchester ignoring you. He walked around behind his desk and sat, glancing at his computer. “Do not make me ask again.”

You scurried out of the chair, grasping the empty mug in one hand, cellphone in the other. 

“Y/L/N.” You froze, back to him. Fuck, he’d changed his mind. He was just toying with you. He was going to- “Get up to speed this afternoon. I expect you here to start eight am sharp.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester.” Quickly you left, pulling the door shut behind you. You let out a sigh, your overly friendly coffee bearing companion rushing around the corner with a smile. “I told you he wouldn’t kill you! Boss made me promise not to tell. I’m Donna by the way. Deputy Head of Security. I volunteered to be your new hire buddy!”

You blinked slowly at the blonde, tilting your head, her eyes drifting downward in alarm. “Oh no, you’ve burned yourself! Let’s get you out of those cuffs, to the infirmary and into a fresh change of clothes. Lord Winchester wants to go through all of your HR paperwork today and a brief tour before sending you home.”

“I uh,” you put a hand against your head, shaking it out. “Why did he give me a job and not kill me?”

“He must like you. Normally he kills people or tortures them or makes them pay him back with hefty interest. Oh!” She pulled out a thin envelope from her back pocket, handing it to you. “This is your offer letter. It’s not really an offer, more of you have to accept or you die sort of thing but he wanted to make sure you got this.”

You felt like you were in a strange dream as you tore it open, slowly walking by Donna’s side down a hallway. “So Michael is our staff doctor. He’ll check your arms-”

You nearly fell when you’d read the salary on the offer letter. Donna caught your waist, alarm written all over her face. “Oh my god. I’m calling for-”

You shoved the paper in her face, taping the bolded line. “Is this a joke? He’s paying me this much?”

Donna laughed, urging you to walk forward again. 

“Six figures? Six figures?!” you screeched, Donna shaking her head. “What-”

“Working for Lord Winchester is lucrative but…there’s an expectation of discretion. I mean, he is the Dark Lord of the land. It’s not the sort of job you want to slack off at.” 

“Wonderful.”

It was late, well into the evening, when you’d finished with your tour. You were in the lobby of Lord Winchester’s fortress, rubbing your eyes. Michael had given you a pair of scrubs to change into while your stained clothes were sent to the launder. Thankfully he’d deemed your skin only irritated from the hot coffee, not burned. Most of the day had been in HR, Donna sitting in to help guide you through your options.

Options like free healthcare. A pension. On-site housing. As his assistant, or “Personal Executive to The Dark Lord” as your title in the payroll system stated, you were expected to live in the fortress and move in this weekend. All covered and utilities paid for by the company. 

A chef that cooked all your meals, if you were so inclined. Shuttle services to and from school in town with a tutor available after school to help with homework. A grand library for kids to study in and for the adults to further their own educational studies if they chose. There was even an inter-company softball league that got quite competitive. 

Dark Lord Winchester on paper was the best fucking boss in the world.

A throat cleared behind you, making you jump and drop the stack of papers in your hands. You spun around, Dark Lord Winchester standing there.

“Sorry, sir,” you said, kneeling down, attempting to pick up the papers as quickly as possible. To your surprise, he dropped to one knee, leaning his body and grabbing a folder that had your company credit card inside. He held it out to you, deep green eyes watching you as you hesitated to take it.

“If you’re going to work for me, you can’t be scared shitless all the time.” You snatched the folder, his eyes raising briefly before he stood tall. He held out a hand, your own eyes wide. “This is where you put your hand in mine and I help you stand up.”

You swallowed, doing as told, his strong arm effortlessly pulling you up.

“Look at that. You touched me and didn’t turn to dust,” he chuckled. You only stared, Lord Winchester looking over your head. “Let me make something clear to you. I treat my employees extremely well. In return, I expect their best work and their loyalty. If you show up to work and do a good job, there is no reason to fear me.”

“How do I know I’m doing a good job?” you whispered. He looked down to you, pursing his lips.

“You’re the damn Executive Assistant to The Dark Lord. You ask a question, you do it with confidence. Ask correctly and I’ll answer.”

“How will I know I’m doing my job well?” you said, holding his gaze this time. 

“Any woman that would risk stealing from the Dark Lord, knowing very well what I do to thieves, to get medicine for their kid brother? That is the kind of woman that I know will do spectacular in this job.” 

You parted your lips, Dark Lord Winchester glancing at them before looking away. “How do you-”

“I know lots of things.” He checked the dark rolex on his wrist, frowning. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home myself. Wait on the front steps.”

You watched him go down a different hallway, your head going a million miles an hour.

What the fuck was happening?

You stepped outside and five minutes later, an older black Impala, very nicely taken care of, pulled up, Dark Lord Winchester behind the wheel. You slid in the passenger seat, a wonderful aroma in the air. He drove you home in silence save for the soft rock music playing through the speakers.

Your face burned when he drove that beautiful car through your less than glamorous neighborhood and as soon as he pulled to a stop in front of your very small rental, you were getting out. 

“Y/L/N,” he chided. You stopped halfway, Lord Winchester reaching into the backseat and pulling over the back a large white bag. “For you and your brother. Dinner and his medication for a few months. Michael will be able to refill it when it’s up and can schedule a physical with him to check if his treatment needs to alter. Please apologize to your brother from me. He’s likely frightened being alone judging by the way every light is on inside.”

You shook your head, your lip tugging up. He narrowed his eyes as your smirk grew. “What is that look for?”

“Dark Lord Winchester my ass. You’re a good person, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Nah, I’m starting to see this for what it is. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re nice deep down.”

“I’m not nice,” he growled. You took the bag from his hand, softening your smile. “Do not think I’m kind.”

“Oh, of course not,” you said, holding up the bag. You got out, closing the door behind you. But you bent down, leaning into the open window. “Thank you. He…his asthma’s been getting worse lately. This will really help us. All of it will help.”

He was quiet, looking out at the dark road. “A car will pick you up at 7:30. Movers will come by Saturday morning to pack up your things.”

“Goodnight, Lord Winchester,” you said, stepping back.

“It’s Dean,” he said, revving the engine, making your heart race. He took off, your chest still thumping when you went inside. 

“Kyle! I’m home with dinner!” You called. Kyle came rushing out of the hallway, a blanket pulled over his head. “I’m so sorry I’m late, buddy. Did you get scared?”

“No,” said the twelve year old, doing an awful job of hiding his relief. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you find out for us?” You handed him the bag, Kyle rushing back to the kitchen with it. “How was school?”

“Fine.” He said nothing more as you entered, pleasantly surprised to find a balanced dinner of chicken, vegetables and some sweet potatoes inside. “Is this take out?”

“No. I uh, got a new job today,” you said, opening the box that had his medicine inside. “Hey. Got you a refill.”

“What’s your new job?” he asked, taking a plate from you and scooting into his spot at the small two seater table.

“I uh…work for Dark Lord Winchester. We’re, uh, moving on Saturday to live at the fortress. You’ll have your own room and there’s some other kids that live there too for you to play with. He uh, actually wanted me to tell you how sorry he was for keeping me late tonight.”

“Really? Cool.” You rolled your eyes. “Does he actually wear a skull mask and a black cloak?”

“No,” you laughed. “He looks very normal. Maybe you’ll get to meet him someday.”

“Cool,” he said again, frowning when you pointed at his untouched vegetables. “Y/N-“

“Eat them or Dark Lord Winchester won’t be happy…” you chided, Kyle shrinking down into his seat, reluctantly taking a bite, a flash of surprise on his face.

“These are way better than when you make them!” He started to scarf down the brussels sprouts as you sighed.

“I’m not dead and you’re eating veggies for once. I’ll take that as a win for today.”

The Next Morning

“Good morning, Lord Winchester,” you said as you rose from your desk outside his office on the far end of the second floor, dressed in skinny jeans, a bright yellow sleeveless blouse and an oversized blazer. Dean looked you up and down, his eyebrows raising. “HR said the dress code-“

“If I wanted everyone to wear suits, I’d have everyone wear them. Your outfit is fine. You’re probably not going to wear heels with the running around you’ll do,” he said, entering his office, waving for you to follow after. His legs looked long in the dark denim that clung to his thighs. He wore a white long sleeve Henley shirt with a navy button up over top, sleeves rolled up his forearms. “If you would stop staring at me could we get started?”

Your face flushed as you sat in the chair opposite his desk, Dean sitting with a groan and greedily sucking down a cup of coffee. 

“So your job is to make my life easier,” he said, opening his laptop, frowning at it. “I get a lot of…requests from my department heads. I need you to be a buffer between me and them for the day to day. I also need you to handle pop ups and act as a sounding board for myself.”

“HR went over the expectations with me,” you said, Dean grunting as he drank more coffee again. 

“Great. I need you to start with brainstorming ideas for how to rescue my brother from Crowley. We’ll meet after lunch to discuss.”

“King of The Dark Lands Crowley?” Dean hummed. “Isn’t he…”

“A demon? Oh yeah,” he said, giving you a barely there smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem for a little thief like you.”

________

A/N: Interested in more? Let me know with a comment!

[deadlydivergentgirl]

Jacklesversebingo 2024 Masterlist :

How does it feel to write about something that brings a smile to your face? It feels truly wonderful ❤

I came across @Jacklesversebingo a year ago, but today marks the moment I finally join in. Was it a lack of inspiration? A shortage of courage? Who can say !

I rarely share my writing, yet in this space, especially through the characters portrayed by Jensen Ackles, I find a unique sense of peace. So, welcome to my world, where stories flow freely. Feel free to share your thoughts with me 👀

[deadlydivergentgirl]

God..i liiike it 😱❤

Bless me father

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Summary: Dean, still dressed as a priest, shows up at Y/N's room, teasing her about catching her staring earlier. Their playful banter turns more serious when Y/N jokingly "confesses" her feelings.

Warnings: 18+ ish, Build up to spice🌶

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The archive was unusually quiet today, the only sound the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional sigh from Charlie, sitting across from me in the bunkers archive. I tried to focus on the old book in front of me, some ancient text about pagan rituals or whatever.

Research was never my strong suit. Charlie, on the other hand, was in her element. I could practically see her eyes glowing with excitement as she flipped through pages like they held the answers to life itself.

I slouched further into my seat, fiddling with the corner of the page. It was hard to concentrate when your mind was somewhere else—or, more specifically, on someone else.

That someone burst through the library doors, accompanied by the familiar echo of heavy footsteps. Sam and Dean.

And they were dressed like priests.

I swallowed hard and quickly looked back down at my book, pretending to be completely uninterested. Sam was saying something about the case they were working on, but I wasn’t listening. Not with Dean standing there in all his dark-suited, clerical-collared glory. It didn’t help that he was smirking as usual, that damn smile he wore like a weapon, unaware of the effect it had on people.

Especially me.

“Y/N, Charlie,” Sam greeted as they both approached the table.

I glanced up, arching a brow like this was all no big deal. “Father Winchester, Father Winchester,” I said dryly, nodding toward them like I was in on the joke. “You two here to take our confessions? Or just smite a couple of sinners?”

Dean’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin as he pulled out a chair, sitting next to me with an exaggerated sigh. “Careful, sweetheart. I hear sarcasm’s the devil’s tongue.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the flutter in my chest. “If sarcasm's the devil’s tongue, then I’m running Hell.”

Dean chuckled, his voice low and warm, but it didn’t help that I could feel the weight of his presence beside me. He had no idea I was stealing glances, trying to keep my cool while my heart did embarrassing backflips. I bit the inside of my cheek and pretended to be fascinated by a diagram of a ritual in the book, all while avoiding looking directly at him.

But, of course, Charlie noticed.

She kicked me under the table, hard enough to make me jump. My knee banged against the wood, and I cursed under my breath, shooting her a glare. Her face was all innocence, but her raised brow and smug grin gave her away. She knew. She always knew.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” Dean’s voice was low, teasing, and I realized my reaction had caught his attention. Great.

“Yeah, you good?” Charlie added, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I felt my face flush slightly, and I quickly plastered on my best sarcastic smile, leaning back in my chair as if the entire moment was nothing. “Oh, you know, just Charlie’s way of keeping me awake. Research can be so boring.” I shot her a mock glare. “Thanks for the jolt, by the way.”

“Anytime,” Charlie said sweetly, giving me a wink.

Dean’s eyes stayed on me for a second longer than usual, his smirk faltering as if he was trying to figure something out. I could feel his gaze like a weight, and for a second, I thought maybe he saw through my sarcasm. But before I could overthink it, he leaned back in his chair and stretched, looking completely at ease.

“Boring, huh? Well, maybe a priest showing up will spice things up a bit,” he said, shooting me that cocky grin of his.

I snorted, folding my arms across my chest. “Yeah, sure, because the only thing more exciting than research is two fake priests trying to pull off a case.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but Sam cut in, ever the voice of reason. “Alright, enough. We’ve got a case to crack, and we need to get through this research before we head out.”

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Fine, let’s get to it then. Before Charlie kicks me again.”

Charlie grinned, and Dean shot me one last look before turning his attention to the books in front of him.

I exhaled quietly, glad to avoid his gaze for now. But deep down, I knew that hiding how I felt around Dean was becoming harder with every sarcastic joke and witty retort. And if Charlie kept kicking me, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer.

--

I insisted to rent a motel. Claiming I needed a window with a view to sleep. But honestly staying 24/7 around Dean made me mad with need and I didn't want to ruin our friendship.

Later that night, I was in my room, half-heartedly flipping through channels on the tiny motel TV. The case had been exhausting, and honestly, I was ready to just pass out. My brain was still buzzing from all the sarcastic banter I’d thrown at Dean earlier, trying to cover up how flustered I’d felt with him sitting so close, still in that stupid priest outfit.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so when I got up to open the door, I assumed it was Charlie or maybe Sam needing something from the store.

But no. It was Dean... and he was still dressed like a priest.

My mouth went dry instantly as I blinked up at him. He gave me a slow grin, leaning casually against the doorframe, his hands tucked in his pockets. “You ready for that confession now?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

I couldn’t help it—I laughed, but it was nervous, my heart racing in my chest. “Oh, is that what this is?” I teased back, trying to keep my cool. “Here to save my soul, Father Winchester?”

Dean chuckled and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The soft click of the lock felt louder than it should’ve, and I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the room felt with him in it.

“I don’t know about saving your soul,” he said, taking a step closer, his eyes fixed on me in that intense way that always made my pulse spike. “But I did notice you staring earlier. Almost drooling, actually.” His lips quirked up into a smirk. “I was just wondering what this sinner was thinking about.”

I could feel the heat rising to my face, but I wasn’t going to let him get the upper hand. Not now, not after years of back-and-forth banter. “Oh, you know,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the table, trying to look nonchalant. “The usual. Wondering what my best friend’s lips might taste like.”

Dean’s smirk faltered, just for a second, replaced by something darker, something more serious. He stepped closer, the space between us disappearing fast. His eyes flicked to my lips, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, before I could second-guess myself, Dean leaned in and kissed me.

It wasn’t tentative or shy—it was all heat and want, his hand cupping the back of my neck as he pulled me toward him. My mind went blank, my body reacting instantly, melting into him as if this had been a long time coming.

And maybe it had.

When he pulled back, just slightly, his breath was warm against my lips. “That answer your question?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed, my hands gripping the front of his shirt as if I could ground myself. But my mind was racing, my pulse thundering in my ears, and I wasn’t ready to stop yet. Not even close.

“I’m not done with my confession,” I whispered, looking up at him through my lashes, my voice barely steady. “I’ve also been wondering what his hands would feel like… on my body.”

Dean’s eyes darkened, and his hand slid from my neck down to my waist, pulling me flush against him. His thumb brushed over the hem of my shirt, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin.

“Keep going,” he said softly, his voice like a challenge, his lips ghosting over mine again.

I bit my lip, my breath hitching as his hand slid beneath my shirt, his touch warm and firm against my skin. “And,” I continued, my voice catching slightly, “how good it’d feel to have him pressed against me, like this.”

Dean growled low in his throat and kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands exploring, as if testing the boundaries of what I wanted. My back hit the edge of the table, and I gasped against his mouth, feeling the heat between us building with every passing second.

“You want me to stop?” he whispered against my lips, his hand tracing slow, teasing patterns on my skin.

I shook my head, breathless. “No. Don’t stop.”

Dean smirked, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth before he trailed kisses down my jawline, sending sparks of electricity through me with each touch. “Then tell me what else you’ve been thinking about,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

I couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped me, the sound mingling with a sigh as his mouth found the sensitive spot just beneath my ear. “I’m not sure I should say,” I teased, though my voice was shaky now, my pulse racing as his hands continued their slow, torturous exploration of my body.

“Confession’s good for the soul, Y/N,” Dean whispered, his breath hot against my skin.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip as his hand slid up my thigh, pushing the last bit of coherent thought from my mind. “Fine,” I managed to say, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “I’ve wondered how good it would feel… to have him... inside me.”

Dean’s hand stilled for just a moment, and I could feel his breath hitch against my neck. His lips found mine again, and this time, the kiss was hungry, urgent, and I could feel the weight of every unspoken word between us.

“Let’s see if we can make that confession come true,” he growled.

And before I could say another word, we were lost in each other, every touch, every kiss sending us spiraling deeper into the inevitable. He murmured between out kisses.

"Start praying sweetheart, you're going to need it."

--

Let me know what you think, like, share or comment <3 If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

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[deadlydivergentgirl]

✨His second exception - Pt. 16/?✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, Ben being a bit rough, fluff

Word Count: 5866

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 16 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙

“Get off your skirt”, he ordered, his voice low and commanding, laced with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. There was no room for argument in his tone, and you knew immediately what was coming. This was Ben’s way of dealing with the day’s emotional fallout—his bruised ego from finding out you’d gotten yourself off without him, and the shame he felt from his earlier confession. He wasn’t going to talk about it anymore; he was going to channel everything into this moment, asserting control in the only way he knew how.

For a second, you hesitated, a mix of anticipation and trepidation coursing through you. But you knew that this was what he needed right now—to reclaim some sense of power and control, not just over you, but over himself. And despite the tension, you trusted him. You knew how much he cared, how much he loved you, even if it sometimes manifested in ways that were rougher, more primal.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down and slowly unzipped your skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a soft whisper of fabric. Ben’s eyes darkened as he watched, his expression unyielding as he took in the sight of you standing there, vulnerable and exposed. The air between you crackled with a tense, electric energy, and you felt your pulse quicken under his gaze.

“Good girl”, he murmured, the praise a sharp contrast to the harshness of his earlier command. But there was no softness in his tone—it was filled with a possessive satisfaction, a need to reassert his dominance over you, over the situation. He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to grasp your hips with a firmness that bordered on roughness, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you toward him.

You gasped softly at the suddenness of his touch, your breath hitching as he pressed you up against the desk. “Ben…”, you started, but he silenced you with a hard look, one that told you that now wasn’t the time for words.

This was his way of coping, of reclaiming what he felt had slipped away from him. He wasn’t going to be gentle—not after everything that had happened today. But you also knew that, despite the intensity, there was a deep current of care beneath it all, a need to reconnect with you on a level that went beyond words.

Ben’s hands moved with a practiced efficiency, pushing you down onto the desk, positioning you exactly where he wanted you. There was a sense of inevitability to it, a surrender on your part that you knew would give him what he needed to feel whole again. As his hands roamed over your body, you could feel the controlled desperation in his touch, the way he was holding himself back just enough to make sure you felt the force of his need without crossing any lines.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “You’re mine. Don’t ever forget that”.

The click of his belt and the sound of his zipper were stark against the otherwise quiet room, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Ben's actions were precise, his urgency evident in the way he moved. As he adjusted you on the desk, his hand reached down, pulling your panties aside with a swift, practiced motion. His fingers grazed your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He steadied you with one hand on your hip, his grip firm and unyielding, providing both support and a sense of control. With his other hand, he guided himself into position, the intimacy of the moment underscoring the raw need that had driven him here.

You felt the careful alignment, the moment when everything came together, the connection between you palpable and undeniable.

With a deep, guttural growl, Ben pushed into you hard, the force of his movement reflecting all the pent-up frustration and emotion he had been holding back. But even in that intensity, his instinct to protect you remained. His arm wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you steady against him, ensuring your belly didn’t press against the hard surface of the desk.

His other hand gripped your hip with a possessive strength, keeping you anchored as he began to move. Each thrust was powerful but controlled, the primal edge softened only by his awareness of your pregnancy. He was rough, yes, but in a way that still took care of you, ensuring that you felt his need without compromising your safety.

Ben’s breath was hot against your skin, his voice a low growl as he murmured, “Mine”, punctuated by a deep thrust, reaffirming the connection between you.

As Ben’s movements continued, each thrust deeper and more possessive than the last, you found yourself pressed tightly against him, your palms flat against the cool surface of the desk.

You whimpered, overwhelmed by the intensity, unable to form words or coherent thoughts. All you could do was feel—the raw, overwhelming presence of Ben, the way he claimed you, the deep, grounding connection that pulsed between you despite the storm of emotions.

Ben’s voice was a low rumble in your ear, each word laced with possession and a fierce tenderness. “This is what you need, isn’t it?”, he grumbled.

“Remind you what it’s like to be mine”, he mumbled, his voice low and almost reverent. The words were spoken in a rough, almost desperate tone, as if he were trying to etch his presence into every part of you, to make sure you felt his claim beyond just the physical.

His grip tightened, pulling you closer as his pace increased. “I need you to remember”, he continued, his voice breaking slightly with emotion, “to remember what it means to be with me”.

As the intensity escalated, Ben’s actions became even more purposeful and powerful. His hand, previously firm on your hip, slid around to the front, finding the sensitive area between your legs with precision. His touch was intense and focused, pressing just hard enough to send a surge of sensations through you.

His grip was strong, his fingers skilled as they moved with a deep knowledge of what made you unravel. The sudden, overwhelming stimulus coupled with his relentless pace brought you quickly to the edge. You felt a rush of heat, a building pressure that promised release.

As you shook in his arms, overwhelmed by the sensation, Ben’s breath against your neck grew more ragged, matching the tremors that coursed through your body. “That’s it”, he growled softly, his voice a mix of triumph and deep satisfaction as he felt you come undone under his touch.

As your climax washed over you, the tremors of your release seemed to trigger Ben’s own. His breath caught, a low grunt escaping him as he drove into you with one last, hard thrust. You could feel him tense, his grip tightening on you as he reached his peak, the deep sound of his satisfaction filling the air.

Ben’s movements slowed, each breath he took seemed to steady him as he remained close, still joined with you. There was a moment of quiet intensity as he pressed his forehead against your back, his body heaving with the effort of controlling his breathing.

The air around you was thick with the heat of your combined exertions, and as he finally relaxed, his arms wrapped around you more gently now, holding you close in a tender, protective embrace. His presence was enveloping, a solid reassurance of his commitment and desire for you.

You remained there for a moment, trying to catch your breath, your body still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. Ben, however, was already pulling away, the shift in his demeanor subtle but unmistakable. He withdrew carefully, tugging himself back into his pants and fastening his belt with a swift motion. His expression was distant now, the raw emotion from earlier replaced with his familiar stoic calm.

“We’re leaving in an hour”, he mumbled, his voice gruff, as he turned and walked toward the door without looking back. His steps were purposeful, his tone signaling that the conversation was over—for now at least. It was his way of regaining control, of putting up the walls again after showing so much vulnerability.

You stood there, still leaning against the desk, feeling the abrupt change in the atmosphere. The closeness from moments ago seemed to evaporate with his departure, leaving you alone to gather yourself. You took a deep breath, trying to process everything, your mind still swirling with the emotions that had been laid bare between you.

Ben, as always, was complicated—his tenderness wrapped in layers of harshness, his love fierce but sometimes hard to access. You knew him well enough to understand that this was how he coped, how he protected himself from feeling too exposed. But even so, the abruptness of his exit left you feeling a little off balance.

You straightened up, fixing your clothes and running a hand through your hair as you prepared yourself for whatever came next. You had an hour, but you knew Ben was already compartmentalizing, putting everything into boxes in his mind as he always did. You, however, were still lingering in the moment, feeling the weight of the connection you’d just shared.

Later that night, after the whirlwind of emotions and intensity had subsided, the house felt quieter, calmer. You stood in the kitchen, freshly showered and feeling more at ease, dressed in your cozy pajamas as you prepared dinner. The warm, homely atmosphere was amplified by the crackling fire that Ben had just lit in the living room. The temperatures had begun to dip with the arrival of the colder season, and the fire’s warmth filled the space, making everything feel more peaceful.

Ben had calmed down significantly from earlier, his usual brooding intensity now replaced with a more serene presence. You could hear him moving around in the living room, probably adding more wood to the fire or settling in with a drink. Despite the earlier tension, things between you felt steadier now, the air cleared after everything that had happened.

As you reached up to grab a kitchen towel from the top shelf, you realized it was just out of your reach. You stretched, standing on your tiptoes, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite get it.

“Soldier Boy!”, you called out, a little laugh escaping you as you gave up trying to reach the shelf. “Can you help me with something?”.

You heard his heavy footsteps approaching, and a moment later, Ben appeared in the doorway, his expression soft, the earlier roughness gone. His eyes swept over you, taking in the sight of you in your pajamas, and for a brief moment, his lips quirked into a small smile.

“What’s the problem?”, he asked, his voice still gruff but without the edge.

“I can’t reach the towels”, you admitted with a sheepish smile, pointing to the top shelf where he had stocked them.

He huffed softly in amusement, walking over to you without a word. His large frame made the task effortless—he reached up, grabbed the towels, and handed them to you with a casual ease that made you laugh.

“You really shouldn’t put them so high”, you teased, taking the towels from his hand.

Ben shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you just need to grow taller”.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. “Or maybe you just need to think about us short people once in a while”.

He chuckled, his rough exterior softening as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before turning back toward the living room. The warmth from the fire mixed with the comfort of the moment, making everything feel settled, at least for now.

As Ben disappeared back into the living room, you returned to preparing dinner, a small smile lingering on your face as the warmth from Ben’s brief touch lingered around you.

Half an hour later, with dinner finally finished, you joined Ben in the living room. He was sitting by the fire, the glow from the flames casting warm shadows across the room. You walked over to him, holding a plate of steak and potatoes—his favorite, something you knew would lift his spirits. You just wanted to make him feel good, to show him in your own way that everything was okay between you both, even after the rough day.

As you handed him the plate, he looked up at you with an appreciative glint in his eyes, taking the meal with a soft grunt of thanks. You knew how much Ben adored a good steak, and the way his eyes lingered on the food before he started eating told you you’d made the right call.

“Figured you could use this”, you said with a small smile, settling down next to him with your own plate. You had made yourself a light meal of veggies, something you knew you could eat without feeling sick.

Ben cut into the steak, taking a bite and letting out a satisfied hum. “You know how to make a man feel spoiled”, he said, his tone gruff but filled with appreciation.

You laughed softly, taking a small bite of your veggies. “Just wanted to make sure you’re feeling good”, you replied. “It’s been a long day”.

He glanced over at you, his expression softening. “Yeah”, he agreed, “but this helps”.

The two of you sat in companionable silence for a while, the crackling of the fire and the warmth of the room creating a calming atmosphere. You could feel Ben relaxing more and more as he ate, the tension that had lingered between you earlier finally dissipating.

The rest of the evening passed peacefully, the earlier stress and tension replaced with a quiet, comforting closeness.

A month had passed, and now, at the beginning of December, you were five months pregnant. The changes in your body were becoming undeniable. By now, your small bump had become noticeable, no matter what you tried to wear to conceal it. The reality of your pregnancy was something you could no longer hide, not from yourself and certainly not from others.

The nausea hadn’t let up entirely, and you still battled waves of exhaustion. To make matters worse, in the past few days, you had started to experience back pain—a dull, constant ache that added another layer of discomfort to your already tired body. Despite these challenges, you’d managed to maintain your weight, keeping as healthy as you could with Ben’s constant hovering and encouragement.

Now, sitting in the doctor’s office, you waited for your regular checkup. Ben was right beside you, as he always was during your appointments, his large hand resting protectively on your knee. His presence was a steady source of reassurance, even when he didn’t say much. His gaze was focused, keeping an eye on everything as the nurse checked your vitals and administered the necessary vitamins.

You glanced down at your belly, the small but definite bump, and placed your hand over it absentmindedly. You felt Ben’s eyes on you, and when you looked up, his expression was softer than usual. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that despite all his earlier worries, he was in awe of the life growing inside you.

The doctor came in, a clipboard in hand, and smiled warmly at the two of you. “Everything’s looking good so far”, she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Your vitals are stable, and your weight gain is on track. Have you been experiencing any new symptoms since the last checkup?”.

You exchanged a quick glance with Ben before answering. “The nausea is still there, though not as bad as it was before”, you admitted. “But I’ve started getting some back pain in the last few days”.

The doctor nodded, making a note on the clipboard. “That’s pretty common around this stage, especially as the baby grows and your body adjusts. We can recommend some exercises or stretches that might help with the discomfort. But overall, you’re doing well. Just keep listening to your body and taking it easy”.

Ben, who had been mostly quiet, finally spoke up. “And the vitamins? Are they working?”. His voice held a hint of his usual gruffness, but you could tell he was just making sure you were getting everything you needed.

The doctor smiled reassuringly. “Yes, the vitamins are doing their job. We’ll continue monitoring, but so far, everything’s going as it should”.

As the appointment wrapped up, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief. Despite the nausea, the exhaustion, and now the back pain, the baby was healthy, and that was what mattered most.

Once you were back in the car with Ben, you sighed softly, leaning your head back against the seat. “Well, looks like hiding this bump isn’t an option anymore”, you said with a small smile, resting your hand over your belly.

Ben glanced over at you as you rested in the passenger seat, his hand still loosely gripping the wheel. The corners of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah, I guess it’s about time we´re filling in the team”.

You chuckled softly, knowing how protective Ben had been over you these last few months. The idea of finally telling everyone about the pregnancy didn’t feel as daunting now that you were both more settled into the idea. “Tomorrow, then”, you mumbled, your hand resting on your bump, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves about making the big announcement. “We’ll tell them”.

Today, though, was a day for just the two of you. A day off from work, a break from the constant chaos of your lives. Ben had insisted that it was time to start getting the baby’s room ready, and you couldn’t argue with him. He had already repainted the walls, making the space feel fresh and new after what had happened in the room before. It was time to turn it into something positive, something that symbolized the future instead of the past.

“We’ve got a lot to get today”, Ben muttered, his focus shifting to the task ahead. “Changing table, some shelves or storage. I want this room to be ready when the baby comes”.

You smiled, appreciating how much effort Ben was putting into this. He was taking the preparation for the baby seriously, making sure that everything was perfect. You hadn’t even found out the baby’s gender yet, but that didn’t seem to matter. Ben wanted everything to be just right, regardless. And so did you.

As you pulled up to the baby center, you felt a small pang of excitement mixed with the usual fatigue that had been your constant companion throughout the pregnancy. Ben parked the car and quickly got out, moving to your side to help you out of the passenger seat, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as you walked toward the entrance together.

Inside, the store was filled with rows upon rows of cribs, bassinets, changing tables, and every baby accessory you could think of. It was overwhelming at first, the sheer amount of choices almost making your head spin. Ben, however, seemed determined. He guided you toward the furniture section, his eyes scanning over the options, already mentally measuring how things would fit in the room.

“What do you think?”, he asked, pointing to a sleek, white changing table that caught his eye.

You smiled, leaning into him slightly as you considered it. “I like it. Simple but sturdy”. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly again, as if the baby could sense your thoughts.

Ben grunted in agreement, running his hand over the wood, inspecting it like he was inspecting a weapon, making sure it was strong enough, safe enough for his child. “Yeah, this’ll do”.

As you and Ben wandered through the aisles, you both agreed to keep the crib you already had. It was solid, well-built, and sentimental—it just felt right to use it. But everything else needed to be purchased.

The store was a maze of baby essentials, from strollers and changing tables to high chairs and gliders. Ben’s hand never left your waist as you walked through the aisles, his presence a constant reminder of how invested he was in this. He’d occasionally pick up an item and inspect it, like a changing table with drawers.

After picking out the essentials, you wandered over to the smaller items—soft blankets, baby clothes, and the little things that made your heart swell. Ben was surprisingly good at picking out things, holding up a tiny pair of socks with a smirk. “These are fucking ridiculously small”, he muttered, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe that something so tiny could fit a human being.

You laughed softly, taking the socks from his hand. “Just wait until we see the baby wearing them”.

That seemed to get to him, and for a moment, Ben looked a little dazed, his eyes softening as he imagined the tiny person you were both preparing for.

As you continued picking out more essentials, Ben drifted away from the baby section momentarily, his eyes landing on a shelf full of products aimed at moms-to-be—body oils, lotions, and various other items designed to ease the physical toll of pregnancy. He picked up a few bottles, reading the labels with a focused frown, clearly making mental notes on what might help you. It was sweet, seeing how much attention he paid to every detail, always thinking ahead.

You, on the other hand, were still wrapped up in the moment, carefully folding a tiny onesie when a thought suddenly hit you. The idea of your child having powers—something that had been a quiet concern in the back of your mind—came rushing to the forefront. You glanced down at the little clothes in your hand and mumbled under your breath, “I just hope the baby won’t have laser eyes or something”.

“You think it’ll have powers from the beginning?”, you asked, your voice slightly shaky as you looked over at him, suddenly feeling a bit terrified at the prospect.

Ben had just effortlessly picked up a huge adult-sized massage chair, holding it like it weighed nothing, when he caught your worried expression. He set the chair down with ease, walking over to you with that familiar protective glint in his eyes.

Ben shook his head, sensing the worry in your voice. His large hand found its way to your back, rubbing gentle circles as he spoke. “Worst case, we’ll figure it out”, he said in a low, reassuring tone. “If the kid has powers from the start, I’ll take care of it until it get it under control. I won’t let anything bad happen”.

But instead of easing your concern, his words made your chest tighten. The thought of your child having powers was already frightening enough, but the idea that Ben might have to take over, leaving you unable to care for your own baby, made your heart ache. It wasn’t just about safety—it was about missing out on precious moments, the ones every parent should experience with their newborn.

Your throat tightened as your eyes began to water, the fear and sadness bubbling up before you could stop it. You blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears, but the emotion overwhelmed you. “I don’t want that”, you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I don’t want to miss out on our baby’s life because of… because of powers”.

Ben frowned, clearly not expecting the shift in your mood. He immediately cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to slip down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, come on, don’t fucking do that”, he murmured, his voice softer now, full of concern. “You’re not going to miss anything. We’ll figure it out together. I’m not taking anything away from you, alright?”.

But the thought had already planted itself in your mind, and it hurt more than you’d anticipated. “I just… I don’t want you to have to take over everything”, you admitted, your voice small. “I want to be there. I want to hold our baby, take care of it, and not feel like I’m missing out because I can’t handle it”.

Ben’s face softened at your words, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You’re not going to miss a damn thing”, he whispered firmly into your hair. “I’ll be right there with you. We’ll handle it together, no matter what. You’re the mother—nothing’s going to change that”.

You clung to him, letting his warmth and the strength of his arms ground you. He stood there holding you for what felt like forever, not rushing you, just letting you process everything in your own time.

“Are those the hormones kicking in that everyone talks about?”, he asked, his voice warm and teasing, though the tenderness in his tone was unmistakable.

You let out a small laugh through your tears, the weight in your chest starting to lift as his words broke through the tension. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Maybe”, you admitted, your voice still a little shaky, but the corner of your mouth lifting into a faint smile.

Ben brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers gentle as they lingered against your skin. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head down toward yours. “Come on, baby”, he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. “Let’s get out of here and head to Taco Bell”.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you laughed softly, knowing full well how much Ben usually fussed over making sure you ate healthy for the baby. Taco Bell wasn’t exactly on his list of approved meals, but he also knew how much you loved it, especially during moments like this when you needed a little comfort food.

“Really? Taco Bell?”, you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were all about the greens and vitamins”.

Ben chuckled, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek. “You’ve been good, taking care of yourself. One Taco Bell trip won’t hurt, and I know how much you love it. Consider it a little treat”.

Your heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. “You’re the best”, you said softly, standing on your toes to give him a quick kiss.

Ben smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist as you both made your way toward the store’s exit. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it”, he joked, but the fondness in his eyes told you otherwise.

After making your purchases, you both headed home, but not before stopping by Taco Bell. The simple pleasure of indulging in your favorite food brought a sense of lightness to the day. Ben watched with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as you dug into your meal, the tension from earlier easing even further.

Once home, Ben wasted no time diving into the baby room project. He was determined, carefully setting up the furniture while you settled down on the couch with some tea. The sound of him working filled you with a sense of peace.

“How’s it looking so far?”, you called out, playfully peeking your head into the room.

Ben groaned softly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he glanced at you with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Stupid-ass instructions”, he grumbled, shaking his head. “Whoever wrote these must’ve had a fucking death wish, ‘cause this doesn’t make any sense”.

You chuckled, stepping into the room and leaning against the doorframe as you watched him wrestle with a piece of furniture that clearly wasn’t cooperating. “Let me guess, they expect you to use tiny screws that somehow don’t even fit?”.

Ben gave you a look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Exactly. This thing’s a fucking puzzle”.

“Need some help?”, you offered, though you knew he’d probably refuse. Ben was the kind of man who took pride in handling things himself, especially when it came to anything physical. Still, it didn’t hurt to tease him.

He shook his head, smirking despite himself. “I got it. Just need to figure out which genius decided to make a dresser that needs twenty screws for one drawer”.

You laughed, watching as he continued to fiddle with the piece, his frustration clear but softened by the fact that he was doing it for you—and for your baby. There was something endearing about watching him navigate something as mundane as assembling furniture, especially knowing how fiercely protective and capable he was in every other area of life.

You smiled softly as you walked over to him, kneeling down beside the half-assembled dresser. Resting your head on his broad shoulder, you felt the weight of your growing bump shift slightly as you sat. The sensation reminded you just how much had changed over the past months, and how much your life was about to change even more.

Ben’s arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you from anything that might trouble you. He glanced down at your small, slightly tired form and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You good?”, he asked quietly, his voice dropping to that gentle tone he reserved just for you.

You nodded against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, just a little tired”, you admitted. “I feel like my belly doubled in size overnight”.

Ben chuckled, his hand sliding down to rest over your bump. His palm was warm and steady, a grounding presence on your body. “You’re growing a fucking little person in there, what did you expect?”, he teased lightly, though there was an unmistakable tenderness in his voice. “Still, if you need to rest, don’t be shy about telling me. I can finish this on my own”.

You turned your face slightly, nuzzling against his neck. “I know, but I like being here with you”, you murmured. “Even if you’re cursing at furniture”.

He huffed a small laugh, squeezing your shoulder gently. “It’s cursed, not me”.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Ben let out a deep sigh and leaned back, his eyes glancing at the half-assembled dresser before giving you a wry smile. “Alright, I guess we should try to finish this thing before the baby shows up”, he joked, shaking his head at the still-challenging instructions in front of him.

You laughed softly, pushing yourself back up to your feet with a hand on your bump for support. "Yeah, that might help", you teased, giving him a playful look. "We wouldn’t want to be scrambling to put it together when we’re sleep-deprived and covered in spit-up".

Ben chuckled and nodded in agreement, then turned back to the dresser with renewed determination, muttering under his breath as he tightened a screw into place.

Meanwhile, you headed toward the bags filled with tiny socks, blankets, and baby essentials that you had picked up earlier. Kneeling down beside them, you began to sort through the items, separating the ones that needed to be washed before being tucked away into the dresser. The sight of the little outfits—some so small they barely looked like they could fit a doll—made your heart swell with anticipation. It was becoming so real now, with each new thing you prepared, and the thought of holding your baby in your arms made the fatigue and discomfort feel worthwhile.

As you gently folded a soft, pastel-colored onesie, Ben glanced over at you. He paused for a moment, watching you with a softened expression, clearly deep in thought. "I still can’t get over how tiny these clothes are", he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, this little thing is going to wear these?".

You smiled warmly, glancing up at him. "I know. It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it?".

He grunted in agreement, looking a little awestruck by the reality of it all. You could see the love and excitement in his eyes. He wasn’t just preparing for the baby in his typical meticulous way; he was mentally preparing himself to be a father—a role that, deep down, you knew he would take on with just as much passion and protectiveness as he had shown toward you.

As Ben finally finished tightening the last screw on the dresser, wiping his hands on his jeans, he he stood up and surveyed his work. Satisfied, he made his way over to you, kneeling down beside where you sat sorting through the baby stuff.

“Anything else you need help with?”, he asked, his voice gentler now, a contrast to the earlier frustration over the dresser. You smiled up at him, holding up a small onesie that immediately caught his eye.

It was a tiny white onesie, and right in the center was an eagle, bold and proud, its wings spread in flight. The sight made Ben’s face break into a wide grin. Seeing it on such a small piece of clothing, intended for his child, hit him in a way he hadn’t expected.

"Really?", Ben chuckled, reaching out to gently take the onesie from your hands, holding it up and inspecting it like it was some kind of treasure. "This… this is perfect", he said, his voice slightly rough with emotion. He traced his thumb over the eagle emblem, shaking his head in disbelief.

You grinned at his reaction, knowing how much that symbol meant to him. "I thought you’d like it", you teased lightly, watching the mixture of pride and tenderness play across his face.

Ben chuckled, then leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “We’re gonna be alright, you know that, right?”, he murmured, his voice low and full of conviction. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here. For you, and for the baby”.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I know, Ben. I know”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 🥰

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj @libby99hb @urgogodancer @urinternetmom @mochminnie @laaadygisbooornex3

[deadlydivergentgirl]

* Masterlist *

🌸 - Bingos :

Jacklesversebingo 2024 masterlist :

Coming soon...

[deadlydivergentgirl]

*I watch the show for the plot*

The Plot:

[deadlydivergentgirl]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 1✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language

Word Count: 4536

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Living with the Winchesters had been a strange yet oddly comforting experience. A few years ago, you were just a scared kid, barely surviving on your own after your mom passed away. The world was a cruel place, and you had learned that the hard way. But that night—when those men had cornered you, when you thought it was all over—Dean appeared out of nowhere like a guardian angel, though with a lot more anger and fire in his eyes.

You still remembered the way he looked after it was all over, standing over the bodies of those men, his breath heavy, his knuckles bruised. Dean Winchester was no stranger to killing, but that night had been different. These weren’t monsters. They were people. And yet, he had done what he had to do, without hesitation, to save you.

When he brought you to the bunker, you were too shocked to argue much. The bunker was unlike any place you’d ever known—safe, hidden from the world, and full of secrets you could never have imagined. Dean had said it was just until you got back on your feet, just until he was sure you were okay. But somehow, days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and now, years had passed.

You never talked about that night, not in detail. Sam had tried a couple of times, but you always shut him down. Dean never brought it up either. Maybe it was because you all knew there was nothing left to say. Or maybe it was because none of you wanted to face what it meant—that Dean had killed for you, that he had saved you in a way you couldn’t quite repay.

But despite the horrors you had faced before meeting the Winchesters, the bunker had become a home. It wasn’t like the life you had before, where survival meant scrapping by on whatever you could find, sleeping with one eye open. Here, you had a family. Dean and Sam—despite all their mess and chaos—had become the brothers you never had. They taught you everything you needed to know to protect yourself from the supernatural, but more than that, they showed you what it meant to have someone’s back, to care about someone even when the world was falling apart.

Now, your 18th birthday was coming up, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Part of you felt like you should leave, like you should go out and start your own life. But another part of you—the part that had grown accustomed to the safety of the bunker, the warmth of the Winchesters—didn’t want to let go.

Even after all this time, the question still lingered in the back of your mind: why had Dean been so insistent on bringing you back to the bunker that night? It wasn’t like him to make such impulsive decisions, especially when it came to something as personal as taking in a stranger. Dean was a protector, sure, but he didn’t make a habit of dragging people into his life, especially not into the heart of the Winchesters’ world.

But with you, something had been different. Something had driven him to take that extra step, to bring you home, and even now, none of you could quite figure out why.

Dean had always been guarded, keeping his thoughts and emotions close to his chest. But from the moment he had found you, something had shifted in him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The way he watched over you, more protective than usual, always making sure you were okay, even when you didn’t want to admit that you needed it. Sam noticed it too, the way Dean would check in on you late at night when he thought no one was watching, or how he would get that distant look in his eyes whenever the topic of your past came up.

It wasn’t that he pitied you—Dean Winchester wasn’t the type to pity anyone. It was something else, something deeper. And yet, no matter how many times you tried to puzzle it out, you never came any closer to understanding what had driven him to act that night.

Dean never took you with them on a hunt, no matter how much you argued or tried to convince him that you were ready. It was frustrating, especially after all the training they’d put you through, drilling you on everything from how to banish a ghost to the proper way to handle a silver blade. The supernatural world had terrified you at first—so much so that, in the beginning, you’d freaked out so badly that Sam and Dean had to tie you down until you could calm yourself. But you’d learned, adapted, and eventually, you stopped being scared. At least, you stopped showing it.

Still, no matter how much you insisted that you were ready, Dean refused to let you join them on hunts. He was firm about it, more so than usual, and it always left you feeling like you were still that scared kid they’d found all those years ago.

Today, the frustration had reached a boiling point. You’d spent the day in the bunker, alone, while they were out doing what they did best. By the time you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala pulling into the garage, you were practically seething.

As soon as the garage door creaked open, you saw them—Dean, covered in blood, and Sam, looking equally worn out but less battered. You stood in the doorway, arms crossed, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice but failing miserably as you grumbled, “How was it?”.

Dean didn’t even look at you as he brushed past, his expression dark, a sure sign that things hadn’t gone smoothly. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by something sharper, more on edge, and that only made your frustration spike.

“Still a bit fucked up since I had to stay behind. Again”, you added, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Dean froze in his tracks, his back stiffening. He slowly turned to face you, and for a moment, you saw something flash in his eyes—something between anger and fear, though you couldn’t quite pin it down. His voice was low, almost a growl, when he finally spoke. “You think I want you out there? You think I’m keeping you here just for fun?”.

Sam, sensing the tension, glanced between the two of you, clearly torn between stepping in and giving you space to work it out. But he stayed silent, letting Dean handle it.

Your irritation flared. “I’ve been here for years, Dean. I know what’s out there, and I’m not some helpless kid anymore. I can handle myself”.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping even lower. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not keeping you here because I don’t think you can handle yourself. I’m keeping you here because I don’t want you out there, getting hurt, or worse”.

You didn’t back down, meeting his glare head-on. “That’s not your decision to make, Dean. I’ve been through enough. I deserve to be out there, helping, not sitting around like some… liability”.

Dean’s face twisted into something almost pained, and for a second, you thought he might actually tell you what was really going on, why he was so adamant about keeping you out of the field. But then, just as quickly, the mask was back, and he shook his head, frustration radiating off him.

“Enough, Y/N”, he snapped, turning away from you again, as if the conversation was over. But you weren’t ready to let it drop.

“Yes, Dean, it’s enough!”, you shot back, stepping into his path. “You keep treating me like a kid, but I’m not. Why can’t you see that?”.

Dean’s eyes blazed as he glared at you, his face a mixture of anger something deeper, more desperate. His voice came out like a whip, sharp and cutting. “Go to your fucking room, Y/N!”.

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Dean had been angry before, sure, but this? This was different. The raw intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but instead of backing down, you found yourself standing your ground, defiance burning in your chest.

You raised your brows, trying to decide if you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of him ordering you around like a child, or scream at him for treating you like one. The corner of your mouth twitched upward despite the tension, and you could see the effect it had on him immediately. If Dean was pissed before, now he looked like he was barely holding himself together as he saw the hint of a smirk on your face. It was as if your defiance was the last thing holding him together, but also the thing threatening to tear him apart. His fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles still raw from whatever fight he and Sam had just returned from, and for a moment, you thought he might actually lose it.

But instead of yelling again, instead of pushing further, he just closed his eyes for a brief second, taking a deep breath as if trying to regain control. When he opened them again, his expression had shifted—still intense, but with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place. Pain? Fear? It was hard to tell.

The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension as Dean’s voice, low and dangerously calm, filled the space. “I fucking swear, Y/N, if you won’t go to your fucking room now, I’m gonna lose my shit”. The words were delivered with such a raw, barely contained fury that it made your breath hitch in your throat. You’d never seen him like this before, not even during the worst of hunts or the most heated arguments. Even Sam, who had seen Dean at his worst, looked shocked—his eyes widening in surprise and concern as he watched his brother teeter on the edge.

For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. Part of you wanted to push back, to keep fighting, but the other part—the part that had spent the last few years learning to read Dean, understanding the depths of his pain and the limits of his patience—knew that this wasn’t the time. The way his chest heaved, the tightness in his jaw, the wild look in his eyes… He was hanging by a thread, and if you pushed him any further, you weren’t sure what would happen.

Your smirk faded as the seriousness of the situation sank in. You weren’t just in the middle of an argument anymore; you were standing at the edge of something far more dangerous. The fight left your body all at once, replaced by a heavy, sinking feeling in your gut.

“Okay”, you said, the defiance in your voice replaced with something calmer, more measured. You held your hands up in a gesture of surrender, trying to show him that you understood, that you were backing down. “I’ll go”.

Dean didn’t say anything, just watched you with those burning eyes, his fists still clenched so tight you could see the muscles straining in his forearms. He looked like as if the smallest thing might set him off.

You walked away without another word, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly down the hallway as you left Dean and Sam alone in the heavy silence of the bunker. The tension you left behind was palpable, thick enough that it seemed to hang in the air, making it difficult to breathe.

Sam watched you go, his brow furrowed with concern, before turning his attention back to Dean. His brother was still standing in the same spot, fists clenched at his sides, his entire body taut as if he was ready to snap at any moment. Sam knew Dean well enough to recognize when he was dangerously close to the edge, and right now, he was teetering on it.

“Dean”, Sam started cautiously, his voice low and calm, trying to diffuse the tension. “You need to take a breath, man. You’re too worked up”.

Dean didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were still locked on the spot where you had just stood, his mind clearly racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. It wasn’t until Sam took a step closer, placing a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder, that Dean seemed to snap out of whatever dark place his mind had gone.

“Dean, talk to me”, Sam urged, his voice soft but insistent. “What’s really going on?”.

Dean’s eyes finally met Sam’s, and for a moment, it looked like he might shut down entirely. But then, as if the weight of everything he was holding inside became too much to bear, his shoulders slumped, and he let out a long, shaky breath.

“I’m losing it, Sam”, Dean admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, raw and stripped of all its usual bravado. “I’m losing it with her”.

Sam tightened his grip on Dean’s shoulder, his concern deepening. “What do you mean?".

Dean shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how dangerous this life is. I can’t… I can’t let her go out there, Sam. Not her”.

Sam sighed, understanding more clearly now what was eating away at his brother. “Dean, I get it. You’re scared. But Y/N’s not a kid anymore. She’s strong, and she’s been through a lot. You can’t keep her locked up here forever”.

But that was exactly the point, and it gnawed at Dean in a way he couldn’t fully comprehend—or maybe just didn’t want to. He didn’t want to accept the fact that you weren’t a kid anymore, that you were growing up right in front of him. Every day that brought you closer to your 18th birthday was like a ticking clock in the back of his mind, counting down to a moment he wasn’t ready to face.

No one knew how Dean really felt about you. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he understood it himself. From the moment he had saved you years ago, something had shifted inside him. He could still remember the look in your eyes that night, the way your fear had melted into a kind of cautious trust as you looked up at him, and how, in that instant, his heart had clenched in a way it hadn’t in years.

He’d buried those feelings deep, refusing to acknowledge them, convincing himself it was nothing more than a protective instinct. You were just a kid, after all, someone who needed looking after, someone who had no one else in the world. And Dean was good at protecting people—that was what he did, what he had always done. But as the years passed, that simple instinct grew into something more complicated, something that twisted inside him, especially as you grew older.

Dean knew he was teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t afford to explore. You were still so young, and he had no business feeling anything for you beyond what a protector should feel. But now, with your 18th birthday looming, the reality was hitting him harder than he ever anticipated. Soon, you’d be legally grown up, able to make your own choices, live your own life. And the thought of losing you to that, of not being able to keep you safe the way he had for the past years, was driving him crazy.

Sam’s words echoed in his mind—You can’t keep her locked up here forever. He knew Sam was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. Deep down, he was terrified. Not just of the dangers you’d face out there, but of what it would mean if he had to face the truth of his own feelings. Feelings that he had buried so deep that even he couldn’t fully acknowledge them, but that were starting to claw their way to the surface.

“Dean”, Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts, grounding him. “You have to let her grow up. She’s strong enough to handle this, and you know it. What are you so afraid of?”.

Dean swallowed hard, his throat tight. He could feel the storm of emotions churning inside him, but he couldn’t let them out. Not to Sam, not to anyone. He forced himself to meet Sam’s gaze, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an edge of desperation he couldn’t quite hide.

“I just… I can’t let anything happen to her, Sam”.

“I get that, Dean. But she’s got a right to make her own choices. You can’t keep treating her like she’s still that scared kid you found years ago”.

Dean didn’t want to think about it any longer. The more he let his mind wander down that dangerous path, the more tangled and twisted his thoughts became, until it felt like he was drowning in them. The knot in his chest tightened, and the walls of the bunker suddenly felt too close, too confining.

“I’m gonna take a shower”, he muttered, the words coming out gruff and clipped, as if speaking them was a chore. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as if each step required more effort than it should.

Sam watched him go, concern etched into every line of his face. He wanted to follow, to press Dean further, but he knew his brother well enough to recognize when he needed space. This was something Dean had to work through on his own, at least for now.

Dean’s mind was still racing as he reached the bathroom. He closed the door behind him with a little more force than necessary, the sound echoing in the small space. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at him was a mess—bloodstains on his shirt, smudges of dirt and grime on his face, and eyes that looked far more exhausted than they should.

He tore his gaze away from the mirror, not wanting to face the reality of what he saw there. Instead, he focused on the mundane task of stripping off his clothes, each movement deliberate and methodical, trying to find some semblance of control in the routine.

The hot water hit his skin like a scalding wave, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he welcomed the burning sensation, hoping it might somehow wash away the thoughts that were eating him alive. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on the physical sensation of the water, his mind kept drifting back to you—how you had looked at him with defiance and hurt in your eyes, how you had walked away without another word.

Dean leaned his head against the cool tiles of the shower, letting the water cascade over him, trying to drown out the thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He rubbed his face hard. The tension in his body only seemed to tighten with every second. Frustration bubbled up inside him as he blindly reached for the nearest bottle of shower gel, squeezing a generous amount into his hand. But the moment the sweet scent of vanilla hit his nose, his body reacted instantly, and not in the way he intended.

His breath hitched, and he cursed under his breath as blood rushed down to his crotch, his body betraying him in a way that made his skin crawl with shame. It was your scent—soft, warm, and undeniably you. The same scent that clung to the spaces you frequented in the bunker, that lingered faintly in the air whenever you passed by. He’d never let himself acknowledge how much that scent affected him before, how it seemed to wrap around his senses and pull him into thoughts he had no business having.

Dean’s hand tightened around the bottle, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to control the unwanted arousal that surged through him. He didn’t want this—didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to be the kind of man who thought about someone he was supposed to protect like this. But the scent was inescapable now, filling his lungs, invading his mind, and dragging him down a path he had tried so hard to avoid.

“Damn it!", he muttered, slamming the bottle back down on the ledge with more force than necessary, the sound echoing in the steamy space. His free hand pressed against the tile wall. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to think of anything else—anything but the way your scent clung to him now, making him think of how close you were, just a few rooms away.

But his mind wasn’t cooperating. Images of you kept flashing in his mind—your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you were teasing him or Sam, the way your body moved with a confidence that had grown over the past years. He could see the way you looked at him, the mix of frustration and something else in your eyes, something that made his heart stutter in his chest. And no matter how much he tried to push it away, those thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter, the guilt and shame mixing with the undeniable need that was pulsing through him. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were someone he cared about, someone he was supposed to look after, not someone he was supposed to feel like this about. But the more he tried to deny it, the stronger the pull became, the harder it was to ignore the way his body responded to you.

“Get it together”, he growled to himself, trying to will his body to calm down, to stop reacting to something that should have never been an issue in the first place. But it was no use. The scent of vanilla was too strong, too intertwined with the image of you, and the more he tried to fight it, the more he felt like he was losing control.

Desperation clawed at him as he turned the shower knob, the water suddenly turning ice-cold. The shock of it hit him like a punch to the gut, but he welcomed it, hoping the frigid temperature would snap him out of whatever trance he had fallen into. The cold water rushed over his skin, causing goosebumps to rise and his muscles to tense.

His hand still pressed against the wall, Dean leaned his forehead against the cold tiles, letting the water beat down on him as he tried to focus on anything but the ache that was building in his body. He needed to get control, needed to shove these feelings back into the box he had locked them. But it was harder than he had expected—so much harder than it should have been.

Minutes passed, the cold water numbing his skin. Eventually, his breathing slowed, and the intensity of the arousal began to fade, leaving behind a cold, hollow feeling that settled in his chest. He felt like he’d crossed a line, even if only in his mind, and the shame of it was almost unbearable.

Finally, when Dean couldn’t stand the cold water anymore, he shut it off and leaned back against the shower wall, his breath coming in slow, steadying gasps. The biting chill had done its job, numbing his skin and, to some extent, dulling the raw edge of his thoughts, though the shame lingered like a bad taste in his mouth.

For a moment, he just stood there, eyes closed, trying to push everything out of his mind. He knew he needed to get a grip on himself, to regain some semblance of control before he faced you or Sam again. The last thing he wanted was to let them see just how close to the edge he was, how badly he was fighting to keep everything in check.

With a deep breath, Dean grabbed his own bottle of shower gel and squeezed a small amount into his hand, the familiar scent of cedar and spice grounding him. He lathered it up quickly, scrubbing his skin with a kind of urgency, as if he could wash away not just the grime from the hunt, but the thoughts that had crept into his mind uninvited. He repeated the process with his shampoo, letting the suds rinse away the last remnants of the day, trying to focus on the simple, repetitive motions.

Dean finished rinsing off and turned the water off with a sense of finality. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then stood in the small, steamy bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror once more. His face was flushed from the hot and cold water, his hair damp and tousled, but it was the look in his eyes that bothered him the most.

He looked… haunted. Like a man fighting a battle he knew he couldn’t win. And maybe that was exactly what was happening. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, to push it down, the feelings he had for you were there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to break free.

But he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. You deserved better than that—better than him. You were young, strong, full of potential, and you had a life ahead of you that didn’t need to be weighed down by his baggage. By his feelings.

Dean clenched his jaw, forcing those thoughts back down, locking them away in that box inside his mind where he kept everything that threatened to break him. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it, couldn’t afford to let himself slip. He had a job to do, and that was protecting you, keeping you safe.

With that final, resolute thought, Dean wrapped the towel tighter around his waist and opened the bathroom door. His mind was still racing, but he forced himself to focus on the immediate task—getting dressed, getting his head on straight, and burying these unwanted feelings deep where they couldn’t hurt anyone.

———————————

A/N: After I already started a damn long story for Jensen and Soldier Boy, here's one for Dean.

Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity

[deadlydivergentgirl]

i need him like i need air

[deadlydivergentgirl]

She's so real. Can't wait to see him!!! 😍

[deadlydivergentgirl]

Lost on You - Part 8

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Here we go. Diving into Nicaragua, and beyond…

Song Inspo: “Who’s Crying Now” by Journey

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Violence, implied torture, heavy angst (and a twist ending).

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Part 8: For Whom the Bell Tolls

March 1984

When you got into Payback, you didn’t sign up to be part of a war. You knew you weren’t a soldier, and frankly, the rest of you had no business being here either. This was a CIA base, being run by a no-nonsense officer, Grace Mallory. You had no intention of getting in her way.

Nicaragua was hot and surrounded by jungle, not exactly conducive to a leather suit. You kept to the shade by yourself and watched Swatto, Ben, and Gunpowder makes fools of themselves after Grace tore them a new one. You respected anyone who could go toe-to-toe with Ben without even flinching, especially as a non-supe.

Then again, he had poured on his usual “charm.”

“You know, with a figure like yours, you are wasted down here,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. Grace didn't even give him the time of day. Stan chimed in, presumably to explain Vought’s apparent “partnership” with the U.S. military for this mission. Ben walked away from her, barely glancing in your direction along the way.

That suited you just fine. Things had been frosty between you two for the past month, but as long as you stayed out of his way, he didn’t butt into yours.

Days later, you wanted nothing more than to go home. Sleeping in a tent was not your bag, and especially not using the restroom outdoors. Would it be considered desertion if you booked a flight home right now?

You escaped your tent with a huff, swatting mosquitos as you went. You’d tried to take an afternoon nap, but who could sleep in this heat?

“Not exactly a luxury suite, is it?” Black Noir said. You jolted, realizing he was standing just a few feet away without his mask on. It was refreshing to see his face, but you were still a bit sour toward him.

“Oh, you’re talking to me now?” you said dryly. You began walking toward the mess tent. Noir joined you.

“Well, it looks like you’re done playing your little game,” he said, raising his brows meaningfully at Soldier Boy. He seemed to be trying to chat up Mallory again.

Good fucking luck there, you thought. She already looked bored.

You turned to Noir with a flat look.

“We’re all playing a game, Irving. Just at different levels,” you said. “For example, what were you talking to Stan about?”

You’d seen them a couple of hours ago, hidden behind a fortified stone wall. Noir stopped walking. You were curious enough to follow suit.

“Something that could change everything for all of us,” he said. “You included.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’re you—”

Shots rang out in the clearing. Noir covered you when a grenade blasted the ground just a few feet away from you.

"You okay?" he asked in concern. You nodded shakily. He steadied you with a reassuring hold on your arms.

“Come on!” he said.

“What’s happening?” you exclaimed over the noise. You were terrified, and you definitely weren’t trained for this.

You let Noir lead you through the camp. When men in faded green uniforms came at you with guns, he took most of them out. You managed to duck under a man’s gun and touch his face, compelling him to sleep.

“There you are!” said Countess. She had the TNT Twins and Mindstorm in tow. For once, you were relieved to see them.

Finally you made it into a clearing where Ben was fighting with his shield at the ready. He punched out another enemy soldier who fell to the ground. He turned to see you, and then the others in your team beginning to surround him. You frowned in confusion and looked at Noir.

“What’re you doing?” you asked in worry. He glanced at you, but didn’t answer.

“What the fuck is this?!” Ben said angrily.

“Something we should’ve done a long time ago, you piece of shit,” Noir said, his tone icy and determined.

The TNT Twins attacked first. It managed to knock Ben to the ground. You were frozen in shock when Countess and Mindstorm joined in, along with Noir.

“Stop!” you said, but no one heard you. What the fuck is happening?!

They had Ben going for a minute, as their triple teaming managed to keep him on the ground…just not for long. With a grunt, he shoved them all away with a show of strength.

“Sirena!” Noir finally called to you, his gaze imploring you to help them. 

“No, stop!” you shouted back. You couldn’t watch this fight happen again. Because this time, Ben would kill him. He’d kill all of them.

You headed for Ben and Noir, but a gloved hand stopped you. It grabbed your wrist and turned you around, right into Countess’s waiting fist. You cried out and stumbled, but you found purchase on one of the stone walls. Before you could recover, she grabbed your shoulders and kneed you hard in the stomach.

Shit… You tasted blood when you went down, heaving for breath. She packed one hell of a punch in those little gloved fists.

“Been waiting for this, bitch,” she hissed from above you.

The second she got close enough, you grabbed her by her long hair and punched her as hard as you could in that fake-ass nose. Then you kicked out with both feet into her stomach. She doubled over and fell back on her ass.

You managed to roll and stumble onto your feet. You glanced over quick and saw that Ben was beating Noir within an inch of his life.

“Ben!” you shouted, wanting to stop him, but that was when Mindstorm stepped in front of you. His eyes met yours, and it became a battle of wills as he tried to shove you deep into the darkness of your inner world.

You could play mind games too though. You fought his hold, with every scrap of your consciousness, and you even managed to take a few steps forward. If you touched him, it would be over. As a man, he wouldn’t be able to withstand your own powers.

And your plan might’ve worked, if Countess hadn’t walloped you hard from behind.

When you woke, the bare room was bright with florescent lighting and cold beyond belief. You shuddered. You were no longer wearing your supe suit. Instead, you’d been dressed in some kind of gray hospital gown and a pair of woolly socks, stripped of even your boots. At least you still had underwear.

You uncurled yourself from the thin cot you were laying on. The room held little more than a prison cot, a toilet, and a sink. You let out a shaky breath.

Where the hell…

You got up slowly, mindful of your aches and pains throughout your body. The back of your head was throbbing too, courtesy of Countess, you slowly remembered.

That fucking bitch.

There was a door with a small glass windowpane. You tried to twist the handle, but of course it wouldn’t budge. You peered out of the window and saw a long hallway. There was a door just like yours on the opposite side with a small window.

“H-Hey!” you shouted. “Is anyone there? Hello?!”

A moment later, you heard Ben say your name, calling out to you. He sounded angry, but you were close enough to sense his relief at hearing your voice. You were relieved to hear him too, at least.

“Ben!” you said, as tears sparked in your eyes. “Where the hell are we?”

“The Russians got us,” he said, though it was heavily muffled through his door and yours.

Oh shit…

“After those cocksuckers fucking betrayed me!” he shouted. You heard a banging sound, like his fist meeting the wall.

“Did you know?” he asked in anger.

“What?” you said incredulously.

“Did you fucking know what they were planning?”

You were shocked, both at his audacity, and at the way he really thought you could do that to him. To anyone.

“How can you ask me that,” you said tremulously, “when I’m the only one who tried to fucking help you?”

It finally hit you then, where you were and why this was happening. You laughed without humor, wiping manic tears from your cheeks in vain.

“Well, look where that got me,” you said. You shook your head. “God, I wish I’d never met you.”

You almost wished you could see his face. He would probably try to be stoic, but even through the walls, you sensed the discordant impact of your words. It affected him, more than he’d probably ever show.  

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said sharply.

“Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

That fell heavily between you. You didn’t regret it. It was high time this man knew the truth, about everything.

No more games.

“Oh, really. You included, huh?” Ben said. “I didn’t do shit to you.”

You gaped. “You shoved me to ground! I had bruises for days. Or did you conveniently forget that part?”

“You got in the fucking way!” he retorted. But then, he simmered down slightly. “Besides, you know you weren’t the one I was aiming for.”

And that just reminded you of Black Noir, with no small measure of guilt, and just how badly Ben had beaten him before you two were captured. You didn’t doubt that Ben had killed him.

“But you still did it, and you couldn’t even look me in the eye and apologize, like a man,” you said. “Instead, you fucked a pack of whores.”

You shook your head and tried to calm your breathing. You wiped under your eyes.

“But I guess I did bring it on myself. I knew what you were the second I met you,” you said coldly. “In fact, the only thing I really wanted from you was what you could do for my career.”

That blow landed as well. You felt his shock, deep inside.

“Is that so?” he said, less angry then. More resigned. “It was all an act, huh?”

New tears burned in your eyes. They slid down your cheeks, one by one.

“Yeah, it was,” you said. “I fucking hope I never have to see your face again.”

With a shaky breath, you turned your back to the door and leaned against it. You ignored the painful lance in your heart that threatened to overtake you, along with your panic.

For a while, there was silence. It gave you a reprieve, but it also forced you to be alone with the tumultuous thoughts circling in your head.

Suddenly, the door opened. You backed up all the way to the far wall. In stepped a man in a gray lab coat, as well as two armed guards. One of them was holding a straitjacket.

“Good morning,” said the lab coat. His English was heavily accented. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Who are you?” You tried to sound firm and unshaken, but there was no mistaking your fear as your eyes darted from man to man.

“Eisenstein Sergei. I am a geneticist, by trade,” he said. He gestured at you with a smile that made your skin crawl. “You, beautiful one. You will be part of evolution.”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” you said, even as your voice trembled.

Eisenstein gestured at the guards, who drew near you. The second you opened your mouth to sing, to scramble their minds, one of them produced an extendable stick with an electric prod on the end. He tased you until you passed out onto the floor.

As you soon discovered, Dr. Sergei Eisenstein was fascinated by supes. He wanted to figure out how they ticked, on a molecular level. So he and his team had made a deal with Vought to acquire Soldier Boy for experimentation. You were an added bonus.

For months, the doctor and his team poked and prodded, cut and burned you, testing the limitations of your advanced healing and pushing your body often far beyond its capabilities.

But they were careful. The straitjacket ensured you couldn’t easily compel any man who drew near to work on you. They all wore gloves, so they didn’t touch your skin. In some ways, their wariness was to your benefit. You were always gagged when they worked on you though, so you couldn’t sing. Eisenstein also once threatened to paralyze your vocal cords if you tried. You were too afraid to tempt him.

As rough as you had it, you were sure it was only scratching the surface of what they did to Ben.

The man was stronger, more durable. The doctor had more leeway to play with him, knowing his toy wouldn’t break.

They now kept him on the other end of the compound, since he’d broken through his first containment unit. They had gassed him with something that made him drop like a stone, putting him to sleep. You weren’t sure what was powerful enough to do it, but you didn’t want to find out.

The first time you heard him screaming, it brought tears stinging in your eyes. Your lips had trembled, and you’d rocked yourself in your cot. You couldn’t help him, let alone yourself. You were surprised to realize that you wanted to help him, even after everything he did to you—after everything you’d seen him do.

It slowly made you realize the truth in your own heart; things you hadn’t wanted to take out and examine, like muddy glass after a storm. Now, with the debris washed away, you could see what you had become, and what all your work, your scraping, your lies and manipulations had gotten you.

Nothing.

It also made you realize that you weren’t as good of a liar as you thought you were. At least, not to yourself. Not when you remembered the quiet moments between you and Ben; the times you wordlessly craved each other’s company, and you laid tucked against his side on the couch with a book while he watched a football game. Or late at night, the times when you gave into sharing a bed with him, and he stared up at the ceiling with a blunt in hand, the two of you lying naked and talking about everything and nothing until you feel asleep.  

Yes, you remembered blood and violence, callousness and cruelty toward Noir and the rest of the team. You knew that was who Soldier Boy was. That was Ben.

It was just hard to reconcile that monster with the man you’d come to know. The man who actually tried to comfort you, even though you hadn’t wanted to be comforted after that accident with a Crimson Countess fan. The man who saved you after you were beaten by a thug, and nearly worse. The man who could be funny, and charming, with hints of gentleness and affection in between.

You supposed you would never know what part of him was real.

But most of all, you remembered the things you’d said to him. You surprised yourself by feeling pinprick needles of guilt up and down your spine.

“I hope I never have to see your face again.”

 You had a feeling that you’d get your wish.

It was six months in before Eisenstein experimented with the first serum. You vomited blood.

It took his team three more years to revise. 

You started to hear voices in your head, snippets of thought instead of just sensing energies. You lied to the scientists, keeping the knowledge to yourself. They had no way to know, so why give them more ammunition against you?

The thoughts you heard were always male, whoever was in close proximity. Your powers seemed to translate them into English, but you almost preferred it to be gibberish. Mostly the thoughts were bland, disgusting, or cold and frightening in their scientific detachment, and even their entertainment…mostly when they worked on Ben. 

It made you sick. You wished you could reach out to him, if just for someone familiar to talk to. You hadn’t learned how to do that just yet. You didn’t even know if you could. You were still figuring out how to just tune it all out when you were sick of the chatter.

Regardless, they kept him too far away, so you rarely heard his thoughts. When you did, they were mostly angry and murderous. You couldn’t blame him. 

Sometimes, just being able to feel his presence, hearing the scraps of his thoughts was enough.

You were left entirely alone with your own.

April 3, 1994

You read the date on the magazine they’d brought for you with bland porridge for breakfast. The publication was in Russian, but you’d begun to pick up on certain words they said, and on the structure of numbers you saw them scribble in their notes. 

Ten years. You really couldn’t fathom it. It didn’t feel real…

Well, actually, it did today. You were almost done with the porridge when the doctor and three guards came in, one with your usual straitjacket.

“Finished then?” Eisenstein asked, nodding at your near empty bowl. “Good. Get her up.”

The command was in Russian, but by now you understood it. You still struggled. You always did. It was no use though. Soon they had you fitted in the jacket and a gag tight around your mouth, with just a couple of cattle prod stings to your side.

They dragged you down the hall farther than usual. You were confused when they passed the usual lab they so often took you to. Instead, Eisenstein opened a metal door.

Inside the room was Ben, strapped to a metal slab against the wall. He was bound in every way, and fully naked. He also had a long, unkempt beard, but you’d recognize that face even in your sleep. Your eyes widened when you met his, your breath caught in your throat. His face slackened in surprise as well.

You hadn’t seen him since before the beginning of the nightmare.

He’d barely aged at all.

The spell of it broke when you were slammed down onto a cold, shiny table. It felt hard as titanium, and you cried out at the impact.

You managed to raise your head. “Ben!”

It was muffled through the gag, but you knew he understood you. His brows furrowed. He looked up at Eisenstein in a glare.

“What the fuck is this?”

The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

“You have impenetrable skin, yes? Hard, like a diamond,” he said to Ben. “Even inside your holes, it is…perhaps more sensitive, but still strong enough to stop further experimentation.”

Ben’s lip curled with a sneer.

“But there must be a way to get inside you,” Eisenstein said. He grabbed the back of your neck tightly, making you whimper. He held up the syringe. “Tell me now, or I will give her the serum we had prepared for you. There is good chance it may…let’s say, liquify her insides, but we will have to see. Won’t we?”

He gestured at one of the guards, who tore open the back of your gray gown to expose your back and shoulders. You screamed around the gag and struggled, even with the men holding you down. You fought Eisenstein’s grip to look up at Ben. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard and angry.

You had tears in your eyes; they already began to slip down your cheeks. You implored him wordlessly. Ben stared back at you through furrowed brows.

Getting nothing but silence, Eisenstein sighed through his nose, and he turned to you with the syringe.

“Hold her steady.”

You struggled and thrashed in vain.

“Wait!” Ben said, through clenched teeth.

Everyone in the room paused.

Ben lifted his gaze from you and directed it at the doctor.

“My eye,” he said lowly. “Inject it in the corner of my eye.”

Eisenstein’s weathered face broke into a smile. “Ah, clever. Thank you, Soldier Boy.”

Then he pressed the needle into your shoulder, emptying its contents into your bloodstream. You uttered a pained sound at the needle going in. Again, you looked up at Ben in panic.

He tensed in an incredulous anger. “What—”

“Do not worry. It’s just a sedative,” Eisenstein shrugged.

Within seconds, you breathed out a whimper as your eyes closed on you. You went limp. The guards peeled you off the table and dragged you out of the room. It left the doctor with his favorite patient.

Ben wanted to rip the man’s arm from his socket and beat him to death with it. And that was just the latest fantasy on how he’d take the good doctor apart.

“What’ve you been doing to her?” Ben asked, in a tone that demanded. It was the first time he had spoken of you, the first time he had the courage to ask the question that so often plagued his mind.

Eisenstein sighed. “She is not as strong or durable as you, but! She has been able to withstand a good many experiments that have borne fruit.”

Ben’s glare darkened. “You’re a sick fucking bastard.”

“I am a visionary,” the doctor countered. “Can you imagine what your mutations could unlock for science? In biomedicine? Her healing abilities, though limited, could provide the cure to any number of diseases and ailments. Your longevity of life could do the same… Or if not, you will make for Russia’s greatest weapon.”

He stepped back and ushered in his assistants. One of them came with the true serum. Its contents had a light red hue. It looked like poison. Ben struggled in his constraints, grunting and resisting the hand that reached for his face.

“If you do not stay still, we will go to her next,” Eisenstein warned.

Ben panted through his nose. His hardened gaze flicked between the doctor, and the needle coming for his eye.

You heard Ben screaming before you could even open your eyes. You felt it in your chest. In your spirit.

He saved me, you realized, as tears once again stung behind your eyelids.

You also tasted cotton in your mouth. You realized it was because they had thrown you face-first onto your cot. You managed to turn your head so you at least could breathe, but you couldn’t move any of your limbs. Your enhanced healing was the only reason why you were even awake.

Ben…

He broke free.

The pain was too much. Adrenaline was surging through him, and he was able to grab one of the assistants and crush his throat. His furious gaze was set on Eisenstein next, but the fucker ducked out of the room quick.

Ben padded forward on slightly unsteady feet, ripping away the rest of his restraints from the cold metal. He stalked toward the door. Before he could reach it, a hissing plume of Novichok gas flooded the entire cell. 

His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell to the ground. All the while, the serum was working inside him, bubbling and brewing red hot in his chest.

You were lying unmoving in your cot when Eisenstein came in to check on you.

“How is the little bird, doing?” he asked in his native tongue.

He ventured over to you carefully. In one of his hands was a cattle prod, just in case.

“They were careless,” he remarked. He set down the cattle prod to grasp your shoulders, and he rearranged you until you were lying on your back. You were still unresponsive, when the doctor knew for a fact that you should be awake by now. He had your reaction times to certain chemicals perfected to the minute.

He frowned and reached out to hold a gloved finger to your neck, measuring your pulse.

That was when you opened your eyes.

You raised up and headbutted him as hard as you could. Eisenstein cried out and fell to the ground. You followed him there and straddled him. Your hands were still bound by the straitjacket, so you had no choice.

You bent down and distracted him with a disdainful kiss to his lips.

When you next open your eyes, they were glowing violet.

You took control of his mind.

AN: 😬😬😬

Also, get ready for a whopper of a chapter in Part 9. (My favorite one of the series!)

Next Time:

Free me, you compelled Eisenstein’s mind.

He obeyed you with a vacant look in his eyes. He unhooked your straitjacket and opened the door. After you grabbed up his cattle prod, you still didn’t release your psychic hold. You ordered him forward, and for the first time you walked freely out of your cell without restraint.

Take me to Soldier Boy.

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[deadlydivergentgirl]

✨His true fate - Part 21/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, fluff

Word Count: 4615

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Instead of responding with words, Jensen leaned in, capturing your lips in a deeper kiss. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

As you kissed, you felt tiny water droplets from his damp hair falling onto your face, making you giggle. Jensen pulled back slightly. “What’s so funny?”, he teased, his eyes twinkling with affection.

“You’re dripping water all over me”, you laughed, wiping a few stray droplets from your forehead.

“Oh, am I?”, he said, leaning in and shaking his head slightly, causing more droplets to rain down on you. His playful gesture only made you laugh harder.

“Jensen, stop!”, you squealed, trying to shield yourself with your hands. But he just grinned wider, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“All right, all right”, he said, finally relenting. “I guess I should finish drying off”.

You nodded, still giggling. “Probably a good idea”.

As Jensen grabbed a towel to dry his hair, you took a moment to appreciate the lightness of the moment. It was a stark contrast to the intensity of your earlier conversation, and it felt like a small but significant step forward in your relationship.

Once he was properly dried, Jensen started to get dressed. You watched him as he closed his belt and grabbed a simple white shirt. He had been hitting the gym more often lately to stay in shape for his role as Soldier Boy, and it had paid off well. His muscles were more defined, and his movements carried an easy strength. You bit your lip, admiring the transformation as you sat on the bed.

Jensen noticed your gaze and the slight blush on your cheeks, and a playful smirk appeared on his face. “Enjoying the view?”, he teased, slowly buttoning his shirt but leaving the top few buttons undone.

You felt the blush deepen but met his eyes with a smile. “Maybe”, you replied. “You’ve definitely been putting in the work”.

“Well, it’s nice to know my efforts aren’t going unnoticed”, he said, stepping toward you. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he closed the distance between you, stopping just in front of you.

You looked up at him, your heart racing slightly at the proximity. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s been working hard”, you teased back, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter in your chest.

Jensen’s smile widened as he leaned down, his hands resting on either side of you on the bed, effectively trapping you in place. “Oh, I’ve noticed”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection. “Believe me, I’ve noticed”.

You felt a playful spark in your eyes as you mumbled, “Didn’t seem like you spent that much attention earlier”. Your voice was soft, teasing, referring to how quickly things had escalated before. Normally, Jensen took his time, worshipping your body with a careful, loving touch.

Jensen’s eyes twinkled as he leaned even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Oh, so you’re saying I’ve been neglecting my duties?”, he teased, his voice a seductive whisper.

A shiver of excitement ran through you, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe just a little”, you replied, your voice light but your meaning clear.

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and amusement. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you later”, he said, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing promise. “But for now, we have a date with Jared”.

You whined softly, not ready to let him go just yet. Pulling him closer, you tugged him down so he landed on top of you, pressing your lips back to his in a passionate kiss. Jensen’s initial surprise melted into a deep, hungry response as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your sides, holding you firmly yet tenderly.

For a moment, everything else faded away, and you were lost in the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the connection you shared.

Jensen pulled back slightly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You’re making it very hard to leave this room”, he murmured against your lips, a playful glint in his eyes.

You smiled up at him, your fingers trailing along his jawline. “Maybe that’s the point”, you whispered back.

Boldly, your hand moved between your bodies, cupping him through his jeans. He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening in surprise and pleasure. You could feel him harden under your touch, and his reaction sent a thrill through you.

“Teasing me now, are you?”, he asked, his voice husky with desire. He bit his lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Just a little”, you replied, your tone innocent but your actions anything but. You gave him a gentle squeeze, feeling the heat and firmness beneath the fabric.

Jensen groaned softly, his hips instinctively pressing against your hand. “You’re going to be the death of me”, he said, his voice strained with both amusement and arousal.

You bit your lip, giving him a tighter squeeze. “It’s not the first time you’ve said that”, you teased. His reaction to your touch sent a thrill through you, and you could feel the heat building between you.

Jensen’s eyes darkened further and he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “And it won’t be the last”, he murmured.

You grinned, enjoying the power you had over him in that moment. “Well, we can’t have you dying on me just yet”, you said, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path along his length.

Jensen’s breath hitched, and he gripped your waist tighter, his control slipping. “You’re impossible”, he managed, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his ear. “But you love it”, you whispered, giving him another squeeze.

He groaned again, his resolve crumbling. “We really need to go”, he said, though he made no move to leave.

“Do we?”, you challenged, your hand continuing its slow, teasing movements.

Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to regain control. When he opened them again, his gaze was intense. “Yes, we do. But later, you’re mine”, he said.

“I’ll hold you to that”, you replied, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “You make it very hard to be a gentleman”, he said with a wry smile.

You mumbled playfully, “You absolutely weren’t a gentleman earlier”. Pecking his lips quickly, you rolled away underneath his arms and stood up, smoothing down your soft dress with a satisfied grin.

Jensen chuckled, watching you with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Touché”, he said, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair, attempting to regain his composure.

You turned to face him, feeling the lightness of the moment. Just then, there was a knock on the door, followed by Jared’s impatient voice. “What’s taking you so long in there?”.

Jensen rolled his eyes and grimaced at the discomfort, discreetly adjusting his boner. “Great timing, as always”, he muttered, trying to find a more comfortable position.

You stifled a laugh, walking over to the door and opening it with a playful smile. “Sorry, Jared. We’re ready now”.

Jared stood there with his arms crossed, an amused yet impatient look on his face. “I swear, you two are worse than teenagers. Come on, I’m starving”.

You stepped aside to let him in, and he glanced at Jensen, who was still trying to compose himself. “You good there, man?”, Jared asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Jensen shot him a look that was both annoyed and amused. “Just peachy”, he replied, finally managing to adjust himself to a more comfortable state.

Jared laughed and shook his head. “Alright, let’s go before you two get distracted again”.

With that, you all headed out of the hotel room and down to the lobby. The cool evening air outside was a welcome relief, and the city’s energy was invigorating. Jared seemed ready to dive into a conversation, his usual exuberance leading the way.

Just as Jared was about to ask how things were going, he caught sight of Jensen’s face. “Again, Jensen?”, Jared asked, raising an eyebrow in a mix of concern and frustration.

Jensen groaned, clearly annoyed. “Yeah, Jared, again”, he replied, rolling his eyes. He was not in the mood to delve into the details right now.

You muttered under your breath, “Apparently, just I don’t get to know”, feeling a bit left out and frustrated with the secrecy.

Jensen shot you a disapproving look, his jaw tightening. “Not now”, he said quietly, but firmly.

Jared, sensing the tension, decided to defuse the situation. “Alright, alright, let’s not get into it here. We’re supposed to be having a good time. Let’s just focus on getting some food”.

You nodded, trying to let go of the frustration. The last thing you wanted was to ruin the evening. As you continued walking, Jared managed to steer the conversation back to lighter topics, sharing amusing anecdotes and keeping the mood as light as possible.

At the restaurant, you found a cozy table in a quiet corner. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, and the food smelled delicious. As you settled in, the initial tension began to ease, replaced by the comforting hum of conversation and laughter.

Jared’s efforts to keep things light paid off. Gradually, you and Jensen relaxed, enjoying the meal and each other’s company. The conversation flowed easily, and soon you were all laughing and joking as if nothing had happened.

It felt like the earlier frustration had been forgotten, replaced by the camaraderie you all shared.

After a while, Jared leaned back in his chair and glanced at Jensen. “Hey, Misha texted me earlier. He wants to grab a drink later. You in?”.

You felt a pang of discomfort at the mention of Misha. You remembered all too well the incident at the convention in Austin, where Misha had hit on you, unaware of your relationship with Jensen. Neither Jared nor Jensen had told him who you really were, and it had created an awkward situation. One that meant, with Jensen gone for drinks, you would be alone in the hotel room tonight.

Jensen hesitated, glancing at you. He could sense your unease, and it was clear he was torn. “I don’t know, Jared”, he said slowly. “Maybe we should just call it a night”.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Come on, man. It’ll be fun. We haven’t hung out like this in a while”.

You interjected gently, trying to defuse the situation. “It’s okay, Jensen. You should go. I’ll be fine here”.

Jensen shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I don’t want to leave you alone. We wanted to spend time together”.

You smiled at him, trying to reassure him. “It’s just one evening, Jensen. I can go check out the city”.

Instead of calming him down, Jensen’s expression grew more serious. “No way you’re going out there on your own. Seattle isn’t exactly known for being the safest place, especially at night”.

You appreciated his concern but didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on spending time with his friends. “I’ll be careful. I won’t go far, maybe just explore some nearby shops or grab a coffee. I’ll be fine”.

Jensen’s jaw tightened, and he looked at you with a mix of worry and determination. “I don’t like the idea of you being out there alone. Please, just stay here. We can both skip the drinks and have a quiet night in”.

You sighed, grumbling under your breath, “You’re so stubborn”.

Jensen shot back, a playful glint in his eye, “Right back atcha”.

Despite the frustration, neither of you could suppress a grin. It was clear that you both cared deeply for each other’s well-being, even if it meant butting heads occasionally.

Jared, sensing the playful tension, chimed in with a chuckle. “Well, it seems like you two have it all figured out“.

The three of you shared a laugh, the atmosphere growing lighter. After finishing your meal, Jensen paid for dinner, and the three of you started walking back to the hotel. The cool evening air was refreshing as you strolled along, chatting and enjoying each other’s company.

Just as you were nearing the hotel entrance, Misha came around the corner, not looking where he was going, and stumbled right into Jensen.

“Whoa, easy there!”, Jensen said, catching Misha by the shoulders to steady him.

Misha blinked in surprise, then broke into a wide grin. “Jensen! Jared! Hi! I just checked in. You’re not staying at the usual?”. He glanced over and saw you, recognition flickering in his eyes before a hint of confusion set in.

You could see the wheels turning in Misha’s mind as he remembered the Austin Con. His expression shifted from surprise to complete bewilderment, clearly lost as he tried to piece together what was happening between the three of you.

Jensen, sensing the awkwardness, pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Misha, it’s a long story”.

Misha looked between you, Jensen, and Jared, his confusion deepening. “Wait, so… you guys know each other…?”. He pointed between the three of you, trying to make sense of the situation. Jensen glanced around, noticing a few people starting to pay more attention to the group of actors standing together. The last thing they needed was to draw a crowd.

“Yeah, Misha, we know each other”, Jensen said quickly, his tone indicating that he wanted to move the conversation indoors. “Let’s head inside and talk. We don’t need to make a scene out here”.

Misha nodded, still looking a bit bewildered but willing to follow Jensen’s lead. The four of you made your way into the hotel lobby and quickly headed towards the elevators. Once inside the elevator, the awkwardness was palpable, but at least you were out of the public eye.

Jensen opened the door to his and your hotel room, letting everyone step inside. The atmosphere was still charged with confusion and anticipation. Once the door closed behind you, Misha raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Care to share?”, he asked, looking pointedly at Jensen.

You stood awkwardly in the room, not sure where to position yourself in this unfolding conversation. Sensing your discomfort, Jared laid a reassuring hand on your back. “Come on”, he said gently, “I’ll show you the rooftop bar. They’re gonna need some time”.

You nodded, grateful for the escape. As you and Jared made your way out of the room, you could hear Jensen start to explain the situation to Misha.

Jared led you to the rooftop bar, the cool night air and the view of the city lights providing a welcome distraction. “Sorry about all the awkwardness”, Jared said as you found a quiet corner to sit. “We should have handled this better”.

You smiled at him, appreciating his understanding. “It’s okay, Jared. Things like this happen. I just hope Misha understands”.

Jared nodded, ordering a couple of drinks for the two of you. “He will. Misha’s a good guy. It’s just a lot to take in all at once”.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the view.

Back in the hotel room, Misha sat down, still looking slightly bewildered. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and asked, “So, who is she?”.

Jensen hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he started to explain. “We met a few months ago at a liquor store in Austin. Jared and I were picking up some liquor for Jared’s birthday, and she was there. We got to talking, and I just couldn’t get her out of my head. One thing led to another and… it just clicked”.

Misha listened, trying to make sense of it all. “So, it’s been a few months, and you’ve kept it quiet all this time?”.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, it’s been kind of crazy with everything going on, but it felt right. We wanted to keep it just for us for a while, you know?”.

Misha’s expression softened a bit, but there was still a hint of confusion. “What about Danneel?”.

Jensen took a deep breath, clearly anticipating this question.

“Danneel and I… we’ve had an understanding for years now. We’ve been together for the public, for the sake of appearances, but we’ve both been seeing other people for quite some time. It’s been complicated, but it’s what worked for us”.

Misha listened intently, his confusion giving way to understanding. “So, it’s been more of a business arrangement than a real relationship?”.

Jensen nodded. “Exactly. It’s not something we talk about openly… obviously. But we both agreed it was for the best. We didn’t want to deal with the media frenzy or the impact on our families. But now… I’m planning to end things for good”.

Misha leaned back, processing the information. “Wow, that’s a lot to take in. I had no idea”.

Jensen rubbed the back of his neck once more, the tension evident in his body as he processed everything that had been said. “Yeah, I know”, he mumbled, the weight of the situation lingering in the air between them.

“I always liked Danneel, you know”, he admitted, glancing sideways at Jensen as though testing the waters.

Jensen raised a brow at that, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, you’re probably the only one”.

Misha blinked at the comment, caught off guard for a moment, before a small smile crept across his face. It was an open secret among their circle that Danneel wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with. The only one who seemed to have found common ground with her, outside of Jensen, was Misha.

“Well, somebody had to”, Misha quipped, his tone lightening the mood slightly. There was no malice in his words.

Jensen chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess so”.

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, the kind that comes from years of friendship and shared experiences. Misha, always the peacemaker, leaned forward again, his voice softer now.

“You’ve got to do what’s right for you, man. And if this is what you want—really want—then it’s the right move. You deserve to be happy”.

Jensen sighed, a weight visibly lifting off his shoulders after hearing Misha’s words. “Thanks, man”, he said sincerely. But then he added, leaning in slightly with a knowing look, “Just, you know… you’ve got to keep this on the down low. No one’s supposed to know what’s really going on yet”.

Misha raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Me? Gossip? Never”, he joked, but there was a twinkle in his eye that told Jensen he knew exactly what Jensen was getting at. Misha had always been known for spinning a good story.

“Seriously, though”, Jensen continued, the lightness still there but a hint of urgency in his tone. “I can’t have this getting out. We’re still figuring out the timing of everything. The last thing we need is the media picking it up before Danneel and I can handle it our way”.

Misha nodded solemnly, the humor falling away as he recognized the gravity of the situation. “I get it, Jensen. My lips are sealed”. He mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, earning a small chuckle from Jensen.

“Thanks”, Jensen said again, more earnestly this time. “I know it’s a lot to ask”.

Misha waved it off with a smile. “Hey, you’ve always had my back. Now I’ve got yours. We’re good”.

Jensen let himself sink into a chair, feeling the tension ease slightly after the conversation. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the weight of everything. It had been a lot to get off his chest, and now that it was out there, he felt like he could breathe a little easier.

Misha noticed the shift and grinned slyly at Jensen. “You know, Jensen”, he began, his tone teasing, “she’s pretty… well, pretty young, huh?”.

Jensen shot him a look, one that was half-amused and half-exasperated. “Really, Misha? You’re going there?”.

“Hey, I’m just saying, Ackles”, he said. “You’re not exactly getting any younger, and here you are with someone who probably still gets carded at the bar”.

Jensen groaned, rolling his eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “She’s not that young, Misha”, he replied, shaking his head.

“Young enough to be your daughter?”, Misha teased, his grin widening as Jensen did the quick mental math.

Jensen blinked, his face scrunching up in exaggerated thought. “Wait…”, he began, only half-joking. “Oh man, don’t make me fucking think about that”. He laughed, but there was a touch of disbelief behind it as he rubbed a hand across his face. “I mean, technically…”.

Misha cackled, thoroughly enjoying the look on Jensen’s face. “Yep! Technically, you could be getting Father’s Day cards”.

Jensen groaned, his face still buried in his hands as Misha continued to laugh. “Misha, for real, stop”, Jensen muttered through his fingers. Misha was clearly in his element, and once he got going, there was no stopping him.

“Oh, come on”, Misha teased, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You’re telling me you’ve never heard her accidentally let slip a ‘Daddy’ during—”.

“MISHA!”, Jensen barked, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and amusement. His face turned a little pink.

Misha laughing even harder now. “What? It’s a valid question! You’re telling me that hasn’t crossed your mind at least once?”.

Jensen shook his head, still trying to stifle his laughter but also clearly mortified. “You’re a sick man, Collins. A sick, sick man”.

Misha’s grin only widened as he leaned in closer. “Oh, don’t act like I’m the only one who’s thought about it. You can’t tell me there’s not a little part of you that likes it—”

“Misha”, Jensen interrupted, his voice half pleading, half amused.

Misha just shrugged, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “You’re the one who’s dating someone young enough to—”.

Jensen raised his hand in surrender. “Alright, alright! I get it. Can we please move on from this?”.

Misha chuckled, but finally relented, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you a break—for now”.

Jensen shook his head, a mixture of relief and exasperation on his face. “Thank you. I don’t know how much more of that I could take”.

Misha, still grinning, leaned back in his chair. “You know I’m just messing with you. If she makes you happy, that’s all that matters”.

Jensen’s expression softened, and he nodded. “She does. More than I ever thought possible”.

“Well, since you’re on the topic”, he began. “I can only imagine what it’s like for you. Must be pretty amazing”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, bracing himself for what was coming next. “Misha, don’t you dare…”.

But Misha was already back on a roll. “I mean, she’s probably pretty tigh—”.

Before he could finish, there was a knock on the door. Jensen and Misha both froze, and then the door swung open. Jared and you stepped in, fresh from the rooftop bar.

Jared took a step into the room, casually glancing between Misha and Jensen with a smirk. “All sorted out?”, he asked, his tone laced with amusement as though sensing the playful tension that still lingered in the air.

You stood beside Jared, biting your lip as your gaze shifted from Misha to Jensen. Misha, however, let his eyes linger on you a little longer than Jensen appreciated, his smile still playful but edging on something else entirely. It was harmless, but it was enough to send a flicker of protectiveness through Jensen.

And even though Jensen wasn’t typically the guy to get all touchy in front of friends or make grand gestures of possession, something inside him clicked at that moment. Without a second thought, he extended his hand toward you, his fingers beckoning you to come closer.

You noticed the subtle shift in Jensen’s body language and immediately slipped your hand into his. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and pulled you close, right to his side.

Jared, ever the observant friend, sensed the slight shift in Jensen’s demeanor and couldn’t resist. He smirked, glancing between Jensen and Misha with an amused gleam in his eye. “Uh-oh”, Jared teased, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Looks like Misha’s mouth ran a little too loose again, huh?”.

Misha shrugged, still grinning mischievously. “What can I say? I live to entertain”, he said, feigning innocence as he leaned back in his chair. “Jensen knows I’m just messing around”.

Jensen let out a small, forced laugh, still holding you securely at his side. “Yeah, you’re always just ‘messing around’”, he replied, the playful edge in his voice not quite masking the underlying hint of annoyance.

You looked at Jensen, catching the tension in his jaw even though he was trying to keep things light. His arm tightened slightly around your waist, a quiet reassurance to himself as much as it was to you.

Misha stood up with his smile still in place, but there was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes as he extended his hand toward you. “Alright, let’s start fresh”, he said, his voice carrying that playful charm, but with a hint of genuine respect. “Misha Collins, Jensen’s friend—not the guy trying to get a drink with you like a few weeks ago”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way Misha so casually acknowledged the awkwardness of that previous encounter. Jensen’s grip on your waist relaxed as he watched the interaction, his jaw unclenching slightly now that Misha was making an effort to clear the air.

You took Misha’s hand with a smile. “Good to meet you again—under different circumstances”, you replied, shaking his hand warmly.

Misha grinned, shaking his head as if laughing at himself. “Yeah, let’s just pretend I didn’t spend half that night cluelessly trying to charm you while Jensen here probably wanted to strangle me”, he quipped, glancing at Jensen with a wink.

Jensen let out a low chuckle, his earlier annoyance fading as he saw the tension dissipate. “You have noooo idea”, he grumbled. “But I appreciate the do-over”.

Jared, watching the scene unfold with amusement, clapped Misha on the shoulder. “Well, better late than never, right?”.

Misha nodded, his grin widening. “Exactly. Now, with all that sorted, how about we get some drinks?”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

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[deadlydivergentgirl]

✨His true fate - Part 21/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, fluff

Word Count: 4615

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Instead of responding with words, Jensen leaned in, capturing your lips in a deeper kiss. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

As you kissed, you felt tiny water droplets from his damp hair falling onto your face, making you giggle. Jensen pulled back slightly. “What’s so funny?”, he teased, his eyes twinkling with affection.

“You’re dripping water all over me”, you laughed, wiping a few stray droplets from your forehead.

“Oh, am I?”, he said, leaning in and shaking his head slightly, causing more droplets to rain down on you. His playful gesture only made you laugh harder.

“Jensen, stop!”, you squealed, trying to shield yourself with your hands. But he just grinned wider, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“All right, all right”, he said, finally relenting. “I guess I should finish drying off”.

You nodded, still giggling. “Probably a good idea”.

As Jensen grabbed a towel to dry his hair, you took a moment to appreciate the lightness of the moment. It was a stark contrast to the intensity of your earlier conversation, and it felt like a small but significant step forward in your relationship.

Once he was properly dried, Jensen started to get dressed. You watched him as he closed his belt and grabbed a simple white shirt. He had been hitting the gym more often lately to stay in shape for his role as Soldier Boy, and it had paid off well. His muscles were more defined, and his movements carried an easy strength. You bit your lip, admiring the transformation as you sat on the bed.

Jensen noticed your gaze and the slight blush on your cheeks, and a playful smirk appeared on his face. “Enjoying the view?”, he teased, slowly buttoning his shirt but leaving the top few buttons undone.

You felt the blush deepen but met his eyes with a smile. “Maybe”, you replied. “You’ve definitely been putting in the work”.

“Well, it’s nice to know my efforts aren’t going unnoticed”, he said, stepping toward you. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he closed the distance between you, stopping just in front of you.

You looked up at him, your heart racing slightly at the proximity. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s been working hard”, you teased back, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter in your chest.

Jensen’s smile widened as he leaned down, his hands resting on either side of you on the bed, effectively trapping you in place. “Oh, I’ve noticed”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection. “Believe me, I’ve noticed”.

You felt a playful spark in your eyes as you mumbled, “Didn’t seem like you spent that much attention earlier”. Your voice was soft, teasing, referring to how quickly things had escalated before. Normally, Jensen took his time, worshipping your body with a careful, loving touch.

Jensen’s eyes twinkled as he leaned even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Oh, so you’re saying I’ve been neglecting my duties?”, he teased, his voice a seductive whisper.

A shiver of excitement ran through you, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe just a little”, you replied, your voice light but your meaning clear.

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and amusement. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you later”, he said, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing promise. “But for now, we have a date with Jared”.

You whined softly, not ready to let him go just yet. Pulling him closer, you tugged him down so he landed on top of you, pressing your lips back to his in a passionate kiss. Jensen’s initial surprise melted into a deep, hungry response as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your sides, holding you firmly yet tenderly.

For a moment, everything else faded away, and you were lost in the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the connection you shared.

Jensen pulled back slightly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You’re making it very hard to leave this room”, he murmured against your lips, a playful glint in his eyes.

You smiled up at him, your fingers trailing along his jawline. “Maybe that’s the point”, you whispered back.

Boldly, your hand moved between your bodies, cupping him through his jeans. He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening in surprise and pleasure. You could feel him harden under your touch, and his reaction sent a thrill through you.

“Teasing me now, are you?”, he asked, his voice husky with desire. He bit his lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Just a little”, you replied, your tone innocent but your actions anything but. You gave him a gentle squeeze, feeling the heat and firmness beneath the fabric.

Jensen groaned softly, his hips instinctively pressing against your hand. “You’re going to be the death of me”, he said, his voice strained with both amusement and arousal.

You bit your lip, giving him a tighter squeeze. “It’s not the first time you’ve said that”, you teased. His reaction to your touch sent a thrill through you, and you could feel the heat building between you.

Jensen’s eyes darkened further and he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “And it won’t be the last”, he murmured.

You grinned, enjoying the power you had over him in that moment. “Well, we can’t have you dying on me just yet”, you said, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path along his length.

Jensen’s breath hitched, and he gripped your waist tighter, his control slipping. “You’re impossible”, he managed, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his ear. “But you love it”, you whispered, giving him another squeeze.

He groaned again, his resolve crumbling. “We really need to go”, he said, though he made no move to leave.

“Do we?”, you challenged, your hand continuing its slow, teasing movements.

Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to regain control. When he opened them again, his gaze was intense. “Yes, we do. But later, you’re mine”, he said.

“I’ll hold you to that”, you replied, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “You make it very hard to be a gentleman”, he said with a wry smile.

You mumbled playfully, “You absolutely weren’t a gentleman earlier”. Pecking his lips quickly, you rolled away underneath his arms and stood up, smoothing down your soft dress with a satisfied grin.

Jensen chuckled, watching you with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Touché”, he said, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair, attempting to regain his composure.

You turned to face him, feeling the lightness of the moment. Just then, there was a knock on the door, followed by Jared’s impatient voice. “What’s taking you so long in there?”.

Jensen rolled his eyes and grimaced at the discomfort, discreetly adjusting his boner. “Great timing, as always”, he muttered, trying to find a more comfortable position.

You stifled a laugh, walking over to the door and opening it with a playful smile. “Sorry, Jared. We’re ready now”.

Jared stood there with his arms crossed, an amused yet impatient look on his face. “I swear, you two are worse than teenagers. Come on, I’m starving”.

You stepped aside to let him in, and he glanced at Jensen, who was still trying to compose himself. “You good there, man?”, Jared asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Jensen shot him a look that was both annoyed and amused. “Just peachy”, he replied, finally managing to adjust himself to a more comfortable state.

Jared laughed and shook his head. “Alright, let’s go before you two get distracted again”.

With that, you all headed out of the hotel room and down to the lobby. The cool evening air outside was a welcome relief, and the city’s energy was invigorating. Jared seemed ready to dive into a conversation, his usual exuberance leading the way.

Just as Jared was about to ask how things were going, he caught sight of Jensen’s face. “Again, Jensen?”, Jared asked, raising an eyebrow in a mix of concern and frustration.

Jensen groaned, clearly annoyed. “Yeah, Jared, again”, he replied, rolling his eyes. He was not in the mood to delve into the details right now.

You muttered under your breath, “Apparently, just I don’t get to know”, feeling a bit left out and frustrated with the secrecy.

Jensen shot you a disapproving look, his jaw tightening. “Not now”, he said quietly, but firmly.

Jared, sensing the tension, decided to defuse the situation. “Alright, alright, let’s not get into it here. We’re supposed to be having a good time. Let’s just focus on getting some food”.

You nodded, trying to let go of the frustration. The last thing you wanted was to ruin the evening. As you continued walking, Jared managed to steer the conversation back to lighter topics, sharing amusing anecdotes and keeping the mood as light as possible.

At the restaurant, you found a cozy table in a quiet corner. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, and the food smelled delicious. As you settled in, the initial tension began to ease, replaced by the comforting hum of conversation and laughter.

Jared’s efforts to keep things light paid off. Gradually, you and Jensen relaxed, enjoying the meal and each other’s company. The conversation flowed easily, and soon you were all laughing and joking as if nothing had happened.

It felt like the earlier frustration had been forgotten, replaced by the camaraderie you all shared.

After a while, Jared leaned back in his chair and glanced at Jensen. “Hey, Misha texted me earlier. He wants to grab a drink later. You in?”.

You felt a pang of discomfort at the mention of Misha. You remembered all too well the incident at the convention in Austin, where Misha had hit on you, unaware of your relationship with Jensen. Neither Jared nor Jensen had told him who you really were, and it had created an awkward situation. One that meant, with Jensen gone for drinks, you would be alone in the hotel room tonight.

Jensen hesitated, glancing at you. He could sense your unease, and it was clear he was torn. “I don’t know, Jared”, he said slowly. “Maybe we should just call it a night”.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Come on, man. It’ll be fun. We haven’t hung out like this in a while”.

You interjected gently, trying to defuse the situation. “It’s okay, Jensen. You should go. I’ll be fine here”.

Jensen shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I don’t want to leave you alone. We wanted to spend time together”.

You smiled at him, trying to reassure him. “It’s just one evening, Jensen. I can go check out the city”.

Instead of calming him down, Jensen’s expression grew more serious. “No way you’re going out there on your own. Seattle isn’t exactly known for being the safest place, especially at night”.

You appreciated his concern but didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on spending time with his friends. “I’ll be careful. I won’t go far, maybe just explore some nearby shops or grab a coffee. I’ll be fine”.

Jensen’s jaw tightened, and he looked at you with a mix of worry and determination. “I don’t like the idea of you being out there alone. Please, just stay here. We can both skip the drinks and have a quiet night in”.

You sighed, grumbling under your breath, “You’re so stubborn”.

Jensen shot back, a playful glint in his eye, “Right back atcha”.

Despite the frustration, neither of you could suppress a grin. It was clear that you both cared deeply for each other’s well-being, even if it meant butting heads occasionally.

Jared, sensing the playful tension, chimed in with a chuckle. “Well, it seems like you two have it all figured out“.

The three of you shared a laugh, the atmosphere growing lighter. After finishing your meal, Jensen paid for dinner, and the three of you started walking back to the hotel. The cool evening air was refreshing as you strolled along, chatting and enjoying each other’s company.

Just as you were nearing the hotel entrance, Misha came around the corner, not looking where he was going, and stumbled right into Jensen.

“Whoa, easy there!”, Jensen said, catching Misha by the shoulders to steady him.

Misha blinked in surprise, then broke into a wide grin. “Jensen! Jared! Hi! I just checked in. You’re not staying at the usual?”. He glanced over and saw you, recognition flickering in his eyes before a hint of confusion set in.

You could see the wheels turning in Misha’s mind as he remembered the Austin Con. His expression shifted from surprise to complete bewilderment, clearly lost as he tried to piece together what was happening between the three of you.

Jensen, sensing the awkwardness, pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Misha, it’s a long story”.

Misha looked between you, Jensen, and Jared, his confusion deepening. “Wait, so… you guys know each other…?”. He pointed between the three of you, trying to make sense of the situation. Jensen glanced around, noticing a few people starting to pay more attention to the group of actors standing together. The last thing they needed was to draw a crowd.

“Yeah, Misha, we know each other”, Jensen said quickly, his tone indicating that he wanted to move the conversation indoors. “Let’s head inside and talk. We don’t need to make a scene out here”.

Misha nodded, still looking a bit bewildered but willing to follow Jensen’s lead. The four of you made your way into the hotel lobby and quickly headed towards the elevators. Once inside the elevator, the awkwardness was palpable, but at least you were out of the public eye.

Jensen opened the door to his and your hotel room, letting everyone step inside. The atmosphere was still charged with confusion and anticipation. Once the door closed behind you, Misha raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Care to share?”, he asked, looking pointedly at Jensen.

You stood awkwardly in the room, not sure where to position yourself in this unfolding conversation. Sensing your discomfort, Jared laid a reassuring hand on your back. “Come on”, he said gently, “I’ll show you the rooftop bar. They’re gonna need some time”.

You nodded, grateful for the escape. As you and Jared made your way out of the room, you could hear Jensen start to explain the situation to Misha.

Jared led you to the rooftop bar, the cool night air and the view of the city lights providing a welcome distraction. “Sorry about all the awkwardness”, Jared said as you found a quiet corner to sit. “We should have handled this better”.

You smiled at him, appreciating his understanding. “It’s okay, Jared. Things like this happen. I just hope Misha understands”.

Jared nodded, ordering a couple of drinks for the two of you. “He will. Misha’s a good guy. It’s just a lot to take in all at once”.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the view.

Back in the hotel room, Misha sat down, still looking slightly bewildered. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and asked, “So, who is she?”.

Jensen hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he started to explain. “We met a few months ago at a liquor store in Austin. Jared and I were picking up some liquor for Jared’s birthday, and she was there. We got to talking, and I just couldn’t get her out of my head. One thing led to another and… it just clicked”.

Misha listened, trying to make sense of it all. “So, it’s been a few months, and you’ve kept it quiet all this time?”.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, it’s been kind of crazy with everything going on, but it felt right. We wanted to keep it just for us for a while, you know?”.

Misha’s expression softened a bit, but there was still a hint of confusion. “What about Danneel?”.

Jensen took a deep breath, clearly anticipating this question.

“Danneel and I… we’ve had an understanding for years now. We’ve been together for the public, for the sake of appearances, but we’ve both been seeing other people for quite some time. It’s been complicated, but it’s what worked for us”.

Misha listened intently, his confusion giving way to understanding. “So, it’s been more of a business arrangement than a real relationship?”.

Jensen nodded. “Exactly. It’s not something we talk about openly… obviously. But we both agreed it was for the best. We didn’t want to deal with the media frenzy or the impact on our families. But now… I’m planning to end things for good”.

Misha leaned back, processing the information. “Wow, that’s a lot to take in. I had no idea”.

Jensen rubbed the back of his neck once more, the tension evident in his body as he processed everything that had been said. “Yeah, I know”, he mumbled, the weight of the situation lingering in the air between them.

“I always liked Danneel, you know”, he admitted, glancing sideways at Jensen as though testing the waters.

Jensen raised a brow at that, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, you’re probably the only one”.

Misha blinked at the comment, caught off guard for a moment, before a small smile crept across his face. It was an open secret among their circle that Danneel wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with. The only one who seemed to have found common ground with her, outside of Jensen, was Misha.

“Well, somebody had to”, Misha quipped, his tone lightening the mood slightly. There was no malice in his words.

Jensen chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess so”.

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, the kind that comes from years of friendship and shared experiences. Misha, always the peacemaker, leaned forward again, his voice softer now.

“You’ve got to do what’s right for you, man. And if this is what you want—really want—then it’s the right move. You deserve to be happy”.

Jensen sighed, a weight visibly lifting off his shoulders after hearing Misha’s words. “Thanks, man”, he said sincerely. But then he added, leaning in slightly with a knowing look, “Just, you know… you’ve got to keep this on the down low. No one’s supposed to know what’s really going on yet”.

Misha raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Me? Gossip? Never”, he joked, but there was a twinkle in his eye that told Jensen he knew exactly what Jensen was getting at. Misha had always been known for spinning a good story.

“Seriously, though”, Jensen continued, the lightness still there but a hint of urgency in his tone. “I can’t have this getting out. We’re still figuring out the timing of everything. The last thing we need is the media picking it up before Danneel and I can handle it our way”.

Misha nodded solemnly, the humor falling away as he recognized the gravity of the situation. “I get it, Jensen. My lips are sealed”. He mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, earning a small chuckle from Jensen.

“Thanks”, Jensen said again, more earnestly this time. “I know it’s a lot to ask”.

Misha waved it off with a smile. “Hey, you’ve always had my back. Now I’ve got yours. We’re good”.

Jensen let himself sink into a chair, feeling the tension ease slightly after the conversation. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the weight of everything. It had been a lot to get off his chest, and now that it was out there, he felt like he could breathe a little easier.

Misha noticed the shift and grinned slyly at Jensen. “You know, Jensen”, he began, his tone teasing, “she’s pretty… well, pretty young, huh?”.

Jensen shot him a look, one that was half-amused and half-exasperated. “Really, Misha? You’re going there?”.

“Hey, I’m just saying, Ackles”, he said. “You’re not exactly getting any younger, and here you are with someone who probably still gets carded at the bar”.

Jensen groaned, rolling his eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “She’s not that young, Misha”, he replied, shaking his head.

“Young enough to be your daughter?”, Misha teased, his grin widening as Jensen did the quick mental math.

Jensen blinked, his face scrunching up in exaggerated thought. “Wait…”, he began, only half-joking. “Oh man, don’t make me fucking think about that”. He laughed, but there was a touch of disbelief behind it as he rubbed a hand across his face. “I mean, technically…”.

Misha cackled, thoroughly enjoying the look on Jensen’s face. “Yep! Technically, you could be getting Father’s Day cards”.

Jensen groaned, his face still buried in his hands as Misha continued to laugh. “Misha, for real, stop”, Jensen muttered through his fingers. Misha was clearly in his element, and once he got going, there was no stopping him.

“Oh, come on”, Misha teased, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You’re telling me you’ve never heard her accidentally let slip a ‘Daddy’ during—”.

“MISHA!”, Jensen barked, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and amusement. His face turned a little pink.

Misha laughing even harder now. “What? It’s a valid question! You’re telling me that hasn’t crossed your mind at least once?”.

Jensen shook his head, still trying to stifle his laughter but also clearly mortified. “You’re a sick man, Collins. A sick, sick man”.

Misha’s grin only widened as he leaned in closer. “Oh, don’t act like I’m the only one who’s thought about it. You can’t tell me there’s not a little part of you that likes it—”

“Misha”, Jensen interrupted, his voice half pleading, half amused.

Misha just shrugged, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “You’re the one who’s dating someone young enough to—”.

Jensen raised his hand in surrender. “Alright, alright! I get it. Can we please move on from this?”.

Misha chuckled, but finally relented, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you a break—for now”.

Jensen shook his head, a mixture of relief and exasperation on his face. “Thank you. I don’t know how much more of that I could take”.

Misha, still grinning, leaned back in his chair. “You know I’m just messing with you. If she makes you happy, that’s all that matters”.

Jensen’s expression softened, and he nodded. “She does. More than I ever thought possible”.

“Well, since you’re on the topic”, he began. “I can only imagine what it’s like for you. Must be pretty amazing”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, bracing himself for what was coming next. “Misha, don’t you dare…”.

But Misha was already back on a roll. “I mean, she’s probably pretty tigh—”.

Before he could finish, there was a knock on the door. Jensen and Misha both froze, and then the door swung open. Jared and you stepped in, fresh from the rooftop bar.

Jared took a step into the room, casually glancing between Misha and Jensen with a smirk. “All sorted out?”, he asked, his tone laced with amusement as though sensing the playful tension that still lingered in the air.

You stood beside Jared, biting your lip as your gaze shifted from Misha to Jensen. Misha, however, let his eyes linger on you a little longer than Jensen appreciated, his smile still playful but edging on something else entirely. It was harmless, but it was enough to send a flicker of protectiveness through Jensen.

And even though Jensen wasn’t typically the guy to get all touchy in front of friends or make grand gestures of possession, something inside him clicked at that moment. Without a second thought, he extended his hand toward you, his fingers beckoning you to come closer.

You noticed the subtle shift in Jensen’s body language and immediately slipped your hand into his. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and pulled you close, right to his side.

Jared, ever the observant friend, sensed the slight shift in Jensen’s demeanor and couldn’t resist. He smirked, glancing between Jensen and Misha with an amused gleam in his eye. “Uh-oh”, Jared teased, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Looks like Misha’s mouth ran a little too loose again, huh?”.

Misha shrugged, still grinning mischievously. “What can I say? I live to entertain”, he said, feigning innocence as he leaned back in his chair. “Jensen knows I’m just messing around”.

Jensen let out a small, forced laugh, still holding you securely at his side. “Yeah, you’re always just ‘messing around’”, he replied, the playful edge in his voice not quite masking the underlying hint of annoyance.

You looked at Jensen, catching the tension in his jaw even though he was trying to keep things light. His arm tightened slightly around your waist, a quiet reassurance to himself as much as it was to you.

Misha stood up with his smile still in place, but there was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes as he extended his hand toward you. “Alright, let’s start fresh”, he said, his voice carrying that playful charm, but with a hint of genuine respect. “Misha Collins, Jensen’s friend—not the guy trying to get a drink with you like a few weeks ago”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way Misha so casually acknowledged the awkwardness of that previous encounter. Jensen’s grip on your waist relaxed as he watched the interaction, his jaw unclenching slightly now that Misha was making an effort to clear the air.

You took Misha’s hand with a smile. “Good to meet you again—under different circumstances”, you replied, shaking his hand warmly.

Misha grinned, shaking his head as if laughing at himself. “Yeah, let’s just pretend I didn’t spend half that night cluelessly trying to charm you while Jensen here probably wanted to strangle me”, he quipped, glancing at Jensen with a wink.

Jensen let out a low chuckle, his earlier annoyance fading as he saw the tension dissipate. “You have noooo idea”, he grumbled. “But I appreciate the do-over”.

Jared, watching the scene unfold with amusement, clapped Misha on the shoulder. “Well, better late than never, right?”.

Misha nodded, his grin widening. “Exactly. Now, with all that sorted, how about we get some drinks?”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309

[deadlydivergentgirl]

Ohhh thank you soo much i really like it ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤💀💀💀😱😱😱😱

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

AN: Here we go! lol. This is the highly requested Part 2 to This One’s For You, over in the BMD-verse!

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, edging, teasing, fluff, and feels.

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

You gasped, your nails raking through his hair. Your grip threatened to rip out a few strands as you panted into his neck.

“Ben, please…for God’s sake…”

“Please what?” he said. There was grit in his voice when he spoke into your ear, but he was all too controlled. Taunting.

Asshole.

He was relentless, dragging his fingers inside your quivering pussy, rubbing his thumb around your clit, but almost never where you wanted him. Your thighs were shaking on either side of his frame as he had you naked on your back, writhing in the middle of your shared bed. You’d sucked him off until his spine rattled and his eyes nearly crossed, swallowing up as much as you could of what he had to give.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m sorry!” you burst in frustration, but you also had to stifle your laughter. Your husband narrowed his eyes at you, spying the hint of your smile.

“How come I don’t fucking believe you?” said Ben. With his elbow digging into the bed beside your shoulder, his occupied fingers curled inside you, finally brushing against the sensitive ridge of your inner walls. It drew a faltering moan from your lips. 

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he demanded. He bowed his head and laid a biting kiss along your throat. “Use your fucking words.”

You exhaled roughly, gripping his hair tight again. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you could allow yourself to grin in amusement.

Three Days Ago…

Ben was tired and more irritable than usual when he stepped into the Flatiron Building. The night before had been a battle of wills between him and his infant daughter, who’d been finnicky, having a hard time going back to sleep. He’d done his best to help her get back to sleep, since you had been dead to the world and unable to leave the bed (or so you’d seemed).

Now, he took the elevator up to the right floor and used his key to get into the office suite, where Butcher and the rest of your delinquent friends were already dicking around.

Some horrible French rap was playing on the Bluetooth speaker. Kimiko was flicking tiny pieces of paper across the dining table, into a “goal” made by Hughie’s hands. Frenchie wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron as he pulled a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven in the kitchenette, while M.M. swept the excess flour stains off the counter. 

Annie was trying to get Butcher to smoke his cigarette out on the balcony.

“Really, you had fucking cancer. You’d think you’d try a little harder to take care of yourself,” she said. Butcher gave her a wan smile, and blew a coil of smoke upward between them.

“Nice,” she said flatly.

But all that stopped when Ben strode into the room. They stared at him, each starting to smile, no matter how much some of them tried to hide it (like Kimiko, with a hand over her mouth).

“What the fuck’re you staring at?” Ben snapped. “We got a job, right?”

Butcher cleared his throat and recovered first. He dabbed his cigarette on an ashtray on the dining table and grabbed an iPad to give to the supe.

“Yeah, got us an escapee. Our little slumlord, Sapphire,” he said.

Ben frowned. Sapphire was the supe who nearly vaporized you a couple of years ago, after they broke up her drug ring. While he read the file documenting detailing her escape and what the CIA knew of her whereabouts so far, Hughie shared a look with Kimiko and Annie before he spoke.

“So, uh, how’s Lila doing?”

 Ben shot him a look through furrowed brows.

“Fine. She’s with her mother,” he replied. Hughie predictably asked about you, and again, Ben said you were fine at home with the baby.

“Lila’s almost a year old, right?” Hughie asked. “Aw man, that’s gotta be a fun age, right? I mean, fun, but challenging. All the crying, the diaper changing. Getting her to sleep through the night must be tough.”

Ben’s attention piqued at that, and not in a good way. His dark suspicion grew when his gaze flicked up to Hughie’s dumb fucking face, and then the rest of them, with their dumbass smiles. Biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, Annie pressed a button on her phone.

All of a sudden, Ben heard his own voice playing from the speaker.

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?”

“Now ain’t that a lovely warble,” Butcher remarked. Ben shot him a warning glare, but the Brit raised his hands in amused surrender. He crossed his arms and continued to smoke as he watched the scene unfold.

Ben tossed the iPad onto the kitchen counter and strode over to Annie with menacing steps, intending to put an end to this bullshit. She grinned and tossed her phone over to Kimiko, and Ben glowered, changing directions.

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened at the angry supe heading toward her. She tossed the phone to Frenchie next. The phone bounced between his flour-stained hands as he yelped in surprise.

“Oh, shit,” he uttered, when Ben began stomping his way.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

“A voice like warm butter,” Frenchie praised. He quickly tried to move from side to side to evade his attacker. “You should be proud, Monsiuer Grincheux! A man soothing his baby is a beautiful thing.”

“Shut your fucking cockhole,” Ben gritted out, but he still reached out when the phone sailed under his arm—only to land in M.M.’s hands. He froze with widened eyes, not wanting to be in the game. But it was too late, for him and Ben.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” his voice sang, more quietly, more tender, deep and baritone. “This one’s for you…”

A brief pause. And then—

“What the fuck’re you doing?”

M.M. managed to pause the video. A beat of utter silence, and then...

Everyone burst out into laughter. Hughie started it; he was damn near folded in half, leaning heavily on his girlfriend as he wiped a tear out of his eye. M.M. tossed the phone back to Frenchie, whose entire frame was shaking with restrained glee.

Ben’s jaw worked as he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill every one of these cocksucking morons.

And then you. Because how else had they gotten that video? You had to have sent it somehow before he got ahold of you last night.

“All right, enough!” he bellowed.

The entire room fell silent.

“First of all, erase that shit right now, or it’s coming out your ass,” he barked, pointing at Frenchie. The other man jolted and did as he was told.

“As for the rest of you, I better not hear another fucking word about this, or so help me Christ, I’m gonna do some barbecuing.” 

About three days later, Sapphire had been caught and re-imprisoned, and Ben returned home. He found you in the living room. He was taciturn to your happy smile when you welcomed him with a hug around his waist, though your smile fell after he didn’t respond to your kiss.

He slowly lowered his gaze down to you, and you knew.

Biting your lip, you soothed a hand along his cheek. “So, how’d it go?”

“Fine,” he said, but little else.

In fact, Ben didn’t speak to you for most of the evening. You tried cooking him a good hot meal, but he barely said two words to you. The only thing he did, before he was even showered and changed, was venture into the nursery to lay a gentle hand on his daughter’s head as she slept, over her downy brown hair. He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

After that, he strode past you in the doorway and slammed the door shut in the bathroom.

Aw shit. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help chortling with laughter. You should’ve known he’d be a great big man child about this.

So you decided to call your mom and see if she could take Lila for the night.

You had some damage control to do.

Now…

He'd brought you to the edge of your pleasure three times before he withdrew his mouth or his hand from your body, not letting you touch yourself, not letting you come—driving you to the point of frustrated tears.

You grabbed his head with both hands and guided him to look you in the eyes.

“Baby, please. Stop torturing me,” you pleaded. You used every tool in your arsenal to make him break, giving him soft, tearful eyes. You leaned up and pressed gentle kisses to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I need you,” you whispered, drawing him into deeper, messier kisses. Part of him started to falter. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed into your kiss.

But then, he stubbornly broke from you with a frown.

“Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “Now say it. Why the fuck are you sorry?”

You huffed in aggravation, but you twined your arms around his neck and brushed slightly sweaty strands of his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you said, even though your mouth began to curve upward. “It was a sweet thing you did, and I’m glad I captured it. But I am sorry that sharing that moment with our friends bothers you so much.”

“First of all, they’re your idiot friends,” he said. You wanted to interject on that one, but you knew he wasn’t in the mood, and you didn’t want to fight with him for real.

“Second of all,” he began…but he didn’t have any more words after that. They were caught between his irritation, and his unwillingness to even voice what it was he felt. Eventually, he found them.

“There’s some shit that needs to stay between us,” he said.  

You smiled, but you mercifully drew him down for another slow kiss.

“Okay, okay. I hear you. It’s not that big a deal though. You love your family, and look! Your macho-ness is still very much intact,” you said, gesturing at his very much hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Now are you gonna fuck me like a man, or do I need to find a vibrator that will?”

At that Ben looked down at you with a raise of his brows. His lips twitched, mostly at your audacity. Shaking his head, he slid a hand behind your neck and drew you in for a kiss, fueled by passion and frustration in equal measure.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips, urging him closer. His straining length pressed against your center, the wet tip slipping against your glistening folds. He groaned at the sensation.

“Please,” you repeated, licking into his mouth for a sensuous kiss.

The once-iron grip on his restraint finally broke. Ben slid a hand between you to hold himself to your entrance. With one smooth thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moan of relief echoed his own. If nothing else good came out of this situation, you two hadn’t had the time or the energy to go at it like this in a long time.

He grabbed your thigh and angled you higher, so he could sink in at an even better angle as he began to rut into you.

With all of his earlier edging and teasing, you were already so close. Your inner walls fluttered around him, welcoming him home and gripping him tight. All it took was a few well-placed swipes of his thumb over your clit to have you tumbling over the edge—a delicious cresting of pleasure that made you arch off the bed, biting your nails into his shoulders, a cry caught in your throat.

Ben fucked you through your release, all while chasing his own. His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts grew ragged, his own breathing shallow and rough, until his balls tightened and his body locked up on him. He spent himself inside you, coating your inner walls until he had nothing left.

He just barely managed to keep himself from smothering you as his body relaxed. You still welcomed his weight on you, soothing your hands up and down his back while you both caught your breath. Your thighs slipped from his hips, your feet meeting bed and sliding out a little.

Ben brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. Looking down on you now, his face gentled from its hardened angles and furrowed brows. You smiled lazily.

“Still mad at me?” you teased.

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a rough exhale through his nose.

“Something tells me you didn’t learn your lesson,” he said, somewhat incredulous, and yet, amused.

Your smile was undoubtedly cheeky, even as you leaned up to give him a sweeter kiss.

“Sure did, baby,” you said against his lips. And another kiss. “Lessoned learned, I promise.”

He really did roll his eyes this time.

AN: 😂 Ben just can't win, can he?

Translation: Monsiuer Grincheux - "Mr. Grumpy" in French

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[deadlydivergentgirl]

Dean Winchester died as a war hero during his third tour overseas. He left Y/N behind, and she decides that she needs a change. She leaves Lawrence to work at Camp New Moon, where a mysterious visitor shows up almost five years after Dean first left for his tour.

A Soldier!Dean Winchester x Reader Series

This series is complete.

One (Edited 8-10-24)

Two (Edited 8-18-24)

Three (Edited 8-24-24)

Four (Edited 9-1-24)

Part 5 (Posted 9-7-24)

[deadlydivergentgirl]

✨A Winchester Apology✨

Summary: Dean forgot your birthday. Good thing he knows exactly how to apologize to you.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Fluff

Word Count: 3010

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Dean Winchester had never been one for forgetting important dates, but somehow, your birthday had slipped through the cracks. It wasn’t like him at all, and you knew that his guilt was eating him alive. Dean was never great with apologies, especially when he felt truly bad about something. But he was determined to make it up to you in his own way—Winchester style.

The Impala’s headlights cast long, eerie shadows as Dean pulled up to the small cabin he had rented for the night. You sat beside him, arms crossed, doing your best to keep your anger simmering just below the surface. He turned off the engine, the sudden silence deafening in the forested seclusion.

“Hey”, he said softly, turning to you, his green eyes filled with regret. “I know I screwed up. But just… let me try to make it right?”.

You sighed, looking away from him. “Dean, it’s not just about forgetting my birthday. It’s about feeling like I’m not important to you”.

His face fell, and he reached out to take your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re the most important thing in my life, Y/N…Besides Sammy of course..But…I… Look. I don’t know how I messed this up, but I’m going to spend tonight making sure you know how much you mean to me”.

Reluctantly, you nodded. “Fine. One chance”.

Dean’s expression brightened, and he quickly got out of the car, moving around to open your door. “Thank you. Now, let’s get inside. I have a few surprises planned”.

The cabin was rustic but charming, a fire crackling warmly in the fireplace. Dean had decorated it with strings of fairy lights, their soft glow casting a magical aura over the room. A table was set with a delicious-looking spread—your favorite foods, of course. Dean might forget dates, but he never forgot your preferences.

“Wow, this is… actually really nice”, you admitted, feeling your anger begin to melt away.

He grinned, that classic grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “Only the best for you, sweetheart”.

You sat down at the table, and Dean poured you a glass of whiskey, knowing you hated wine, before joining you. The meal was delicious, the conversation easy, and you found yourself relaxing more and more. Dean was a natural charmer, and he was laying it on thick tonight, determined to win back your favor.

After dinner, he took your hand again and led you to the couch in front of the fire. “There’s something else I want to give you”, he said, pulling a small, neatly wrapped box from his jacket pocket.

Curious, you took the box and unwrapped it, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of an angel wing. It was beautiful, and you knew immediately that it held deep meaning—both of you had been saved by Castiel more times than you could count.

“Dean, it’s gorgeous”, you whispered, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

He moved behind you, gently brushing your hair aside to clasp the necklace around your neck. His fingers lingered on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m so sorry I made you feel unimportant. Let me show you how much you mean to me”, he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The intensity in his gaze took your breath away, and suddenly, you were very aware of how close he was. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/N”, he said, his voice low and husky. “And I’m going to spend the rest of the night proving it to you”.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, kissing you with a passion that left you dizzy. You melted into him, all the anger and hurt dissolving in the heat of the moment. His hands roamed your body, caressing and teasing, and you could feel the desire building between you.

Dean pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with lust. “I want you”, he whispered. “Right here, right now”.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, and he wasted no time in stripping you of your clothes. The firelight danced on your skin, and you felt a rush of excitement as Dean’s hands and mouth explored every inch of you.

“You’re beautiful”, he groaned, his lips trailing down your neck to your collarbone. “I can’t get enough of you”.

You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he moved lower, kissing a path down your body. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. By the time he reached your hips, you were trembling with anticipation.

“Dean, please”, you gasped, needing him more than you’d ever needed anything.

He looked up at you, a wicked smile on his lips. “Patience, baby. I’m going to make this unforgettable”.

And he did. Dean took his time, driving you insane with his mouth and hands until you were writhing beneath him, begging for release. He teased you with his tongue, tasting you slowly, intimately, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin.

“Oh, fuck, Dean”, you moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. He knew exactly what you liked, how to push you to the brink and keep you there, hovering on the precipice of pleasure.

When you finally couldn’t take it anymore, he moved up your body, kissing you deeply as he positioned himself between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he entered you with a slow, deliberate thrust that made you cry out.

“Fuck”, he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “You feel so good, baby”.

You clung to him, matching his rhythm as he moved inside you, the connection between you stronger than ever. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love and desire was a promise—Dean would never take you for granted again.

As he increased his pace, you could feel the tension building in your core, the pleasure intensifying with each thrust. Dean’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, and you gasped his name, the sensation overwhelming.

“Dean, I’m so close”, you panted, your nails raking down his back.

“I know, baby”, he groaned, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come for me. I want to feel you”.

His words were your undoing. With a cry, you came undone, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Dean followed soon after, his own release triggered by the feeling of you tightening around him. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name like a prayer.

When it was over, you lay in each other’s arms, the fire crackling softly in the background. Dean held you close, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

“I’m never going to forget your birthday again”, he said with a soft chuckle.

You smiled, resting your head on his chest. “You’d better not. But this was a pretty good apology”.

He kissed the top of your head, his hold on you tightening. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to”.

And you knew he meant it. Dean Winchester might be a lot of things, but when it came to you, he was always sincere. As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the love you shared, imperfections and all.

The next morning, the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred in Dean’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. As you opened your eyes, you found him already awake, watching you with a tender expression.

“Good morning”; he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Morning”; you replied, your voice still groggy from sleep. “Did you sleep well?”.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time”, he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Having you in my arms makes all the difference”.

You blushed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Last night was… pretty amazing”.

He chuckled softly. “It was. And I meant what I said, Y/N. I’m going to make sure you know how much you mean to me, every single day”.

You spent the morning lazily wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing. The peaceful solitude of the cabin was a welcome change from the constant chaos of your usual lives, and you savored every moment of it.

As the day wore on, Dean suggested taking a walk through the woods. The idea of spending more time with him, away from everything, was appealing, so you agreed. You wandered through the trees, the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves creating a serene soundtrack to your conversations.

After a while, Dean stopped, turning to face you. “I know I haven’t always been the best at showing it, but I don’t know what I’d do without you”.

You reached up to cup his face, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere, Dean”.

He leaned down to kiss you, a slow, tender kiss that conveyed all the emotions words couldn't. The peacefulness of the forest, the warmth of his embrace, and the intensity of his gaze all combined to make you feel completely cherished.

As the kiss deepened, Dean's hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own private universe.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Dean rested his forehead against yours. "I love you so much", he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

You smiled. "I love you too, Dean".

You talked about everything under the sun—your favorite memories, your hopes for the future, the little things that made you laugh. It was as if a weight had lifted, allowing you both to be completely open and honest.

After your walk, you returned to the cabin, where Dean had another surprise waiting. He had set up a cozy picnic by the lake, complete with a blanket, pillows, and a basket filled with your favorite snacks.

“You really went all out”, you said, genuinely touched by the effort he had put into making the day special.

Dean shrugged, a shy smile playing on his lips. “You deserve it”.

You spent the afternoon lounging by the lake. The sun set in a blaze of colors, casting a warm glow over everything, and you felt a deep sense of contentment.

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you lay back on the blanket, your head resting on Dean’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both gazed up at the constellations.

“You know”, Dean said after a while, his voice a low rumble in the quiet night, “I used to think I didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you. But being with you, it makes me realize how lucky I am”.

You turned to look at him, your heart swelling with love. “Dean, you deserve all the happiness in the world. And I’m lucky to have you too”.

He kissed you again, slow and sweet, his lips lingering on yours. The kiss deepened, and soon you were lost in each other once more, the world around you disappearing as you focused solely on the feeling of his body against yours.

Dean’s hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer as he kissed a trail down your neck. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his exploration. The heat between you intensified, and soon you were both breathless with desire.

“Let’s go inside”, Dean whispered against your skin, his voice husky with need.

You nodded, and together you gathered your things and made your way back to the cabin. Once inside, Dean didn’t waste any time, his hands and lips finding you once more as he backed you against the wall. You gasped as he pressed his body against yours, his arousal evident through his jeans.

“Dean”, you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down gently on the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you.

You reached for him, pulling him down for a kiss. The feel of his body on yours, the weight of him, the heat—it was intoxicating. Dean moved against you, his hands sliding under your shirt, his touch igniting a fire within you.

You helped him remove your clothes, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps as his hands and mouth explored your skin. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love and desire heightened your senses, driving you wild with need.

When you were finally bare before him, Dean paused, his eyes raking over your body with a mixture of reverence and hunger. “You’re fucking perfect”, he said, his voice filled with awe.

You blushed under his gaze, feeling both vulnerable and incredibly aroused. “Dean, please”, you whispered, your body aching for his touch.

He didn’t need any further encouragement. Dean moved over you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as he settled between your legs. You could feel the heat of him, the hardness pressing against your core, and you moaned, arching into him.

“Do you want this?”, he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

“Yes”, you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “I need you, Dean”.

With a growl, he pushed into you, slow and deliberate, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your fingers digging into his back. Dean paused, giving you a moment to adjust, his eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?”, he asked, his voice tight with control.

You nodded, your body humming with pleasure. “Yes, I’m perfect”.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one sending waves of ecstasy through you. You matched his rhythm, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The connection between you was electric, every touch, every kiss, every breath bringing you closer to the edge.

Dean’s pace quickened, his control slipping as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your moans mingling with his as you both chased the peak of pleasure.

“Y/N”, he groaned, his voice a raw whisper. “I’m so close”.

“Me too”, you gasped, your body trembling with the force of your impending release.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both tumbled over the edge, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. You cried out his name, your body shaking. Dean followed, his groan of satisfaction echoing in your ears.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and spent. Dean rolled to the side, pulling you into his arms, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

“I love you”, he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “So damn much”.

“I love you too”, you replied, snuggling into his embrace.

You fell asleep in his arms, the warmth and safety of his embrace lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, you woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Dean humming softly in the kitchen.

You stretched, feeling deliciously sore from the night before, and smiled as you remembered the events of the previous two days. Dean had gone above and beyond to make it up to you, and you felt more connected to him than ever.

You got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, where you found Dean cooking breakfast. He turned when he heard you, his face lighting up with a smile.

“Morning, beautiful”, he said, setting down the spatula and pulling you close. “I made breakfast. Hope you’re hungry”, he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sat down at the table, and Dean served you a plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. The meal was delicious, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple, intimate moments you shared.

As the day turned into evening, you found yourselves back at the cabin, sitting by the fire.

“Dean”, you said after a while, your voice soft. “Thank you for everything. This weekend has been perfect”.

He smiled. “I’m just glad I could make it up to you. I never want you to feel unimportant again”.

You squeezed his hand, your heart full of love. “You’ve more than made it up to me. I feel more loved and cherished than ever”.

Dean leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. “Good”, he whispered against your lips. “Because you are. More than you’ll ever know”.

You kissed him back, your heart swelling with emotion. The love you shared was a rare and precious thing.

As the fire crackled softly in the background, you and Dean held each other close, savoring the quiet, intimate moments that made your love so special. You knew that life would continue to throw obstacles your way, but with Dean by your side, you felt ready to face anything.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the love of the man you adored, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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