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writtenbeneaththestars · 12 days

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The burn of your touch

Summary: how everyone else found out that Lia had been assaulted Warnings: past sexual assault, flashback/panic attack, brief thoughts of suicide, brief self-harm, thoughts of self-harm (please tell me if I missed anything!!) A/N: I love Lia so much and protective Dean and Michael fuels my entire existence so yk this came out *please tell me if I made any mistakes!!*

Tags: @catapparently

“So,” Michael said, his voice tantalizing and smooth. “Are we doing this?” Lia returned with a smirk.

“Well, they already know, don’t they?”

They both knew who she meant. The rest of their family. They had kept their new get-back-together as a secret for about a month before Lia needed to distract the rest of them when they had gotten into trouble. It wasn’t her fault Cassie got them caught while they were coming back from some party or other. Even Sloane managed to keep it together, but oh no, Cassie just had to give it away. She was noticing a trend with that girl – she was a terrible liar.

Michael brought his hand up to her face. But the moment their skin made contact, it was like a switch had been flipped. Because Michael turned into him. She could feel the rough skin of his hand on her face and it– it couldn’t be.

She was back in the room. Her old bedroom.

Everything was white. It was dark outside. He was sitting there. He couldn’t– she had to make up a lie. She had to– she had to– it couldn’t be– it couldn’t–

No. It wasn’t real. This couldn’t possibly be real. But it felt so real and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. But she had to get away. She had to get away– as far away as she possibly could because she– she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t– she couldn’t let it happen. Not again.

She was supposed to be free.

Michael was confused. One moment his girlfriend was fine and they were getting ready to make out again, and the next she was flinching away and– god the pure terror on her face. Her eyes were vacant, as if they weren’t really there. And she was so scared.

The dread and fear and self-hatred and pain was so clearly visible it was palpable in the air.

In all of the years he’d known her, Lia Zhang’s emotions were never this easy to read. It was like she was in a completely different world.

“Hey, um, Lia?” He asked, reaching out his hand. He hadn’t even touched her yet before she flinched violently away, backing into the corner and curling into a ball. She was moving as far away from him as possible, and that hurt something deep inside him. “Ok,” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Ok. So no touching. Got it.”

He was back. He was back and there was nothing she could do. Not this time. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t– why wasn’t he listening? She could– she could be a good girl. She could be good. She could be perfect. She would do everything he told her to do. Why wasn’t he listening?

Michael didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen her like this. Not Lia. Not the girl who was always so… strong. The one that never broke. He wanted to scream at himself, because he should have known, especially as the emotion reader, that the ones that look the strongest are the ones who are hiding their hurt.

He was advancing. She wanted to scream at him and push him back but she couldn’t. Because none of this could be real. She’d spent so long trying to prevent this from happening. It couldn’t– it couldn’t possibly be happening.

“Ok,” he repeated. He could tell her breathing was quickening now. It was shallow and fast and she was hyperventilating. And he knew that was bad. “I’m, um, I’m going to get Dean, alright?” She didn’t react. So he practically ran out of there, his heart pounding and his thoughts racing.

It was all her fault, wasn’t it. She should have known this would happen. She should have been good and everything would have been fine. But it wasn’t fine because he was here and he literally could not possibly be here because she– she wouldn’t survive if he was. But he was here. He was in her room and he closed the door and sat on her bed and– he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t– he couldn’t– he–

Michael ran down the hall to Dean’s room, pounding on the door once he got there. He heard giggling behind the door and he wanted to scream at whoever was behind there that this wasn’t a time for laughing. That something was happening with Lia and he felt so freaking powerless and he needed to do something, anything to help her so how dare they laugh? Dean opened the door, a light expression on his face.

“Hey, Townsend, stop assaulting the door. Jeez, what’s up with–” he stopped, his face darkening when he saw Michael’s face. He would have felt bad for ruining Dean’s mood, but not now. He realized on some level that he must have stopped hiding his emotions, but it didn’t matter that he was showing Dean what he was feeling because he was so effing scared and worried and– he just needed Dean to come. “Michael,” Dean said again, his voice louder and firmer than it was before. “What. Happened.” Under different circumstances, he would have made fun of Dean for his voice shaking. But under different circumstances, he wouldn’t even be here.

“Lia.” He could only let a single word out of his mouth. His voice shook the slightest bit. The moment the word made its way out of his mouth, he could see Dean’s expression change. The worry, the fear, the anger, it all multiplied exponentially. Michael heard Dean curse, his voice shaking. He knew how much Dean cared about his sister. How protective he was of her. How out of all of them, Dean knew the most about her past.

“Which room?” He asked. Michael could see the self-hatred and the pent up anger, but for once he wasn’t going to aggravate it.

“Mine.” Dean nodded, brushing past Michael. Lia hardly ever let anyone into her room. Michael had asked her about that once but she just brushed it off. It didn’t matter now though. How could it?

“Hey, what’s going on?” Cassie asked, walking up to the door. Michael couldn’t answer. The only thing it seemed that he was capable of doing right now was following Dean.

The moment Dean entered the room and saw Lia on the ground, he ran toward her. He knelt down next to her and reached out a hand but she flinched away with a scream that tore Dean’s chest in half. He wasn’t the emotion reader, but Dean knew what kind of scream that was. It was the sound of someone who had been hurt and knew they were going to be hurt again. The kind of desperation and resignation that made him want to punch someone over and over again until they were dead because his sister didn’t deserve this.

He wouldn’t leave. He kept coming closer. She deserved it, didn’t she. She– she deserved it, didn’t she? It was all her fault. And she– she really couldn’t breathe. She felt like she was about to pass out, and that would be better than this. Anything is better than this. With him.

“What did you do,” he asked, turning around to look at Michael. His voice was dark and dangerous, but he didn’t care. He was vaguely aware that Cassie walked in.

“Nothing,” Michael said. He was clearly worried and scared which meant something was deeply wrong with everything because Michael never showed his emotions. “I– we were going to kiss but then she flinched away and she– I don’t know.”

“What’s happening?” He heard a quiet voice behind him. He could see out of the corner of his eye that it was Sloane. He didn’t know when or how, but somehow he was on the ground again. He made sure to sit a few feet away from her, but she really needed to start breathing normally.

“We were going to kiss, and I didn’t do anything, I swear! But then she kind of just flinched and now she’s on the floor, screaming whenever anyone touches her.” Dean could see Michael pacing, and he wanted to do the same himself. Ok, that wasn’t true. He wanted to punch a punching bag until everything was ok again.

She needed to be not here. To be anywhere but here. To be anywhere but with him. She needed him to go away. He won’t go away. He won’t go away and she can’t move and she can’t breathe and she– she just couldn’t anymore, she just couldn’t she–

Sloane walked closer and sat down a few feet away from his sister on her other side, but she was looking at Dean, as if she was trying to communicate something without actually having to say it. And something told him that whatever she had to say would hurt him in one of the worst ways possible.

“What is it, Sloane,” he asked softly. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again and shook her head.

“Hey, Lia?” She said instead. “It’s ok. He’s not here. You’re safe. This house has incredibly high security measures, I can attest to that, and everyone here is safe to be around. He’s not here. You’re not there. You’re in Michael’s room, and you’re safe.” It took Dean’s buzzing brain a moment to register what Sloane was saying in her words. Lia was having a flashback. And as Sloane kept repeating it over and over again, it took another second for him to realize the rest of Sloane’s implications. Something about a man. He had a few suspicions about what specifically, but he refused to believe that it could be true, that someone could– no.

There was a faint noise. She could make out a few words. Something about being safe. But she wasn’t. He was here. He was here and she wasn’t safe and– and she couldn’t breathe. But then the voice said something about him not being here. But he was literally here. He was right in front of her, he was right there and coming closer. And then the voice said something about not being there. Of being in Michael’s room. It took her a long moment to realize who Michael was. And it took another moment for her to realize who the voice belonged to. Then she blinked and he was gone, though his touch still stayed.

After who knows how long, Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Lia’s eyes seemed to finally return to the present.

“Lia, can you– can you breathe for me please?” He said softly. Her eyes snapped over to him, and her breathing quickened still more, before she seemed to realize who he was. Dean wanted to scream when he realized that right now, men were terrifying for his sister and she was terrified of him. That hurt on a level he wasn’t aware was possible. “It’s ok. You’re safe. You’re safe in Michael’s room. I just need you to breathe, Lia, ok?”

She shook her head as she scrunched her eyes tightly closed and started clenching and unclenching her hands. Then she started scratching herself, and Dean wanted to punch the wall. He had forgotten what her panic attacks were like. It had been a few years since he’d seen one, and he wanted to yell at himself for thinking that they had just gotten better when he should have realized that she had just gotten better at hiding them.

“Hey, Lia? Don’t hurt yourself, ok?” She didn’t seem to hear him. And he wanted to hold down her hands, but that would just trigger her more and he felt so effing useless. “Please, Lia.” He whispered, scared that any volume above that would make her go back to wherever she was.

“Can’t,” she gasped out, her nails digging into her hand. “Breathe.”

“Just breathe in for four for me, ok? Can you do that?” He needed her to listen. He needed her to be ok. He wanted to jump up in joy when she followed what he said. It didn’t matter that it was way too quick to actually be effective, it was working. “Ok, now just hold it for four. That’s it. Now out for four. That’s good. That’s good, Lia.”

On some level she was aware that Dean wasn’t going to hurt her. That he was safe. But the voice kept switching back and forth and back and forth between Dean’s and his and why couldn’t she breathe? She followed what the words said. What the voice told her to do. She just wanted it to be over. She needed it to be over.

As her breathing slowly and shakily returned to normal, she stopped scratching herself and Dean could see the smallest amount of blood. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be ok, but he knew that would be bad. He just needed his sister to be ok.

She leaned her head against the wall and for the first time in a long time, Dean saw just how exhausted she was.

“Lia,” he heard Michael say. In his peripheral vision Dean saw him kneeling down next to Sloane. “What happened?”

Lia was so tired. She just wanted to sleep except she hated sleeping and being on the bed because he– no. She refused to think about that. Not now. She shrugged, rolling her eyes. At least she could finally breathe now.

“Flashback or panic attack type thing. What, have you never seen one before?” Her tone was flippant, thankfully.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Michael’s voice was soft. Gentle. Like she could break at any moment and she hated that. She hated it so much. That was how he treated her mother. And she would not become her mother. She refused to.

“One, stop treating me like I’m fragile.” She shot a glare at Michael. Then she let out a sigh and leaned her head against the wall. She really would have to do this, wouldn’t she. “I was nine the first time. That was when I killed a man. Lies are protection, you know, and they’re also weapons. He just kept coming. But the lies always worked. They kept him back. Away. So it was safe. Then I turned twelve, and of course puberty happened and suddenly, they– the lies stopped working.” She was distinctly aware of her voice shaking. She could still feel him all over her. He had never stopped being all over her and she– she needed him to leave. She shrugged as she tried to block out the memories that were flooding into her mind.

“Lia, I–”

“No.” She cut Michael off, not looking at him. She was shaking. Why couldn’t she stop shaking? “Don’t, Michael.” She took another shaky breath. “He called my honey, sweetie, darling, any supposedly endearing term you can think of and he called me that.” She closed her eyes, lost in the pain. “He said I was special.” Her voice was barely audible, but she knew everyone in the room heard. “She knew what he did to girls he called special. She let him anyway.” She opened her eyes again. There weren’t any tears. There weren’t any tears because this had long progressed beyond the point of crying. It hurt too much for tears. She was too numb to cry. She knew that was a juxtaposition, but she didn’t care enough to make sense of it.

“He’s gone now,” Dean said and she wanted to curl up next to him like she used to do when she was younger and it was just the two of them and she had just started trusting him. But she couldn’t because she– she didn’t deserve to be comforted. And she’s scared that if he touched her, she would get transported back in time again and she couldn’t handle that.

“No, he isn’t.” Her voice shook. She hated that. “They never caught him. He’s a serial rapist on top of everything else and they never caught him.” She saw Dean flinch, as if he couldn’t quite believe that Lia had been– no. She hated using that word for herself. “And she just let him.” She sounded broken. She couldn’t quite bring herself to care; she was just exhausted. The only thing she wanted to do now was to sleep and never wake up. She was aware that it sounded like dying. Maybe she did want to die.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sloane sounded so desperate for her to understand. “I– I should have said it when you first told me, but it wasn’t your fault, Lia.” Lia let out a soft laugh.

“Wasn’t it? If I had thought of a better lie, if I had found another way to keep him away, if I was invisible, if I wasn’t special,” she spat out the word. “If I had been better then it wouldn’t have happened.” She wanted to cry. She really, really wanted to cry but it hurt beyond the point of crying. Plus, she had already used up all her tears the night before in the safety of her locked room. There couldn’t possibly be any left.

“Lia,” Dean said with a strange intensity she hadn’t seen in him before. “It’s not your fault. Please, trust me. It’s not your fault.” Lia smirked for a brief second.

“Dean-o, you know I have trust issues.” He gave her a soft smile. She could tell that he wanted to hug her and hold her and she hated that he couldn’t. And god, why was he still all over her?

“Your mother shouldn’t have done that,” Sloane whispered. Oh Lia loved that girl.

“When I was still debating whether or not to take her with me, she told me she loved me.” She took a shaky breath. “And it was the truth. The funny thing about truths is that if you believe it, anything can be true.” She closed her eyes. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to figure out if that was really true or if she just believed it was true.”

“People who love you don’t– they don’t let that happen. People who love you don’t do that to you.” Sloane’s voice was vibrating with intensity. Lia gave her a soft smile.

“I know,” she whispered. And suddenly the overwhelming presence of him became way too much and she– she needed to get away. She needed him to be gone. She stood up, aware on some level that she was still shaking. “I’m taking a shower.” She clenched and unclenched her hands, yearning to feel something physical to get rid of the mental anguish. She knew the moment she stepped foot into that shower she was going to have a breakdown and she was going to make herself bleed but she couldn’t bring herself to care, she just needed him to get off of her.

“Hey, Lia?” She heard Dean say when she started shakily walking to the door. She stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “I– we’re all here for you.” She nodded the slightest bit. “And we’re going to catch him and make him pay.”

“Ok.”

But it wouldn’t be enough, and she knew that. Just like she knew that no matter how many showers she took, he was still going to be all over her. He was never going to leave.

And so what if the moment she stepped into the bathroom she broke down crying?

#my failed attempt(s) at writing #guys that's just the tag I use for my writing so it's easy to find #lia zhang #michael townsend #dean redding #sloane tavish #cassie hobbes #the naturals #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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lotties-ashwagandha · 3 months

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CURSED (nsfw)

billie dean howard x gn!reader, word count 1.2k

the premiere of the new season of billie's show gets rescheduled last minute, but you have a way to take her mind off the disappointment.

A harsh silence enveloped the two of you. You were sitting at the edge of Billie’s bed, and you watched as she set her phone down on the vanity and began to pace the length of the room.

The premiere of her show had been rescheduled on short notice. You were meant to fly out with her tomorrow for press meetings, interviews, every opportunity for recognition Billie deserved for her work. Your suitcases were packed and ready at the foot of the bed.

Billie looked into the mirror of the vanity, sighing as she fixed a non-existent flaw of her eye makeup with the edge of her pale pink acrylics.

You were at a loss for what to do – you had tried comforting her verbally, but she had barely said a word to you in the minutes after receiving the call. She got like this often when she was upset, silent and uninterested and cynical.

You stood from the bed. Tentatively you stepped toward her. You placed your hands on her waist when you came up behind her, resting your chin on her shoulder and watching her reflection in the mirror.

Disappointment swam in her eyes as she stared unfocused into her own reflection. You knew how much she had been looking forward to the premiere. Even if it would take place in a few weeks instead of tomorrow, the two of you had been planning this weekend for months.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “that it was canceled. I know how excited you were.”

Billie nodded, taking one of your hands in her own. She offered you a halfhearted smile in the reflection of the mirror. “You didn’t cause it, don’t apologize.”

In response, you pressed a kiss to her neck, the junction where her neck met her shoulder. After a moment you kissed her again, and began to move up her neck, trailing kisses up to her jaw. You felt her relax slightly under your touch, a great sigh leaving her chest.

Billie turned in your arms. She kissed you, bringing a hand up to rest at your jaw and looping her arms around you. The kiss was almost lazy, natural and reflexive to the two of you. You were overcome by the love evident in her touch.

She pulled away only for a moment before capturing your lips again. This time, you felt hunger in her embrace – in the way her lips met yours in a way dripping with desperation, in the way she was backing you towards the bed.

You denied your instinct to let her push you onto the bed – you wanted this, and she did too, but you wanted to give her more. You wanted her to feel the same euphoria she often gave you before herself, especially after the evening’s disappointment. She needed distraction, as was evident in every moment you spent in her arms, and you were always willing to give it.

You turned her, reversing your positions. A look of surprise came over her features as the backs of her thighs pressed against the bed.

You hadn’t said anything, but she nodded at the proposed switch in roles, and when you tried to push her down onto the bed, she let you. Billie pulled you down on top of her, slipping her hands under the hem of your shirt and letting them travel up your back. In a moment of impatience she pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the floor.

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Keep them there,” you warned her with a stern look, and she smiled at you in amusement. You hardly ever took dominance over her, it was foreign to both of you, but you were enjoying it.

“This is new,” she taunted, unserious, yet you could see the desire clawing at her through the mask of her ego. “You’re learning, and so well.”

You shook your head, brushing off her comment. You didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer, pulling off her blouse and attaching your lips to her chest. Her breath caught as you trailed kisses down her sternum, nipping at her chest, leaving marks in your wake as you traveled down her abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured into her skin, and a slight blush overtook her features. She shifted restlessly – her anticipation was evident, beautiful in the fervor with which she needed you. You understood why she was usually so addicted to you underneath her, you were drunk on the power of having her need nothing in the world but you.

You moved between her legs, and instinctively her hips bucked toward you. As you pulled the rest of her clothes off she let out another sigh, this time out of pleasure, out of desire.

With air-light touches you caressed her thighs. Slowly you kissed up the length of them, watching her expression closely. Desperation overtook her features, and her breath was shaky. One of her hands had moved to weave into your hair, a wordless plea for your attention.

Just as she thought relief would finally come between her thighs, you moved away. With a look of satisfaction you climbed back up her body, straddling her, leaning down to kiss her.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a whine. No one ever denied Billie anything, especially you.

You shrugged. You trailed your hand down her abdomen, let it rest at her hip as you watched her squirm. “Beg.”

She scoffed. She shook her head. “I’m not begging.”

With a tantalizing smile you moved your hands away. Her only form of contact was the way you were straddling her. “Prove how much you want this. Beg for it, or you get nothing.”

She sighed, and desire won over her pride, though it was not without a battle of ego. “Please,” she said. “Please, I need this. You know I need this, I need you.”

You considered her words a victory, one of the scarce victories of dominance you took over her. In reward you slipped back between her legs. Finally relief came to her, your tongue sliding through her wetness. Billie moaned, her hips bucking into you again. You held them down, circling your arms around her tense thighs.

You focused yourself on her clit, noting every response her body gave to your ministrations. Her moans, her whines let freely go as you slipped two fingers into her. She gasped, her new grip in your hair tightening dramatically as you set a pace that was quickly ruining her.

Though earlier she had been utterly opposed that you’d made her beg, quiet pleas spilled from her lips as you brought her closer to the edge. Your name on her tongue like a curse, like poison you would drink from the fountain of your devotion.

“Cum for me,” you murmured when she was close, and her body responded immediately – you coaxed her through her climax, the pace of your tongue and your hand working in sequence to prolong it as much as you could for her.

When she came down from it, you pulled away. You laid at her side, pulling her into you to press a kiss to her shoulder and then to her lips, the two of you engulfed in the softness of her newfound peace. Billie relaxed into your embrace, letting you hold her as exhaustion overtook her. Peace found you both in inexplicable wonder, anxiety cursed in your devotion.

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deepdisireslonging · 1 year

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Some Old Favorites

I was reminiscing, looking back through my masterlists, and I wanted to reshare some smutty fics. They didn’t get a lot of love back in the day because I didn’t have many readers yet. Some of you have found them and loved to read them as much as I loved to write them. But I wanted to share them with some of my new friends/followers too. Happy Reading!

DC Comics:

Two Hoods, One Revenge: The reader has nightmares of the day that turned her into a vigilante. Jason helps her keep them at bay; first with soothing words, then with something more hot and heavy.

Hickey Victory: Dick gets his hands on a marshmallow gun… but he forgets about your nerf gun stash. Shenanigans occur.

A Night at the Theater: A mission demands the public appearance of Bruce Wayne and yourself at a theater. The mission is quickly put to rest, which leaves you plenty of time to appreciate your husband during intermission.

A Nightly Affair: Nightwing keeps mistaking your apartment for his and you two grow very close. Very. Close. So close as to put you in danger, unless Nightwing can find you first. [Series Masterlist]

Marvel:

In the Eye of the Beholder: Part 1 | Part 2 : The reader gives an unexpected lap dance. Bucky approves.

All in a Night’s Work: The reader come face to face with the sniper that has been evading them for years. When things don’t go according to plan, Loki distracts them till they can get some much-needed rest.

Dirty Lips: When Y/N introduces a swear jar to the team, Steve takes it upon himself to fill it all by himself.

To Love the Sea: Y/N is the daughter of a sea-side innkeeper. The area is known for its draw for pirates, but one pirate is feared above all others: Captain Loki. He offers to take her on adventures; is she willing to take the plunge? [Series Masterlist]

Supernatural:

The Pointy End: You are research headquarters at the bunker while Dean, Sam, and occasionally Cas, are on cases. Dean comes home to you after a very long case, with a surprise. (My very first fic!)

Deep in the Archives: Sam takes the reader to a rare books library while they look for a spell book not at the bunker. The reader is focused on the task, but Sam’s roaming hands are a distraction.

Satisfied: An imagine of Castiel using his grace on you.

SPN History Challenge: A Werewolf in Whitechapel: The Winchesters and the reader go to London during the Whitechapel murders, also known as the Jack the Ripper murders, with the theory that the perpetrator is not human. They are correct, but when the killings don’t stop, the team has to retrace their steps and riddle out what stone they left unturned. Written for @kittenofdoomage and @saxxxology-main SPN History Challenge.

Boxer!Dean AU: Consequences: Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester, a boxer who is forced to win or lose depending on how much money his bosses want to make in matches. Can their combined effort break the fixed boxing ring? [Series Masterlist] (No smut, but still a favorite)

Wrestling Fics:

Chiffon in the Streets, Lace in the Sheets: The reader and Elias are newly married and ready to enjoy their first night as man and wife, but a few things get in the way first. (WWE)

Dangerous: After defending herself at a bar, Y/N impresses the dark figure sitting in the corner booth. Prince Devitt further impresses her. One thing leads to another, and she welcomes knowing him better. (NJPW)

A Reflection of Us: The reader gets a slight injury in a match. Roman takes his time making sure the reader is safe but very satisfied. (WWE)

Troublemaker: The reader ran off with something belonging to Kenny Omega. He makes sure she pays for it. (NJPW/AEW)

Doubt Comes In: While Rosemary battles Su Yung in the Underworld, Y/N meets and welcomes a new face to TNA. But two battles are raging instead of one. If Y/N is victorious, can she settle the insecurities in Rosemary’s mind? (Answered request) (TNA)

Sister in Arms: Finn can’t seem to shake the effects of his feud with Bray Wyatt, so an old friend comes to help. Then Y/N finds herself battling on two fronts: in the ring and in her mind. [Series Masterlist] (WWE)

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daughterofcain-67 · 6 months

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🎄𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈!🎄

Christmas is around the corner and I’d like to start writing some one shots or mini series to get ready for the holidays! Here are some ideas to request from if you’d like 🥰

And if you can think of any other ideas that aren’t listed and you’d like to see, feel free to let me know!

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛:

Jensen Ackles

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Beau Arlen (Big Sky)

Boaz Priestly (Ten Inch Hero)

Soldier Boy / Ben (The Boys)

Alec / X5-494 (Dark Angel)

𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜:

Seeing snow for the first time

Ice skating

Secret Santa

Christmas Decorating

Snow angels

A Christmas Alone

Sitting by a Fireplace

Making Gingerbread Houses!

Ugly sweaters

Catching a Cold on Christmas Eve

Going to a Christmas Party

Matching Christmas Pajamas!

Christmas Baking gone wrong!

Gift shopping

Snowed In

Christmas Letters

Building a Snowman

Mistletoe

New Years Party

New Year’s Kiss

𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎:

"You didn't really think I would let you spend Christmas alone, did you?"

"Have I told you how much I hate Christmas shopping?"

“Why are you so impossible to shop for?”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“What’s the point of a tradition if no one keeps it?”

“My house, my rules. Christmas music stays on.”

“You’ve really made my Christmas this year.”

“Please don’t make me wear this, I look ridiculous!”

“It looks like Santa threw up in here.”

“Stop trying to get me to walk under the mistletoe!”

“You’d make a cute elf.”

“You didn’t put up decorations, so I decided to do that for you.”

“I can’t believe no one has spiked the eggnog yet.”

“Can’t you feel the Christmas spirit?” - “No.” - “Well that’s about to change!”

“If you make me sing carols, your ears might bleed.”

“Who taught you how to bake!? You nearly burned the house down!”

“When was the last time you’ve even decorated for Christmas?”

#jensen ackles #supernatural #dean winchester #spnfandom #big sky fanfiction #beau arlen x yn #Jensen Ackles red hood #dark angel #alec x reader #alec mcdowell #jensen ackles x you #boaz priestly

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Text

Every Other Weekend, Part 4

Summary: another date with Dean, but this time you get caught

Pairings: Dean Winchester X Reader, Jack O’Malley X Callum Drift

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, PIV sex, some dirty talk, mentions of divorce, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.3K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Jack leaves his son's side quickly to go into the interrogation room. This was not at all what he signed on for. Robyn knew the rules. She was never to come here to see him under any circumstance. And of course she would show up on a day that you were going to be here any minute, and a day that Finn was here.

He slings the door open, and stands staring at her with his hands on his hips, “Jack, I, uh…why are you angry?”

“The correct question is why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you. I thought…”

“Look,” Jack starts. He looks out of the room to see that Cal’s massive body was blocking Finn’s view. “I don’t know what you think this is, but…it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” Robyn asks. Her mouth turns up to a devilish smirk. “What exactly am I thinking Jackie?”

“I asked you never to call me that. I asked you not to show up at my place of work. You know that my son is here, and that my wife,” Robyn, makes a gasp looking up at him, “Yes, my wife. You know she comes here to pick him up. You are not to be here.”

“So I’m your dirty little secret?”

“What secret?”

“We’re dating.”

“No, we’re not,” Robyn nods her head a few times, and Jack slaps his hand on the desk. “We’re not dating. My wife and I are working through some things.”

“Then why the fuck are you calling me? Why do we go out to eat when it’s not your weekend? Why do you…”

“I get fucking lonely, okay? And this was a mistake. Of all people, it shouldn’t have been you I turned to, and I’m the fool for that. But dating? We haven’t even held hands, or kissed, and I’ve never even slept with you. You’ve never stayed at my apartment.”

“Because anytime I ask, you tell me that you’ve got Finn, and I know for a fact you don’t.”

Jack stands up straighter, and takes a step back from her. “How do you know? You do not involve my child.”

“Maybe that’s why your wife is leaving you, Jack. You want everything. Want to fuck her, but you have better conversations with me. You said that she always wanted something more from you. Always wanted you to be at home when sometimes you wanted to be out with the guys. I’d allow you to do that. But you need to get a grip on reality, she’s leaving you.”

“I want you out of here. I don’t want you to call me. I don’t want you to show up at my work, and I want you to keep my wife and son out of your mouth. They are no concern to you. I let this go on for too long, knowing I never wanted to fuck you. There’s the door.”

She walks to the door, and stops to turn around to look at him, “When she leaves you, do not come running to me for a wet place to put your dick.”

“Get. Out!”

She walks out of the precinct, heading down the stairs when she spots you. Looking up she gives you a quick smirk, and pulls her phone up to her ear, “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight since you won’t have the kid.”

You try to keep your head held high as you walk into the station. Trying to ignore the fact that you were pretty sure she was the girl. And if Jack was seeing her, then he could keep seeing her. But to have her around your son, you couldn’t tolerate, and you wouldn’t.

Callum flicks the back of his partner’s head. Jack groans briefly, but doesn’t move. His friend sits at his desk beside him, staring at Jack, “Don’t say I told you so.”

“What happened? She finally leave your sorry ass?” Jack holds his hand up, and quickly shoots Callum a bird. “Jack, that woman was where your son was.”

“I didn’t ask her to be here.”

“That woman was where your wife was going to be,” Jack sits up, and kicks his feet on the desk, turning his face to glare at Callum. “Okay, let’s play devil’s advocate here. Say you went into her salon, and she’s cutting some guy’s hair.”

“She always does that.”

“But say Finn is sitting in the break room, and the man whose hair she’s cutting is the man that she has been dating. And try to deny it, Jack. She’s dating someone. Fowler is already trying to get in her pants, but she is genuinely having fun with a man that isn’t you. But that man is sitting in her chair, and…”

“I’m not dating Robyn. I was never dating Robyn. That was never my intention with her. She worked at the DA’s office, and it was easy to talk to her about work.”

“You should have been doing that with your wife,” Jack dramatically rolls his eyes, slamming his face back down on the desk. “Jack, you turned to another woman with your problems. Don’t you think that your wife would have wanted to hear that? Listen to that? She loved you. And she’s trying to make sense of this. Trying to find herself, and who knows what she thinks happened. What she does know, is you put someone else first before her and Finn. That woman was here, and she saw her. It doesn’t matter about what happened, because what did happen was enough, and it hurt her.”

The two sit in silence for a moment, before Jack lifts his phone up. He reads the text slowly, before he narrows his eyes at Cal. He gives the man a once over, before sending a text back. “Why are we texting?”

“Because, instead of finding a woman to hover over, you’re dating me. The fair is in town this weekend, and it's your weekend to have my little buddy. So, we’re going to get out, you’re going to have a good time. And you’re not going to think about how that might have been the end of your marriage,” Jack throws a wadded piece of paper over towards Cal, who sticks his foot out, and pushes his chair back. “Maybe you won’t screw our dates up.”

“You know I don’t have Finn with me, right?” You ask as Dean pulls into the fairgrounds. “Like honestly, the last time I went to the fair without my son was…”

“With me, huh?” He gives you that boyish sweet smile, and you nod over at him. “It’ll be fun. We can go on the Ferris wheel, and the boat, and there’s the fun house, and we’ll eat disgusting but still delicious fair food, and I’m going to win you a huge stuffed bear.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll make the most of this as long as you promise we can go back to your place afterwards, and watch Netflix or something,” you hope that he was understanding what you were implying, and he nods excitedly.

“Yes! There’s a new movie on there I’ve really been wanting to watch,” you hoped Dean wasn’t as oblivious as you were now believing, but you were sure getting him alone at his place would make things easy to be hot and heavy.

You actually enjoy walking through the fair with him. You felt like you were in high school again, and even the way he timidly put his hand in yours made you look quickly down at the two of you. It seriously was just like highschool. Getting to the games, you drop his hand for him to throw baseballs at a target.

“You’re not eighteen anymore, Dean.”

“I still got it,” he throws a ball right in the center, but the target doesn’t fall back. “That’s a bunch of horse shit. I hit that.”

“Congratulations. Here’s a toy,” the operator gives him the most adorable small bear, and he holds it out to you with a frown.

“It’s perfect,” you giggle at him. He pulls you along to the Ferris wheel, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, while he rests his chin on your head. Waddling up to the bucket before they help the two of you get it.

His arm goes around you quickly, and he pulls you in close. Waiting until they stop you at the top when those candy apple green eyes turn to look at you, “What do you think of the view up here?”

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, but never look at the view, just at him in front of you. “Dean,” his hand tightens around your shoulder, and he brings you in for a bruising kiss. Your hands card through his hair, while his other hand steadily moves up your thigh. Forgetting the outside world, while you enjoy this moment.

His tongue rubs over your lips, and you hungrily invite him in. The tangy lemonade still lingering on his tongue, and you didn’t think it was possible, but he pulls you even closer. Nearly on top of him when Jack looks up at the ride gawking.

“What are you…uh!” Cal shouts, moving to stand in front of Finn and his friend. “I did not ever expect you to have front row seats to her date.”

“That’s the gym teacher! Winchester,” Jack grunts out, and looks back at Finn who was just talking up a storm to his friend. “That’s who she’s dating? A Gym teacher?”

“Wait, the one that you met at the school when Finn had a bloody nose?” Jack brings his thumb and forefinger up to his temple needing to think for a moment. He wanted to think about a lot of things, and none of which involved Dean basically groping you in front of a crowd. His hand sliding up and down your thigh, and dipping in between your legs.

“Could he not?” Jack says as the ride goes back up. Dean’s hand sliding completely up against your core, and you lean even more into him. “I don’t like this. I wanna go home.”

“We just got here. From the looks of it, they’re not staying much longer,” Jack’s body turns to face Callum, and the bigger man grabs his stomach laughing. “I shouldn’t make fun of your misery, but your wife is a catch. Isn’t he an ex?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Makes sense. It’s easier to rebound with someone you’ve already slept with.”

“What?” Jack’s voice goes up an octave, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Jack, come on man. That woman thinks you’ve been sleeping with Robyn. She needs to feel good again. Not sappy crying good, but someone that makes her feel she’s the only one on the roster.”

“She was,” Jack looks back at Finn, just to make sure that he and his friend were still there, but to see if they had noticed you on the ride. They were both deep in conversation about some Pokémon or other, and paying no mind. “She was it.”

“Quit lying to yourself, bud. You brought this on yourself. Let her figure out what she wants to do in her time. So she sleeps with him,” your estranged husband rolls his eyes, and then turns to glare back at you freely giving yourself to Dean. “You’re not together, she’s cut you off. Or she goes after Nick, Ow,” Cal grabs his arm after Jack hits him. “Foul. Don’t hit.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“Let it go. This is your own undoing. The bigger question is how are you going to keep the little man from seeing his mom all flustered and panting from his gym teacher?”

The ride stops, and you bite your lip, looking up at Dean, “Can we leave?”

“Yep,” his voice was raw as he holds your hand stepping off the Ferris wheel. “We’ll go wherever…”

“Mom?” You stop in your tracks, trying to get past the line, but there your beautiful son was, and your equally handsome soon to be ex husband. “What are you doing here? And with Coach Winchester?”

“I’m not here with Coach Winchester. I came here with Susan, and she ditched me, and I really wanted to ride the Ferris wheel, and Dean was here,” Jack can’t even meet your eyes. He saw you, and it only made you stand taller. “Dean, it was very nice to see you out, but maybe I’ll see you at school.”

“Right,” he smiles nodding his head, “Finn, I’ll see you Monday,” he walks away from you, and you start to leave as well, but Jack grabs your arm.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“At least I don’t pretend to be in love with you, while sleeping with another woman.”

“I wasn’t and have not slept with her.”

“Then maybe you should call her up next weekend. Or maybe she only likes taken men. Good luck with that,” you push his hand off you, and give Finn a quick hug before stomping off to find Dean, hoping that his place wasn’t far from here.

“Jack, I don’t even want to hear it. I want to get on this ride with you, and pretend that this didn't happen. I warned you. She warned you, hell, your mom warned you. I hope she has fun tonight.”

“I hate you.”

“Not as much as she hates you right now. You gave her fuel to…”

“Shut up! The last thing I need is an image of my wife having angry sex with the gym teacher,” Cal gives him a smile as he sits in the bucket. Giving the seat a little tap for Jack to join him. “She’s with the gym teacher, and I’m stuck with you.”

“You know, all those nights you were stuck with me, while she was in bed alone should have prepared you for this,” Jack spots you quickly, wanting to look away, but he can’t. He’s sure that it isn’t love that you were feeling for Dean, but there was definitely an animalistic attraction. The ride on the Ferris wheel showed him exactly what was going to happen, but he hated himself. Not you.

“She’s really gone isn’t she?”

“You’re judging this because of the gym teacher?” Jack nods his head. His eyes following you towards the fairground exit. “She’s not going to marry that man.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oldest saying in the book. The best way to get over a man is to get under another. Meet her another. She may end up regretting it. He’s more into her than she is him, but honestly, he’s just an idiot. She’s still married, and he thinks he’s going to marry her or have a lasting relationship. It honestly is what it is. You need to worry about the storm that comes after him,” Jack turns to look at him with wide eyes, “Oh, come on. She thinks you cheated on her. She’s getting out there, and she’s either going to find someone, or she’s going to realize that you are worth putting up with.”

“I’m not.”

“Then, I’d say get ready for a long winter. A long cold one, but then again, sometimes Santa Claus makes Christmas miracles happen.”

“Well, if you see him, tell him I want my wife back for Christmas. I’ll do anything. Whatever she wanted,” Jack follows you and Dean all the way out to his car, and Callum can’t help but smile. His eye twinkles for a moment, and he hopes that Jack means what he says he means, because life can be funny sometimes.

You push Dean past his door, your lips connecting to any part of his body. Both of your fingers begin a near fight to see who could get clothes off fastest. Getting an article of clothing off only for your bodies to push back up against each other. Your fingers push off his shirt, and you run your hands up his chest, but he pushes you off him.

“My god, you still look amazing. Better. You’re curvier.”

“Shh,” you tell him quickly as you undo his button. “Where’s the bedroom?” Dean wraps his hands around your ass, before lifting you up. Letting your covered core feel his bulge, and your body searches for any type of relief. Hunching on him as he carries you into the room. “Condom?”

“Yeah, I got you,” he tosses you on the bed, and while he reaches for the rubber, you shimmy out of your panties, and he stops, staring at your naked body. Your swollen folds slippery and glistening.

You smirk at him, and run your hand over your slit, biting at your lip, “Dean, I promise you it’s much better from the inside. Just put the condom on.”

He puts the packet in between his teeth, ripping an opening. Pulling the latex out, he slowly rolls it on his length. You weren’t the only one that had changed in all those years. Dean was now a man, and he knew how attractive he was. Still had that rugged boyish charm, but that deep gravelly voice traveled straight to your pussy, “Dean, I’m waiting.”

He grabs at your ankle, and jerks you down the bed. Flipping your body around, and lifts you up to your knees. Flattening his hand out, he gives your pussy a few slaps. Hitting it over and over again, before one abrupt push has him balls deep into your cunt, and you mewl in desperation.

It had been so long since you had anyone else’s cock, that this felt foreign. He was thick. While he was deep, it was comfortable. He slowly pulls himself out, before snapping his hips back into you. Letting your fingers cling to the blanket, and you turn to look back at him. He was only staring at where the two of you connected.

Watches every time that he pulls out, and your walls hug him so tightly. Pounding into your ass harshly, and he grabs at your hips. Going even harder with the added leverage. There was nothing he loved more than your hands trying to find something to grip to. You were arching yourself more, wanting him to hit every part of you.

This was not the sweet love making from years past, this was manic and hard. Even the way he wrapped an arm around you to play with your clit. Moaning when your juices drip onto his palm. “Did I make you that wet, honey, or is your cunt that needy? Fuuck! You’re squeezing me so tight. You missed me didn’t you?”

You just wanted to feel the pleasure. Wanted to ignore anything he was saying. “I knew it. We were meant to be,” what? “It’s like the universe brought us back together. And perfect timing.”

“Dean…”

“It’s okay. I feel it.”

“That’s just my cunt because I’m about to cum.”

“No. I feel the warmth radiating off of you.”

“Again…my cunt. Dean, fuck me harder.”

“Ugh,” he grunts as he slams into you even harder. Your arousal leaks onto the bed, and you let out a pornographic scream. Arching your back as complete euphoria takes over your body. Bliss settles over you, and he starts to change his pace.

This wasn’t going to work out. You push and pull yourself on his cock instead. Getting the perfect angle and speed. Slamming your cunt onto his cock, and you start to see stars. You were pissed. Pissed at Jack for trying to ruin your evening. Pissed at Dean for making this more than it was, and pissed at yourself for thinking your first love was going to be the answer.

Whimpering out in your anger and pleasure, your legs start trembling as you gush over his cock, “Dammit,” you scream. Crawling off of him, you grab his hand and yank him on the bed. You were a grown woman and knew how to take control. You settle over his cock. Riding him with your face pointing at the ceiling. This wasn’t how you wanted the evening to go.

You wanted to be fucked. Face down on the pillow. Fucked so hard you went stupid. And now you were having to do all the work. Your thoughts run rampant in your mind, because Jack had to plant that little seed in your brain. You still loved him, and that pissed you off. It pissed you off because you knew you deserved better than a man that would run around on you. A man that would have his mistress at his work and around his son. Pissed because this was hard, and it sucked.

“Right there. Right there, baby. I wanna fill you up. Never did that. Let me do it.”

“Shut up!” You scream at Dean, still unable to look at him. You cry through your anger. Your tears only provoke another orgasm. Dean’s own head tilts back, and he chirps as he lets himself go. You slow your bounces to a steady grind before you come down from your high. Looking down at Dean somehow made this worse. You could never give him all that he was wanting. You didn’t work out with him for a reason. You just wanted an easy lay.

Crawling off of him, you go to gather your clothes, “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“What? Why? You’ll be there alone.”

“I need to be alone right now,” he starts to say something, but you push your finger up against his mouth. “Don’t go chasing after me. I can’t do this. I don’t want what we had when we were kids. I don’t want to go in reverse, or visit the past.”

“We’ve had fun these past few weeks.”

“Dean, I can’t be the woman you want me to be. You understand that, right? I can’t pretend that I’m not angry and hurt by Jack. I don’t want to be that vulnerable with you. This lovesick moment you cooked up in your head, can’t happen with me.”

“But you're my girl.”

You give him a soft smile, and lean down to kiss his lips gently. “I’ll always be your girl. But that girl grew up, and she’s now a woman. With a child and a divorce on the horizon. I’m not who I used to be, and I’m not apologizing for my growth, because I’ll continue to grow, and so will you. You deserve someone that will be this submissive wife to you. That doesn’t have the baggage I have. And one day, you’ll have that.”

“I could have it with you,” his pouty face always got you, and you had to look away shaking your head. “I could.”

“That’s not me anymore, Dean. Take care of yourself, and don’t take this out on my son. Everything I do always has to benefit him. You’re not just dating me, you’ll eventually date him, and you have never asked about him. Never talked about him. You get snippy if I have to leave to get him. He is my everything. And one day, when a woman gives you that, you’ll understand. But I can’t have someone look at Finn as an annoyance. Take this for what it was. Two people who were once in love fuck one last time. And it felt good.”

You give him one more final kiss before booking you a ride. You hated that you had to possibly hurt someone to spread your wings, but you never gave Dean any indication that you wanted anything serious. He still didn’t fulfill your need for just hard pounding sex. You pull out your phone, and send a message to Nick, ‘Two weeks from today, I could use a night.’

One night?

‘That’s all I want.’

I can provide that.

You look at your other messages, but click off to text Frank. He was the only one that you gave your personal number to. ‘Vacation anywhere in the world, where would it be?’

Puerto Rico. Good food. Sun. Don’t need a passport. And could spend all day doing nothing. Or drinking. Or eating. There’s water, and boats, complete fun. You?

‘I like your answer.’

If you had to live anywhere else in the world where would it be?

‘Somewhere out west in the middle of nowhere so I didn’t have anyone to bother me. You?’

Anywhere where I could be in the middle of nowhere is fine with me.

You click out of the message to send one to TJ, ‘I need wine!’

The dick not that good?

‘He thought we were going to get back together.’

I’m bringing pizza and caramel M&Ms. Also bringing Nutella and Biscoffs.

‘I love you Teej.’

Did he at least wear something? I don’t want another oopsie baby even if I love Finn with all my heart. Next baby I want you to be completely in love.

‘Yes. Now bring me junk food.’

Jack peeks into his son’s bedroom to find him and his friend passed out, and trash was everywhere. One look at him was the only confirmation he needed to prove that once upon a time you and Jack truly loved each other. He thinks about when you and him were the happiest. Had learned to make a few hookups, turned family work out.

He gathers up the trash out of the floor, throwing a blanket on each boy, before he leaves. Checking his phone to only see desperate texts from Robyn. He clicks on her info before blocking the number all together. He didn’t care what you were going through right now, he would prove that he could be both the father and husband that you deserved. No matter what.

You were made for him, and he was made for you. He didn’t care if it took until the divorce was final for you to realize that. He was going to be the partner he should have been all along. Seeing you with Dean had hurt him more than anything he could realize. You looked awkward and foreign in his arms, and he finally understood the pain he caused you when you had to see the calls and texts that were being sent to Robyn. You wouldn’t be seeing them anymore, and that was a promise. And one he would keep.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedjanes @missusbarnes-rogers @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @rebekahdawkins @seitmai @smile1318 @buckysteveloki-me @andydrysdalerogers @sgtjaamesbaarnes @elrw24

#every other weekend #jack o'malley #jack o'malley x reader #jack o'malley x fem!reader #jack o'malley x y/n #jack o'malley x you #jack o'malley fanfiction #jack o'malley fic #jack o'malley fics #jack o'malley x callum drift #red one #red one fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut

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theirprofoundbond · 11 months

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Red Letter Day

Dean/Castiel. 18.6k. Mature. No Archive warnings apply. Red letter day: A particularly significant day; usually used to refer to a memorably important or happy occasion. Dean proposes to Castiel, and they plan a small ceremony with a big reception. From the first look to the first dance, and from a public emotional speech to a private one, their summer wedding is a red letter day. A sequel to Hidden Things (canon divergent from 13x22) that can be read as a standalone. Read it on AO3.

“I love our home,” Dean murmurs. “I love you.”

Castiel feels a rush of tenderness, and his wings twitch with the desire to encircle Dean. “I love you, too.”

Dean lifts his head and props himself up on an elbow, looking down at Castiel. Castiel searches his face for any sign of the burden he’s been carrying, but Dean lowers his lips to Castiel’s for a long, unhurried kiss.

When Dean pulls away, opening his eyes, Castiel finds some indefinable reservation there, the barest hint of strain in his slight smile.

He’s leaning down to kiss him again when Castiel says, “Dean.”

Dean nuzzles Castiel. “Don’t get all serious on me now, Cas.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I’m trying to make out with you, here.”

Castiel pulls himself into a sitting position and Dean sits up, too, frowning.

Castiel takes Dean’s hand. “I’m worried about you,” he says. “You haven’t seemed like yourself, since you got back from South Carolina.” Dean looks away, like he’s been caught. Castiel squeezes his hand and waits for Dean to speak.

Dean meets Castiel’s eyes, smiling a little, and squeezes his hand back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“It’s alright,” Castiel says. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Dean nods. “I am. And we can talk about South Carolina in a second. But first I…” He breaks off, draws a breath, and says, “I need to ask you something.”

“Of course, Dean. Anything.”

Read Red Letter Day on AO3 | Listen to the playlist Check out my writing tag: rachaelly writes

#Destiel #DeanCas #Destiel fanfic #fanfiction #rachaelly writes #Red Letter Day fic #Home Fires universe #reblog #Happy wedding anniversary to Dean and Cas! 💚💙#Old fic but now it has a shiny banner! ✨#A big thank-you to Tom for helping me out with it 😊#The banner not the fic lmao

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cr0wqui11 · 4 months

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I'm writing the fic rn and I keep writing that JD leans against things

#heathers #heathers fics #heathers musical #JD #jason dean #heathers fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #The Wine is Blood Red #TWIBR

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raisinghellonstarbug · 1 year

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OK SO UPDATE!

Wow thank you so much for all of your prompts so far I really appreciate and you did not disappoint! 💗

I guess considering the amount of prompts which I did not expect to get already so far I have quite a bit of writing to do! 😁

(may have put a rod for my back but we shall see hahahah assfjdfdkjfb!!)

Anywaay...

So just wish to shoutout and say thanks to @britcombruh @beckthehopelessromantic @jhangelface0523 @vickyfarley and @thelittlebirdwriter for all of your prompt requests, please bear with me and I will try and get on your ideas asap!!

ALSO

I have decided that besides being happy to receive requests for Sastiel, Midam, Dean or Sam W x reader, James Acaster x reader (or other British comedians x reader) and Sam Fender x reader, I have also two more ships that I will also consider writing a fic about if you would like:

Red Dwarf fans, my 2nd favourite ship of all time (can't believe I forgot momentarily)!! Please send me your Rimmer x Lister prompts :)

And Heartstopper fans! Send me your Nick x Charlie ones (currently my third/fourth favourite ship)

If anyone else has prompts for any of these fandoms or perhaps anymore then please let me know. If I know the fandom and know the ship, I will consider other ideas.

Thanks again everyone!

Peace,

Luna x

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thewnchstrs · 2 years

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Red Sky at Morning

Pairing: Winchester!Sister (OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie investigate the mysterious demise of drowning victims who were nowhere near water at the time of their death.

Disclaimers: toe-curling smut, mentions of death, mentions of murder

Word Count: 11.4K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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I watched the puddles fly past on the road below us, the street lamps reflecting in its shiny water. The car was silent, save for Dean's mixtape quietly playing through the speakers. It was the perfect breeding ground for my mind to race at a million miles a minute.

I glanced to the front of the car where Dean was rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. I could tell he hadn't been sleeping lately. In the middle of the night I'd wake up, catching him pouring over lore books about demons and crossroads deals. I felt so guilty over how much energy they were putting into trying to save me when I knew it was hopeless.

I'd also noticed the Colt, specifically, its missing bullet the night after we'd finished up our last hunt. I shifted on the seat, my eyes bouncing between the two of them.

“So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs," I began, my voice cutting through the quiet. Dean's eyes bounced up to mine in the rearview mirror as Sam looked at me over his shoulder. "You got something to tell me?”

Dean frowned as he thought about it. “It's not your birthday.”

“No.”

Sam hesitated, looking to Dean for help. “...Happy Purim? El, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about—”

“There's a bullet missing from the Colt," I said, and instantly I knew this wasn't news to them. "You guys wanna tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans...”

“Ellie…” Dean sighed, but I cut him off.

“You went after her, didn’t you? The crossroads demon. After I told you not to!"

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, well...”

“You guys could have gotten yourselves killed!”

“We didn't," Dean countered. I chuckled in disbelief, shaking my head.

“And you shot her.”

“She was a smartass!”

I sat back against the leather seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “So, what? Does that mean I'm out of my deal?”

Sam looked back at me, “Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, El? No. Someone else holds the contract.”

“Who?”

“She wouldn't say.”

I brought my bottom lip between my teeth. “Well, we should find out who. Of course, our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh, wait a minute...”

“That's not funny," Dean shot at me.

“No, it's not! It was a stupid fucking risk, and you shouldn't have taken it!"

“We shouldn't have taken it?" Dean asked, incredulously. "You're our sister, Ellie. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, alright?”

I kept my eyes locked on his until he pulled them away to look back at the road. I knew Dean was right. They weren't going to stop until they found a way out of my deal, but I knew it wouldn't end well.

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

Our next case brought us to a wealthy neighborhood situated just beyond a lake lined with boat docks. Yachts and jet skis all parked, bobbing above the blue waters.

Our victim's closest living family member was the first person we decided to talk to. She was pushing eighty, her white hair pulled back into a loose bun revealing the large pearl earrings and pearl necklace she wore. She was holding an oil painting of her niece as she spoke, “But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives."

“Right, yes. But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department – different departments," Dean said.

Sam nodded along to Dean's words. “So, Mrs. Case...”

“Please…" She said, cutting Sam off, "Ms. Case.”

Sam glanced to Dean and I as Ms. Case smiled fondly at him. Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Okay. Um, Ms. Case...you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

“I came home, she was in the shower," she confirmed.

“Drowned?” I questioned.

“So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?”

“How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death?" Dean asked, avoiding her question. "I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or...?”

Suddenly, Ms. Case broke out into a large grin. “Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?”

“Yep. Absolutely," Dean said immediately. "That Alex and us, we're like this.” Dean held up his two crossed fingers.

“Why didn't you say so?" She beamed as she took a seat on her floral patterned couch. "Alex has been such a comfort. But I’m sorry. I thought the case was solved.”

“Uh...well, no. No, not yet."

“I see.”

I cleared my throat, trying to get this woman back on topic. “So, anyways, we were talking about your niece.”

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat.”

“A boat?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I motioned toward the marina just outside Ms. Case's window. "Aren't there boats all over the place out there?"

“Well, yes, but this one she said was a ship...with great big masts and everything, just like one out of a pirate movie," she explained. "One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes...you think it could be a...ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.”

Sam, Dean and I shared a look. “Well, um...could be.”

"Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," Ms. Case said as she reached a hand out toward Sam, resting it on his arm and smirked up at him. "Anything at all.”

Dean and I desperately tried to hide our laughs behind our hands as Sam shot her a quick nod and quickly pulled his arm away.

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

“What a crazy old broad," Dean laughed as we rounded the corner off of Ms. Case's property and back toward the busy main street.

“Why? Because she believes in ghosts?” Sam asked.

“Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound," I laughed, making Sam shake his head.

“Bite me.”

“Hey, not if she bites you first," I said, shivering. "So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job.”

“And we're thinking ghost ship, right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either," I said, recalling the research I'd done on the drive here.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

“So, whatever's happening is just getting started," Sam concluded.

“What's the lore?” Dean asked.

“Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman–" Sam listed from what seemed like memory. "Almost all of them are death omens.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?”

“Basically.”

Dean shook his head. “What's the next step?”

“Gotta I.D. the boat.”

“That shouldn't be too hard," I said. "I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?”

“I checked that too, actually," Sam said. "Over one hundred and fifty.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow...shit."

We continued walking along the pier toward the parking lot when Dean suddenly stopped, looking up and down the row of cars and the single, empty parking space.

“This is where we parked the car, right?” Dean asked.

I held a hand over my eyes as I double checked the line of cars. “I thought so.”

Dean stepped into the empty space, his hands held out at his sides. “Where's my car?”

“Did you feed the meter?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I fed the meter! Where’s my car!?" He shouted, turning around. "Somebody stole my car!”

I quickly shushed him as he continued to look around frantically. Bystanders were starting to stare at his outburst. “Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Dea—"

“I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca—” Dean stopped, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, his face suddenly going ashen white.

“Whoa. Dean. Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy," Sam said, pulling him upright.

“The '67 Impala?" A familiar, British, voice said as it approached us. "Was that yours?”

The three of us turned toward the voice as we all groaned in unison, “Bela.”

Bela came to a stop in front of us. “I'm sorry. I had that car towed.”

“You what?!” Dean shouted at her.

She shrugged. “Well, it was in a tow-away zone.”

“No, it wasn't!”

“It was when I finished with it," she smirked.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“A little yachting.”

“You're Alex," Sam said, making Dean and I look up at him in confusion. "You're working with that old lady.”

Suddenly it all began to click. “Gert's a dear old friend.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, right. What's your angle?”

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats.”

“And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real," Dean said.

“The comfort I provide them is very real.”

Bela began to turn away from us and down toward the pier. “How do you sleep at night?” Sam called after her.

“On silk sheets, rolling naked in money," she said. I raised my eyebrows. "Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from them, but you?”

“You shot me!”

"I barely grazed you," she countered, as if it made it any better. "Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?”

“You do know what's going on around here. This ghost ship thing, it is real," Dean said.

“I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way.”

“It isn't.”

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers."

I laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. God forbid you do something good for someone once in a while."

Bela clenched her jaw before changing the subject, "Look...just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you...before they find the arsenal in the trunk. Ciao." We watched as Bela walked away, anger radiating off of the three of us.

“Can I shoot her?” Dean asked.

I sighed, nothing would make me happier. “Not in public.”

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

The second victim was a middle aged man who lived just a few houses down from Gert's. It was a large, modern home with an even larger gated fence surrounding it.

The three of us piled out of the Impala, where from here we could see Bela, talking to the victim in a fake American accent.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Warren. Now, if you could just tell me one more time about the ship your brother saw-"

I rolled my eyes as we approached, flashing her and the victim our badges. “Ma'am, I think this man's been through quite enough. You should go.”

“But I just have a few more questions-"

“No, you don't," Sam interjected.

Bela gave the victim a tight-lipped smile before glaring at us. “Thank you for your time.”

“Sorry you had to deal with that," I said to the victim before yelling over my shoulder to Bela. "They're like roaches!”

“So, we heard you say your brother saw a ship," Dean inquired, laying a hand on the man's shoulder as he steered him in the other direction.

“Yeah, that's right," he confirmed. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

“Did he tell you what it looked like?”

The man nodded, running the sleeve of his sweater under his nose. “It was, uh...like the old Yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “That's a lot of detail for a ship your brother saw.”

“My brother and I were night diving," he said. "I saw the ship, too.”

Sam, Dean and I shared a silent look. We may have just stumbled onto our next victim. Dean nodded. “Alright. Well, we'll be in touch.”

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

Back at the car, the three of us were loading our weapons a few blocks down from the crime scene.

“I see you got your car back," Bela said as she came up from behind.

“You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?” Dean asked.

“Now, now. Mind your blood pressure. Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat?"

I pumped the sawed off shotgun in my hand before throwing it down into the arsenal and shutting the trunk. “That guy back there saw the ship.”

Bela narrowed her eyes at me. “Yeah? And?”

“And, he's going to die, so we have to save him," Sam said this time.

Bela cooed. “Aww. How sweet.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at her utter lack of empathy. “You think this is funny?”

“He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You're unbelievable."

Sam, Dean and I rounded the car, each of us opening our doors when Dean spoke up, “Yeah, well, see, we have souls, so...we're gonna try.”

“Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun.”

Dean looked to Sam and I, almost in disbelief. “Hey, Bela, how'd you get like this, huh? What, did daddy not give you enough hugs or something?”

“I don't know. Your daddy give you enough?" She asked, matching his deadly glare. "Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're no better than I am.”

“We help people," Dean said.

Bela nearly laughed. “Come on. You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me – which is healthier?”

“Bela, why don't you just leave? We've got work to do," Sam said.

“Yeah. You're 0 for 2," she said, looking at him now. "Bang-up job so far.”

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

It was well past sunset as we watched who we thought was going to be the next victim, the same guy who just lost his brother not 24 hours ago, Peter Warren.

From our parking spot, hidden in the dark across from Peter's brother's house, we could see him maneuvering around inside. I glanced back over to Sam who was shuffling through Peter and his brother, Howard's, records.

“Anything good?” I asked, rotating the straw around the slushie I begged Dean to buy me by the pier.

"Could you be any louder with that," Dean asked, annoyed.

"Can you be any louder with that," I mocked.

Sam shook his head, ignoring us. “No, not really. I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads. No criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago.”

“How much?”

“$112 million.”

Dean whistled. “Nice life.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I mean, nice, clean, aboveboard. So why did they see the ship? Why Sheila, too? What do they all have in common?”

I shrugged, shaking the shaved ice again, mostly to annoy Dean. “Maybe nothing.”

Sam continued squinting at the papers. “No. There's always something.”

“Hey, you!” A voice suddenly yelled from outside the house. We snapped our necks upward to Peter who was walking angrily toward the car.

“I think we've been made," Dean said as we all slipped out.

“What are you guys doing?! You watching me?!” Peter shouted from across the driveway.

“Sir, calm down. Please-" Sam tried, but Peter only cut him off.

“You guys aren't cops! Not dressed like that. Not– not in that crappy car!"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. “Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty.”

“We are cops, okay? We're undercover. We're here because we think you're in danger," I said.

“From who?!”

“If you just settle down, we'll talk about it.”

Peter shook his head, not believing a word. He began to slowly back up toward the house. “Look, you guys just stay away from me!” Then, Peter took off running toward his car that was parked in front of the house before he peeled away from the driveway.

“Wait!” Sam called after him.

“Hey, you moron! We're trying to help you!” Dean shouted as Peter's car stalled just in front of the gated fence.

“That can't be good," I said.

“No," Sam agreed. "Get the salt gun.”

I ran back toward the Impala, quickly grabbing the shotgun as I ran back toward the car that Sam and Dean were just coming to a stop by. They were pounding on the window, trying to get Peter to open the door, to no avail.

“Peter!”

I slid to a stop beside the passenger side where a spirit was sitting shotgun. He was drenched, with long dark hair covering half of his face. His skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. Peter was in the driver's seat, water spewing from his mouth in an endless waterfall.

“Get down!” I shouted to Sam and Dean who turned away from the car before I fired a round through the window, effectively making the spirit disappear and shattering both the passenger and driver side windows.

I peered inside where Peter was now slumped against the steering wheel. Dean knocked the rest of the glass away and unlocked the car door from the inside. Sam pulled Peter back against the seat, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. A single stream of water was traveling from his open mouth down to his shirt collar. Sam quickly felt around Peter's throat for a pulse, but shook his head at Dean and I when he came back with nothing.

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

Dean's POV

The car ride back to the house we were squatting in was silent as Ellie slept in the backseat. The only noise came from the weather announcement over the radio: “...when what started out as a severe weather front headed in from the Northwest. Expect heavy lightning and thunder, with sudden rainfall—”

I quickly shut it off, looking over at Sam who hadn't said as much as three words since we left Peter's house. “Do you wanna say it or should I?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“You can't save everybody, Sam.”

Sam looked over at me, slightly puzzled. “Yeah, right, so– so what, you feel better now or something?”

I sighed, looking back to the road. “No, not really.”

“Me neither.”

I tapped my thumbs against the wheel, trying to find the right words to say. “You gotta understa—”

“It’s just lately, I feel like I can't save anybody," Sam blurted. I let my eyes linger on him a second longer before going back to the road, shaking my head softly. I looked up through the rearview mirror at Ellie, curled against the back door. I wanted so badly to be able to tell them both how close I felt I was to figuring all this out. But, I knew I couldn't. Not yet. Not until the deal was done.

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

I had a plan in place. I needed to summon another demon, find out who the hell holds Ellie's contract. If all went well, I'd kill the son of a bitch. If not, I still had the option of offering myself up.

I thought about this as I mindlessly scrolled through my phone, trying to act like I was busy. My eyes wandered over to Ellie who was sprawled across an arm chair, her legs dangling over one side, her eyes closed with her headphones on. I automatically knew one thing, looking at her: there was nothing that was going to keep me from saving her.

A pounding at the door of the house we were squatting in made the three of us quickly straighten up. Ellie pulled her headphones off, letting them dangle around her neck where I could hear Walk This Way by Aerosmith blaring from them. Sam looked to us from where he was sitting at a small table littered with lore books.

I snapped my phone shut as I made my way toward the door, my hand on my gun as I looked through the peephole before sighing and pulling the door open for Bela. Sam and Ellie visibly relaxed.

Bela scrunched up her face as she came inside, looking around at the dingy surrounds. “Dear...god. Are you actually squatting? Charming." She came deeper into the room, stopping in front of the table Sam was at. "So how'd things go last night with Peter?”

Sam and Ellie continued to glare at her before Ellie placed her headphones back over her head. Bela turned to me. “That well, huh?”

“If you say 'I told you so', I swear to god I'll start swinging," I warned, sitting down beside Sam.

“Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart.”

“That's assuming that you have a heart.”

Bela dropped her hands to her sides. “Dean, please...I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts.”

“Such as?” Sam questioned.

Bela pulled out a black zip-up folder. “I've ID'd the ship.”

I watched her, trying to decipher whether or not she was bluffing, but the look on her face told me otherwise. I ran my tongue over my teeth before turning toward Ellie, motioning her forward. She groaned, rolling off the chair and throwing her iPod to the side.

Bela smirked, seeming satisfied as Ellie plopped down in the chair opposite me. Bela dropped the folder onto the table, handing us each pictures of the same ship. "It's the Espírito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel, quite a colorful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37."

"Which would explain the 37 year cycle," Sam said, mainly to himself.

"Aren't you a sharp tack," Bela said before rifling through the rest of the photos. "There's a photo of him somewhere...here."

Bela handed me a black and white picture with two men. I squinted at the guy closest to the camera, turning it to Sam and Ellie. "Isn't that the customer we saw last night?"

"You saw him?" Bela asked.

Ellie nodded. "Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand."

"His right hand?"

Sam squinted up at Bela. "How'd you know?"

"The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory."

"A hand of glory?" I smirked. "I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week."

The three of them shot me a confused look before Sam spoke up, "Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful."

"So they say," Bela said.

"And officially counts as remains," Ellie chimed in. “But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims.”

Bela began gathering all of the pictures back into the folder. “I'll tell you why. Who cares? Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.”

I watched as she zipped up the folder. “I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?”

“Because I know exactly where the hand is.”

I raised my eyebrows, looking to Sam and Ellie and then back to Bela, wondering what the hell we were sitting around for. “Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history, owned by one of the wealthiest families in the East, the Bransons. But I need help.”

I knew there was going to be a fucking catch. I groaned. “What kind of help?”

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

Ellie's POV

"This is awful...it's awful," I said to myself as I looked up and down the dirty mirror in one of the abandoned bedrooms on the second floor of the house. Bela failed to mention we were going to be going to a black tie event where we actually had to look presentable.

The dress itself was beautiful. A red, satin number with thin straps and defined waist line. It reached down about mid-calf, showing off the heels Bela told me I needed to wear, especially to an event like this. The dress was originally hers, but said it made her feel more like a hooker than anything so she was more than happy to let me wear it for the night. However, with me in it, I felt like I looked like a linebacker dressing up for Halloween.

I turned each way in the mirror, trying to see it from every angle. I messed with my hair numerous times before groaning and letting it fall in thick waves past my shoulders. I leaned in closer to my reflection, examining the makeup I desperately tried to do with what little I had.

"El, you ready yet?" Dean's voice called from down the hallway, Sam's footsteps not far behind as they came into the room before stopping. They were both half dressed in their tuxes, Dean trying to tie his tie and Sam buttoning his sleeves. For a split second as I watched them, I could see their eyes soften.

Sam smiled. "You look-"

"Yeah, yeah, get it out," I said, putting my hands on my hips. "C'mon, I can take it."

"No, you just..." Sam hesitated and for a second, I was worried it was worse than I thought. "You look beautiful, El."

I shifted on my feet. "Really?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Which was exactly what I was worried about. We've gotta get this dead guy's hand and I have to make sure you're not sneaking off with some guy or girl-"

"Shut up," I laughed, grabbing the rest of my things.

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

Dean's POV

“What is taking so long?" Bela yelled from downstairs. "Ellie and Sam have been there for nearly an hour...with Sam's date."

“I am so not okay with this!” I yelled back, twisting the suit back and forth.

“What are you, a woman? Come down already!"

I groaned, making my way down the stairs. Bela instantly straightened up. She didn't look half bad for the raging bitch I knew she was. Her black dress was low cut and fell just above her knees. She wore a shining diamond necklace and her hair was in a low bun. I came to a stop in front of her. “I look ridiculous.”

Bela shrugged, looking me up and down. “Not exactly the word I'd use.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, waiting for the punchline. “What?”

“You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex.”

I blinked twice, not sure I heard her correctly, but she continued to watch me, pointedly. I scoffed, stunned and unsure of what to say. I awkwardly crossed my arms, trying to remind myself that this was the same woman who got my car towed not 48 hours ago. “Don't objectify me. Let’s go.” I walked ahead of her, smirking, unable to hide my excitement.

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

The Sea Pines Museum was much bigger than I could've imagined. I glanced up at the stone walls, water fountains, and acre upon acre of land the place was settled on.

Bela wrapped her arm around mine as we entered through the front doors. She passed the invitation to the party over to the man standing behind a podium by the entrance. He glanced at it, checking it against his list before nodding, inviting us in.

The place was crawling with old white guys with money and their incredibly young wives. Waiters weaved their way slowly through the crowd with trays of champagne and little foods on tiny plates.

“Are you chewing gum?" Bela asked me suddenly before we could even make it into the main room. I stopped chewing as she glared at me. "Try to behave as if you've lived this life before, yeah?”

I turned in a half circle, looking for a trashcan when a large water fountain caught my eye. I took out my gum, sticking it to the underside of the base of the fountain. I turned back, giving Bela two thumbs up, making her close her eyes and shake her head before leading me further into the crowd.

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

Sam’s POV

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet where I stood in a secluded corner with Gert, scanning the crowd for any sign of Dean, or Ellie who'd run off to the bathroom nearly half an hour ago.

“This'll get their tongues wagging, eh, my Adonis?” Gert said, smiling widely up at me as she gripped my suit jacket in a tight fist.

I gave her my best fake smile. “Just remember, we're on business.”

“Ooooh, but sometimes business can be pleasure, hmm?” She said, running her hand up the middle of my back

I quickly pulled away, taking her hands in mine once I saw Dean and Bela enter the room, heading toward the bar Ellie was leaning up against. “You know, uh, could you excuse me for a moment?”

Gert smiled playfully. "Of course."

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

Ellie's POV

I leaned up against the open bar, downing a glass of champagne as Dean and Bela came toward me. “Nice monkey suit.”

“You clean up well,” Bela said as she sat at the bar next to me.

I wrinkled my nose, glancing from her to Dean. “Did she just say something not insulting to me?”

“I’m feeling generous tonight,” she said before smirking up at Dean, taking a sip from her glass.

My eyes bounced between them, realization settling in. “Oh, gross. You’re kidding me! With Bela?!”

“Shut up,” Dean groaned, taking a long drink.

Sam came up from behind Dean. “Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?”

I smirked as I looked around him to Gert. “She’s hot, Sammy.”

“As long as it takes,” Bela said, Sam shooting me a glare.

“Look, there’s security all over this place. This is an un-crashable party without Gert’s invitation, so-”

“We can crash anything, Dean,” Sam said through ground teeth.

“Yeah I know, but this is easier and a lot more entertaining,” Dean smiled, raising his eyebrows in excitement.

“You know there are limits to what I’ll do, right?”

“Aww, he’s playing hard to get,” Dean said, making Bela and I laugh. “That’s cute.”

Dean and Bela made their way across the room and Sam lingered before Gert motioned him toward her. He glanced back at me. “Save me.”

“Sam, it’s not polite to leave a girl waiting,” I said, suppressing my laughter. Sam rolled his eyes nearly to the back of his head before grabbing my glass of champagne out of my hand, throwing it back before meeting Gert in the middle of the floor.

I leaned back against the bar, laughing. This was the easiest case I ever worked. I was just watching Sam awkwardly talk with Gert when a soft hand landed on my shoulder. I whipped around where a tall, dark haired man threw his hands up as if to prove he wasn’t a threat. He smiled widely, showing his white, perfect, teeth. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I quickly swallowed, blinking twice before blindly setting the glass behind me, nearly dropping it to the floor. The corners of his mouth upturned slightly, watching me struggle.

“You- you didn’t.”

He nodded once, motioning to the stool next to me. “This seat taken?”

“All yours.”

He sat down, swirling the drink in his glass. I could see him from my peripherals, his dark blue eyes glancing over to me every few seconds before he finally spoke, “You come to these often?”

“No…first time, actually.”

“Yeah?" He scanned the room. "Sorry to disappoint, they’re not all they’re made out to be."

“Yeah…music’s not that great, but the company is,” I said, a swell of confidence rolling through me. He gave me a half smile as he nodded, his curly hair bouncing. I bit my lip, thinking of anything to say to get whatever this was moving along. “You wanna dance?”

A smile broke out over his face. “Hell yeah I do.”

I laughed, dragging him out to the floor, the slow music swaying us. He held one hand on my lower back, holding me against him. Our other hands interlocked next to us. I felt my heart rate pick up as I looked up at him, now so close I could smell the champagne on his breath mixed with the cologne on his suit collar.

He spun me around, making me smile before he pulled me back into him, my chest flush against his. I looked up at him, our faces only inches from each other. My eyes darted from his eyes down to his lips and then back up to his eyes before carefully leaning in, our lips just barely grazing. We stayed like this for what felt like forever before I pushed forward completely.

He brought his large hand up to my cheek, bringing it under my hair to the back of my neck. Then, he pulled away, my lips still slightly pursed before prying my eyes open. I could feel the way his breathing picked up against my own abdomen. I scanned his face. “You wanna take this somewhere else?”

He beamed, nodding. “Follow me.”

He took my hand, leading me toward the entryway where there was a grand staircase against the wall, two guards standing in front of it. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused as to where he was taking me when the guards nodded to him without another word, parting and letting us up the stairs.

I widened my eyes. “Who are you?”

He looked back at me. “I should’ve introduced myself, I’m sorry…my name’s Oliver. Oliver Branson.”

I wracked my brain, I knew that name from somewhere when suddenly it hit me. “Like…Branson, Branson? Your family, they-”

“Yeah,” he said as we made it to the second floor. “They own this place.”

“Right,” I said, giddiness rising up in my chest as he led me down a long hallway and into a secluded room, shutting and locking the large door behind me.

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

Dean's POV

After Bela and I made an initial sweep around the first floor of the museum, we found ourselves back at the entryway. Bela whispered to me. "Private security?"

"I don't think so," I said, glancing at the security guards posted around the room. Two in front of a large staircase, and another by the front door. "Look at the way they're standing. They're pros. Probably state troopers moonlighting."

"Posted to every door, too."

I nodded. "Yeah, I don't think we're just going to be able to waltz upstairs."

Bela looked up at me. "What do you suggest?"

"I'm thinking."

"Don't strain yourself," she said, making me glare at her. "Interesting how the legend is so much more than the man."

"You got any bright ideas, I'm all ears."

"Okay," she said before suddenly falling backwards into my arms, her eyes rolling back into her head.

"Honey? Honey, are you alright?" I improvised, slowly lowering her to the ground. I looked around the room. "Waiter!" The waiter just a few feet away abandoned the couple he was serving, quickly coming to me. "Hi. My wife has a severe shellfish allergy. There's no crab in that? Is there?"

The waiter looked down at the tray he was holding. "No, sir."

"No?" I said, before grabbing one and popping the whole thing into my mouth. "Oh they're excellent, by the way."

"What seems to be the trouble?" One of the guards asked, coming up once the waiter had left.

"Ah...champagne!" I dismissed quickly, silently cursing Bela for making me have to think so quick on my feet. "My wife, she's a lightweight when it comes to the sauce. Is there somewhere I can lay her down till she gets her sea legs back?"

The guard thought for a second before nodding. "Follow me."

"Right. Thank you," I said, picking Bela up off the floor. "Come on, you lush."

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

Sam's POV

Gert and I swayed slowly to the music coming from the live orchestra. I continued to try to remind myself that all Dean had to do was find the goddamned hand and we'd be out of here.

"Where's Alex and your friend? They're missing a great party," Gert asked.

"I'm sure they’re entertaining themselves."

"Oooh, naughty. Then I guess we'll just have to entertain ourselves as well." Gert's hand on my back began to travel lower and lower. I quickly pulled away, grimacing as I took her hand in mine.

"Whoa, uh…ha, y-you know, Mrs. Case," I stumbled before correcting myself after the look she gave me. "I— I'm sorry, Ms. Case...I don't wanna give you the wrong idea."

"Call me Gert." She laid her head on my chest. "You remind me of my late husband...he was shy too...'til we got below deck."

Her hand whipped out from between us and squeezed my ass again. I jumped away, "Whoa!"

"Mmmm, you're just firm all over," Gert smiled, running her hands over my shoulders. I laughed uncomfortably, desperately scanning the room for any sign of Ellie or Dean.

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

Ellie's POV

I quickly pulled Oliver toward me, my hands running over the smooth skin on his cheeks. I deepened the kiss, feeling his tongue swipe over my bottom lip before I fully opened it, our tongues dancing together. His lips moved from mine, kissing down my jaw, my neck, all the way to my collarbone and just above the material of my dress.

Oliver pulled away, looking down at me as he slowly began to slide down to the floor, his hands locked on either side of my body. I watched as he slid his hands under the material of my dress before his head disappeared beneath it. I let out a breath, the back of my head hitting the door as I laced my fingers through his hair.

I felt his hand go under my right leg, hiking it up and over his shoulder as he pulled my underwear to the side, licking a long stripe from the base of my vagina all the way up to my clit.

"Oliver," I breathed out.

His hands traveled back up to cup my ass, bringing my hips closer to his face. His lips were tight around my clit, sucking and pulling at it before pulling away. "I love when you say my name. Say it again."

"Oliver," I moaned again as he reattached his lips. My grip on his shoulders tightened just before he came up for air. He smiled down at me as he stood, his hair disheveled as he leaned down to kiss me, planting the palms of his hands on either side of my head against the door. My breathing quickened as he hooked two fingers over the straps of the dress, pulling it down and letting the material fall from my body.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, his hands pulling my hips closer to him as he kissed down to my now bare breasts, taking one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it. I panted, grasping the short hairs on the nape of his neck before pulling him back up to my mouth.

His lips crashed back into mine as he walked me backward, gently laying me across the couch in the middle of the room, his knee slotting right between my legs. I ground down on his thigh, moaning at the friction. I brought my hands under his suit jacket, quickly pushing it off of his broad shoulders and making quick working of his white button down. His skin warm against mine. I pulled him close to my bare chest, my nails scratching up and down his skin.

And that was when we heard it: the unmistakable sound of the door handle shaking. Oliver and I quickly sat up, looking toward the door. Oliver swiftly shed his jacket, laying it over me.

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

Dean's POV

I followed the guard up the stairs and down a long hallway to a large set of double doors. The guard jiggled the handle, but the door was locked from the inside. The guard made a face, knocking. "Anyone in there?"

"Just me, sir," a voice called from the other side, followed by something falling inside the room.

The guard straightened up, "Pardon me, Mr. Branson. Is everything alright?"

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

Ellie's POV

"Yes, sir," Oliver called, wincing at the lamp that he'd knocked over when his foot got caught in the cord. "Everything's fine."

We waited a second, the two of us holding our breath before we heard two sets of feet leading away from the door.

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

Dean's POV

The guard seemed unsure, but had no choice but to turn around and take us to a room across the hall. I plopped Bela down onto a leather couch in the bedroom once the guard opened the door. I sighed, shaking my head at him. "You think she's a pain in the ass now, try living with her." I walked the guard to the door, closing it behind him. "Thank you very much."

I turned to Bela who was sitting up on the couch. I whispered angrily to her, "Hey maybe next time give me a little heads up with your plan?"

"I didn't want you thinking. You're not very good at that," she said. I scoured my brain for something to shoot back at her, but came up with nothing. "Oh, look at you. Searching for a witty rejoinder."

"Screw you."

"Very Oscar Wilde," she said. I shook my head, ready to get this hand and get the hell out of this place. "Room 235. It's in a locked glass case wired for alarm, I'm sure that won't be a problem."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," I mocked, rolling my eyes.

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

Ellie's POV

Once we knew we were finally alone, Oliver and I burst out laughing. He dropped his head onto my shoulder, his hair tickling my face as his shoulders shook.

"Sorry about your lamp," I laughed, wiping tears from my face.

He looked up, tears brimming his eyes as he looked back at the lamp behind him, laughing even harder, "That thing was- was so ugly."

I laughed, shaking my head as I laid an arm behind my head on the couch's arm rest. Oliver bit his lip, leaning in to kiss me again. I gripped the short hairs on the back of his neck, pulling his jacket from off of me.

“Need you,” I panted into his mouth. “Please.”

He smirked, the two of us making quick work of his belt before he shed his pants to the ground along with the other articles of clothing. I felt his hardened cock against my thigh as he dipped down for another kiss, his hands tangling through my hair.

I palmed his erection, eliciting a groan from him before reaching inside his boxers. The sight of his cock sent immediate warmth down to my center, my knees tightening around his middle.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He asked. I nodded quickly as he inched down, tearing my underwear off my hips. He leaned forward again, the tip of his leaking cock pressing up against my clit. I let out a moan, gripping his shoulders as he teased my entrance before slowly pressing inside.

I let out a breath as he bottomed out and he didn’t waste any time thrusting into me at a slow pace. A high pitched noise left me. “Harder…please, god, harder.”

Oliver smiled as he picked up the pace, lifting my hips as he slammed harder into me. “So fucking tight, Ellie,” he groaned. “God you feel so good.”

I couldn't speak, sweat breaking out over every inch of my body when I felt Oliver twitch inside me. I knew he was close. Oliver leaned down, taking my nipple into his mouth again before bring his thumb over my clit, rubbing at it expertly.

“I’m gonna cum,” I muttered, my nails scratching over his back.

“Cum for me, Ellie,” he groaned and, in an instant, I was unravelling under him, my orgasm ripping through my body. I moaned loudly, bucking my hips upward. I watched as Oliver thrusted a few more times before quickly pulling out, ropes of cum painting my stomach and thighs.

“Fuck,” I panted. He looked around, grabbing a box of tissues, cleaning me up. He leaned in again, pecking my lips before I sat up, pushing my disheveled hair from my sweaty forehead. I snatched my underwear from the ground, sliding them back on before throwing my dress over my head. I watched as he got dressed too, smirking.

“What?” he asked, smiling as he buttoned his shirt.

“It’s just…it’s just been a while, that’s all.”

He nodded. “Me too.”

I nodded one more time, resisting the urge to kiss him again as I stood, making my way toward the large doors. “I need to get back downstairs.”

“What do you say we do this again,” he offered, a hopeful look in his eyes. “A proper date next time. Dinner, a movie…the whole thing.”

My smile fell. No matter how much I wished for this to go on longer, I knew it couldn't. “I wish I could, but I’m not exactly from here. I won’t be around for long.”

His face fell, but he nodded understandingly. “Where are you from, then?”

“Here, there,” I said vaguely. “Everywhere.”

“Ah,” Oliver smirked but I could sense a hint of sadness in his voice. “Well, whenever you’re back from…everywhere…come and see me sometime.”

My fingers drummed against the wooden door. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“See ya, Ellie.”

I smiled before slipping out of the room, resting my back against the door as I closed it behind me. I let out a long breath, smiling despite myself. I turned to return down the staircase when I noticed a door at the other end of the hall, its large wooden doors with ornate detailing staring back at me. It looked important and I suddenly remembered why we were here in the first place. I glanced from the door I’d just come through and down the stairs where the guards seemed too preoccupied with guarding them that they didn’t seem to care about two kids upstairs.

I let my curiosity get the better of me, crossing the hallway and pushing the door open with the flat of my hand as I snuck inside, closing it behind me. Then, there, in the middle of the room secured in a glass case, was the hand.

I stepped closer, eyeing it when a door adjacent to the one I came in opened. I nearly ducked down but stopped when I realized it was Dean. I furrowed my brow. “What’re you doing here?”

Dean stopped in his tracks. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m getting the hand,” I said, gesturing to it. “Remember?”

Dean nodded slowly. “How’d you get up here?”

I hesitated, nervously tugging the ends of my dress as he stepped closer, examining my face. “I could…ask you the same thing?”

Dean's eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“Dean, first I’d like to point out that I’m twenty two years old-”

“Oh god,” Dean said, his face going ashen white, bringing a fist over his mouth. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me…”

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the fireplace, noticing my tousled hair and smudged makeup. I grimaced at the sight, knowing there really wasn’t a way out of this one. “I’m a big girl, Dean-”

“Don’t,” he warned, holding a hand out, his eyes closed. “Who was it? Huh? One of those guards? Christ I’m gonna kill him. I don’t care who it is, I’m gonna kill him!"

“Dean,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re being ridiculous. And it wasn’t a guard…it- it was the museum owner’s son.”

Dean’s eyes became even bigger. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Lets just get this thing and get out of here, alright!?” I nearly shouted, wanting to be over with this already.

Dean shook his head, kneeling beside the case, muttering something to himself about murder as he picked the lock to the security system.

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

Dean's POV

I continued to fight off the murderous rage I felt rolling through me in waves as I made my way back to the room Bela was in. I rounded the corner, roughly bumping into the guard who'd let us upstairs.

"Whoa. Sorry!" I apologized, gesturing behind me. "It's, uh...nature called."

"Ah huh," the guard said slowly, glancing back at the door.

"Thanks for looking after my wife."

The guard nodded once. "Oh, she's...being looked after, alright."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I snuck back into the guest room where Bela was pulling up the sleeves of her dress back over her shoulder. "Any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she said. I pulled the hand from inside my suit jacket. "The hand? May I?"

I turned away from Bela's outstretched hands. "No."

"It might be more inconspicuous in my purse-"

"Nice try," I said, wrapping it in a handkerchief.

"Just trying to be helpful."

"Well, sweetheart," I said, opening the door for her. "I don't need your kind of help."

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

Sam's POV

At one point, I swore the night would never end. My feet were aching as Gert and I continued to dance to a song that seemed like it'd been going on for hours. Gert's head was resting against my chest, an empty champagne glass dangling from her fingers around the back of my neck.

"Man, this is one long song," I muttered.

"I hope it never ends," she giggled. "How's the investigation going?"

"These things take time," I said shortly.

"People are talking about the Warren brothers’ deaths," she said, looking up at me. "Strange...Do you think it’s connected to Shelia's?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we think so."

"I think they had it coming, you know. In a Biblical sort of way."

I furrowed my eyebrows at her words as she leaned back against my chest. "What do you mean?"

She slowly looked back up at me, "You know about their father?"

"No?"

"Come here, I'll whisper it to you," she said and before I could protest, she had her hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me toward her. "People say that the old man didn't die of natural causes."

"Then how?" I grimaced.

"Rumor is the boys did it. Nothing was ever proved, but...people still whisper."

"Okay, okay, okay," I said, quickly pulling away. I was beginning to feel like I was making at least some progress on the case and not just making a fool out of myself. "So did Sheila have any connection to them?"

"Well, none that I know of."

"Did Sheila have any kind of tragedy in her life?"

Gert paused, thinking about it before her eyes got large, "Yes. As a matter of fact there was...a car accident when she was a teenager."

"What happened?"

"Her car flipped over. She was okay but her cousin Brian was killed. Why, is that important?"

Yeah, Gert. It was real fucking important.

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

Ellie's POV

I descended the staircase, closely following Dean and Bela back into the museum's front room where Sam was still slow dancing with Gert. He physically relaxed in relief when he saw us. Bela beamed, "Well! Having a nice time?"

"He's delightful!" Gert smiled widely, cutting her voice down to a whisper for me and Bela. "He wants me!"

Dean and I raised our eyebrows, looking accusatorily at Sam. Bela veered Gert away and toward the front door, whispering to us behind her back, "I'm going to get Gert into a cold shower."

Sam nodded. "Great idea."

"See you at the cemetery."

We watched as Bela and Gert disappeared out the front door. Dean turned to Sam and I. "You stink like sex. Both of you, it's disgusting."

Sam looked at me, puzzled when, from over Sam's shoulder, Oliver caught my gaze.

“That him?” Dean whispered, following my line of sight and spotting Oliver from across the room.

“Nope, nope, lets go,” I said, nearly pushing him out the door but Dean was much stronger and much bigger than I was. He easily stepped from my grasp, walking up to Oliver. “Oh, god.”

"Where's he going?" Sam asked, confused.

"Go! Go!" I said to Sam, pushing him toward Dean who he could tell wasn't just going for a friendly chat.

“Hey, you’re Oliver, yeah?” Dean asked.

“Yeah-” Oliver began when Dean tried to swing a fist but Sam grabbed his arm before he could collide it with Oliver's face. Oliver quickly ducked backward, watching with wide eyes as Sam and I pulled him from the museum.

“You better sleep with one eye open, buddy!” Dean shouted as we dragged him out the front door, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. “One eye!”

“Bye Oliver!” I shouted over Dean’s words, quickly slamming the front door behind us. Once we were outside, we ran to the car, Sam and Dean quickly shedding their bow ties.

"Are you fucking crazy, Dean!?" I shouted at him as soon as I got the chance.

"What?" Dean asked defensively as we slid into the car.

I shook my head. "You're on my shit list now."

"You got it, right?" Sam asked Dean, ignoring our argument. "Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing."

"I got it..." Dean said, pulling it from his jacket.

I scrunched my face up at Sam's words. "Mrs. Who?"

"Nevermind. Just let me see it."

I leaned between them, watching as Dean unfolded the handkerchief, but paused. Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "What?"

Dean pulled the object up into the dim lighting, but it wasn't the hand that was in the case upstairs. It was a small model ship inside a bottle. Dean's eyes filled with rage as he gripped it. "I'm gonna kill her."

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

"You know what, you’re right," Dean said, staring into the fireplace, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go."

Sam was flipping through a book. "Dean, look, you gotta relax."

"Relax! Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax," Dean said sarcastically before shouting, "I can't believe she got another one over on us!"

A beat of silence passed before I spoke, "You."

Dean narrowed his eyes at me. "What?"

I looked from him to Sam and then back to Dean. "I...I mean, she got one over...on you...not us."

Dean looked like he could strangle me. "Thank you, Ellie! Very helpful."

A loud banging came from the front door of the house, making Sam, Dean and I whip our heads toward it. Bela's voice calling out frantically from the other side, "Hello? Could you open up?"

Dean quickly made his way to the door, pulling it open. Bela looked at the three of us, and for the first time, I could've sworn she looked scared. "Just let me explain."

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

"I sold it," Bela admitted after dancing around all of our questions about the hand she stole from us. Dean glanced up at Sam and I from where he stood behind Bela. "I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed."

Dean grit his teeth as he walked around behind her chair, mimicking pulling a trigger at the back of her head. Sam was leaning up against the fireplace, his arms crossed. "So the whole reason for us going to the charity ball was...?"

"I needed a cover," she said simply. "You were convenient." It made sense. She was always just using us for one thing or another. As long as it was getting her what she wanted, she didn't care about anybody else.

"Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back," I said, although I was sure it wouldn't be as simple as that.

"It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time."

Dean watched her. "In time for what?"

We waited, expectant of an answer, but Bela stayed silent. I scanned her face, they way she wouldn't meet any of our eyes. She hadn't even made one smartass comment since she's been here. "What's going on with you, Bela? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She worried her bottom lip before speaking, "I saw the ship." Sam, Dean and I shared a shocked look. I stood up straighter, shaking my head at the realization.

"You what?" Dean said, stalking towards her. "Wow, you know, I– I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower—"

Bela looked up at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"We figured out the spirit’s motive," Sam said this time, pulling out an old photo from our research. "This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy."

"So?"

"So they were brothers," I said, making Bela's eyes dart to mine. "Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood." My words made her shift uneasily, not tearing her gaze off the photograph. "See, first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. And now you."

"Oh my god," she muttered under her breath, putting her head in her hands.

Dean leaned down beside her, planting an arm on the back of her chair and the other on the table in front of her, cornering Bela. "So who was it? Hmm? Who'd you kill? Was it daddy? Your little sis, maybe?"

"It's none of your business," she said quietly.

"No? Right. Well, have a nice life – you know, whatever’s left of it," Dean said, clapping her on the back as he began to gather his things. "Sam, Ellie, let’s go."

I followed behind Dean, unzipping my duffel bag and throwing my clothes inside. Bela stood quickly from the table. "You can't just leave me here."

"Watch us," I said over my shoulder, shoving my iPod into my pocket.

"Please," she began to beg, looking mainly to Sam who hadn't moved to grab his things yet. "I need your help."

Dean raised his eyebrows, throwing his duffel back onto the couch in disbelief. "Our help? Now how could a couple of serial killers possibly help you?"

She sighed in exasperation. "Okay, that was a bit harsh, I admit it, but it doesn't warrant a death sentence."

"That's not why you’re gonna die," Sam said, studying her. "What'd you do, Bela?" Bela was silent again before she shook her head. I could tell, just by looking at her that whatever the hell she did...she wasn't quite over it yet.

"You wouldn't understand. No one did," she whispered, shaking her head. "Never mind. I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself."

"You do realize you just sold the one thing that could save your life," I said.

"I'm aware."

"Well..." Sam interjected. "Maybe not the only thing." Dean and I looked over to Sam who was staring down at a lore book in front of us, the pages open to a ritual. Bela's expression changed immediately to something resembling hope.

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

Our plan was a longshot, but it was something, and if Bela knew what was good for her she'd take something over nothing. Dean, Bela and I watched Sam as he lit the last candle surrounding a pentagram on a concrete bench in the middle of the cemetery the captain of our ghost ship and his brother were buried in. I glanced up at the sky, noticing how the rain clouds were so dark you could hardly make out the moon shining just behind them.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Bela asked, tightening her jacket around herself as it began to trickle rain.

"Almost definitely not," Dean retorted. A clap of thunder came overhead just as it began to downpour. I quickly zipped my jacket up, looking around the cemetery for any signs of our ghost friend.

"Sammy," I called to him, my hair and clothes already gluing to my body. "You better start reading."

Sam opened up dad's journal, reciting the Latin incantation. Dean and I stood on either side of Bela, shotguns held at the ready as we kept an eye out in every direction. The wind began to pick up, whipping the rain in every direction so hard it was difficult to see. The raindrops felt like tiny shards of glass smacking our exposed skin. The flames from the candles quickly blew out one by one as Sam read louder over the roaring winds.

"Behind you!" Bela shouted to Dean. I whipped around and sure enough, the same spirit who'd been in Peter Warren's car was standing inches behind Dean. Before I could even bring my gun up to blast him away, he grabbed Dean by his jacket and tossed him halfway across the cemetery like he was a ragdoll. Dean's shotgun went off just before he landed hard on the ground.

I shot a round into the spirit, effectively making him disappear for only a second before returning, this time, so close to my face I could see his lifeless eyes. The spirit grabbed me by the shoulders, pushing me backwards with so much force I slid across the wet grass, my back forcefully colliding with a tombstone. I sat up on my side, pushing up on the wet earth as I watched the spirit reach out to Bela, gently cupping her face right before she doubled over, water spewing violently from her mouth.

I climbed to my feet, Dean making it back to Bela before I did. We both dropped down beside her as she fell to her knees, gripping the ground in her fists as she tried to expel the excessive amounts of water that only seemed to be coming faster and faster out of her mouth. Dean pulled her close to him as she choked. I laid a hand on her back, looking over to Sam whose eyes were bouncing between the journal and the spirit ahead of us. "Sammy, read faster!" Sam nodded, reciting the incantation even faster, the rain coming down harder.

"Keep her upright! Don't let her fall forward!" I yelled to him as he shifted Bela upward more. The rain continued to fall for what felt like hours before suddenly, it stopped all together. I looked up at the sky, watching as the storm clouds quickly disappeared. I looked down at Bela who continued to cough, but there was no more water coming from her mouth.

"You..." a low, snarling voice came from ahead of us. I looked up to where the spirit had turned, looking to a much younger man. His brother. "You hanged me!"

"I'm sorry," he pleaded.

"Your own brother."

"I'm so sorry!" The spirit said again, but it wasn't enough. His brother ran forward, slicing through his body with his own, water exploding from the two of them where they connected until all that was left was a large puddle that dropped to the already flooded grass.

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

It felt good knowing things in this town were finally put to rest. I pulled down the towel atop my head drying my hair, throwing it over the couch as I collected my clothes to throw in my duffle. I sat down beside Dean, picking up my boot from the night before and dumping the water out of it, shaking my head.

"You three should learn to lock your doors," Bela said as she let herself in to the abandoned house. "Anyone could just barge in."

"Anyone just did," I murmured, cringing as I slid my still-soaked boots back on. "Did you come to say goodbye or thank you?"

"I've come to settle affairs. Giving the spirit what he really wanted, his own brother– very clever, Sam. So here." She tossed each of us a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band. "It's ten thousand– that should cover it. I don't like being in anyone’s debt."

"So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?" Dean questioned, making Bela smirk. Dean shook his head. "You're so damaged."

"Takes one to know one," she said. "Goodbye lads."

We watched as Bela left without another word, slamming the front door behind her. Sam looked to us, "She's got style. You gotta give her that."

"I suppose."

"You know, we don't know where this money's been," I pointed out.

"No," Dean agreed with a smirk, snatching the money from mine and Sam's hands, "but I know where it's going."

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

"Seriously? Atlantic City?" Sam said from the passenger seat, looking down at the map Dean marked up for the trip.

"Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black," he beamed.

"Yeah, and while you're losing our money, I'll be hustling it all back," I said. "This place has one of the biggest pool halls in the country!"

Sam laughed despite himself as he put the flashlight back into his backpack. My smile faded as I fiddled with my phone in my hands, tossing it back and forth as I tried to conjure up the words I wanted to say.

"Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking," I began. I shifted uncomfortably, hating what Dean deemed as chick-flick moments. "Um...I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon. You know, situation was reversed, I guess I'd've done the same thing..."

Sam and Dean were silent, letting me speak my peace. I tried not to think about the hell I knew this deal was putting them through or the fact that I was the root cause of it. "I mean I'm not blind, I see what you're going through with this whole deal, me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay.”

“Oh, you think so?" Dean said.

“Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you'll live your lives...you guys are stronger than me," I said in all seriousness, making Sam and Dean shake their heads. "You are! You are...you'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I’m sorry for...putting you through all this, I am-"

“You know what, Ellie? Go screw yourself," Sam said suddenly, cutting me off.

I looked at him in confusion. "What?"

Sam turned around in his seat, looking at me, "I don't want an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself."

I raised my eyebrows, throwing my hands up. "Oh, well excuse me."

"So would you please quit worrying about us? I mean, that's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Ellie, I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a crap that you're dying!"

I looked from him and over to Dean who was watching me through the rearview mirror. He shrugged, agreeing, "What he said."

I stared back, challenging before I decided that it wasn't worth it. I looked away, smiling softly as Sam widened his eyes. "So, that's it? Nothing else to say for yourself?"

I chuckled lightly. "I think maybe I'll play craps."

There was a beat of silence before Sam scoffed, shaking his head before going back to face the front again, Dean's eyes lingering on me.

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

FOREVER TAG LIST

@spnbaby-67 / @luciferslucille / @anti-social-club / @search-bar / @mellorine-paprika / @thepocketshoelace / @jaremish / @the-salty-asian / @robynannemackenzie-blog / @mersuperwholocked-lowlife / @caswinchester2000 / @damnedimpala / @lauren-novak / @adeanmon / @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce / @defenderrosetyler / @resanoona / @avngrsinitiative / @nyotamalfoy / @ykta-m

EPISODE REWRITE TAG LIST

@strangedeerconnoisseur / @artemisandromedaathena-blog / @elite4cekalyma / @dragon-master-kai / @bxrbiewrites

WINCHESTER SISTER TAG LIST

@bunnyandy12 / @breereadsthings / @slytherinrising / @stressedoutkitten / @dragon-master-kai

*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

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morganwrites12672 · 2 years

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Dean Redding x Reader

Dean Redding a character from the Naturals series by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR DEAN REDDING and the other characters I wore for. Finnick odair and peeta mellark are the only ones not in my master list.

You lay with your head resting on Dean's shoulder. He has one arm around your waist as the other scrolls through social media.

You were both only fourteen. It was your first and his second year at the program.

He noticed the distant look in your eyes, "Babe. What's wrong,"

You consider lying for a moment.

"What do you think it's like to be normal," you asked. Tears in your eyes as you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't, come back to me, YN," he pleads as you start to slip.

"Fuck, sorry," you say as you get up.

"What the hell is up with her," Michael asks.

Dean glares at him, "It just happens," Michael reads dean.

"Your upset, whatever is making her be so, spacey is making you get very upset," he observes.

"She can tell you if he wants," is all dean says as he softly pulls you from your visuon.

You get startled and run up to the room with Dean in tow.

Once you are inclosed in ln privacy, you slide down the wall and try to breath.

You had seen it again. Your parents were yelling at each other, YN, you kept hearing your name but ignored it

Your mom throws a vase at him and he gets mad. He grabs his gun, YN, and shoots her. You cover your mouth to hide your sobs.

He then panicks and shoots himself.

You watch his lifeless figure hit the floor. Your parents blood started pooling together in the living room.

YN-

You are pulled out of it by Dean shaking you, "It's not real," he says as he helps you stand. He brings you to his bed before he wraps his muscular arms around you.

You hide your face in his neck as you sob.

"What's wrong with her?" Cassie questions.

"I have no clue," lia states.

"So a room full of the smartest teenagers and we can't figure out why one girl spaced out," Michael states.

Sloane walks in, "It's a form of PTSD less than 15% of people develop," with that she grabs something off the counter and starts to leave.

"Wait, a cup of coffee if you explain," Michael exclaims.

"I have been sworn to secrecy," Sloane states.

"Three cups of coffee,"

"No," and with that she is gone.

Dean softly holds you as you calm down.

"I know you're not okay. You just won't show it," you say, moving away to look him in the eye.

He smes sadly, "I handle other ways," he kisses your forehead as you both lay in silence.

You decide to break it. You shift to where you are sitting on him, a hand on his chest, the other tilts his chin.

You bring your lips to his as you kiss. His lips are warm, and moist. And everything you have ever wanted or ever needed.

You carefully tug at his bottom lip as his tongue invades your mouth, he lets out a soft moan, before flipping you.

You gasl at the sudden movement as he softly reconnects his lips, his tongue, once again, invading your mouth.

"Hey, guys-" Sloane shrieks and walks away as the two of you break apart. You don't mention that dean had a little bit of lip stick on his lips.

Michael bursts in ," Shit, I missed the action," he pouts he looks at Dean, "But you didn't," he smirks before leaving.

Dean rubs his lip and glares at you whenever he sees some of your dark red lipstick on his hand.

"I was marking my territory," you smirk before you fall back into bed.

"What are you going to tell them ," your lover questions.

"I don't know," you admit.

You walk back to the outside world, and see them all gathered in the living room.

"Best guess," you question.

"PTSD," Michael shoots back.

"Correction rare form of PTSD, Anxiety, and OCD," you correct.

Dean smiles as you sit down hand on his thigh.

They all look at you with wide eyes, "That's a lot,"

#the naturals #jennifer lynn barnes #dean redding #dean x you #Dean Redding x reader #Dean Redding fanfic #Dean Redding fluff #Dean Redding angst #Dean Redding one shot #Dean Redding fanfiction #Dean Redding imagine

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1leos-small-corner1 · 10 months

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Yo, people, what's up?

#batfam x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #fourth wing #jason todd x you #dean winchester fic #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd imagine

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welldonebeca · 2 years

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Little Red Riding Hood (I)

Summary: When her car breaks down in the middle of Kansas, Red crosses paths with the Winchester brothers. Grandma really should have taught her to stay away from big, big wolves. Not that she would listen. WC: 1.2k words Warnings: None, so far.

Masterlist

Red squinted, trying to see the street right under the light.

She had never seen so much rain before.

This was the longest trip she had ever tried making. Mum had suggested she took a flight instead of driving across the states to see grandma, but a roadtrip was something she always wanted to make.

She had lived in her small town so long that now she took every single chance she had to see the world.

The problem was that she was starting to regret it now.

After hours and hours of just seeing wheat fields, this was the first town she saw, which was a relief. Red was exhausted. Hopefully, they had a motel or something, and she could stop and sleep a little.

Fate, of course, was laughing right in her face.

Suddenly, her car jolted and stopped, sinking down.

Oh, no.

"Fuck," she growled, opening the door just enough to look at the ground.

Mud. She was stuck in the mud.

Red closed the door again and tried to make the car move, but she could see it was only sinking deeper.

She groaned and got out, covering her eyes from the rain and finding her car just stuck, practically completely sunk in it.

Fuck, this couldn't be happening.

It was almost 10pm now, raining and the lady time she had had any phone reception was four towns ago.

She couldn't stay here.

Red looked over at the town and then her car, and stopped.

She had to get there. But she couldn't leave her car behind! It was her baby!

Red braced herself and picked her purse, holding tightly to it before heading down, and immediately saw a 24h gas station.

Fuck, good.

She rushed inside, and the tired cashier just stared at her.

"Hey, my car broke down," she explained. "Is there anyone I can call?"

The man hesitated.

"Maybe?" he asked. "There is a mechanic across the town."

“Yes,” she confirmed, quickly.

She needed help. Right now.

“How do I call them?”

He squinted a little.

“I think they are sleeping right now,” he decided, pulling a card from somewhere. “It’s late now.”

She reached out, taking it from his hand.

“I’ll take it,” she decided. “Is there a landline I can use?”

He shrugged and pointed at a phone across the room.

“You’ll need a coin for that.”

Red scoffed, getting her wallet and giving it to him, grabbing some chocolate bar and putting it on the counter too.

The cashier rang it, and gave her a few of those phone coins, and he scoffed before going there.

She typed the number slowly, and opened the chocolate bar, expecting it to ring for a while, but a man picked it up right away.

“What?” he grunted.

“Good evening,” she greeted quickly. “My car got stuck, I’m from a different state, I need help.”

He grunted.

"Are you fucking serious? Listen, kid, I don’t have time for this.”

Red almost whined. No, she couldn’t be left in this place.

“I’m not kidding,” she insisted. “I really need help. My phone is not working, you’re literally the only number this cashier gave me.”

There was silence on the other side, and a different voice caught you.

“Hello?” a different man asked.

Oh good, now she was going to be passed through mechanics until they picked her up.

“Hi,” she sighed. “My car got stuck, I need help. Please.”

He sighed on the other side.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Where are you?”

She breathed in relief.

“I… don’t know,” she confessed. “My car is outside of town, there are a bunch of wheat fields and a red and green gas station near.”

He hummed along.

“Yes, I know where that is,” he decided. “What are you doing out in this weather?”

Red glared at the phone.

Oh, of course, because she was a witch and knew what the weather would be like in a tiny town in a state she had never been in before she left.

“It wasn’t like this when I left,” she answered.

The man sighed.

“We’ll be there in 15 minutes, you can wait in the gas station, ma’am.”

. . .

"Little Red Riding Hood" is being posted on my Patreon right now and is only coming to Tumblr in 2023. Subscribe to my page to read it now! It's just $2 a month and I post 6 times a week.

#Little Red Riding Hood #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction

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tipsypenguin31 · 1 month

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Dark Signs (Mihawk) Chapter 12, will 10000000% be posted tonight. When tonight exactly? Pssssshhhhh I have no clue. Could be 10pm…..10:02…….12. Haha I just hope I can continue this really good emotional state I’m in. Cause that’s what’s driving me to post. So gonna hold onto the rare happy serotonin boost for as long as I can before I’m back down again.

I was going to finish it last night, but in the middle of it, I got a really good fic idea for Supernatural. 💕 haven’t written for my #1 favorite fandom in a million years. That one though is still a WIP and nowhere near ready to be shared. It doesn’t even have a title 😂

What If Shanks chapter 3, is nearing completion. Hopefully, I can post that one tomorrow night. 💜

Chapter 4 for the Shanks fic will be a whole Benn Beckman & Amaris (my OC) chapter. Beckman has some questions for Amaris 🙊 this will also be the chapter where (hopefully) I can bring your OC as either a love interest or a very near and dear close friend to Beckman.

So if you would like to be that person or have your OC be that person. Let me know! That entire chapter will be dedicated solely to you, and you get 100% of the project credit. 🫶🏽

Anywhoooooosssss uh, well I guess that’s it for now.

Thank you to those who are following and loving my fics. Y’all are a HUGE Inspiration and have a lot to do with my serotonin high right now. So thank you so much. Truly 💜🥹

To those who are new. Welcome and I hope you are enjoying my fics and stay a spell. 💜

Alrighty well, catch y’all lovely peeps 🐥 on the flip side. 💚

#fanfic #opla #writing #writing inspiration #writing community #fanfiction #write #writers #supernatural #one piece #one piece anime #dracule mihawk #dean winchester #red haired shanks #benn beckman

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thestruidora · 1 year

Note

How about this prompt with Dean Winchester x reader?

In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.

Thanks!

Cry Wolf

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Werewolf Dean, Possessive Behavior, Some Angst, Fluff and Smut, Non-con Elements if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Blood Kink, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Undertones

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean gets bit by a werewolf during a hunt, forcing Sam on a quest to find the sire lycanthrope and cure his brother. Suffering the effects of the transformation, Dean is quarantined in the bunker all by himself. It really is bad timing when you come a-knocking, utterly oblivious, and with a bleeding gash on your upper thigh. Did I mention it was a full moon?

This is a one-shot. Here's the masterlist of my other fics: Masterlist

Chapter One

Bad Moon Rising

"Don't come around tonight, well it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise."

You were limping, the cut on your leg sending a shooting pang through you every time you took a wobbly step forward. Getting in your car had been difficult, driving had been terrible, but leaving the vehicle and trudging down the asphalt road to the uneven terrain along the entrance of the bunker was the real bitch.

You banged on the side of the door, the metal continuing to vibrate long after your knock.

“Guys, it’s me.” You announced. A dark, heavy cloud loomed over your head, covering the big full moon that shone in the sky. Soon little beads of water were beginning to fall on top of you. “Come on, it’s starting to rain!” Still, there was no response.

You cursed under your breath and took your phone from your pocket, calling Sam one more time. As it had happened in your previous attempts, his voicemail was all you reached.

“Shit.” Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name, about to press the call button yet again, but a gearing sound stopped you in your tracks.

The bunker’s door was cracked open by an inch, wide hazel eyes meeting yours through the gap.

“Dean?” You could only see a sliver of his face, but his pupils were incredibly dilated, almost obscuring his irises entirely. His mouth was agape, and he panted for air as if he had just run for miles.

“Hey, kiddo.” You cringed, not only at the condescending nickname that he had forced on you years ago, but also at the rasp in his voice. It was gruffer than usual, deep, and full-bodied. “Whatcha doing here? Is Sam with you?” He looked over your shoulder, eyes darting around to inspect your surroundings.

“Uh, no. I’ve been trying to call you guys, is this a bad time?” You placed one of your hands on the side of your wound, wincing at the ache. With the other hand, you held onto the wall in front of you, uncomfortably shifting your weight.

Dean noticed the rip in your pants, a dark red spot tingeing the fabric of your jeans, and instantly his expression changed. The furrow in his brow disappeared and his face lit up, a glint you had never seen before flashed in his eyes, making them appear greener for a second.

The door of the bunker swung open, revealing the disheveled image of the older Winchester.

His hair was messy, as if he had tossed and turned in bed. His lips were split and swollen, as if he had bitten on them till the skin broke. And the navy blue shirt he wore was drenched in sweat, the light material stretching under his biceps and his heaving pectoral muscles. You didn’t remember him being that ripped.

“What happened?” He asked, focus unwavering from the gash on your thigh, tongue poking out to wet his parched lips.

“I had a run-in with some demons. Those sons of bitches did a number on my leg.” You explained, not liking the way he didn’t look up at you, appearing to be entranced by the seeping blood coming from your damaged skin.

Dean refused to say anything in return, or maybe he simply wasn’t capable of doing so. He just stared at your injury with a kind of sinister awe.

“I don’t wanna impose or anything, I was just kinda hoping Sam could patch me up.” You added at last, those words seeming to snap him out of his stupor.

“I can do it.” He blurted out, not giving you any time to think before he wrapped his hand around your wrist and tugged you inside.

You cried in pain when you stumbled into the bunker, not prepared to move your thigh so abruptly, his grip too tight where he held you without letting go.

“Sorry.” He murmured, noticing your discomfort but not loosening his clasp.

The wet sole of your boots squelched on the vinyl floor and you felt a rush of relief to be sheltered from the increasing rain, if only that feeling could’ve lasted for longer.

Dean slammed the door behind the two of you, the click that reverberated in your ears signaling that it locked as it closed.

“It’s fine.” You said, in regards to his apology, and offered him a weak smile while you pried his closed fist from your wrist with some difficulty. For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to let go.

You took a few shaky steps towards the foyer’s balcony, resting your arms on the railing of the staircase and looking down at the antechamber of the bunker, all the blinking lights from the old control panels catching your attention.

“Where is Sam, anyway? He’s not answering his phone.” You question, with your back to Dean, but no reply comes your way.

You shrug it off, assuming that he merely didn’t want to disclose his brother’s whereabouts. It was none of your business, after all. Like most things the Winchesters get involved in, it’s probably highly dangerous and way above your pay grade.

You can’t even begin to remember how many times you tried to participate in their world-saving crusades, be useful somehow, only to be flat-out prohibited by Dean. He’d say you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t safe, that you were too young, and so on until you stopped showing interest altogether.

Now, you hunt on your own, only seeing them from time to time. But you like it that way, you like having no one to bark orders at you, you like proving that you’re good at your job without anyone’s help. Unless, of course, you screw up and get hurt, in which case you do need someone’s help.

“Do you even know how to do it? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna need stitches.” You inquire about your wound, the abused tissue throbbing even as you stand still.

You sense movement behind you and Dean’s hand appears at your side on the railing, his torso touching your back and his nose tickling your nape. You hear him inhale deeply and then let out a sigh of pure satisfaction, the hot air landing on your neck and sending a tingle of goosebumps up your arms.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to face him, forcing some distance between the both of you, absolutely shocked at the quick turn of events. “Did you just sniff me?”

“No, of course not.” He shakes his head, almost as confused as you are. He scans you up and down, licking his lips again, and his eyes glaze over before he puffs out a breath and fights to recompose himself. “I mean, yeah, a little bit.”

“Why?” You elongate the syllable, thinking that maybe, if you really enunciate your words you might be able to get some sensible answers from him.

“It’s just that-” He advances on you and you back away from him, your ribs hitting the railing when you have nowhere else to go. He stops in front of you, invading your personal space and caging you with his big arms. “You smell so fucking good.”

He hunches over you, bending his spine till the tip of his nose touches your temple and his lips graze the high point of your cheek.

“Dean.” You call to him, but he fails to acknowledge you in any way. “What are you doing?” You try again, more forcefully this time, and he ignores you just the same. There’s a continuous vibration coming from his chest that sounds awfully similar to a purring animal, almost like he wants to soothe you into submission.

His left hand grabs the fat of your hip, bunching up the hem of your shirt and squeezing under the fabric, abnormally long nails nipping at your skin. His right hand, however, entangles itself on the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling unceremoniously so as to expose your neck to his exploration.

He mouthes on your pulse point, huffing as he pants and nuzzles against you. He doesn’t exactly kiss the sensitive skin as much as he runs the plump pillows of his lips up and down the span of your bared throat, drawing invisible shapes of his choosing.

He then finds a particular spot he likes best, right behind your ear, and fixates on it. Completely lost to the world when he lolls out his tongue, longer than what is humanly possible, and licks where the taste of your natural scent is the strongest.

The moment you feel the wetness of his saliva laving at your flesh, you jolt jarringly, pushing at his chest with all your will, and it’s like trying to move a mountain with the way he doesn’t even budge.

“Stop!” You yell, mustering as much assertiveness as you can into your tone before you give him a final shove, sending him three to four steps backwards.

Dean seems to awake from a daydream, eyes flashing to a fluorescent green and back to his normal hazel. He stares at you with a frown, unable to catch his breath, attempting to take a step in your direction but you raise a finger at him and he halts.

“Stop it.” You order and his frown deepens, looking wounded and unhappy, but he obliges.

You spear a glance at the stairs to the side of you, your only escape route since he was currently blocking the door from where you came in. You could race down the steps and lock yourself inside of the many rooms in the bunker, but with your leg the way it is, you wouldn’t make it past a single step before he caught up to you.

With your index finger still raised at him, you support your weight on the railing and move to make your descent down the stairs, planning on taking it one slow step at a time.

“You’re hurt.” He states after you swallow a lament while on the second step, visibly itching to come closer. “Let me help you, I can carry you.”

“No. You’re gonna stay right there.” You command, doing your best to not let the pain show in your features as you drag yourself to the floor below.

His feet inch towards you while he eyes you like a disobedient puppy, knowing full well that there’s nothing you can really do to stop him.

“You’re gonna stay right where you are, and we’re gonna wait till your brother comes home, and then we’re gonna sort this out.” He’s at you before you finish your sentence.

You yelp when he snatches you suddenly, pulling you below your shoulder blades and lifting you up, your only option being to wrap your calves around his hips and brace yourself onto the back of his neck to keep from falling.

He carries you down the rest of the stairs, short-winded and with droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. He burns you, not only with the heat of his unblinking gaze, but also with his unnaturally high body temperature. You had never felt someone’s skin this hot in your life. You didn’t understand how he could be standing, let alone holding you like you weigh nothing.

“Ok, you can put me down now.” You say when you get to the antechamber, but Dean’s grip tightens on you and he continues to walk into the war room.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He’s mumbling, and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you or to himself. “I just need to-” He drops you on top of the light-up map table in the middle of the room, with surprising care and delicateness. “I just need to scent you.”

“What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, trying to move away but he restrains you, sinking his claw-like fingernails into your nape as a clear display of dominance. You whimper at the sting and he leans over you, purring louder than before.

“Dean, listen to me.” You can’t shake the feeling that you’re attempting to reason with a crazy person, but you have to try. He’s much stronger than you, bigger and faster, even more so with one of your limbs impaired. Talking him out of this is your only chance of preventing whatever he has in store for you. “You’re sick, you must be delirious from a very high fever.”

“Love your taste.” He’s clinging to you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he laps at you with his tongue. The moist, flexible muscle undulates across your collarbone when he goes further down, pouty lips closing in to suck at the juncture of your shoulder, right above your artery. “Wanna bite you so bad.”

“You’re not making any sense.” He’s completely disregarding your words, though he smiles at your breathy tone.

You press your mouth shut and close your eyes when he rakes the pointy edges of his teeth over your veins, not wanting him to hear or see how his ministrations are beginning to affect you. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how sharp his canines were, closer to fangs than anything else.

He tugs at the collar of your shirt, ripping the cloth with outstanding ease and exposing your bra. By that point, your own breathing was labored, the mounds of your breasts bouncing up and down in their tight confinement as you heaved.

Dean’s irises are radioactive green when he feasts his eyes at you and proceeds to stick his face in your cleavage. He groans like a madman and pulls at one of the cups of your brassiere, your right tit spilling out and being clutched by him almost immediately.

He traps your nipple between his index and middle fingers, teasing it to a stiff peak and you shake at the burst of pleasure. You grab at his forearms to steady yourself, swallowing down a moan that threatens to escape you.

“Let me hear you.” He yanks your head back from where he holds you by your scruff, as a dog would do to another, and you let out a whine at the bestial way he handles you. “That’s right, don’t hold back on me, give me everything.” He takes your puffy nipple into his mouth, suckling and biting, and a fire spreads through your lower abdomen at the sinful sensation.

Once he ceases his assault on your boob, the tumid bud is covered in his spit, the chilling air from the ventilation system making it that much more sensitive.

His hands fly to unbutton your pants, and you’re so dazed from his heady presence all around that you allow it for a minute, only moving to intercept him when he has both of his hands hooked at the waistband of your jeans and is already tugging them down.

“Dean, we gotta stop this.” You beg him, a considerable amount of your restraint lost as you fail to convince him, his hands too strong for you to swat away while he peels off your jeans. The material sticks to the dry blood around your cut, making you flinch, but he continues till the garment hits the ground, cooing an apology for your discomfort. “There’s something wrong with you, you’re not yourself.”

He pays you no mind, transfixed by the image of you laid in front of him only in your underwear. He looks even bigger than when you first arrived, thick neck bulging with raised veins and rippling muscles straining under his shirt.

“You smell ripe.” His voice is hoarse and booming, a feral edge emanating from him when he kneels before you. He brings his head close to the gash on your upper thigh, hypnotized by the blood that oozed from it, filling his lungs with the scent of your arousal mixed with your blood. “You’re good enough to eat.”

The ends of his white teeth sparkle in the artificial light coming from the lamp in the ceiling, appearing to be razor-sharp. It gives him an ominous aura that causes you to shiver under his unrelenting glare, and he smirks at you, wrapping his hand around your legs to prevent you from moving.

His lips graze the inflamed skin around your wound and you squirm at the contact, fearful of what he might do next. The talons at the ends of his fingers scratch at you as a warning to stay still, and you do, gasping when you feel the scrape of his tongue on your tore flesh.

“This can’t be happening.” You say to yourself as you watch him hunched over you, smacking his lips at the taste of your blood, as if you were a rare delicacy and he was hungry.

His first couple of licks stung, causing the muscles of your thigh to contract involuntarily, a torrent of purrs coming your way in an effort to alleviate your distress. But as his saliva coated your broken skin, the soreness subsided and the pain was numbed. All you could feel then was the strange but far from unpleasant sensation of his continuous lapping, a spark of neediness shooting up from where he was laving his tongue at you, making your middle throb and pulsate.

He grunted, looking up at you as if he could sense your craving, as if he could smell it. His left hand travels up your leg, stopping by the fabric of your panties, pushing it to the side, and uncovering your glistening cunny.

You feel his licking on your cut becoming sloppy as he salivates and his fingers move to caress the top of your pussy. He presses gently on the hood of your clit, revealing the swollen bundle of nerves to his eyes that shine with a desperate desire.

“Look at how wet you are.” He mutters, mouth colored with a slick shade of crimson. The pads of his fingers rub up and down your slit, gathering the moisture seeping from your clenching hole to massage your flushed bead of pleasure. “You’re so precious.”

The praise goes straight to your pulsing center, molten lava settling in the pit of your stomach, and you mewl shamefully when the back and forth of his fingers makes your pussy gush.

You never thought Dean would do something like this to you. He had always treated you like a baby sister, while he was the overbearing, overly protective older brother.

He’d comment on the length of your skirts and on the tightness of your blouses, going so far as to deny you rides to places if you didn’t change into something he thought of as appropriate.

He’d hang around you at bars, hovering too close, keeping any and all interested guys from interacting with you.

He had always seen you as a kid, and now there he is, sucking on the lacerated flesh of your thigh like it was his last meal and fingering the sopping place between your legs.

“Please!” You cry out, no longer sure if you’re pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

“You want more?” You answer your own internal question by nodding enthusiastically to his, and Dean groans and drools on your open cut as he inserts two of his long, thick fingers into your scorching hot cunt. “You need more to cum, princess?”

Your lips form a perfect o when he breaches your tight, gummy walls, stirring your insides until he finds the spongy, tender spot he was searching for and fucks it with come-hither motions, over and over, again and again.

“Oh, my God, Dean!” You wail, high-pitched and wanton, losing all your inhibitions and bucking your hips in time with the flicks of his wrist as he drills his callused digits inside you, roughly and repeatedly, without giving you time to adjust to his incursion.

“That’s right, squeeze my fingers.” His voice was low and heavy, laced with untamed ferociousness, akin to the rumbling of a snarling wolf. But even with his lips gleaming with the ruby substance from your wound that he insisted on licking, speaking between the obscene slurps, Dean managed to rein in his most primal instincts to encourage your free-fall into bliss. “You can let go whenever you want, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

You revel under his coaxing, under his reassuring words. You didn’t know how much his approval would affect you, embarrassingly loud wet noises coming from your soaking folds while he hits that place inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out.

All your life you dreamed of having Dean’s validation, and now he was showering you in it, your cunny fluttering at his constant moans and grunts of elation, even though you haven't touched him once. His satisfaction came from giving you pleasure.

That burning euphoria mounts up and up till it snaps and you fall down the precipice. A rush of pure, untainted ecstasy overtakes you and you scream, the drive of his fingers scissoring your spasming walls prolonging your orgasm.

As you lay there, atop the light-up table, a panting and heaving mess, Dean slowly withdraws his fingers from you, making you squirm and whine at the absence.

There's some movement happening around you, the rustling sound of clothes hitting the floor along with the metallic clank of a buckle. You barely register the lack of his mouth on your injured leg, any ounce of pain that you once felt coming from it having been entirely erased.

You sense him grabbing the sides of your panties and ripping the fine cloth with quick, firm hands, and you still can't find it in yourself to react while the flimsy pieces of fabric are rendered into useless scraps that fall off of your body.

But the blunt end of his dick searing into you is what brings you back to reality, the feel of his girth stretching you in ways you didn't even know were possible being too much to ignore.

The whole thing was too much. The position that you were in, with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips yet again just so they don't dangle off the table. The noises coming from both of you, broken sobs that begged for more of that violent jolt of adrenaline. And, of course, the incomparable sensation of being split open by the biggest cock you've ever taken.

“You're doing so good, kiddo.” You make grabby hands at him when you hear him call you that, whimpering pathetically, and he leans over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips.

Some sick part of your brain brings forth all the times he hugged you when you were still a teen. The way his huge hands would squeeze the small of your back and your tits would rub up on him as you stood on your tippy-toes to receive his embrace. The way he would linger a little too long and bend his neck to steal a whiff of your hair.

He pinches the side of your belly and you gasp, his tongue seizing the opportunity to force its entrance into the warm cavern of your mouth. You scratch the skin of his nape and pull on the short hairs on the back of his head, moaning at the slick, pornographic kiss.

His lips close around your tongue and he sucks on it, slurping noises filling the room as he pounds into you, his heavy balls hitting your dripping pussy and squelching over and over.

“Keep taking all of it.” He breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear, filthy words in that baritone voice littering you with goosebumps. “Be a big girl and take all of this dick.”

You let out a puff of hot air and nod at him, promising to do your best as he spears the fat head of his shaft in and out of you with abandon.

His sweat begins to blend in with yours and you tug at the hem of his shirt, wholeheartedly annoyed at the fact that he was still wearing it at all. Dean chuckles, all sharp and pointy teeth that could rip into you and take out a chunk of your flesh, but instead, he spoils you and removes the offending garment, putting his hands over his head and pulling the shirt from behind till it is off, tossing it aside without a second thought.

You grope the span of his torso, from his broad shoulders to his barrel chest, and then his defined abdomen. There was definitely something unusual going on below the surface, an unlimited potential he kept trying to contain. As if he could grow bigger, become somehow larger, change right before your eyes.

You feel your way through the taut muscles under his skin, running your palms down his powerful arms and back up to his wide neck. He gulps under your scrutiny, your hands catching the way his throat bobs and his pupils shrink then dilate again, seemingly as mesmerized by you as you are by him.

He takes your right hand and brings it to his face, mouthing the pulse point, scenting you as he fucks you, the hammering of his length into your cunny growing erratic. He licks and sucks and scrapes his fangs on your wrist, almost to the point of breaking the fragile skin, groaning as you whine desperately.

The more he rams into you, molding you to the shape of his absurdly hard member, the more you come to terms with the fact that he has ruined you to any other man. Because why would you seek someone else's touch when you know only Dean Winchester and his monster dick have the power to obliterate your pussy?

With his free hand, he applies pressure to your clit, swiping the rigid pearl up and down and side to side, ignoring your pleas for mercy as you find yourself on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, kiddo, give me another one.” He commands, tone silky and honeyed, but still imposing and domineering in a way that if he were to tell you to jump, all you could do would be to ask how high. “I know you can give me another one.” He keeps going, thumb relentlessly playing with your pleasure point. “Cum again for me.”

You yell, honest to God yell, unsure if you can survive the wave of heat that burns in your loins when your cunt compresses around him, all the nerve endings in your body vibrating simultaneously while you cum.

Because he fucked you so good, because he rubbed you just right, because he said so.

As the dam breaks, a sudden spurt of hot, slippery fluids pours forth from your slit. A copious outflow of liquid cascades from you and lands on Dean's pelvis and his lower stomach.

“Fuck!” You elongate the word, sobbing due to the unmatched delight you experience like you never experienced before. The feeling boarding on too much and not enough at the same time, Dean's fingers continuing to grind against your center even as you squirt all over him.

“What a messy girl.” He grins, iridescently green eyes sparkling atypically, fingers finally quitting their assault on your raw clit, your cunt contracting around his veiny cock from the aftershocks of your mind-blowing release. “Spraying your juices everywhere.” He tuts and pulls out from you, inch by inch, agonizingly slow.

You give out a pitiful lament at the loss and at his taunting words, the noise that comes from your throat utterly unbecoming of a grown woman, but you can't seem to care at this point.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know I-” Dean interrupts your expression of regret with the full weight of his dominant hand landing between your legs, slapping your puffy folds, and making you writhe on top of the table.

“Don't fucking apologize.” He snarls, leaning over to bury his nose in the crook of your neck and swipe his tongue on your feverish skin. “You did so good, I'm covered in your scent and everyone's gonna know.”

You mewl like a bitch in heat when he starts to jerk the span of his shaft on top of you, the mushroom head catching on your entrance from time to time while he strokes himself from base to glans. Precum weeps from the bulbous end and mixes with your own wetness.

“Gotta mark you now.” He tells you like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's obvious. His hot breath tickles your neck, the tips of his sharp teeth almost piercing your soft flesh and you shiver at the idea that he still might just lose control and do it.

You crane your head down and do your best to steal a glance at the steady rhythm he's building, managing to stare in awe as he pumps the meat of his member.

The tender tissue is flushed and throbbing in his firm grasp, his balls tensing up, full of pent-up energy. You can't believe how big it is, beautifully cut and well groomed. Painfully hard and thick, so thick you don’t even understand how it had entered you.

He grunts and squeezes the round edge before picking up his pace, not knowing where to look as his eyes roam from your swollen lips to your pert nipples, and then your quivering pussy.

“Gonna make you smell like me.” He mumbles, muscles straining and veins bulging, steaming ropes of white bursting from his urethra and landing on your face, on your boobs, and on your belly.

Dean roars as he covers you in his spent, dense and sticky and endless shots of cum painting you. You whine in surprise, licking off some of the substance that got on your lips. He tastes rich and tangy, full of a power unknown to you but still palpable, making your tongue tingle and your throat burn when you swallow.

He's out of breath and so are you, but he doesn't allow you time to recompose yourself since he's already rubbing his release over your belly, taking a glob of it and smearing it on your slit. You thrash about because the feeling is too overwhelming, but he holds you in place and pushes his seed into your welcoming hole.

“You look gorgeous like this.” He says, reverence in his tone while he bites your earlobe and stuffs you with his essence. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

You don't know what to say, you don't know how to act. You hadn't expected to be categorically ravished by the man you had always seen as an older brother today.

In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn't that Dean, the Dean you knew your whole life, at least not fully.

Something inhuman drummed beneath his emerald eyes, the familiar hazel long gone by now. And any shadow of doubt that you might have had about his feral state is pulverized when you feel his length harden again against your inner thigh.

There’s no refractory period and you scream as he bullies that fat dick inside you once more, feeding it into you more carefully this time.

“Holy shit!” You're hoarse, sinking your nails into his shoulders and drawing blood.

How can he be hard? How is that even possible?

He hisses when he bottoms out, filling you to the brim. His rough hands find leverage on the meat of your hips, clasping each side firmly before he begins to pound into you. He uses you as a cock sleeve, lusciously scraping the ridges of his hard-on against your clammy walls.

You can't find your voice, the room spins around you, and your head bangs on the hard surface of the table in time with his thrusts.

You can feel everything. Every nook and cranny that he reaches in you. The twitch of his shaft every time he hits your cervix. The furniture that supports you creaking below.

“Mine.” He proclaims, the smacking of his sweaty skin on yours upping in tempo, the dirty noises the two of you make bordering on offensive. “Say it, say you're mine.” It's an order and you want to comply, but your brain has turned into a scrambled, useless thing so all that comes out of you is a prolonged whimper.

Dean isn't able to handle your unresponsiveness, growling loudly and inflicting another slap where you are most sensitive, a broken sob erupting from you at the contact.

“Tell me who the fuck you belong to, kiddo.” His voice is so velvety it makes your eyes roll.

He’s everywhere all at once, you can’t see or hear or smell anything else but him. Somehow he’s still growing inside you and your lungs burn because you keep forgetting to breathe. You forget your own name in favor of being the center of his world in this moment.

“I- I'm yours.” You croak out, tears getting caught by your lashes, convinced that the speed in which he pumps in and out of you should be criminal. “I'm yours, Dean."

He pulls violently on your hair and howls, guttural and wild, the base of his member expanding impossibly larger still and stretching your opening when he begins to cum inside you. You try to pull away, but you physically can’t, not with the way he pins you down and plugs your cunt with his knot.

How did that happen? How did you end up here?

“This isn’t real.” You think you say it out loud, but maybe you didn’t and there’s no way of knowing for sure.

You can still feel him pulsating and ejecting spurt after spurt of his milk into you, purring so loudly you can’t even hear your own thoughts.

He rests his head on your chest, the both of you stuck to each other until you don’t know when, but he seems content with that. His fingertips draw irregular shapes up and down the expanse of your arm as he regains his wind much quicker than you do.

You stay like this with him, and at some point, he senses something you don’t and tenses up, straightening his back to look to the right of him, careful not to tug where he’s joined to you.

“Dean!” You faintly catch Sam’s voice when he shouts, but it’s muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The younger Winchester is standing by the end of the staircase, features overtaken by shock, a syringe filled with blood in his hand as he stares bug-eyed at the scene before him.

His brother on top of you while you lay naked on the table in the middle of the bunker, covered in cum and trapped on his dick, eyes dazed and blissed out, panting through parted lips.

Dean looks at Sam, then at you, then back at Sam. The supernatural glow in his irises dies down and he seems like his true self for the first time since you got there, brows furrowing while he clicks his tongue and considers the situation.

“Listen.” He raises his index finger at the furious brunet, a sheepish grin on the corners of his mouth. “In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #Supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean x reader #spn fandom #request #story prompt #sexy times in the bunker #werewolf dean #eat my heart out #bite the fuck out of me #paint me like one of your dallas girls

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