#Dean x original character

[lachelledavies-winchester]

" Dean, it's not porn. That's what makes sex so good, too. "

He looked at her in wonder at that lightness and lingered over every inch of her body. 

" Shall we change the game? " she asked as she stood up with feline stride. " Tell me what you like. "

Dean watched her in silence; she looked tremendously sexy with her blouse open and her boobs breezing down, between which the flower pendant descended. She had a few mini tattoos here and there and a couple of small scars that made her body even more intriguing and attractive.

" I wouldn't want to traumatize you. " he said to set the tone and test her again.

" Sorry, I forgot that you are older than me. " she teased him by pulling him toward her to reach the couch. " Do you see me as a schoolgirl? Do you think I can't chat like that too? Are you of those who like to be called sir? Or daddy?"

She smiled again when she saw him biting his lips, certain that she had discovered a kink in him at the first stroke. She knelt down this time and began to lick his member, showing him how much of a schoolgirl there really was in her; she neglected no part of it, alternating the pace from slow to fast and her hands to her mouth, combining them to stimulate his balls from time to time as well.

" You are so hard. You're making me wet again. " she moaned between lunges, making him gasp with that deep cavernous voice, not realizing the growth in the intensity of her own moans until she stopped to look at him and smile at him again with a look that communicated that she was restraining herself, but still with that lightness and complicity that he adored.

" You're really getting into trouble. "

" Then I can't wait to find out what my punishment will be. " she answered him as she calmly walked to her suitcase and pulled a condom out of a clutch.

" You are so sexy. " Dean remarked, at that moment completely captivated by her independence, by her being very different from the women he usually dated.

" I've been thinking all week about you fucking me in every place we've been, in every possible position ... in every possible hole. " she knew when to tread lightly to keep the desire from wavering, and this time she did so as she helped him insert the condom, alternating between thrusting phrases and twirling her tongue over the head as with obvious difficulty he completed the task.

" Oh baby, you're playing with fire. "

" What now? "

" Now daddy will teach you not to instigate such a man this way. "

Here the third chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/50832031/chapters/141889423#workskin

[spnhunter4life]

Can I get everyone who sees this to send me their favorite Dean fics? It can be something you've written or something from someone else that you really enjoyed. Please, nothing that is all about the smut with no plot and nothing dark or too heavy on angst. Other than that, I don't care. Case fic, AU, friends to lovers, established relationsip, platonic relationship, reader insert, original character, one shot, series... whatever you've got is fine with me.

[joannasteez]

tanks of blood (7) - eighteen is dangerous

pairing: biker!roman reigns x black reader warning: lots of teenage angst. descriptions of body insecurity. descriptions of alcohol consumption and reckless behavior (getting in a pool while drunk is very reckless, don't do that please!!) consensual underage intimacy (just a kiss!) reader is going through it unfortunately, sorry authors note: this is a flashback. reader is eighteen and roman is nineteen. word count: 7300 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @sortudademais @gg-trini @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce

eighteen is a dangerous age to be alive. all of your almost adult thoughts and ideas and intentions strewn together by wild, colorful imagination, but, at times, for the sake of another. in front of your mirror, picking at your hair and pinching the elastic of a maybe too tight swim suit. the back cut out to reveal skin and your legs thicker now than they were last summer. frustration brimming harsh in your blood so well it's knotting in your throat. tears pricking your eyes. doom in your bones. because, fucking boys and their oh so amazing pool parties. water every place you step and the torment of maybe getting thrown in for shitty amusement. beer bottles floating everywhere and just-finished-with-high-school-teenagers too lightweight to hold their stomachs. not that you're any better. but at least you know that much about yourself. the pool, party and house courtesy of seth and the kegs of beer to come courtesy of dean no doubt. a friend of a friend of his who wants clout with the club so badly that he swiped his card on kegs for underaged leather bound boys. fucking men. 

and seth's guest bedroom is hot. sweltering so much that it nearly leaves you damp with sweat. your fingers undone with a trembling ache as you pull a pair of shorts over your thighs. overthinking on over drive. because he and his cousins and the rest of the "vip's" have yet to make an appearance. the common people waiting with bated breath for their loud, grimy noise filled entrance. a rumbling, chaotic spectacle filled with air's and aura's of a specific importance and nature that you'll always find too high maintenance to keep up with. but that's why eighteen is such a terrible time, despite maybe your exaggerations about the angst of it. this weird refurbishing of the soul. his mighty self importance aside, romans thoughts and opinions mattering now much more than they used to. your eyes yours still, brown and "shaped so prettily", as your mother likes to say, but not really. going about a constant examination for someone else. shaped against your face perfectly but living outside to look inward too. 

because would he like what you've done with your hair? the earrings you've decided on for the night? the way the swimsuit cuts out at the back? toes painted a different color from your fingernails but oddly cute all the same, because you couldn't be bothered with changing the shade. your tummy not as flat as last year and that scar still embedded in the center of your palm. eyes working for you but at the service of another. him. yes. eighteen is goddamn dangerous. 

that sweet silver necklace he gave you sometime ago. eyes all nervous and his fingers shaky as it clasped the lock of it before you kissed him. a warmth to his skin you never knew existed till that moment. the cool of the metal resting on your skin. dipping low a bit more than usual. the swimsuit made with built in cups. accentuating indeed. because swiping for it at the register of the sports store was easy. naomi at your side smiling bright and excited with a matching style in a different color. the try on process quick and sure with a good natured finality because her eyes were different. lacking that air of intense appraisal. a girls girl for you in the truest sense. her eighteen and your eighteen so similar sometimes. her dealings with jimmy like yours with roman. 

a knock against the bedroom, like a warning, before naomi bursts through. red solo cups in hand and a frustration running lines into her face. long, waist length braids, ponytailed up and away from her face. the bright neon of her swimsuit wet, and her legs dripping some on the carpet. 

you shift quick from the mirror. a creeping heat in your cheeks rising till it settles about your forehead. heart hammering before it plummets to your empty belly. the idea of somebody, anybody, finding you amidst such a vulnerable moment of self brought on scrutiny, absolutely troubling. embarrassing even. a damn scary state of affairs that nearly makes all the doubts and uncertainties breathe harder, heavier. with a better purpose. 

"you went to the pool?"

plopping to lay against the made bed. the fluff of the sheets comfortable despite the heat. maybe even comfortable enough to stay laid up against. a decision that feels more and more appetizing by the second. 

she stands just near the mirror where you'd been, setting down the cups to readjust her hair. a strong presence living along with her reflection. unflinching and sure and at ease. "i took a dip. enough not to get my hair wet", she starts. still corralling the long waist length hair. "i was tryin to wait around for you but somebody decided to abandon me last minute to come up here", giving a pointed look through the mirror. slivers of guilt slipping under your skin. but her fuss of it doesn't last very long, eyes rolling as she dips into an annoyance. "they all down there standin around all brainless n'shit, like they need to be told when to get in the pool. half of them is only here just to say they came anyways...". her steps shuffling over the carpet, cups in hand again. "...followers irk my nerves", she groans. eyes dropping quick over your body. "why are your shorts on?" 

you sit up. a quick, abrupt movement. driven by that suffocating air of hesitation you've fought with since slipping on the swimsuit. 

"should i take them off?"

and maybe naomi doesn't understand the painstaking work of such hesitation, or even if she does, it isn't shown. eyes living with all of the opposite actually. "where is this coming from? it was fine when we bought it, it's fine now", her body plopping beside yours. eyes shining with a scrutiny towards you for the first time tonight, and maybe the first time ever. but oddly enough, it doesn't burn the skin, and neither does it make your esteem shrivel. a sigh leaving her. hardened eyes, protective and familiar in their way, like you could have maybe felt them once before in another lifetime. something similar to how a sister looks to her less stronger one. "if you're worried about what he thinks, then forget his ass. he should be lucky you even lettin him breathe your air". 

and your nerves don't fall away all that quickly, but the air is less thick now. breathable. your eyes interested now in the cups she's bought. both filled with something pink, but the smell of it like that faithful burn of tequila. 

"you're right". 

she smiles."have i ever been wrong?"

your eyes rolling playfully. "no"

"exactly". shoving a cup in your hand before bursting up excited. "so sip on this and lets go mingle". 

and maybe you're like your mom about these things but "mingling" is for the fucking birds. an unexcitable process of small talk that does your head in. because no one actually cares about anything real, or different, or new, they just want to make good on first time impressions. all the real things, these scary little bits of air and unspoken moments between the words. something something, if we make the daughter of the vice president of the most infamous, illustrious, biker club in all of florida laugh and smile and twiddle her fucking thumbs, then we've made it to the inner inner ring, of the inner circle. which is a lie and a half. sweaty shoulders rubbing up at yours and the dampness nearly folding over your stomach with disgust as you follow naomi through to a less busy area of the backyard. the heat steeping in and weighing over everywhere. the crowd as idle as she said it was. hesitation in their bones as they wait for some fearless leader to make the first move of jumping in, so they of course then, can follow. 

you sip at your cup, and then nearly guzzle it the rest of the way. a cold, fruity bite to your tongue that helps ease the angst. 

your eyes peering over to the sliding door that connects the backyard and the inside of the house. like a mere gazing over would summon the not so true bane of your existence. a nineteen year old boy with a penchant for unscrewing your nerves loose. your words tongue tied when they aren't soothed into an easy quiet submission by the sweetness of his mouth. groaning little kisses that leave you frenzied and a little dazed and scared. because he has that way about him unfortunately. a lax sort of domineer. flirtatious eyes and quick little phrases that make your skin crawl something horrendous but excellent just the same. you literally despise him. mouth seeking your cup again. already at the end of your drink and feeling the hard rush in of it in your blood. warmth in your belly and a dizzying effect that loosens your anxieties. the type of buzz that asks for more. 

a small little table exists near a group of shrubs. a cloth bag nestled in a particularly thick way of leaves. your hand sticking down and into the bag to pull out a bottle of tequila. because seth said "only my buddies get the good shit", everyone else suffering with cheap beer they bought, waiting for dean and his kegs to arrive.  

 and with a harsh splash of water—some rando a little less than recklessly diving into the pool—does the party finally actualize. bodies corralling quickly in that cold wash of blue and the music a little louder. this concoction of whatever on your tongue and your urges less accounted for. 

surely this is what naomi means when she says "mingle". forgetting about yourself a little and just being. a hard task made easier when tequila doesn't give two shits about what it means to be perceived. eighteen not as dangerous when you've got liquid courage to slot a small battery in your back. 

"samir right?", his name calling sweetly on your tongue. the leaving of it gentle as you make to get closer to him. a tall-ish boy—but certainly not taller than roman—with a rich dark caramel complexion. charming hooded eyes and the cutest nose. his beer clutched for dear life in his hand like he'd maybe pay to be anywhere else. 

"uh, yeah". a cautious sort of surprise. like the possibility of speaking to him was slim to none. "how'd you know-"

"i seen you with yah dad before...", memory working amidst the alcohol. your words a little loose. stepping closer to him to get over the loud play of the music. his cologne nice in your nose. the type of scent made for double takes and "where'd you get it from?" questions. a silent wingman working as a possible conversation opener for anxious girls who maybe don't know that being this close makes for a heavier suggestion of familiarity. an intimate proximity like you know him more than just from seeing him around. "...he brings his car around my pops shop for tune ups n stuff. you look like him", and maybe the smile after that comment with the way you stand next to him implies something more than it should or more than you want it to but you don't notice. the fuzz of your brain winning the 'i dont give a fuck about being perceived' war. 

but samir is smiling and his shoulders are maybe not as slacked and bored. squared now with a new sense of purpose and open and facing you, like he's giving you the space to be as close as you'd like. like for some odd reason, if you fell into him, he'd catch you better, not that there'd be any reason for that but yeah...whatever, and the buzz is so obviously shaping your blood to run with a renewed sense of unawareness of present situations. thoughts roaming off to weird deep ends before they slip back close to where they belong. sipping at your cup again before you peer up to find him staring. a quick wandering of his earthy brown eyes, maybe at the silver of your necklace or the cup at your lips or maybe even a little below where your necklace dips in. 

samir's eyes bug. an embarrassment clinging to the shape. like he's just snatched himself out of the daze of staring at you. a throat clear that exposes the uncomfortableness in his own body at being made. "what're you drinkin?" 

"it's just juice and tequila, fruit punch i think...", taking a sip. "...beers not my thing". 

"s'not mine either", he gives. looking at his beer bottle unsatisfied. "kinda just grabbed it, cuz it's the only thing here". 

and maybe he'd have more fun if he were where you are? loose and slightly adrift. carefree amidst a sea of people who care too much. "if i say where the stash is, you won't tell right?"

"not a soul". 

your head juts, a motion for him to follow. his steps in rhythm with yours and that cologne staining his skin still flirting with your nose. like a light goading. this silent attempt to lure you into something unfamiliar. because all you know is the cool silver of this necklace, strong teasing fingers and that dark rumbling engine. the nineteen year old boy—who you don't think to name at the moment, not even in the secrecy of your thoughts—this not so true bane of your existence, is still, to you, a great big world of an almost man. tall and surrounding and new and the whole of what you feel for him still uncovered. so maybe it isn't exactly smart—even if such a rebellion lives in the name of a not so odd, half baked, tequila born, self esteem boost—to live so deeply in this state of coyness. a realization, or rather a confession, that threatens the carelessness binding your bones. 

eighteen a little dangerous still, playing loose and a little faster in your blood. because the liquid courage gives you this two-fold, uncanny, brazen sort of awareness. convictions flowing strong, parentally charged in a way that makes your ego break against it in bursting acts of rebellion. the midnight summer air sticky against the skin and baiting. the warmth like a second rushing in, a muggy air of defiance living beside the heat in your belly and the sweet flavor on your tongue. 

you push through that grouping of shrubs, revealing the hefty bottle. 

"shot?", a question but not really. more like a soft demand, styled with a smile and inviting eyes. 

the pour of it playing over samir's voice. a near drown out. "sure", he gives. the cup in his hand already before his decision can come into any finality. "cheers", the words slipping off to linger in the air like he's trying out the phrasing. like he's trying to please your excitement enough to keep it there on your lips. 

you take the stain of it on your tongue quickly. a clear burn that conquers easily on its way down. your throat humming to give it some ease but poor samir is reducing more by the seconds into a fit of coughs. the dry dirtiness of the tequila new for him. not yet to be overcome by the looseness it'll give his bones. 

you laugh. a fit of giggles living a little less than controllable. mixing a more digestible drink into his cup. something more similar to yours. "you don't drink too much huh?"

"nah", his face scrunching. expression embarrassed. "not really". 

"here", passing the cup back to him again. "try this". 

he sips at your concoction. face less screwed as the sweetness of it tempers the bitterness in his mouth. "s'pretty good", natural dark eyes a little brighter. a spark struck across them even. surely not made from janky pool lights that work no better than the old neighborhood street lamps. a courage to him that seems to settle in after he sips again. a courage that leaps with fresh legs. "you have, really, really beautiful eyes", tumbling out. unable to be stopped. the thought perhaps always there but now given the freedom to breathe. to walk and run.

"oh". dumbstruck. a load of giggling that bursts abrupt. not malicious, no. just the sort of drunken amusement caught from the suddenness of a thing. untamable almost if not for the fall of his face. making you feel awful, like shit. "i-..."

samir blinks. like he's just been un-dazed from a dream. "that was corny, i'm sorry".

"no, no, no, it's fine, i just-", your fingers trembling slightly. reaching across the little table to touch him. hands in his, to give him surety "i just-i didn't expect you to say that. thank you". 

"i'm interruptin something?" 

the question teasing as it leaves. flip flops shuffling before they flap down, smacking against the wet cement surrounding the pool. an obnoxious, creeping, entrance. it makes your blood more solid. hearing that mocking tone he gives. roman and the forever glimmer of mischief, spread about his eyes and his lips. like he's hinting the possibility of a storm. gaze drifting over your hands, the way they leave samir's, the proximity of your bodies and the ease of it. a knot in your belly, corralling in with a load of dirty little feelings. roman tall and broad. suffocatingly so. annoyingly so. like a tower. like a mountain that blocks the sun to cast a shadow. that burst of brazenness spreading fun under your skin, now tugging itself along to shuffle back into the dark nothing of a corner. but why should you have to cringe and recoil in and from your innocent fun? why couldn't you delight yourself in a little attention? was that so horrible? your arms crossing over. disruption, childlike and eager, running alongside the bold streak. 

"no". your smile tight lipped. voice bright. "just poppin samir's tequila cherry". 

samir chokes. coughs dangerously hard. roman's eyes slitting to narrow. his jaw giving a small clench before he returns your expression. a mirthless grin. "how nice. i hope he enjoyed it". 

"i think he did". 

roman's brows lift. your audaciousness funny. "lets ask". attention directing itself toward samir, who seems to be the most uncomfortable. 

"i uh", his hand setting the cup down. nervous, antsy and it irks you whole. "yeah, it was. it-it was fine". 

roman hums. shuffles up more till he's nearly flushed against your back. the fabric of his tank top blowing with the heat of the slim midnight breeze, hitting whats exposed of your skin. a reminder. your fists clenching. fucking asshole. the necklace at your chest still cool. in agreement with him. his presence this annoying, territorial claim. possessive and unwavering. your belly empty, your head swimming and frustration clinging to your nerves so well that it's stupid. because this is stupid. because annoyance shouldn't live like this, shouldn't find even ground with enjoyment so well. blood hot, something dizzy working behind your eyes. a complicated, rush of a feeling that has yet to be totally deciphered. 

"you're one of seth's buddies right?"

"yeah something like that". samir appearing less tall. shrunken in and a half step from paper frail. less willing to indulge his eyes. the interest in them gone and refusing to meet your face. and it sours whatever unnamed sweetness held for him. your curiosities gone. because allowing roman to destabilize him so easily. unbalanced and too shy for proper confidence. where was the fun, competitive edge, in that? a bold streak of something uneasy and conflicting and tricky. not simply rolling over and letting him win. thats what this was supposed to be. a riot for some damn reclamation. "i'm just gonna go", samir says. your eyes rolling as he gathers himself to leave the small safety of the table. 

you peer up at roman. the source of all this bullshit angst housed in your person. his face soft but angular somehow. tender lips existing as the object of your lingering desires. his shoulders wide and his body thick thanks to home cooked meals and too much football. your fists balling till they ache. tequila dulling the pain of your nails but doing nothing for the baseless frustration. this boy... this man... this whatever he is, so pretty and exacting and sure all the damn time. always testing and making attempts and looking. your skin less like skin and more like metal. like the tinny cold make of one of his many football trophies. and now you feel no better, no greater than samir. shrinking in and your throat tight again. dizzy and trembly. a leaf in the breeze. like you're back upstairs in seth's guest room, peering into the mirror. eyes yours, but more useful for him now. 

hate isn't too strong a word is it? your father says it sometimes. like the word is venom born, made to poison. says it and then kisses your mother anyways. kisses and hugs her and churns her indifference into pretty, wispy noise. rich and thick. honey inspired. so if that works. venom and honey. both thick and useful. then maybe they're the same. 

"you're such a dick", you cut at him. eyes rolling hard. making to step around him. but he's so tall and everywhere. a world and a half. 

and he laughs. like everything is so funny. like you're funny. a joke. sweetened tequila on the tongue. bathing your stomach. fuzzily in the brain. he thinks you're a joke. 

"how would you know, you've never seen one". 

you gasp. your shoulder trying it's hardest to check him. a barely registered move that gets you past him and closer to the pool. "ass", you yell. loud enough for people to hear. 

skin sticky. trembling still. exasperated. your feet a harsh descending as you stalk to the opposite edge of the pool. the beginning steps of the shallow end. dean there with a cup of beer in hand. hair long and already damp. 

"trouble in paradise?" 

your eyes cut. a sharp look to warn him. a deep breath as you breach the water with your foot. trying the cool of it. "your friend is a fuckin asshole", you give. 

he chuckles. like maybe he knows that to be a little true. "what'd he do?" and when you don't answer, occupied with settling into the chill of the pool, he turns his attention over to his friend. chuckling still. "what the hell did you do?"

roman flips his hand. a 'whatever' motion, like he couldn't be bothered to even care. 

your blood boils. loose and on fire. "what doesn't he do?!" loud and irritated enough for dean to hear. loud enough for roman. for seth and the twins and everyone else in between. but it doesn't stop the party. just adds to the air. to the drone of the festivities. to splashes of water, and the splatting smack of beach balls. to good feeling breezy wind and the thumping bass of music. to guys trying to flirt with girls and girls trying to quell their boyish half baked charms with coyness and shooing splashes of water. the party in full effect and alive. pulsing and balanced. and maybe you shouldn't be in the pool, all loose-brained and dizzy feeling. but the water feels good and the distance from roman is a welcomed addition. gets his cologne out of your nose and rids you of the sensation of his body along your back. 

but his mischief isn't done. stretches with a fresh awakened need to stress your nerves. the pull up and discard of his tank top a sensational performance. like he's mocking and poking and punishing you with the gasp and squeals of girls who pry at him with sharp hopeful eyes. his body dipping into the pool on the deep end before breaching up with his hair slicked back and dusting his shoulders. curling up as it meets the air all finger provoking like. 

you hate him. 

feet splashing behind you. dean stepping to sink further and further into the icy blue of the pool. a quick, resolute voice of mediation. "aaalright...", he draws out. "...none of this shitty, sulky, energy". his back to you, arms stretched out and waiting, like a human pool noodle. "hop on". 

but the water is safe here at the shallow end. close to the stairs and faraway from eyes and his prying little stare that grows more amused by the minute as you fight and fail to ignore it. "dean, i don't think thats a good—", your body up ended. water splashing as you panic. a fast jostling maneuver that forces you to grapple him as he lifts you onto his back. "dean!!!", thrilled and pissed and dazed behind the eyes still. arms and legs wrapping tight about him as he treads into the deep end. 

and he's all smiley, the little shit. "you don't got much of a choice unfortunately".

"i can't swim". 

"i know", patting the clinging wrap around of your arm. reassurance that barely makes a full registration about the body. "i ain't gonna let you drown sweets".

"sweets?"

"new nickname for you", he hums. satisfied with the ring of it.  

and you snort. set your head atop of his as he treads the water. because dean—and though it's unusual for him to fail at many things—is unfailing at pleasing his penchant for nicknaming people. you in particular. a little list of moniker's reflecting the growth of your relationship. from 'sis', at sixteen, to 'sissy' at seventeen, and then a very offhanded 'babe' for sometime. a jokey little term of affection you accepted, because the humor of it proved stupid and weird and annoying for roman. always silently bristling about it. these wordless little shifts in his expression. a disapproval he felt was maybe too childish to name properly. but dean didn't linger on it too long. a little razz of a name before moving on back to just calling you by your government. but 'sweets' is new. promotes something, maybe, a bit more delicate than the others. more endearing. 

"cute", you approve. "where are we going?"

"where the party is". 

your arms grow tighter. cinched threateningly at his neck. his little laughs and the edge of his weight against yours not doing much to make your irritations any true problem. but you try anyways. "i swear to God, and Jesus freakin Christ ambrose...", your voice biting. words slipping through your teeth. "...if you take me over to him on some kum ba yah bullshit, i will drown you. i will use all of my weight and pin you to the floor of this pool...", his sputters, chuckles flaming your blood. "...i will end you. i don't wanna talk to him". 

"you two go at it like a fuckin married couple, just—"

your name shrieks across the pool. a drawl of a mezzo soprano voice. pretty and clear like freshly cut diamonds. sing song like and attention grabbing. enough for dean to halt his treading and pivot. curiosities a shitty merging with some low level form of dread. tequila swimming in your stomach, this large, prong attached battery. a careless, suspicious, jolt of energy about your blood as you get closer to chauncey hayes and her mini crowd of personality destitute friends. and no, the dread doesn't spring off from some shriveling form of a fear absolute, but rather the regular anxieties of interacting with a girl too boy obsessed to think straight. because chauncey still roams free and ditsy-like in the halls of tenth grade socialization. a shark of a particular caliber. too small to be truly frightening but existing large enough to annoy already poorly wired nerves. tonight is not the night for this. tonight is not the night for chauncey hayes. 

"just the girl i wanted to chat it up with", she smiles. a little looser than tight lipped. like the work of ingratiating herself to you is a goal but not a top priority. sincerity casting bright for some seconds as she drops her eyes. "hi dean".

"ladies", he gives, to her and all her friends. polite and smirky like. their reactions amusing. 

"what's up?", you ask. ready to get it over with. your arms and legs clinging to dean still. less vexed. seeking comfort. 

"so um...", a faux bout of rumination. her eyes a light bright warm brown, glowing to contrast the cool blue of the pool. a summery colored bathing suit fitting her skin and her hair loose and curly. "...you're cool with the twins right?", her eyes flicking to jimmy and jey. reverential, bordering needy and crazed even. naomi atop jimmy in a similar fashion to how you cling to dean. but her body proves less anxious, more affectionate. the boys cornered and laughing gut deep with roman and seth. "like...deep family connects and all that good stuff?" 

"how federal of you", dean mumbles. 

and yes, blame it on the alcohol. spirits saturating your veins. curiosities fortified and blindly misguiding. so much so that your clues as to where this might lead are a bit blurred. a nameless teenaged ruin. oh yes, just blame everything on that fruity, semi-acrid taste steeped into your tongue. "i guess you could say that, yeah". 

"so whats the status on them then? ... like, i know jimmy and naomi are connected at the hip but roman specifically...", a rushing in where words intend to flow. heat and blood. the inner parts of your ears muddied with an ill feeling. a disruptive sensation. fingers alive with these little twitches. belly swimming. nausea maybe. a well, wet with liquor and a deep vexing. because what the actual hell? "...like what's his deal? is he taken?" 

dean laughs. from the base of his gut. abrupt and ill-controlled. amusement full in his cheeks. "oh young and the restless, eat shit, this is magic", he barks. 

"dean. shut. the fuck. up", you cut. tongue sharp like obsidian. shifting along his back. re-hooking your legs and focusing your eyes from that loose daze. for what? better posture maybe? a maneuvering perhaps that gives one of your arms more reach, more freedom. a reason unknown really. but your human pool noodle takes it as a sign to tread a step backwards. like he knows something you don't. "why do you ask?", your eyes slitting. no less curious, but the anxieties are fallen away to leave a spark of something vicious feeling in it's wake. an unchallenged sensation housed in your chest. a beating, a pulse. the pump of it venturing out to the center of your forehead and the tips of your toes. a thorough spreading about till you're filled with the brutality of it. a dangerous feeling. whole and sweet and grimy. 

"i mean...what do you mean why?", chauncey flicking her shitty little eyes over to roman. a dazzling appreciation in them that aches your teeth. "have you seen him?" 

you grin. mirthlessly. "what makes you think i'd know what he likes?" 

"you're always hanging around...", a patronizing go of words. her eyes rolling, the thought of it sticking to her odd and unwanted. like your proximity to him is more of a nuisance than a fulfillment of his own wants. of each others wants. "...i figured you had a little insider information". 

and the way your arms wrap around dean for stability, fingers clutching nails into his pale skin. anger attempting to be tempered but proving formidable and real bitchy. his throat grunting as he feels the violence of it. "ouch...", he pats your arm for reprieve. to draw you back off the ledge. that resolute voice of mediation coming back in full stride. awkward and stuttered. "...ok uh, so i think maybe...maybe in the spirit of pool parties and um...buoyancy? ...yeah that sounds right... that we should do a breathing exercise...y'know just something to chill us out—"

you cut off his rambling. "is this you trying to be funny?", his hands digging into your thighs to keep you up as you press forward. "your town cryin ass is always ten steps ahead on gossip but you don't know him and i are together?...", voice louder than before. erupting till its bouncing off pool waves to ripple out to the deep end. "...have been together?" 

she scoffs. fighting not to shrink. "he doesn't even talk you up, i—"

"ok, ok, wait!", dean calls out. bewildered at chauncey's nonchalance. treading back.

"girl are you fucking dense?", you yell. 

"ah shit", dean mumbles. backing away slowing. bones heavy amidst the water. 

but you keep going. laughing with teeth. a mild mannered hysteria. "do you not like your life?"

"are you threatening me?", chauncey shrieks. trembling but warring against it.   

"you know who i am", you give. amused and loose blooded. 

"ok, i think thats enough magic for tonight", dean mumbles. his thumb rubbing into your knee as he holds and carries you to the stairs resting at the center edge of the pool. 

the metal curve of the stepping rods cold to the touch. your bones tired and heavy. skin wet. an empty, drained, sensation coddling terribly well everywhere. that short bout of hysteria dead. the party goers unsure of when or how to resume. awkwardly existing under the torture of your fire. the buzz once sizzling your blood, growing neutral and ill-suited for this new lane of emotion. a merging onto something quiet and dejected. the thump of the music never returning to it's former glory, even as your feet press forward into the house. tracking in wet, an untouched collection of dry towels hanging near the entrance. your hand snatching one up, making a b-line for the other side of seth's house. his kitchen scarce of teenage bullshit—apart, of course, from your own—and the loud song of too trivial chatter. the large towel wrapping your body, a tender lean against the counter, trembling softly, waiting for the chill to stop. 

a gut wrenching sort of enervation plays dutifully under the skin. on cue and terribly in the pocket. a grimace worthy rhythm. it makes a disgusting, beautiful, cruel tune out of your nerves. bursting and wild, like the roar of an old iron made engine. a rumbling orchestra, dirty in its symphony, those residuals of anger oh so noisy in the body. feeling mighty and familiar. a fire and grime inherited surely. because who are you that it'd pass you by without troubling skin and bones and the thoughts made ready to leave your mouth?  and sure, maybe in her mischief, chauncey deserved to be dug into the ground, her knowing bright eyes filled with wanting to tear you apart for the fun of it, but not with the easy mean speak of your father. she didn't deserve the grime and blast of that tough leathery part of his nature. at least not from you. being a vessel, holding this much in the same way, it hurts too badly to keep in. hurts more letting it go. 

and roman is light footed as he steps into the kitchen. silent but full in presence. shaping the room to his body. but then again, everything looks quite too large for understanding when you've gone under such a quick, awful diminishing.

"sober yet?" 

"almost". 

he huffs through his mouth. a deep, amusing breath. "it's always the lightweights causing all the trouble", leaning up against the island that runs parallel to the counter. his eyes stitching to your skin. sewing in and binding themselves. "you gave the normals a show though, they'll have something to talk about for the rest of the summer". 

your eyes roll, turning away from him. opening the kitchen fridge to grab a bottle of water. opening it to take a sip, before the sarcasm drips. "m'so happy i could give your fans free entertainment, apparently the little strip tease wasn't enough for them". 

"takin my shirt off at a pool party is regular shit. i can't help it if girls like the way i look. i can't control how people react...", his face running hot with irritation. his cheeks dusting a faint red. loose curls joining up in his hands as he ties them into a small knot. " ...at least i wasn't baitin nobody. you get a little buzz and forget i exist apparently". 

but samir was an empty rebellion. not forgetfulness. a coup against the self to rid of the overpower of his influence. an attempt at reclamation—of eyes and thoughts and opinions—at not caring and just being. was it misguided? sure, but not malicious.  

"i can't help it if boys like the way i look". 

"you was eatin it up...", he flares. not loud but deep. accusatory and pissed. "...all giggly n'shit, like you never heard a compliment before". his body shuffling closer to gain advantage in your line of sight. "i give you compliments all the time and you act all meek like you can't take it". 

the plastic of the bottle gives a crinkling groan from the grip in your hand. your tired eyes meeting his. those last bits of looseness giving you the wherewithal to speak. "you wanted me to be a dick about it?" 

"have the same energy or somethin", he grits. "you damn near threatened chauncey". 

"she was makin it seem like i barely existed next to you!"

"because...you maybe don't", he breaks. urgent. his shoulders falling, unweighted now. like the thought has lived and shaped well in his mind for sometime. his face closer and troubled. a confusion born from frustration. "you don't want me next to you, you barely want me to touch you, and you hate when i look at you for too long, but you want everybody and they damn mama knownin we together". 

that nausea. dizziness behind the eyes. "thats not true—"

"are we together?" he asks. 

the air feeling harder to breathe. that bottle no longer clutched in your hand but too cold still and your ears flooding to the tips with heat. pressure welling up in your throat too much it starts to ache. fingers gathering to ball, nothing between them but the bite of your nails into the palms. the phantom of a thing they hold against for dear life. eyes prickling with a stabbing pain. the beginning of salty warmth that burns the skin. 

you chuckle. mirthless and panicked. "thats not a real question. you can't be for real right now". 

"you got somethin real to say to me then?" 

and it's all resting palpable at the tip of your tongue. but it lacks the proper brilliance. makes no quarrel with itself of possibly being undigestible. it lives wholly uncomfortable, eagerly so, with a streak of menace. and this, he wants you to spit out? to let fall and burn and weight over the air. displeasure true in the heart of your chest, melted and flamed and dangerous like the inner core of the earth. 

"why you so pressed to hear about what i got to say all the time? always lookin and diggin for stuff that don't matter". 

"if its you, it matters", he stresses. confusion wearing well in his eyes but his words sure. "if it's not, then whatever. i don't care". 

and this must be what drowning feels like. the flail of feet and arms and a hopeless horror. water sucked into the lungs, salty and raging against the palate. sinking the words with an evil diligence. but the body has a way about it. an uncanny, needy, pestering desire to survive. to live. so the drowning is not quick. and you are not overcome quickly. coughing and screaming, skin hot and cold and pale and wrinkling. blurry eyes and a gasp too large to contain for long enough. fingers pushing water to rush it behind, a play at propelling the weight of your bones beyond the surface. to say something, to be asked to speak truth to a wordless dread, is the painstaking performance of drowning. "...you have things... you have the club... all of your friends are my friends... it's easy, you get up one day and decide i'm not what you want, you can just leave". 

"no". an instant thing, thick fingers cradling your face. his eyes frightened and brown and displeased. "no". resolute. always so damn sure of himself. his hands pulling, a soft embrace and gesture, your eyes unable to leave him. frightful of being seen but too weak to leave the meeting of his. "that's not true. and you boxin me in like that, it's not fair". your fingers tired, clutched and nailing into his arms. his face, a world of a thing. freckled and soft and tanned. cutting sharper at the jaw but gentle still around the eyes. mouth and tongue delicate despite the cool edge of him, his nature. "when i said, way back before ,that i gotchu, it wasn't me gassin yah head up. i was being real". 

but he doesn't stop. doesn't drown under the roll in of a tumultuous wave. 

his thumb sweeping your cheek. to soothe the skin. to persuade it of his care. "i'm never lookin at you to find somethin wrong or to find a reason not to look", his eyes a slow wandering pace. brushing smooth over your features. your lips and cheeks blooming with a sensation only admiration can give. "it's hard not lookin at you". chuckling and his eyes rolling. "and yeah the way he said it was corny as hell, but samir ain't wrong. you never not look good to me". 

you can feel his breaths here. the draw of his mouth as his appreciation leads him closer. a bright sweetness on his tongue that quickens your blood. his nose a short dainty nudge into yours. anticipation filling the well of your body. 

"i like being next to you". tall body slipping up calm. closer. surrounding you against the kitchen counter. "i like touching you". thumb skimming along your lips. "ain't nothin awful about all that huh?" 

you shiver. the curl up of it riding along your spine. "no". 

"exactly". convincing brown eyes and an exacting little grin. "and nothin bad is gonna happen either. i gotchu. you're mine".

his words a sweet working spell. lips a teasing slot along yours, but never making the full embrace of a kiss. your desperation for it pure. dampens the odd, dirty, hard to digest ideas. 

he smiles. amused. "i snacked on a mint before i came in here so... you kinda gotta kiss me now".

you snort. slipping your fingers over his arms. holding tighter. the fresh scent on his tongue a gentle persuasion. 

"it's mandatory huh?" 

"yeah cause you been fallin off a lot actually. missin weekly quotas. thats real bad for business". 

"something's gotta be done i guess". 

he hums. planting tender and simple. tiny little pecks that lure you further into the give of his lips. a hand sweeping low, his arm curling about your waist, palms splayed. his fingers there bending and running dull to feel the supple fabric of your swimsuit beneath the towel. touching and testing his limits. seemingly waiting for you to pry yourself away. you breathe into his mouth, the air funneling out of your lungs. teeth a teasing bite into his lip. smiling and falling into him. his other hand meeting the exploration of the first. an unhurried pace over your body, along the line of your back. pressing in as it trails. a gasp melting on his tongue as it sweeps in, holding the tremble of you. "so pretty", he gives. littering your jaw with the affections of his mouth. your everything, feather feeling, weightless, arrested and held up in the strength of him. his smile curving into where he purses into your neck. the rhythm of your pulse playing into his kiss. 

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You have some kind of nightmare and Bucky wakes you up but he’s still a prick and you have a fight.

Warnings: Flashback, mention of experiments, hydra facility, creepy stuff and I probably forgot something so forgive me. -> 18+ !!

Other: English isn’t my fist language so I apologize for eventual mistakes.

-> Masterlist

-> Part three ; Part five

-> Nonie (04)

A little you was sitting in the corner of your room. The place you called home was clean and sterile, empty of any unnecessary comforts - not that you knew what the word truly meant. The only source of light was coming from the single light bulb hung from the ceiling, and your bed - big enough to at least fit you - was pushed against a wall, it’s thin mattress covered in white sheets.

The walls were bare; you were not given anything normal kids your age had to at least make it seem more than just a prison. It was naked of any type of decoration, no pictures or paintings… just plain grey. And you loved it.

One day, your usual routine was changed. Up until then you had been alone, the only people you talked to were the scientists and Mrs White who came in to see how you were doing and tell you all about the process they were making thanks to you. But that day, you remember the sound of that huge, scratched iron door open and an Hydra agent escorting a girl into the room.

Not a word was exchanged before you and the new person were left alone. To be honest, you were curious but also confused - why did they brought her in all of a sudden? Was she another special girl? Were you not good enough anymore? You didn’t like that idea.

You watched as she went to sit on the other corner of the room, her head low, and you spent the whole day listening to her sobbing. Why was she crying, you did not know. How could she cry when she was in the safest place on earth?

Ungrateful. And she was evidently older than you, maybe sixteen or even seventeen - she should have understood her worth already at that age.

In the days that followed, you learned absolutely nothing about her. She never spoke and she spent most of her time confined to her side of the room - she wasn’t even given a mattress, and she did nothing to let you know if perhaps she was tired of sleeping on the floor. All you heard were her hums at night, melodies you didn’t know.

But for some reason, you liked having her there.

Eventually, days turned into weeks and your curiosity towards her only grew and it almost became an obsession - you wanted to get her to talk but never succeeded. Each day, like a clockwork, the girl was escorted out of the room by Hydra agents and each day, when she would return, her demeanor grew more unsettling.

“And so today Mrs White gave me a candy. She said I deserved it after I found where those criminals were hiding.” You said, hopping onto your bed as you stared at her - she was finally given one too, and now she did nothing rather than lay on it as days passed by. “Did she ever give you a candy? The one that looks like a bear - have you ever seen a bear?”

At your questions, all you could hear was nothing except her breathing. There wasn’t even a window in there. “Oh, yeah. You don’t talk. Mrs White says that when people ignore you, they are being extremely dis- dispec - I don’t remember the word she used. But it’s not nice!”

Nothing. She didn’t even blink, sometimes you had to walk over there to check if she was still breathing. “Whatever.” You sighed. “I’ll bring you a candy next time I’m done with a successful mission. Maybe you’ll talk to me. Or I can steal one - maybe I could. I don’t know. What do you think? Do you want a candy?”

Silence.

“Alright. Then I’ll bring you one.” You smiled at her. “But you need to tell me your name, I can’t keep referring to you as the ‘new girl’, it’s been… I don’t know. But surely more than a day!”

The girl stayed silent. Her eyes fixated on the ceiling.

“Mrs White says my blood is fundamental for whatever they’re working on, you know? We’re here to save the world.” You continued. “She said there are some people who don’t want that, like Natasha Romanoff. The prodigy of the Red Room, have you ever met her? She came here a few years ago and taught me how to shoot properly. And now, turns out that she’s been corrupted.” You sighed “You’re a great listener, at least.” You turned around, giving your back to her. Maybe she just didn’t like you.

Still, no response. Not even a hum of acknowledgement.

Your frustration mounted with each passing day, your attempts to communicate with her were always ignored and you were met with nothing but silence.

“Is there something wrong, kid?” One of Hydra’s agents, Ezra you had learnt, asked you one day as he was escorting you back to your room after another evening of restless training. You had to be at your best, they said, all the time.

“No.” You sighed, as your body felt like burning - that day they had gone heavy on you, but you managed well. You were the only survivor, as per usual. “When can I go outside? I want to help on the field.”

“Soon enough, kid. We have a problem in stars and stripes to take care of. Mrs White believes you can do it.”

You felt a sense of pride in you at his words. That man, they called him Captain America, was a heavy problem for the world. He was the one who kept ruining any attempt to make the world a better place, always stepping in to cause chaos. He needed to be eliminated and you wished it would be you to do so, after all you had the skills to do it.

“Then I won’t disappoint her.”

Once you got back to your room with the biggest grin ever, you saw Nonie - as you nicknamed her - sitting on her bed with her back on the wall, staring straight ahead of her. You sat right in her line of view, which was on your mattress, crossing your legs one over the other. “Guess what?”

Blank stare.

“I’ll kill Mr Captain America one of these days. I know I’m not as skilled as Winter is, but I can do it. I know I can.” You started to ramble convinced that she wouldn’t pay attention to you since she never did, but soon enough, too focused on your own words, you felt a hand on your tight.

A cold, almost imperceptible touch. She had walked towards you, kneeling down in the end as her legs were too weak to hold her light weight for longer than a few steps.

You stared into her soulless eyes for a moment, before she shook her head.

“No? What - what do you mean no?” You looked at her dumbfounded. “You don’t want me to kill him? Nonie, I h-”

But before you could continue, she crawled back to her bed in the same position she was in. You stayed silent too, for a moment. For a long, tense moment.

“So you can understand what I’m saying! You can hear me!” You realized, getting up. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Nonie made a movement with her pale hand to tell you to get closer to her - which you did without second thinking. Those few steps felt like happening in slow motion and once you were right in front of her, she raised that same hand to her mouth; her fingers grazing the edge of her lips.

You frowned, but you didn’t have the time to utter a word that she stuck out her tongue - or what was left of it.

≈

“For fuck’s sake - Emma!” Your eyes snapped open at Bucky’s voice, your heart racing in your chest as you sat up in bed, your forehead almost colliding against his.

You couldn’t help but dream about her, giving what you and Dean had saw just hours prior. She always came back into your memories one way or another, whether it was with a nightmare or just with a simple thought during the day - she was always there, in the back of your mind. And no matter how much years had passed since then, Nonie wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Bucky spoke again with a sharp tone. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve been trying to wake you up the whole night.”

You blinked in confusion, caught off guard by his harsh tone and the fact that he was sitting so close to you. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I had a nightmare.”

Bucky’s expression unexpectedly softened, though you could still sense some irritation. You knew he had trouble sleeping too, and waking up in the middle of the night due to someone else’s problems wasn’t really ideal. “Nightmare, huh? Great, now we’re both awake.”

You closed your eyes and took a breath for a moment as you tried to find the right words to say. You never meant to disturb him but you could not control how your mind worked - and Wanda wasn’t even there to help you. Sometimes you gave her permission to get inside your head and erase the bad memories for one night so you could properly rest, but she wasn’t with you and so you had to do it alone. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, his demeanor softening ever so slightly. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He admitted gruffly. He better than anyone could understand how you mist be feeling, and he could have approached it better. “It’s been a long day and I guess I’m just on edge.”

You huffed. “Believe me, I know.”

Bucky exhaled as he was still sitting on your bed, the situation becoming awkward. He got up, but didn’t leave quite yet. You saw some uncertainty in his eyes before he spoke again.

“Food always helps me with nightmares.” He cleared his throat, his tone softer than before. But not much, he was still Bucky Barnes after all. “Come downstairs with me. Dean left some pizza in the fridge before leaving.”

You noticed you were hungry now that he mentioned food. Once you and Dean got home after the investigation, still unsure of what you saw - or, rather, still hoping your mind had played an awful joke on you, you went straight in your room. You had left the task to explain things to Sam and Bucky to Dean.

“One thing I learned about Dean is that he becomes a mad man if someone touches his food.” You let out a small chuckle, getting up the bed.

“He left it for you.” Bucky admitted.

“Oh.” That was surprising. “I was going to eat it anyway but I will feel less guilty knowing it was already mine.”

Together you made your way downstairs to the kitchen, the silence was oddly comfortable for once. You sat down while Bucky took the pizza box from the fridge and tossed it your way. Action you thanked with a smile.

He rummaged through the cabinets searching for something to eat himself. He sat on the chair beside yours with a box of homemade biscuits - wait, homemade biscuits?

“The old lady that lives on the other side of the street brought these over today, when you and Dean were at the Miller’s house.” He explained after reading your expression. “We’re invited at her niece’s birthday party this weekend, by the way. I said yes.”

You being invited to a party full of strangers wasn’t really on the list of the things you liked to do since you were as social as a rock but what you wanted went into the toilet the second you became an Avenger. Like that time you and Pietro were sent on a mission on a yacht - you were scared as hell of the sea after a certain God of Mischief made you watch Titanic changing the finale with your face instead of Rose’s. But that was another story.

“Great.” You sighed.

“So, the investigation. How did it go? You came home quite traumatized.” He raised a brow, and you didn’t miss the judgement in his tone.

You stiffened for a second, your mind went inevitably back there just as soon as you were starting to think about something else. “I wasn’t traumatized. I just… if you had seen that, you would have understood.”

Bucky scoffed. “What? Seeing the breakdown of an hysterical old lady after she lost her daughter doesn’t seem so terrible compared to what we’re used to, come on now.”

You frowned. That was the last of your concerns, you weren’t a therapist or something but a breakdown was certainly not that woman’s biggest problem. “Dean didn’t- he didn’t tell you everything?”

It was Bucky’s time to frown. “He told us what happened. You two arrived there, the woman was obviously grieving her missing daughter and she had a break down after asking one too many questions which led to her kicking you out.” He reassumed everything Dean had said. “Isn’t that all?”

You gulped. Dean kept his mouth shut about that, and you wondered why. Bucky knew what Hydra was capable of, but that? That was something beyond imaginable. Still, before talking to Bucky about it you wanted to know why Dean kept it a secret and why he didn’t seem to freak out as any other normal person would - beside you.

“No, that’s all.” You said after a moment, sounding as sincere as possible. “It’s just… her daughter’s probably dead and… and seeing her reaction wasn’t easy.”

“Mh.” He nodded, seeming to believe you. “Rich coming from you.” He said after, turning back into himself - for a second there you almost forgot how infuriating he was.

“Excuse me?”

“Rich coming from you.” He repeated casually. “Didn’t you use to kidnap people yourself for Hydra? Or maybe… bring back the ones lucky enough to break free from their control?

You stayed momentarily silent. “No.” You answered. “I never kidnapped anyone or brought back anyo- what the fuck is your problem, man?”

“I have absolutely zero problems, but I wonder if you even have the right to feel bad when you used to do the same to innocent people - willingly.” His tone was as light as if he was talking about a damn football game.

“You killed dozens of people too.”

“I was brainwashed, and I feel guilty enough. You were not.” He fired back. “And you never apologized.”

“I was a fucking child, Barnes.” You reminded him, clenching your jaw. “I thought I was doing the right thing by complying, just like you were!”

“I know that, Dayne, I’m not an idiot. But you’ve been indoctrinated with their ideas all your life, which is exactly why I wonder how the fuck it is that you’re on our side now.” He said, leaning back on the chair. “I’m not attacking you, just curious.”

“It’s been ten years, it took me a long time to see things the right way.” You said, really stopping the urge to flip the table and walk out dramatically. “And it looks like an attack to me.”

“It’s not.” He remarked. “You know, Rumlow was a SHIELD agent while being loyal to Hydra. If he did it, I won’t get off the table the fact that you could be doing the same.”

“I never joined Hydra willingly, I was born there!” You shot back to that lunatic asshole. “Rumlow joined those people because he believed in their ideas, to me their ideas were the only thing I’ve ever known! Excuse me if I didn’t know a difference between the good and the bad when I was told that killing people was the only way humanity could survive!”

He sighed at that. Maybe he had been too harsh?

“You’ve been brainwashed in a way, and I in another. If you think I’m some kind of monster for what I did or I cannot be trusted, then we may not be so different.” You spat while pulling yourself up from the chair with force, the legs scrapping against the floor. “And if you wake me up again I’ll stick that metal arm up your ass.”

With that, you left him in the kitchen alone. Fuck him and fuck whatever his problem was.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Death Confessions

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: mutual pining, soft Dean, language, mentions of smut, mentions of death

Summary: the boys and you are on a hunt only things don't go according to plan...

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

You hate witches. Can't stand the miserable pricks.

Tonight, you and the boys had finally tracked down the local witch in town. Or should you say witches. Plural. And oh yeah, ex lovers as well.

The pair had decided to wage an all out war on one another and didn't seem to care that innocent people were getting hurt in the cross fire.

At some point during the battle, you were struck with a spell. You didn't think anything of it because nothing happened. The boys killed the pair while you were recovering from the blow and you got the hell out of town.

It's been 3 hours into your drive and you aren't feeling so hot anymore.

What the fuck did they do to you.

You're shivering but hot to the touch. Your stomach is in knots. And every time the oldest Winchester looks at you in the rear view mirror, you feel your underwear dampen.

Sam's asleep in the front seat and Dean is humming along with ACDC as he drives you all back to the bunker.

You don't want to panic anyone so you decide to wait it out. Rowena and Crowley are there currently and you're sure she will know what to do.

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

Another 3 hours and the impala is pulling into the underground garage the bunker has. You've managed to pretend as if your sleeping to keep the boys from worrying.

Sam turns around to wake you when he notices somethings wrong.

Very wrong.

You're covered in a thin layer of sweat. You're burning hot to touch. Your body is shaking uncontrollably, and you can barely keep your eyes open.

"Dean, something is wrong with y/n." Sam yells at his brother, who is unloading your crap from the trunk.

Dean comes running around to your door and opens it, almost ripping it off its hinges. Seeing you in this state makes his blood boil with concern and a protectivness. Reaching in he gentle cradles you to his chest and with Sam's help gets you into the bunker.

Dean's gruff voice breaks through the fog in your mind. His strong arms feel like bliss as he hold you close. His aftershave surrounds you, making your mouth water. A small moan slips from your lips as you feel your walls clench around nothing.

"Sammy go get Rowena. Tell her y/n was hit by one of the witches. I'm taking her to my room."

You vaguely feel him place you in his bed and cover you in his blankets. His scent is all around you and it's clouding your mind with nasty thoughts about the green eyed hunter.

You've always had a crush on Dean. He's charming, built like a damn model, and treats you as if you're the most precious thing on this earth.

Sadly, the womanizing Winchester has never looked at you more than a best friend. You hang, watch movies together, train once in a while, and he cooks you amazing meals. Nothing more than friends, and you're okay with that.

Better than nothing.

Whatever they hit you with is bringing out your desire for Dean. The same desire you buried deep down and try to avoid at all costs.

Another moan slips out as you feel slick running down your thigh.

Fuck this is embarrassing.

Just then, Sam returns with Rowena in tow. Thank God. Please make it go away. He can't find out like this.

"Oh dear. Sweetie what are you feeling?" Out of all the witches you've developed a soft spot for the red head in front of you. Sure she always has an end game that benefits her, but the woman is strong and resilient. You've got to respect that.

"Cold and uncomfortable." You don't know how else to describe it without completely embarrassing yourself.

Rowena exams you. You see when she clues in. The knowing smirk on her face.

"Well the good news is she will be fine. However," she looks over at the boys then, "someone will have to stay with her tonight and help her work it out of her system."

Dean and Sam share a confused look before Sam speaks up, "what?"

"It's simple. For whatever reason the witch cast a fuck or die spell. I'm sure y/n here wasn't their target but either way she needs to fuck it from her system or she will die in 24 hours."

Your eyes go wide as you listen, "I'm sorry, what?!?"

"It's the only way Dear."

"No. There has to be something else you can do Rowena. Anything else." You were too busy freaking out to catch the look of disappointment the crossed Dean's face. However, Sam wasn't. Even though the oldest Winchester never admitted it out loud, Sam knew how his brother felt about you.

"Y/N it's okay. Dean can stay with you and help you any way you allow." The younger brother said before he motioned for Rowena to follow him out of Dean's room. Leaving you and the green eyed hunter alone.

--------------‐-------------------------------------------------------

"Y/N let me help you." At this point the spell has gotten so bad you won't allow Dean to touch you. Which is of course frustrating the living hell out of him.

"No, Dean its okay."

"The fuck it is. You're dying and I can help. Why won't you let me?"

"It's too much to ask from you. We're friends Dean but even friends have limits."

"If it saves you I'm willing to do anything!" He's temper has taken over. Not understanding why you won't let him save you.

What the hell, you're dying anyway.

"Are you serious Dean!" You're outburst shocks him. He goes to speak but you cut him off.

"No Winchester, shut up and listen. For three years I've watched you take home girl after girl. For three years I've sat at that table or in your Baby and listened as you told us everything you did with them the night before. Not once complaining. Not once telling you how jealous I fucking was. I'm not your type and I get it. But don't think for one minute I will throw away the closet thing I'll ever have with you just to save my life." You point your finger in his direction as you continue.

"I fucking love you dumbass. I've been waiting, hoping you'd see me more as what we are. Hoping you'd get your head out of your ass and see that I'm the perfect girl for you. I'm a freaking hunter. I know the life and the risks. But no, instead you waltz every bimbo you can in front of me like some prized fucking pig."

Before you can continue chewing him a new asshole Dean pounces on you. Strong finger tangle in your hair and his soft lips dominate yours. The surprise subsides and you begin to kiss him back.

"You done yelling at me sweetheart? Cause I got something to say. I've loved your snarky ass since the moment you told me to blow you three years ago when we crossed paths on the vampire hunt. I love everything about you and I only ever got with those women because I knew you could do better than me. I'm not worth the pain y/n, but God dammit if you feel the same than why not try. "

He pushes his large erection into your wet core. You can't help but moan at the feeling. Dean smirks down at you.

"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to fuck you good and hard for as long as we need to so we can save your life. Then I'm going to make you breakfast before I spend the day worshiping this beauty body how I should. You okay with that princess?"

"Don't call me princess."

"Shut up and kiss me woman."

And kiss you did. Every part of your body as he did exactly as he promised. Fucking you in every position. When he's big, fat cock needed a break he was making you cum with his tongue or fingers. Over and over again until your body began to go back to normal and fatigue set in.

When you woke in his warm, safe arms you found Dean staring at you. You've never seen his eyes shine so bright.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah I am. Thank you." You lean up and kiss him.

"Let's get you some food." He jumps out of bed and walks to his dresser, finding you one of his shirts. You through it on before you walk out of his room hand in hand.

Sam is already sitting at the table when you walk in together. He looks up from his tablet and just smiles.

"Shut up Sammy." Dean barks as he swats your ass and begins to get the ingredients for breakfast.

"I'm just happy Dean. You got your girl and we didn't lose y/n."

Dean looks over at you and smiles. Fuck you love that man.

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

Taglist:

@syrma-sensei @yvonneeeee @nancymcl @foxyjwls007 @lessons-of-red @senjoritanana @leigh70 @tristanrosspada-ackles @maggiegirl17 @neii3n

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova and her father. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Bellova gets her revenge, but also comes to a heart-wrenching realization.

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, a good amount of angst

A/n: Buckle up y’all ;) Also, I recommend listening to Vigilante Shit, I Did Something Bad, and/or get him back! while reading this chapter.

“Come in.”

Bellova opened the door to Dean Highbottom’s office, swiftly shutting it behind her. 

“Ah, Miss Reginelle,” he said, setting down his papers. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of the students?”

She smiled dryly. “I’ve come to speak with you about a very important matter. I believe that the integrity of the Games have been tainted by cheating.”

He raised an eyebrow, folding his hands on his desk. “Go on.”

Bellova walked towards him, making sure to maintain her flawless posture and calm expression. “I know for a fact that Coriolanus Snow visited Dr. Gaul’s laboratory right before the snake mutations were released to attack the tributes. And I am almost certain that they were held there before being sent to the arena.”

Dean Highbottom nodded. “They were indeed.”

“See, being one of Dr. Gaul’s most favored students, she had discussed this particular breed of mutated snakes with me before. She told me that they would not attack any being who’s scent they have been introduced to before. Because of his…conveniently timed visit to her office, I believe Coriolanus slipped something with Lucy Gray’s scent into the snake enclosure before they were sent off. That is why she was able to survive their attack.” 

There was silence for a moment as the dean processed her accusation.

“I see,” he said. “I will look into it, for you have given me plausible reasoning to investigate. Is there anything else you think I should know?”

Bellova grinned. 

‘Sorry, Coryo,’ she thought. ‘Say goodbye to your temporary glory.’ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coriolanus was puzzled when he was torn away from the celebration and told to report to Dr. Gaul’s lab to meet Dean Highbottom. Perhaps the idiotic old man had finally come to his senses and wanted to apologize for his constant harassment. 

As he walked through the Academy accompanied by two Peacekeepers, he smiled at the thought of the dean begging for forgiveness. How he would love to see him grovel like a pathetic fool.

Then, he heard footsteps up ahead. Bellova was walking towards him, her ruby-red lips curled into a cruel smile.

As she passed by him, she murmured something so quietly that Coriolanus almost missed it. But when he processed what she’d said, he knew he’d never forget it.

“I hope you know you brought this on yourself.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bellova arrived home, she went straight to her room. She felt nauseous and dizzy, climbing up the grand staircase clumsily and almost slipping several times. She stumbled into her bedroom, and collapsed onto her luxurious canopy bed. 

The full weight of what she’d done hit her like a pile of bricks. 

She ruined Coriolanus’s life. 

He would never recover from this. Who knows where he’s end up? Maybe in prison, maybe an Avox if Highbottom was harsh enough, or maybe somewhere in one of the least powerful districts. Either way, she was sure he would never set foot in the Capitol again.

Maybe she should’ve waited a few days before going to Highbottom to expose him. It was hasty to snitch on him right away, but at the time, it felt right. But now, she wasn’t so sure.

She buried her face in her crimson red pillow, resisting the urge to scream. 

Why had Coriolanus done what he had done? He was never sympathetic towards the districts like Sejanus Plinth. What made Lucy Gray so special? She was just another district animal, and yet Coriolanus had done everything in his power to ensure her survival. She knew he wanted to win the Plinth Prize, which required that the recipient was the mentor of the winning tribute, but stooping as low as cheating? It was such a desperate move that Bellova briefly wondered if he had gone mad.

‘No,’ she thought. ‘Not mad. Utterly insane.’ 

As the hours passed, she slowly came to accept the truth: 

Coriolanus Snow had fallen in love with Lucy Gray Baird. 

A single tear slipped down her cheek. There was a stabbing pain in her chest, which grew worse as she began to sob. 

What did a no-name district runt have that she, a Capitol heiress, did not? 

What made him fall in love with her instead?

There was no use in continuing to lie to herself, not with him gone forever. 

She loved Coriolanus Snow. 

She always had. And she thought he would eventually grow to love her too. But she was foolish to believe that. It was childish to believe they were meant for each other.

Her miserable thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on her door gently. Hastily wiping her tears and fixing her messy hair, she croaked, “Come in.”

She expected it to be her maid, or maybe even one of her friends. Instead, her father walked through the door, holding a tray that held her favorite foods. 

Bellova instantly burst into tears again. 

Julio Reginelle frowned as he saw his normally composed daughter shaking, her knees pulled to her chest. “I heard that you haven’t emerged from your room since arriving home. What happened?”

He placed the tray on her bedside table and sat at the foot of her bed. 

She sniffled. “I don’t know if I should tell you. You’ll be angry at me.” 

He placed a hand on her shoulder gently. “I promise I won’t. It is more important for you to be honest with me.”

Bellova internally winced at the thought of discussing feelings of love with her father. Especially because of exactly who she loved. 

Her father raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to speak. 

With a trembling voice, she confessed what had happened earlier that day. She told him how she’d turned Coriolanus in to the dean, therefore ruining his future career and aspirations. Finally, she told him about her recently realized romantic feelings towards the young Snow heir. 

Her father sighed. “I am not angry at you, Bellova. You are a young woman, feelings are inevitable. I can see why you are angry Coriolanus. He chose someone over you.” She nodded. “And I’m sorry to say this, but no-one with the surname Snow should ever be trusted. His father was a snake too.”

Bellova cocked her head. “How so?”

“Crassus was an arrogant, overconfident fool. He was the most insufferable student at the Academy while we were attending together. If he didn’t have the top score on something, we would hear about it for weeks on end.”

Bellova laughed. That sounded just like Coriolanus. 

“And…” her father paused. “He was the original creator of the Hunger Games.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. Casca Highbottom was distraught when Crassus, his closest friend at the time, took his drunken joke to Dr. Gaul, who embraced the idea immediately. Casca never forgave Crassus, and their friendship was destroyed.”

“How do you know about this? This has got to be one of the most well-kept secrets in Panem.”

Her father gave her a wry smile. “I overheard Crassus bragging about it to his eventual wife. She didn’t seem pleased, but never spoke up against it. I think she was too afraid to.”

Bellova grimaced. She would never let any future husband of hers walk all over her in that way.

“Now, as for you turning Snow in, you did the right thing. Cheating should never go unpunished, especially in something as important as the Hunger Games.”

Bellova leaned back against her pillows. “I know. But in telling the dean, I’ve sent him away forever. I’ll never see him again.”

Her father hummed. “Maybe that’s for the better.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s out of your life now. You can focus on other things: your career, your friends, your other aspirations. He will never be a hindrance to you again.”

Bellova sighed. “You’re right. There’s more to life than a pathetic boy who gave up his future for a district girl.”

Her father smiled. “Exactly right.” He looked over at the tray of food. “Please make sure to eat tonight, you’ll need your strength for tomorrow. I’m permitting you to skip school, because I plan to bring you with me to a conference in the Jubilee Convention Center.”

Bellova smiled. “That sounds lovely, thank you.” 

He stood up, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll leave you to rest now, my dear. Sweet dreams.” 

As soon as her father left, she placed the tray on her lap and began to eat. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until right then. 

After a relaxing evening of self-care, Bellova laid in bed, staring up at her chandelier that twinkled in the moonlight. 

Her love for Coriolanus would die eventually, she was sure of it. It was already starting to fade, slowly being replaced by contempt. He really wasn’t good enough for her. He was no real gentlemen, despite him parading around pretending to be one with his roses and faux charming smile. And he was too sensitive to make it in the world of politics. Sure, he put up a cold facade, but she knew that hurtful words got under his skin easily. 

No matter how handsome or intelligent he was, he’d never be a good match for her. If they were ever to marry, they would fight far too often, and ultimately, it would be a failure. 

Bellova closed her eyes, pulling her soft covers over her body and finally allowing herself to truly relax.

As she slipped into sleep, a quote from one of her favorite novels crossed her mind, making her smile.

“It is snow’s destiny to fall: that is what it is made for.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! This is the end of Part 1, but there will be at least two more parts in the series! Stay tuned for the first installation of Part 2!

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[wildgirllz]

Boyfriend!Dean Winchester headcannons <3

Please leave requests!

Dean loves making Reader breakfast in bed on lazy Sunday mornings, but he always ends up burning the bacon or overcooking the eggs. Reader never has the heart to tell him, so they just enjoy the burnt breakfast together.

Reader is a huge fan of classic rock, and Dean loves to surprise her by playing her favorite songs on the Impala's radio. He'll crank up the volume and sing along, sometimes even dancing in his seat while he drives.

Whenever Reader has a bad day, Dean will make a beeline for the nearest ice cream shop and buy her favorite flavor. They'll curl up on the couch and binge-watch their favorite TV shows while they eat the ice cream straight out of the container.

Reader is a big fan of horror movies, and Dean is more than happy to indulge her by watching them with her. He'll make funny comments throughout the movie to lighten the mood and hold her tight during the scary parts.

Dean loves to surprise Reader with little gifts, like her favorite candy or a book he thinks she'll like. He always has a mischievous grin on his face when he presents the gift, making Reader wonder what he's up to.

Reader is an excellent cook, and Dean loves to watch her in the kitchen. He'll sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder and stealing bites of food as she cooks.

Sometimes, when they're driving around in the Impala, Dean will blast the radio and encourage Reader to sing along. He loves the sound of her voice and thinks she has a beautiful singing voice, even if she's a little shy about it.

Dean is a notorious prankster, and Reader is often the target of his jokes. But she always gets him back in the end, whether it's by putting hot sauce in his food or hiding his favorite shirt.

Despite their different tastes in music, Dean and Reader love to dance together in their living room. They'll put on slow songs and hold each other close, swaying to the music and whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears.

[seriesxwriting]

Leaving me wanting more

Paring- Dean Winchester

Series- supernatural

Warnings- lotta fighting, course it’s the supernatural- that means guns too and ghosts. Kissing, erm might be some swearing it is me we’re talking about.

Summary- you’re introduced to the famous Winchester brothers by their dad on a hunt. Where you connect with Dean quite a lot more than you thought you would. Developing feelings fast, thanks to his dad’s plan all along.

No real timeline in this.

Requests are open my lovelies, any and all characters <3

John drove his car into the run down flat car park and parked it in once of the spaces. “I’m sure this case won’t be easy” he told his sons. “Since when do me and Sammy like easy” Dean chuckled flashing his teeth and cocking his gun.

I recognised the famous car straight away and eyed it up from my car parked in the shadows. I couldn’t really see anyone’s faces so it was lucky I knew the car. My gun was slid into my belt behind my back and I pulled my top down covering it before opening my door and stepping out. Confidently, I walked towards the car in the hope they’d get out and I wouldn’t be standing there awkwardly. I was right, they did. John first of course. I knew he was bringing his two sons but I’d never met them before.

Id heard endless story’s about the famous Winchester brothers who had cheated death multiple times and killed hundreds of demons and the rest of the ugly’s in our world. “Hi darling, are you okay” John came over to hug me. I smiled embracing him back “of course, I always get excited when you call John”. “dad who’s this?” One of them asked as the two brothers stepped out of the car apprehensively. 

He turned to his two sons with a beam “this is y/n, she’s the only daughter of one of my dear friends who passed, I thought I’d call in some back up for this hunt”. “You’re a hunter?” The one with shorter hair raised his eyebrow looking me up and down. “Yeah, do I not fit the description?” I smirked putting my hand on my hip. “Not particularly- never met a hunter that looks like- you” he smirked, his face a tad more comfortable now. “Dean- that’s Sammy” he introduced himself.

I nodded at him “nice to meet you, though I feel like I already do- I’ve heard a lot of stories” “so you’re a fan?” He walked over to me leaning on the car slightly. “I’d use the word impressed, rather than fan” I folded my arms trying to keep his ego in tact. He was even better looking closer up, his eyes were a gorgeous green colour and his smile lit up the dark night that surrounded us. “Enough chitter, we have a case at hand” John nodded towards the block of flats.

Sitting here waiting I’d already analysed every part of the bock. They were clearly run down, needed more than just a lick of paint. They needed to be knocked down. But it was still someone’s home and still my job to save it. We walked inside and went towards the lift. “It’s out of order, we’ll have to use the stairs” Sam stated pointing behind him. So we turned back around and went up the stairs. “What floor is it?” Dean asked John who was at the front of the group and first up the stairs.

“Thirteen” he answered with a smile. “Thirteen! You want me to walk up thirteen staircases?” “Technically there’s two for each floor- so it’s actually twenty six” Sam joked from the back of the group. “I’m sure you’ve faced worst Dean” I giggled turning to look at him. “I’d rather face twenty six demons! with no weapons, than climb this many stairs” he wined as we kept walking. “Don’t wish too hard- we have no clue what we’re walking into here” John warned him.

When we eventually got to the top floor (after Dean had been moaning the whole time and prolonged us) we headed for the door number given to John. He knocked three times before a woman opened the door. We could only see one eye, the chain restricted the door opening fully. “Oh good- I thought you were her again” she breathed closing the door and reopening it with no chain. She was a short woman with a brown bob and big blue eyes. Her lips were thin but were smothered in red lipstick.

Though she was slightly shaking when standing in front of us. “Hi- my names y/n- this is John we spoke to you on the phone” I smiled small just to let her know we were friendly, while I also looked around the apartment. “I’m Vanessa, Come in, come in- thank you for coming” she waved her hand indicating for us to come in, showing her chipped, bitten nails. However what fascinated me more was the rings she had on her finger. One of them looked like it could have been made out of bone, it had an amazing purple crystal on it that almost appeared to be glowing. “This is your house?” Dean questioned looking around. It wasn’t the tidiest, in fact there were bin bags everywhere and bare shelves. It looked like she was getting ready to move out.

“No- no no this was my mothers house, come- shall we sit in the living room I will explain the story” she closed the door and then waddled past us with her finger in her mouth. Me and Dean looked at each other, I could tell he was just as sceptical as I was. John was first in the living room of course, he was sat down opposite her. Dean sat next to his dad and I sat next to Dean leaving Sammy to sit next to the woman. It was probably for the best, I’d heard he was the most sympathetic of the Winchester men.

“So this was your mother’s house? And you don’t live here?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “No I live in England- I flew here for a few weeks to clean out my mums flat because- she passed you see” she bit her lip. But it wasn’t a sad look that flooded her face it was a guilty look. I picked up on this instantly. “You didn’t speak much huh?” I tilted my head, the two brothers looked at me with a confused expression but their attention was soon moved back onto Vanessa. “No we didn’t, she hated me for moving to England- she felt like I was leaving her and- I did- we lost contact, it was my fault but my now husband he didn’t want to move to America so I had no choice” she shrugged clearly tearing up.

“So- why have you called us here Vanessa” Sammy said in a soft voice. “Well you see, when I came here- things started to go wrong, I would pack things into bags and then they would be all put back when Id turn back around” she explained to us. “There’s messages on the mirror when I shower telling me to get out of the house- objects flying across the room trying to hit me- I haven’t been able to get anything done” she shook her head and her bottom lip began trembling.

“Well I think we know what the problem is here” I looked at John who nodded at me. “I just want to pack up so I can sell this place and move on with…” in that moment a loud bang came from the corridor cutting Vanessa off. “Oh not again!” She whimpered into her hands. Me and Dean jumped up but when i opened the door a lady with long grey hair and a long white nighty ran towards me screaming and pushing me backwards. I went flying into Dean who practically caught me. I had to reset quickly because she was still coming.

“ANYONE HAVE SALT?” I shouted dodging her attacks before she disappeared. Vanessa at this point was screaming, John and Sam had jumped up. “Only in the car” John whispered feeling pretty vulnerable in the open like this. We all did. “I have some! In the kitchen” Vanessa got up to go and get it but as soon as she stood, an ornament from the fire place was thrown directly at her. She ducked moaning out in distress and it smashed against the wall. I eyed the door and then made a run for it to the kitchen. “Y/n!” Dean shouted after me but as he ran to the door it swung, slamming shut.

“Y/n!” He shouted pulling the door, however it didn’t budge. I was busy anyway, I ran to the kitchen past all the stuff the ghost had broken in the hallway. She was standing in the kitchen with her head on her shoulder smiling. “You need to leave this place!” I hissed at her slamming my eyebrows down. She raced towards me but I dodge her, she quickly turned and smacked me into the table and chairs. They broke underneath me and so I hit the wall. But the ghost was still there. I got up as fast as I could eyeing the salt in the cupboard that was open.

However, when I reached for it everything in the cupboard flew out at me. I squealed being attacked by a bag of pasta and a tin of carrots, before a package of oats hit me on the side of my face knocking me to the ground. The ghost made a run for me again but I reached for the salt, opened the bottle and chucked it at her. She let out a scream before she disappeared momentarily. I heard the front room door opening before thundering footsteps in the hall way. “Are you okay?” Dean blinked rushing over to help me up. He took my hand and then my hip and I looked up at him when I stood.

Our bodies were basically touching and his arm was around my waist. His eyes drew me in so much I didn’t know what to say. “Y/n?!” John rushed, so he could get an answer from me. I nodded pulling away from Dean but patting him on the chest. “Yeah I’m fine thank you” I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear nervously. I got her with the salt. Sam and Vanessa walked in looking at the mess on the floor. “My goodness- my mother is the one trying to hurt me” she winced again covering her mouth with shock. “In my opinion Vanessa- your mum doesn’t want you to move her stuff out” I told her softly.

“And as you didn’t have a great relationship I’m guessing she doesn’t want you taking her stuff or even being in her house” “but she left it to me” she shook her head confused about the situation. “Y/n is right, she doesn’t want you here” John validated, giving me a nod. “Perhaps she couldn’t change her will- but she definitely wants you gone” Dean nodded to Vanessa. “So what do we do?” She trembled looking to John for an answer. “Well first we need…” Sam started talking but his father cut him off. “Y/n, show us how it’s done” John raised his eyebrows at me.

Any case I went on with him he’d give me more and more responsibilities, but never full control. My smiled turned into a grin and I threw him a knowing look. “Where was your mother buried Vanessa?” I turned to her, “um- just across town in the Catholic Church graveyard” “and her name?” I raised an eyebrow. “Dorthy gale- how ever will that help us?” “We need to burn her body, that will get rid of her once and for all” I explained feeling pretty confident in what I was saying. I was a pretty good hunter but it was a natural thing rather than a learning thing.

I could fight but the information was always harder for me to attain. John helped me quite a lot and of course my other hunter friends. But I still studied quite a lot on my own. “We should split up- two of us will go and burn the bones and two of us will stay here incase Dorthy comes back” I looked to John for validation and he smiled eying his son next to me. “You and Dean should go to the graveyard- me and Sam will stay here” he nodded at Dean who looked like he was taking this very seriously.

“Here” I passed the bottle of salt to Sam. “You can make a circle in the front room” “yeah, and we will look for any iron” he nodded to his dad who liked the plan. We all started moving to go to our stations but as me and Dean went to leave John called out his name. “You look after her okay” he smacked his son on the back. “She’s my top priority” he nodded once. “She is” he agreed before walking off to the living room. Dean put a hand on my back as we exited the front door, to gently move me.

“Any idea why my dad paired us up?” He raised an eyebrow at me with a smirk. “Maybe he thought you needed my protection” I shrugged laughing “or maybe he’s bored of you so he chose a different pair” “oi” I laughed hitting him on the chest as we descended the stairs. He was a lot more chatty and a lot less winey on the way down. “So you’re dad? What was his name?” “Oh I didn’t know my dad- he left before I was born” I smiled innocently, not really caring because I’d never known anything different. “So- my dad and your mum were friends”.

“Uh huh, they met on a case- she was almost a victim of a vampire attack but he saved her and taught her what’s really out there” I explained as we got into deans car. “So she became a hunter?” “No- she kept her job as a lawyer but she knew- so she was prepared- she taught me everything John taught her I do think she secretly went on a few hunts behind my back but nothing I remember” I shrugged thinking about her. “Do you mind me asking how she passed?” He looked across to me sadly. “No- it was a demon, it came for her hunter friend and she was collateral damage I suppose- I came home from a friends house to my front door being open and the scene in the dining room”.

“I noticed it wasn’t human so I called some of her other hunter friends and- one of them must have told John because he came- he was really good to me” I explained thinking back to the incident. A smiled crossed my face because if I didn’t think about the good, I’d cry about the bad. “I’m sorry” Dean rubbed my thigh as he drove. I put my hand on his and traced it with my thumb. “You don’t have to be, I’ll see her again one day, I have the memories of her and I fight for her everyday- eradicating as many of these things as I can to avenge her”.

“You’re brave- I like your attitude” he told me with a smile as we parked in the church. “Well now you know my story” I shrugged looking across at him. “She’d be proud of you” he nodded seriously at me, I could tell it had reminded him of his own mother. “Mary would be proud of you too Dean” I beamed before getting out the car. Dean grabbed two shovels from his boot of tricks and we headed to find her grave. We said whoever’s first gets to drop the lighter but Dean found it first and made sure I knew about it. He just made me laugh the whole time. Maybe I was starting to feel a little something for him.

It didn’t take us very long to dig it up, he dropped the lighter of course but he let me pour the petrol. And we stood there for a few seconds, just watching the flames eat her bones. “Id hate to be this vengeful when I pass” I whispered to him. “You won’t be” he shook his head rubbing my back as I stared into the pit of hell. “Would you burn my bones for me Dean- if I did” I put my pinky finger out to him. He looked at it chuckling before pinky promising me. “You have to do the same for me though” “it’s a pact” I nodded with a big smile looking into his eyes again.

Even though it was dark they still shone through the shadows at me. We were still holding our pinky’s together as we stared at each other. His other hand came up to my face and he brushed my cheek softly. I moved my head forward and with that I saw a panic spread in his eyes. “I should- call my dad- tell him it’s done” Dean nodded trying to find his phone in a fit. “Yeah- you should do that uh huh” I nodded awkwardly putting my hair behind my ear. I was glad it was dark because my face had probably turned very red by now.

Dean let John know what we had done and we made our way back to the car in silence. But all I could think about was that moment between us. The way he looked when the moonlight shone on the side of his gorgeous face. The silence between us wasn’t awkward it was just, sad. Something was telling me we both wanted it to be a moment but something we couldn’t control was stopping us. Deans phone rang distracting my thought process. “Dad?” He answered confused about why he was ringing. “What are you talking about? We just burnt the bones?” Dean frowned, knitting his eyebrows together.

“I don’t know- we’ll be back in a second” he ended the phone call and put the gas on harder. “Dean?” I questioned “she’s not dead” he answered gritting his teeth together. “What- how can’t she be dead I don’t…” I trailed off thinking. “I don’t know- we got all the bones” dean tutted getting pissed off by the situation. “No- we didn’t” I shook my head as we drove into the apartment blocks again. I flung open the door and he followed. “Grab the salt gun” “y/n! What are you talking about?” Dean questioned as he threw open his boot. “Vanessa’s ring- it’s made of bone I’m sure it is”.

“Her ring?” Dean repulsed as he closed his boot and ran towards the entrance doors. “I saw it when we came in- that has to be why dorthy is still there” I shook my head positive in what I was saying. I was always a very observant hunter. There wasn’t any time to talk this trip up the stairs. We ran as fast as we could. I pounded on the front door but it wasn’t opened by anyone when it creaked ajar. The apartment was silent, I looked to Dean apprehensively before a loud bang came from the bedroom. “Sammy!” Dean yelled in search for his brother, running past me. “Bedroom!” Sam called before another bang came.

Vanessa was there and John too being cornered by this thing. “There was no iron” Sammy called out. Dean shot Dorothy instantly with the salt gun and she vanished. “Vanessa” I called out “your ring, the purple one- what’s it made out of” “uh- uh it’s my mother’s finger bone- I wanted to keep her close all the time so I had this made just after her burial” she bit her lip spinning it on her finger. “So we did miss a bone” John realised peering at the ring. “I take it you need to burn this” she slid it off clutching it to her heart. “Goodbye mum” she whispered before plodding over to me.

Dean took his lighter out but as he did I was pushed out into the hall way and I dropped the ring. Dorthy was back. I scrambled up while Dean tried shooting her again. It had rolled into the kitchen and I leaped to clutch it in my hands. I looked around setting my eyes on the gas stove. I turned the knob on it seeing the flame rise. In that moment the ghost appeared in front of me making a run for me. I dropped the ring in the fire and she let out an ear splitting scream. The group ran into the kitchen as the ghost caught fire and eventually, vanished for good this time.

“Is it over?” Vanessa blinked in a state of shock. I nodded looking at the ash of the ring now on the cooker. Dean came over to me putting his gun on the side and rubbing my back. I laid my head on his chest taking it all in while he comforted me. “You’re so brave” he whispered to me. “Thanks for having my back” I smiled up at him. We eventually said our goodbyes to Vanessa who thanked us and even dove into her purse giving us a fair share of money for our work. We told her it wasn’t necessary but she insisted. The walk down the stairs was silent and I took a deep breath of fresh air when we got outside.

“I never wanna see them steps again” Dean huffed making Sammy laugh at him. “It was nice to meet you y/n” Sam reached out to shake my hand. “Mmh likewise, I can’t wait to tell this story the next time someone brings you two up” I giggled behind my hand. “It was a pleasure” he chuckled before walking off to his car. John came over to hug me goodbye. “Always nice working with you y/n” he breathed squeezing me. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me John” I whispered hugging him tightly back. “You don’t need to thank me sweetheart, you stay strong yeah, I’m sure I’ll see you soon” he pulled away but still kept a hand on my back to rub it.

I nodded a few times before turning to Dean who looked like he was waiting patiently. “Well” I sighed smiling, waking over to him. “You ever need help on a hunt- feel free to call me” “I just might take you up on that Dean Winchester” I giggled tucking my hair behind my ear, but I knew I was lying. “Goodbye y/n” he wrapped his arms around me holding me tightly. “It was nice meeting you Dean” I swallowed against his chest. Something tugged in my heart when we walked away in different directions. Something that could have been will never be and so I got back into my car, and they got into theirs.

“What do you think of her?” John smiled at his sons but focused his attention on Dean. “Yeah she’s great, a good hunter- she’ll be really skilled one day” Sammy emphasised from the back seat. Dean kept quiet. “Dean?” “Yeah I agree- with what Sam said” he nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “You seemed to connect quite a bit” “yeah she’s cool, knows what she’s doing” “so… anything else?” John smirked trying to him something. “Dad I don’t get what you’re trying to get at?” Dean shrugged his shoulders again but in more of a stroppy way. “Oh my gosh” he put his hands on his face. “Did you like her Dean” Sam rolled his eyes chuckling in the back.

“What no- that would be disrespectful to you dad I wouldn’t do that”. John frowned shaking his head “why do you think I invited her on this case? I wanted you two to meet- I think you’d be good for each other”. Out the corner of deans eye he saw my car pull out the apartment car park. “You- wanted to set us up?” Dean rose his eyebrow watching my car. “Yeah” John widened his eyes. “You should have given her your number- instead of just empty promises you didn’t plan on keeping” John rolled his eyes laughing. “But- I thought you’d be fuming” “no Dean” he laughed shaking his head.

“Dad- please- catch up with her!” Dean pointed to my car flying down the road. “Yeah?” “Yes- I need to tell her I like her!” He frantically thrusted his hand toward my direction. John started the car up and sped out and down the road following me. It didn’t take them long to catch up with me. I saw John indicate on a lay by and did the same thing, assuming they wanted to say something to me. Dean jumped out the car and ran toward me. “Did you forget something?” I questioned opening my door.

“Yeah- to give my my number and ask you the time I’m picking you up for our date?” “What- are you talking about” I half smiled probably going red again. “I’m sorry I pulled away- I didn’t think my father would appreciate me making a move on you- but I like you y/n, I know you were lying you were never going to call me because I pulled away but I want you to” “I’ll take your number Dean- and you can pick me up on Saturday- at seven” I smiled passing him my phone. “Sounds good, looking forward to it” he grinned typing in his number and then passing it back. “Do you know what else I will have though Dean?” I smiled leaning in closer to him.

“That kiss that you owe me”. He chuckled putting his hand on my cheek and rubbing it before he leant down and met my lips. His were soft, he was gentle with me which I wasn’t expecting for such a big man. My cheeks burned red across from his as we met with the exact same rhythm. “You definitely left me wanting more Dean Winchester” I smiled up at him. “I’ll see you Saturday gorgeous” he whispered quickly kissing me on the lips again.

“Can’t wait” I waved as he was walking back to his car. What the fuck. Hold on, rewined.

I’m going on a date with THEE Dean Winchester.

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[pascaloverx]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

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PREVIEW

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR (+18)

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

HIATUS (FINAL CHAPTER)

FINAL CHAPTER

[lachelledavies-winchester]

"You're wearing me out, baby. The chupa chups move the other day was so unfair."

"Don't call me baby," she warned him, but his hand on her butt distracted her and she went back on the attack. "Too bad I had something bigger in mind."

The man returned the piercing stare as he saw her slowly descend, kneeling down and unbuttoning his belt with a bold smirk.

"What's on your mind?"

"What does it look like to you? I'm helping a friend get distracted."

"Far be it from me to refuse, but if they come in..."

"Then I see you are already distracted enough not to have noticed that I closed the hook."

The woman could feel the heat of his greedy gaze making her skin burn; she could no longer hold back all that excitement, she needed to let off steam.

"Come on, no porn dialogue? You know I'm not amused." she provoked him, and he smiled.

"Look what you've done. Why don't you fix the problem with that pretty little mouth?"

"No, I don't want to." she grumbled in a high-pitched voice but continued to curl a few strands with a finger and smile mischievously to let him know she was playing along. 

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear; did you think I would let you be a little slut without consequences?" the hunter's voice was almost a grunt, and those words made her skin crawl with excitement. 

He gave her a softer look, and she smiled to reassure him that it was okay with her. 

"I'm not the type to let you do something that I don't want. It's your turn to show me how you like it."

With a sharp gesture he pushed her head forward to his erection.

"Good girl, take it all." he first gave her a few slaps on the cheek.

"I don't know what to do, sir. I never have."

"Oh no?" the man whispered with effort.

He took to rubbing and slamming his member on the provocative face of the woman, who kept waiting for him with her tongue out.

"Oh, do you see you're good? Let me see what you can do with that tongue." he gasped as he watched her work on him without taking his eyes off her. 

The red-hot flattened tongue brushed each spot as he took it out of her mouth, then descended slowly and helped herself with one hand so as not to overlook anything.

"How good you are." he whispered to her, enjoying the sensation of her moist mouth swallowing his length, caressing her face and gathering her hair to one side.

He raised his head and stared at the ceiling, squinting his eyes from the pleasure that was making him let out increasingly loud moans.

"You idiot, they can hear you even in Canada like this." "Please continue." he moaned and with a hand on her head pulled her to him; he loved being in control, it gave him the feeling that not all of life was at the mercy of events he couldn't handle, and she liked to have someone else tell her what to do from, but she liked surrendering dominance as much as having it and she was certain that at that point she had the upper hand-literally.

"Now tell me 'I lost, you won.'"

"What a son of a bitch."

"I'm waiting." she urged. The Winchester closed his eyes as she continued, more ruthless than ever, rising and falling on his ledge slowly and forcing him to gasp out one moan after another. "Say it." 

"All right, you win." he blurted out and took to thrusting his pelvis to independently manage the rhythm until he burst with pleasure, but managed to pull out before he finished, a gesture that Lachelle could not help but register, appreciating it as much as she appreciated that he had continually asked her permission with even a glance, making her feel the urge to try without disrespecting her.

[spnhunter4life]

So Long Chapter 5

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I finally managed to write a shorter chapter! I struggled with this one a little bit. It didn’t come as easily as the other chapters have so far. I’m not 100% happy with it, but here it is. Hopefully everyone will still enjoy it. As always, thanks to everyone who has supported this story so far and left a like!

I’m sure everyone is waiting for Jenna and Dean to finally get together. All I have to say to that is... we’re getting closer! I did warn everyone in the summary that it took a long time for them to figure things out.

As for the second version of this story I mentioned last week, I will start posting it next week. It will update on Tuesday and Thursday.

Series Masterlist

Moving on You and I started looking back Now we’ve got to make up For all the wasted time

Ages 14 and 16 February 5, 1995

Walking down the hall with the only friend I’d made at this school in the three weeks we’d been here, I laughed at the story she was telling about her brother and his mishap with a pair of scissors and a desire for a new haircut. I was about to counter with a story about Sam and Dean’s latest prank war and a bottle of shampoo when I stopped in my tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked, confused. She looked to where I was staring and understanding crossed her face. “You kind of like him, right?”

That was a bit of an understatement. I ‘kind of like him’ the way an alcoholic ‘kind of likes’ their drink of choice, the way a fish ‘kind of likes’ the water. 

I knew how ridiculous it was to pine for a guy who saw me as a friend at best, more likely sister, but I couldn’t seem to convince my stupid heart to get over it. I managed to close my slightly open mouth and look away from where Dean was making out with the head cheerleader.

“He turned sixteen a couple of weeks ago. You don’t think she’s…” I stopped, not able to complete that thought.

“His soulmate?” Abby finished. “I don’t know. Maybe. He didn’t tell you what her name is? You guys live together don’t you?”

“No.” I said vaguely, lost in thought.

“No… what?” she asked.

“Sorry,” I sighed, giving her my full attention. “No, he didn’t tell me what name showed up. He’s kind of private. Doesn’t like talking about anything involving feelings. And yeah, I guess we kind of live together. Our dads work together, so we end up moving to the same places a lot.”

“Well there’s really no reason to think she’s the one. Just because he has his soulmate’s name now doesn’t mean he won’t be interested in anyone else until he meets her,” she reasoned. I must not have looked convinced because she continued. “Is this typical for him? I mean, does he usually flirt and go on dates and occasionally show a little too much PDA?” She asked, wrinkling her nose as she looked in their direction again.

“All the girls are always interested in him. And he definitely notices. And likes it. So yeah, this is pretty typical I guess,” I told her.

“Ok, well then I definitely wouldn’t worry about it. If he didn’t usually do this type of thing, then I’d say there was likely a reason for the sudden change in behavior. But if it’s normal, then don’t read anything into it.”

I knew she was right, and even if she wasn’t, I had no reason to be jealous. In a year and a half, I’d get my own soulmate’s name. If I hadn’t moved on by then, hopefully that would be enough to convince my traitorous heart it wasn’t meant to be.

Ages 16 and 17 December 11, 1996

"Oh good, you're back." I called to my dad when I heard the door to our room close behind me. "I was just leaving you a note," I told him, dropping the pen I'd been using and turning to face him. "Oh. Dean. I thought you were my dad."

"So I gathered," he said, looking over my outfit. "You look nice," he said. "Why do you look nice?" He continued before I could thank him for the compliment. 

"Uh… I'm going out with some friends. What's up?" I asked, a little distracted as I finished the note for Dad.

"Well I just came to see if you wanted to do something tonight. I guess not though. What friends exactly?" He questioned, sitting on the table next to where I was writing.

“The usual ones,” I told him, finishing the note and moving to the bathroom to double check my hair.

“Try again,” Dean said as he followed me.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“You’re not going out with friends dressed like that,” he said.

I looked at my outfit in the mirror. I didn’t see anything objectionable about the tan sweater and black leggings combo.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I asked. 

“Nothing. I already told you, you look nice. I’m just saying that’s not what you usually wear to hang out with friends,” he said pointedly.

“And I can’t try something new?” I snapped. I left the bathroom, pushing past where he stood in the doorway and grabbed my coat off my bed.

“Why are you getting so defensive?” Dean asked.

“Why are you suddenly so worried about who I hang out with?” I shot back. 

“I’m not worried about it. But it’s a date, right? I just don’t understand why you couldn’t just tell me that. Why lie about it?” he wondered.

I sighed. I felt bad about snapping at him. I didn’t mean to, I was just feeling really anxious about tonight. Dean wasn’t entirely right about the date thing, but he wasn’t entirely wrong either. I was following Bailey’s advice. She’d told me to either get it over with and make a move with Dean or move on. 

So, I was moving on. Or pretending to. I was making an effort at least. 

“It wasn’t a lie,” I told him. “I am going out with Bailey and Dylan.” I peeked out the window to see if they were here yet.

“So… it’s not a date,” he said, somewhere between a statement and a question. “It’s just you going out with a couple of friends?”

“Not exactly,” I said, going to sit on my bed while I waited.

“Then what is it, Jenna?” He asked as he came to sit beside me. “This is a yes or no question. Why can’t you just give me a straight answer?”

“It’s… a double date, I guess,” I told him.

“Ok,” he said calmly. “And Dylan is your date?” he asked.

“What?” I asked, surprised. “No. Dylan and Bailey are dating.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that,” he said. “So who’s your date?”

I couldn’t decide how I felt about this conversation. While I was comfortable talking to Dean about anything, boys was a topic we’d never covered before. Mostly because there’d been no reason to. There had never been any boys I was interested in and wanted to talk about. Never in more than a friend way at least. 

Dean was being very casual about it. More than I expected. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that, but I was thinking I didn’t like it. I wouldn’t have minded him being the slightest bit upset about it. I had been expecting it, really. He was usually so protective. 

“His name is Jake,” I answered.

Dean pursed his lips, thinking for a minute before responding.

“Can I ask you something and have you promise not to get mad at me? Because I’m not trying to be a jerk, I just really want to know,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed a little warily. I had no idea where he might be going with this.

“Do you even like this guy?” he asked. “Because you don’t seem very excited.” 

“Well… to be honest, I’m not really,” I admitted.

“Then why are you going?” he asked. I sighed.

“Because the problem is that I don’t really know him. And isn’t that the point of a date? To get to know someone?” I pointed out.

“I guess so,” Dean agreed. “But usually people go out with someone they’re interested in.”

“I told you I don’t really know him. How could I know if I’m interested yet?” 

“You don’t have to know someone to know you’re interested. Haven’t you ever met someone and known right away you wanted to get to know them better? Because you found them attractive or because even from a short conversation you could tell you would get along?” He asked.

“No. Not really,” I said.

“Never?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No,” I repeated. “I’ve just never really been interested in anyone.”

“Oh,” was all Dean said in response. I couldn’t quite read the tone of this voice or the expression on his face.

Feeling a little awkward, I stood up and walked over to check out the window again. They still weren’t here.

“You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Dean said from where he was still sitting on the bed.

“Yes I do. They’re on their way to pick me up right now. Too late to back out. Besides,” I told him as I went to sit beside him again. “I always like hanging out with Bailey and Dylan. And they like Jake and think we’ll get along. I trust them. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“Then why do you look like you’re dreading it?” Dean asked.

“I’m not dreading it,” I told him. “Really, I’m not.” I insisted when he just gave me a look. “I’m just… nervous I guess. Regardless of whether I like him or not, it’s always weird for me to spend time with someone I don’t really know. So I guess I’m just anxious about that.”

“In that case, I hope you have fun,” he said with a small smile. He sounded sincere, but it also seemed a little forced. 

Before I could think very long on what that meant, there was a honk from right outside the door.

“There’s some leftover stroganoff in the fridge you can have if you want it. Just make sure to leave enough for my dad,” I told Dean as I grabbed my purse and slipped on my coat. “See you later,” I said as I opened the door.

“See you later,” I heard him echo as the door closed behind me.

~~~~~

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bailey teased. We had just dropped Jake off at his house and were headed to the motel now. 

“I never said it would be bad,” I replied.

“Maybe not in so many words. But I could tell you weren’t happy about it,” she said.

“Look,” I sighed. “I understand what you’re saying. About moving on. But it’s not that easy,” I told her.

“It’s not easy to move on from the person you’ve been into for half your life?” Dylan asked with a smirk, looking at me in the rearview mirror. I frowned at him.

Bailey turned in her seat to look at me. 

“Obviously you’re not going to get over it overnight. We wouldn’t expect that. And to be completely honest…” she trailed off, looking to Dylan. He thought about it for a second before nodding at her to continue.

“We don’t really expect you to get over him at all,” she said.

“Then what was the point of tonight?” I asked, frustrated. I’d had fun and Jake was a nice enough guy, but I definitely wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship with him. All they had really accomplished tonight was making the next few days at school awkward every time I ran into Jake if he didn’t feel the same way I did. And I honestly couldn’t tell what he thought.

“You said you’d never been on a date before, right?” Bailey asked.

“Right…” I said, dragging out the word, confused about where this was going.

“We just thought it might make Dean jealous. Or at least make him realize if he didn’t make a move, someone else eventually would,” she explained.

“So what you’re saying is you lied to me. But it was to help me?” I questioned.

“Yeah. Well that’s the hope anyway,” Bailey said. 

“What about Jake?” I asked, a little annoyed. I could have told them this plan wouldn’t work and saved everyone the trouble. I did appreciate that they were trying though. “Did he know it wasn’t a real date?”

“He didn’t think it was a date at all,” Dylan replied. “We just told him we were planning on hanging out and asked him to join.”

“Thanks guys. I know you meant well, but I wish you would have just told me. This isn’t going to change anything with Dean,” I told them.

“Why don’t you wait until you get back to decide that. See how he reacts first,” Bailey said.

“I don’t need to. You realize Dean goes on a lot of dates with a lot of girls, right?” I asked.

“So you’ve said,” Bailey sighed. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Well he’s never shown any interest in me. Not like that anyway,” I said.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you’d actually notice if he did,” Dylan countered.

“Look,” I said tiredly. “I know you want to help. But you’ve got to just let it go. Every day I work on keeping my emotions under control. I’m constantly reminding myself not to read into things and not to get my hopes up. It’s hard enough as it is. Having you two always telling me how you think he likes me… well it gets my hopes up despite my best efforts. And letting yourself hope is how you get hurt when things don’t go the way you want. So can you please just leave it alone?” 

“We didn’t mean to make things harder or overstep,” Dylan said. “You just talk about him so much, we wanted to–”

“To help, I know,” I cut in. “I appreciate it. And as for talking about him… well there’s not much in my life worth talking about, so I guess he just comes up a lot. I’ll try to stop though.”

“No, you don’t have to stop,” Bailey insisted. 

“I should though. It’s not helping things either,” I said.

“Neither is keeping your feelings bottled up. We’ll back off. I promise. But only if you keep talking about him when you want to. The way you always have with us,” she bargained.

“Deal,” I agreed with a smile. It would be really hard having to leave this town. I’d never had such great friends.

“But just out of curiosity,” she continued as Dylan pulled up to the motel and parked. “On Monday will you let us know how he reacts tonight?” she asked.

“He came over before you guys picked me up. We talked about it a little. He just said to have fun,” I told them.

They frowned a little at this, clearly not happy that there hadn’t been more of a reaction. They didn’t say anything more about it though.

“I guess we’ll see you Monday,” Dylan said as I got out of the car.

“Yeah. Thanks for driving,” I said. I closed the car door and waved as they backed out of the parking lot before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

Dad was sitting at the table, writing in his case journal. 

“Hey kiddo,” he greeted, looking up from the book. “How was your night?”

“It was good,” I told him. “When did you get back?”

“About an hour ago,” he answered.

“Did you get something to eat?” I asked as I made my way to the bathroom to shower. That’s when I noticed Dean. He was sprawled out on the couch, looking at me over the back of it. There was an episode of Scooby Doo playing on low volume.

“Yeah, I did,” Dad answered before going back to writing.

“Hey,” Dean said when I stopped beside him. “How’d it go?”

“It was fine. We just got something to eat and then went bowling. Nothing too exciting,” I told him.

“Did you have fun?” He asked. I wondered if I detected something under his casual tone, but I couldn’t tell for sure so I just ignored it.

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t think I’ll be going on any more dates with Jake though,” I answered.

“Why not? Did he do something?” 

“No, of course not. We just didn’t really hit it off,” I said.

“That’s… too bad?” He questioned. I smiled.

“Not really. What are you doing here, by the way?” I asked as I grabbed my bag.

“Sam was hogging the TV so I just figured I’d hang out here for the night. I assume that’s ok with you?” Dean asked teasingly.

“Of course. As long as you don’t mind sharing when I’m done showering,” I said.

“I think I can manage that,” he smiled. I showered quickly and then Dean and I watched Scooby Doo reruns until we were too tired to stay up any longer.

Ages 22 and 24 April 16, 2003

The bar we were at was getting crowded as happy hour hit its peak and patrons steadily trickled in. The large room was filled with the drone of many voices and the clinking of glasses and bottles. The table I was sitting at was slightly sticky from drinks spilled earlier in the night. 

Dean and I were in Nebraska. We had just finished a hunt with Eric and Penny, two friends Dean had made in the years we were separated, and the four of us were celebrating the win. Or at least, we were supposed to be.

Dean was chatting up the blonde that had walked in the door fifteen minutes ago. She was wearing a skin tight tank top that showed off her ample curves and a pair of what might have been the shortest shorts I’d ever seen. It hadn’t taken him long to notice her at the bar and immediately announce that he was going to get refills. 

“So, um,” I started, clearing my throat a little as I turned my eyes away from the bar and back to our table. “How did you two meet?” I asked. 

The two hunters were happily engaged soulmates. I hadn’t really had time to get to know them that well while we were working, so I was trying to remedy that now.

“I met Eric for the first time while he was working a case,” Penny said.

“And you were working the same job?” I guessed. It didn’t happen a lot, but as had been the case with mine and Dean’s dads, sometimes hunters ended up working the same case by coincidence. 

“No, actually I was the case,” she said.

“You were? What happened?” I asked, confused. I knew she was human. So how could she have been so caught up in something that Eric came after her?

“There was this ghost,” Eric continued, picking up her story. “A real nasty one. It was actually possessing people. By the time I got to town it was riding around in this beautiful thing,” he said, smiling at his fiancee. 

“He saved your life,” I said with a smile.

“He did,” she confirmed. “After that, learning what kinds of things are out there, I couldn’t go back to normal. I had no one and nothing I needed to stick around for. And we realized pretty quickly that we were soulmates. So I’ve been with him ever since.”

“That’s really great. You guys are lucky,” I told them just as I heard Dean’s loud laugh coming from the bar. I turned to look at him. He and blondie were sitting close to each other. She had her hand resting on his bicep and he had what I considered his flirty bedroom eyes out in full force.

“How did you get started hunting Eric?” I asked, frowning a little as I turned back to them.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told me.

“I’m not worried about it. I was just curious. Although, I realize I probably shouldn’t have asked. That’s usually not a happy story. Sorry, I’m not really used to meeting other hunters,” I rambled, hoping I hadn’t offended him. 

“No, not that. I’ll tell you about it if you want. It’s really not an exciting story. What I meant was, I wouldn’t worry about Dean,” he said. 

“Dean?” I asked, feigning ignorance as I felt my cheeks flush slightly at my lack of subtlety. Thankfully the lighting was poor enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable. “I’m not worried about him either. Just wondering when he’s going to actually bring our drinks back.”

They shared a quick look. Penny put her arms on the table, leaning closer to me, causing the arm Eric had slung around her shoulders to fall away.

“Let me ask you something,” she said. “What do you see when you look over there?” She asked, nodding her head in Dean’s direction.

“I see–” I started.

“No. Look at him and tell me what you see,” she instructed.

We stared each other down for a while, me looking for an explanation, her daring me to do what she said. Finally I sighed and gave in. Turning around, I looked at Dean again. It was exactly what I expected to see.

“I see Dean. Flirting with a girl. Not bringing us the drinks he promised,” I deadpanned.

“You want to know what I see?” She didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “I see him putting on a show.”

“What are you talking about?” I questioned.

“We may not know Dean as well as you, but we know him well enough,” Eric said. “I’ve seen him pick up girls before. This is different.”

“How so?” I asked, so curious to figure out what they meant that I forgot I was supposed to be pretending not to care.

“I don’t have a good way to explain it to you. But there’s a difference. He’s flirting, sure, but there’s no real intent behind it. It’s like he’s not trying to pick her up, he’s just going through the motions,” he explained.

“Then why has he spent the last 20 minutes with her?” I asked pointedly, turning back around in my seat.

“Why do you know how long it’s been?” Eric countered. 

I didn’t have a good answer to that. Thankfully Penny jumped in.

“Let me ask you something else,” she said. “How long have you guys been hunting together?”

“Just the two of us?” I asked. She nodded. “Uh… a little over a year.” I answered.

“And in that time, has he ever gone home with anyone? Even once?” 

I thought about it. He hadn’t brought anyone home. Since we always shared a room, I would have been very aware of that. I would have noticed if he didn’t come home one night too. And I couldn’t remember him ever not being around. I would remember if he had. I would have either been worried because I didn’t know where he was or annoyed because I did know where he was.

“No, I guess not,” I said, surprised at the realization. 

“Something to think about,” she said. 

“Oh good, you didn’t forget about us,” Eric teased Dean when he brought our drinks just a few seconds later.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Dean asked as he set our beers down. “I was just asked to deliver some drinks.”

“Whatever,” Eric said. “Did you get her number?”

“Nah. Not really my type,” Dean replied. 

Someone nudged my foot under the table. I looked up to see Penny looking at me with a small smile. Think about it, she mouthed at me. 

So I did. I thought back on the year I’d spent with Dean. I remembered how many girls he could have been with, but hadn’t. It made me happier than I wanted to admit. But what was the reason for it? Why was Dean – ladies man, impulsive flirt, and best looking guy in any given room – going home alone every night? I couldn’t come up with an explanation, so I let it go and just enjoyed the rest of the night.

Chapter 6

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Negan comes across your ex Joel Miller, who happens to still have feelings for you and decides to make him jealous.]

Some smut, jealousy

“Negan it was long ago, it doesn’t matter”

“Does it? Cause the way he looked at you said a lot different, better yet-“ he turned you around to face him.

“The way you looked at him said a lot different”

Negan and Jane

“I found someone who could help you two,” Tommy said to Joel and Ellie.

“His name is Negan, he’s got a car you guys can use.“

“Im listening” Joel responded.

“He has a sanctuary not too far ahead, we haven’t had any problems so far. We just met him but we’ve traded a few things. For the car he wants more weapons”

“I ain’t giving up any more of my damn weapons” Joel was stubborn making Ellie rub her forehead.

“Joel, this is the only way to get to where you want to go. My car isn’t going to last much longer. I got no other options for you” Tommy explained. It was obvious Joel wasn’t too happy of the idea but gave in.

Sitting with Negan in the kitchen, you were both interrupted with Simon coming in letting you know the man he was waiting for was there.

“Who’s he talking about?” You asked as Negan quickly got up walking out ahead of you.

“Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart” he responded as you tried to keep up with him.

“Since when don’t you tell me things?”

“Cause this isn’t important” his response was a bit snobby as he opened the doors of the room walking inside.

“So what, I’d still like to know” you walked in beside him looking straight at who was in front of you. A shock making you take a stumble back as Negan looked at you strangely, watching as you stared at the man before you in a way he’d never seen.

“Jane?” Negan furrowed his brows before looking at the man in front of you and realizing he had the same look. It had been so long since you had seen Joel, his hair had touches of grey, yet he still looked like the Joel you knew.

Negan cleared his throat stepping in front of you making Joel look up at him. Looking over at Simon, Negan smirked as he took a step forward.

“Pardon me, but it seems by that holy shit look on your face that you just might know my lady”

Your heart was racing, you knew Negan was a jealous man.

“He’s- he’s an old friend” you quickly came out beside him. Taking a deep breath he looked over at you, gently caressing your face.

“Baby, you know I don’t like it when you lie to me” his tone was calm yet still made you nervous, more for Joel.

“My ex fiancée” Joel’s voice made you both look his way as Negans hand dropped from your face. His brother Tommy beside him with a young girl you had never seen beforem intrigued by what was going on.

“Is that right?” Negan raised his brows as he stepped closer to him. You knew what Negan was capable of and could feel your heart pounding outside of your chest. Joel didn’t look away, chin high showing no fear as he stared Negan right in his eyes.

Very much like Joel to do so.

What felt like forever in silence, Negan suddenly laughed and turned back to you.

“Well let’s help your friends out, shall we?” You could sense the sarcasm in his tone, you left the room quickly feeling uneasy. Negan remained still with a grin staring at Joel.

“I think this is gonna be fun” His grin disappearing into a threatening look before leaving the room.

“This is what cha bought me to?” Joel turned to his brother.

“I had no idea Joel, I swear.”

“Your ex fiancée huh” Ellie raised her brows.

“Don’t” Joel snapped.

“I ain’t staying here we’ll find another way” before he could get to the door Tommy stopped him.

“There’s no other way Joel, just take what help you get, they got a place for you to sleep tonight. Just stay” Joel was pissed, he knew his brother was right but the last thing he wanted was to stay around seeing the woman he still loved with another man.

Going through the cabinets pretending to be looking for something you heard Negan walk in behind you. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel him quietly observing you, walking up behind.

“Ex fiancé huh?”

You sighed looking down as he moved closer.

“Negan it was long ago, it doesn’t matter”

“Does it? Cause the way he looked at you said a lot different, better yet-“ he turned you around to face him.

“The way you looked at him said a lot different” he flared his nostrils looking down at you.

“It was nothing-“

“You sure about that?” He leaned his face closer making you back away. He took a deep breath in frustration and looked away.

“I’m going to bed” you pushed past him leaving the room.

Heading to the room Negan found Joel walking into the room across his and chuckled to himself. He knew exactly why he had Joel placed there.

In bed facing your back to the door you heard Negan step inside and lock the door. His boots could be heard walking from one side of the room to the other until he finally got into the bed behind you.

“Darling” he whispered close to your ear wrapping his arm around you.

“I’m sorry” he kissed your neck.

“It’s just…I can get a little” he kissed you again.

“Angry…when a man looks at you a certain way..”

“Well there’s no need to” you finally responded feeling yourself grow weak by his breath against your skin.

“Look at me” he turned your face up to him.

“Do you love that man?”

“No” you swallowed nervously, at least you didn’t think you did. Negan didn’t say another word and instead kissed you, turning your whole body to him he got on top of you and pushed your legs apart placing himself in between. The only thing seperating you both was the very thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers.

“Tell me you’re all mine” he looked deeply into your eyes as he reached between you.

“I am all yours” you whispered as you felt him slide your underwear to the side and begin to penetrate you.

Joel lay back in his bed wondering what the hell he got himself into. His hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling before hearing a sound coming from across the hall.

Joel knew exactly what that sound was, how could he not? He sat up in disbelief. The sound of your moans echoing in the hall, he was pissed.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me” he stood up in the room pacing back and fourth as your moans grew louder. Images running through his mind, memories of how you sounded with him when he made love to you. Jealousy and rage getting the best of him, he picked up the chair beside the bed and threw it against the wall.

“Stop! What was that?” You panted pushing Negan off, quickly grabbing your robe. From

your knowledge the rooms around you were always kept empty for privacy, Negan made it this way.

“It’s probably nothing, baby come on” he rushed putting his pants on following you to the door.

Tying your robe shut you opened the door to find Joel walking out of the room in front of you, both of you stopping in your tracks.

“Joel?” You whispered in shock and embarrassment. He was angry, you had never seen Joel look this angry.

“Having fun?”

“Joel, I…I didn’t know you were in that room” Negan came up behind you with a smirk on his face.

“Sorry pal, my lady can get a little loud when she’s with me-“

“Negan” you looked back at him cutting him off as Joel walked outside.

“Why would you do that?” You walked back inside the room dressing yourself.

“Do what?”

“You purposely put him there! Why would you embarrass me like that?!” You stood up staring straight at him.

“Oh come on, it was just a joke” he chuckled.

“A joke? At my expense? I didn’t think you took being intimate with me as a joke to show off in competition with another man-“

“There’s no competition, baby” he responded in a cocky manner.

“You sure? Cause it sure seemed like you had something to prove” you walked out angrily slamming the door as he called out your name loudly.

“Stupid” you came outside in the late night with tears in your eyes. Just wanting to get away from Negan for a moment, not realizing Joel was a few feet away from you leaning on a fence, his back to you until he heard you come out. The two of you locking eyes, his anger suddenly turning into concern the second he saw you were crying.

“The hell he do to you?” He rushed towards you almost heading back to where Negan was before you stopped him.

“Nothing! Nothing, we just argued” you looked down in shame brushing your tears away.

“I can’t believe he just used me like that to get you mad” you whispered to yourself.

“Yeah, well it worked.” He admitted in frustration. You sighed looking away not noticing the way he stared at you. Even through the anger he couldn’t help but stop and want to take in every part of you. He never thought he would see you again. His eyes drifting down to your black pants and tank top, your hair was a lot longer than he remembered. He stopped at the soft plump look of your lips as you brushed your fingers through your hair.

“You look good” his words making you look at him a bit surprised. An immediate look of regret in his eyes wondering if he should have said anything.

“Thank you” you smiled, your smile somehow bringing him some kind of tranquility before asking him the unexpected.

“Where’s Sarah?” He should’ve known you’d ask for her, the two of you were actually close when you were with him. He hadn’t come across anyone else that knew her so he never had to mention her, he grew used to that, it was better for him. Turning away looking down he cleared his throat.

“She’s um…she didn’t make it” both hands came to your lips, almost immediately finding yourself rushing beside him. Without thinking placing your hands on his arm making him turn to you.

“Oh Joel…I’m so sorry” you could see him holding back tears as he looked down at you, clenching his jaw as he turned away. He nodded not saying a word, your hands still on his arms until the sound of Negans voice surprised you.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” He

spoke sarcastically as you quickly took your hands off and stepped back.

“Negan I was just-“ he walked towards you tilting his head sideways with a smile.

“Why don’t you get back inside baby, I’ll be right in.” You looked over at Joel only pissing him off more, his smile quickly vanishing.

“Let’s go in together” you spoke softly looking back at Negan, afraid of what he wanted with Joel.

“Fine, if that’s what you want, sweetheart” you could see it left Negan upset but quietly he took your arm and headed back for the room. Looking back at Joel he watched you walk away with Negan before turning away.

“Why the hell are you protecting him?” Negan snapped the second you both walked into the room.

“I’m not protecting him, Negan-“

“And what the hell was that about? Your hands were all fucking over him” you sighed turning back to Negan.

“They were not all over him, I was just trying to comfort him after finding out his daughter had died, Negan” he looked down at you with furrowed brows not knowing what to say.

“Me and her were close at a certain point, that’s all.” You walked off heading to the bed. Negan didn’t say much after that, quietly getting into bed beside you he knew you were still upset with him, he wondered if there was anything unfinished with Joel…

Should I continue this between Negan and Joel or do you guys prefer just Negan stories only? Feedback is greatly appreciated!

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Black Tie Optional: Final Part

Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen

Warnings for this part: 18+ ONLY, SERIES FINAL REWRITE BECAUSE FUCK THAT REBAR, "one thing about Dean Winchester is, if a Toddler handed him a toy phone, he'd answer it"

Words in this part: 4,800

Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.

Thank you, @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for the read-throughs and greenlight.

text divider by @talesmaniac89

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

FINAL PART

The wedding party hits a few pubs on the way back to the hotel. Vanessa declares herself to be the “only sensible adult in this car” at their first stop and makes Sam take her place in the front passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

Dean watches her in his rearview mirror as she and Emma snap selfies in the backseat. From the very first moment he met her over a year ago, Dean knew she was special. She’s beautiful, yeah, but she’s so real and funny and smart.  

Vanessa finally meets his gaze, and her eyelids flutter like they always do when she sees him like it’s the first time. He wonders if that’ll ever fade. Dean smiles, and she smiles back.

They pull up to the last bar and pile out onto the curb. 

Dean rounds the hood of the car to where Vanessa is waiting for him as Sam and Emma make their way inside.

“Ya know, that little twinkle in your eye and this dress’re makin’ it hard for me to be a gentleman.” He steps close and reaches for her wrist, pulling her into him.

“Who told you to be gentle?” Vanessa slides her hands inside his unbuttoned jacket to wrap her arms around his waist. When her fingers bump against cold steel, she tenses. “Oh-” 

Dean clasps his hands at the small of her back and looks down at her. “Just in case. OK?” 

Vanessa relaxes in his embrace and nods.

“Kay,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

She questions whether she should be troubled by the gun at his back. But she isn’t; in fact, the discovery serves to crystallize what she knows about him into the perfect shape of a man she trusts with her life, and her heart.   

“A’right, Big Guy,” Emma coos as Sam helps her out of the Impala for the last time of the evening. “You and me, utility closet.”

She smooths her hands over her hips and tosses her hair over her shoulders. 

Sam cocks a brow as he lets the heavy backdoor close. “Well, then, I guess we better get movin’.”

Emma giggles, taking off in a sprint with Sam hot on her stilettoed heels. 

“They’re stealing our moves!” Vanessa laughs as Dean helps her onto the curb.

“Borrowing, kitten. No one’s takin’ that broom closet from us.”

Vanessa’s chest warms from his words and the look in his eyes. At one point, she thought Dean would be nothing more than a thrilling memory and story to tell, which sustained her for a while. Now, though, the ability to savor each moment, knowing that once their door closes tonight, he will make her feel like the most deserving, most treasured woman in the building, if not the galaxy, is sure to leave her wanting when he leaves tomorrow. She knows that now. 

“Yo, lovebirds,” Nicole calls. “Let’s get inside so they can announce the bride and groom and start dinner.” She nods toward the ballroom, and Dean and Vanessa reluctantly unwind from each other’s embrace to follow her and the others. 

Emma and Sam are MIA, but Nicole summons enough grace not to call it out. Once the wedding party and their dates are seated at the head table, Toni and her new husband enter the room. The guests cheer, and the first dance begins. 

During the first toast, the missing couple materializes at the head table, disheveled and flushed. Dean snorts a laugh as Sam takes a seat beside his date.

“Sammy, I gotta tell ya,” Dean leans across the table toward Sam. “I like the effect this girl’s got on you.”

Sam seems to blush darker, if possible. “Me, too,” he admits, flicking his bright gaze to meet Dean’s as Emma burrows into his side and the staff serves them salad.

The second course is served while Dean quietly immerses himself in a scenario where he and Sam aren’t hunting the sister of the Almighty. They’re bartenders or electricians with mortgages and dogs and car payments. The only reason either of them breaks a bone or bleeds is because of a mundane accident. They get eight hours of sleep at night and eat three meals a day. He regularly attends weddings and birthday parties with his beautiful girl at his side.

“Should we dance?” Vanessa’s voice creates a fissure of reality in his fantasy.

“Or maybe you don’t dance.” She tucks her chin to her chest and bats the thick dark lashes that frame her cerulean eyes. 

Dean’s momentarily speechless as his daydream twines its way around the very real, very tangible, very beautiful woman facing him with anticipation. She blinks, and he can almost feel the weight of his imagined existence settling around them, shimmering in the pin lights that hang from the rafters. 

“Dean?” Vanessa tilts her head with concern.

“It’d be an honor,” he answers, pushing away from the table to stand, offering her his hand.

Vanessa grins as she slides her hand across his open palm and stands to face him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Hmm. There’s that word again.”

They saunter toward the dancefloor, hand in hand and eye to eye, in time with the bluesy beat from Chris Stapleton’s cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” until they reach the edge. Dean drags her close with a flourish, one heavy hand at the small of her back, fingers teasing the skin that’s bared by the low-cut back of her silk dress, and the other lightly clasping her fingers in his palm. She rests her free hand over his heart and lets him lead the way. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”

“You did. The last time was about 30 minutes ago, between the mixed greens and beef tenderloin.”

Dean nods. “Then I’m due. You’re beautiful.”

Vanessa smiles.

“Did I tell you how good you smell?” Dean draws small circles over the silky skin of her lower back.

“Probably.” She smirks, and he grins back.

“Did I tell you how hard it’s gonna be to wait another- wait, how long do I have to wait to get you naked?”

Vanessa throws her head back with a hearty laugh.

They dance through Chris Stapleton, John Mayer, and Calvin Harris, chatting with Emma and Sam until the DJ declares a free-for-all, and the rest of the guests flood the dancefloor for “Uptown Funk”.

“Aaand I’m done.” Dean twirls Vanessa once before turning and forging a path through the oncoming crowd, taking Vanessa with him.

“Not feelin’ funky?” She teases. 

“Oh, I can be funky, but not that kinda funky.”

Before they get too far, Dean almost trips over Ari. He recovers quickly when the little girl stares up at him with big brown eyes that aggressively tug the strings of his heart.

“Ari, honey, you’re underfoot!” Silvia playfully scolds her granddaughter. “She just wants to dance.”

Ari sways side to side and bounces on the balls of her feet. 

“There ya go!” Vanessa croons, reaching for one of Ari’s hands to play along with her. She’s only slightly taken aback when Dean reaches for the little girl’s other hand.

Ari giggles and hops up and down as the trio dances back toward the crowd. There are other people Ari could dance with; her uncles and aunts are all there, but she seems drawn to Dean and Vanessa. Especially Dean.

The DJ really likes Bruno Mars because he follows “Uptown Funk” with “Count On Me”. Ari pulls her hand out of Vanessa’s grasp and reaches for Dean to pick her up, and Dean doesn’t falter.

Unlike Vanessa, Sam is floored by Dean’s eagerness to entertain the pre-schooler. He watches with unrestrained curiosity. 

“It’s pretty sweet of him to look after Ari like that,” Emma says, resting her temple against Sam’s chest as she watches the little girl twine her fingers with Dean’s.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “Dean’s good with kids. I’m just not used to seeing him with kids for pure enjoyment.”

Emma looks up at him, brow arched. “Is that an allusion to the family business?” 

Sam startles before meeting her curious gaze with a shrug. “I guess it is.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s complicated.”

Emma chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Of course it is.”

“No, I mean it.” He pauses, thinking about the times he didn’t tell the people he cared about what he did with his life, and they still died. “But... I’ll tell you about it. Later.”

“Are you sure?” Emma marvels.

“I’m sure.”

Five feet away, Vanessa watches Dean slowly shuffling side to side, holding the little girl on his hip. He spins in a circle like a Disney prince twirling his princess — like chivalry and devotion are embedded in his DNA. She wants to shower him with that kind of affection and tenderness, not just lust. And she’s fully aware of how hard she’s fallen for him with no way of getting up.

After a couple of songs, Ari has settled her head on Dean’s shoulder. A yawn and an eye rub beckon Silvia to collect her granddaughter for bed.

“Come on, Cinderella.” Silvia reaches for Ari, and Dean hands her over. “Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin right here in front of everyone.”

Ari nuzzles her grandma, waving to Dean as Vanessa takes her place as Dean’s dance partner. The couple waves back, bidding goodnight to Silvia and the little girl.

Dean refocuses his attention on his date, skimming an arm around her waist to pull her close. 

Vanessa fiddles with his tie a little before speaking. It’s been such a nice night. She doesn’t want it to end. 

“To answer your question from earlier, we can go upstairs any time you want after they cut the cake. But I have plans for tonight.” She meets his gaze. “So whatever you had in mind’s gonna have to wait.”

Dean holds his hands up in surrender. “No arguments here.”

As promised, once the cake is cut, Vanessa leads Dean to their suite. They have the elevator to themselves. As the doors close, Vanessa turns and slides her hands up over his shoulders and around his neck.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

Dean smirks, mimicking her soft touch as he skirts his hands around her waist. 

“You’ve been with me all night, kitten — don’t have to think too much.” 

She shakes her head, her fingertips dancing over the ultrasoft nape above his collar. 

“What you did for Ari tonight was incredibly generous. I just want to show you the same kind of warmth and generosity.”

Dean scoffs and fidgets under her scrutiny, pulling her closer so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye. “She’s a kid; it ain’t hard to be nice to kids.”

Vanessa gently pushes back a few inches to look at him. “It wasn’t just nice, Dean. You danced with her because her dad couldn’t be there. You salvaged the heart of a 4-year-old.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, and Vanessa keeps a hold on his wrists.

“I mean it.” 

Dean sighs and finally stops hedging away as he settles his wary gaze on her.

“I know next to nothing about your background — your family, your day-to-day life — but I see the way your brother looks at you — like you hung the moon. And you give me confidence in a way no man has since my dad died.”

Dean’s brow furrows, and he steps back in to draw her closer. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, that’s not why I told you that.” She steps away and sighs. 

The doors open at their floor, and she steps out of the car, pulling him with her in silence until they reach their suite. Dean keys the door open and ushers her inside. 

“I’m gonna get out of this dress, but I still have some things I want to say, so...” she turns to face him as she kicks her shoes off just outside their bedroom door. “Get comfortable.”

Dean braces himself. “Whiskey comfortable, or boxers comfortable?”

Vanessa chuckles. “Boxers.” 

She enters their bedroom and heads to the bathroom to change. After filling a couple of water glasses, Dean follows. He undresses down to his boxers and undershirt and zips away his formal attire in its garment bag. Just as he’s settling against the head of the bed to scroll his phone, Vanessa comes out in a bathrobe with her hair tied on top of her head.

Dean sets his phone aside. “I didn’t know bathrobes were sexy, but here we are.”

Vanessa grins as she climbs onto the bed and astride Dean’s hips. “Says you in your plain white undershirt and black boxer briefs. You’re beautiful.”

Dean tucks his chin to his chest, sliding his hands up her thighs to meet her bare hips. “What’d you wanna tell me?”

“Things I want you to know.” She smooths her hands from his shoulders over his chest and back again.

“Maybe you don’t wanna hear this from me, or maybe my opinion of this side of you doesn’t matter, but you’re a beautiful man, Dean, in every way imaginable — you’re beautiful. You’re tough and strong but soft in all the best ways.” 

Dean drops his gaze to his lap, carefully considering his next words. He can’t tell her about gods and monsters. He can’t show her the decades-old bloodstains on his hands. He’ll never be able to 100% guarantee her safety from the things that go bump in the night.

But he can tell her some things.

“My mom died when I was Ari’s age,” he pauses, clearing his throat as he meets her eyes. “Sammy was six months old.”

Vanessa clamps her teeth over her bottom lip, biting back the emotion that threatens to well in her eyes. She nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Dad never really recovered. We grew up on the road, in the Impala and cheap motels.” He tilts his head, and his lips twist with a wistful smile. “The family business is... we help people. In ways a lot of other people can’t.”  

“So, you’re not in the mob.”

“No, we’re not in the mob.”

“I’m a triage nurse. That’s why...” She motions to his scarred knuckles. “I recognize scars and injuries pretty quickly. It’s hard not to notice you and your brother’s.”

“Explains a lot,” Dean replies, thinking not only of her skills in assessing a situation but her instincts and her compassion.

“My dad was a cop,” she continues. “Killed in the line of duty. You remind me of him — in a good way — like how kind and attentive you are. That’s definitely not to say you’re like a dad to me.”

“Glad ya said that because I was startin’ to worry,” Dean chuckles.

“I don’t know if I can ever be as good as you,” she ponders. “As good as you are making people feel important — but I’d like to try to show you how you make me feel.”

“Mmm, is that the plan you had for tonight before we started talking serious shit?”

“Mmhm.” Vanessa nods. “The serious shit had to be said, but I know- I know this is a limited-time kinda thing. And I get it. My job is crazy, too. But I’ll think about you all the time, and I hope you’ll think about me.”

Dean studies her for a moment. The daydream from dinner floats back into his mind, but this time, she knows what he really does, accepts him, and he’s able to keep her safe. He wishes he could ask his dream self how it’s done.

“I’ll never stop thinkin’ about you, kitten.”

“Then let’s make the most of our last few hours, shall we?” She leans in for a long kiss, and Dean allows himself to be loved by her for one last night.

Dean sips his coffee as he and Sam depart the Windy City in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

“I told Emma,” Sam breaks the typically sanctioned early morning silence. 

“You told Emma what?” Dean grumbles.

“About us,” Sam answers. “What we do.”

Dean blinks. “Wow. And how-”

“She believed me. That was my biggest fear — that she’d think I was making it up or something.”

Memories of Cassie, furious and cold, fill Dean’s mind. She didn’t believe him, and, really, who could blame her? Their life is absurd.

“What brought that on?” Dean asks as he merges onto the interstate, headed east, poking around for leads on Amara.

“I like her, Dean. A lot.”

Dean’s quiet for a while. He doesn’t know how Sam’s going to keep this going; he wouldn’t be able to, but if anyone can do it, it’s Sam.

“So... now what?” Dean’s genuinely curious.

Sam shrugs. “We take it slow. Keep in touch. How’d you leave things with Vanessa?”

“Left it where it’s at,” Dean answers immediately.

Sam rolls his eyes to look out the windshield and sighs. “So you think I made a mistake?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s me, Sam. I’d fuck it up. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”

Sam opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it; Dean’s made his mind up. 

When Dean tells him that Vanessa knows more about his scars and wounds than a typical civvy, Sam tells him what he knows about Vanessa -- that she’s a triage nurse. He tells Dean that Emma’s also a nurse and that Nicole’s a surgeon. Dean’s response is less than appreciative.

“You know what, Sammy? I can do without the updates. I left it there for a reason. Drop it.” He gave Sam the same edged look that accompanied a threat to break his nose if he ever mentioned Lisa or Ben again, and Sam silently agreed to his conditions.   

But Sam cares more about Emma with every passing phone call. She’s intelligent and rational enough to handle the knowledge of what they do, so he keeps her as apprised of his life as she does of hers. Over the next few years, he grows to openly love her in a fully rounded, adult way that he’s never known. 

He begins to pity and then, later, resent Dean for ‘leaving it there’ because Sam loves Emma. He wants a real life with her. He knows that choosing to keep Emma in his life has made his life better, and he believes Vanessa could do the same for Dean.

Then one night, four years later, Sam and Dean end up in a place that demands Dean re-evaluate leaving Vanessa behind.

Canton, Ohio...

“Alright, let’s go find those kids and get them outta here.” Sam sheaths his machete.

“Sam. I don't-” Dean groans. “I don't think I'm goin’ anywhere.”

“What?” Sam looks over at his brother where he’s awkwardly stood against a post. “What’re you talking about?” 

“There's somethin’ in my- somethin’ in my back. Feels like it's right through me.”

Sam walks closer, reaching around Dean's back. When he brings his hand into the dim light, he sees it’s covered with blood. 

“Alright, umm.” Sam looks around the barn, wiping his hand on his pants as he reaches for Dean’s shoulders. “Hold on. OK. I got you.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Don't- don't move me. It feels like this thing's holdin’ me together right now.”

Sam huffs, reaching for his phone. “I’m calling Emma.”

“What? No. Just- just gimme a minute.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, Dean. No more minutes. Emma’s an ER nurse. Here in Canton. I’m calling her.”

Sam paces toward the barn door.

“Sam! Stay wi- stay with me. Can you stay with me, please?” Dean’s breath is labored, and his eyelids flutter.

Sam turns back to face his brother, keeping one hand on his shoulder while he holds the phone with his other. “I’m right here, man. I got you.” 

“What’s wrong?” Emma's voice comes across the speakerphone clear and concise.

“We’re in a barn about seven miles north of the town center. I sent you a pin. Dean’s... impaled... on a piece of rebar. Against a post.”

Dean groans again. “Sammy-”

“Fuck. OK.” Emma’s voice is temporarily muffled, and then it’s obvious by the rushed way she’s speaking that she’s running. “Where’s the entry wound?”

“His back. I think his heart.” Sam winces as his brother’s head lolls and sways. 

“Did it come through his chest?” She asks before muttering to someone on her end of the line to ‘head to the old barn down the road’.

“No- no, nothing in the front. Just the back. His clothes are soaked.”

“OK. Van’s calling the paramedics.”

“What?!” Dean wails, suddenly alert. “No! Not Nessa.” 

“...but we’ll get there faster,” Emma continues despite Dean’s protestation. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna need help covering up whatever you were fighting.”

Sam would tell Emma not to bring her roommate and best friend if his brother wasn’t dying before his eyes. He wants to honor Dean’s wishes to keep her safe, but he’s exhausted by Dean’s insistence that telling her is a bad idea. 

“Dean, this is happening,” Sam says before resuming his conversation with Emma. “Five vamps. How far are you?”

“We’re literally 60 seconds away. Do not remove him from the rebar until we get there. Find something to cut him down, and we’ll help. Hang in there.”

“See you then,” Sam says to Emma before disconnecting his call. 

“Nessa can’t- I can’t let her see me, this...” Dean pleads. 

“She can and she will. You’re not dying today. Emma knows everything, and Vanessa isn’t stupid. They’re coming to keep you alive, and I’m not arguing with you about this anymore.”

Sam quickly glances around the room until he locates the kind of tool he needs. “As soon as they get here, I’m grabbing those bolt cutters and cutting you down. We’ll go outside and wait for the paramedics. I’ll take the boys somewhere safe and meet you at the hospital.”

“All this time... was tryna keep her safe, away from all this.” Dean hangs his head.

Sam lifts his chin. “Dean, she’s strong. If there was ever a time to let her in, it’s now.”

Right on cue, Emma and Vanessa race through the door with bags of first aid supplies. 

“Get the bolt cutters; we’ll hold him up,” Emma instructs, removing what looks like a camping chair from an orange bag and turning it into an emergency gurney.

Then Vanessa takes over for Sam.

“Nessa,” Dean whispers as she cups his face in her hands. “I’m so- sorry. I couldn’t-”

Vanessa sniffs and shakes back tears “No apologies. Just stay with me. I need to assess the damage here, OK?”

He blinks slowly and gives her a lazy nod. 

“Where’s most of the pain, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head to stay awake, blinking rapidly. “At the entry. Everything else just feels... warm.”

“OK.” She moves to the side to give Emma room to take Dean’s other side as Sam works on the rebar with the bolt cutters. “Get as close as you can, Sam.”

She finally glances around the barn to see several decapitated bodies, the heads donned with masks. Her blood runs cold, and her heart races.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice cracks. “Don’t look at them; look at me, honey.”

Vanessa drags her gaze from the grisly scene to Dean’s pale face. She nods and gives him a weak smile before wedging herself under the opposite arm as Emma, keeping her eyes on him as he asked.

“Your breathing is labored. I’m guessing Sam’s right, and it’s your heart.” Tears fill her eyes as Dean tilts his head to rest against hers. She whispers. “Maybe your left lung. You’re lucky. Nicole’s one of the top Vascular surgeons in the country.”

“OK, I got a grip on this thing. Count of three,” Sam says before counting down and cutting clean through the steel.

The women hold him steady while Sam helps guide Dean to the stretcher and carry him outside.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes as Vanessa kneels beside him. “If I make it through this-”

“When. Not if.” She dips in to kiss him, hovering over him while Sam and Emma work quickly to hide the bodies in the barn. “You’re gonna make it, and you’re gonna tell me what I just saw in there.”

Dean blinks, and tears roll from his eyes. “I will, honey. I will.”

The paramedics arrive moments after Sam and Emma exit the barn. Vanessa gives them his vitals and a partially fabricated info dump as they work to stabilize him. As they load him into the ambulance, she climbs in.

“I got him, Sam. Meet us at the hospital.” She closes the doors, and the ambulance takes off. 

Dean wakes up in a brightly lit room. He remembers bits and pieces of a conversation that he fears and prays is real. When his vision clears, and he sees the person beside his bed, he’s 90% sure of what he remembers.

“Nicole?” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You an angel?” 

Nicole smirks and arches a brow. “Cute. I’m your surgeon, tough guy. This is what we call a post-op check.”

He’s now 100% sure.

“Post-op? What op?” He tries to joke as he shifts his weight very slightly and groans in pain. 

“You showed up here last night with a hunk of steel through your heart and lung. I took it out.” She checks his pulse, pokes at him, and prods. Dean’s 90% sure she’s being a little rougher than normal. “Good thing your brother didn’t ghost Emma like you ghosted Van.” 

“Ow!” And 100% it is.

“And, hmm,” she taps her chin. “You do know my name.”

“‘Course I do, I’s just fuckin’ with ya.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You’re doing great, Dean. I’ll be back later to check in again. Meanwhile, there’s a couple of people here to see you.”

Nicole draws the curtain that separates Dean from the rest of the room. On the other side sits Sam and Vanessa.

“Eat something if you’re hungry; otherwise, rest.”

Nicole breezes out of the room, leaving Dean with Vanessa and Sam, the latter of whom stands next to Dean’s bed, looking down at his bruised and bandaged brother with a tired smile. 

“You hungry? I can order you some food.”

“I’m starvin’, man. Get somethin’ bad for me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Sure thing. Be back in a bit.”

He gives Vanessa a pointed look as he leaves the room.

Vanessa remains seated on the vacant bed across from Dean’s. She’s silent and thoughtful.

“You uhh, workin’?”

She shakes her head. “Just finished my shift.”

Dean nods. He doesn’t know if he should jump right in or what, so he asks her a question.

“How much do you know?”

She draws a deep breath and sighs. “That you saved two little boys and probably dozens more the other night.”

Dean closes his eyes. “Vampires are real.”

“Jesus,” Vanessa whispers, standing and moving to the side of his bed. She grasps his hand tightly. “What else?”

“Ghosts, ghouls, shapeshifters, werewolves, fuckin’ demons. They’re all real. Angels.” He squeezes her hand. “Angels are dicks, by the way, which is kinda shitty that I asked Nicole if she was one after she saved my life.” 

He chuckles, and Vanessa huffs a surprised laugh before settling on the edge of his bed. She strokes his forehead, and he hums. “I won’t say I wish you’d told me before now because I’m just grateful you’re alive to tell me now. Your recovery will be lengthy. You’ll need physical therapy.”

Dean reaches for her other hand, twining their fingers together and waiting for her to meet his gaze. “OK.”

“I’m not your doctor, so I can’t advise you officially, but as someone who loves you, I hope you’ll stay long enough for me to help and... for us to get reacquainted.”

Dean grins, realizing just how bone tired he truly is. He yawns through his grin and tugs her close. 

Vanessa dips in to press a kiss to his forehead, each cheek, and his lips. “Please stay,” she whispers.

Dean tilts his chin and meets her lips again, brushing back and forth. “OK, kitten. You got me. As long as you want me.”

When Sam returns to Dean’s room, he finds Vanessa curled around him, keeping him safe and warm. She and Dean are both fast asleep, smiling and breathing steadily.

Sam leaves the macaroni and cheese on a tray and backs away to leave them in peace.

Series master list | Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

[iamleesi]

★ 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ↓

› THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

┆

↳ [ Summary: You’re sent on a mission with Bucky, who seems to hate you, for an indefinite period of time. You’re gonna meet two men who are going to help the both of you with the case as it gets more sinister. ]

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

› SILVERLAKE (coming soon)

┆

↳ [ Summary: Breaking away from a self-centered and abusive relationship, the reader seeks solace by visiting her brother Steve in the small town where he lives. There, she meets Steve’s best friend, Bucky. ]

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

__________________________________________________

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 ↓

[ Definitely coming when I get some ideas]

[deangirlsstuff67]

Wanna Touch?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Nipple and Clit Piercing, dirty talk, fingering, oral mentioned, Unprotected sex, P in V, cum play, creampie, PWP

Summary: Dean's been with his share of women, but none have ever had piercings.

Masterlist | Patreon

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

Dean's always been a charmer. Could get into any woman's panties with just a sexy smirk and wink. Y/N was no different, you'd have to be blind not to fall in love with the man.

The boys saved y/n ass on a solo hunt one day years ago and since then the three have been inseparable. Even added Cas and Jack to their little family along the way.

You never allowed yourself to cross the invisible line you placed in the sand. You also highly doubt Dean sees you any other way than a friend. Knowing your luck he sees you like he sees Charlie, a little sister.

Friend zoned by your own doing.

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

Dean and you are training yet again this week. It started when you went to the gym this morning sexually frustrated after dreaming of a certain green eyed hunter.

Hoping hitting the bag will relieve some tension.

Wrong.

Dean found you a hour later asking if you wanted to do some training. Knowing it was a bad idea you agreed, at least he would be touching you. Nothing turns you on more than playing with fire.

That's how you found yourself in this situation. Dean has you pinned by your throat against the gym wall. Both of you breathing heavy and staring at one another. His leg is between your thighs while he's hard body is pinning yours.

In your spandex work out shorts you have the perfect feeling against your clit hood piercing. He's rubbing in all the right ways without knowing it.

Your mind is a fog of desire as you drown in the sound of his husky voice. All of a sudden a moan slips from your lips,silencing Dean.

Embarrassed and even more frustrated than before you try to wiggle out of his grasp. That make fires and your eyes roll when you hit your piercing again.

God that feels amazing.

You feel his thigh move slightly drawing another breathy moan from you. "Well shit." Then he does it again.

Move. Moan. Move. Moan. Pretty soon your riding his thigh. Dean brings his lips to yours, taking them in a deep passionate kiss. You bite down on his lower lip causing his hips to jerk into your body. His hard and big.

Soon it's not enough. You need him to touch you. "Dean, please."

"I got you sweetheart." You feel his large hand descend down your body and beneath your waist band. You have done laundry yet, and just prefer to be commando.

"Youre going to kill me y/n." His calloused fingers spread your lower lips wide as he finds your clit. Just when you thought he was going to put you out of your misery, he stills.

Looking at his shocked face you begin to think he's regretting this, "what's wrong?"

"Fuck that's hot." He flicks your piercing, watching pleasure wash over your features. "Never gotten to play with one of these before." He flicks it again, this time smiling as he watches you. "Oh baby, I'm going to have fun with you."

Before you can respond He is knuckle deep with two thick fingers in your dripping core, thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit, purposely hitting the jeweled ring every time.

Moaning in your ear he asks, "you're dripping sweetheart , all this from my hands on your body?"

"Yes Dean."

He quickly works you over. Has you clamping down around his fingers as he works you through it. Pulling his fingers from your shorts he puts them in your mouth and you suck the taste of yourself from them, making him groan.

"Next time baby. Right now I need to be in you."

Releasing his fingers with a 'pop', "god... yes"

He holds you against the wall still, wrapping your legs around his waist before pull his sweats just far enough down to release his huge cock. Looking down you see his perfect cock glistening with pre cum and angry.

Dean captures your lips with his again as he thrusts himself to the hilt in your velvety walls. You cry out with the stretch he causes as your body struggles to take him.

"Son of a bitch y/n, you feel amazing." Then he begins to slowly thrust inside of you.

After a couple minutes you need more, "Dean... more please. I need more."

Dean doesn't have to be asked twice. Smiling before taking your nipple through your sports bra and snapping his hips fast and rough into your tight core.

"God damn even your nipples are pierced." He bites down on one, sending you into the strongest orgasm you've ever experienced. "Going to have to play with these later."

You feel his rhythm faulter as he's release grows closer. Three more hard thrusts and his fingers rubbing your clit into another small orgasm, thanks to his new toy, you feel find splatter your inner walls in warmth as rope after rope of cum fills you.

His cum begins to leak past his cock as he slowly thrusts into your soaked pussy to completely empty himself. Groans and whimpers fill the otherwise silent room.

He's head on your chest you both try to catch your breath for a moment. His now softening cock slips from you, your combined juices begin to leak from your opening.

You feel a low growl vibrates your chest, "fuck, look at you leaking my cum and making a mess." His fingers begin to play with the mess between your legs, "shit that's fucking sexy as sin."

You feel him grow against you leg. Round two it is.

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: Bellova begins to notice how dedicated Coriolanus is to helping his tribute, which greatly displeases her. But her anger at the young Snow is temporarily forgotten about when one of her classmates dies in her arms. (i’m using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter)

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, death, mentions of violent urges, mentions of blood, crying, one swear word

Bellova sighed inwardly, drawing a rose with a fountain pen on her notebook where she was supposed to be writing down Dean Highbottom’s words. The lecture was pointless in her opinion. She knew everything the dean was talking about by heart, and she was alive when the events being discussed were occurring. 

She would never admit it to him, but she wished Coriolanus hadn’t skipped class to accompany his tribute. It was unusual for him, the star student, to miss a lecture, even one of Highbottom’s. The competition between them made the dean’s nonsensical ramblings almost bearable.

Then, as if on cue, a breathless and sweaty Coriolanus burst into the lecture hall. All eyes turned to him, shocked at his disheveled appearance.

“Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow. Chief amongst them, endangering a Capitol student,” Dean Highbottom said, not looking up from his papers. 

“What?” Coriolanus said, baffled. “Who?”

“You.” Highbottom’s response made Bellova roll her eyes. He was constantly looking for reasons to target the young Snow. “I’m moving for the Gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor immediately.”

“You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away,” Coriolanus argued, standing at his seat next to Bellova but not sitting down.

“I’ll add insubordination as well,” the dean said smugly.

“Holding her hand, Coryo? Introducing her to people?” Arachne said, clearly disgusted. “You make it look as if we’re one and the same as those animals.”

Bellova couldn’t help but agree silently with her. She hated that Coriolanus had done so much to promote Lucy Gray, even going so far as to touch her. Had he forgotten that he was of the purest Capitol blood, only fit to associate with those who also held that status?

“Coriolanus didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Bellova had to grip her textbook to refrain from throwing something at the young Plinth. He was being foolish, saying such things in the presence of the dean and the other mentors.

“I don’t need your help, Sejanus,” Coriolanus snapped.

“That the tributes are human beings. Just like us,” Sejanus continued. “That’s why nobody wants to watch the Games. It’s because people know deep down that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights.”

“Shut up, Sejanus, please,” Bellova murmured through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Dr. Gaul appeared, startling many of the mentors. Bellova looked at her, setting down her fountain pen.

“Snow fell down in the cage,” she began, smiling crookedly. “It fell down in the cage but it landed…”

“On stage,” Coriolanus finished.

The doctor grinned with delight. “You’re good at games. Maybe one day, you’ll be a Gamemaker like me.”

“If the Games continue at all,” Highbottom added.

“Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow’s in that zoo. And I came here to ask your star mentor a question: what are The Hunger Games for?”

This sparked an argument between Dr. Gaul, Highbottom, Coriolanus, and Sejanus. Bellova listened, intrigued. This was the most interesting thing that had happened during one of Highbottom’s lectures since the time Persephone and Arachne almost ripped each other’s heads off over a petty dispute. 

Coriolanus then proposed an idea, about making the games more “personal” for Capitol citizens. 

“We need them to invest,” he said. “And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets. Look, I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena. But if you give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul looked at him. “I’d like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow.”

“Wait,” Clemensia Dovecote spoke up. “You mean you might actually use his ideas?”

“If it’ll help the ratings, why not?” Dr. Gaul responded.

“Coriolanus and I are class partners, Dr. Gaul,” Clemensia said hastily. “We do all of our assignments together.”

‘Someone’s desperate for approval,’ Bellova thought, giving Clemensia a brief look of annoyance.

Dr. Gaul laughed, sending a visible chill through many of the mentors. “It’ll be an interesting test.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the lecture ended, the mentors went straight to the cafeteria. They were buzzing with excitement at the idea that Dr. Gaul may listen to their suggestions. Having an idea approved by her could do wonders for their future careers.

Bellova stood in line holding a tray, eyeing the mint chocolate fudge in the dessert section. She loved mint. It reminded her of wintertime, her favorite season.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Coriolanus tapping her on the shoulder. 

“What do you want?” she asked.

Coriolanus scoffed. “Your perfect manners never cease to amaze me.”

Bellova sneered. “Funny. Now get to the point.”

“I’m going to sneak some food out of here and give it to Lucy Gray at the Zoo. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me. You haven’t met your tribute yet, after all.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, putting a few slices of bread on her plate. “Breaking the rules again? After Highbottom just threatened to write you up for insubordination?”

“You were the one who told me to do anything it takes to succeed.”

“Fair enough,” she sighed. “Fine, I’ll come with you. I’ll give my tribute some bread while we’re there.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Who’s breaking rules now?”

Bellova gave him a look. “I’ll see you at the Zoo, Coryo.” With that, she grabbed a stack of mint chocolate fudge slices and walked off to join her friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, Coriolanus, Bellova, and a handful of the other mentors met up at the Capitol Zoo. They immediately made their way to the monkey exhibit, where the tributes were being held. Nodding at the Peacekeepers surrounding the area, they stood inches away from the bars keeping them separated from the district children.

Bellova scanned the exhibit and eventually spotted her tribute in the corner. “Velvereen!” she called. The girl made her way over to the bars, looking at Bellova warily.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m your mentor, Bellova. Here, I brought some bread for you.” She held out the napkin to Velvereen, who took it instantly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit earlier. I have a busy schedule.”

Velvereen said nothing, focusing on wolfing down the bread. 

“So,” Bellova continued. “Have you talked to any of the other tributes?”

“Not besides Facet,” she said, pointing to the male District 1 tribute. “Oh, and the singer girl. The one with the strange dress.”

Bellova glanced over at Lucy Gray, who was talking very intimately with Coriolanus. She fought back a look of irritation. Lucy Gray was certainly a spectacle, but she was clearly deranged. She couldn’t understand why Coriolanus was so fascinated with her, other than her extremely strange behavior. 

“I see,” Bellova said. “Well, I promise to visit more often if I can. My advice to you is to make allies. The more that you have, the better your chance of survival is.” 

Velvereen nods. “I know. That’s what my father told me.” 

Bellova gave her a small smile. “It’s good to know that you have a basic understanding of strategy.”

She looked to her left, and saw Arachne taunting her tribute with a glass bottle. “Arachne!“ she hissed. “What the hell are you doing?“

“Shut up, Bellova!” Arachne snapped. “Mind your own business.”

“Fine!” Bellova snapped back. She and Velvereen continued discussing the Games. She was thankful that her tribute was willing to converse, unlike several, who refused to interact with their mentors. But as much as she tried to focus on her tribute, she felt her eyes wander to Coriolanus and Lucy Gray, who seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. It seemed as if her odd charms were beginning to rub off on the young Snow as well. If she hadn’t been surrounded by so many Capitol citizens, she would’ve been tempted to grab Lucy Gray by the hair and slam her head against the metal bars of the enclosure. 

Her violent fantasy was abruptly halted by a chorus of screams. 

Brandy, Arachne’s tribute, had grabbed her mentor by the neck and snatched the bottle from her. “Help!” Arachne shrieked, trying desperately to escape her grasp. Before anyone could do anything, Brandy smashed the bottle against the metal bars of the cage, and used the serrated edge to stab her in the neck. 

“No, no, no!” Coriolanus screamed, rushing towards Arachne, who lay on the ground, convulsing in pain as the crowd screamed frantically around them. He gathered the girl in his arms, putting his hand to her throat, trying to stop the blood flow. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Hold on. Hold on!”

Arachne gasped for air, blood oozing from her neck. Bellova crouched down at her side, turning her head to face her.  “Hey, look at me. Hey, hold on! It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ll get help, I promise.” 

“Somebody help us, please!” Coriolanus yelled at the crowd. 

Chaos erupted, making the whole scene a blur. Brandy was shot by Peacekeepers, falling to the ground with a thud. The other tributes were screaming wildly, ducking away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. 

Coriolanus and Bellova were eventually dragged away from Arachne, who was lifted onto a stretcher. They were escorted by Peacekeepers out of the Zoo and back onto Academy grounds. Once inside a quiet hallway, they collapsed onto the ground side by side, finally able to process what had just happened.

Bellova, who almost never showed any emotion besides smugness, anger, or contempt in Coriolanus’s presence, began to cry. Her head swam with terror and disgust, the sight of Arachne’s slit throat burned into her mind. She was never close to the girl, she found her to be shallow and hated her whining. But they had grown up together. She was part of the Capitol’s finest, meaning they had attended several events together over the years and visited each other’s homes regularly. And now, she was gone. 

“I should’ve done more to stop her,” she said, voice trembling uncontrollably. “She was being stupid, and I just let her keep doing it! Her blood is on my fucking hands! It’s all my fault!”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Coriolanus spoke up. “Blame the district girl. She was the one who did it.” 

“I know, I know,” Bellova cried, black mascara running down her face, ruining her perfect face of makeup. “But she’s dead too. I can’t even avenge Arachne by killing her. There’s nothing I can do.”

Coriolanus, who had finally stopped shaking, pulled Bellova into his side gently. He put his arm around her, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder. “You’re safe now. This won’t ever happen again, the Capitol will tighten security tenfold.”

Without thinking, Bellova leaned into Coriolanus’s grasp. He patiently let her cry into his shoulder, while he tried to help steady her breathing. The two young students clung to each other, forgetting all of their past grievances in that moment. 

When they finally pulled away, they looked at each other, as if they were stunned at their own actions. Neither of them were affectionate towards each other, or affectionate people in general. Yet here they were, sitting on the cold marble floor of the Academy, comforting each other. 

Bellova cleared her throat. “We should probably get out of here. Let the administrators know that we’re going home early.” 

Coriolanus nodded, standing up and holding out his hand to help her up. Bellova took it, smiling ever-so slightly. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“Of course,” Coriolanus replied. 

They informed the staff that they’d be departing early. Nobody tried to stop them, understanding that they’d just been through a traumatic event. They walked down the steps of the Academy’s main building, standing near the curb.

Finally, Bellova broke the silence. “Let me take you back to your apartment. My driver will be here any minute.” Before Coriolanus could protest, she said, “You’re in no condition to walk that far. I know you always say you walk to and from school to clear your mind, but just let me do this for you. Please?”

“Fine,” Coriolanus said reluctantly. 

As they sat in the back of Bellova’s chauffeur’s car, neither of them said a word to each other. The death of Arachne had clearly rattled them both to the core, but they couldn’t bring themselves to talk about it. It still all felt like a nightmare. 

Bellova took a small compact and handkerchief out of her bag, using the cloth to wipe away the black stains her tears had left behind. She pressed some foundation over it, erasing any evidence of a breakdown. 

Coriolanus watched her, realizing that he’d likely never see her this vulnerable again. He was still surprised that she didn’t slap him for embracing her. They certainly had a unique relationship. Often times they were at each other’s throats, occasionally they exchanged words of advice and encouragement. But nevertheless, he didn’t want to see her so hurt. She was…a friend? A companion? Something other than a stranger, for sure. 

They pulled up outside of Coriolanus’s apartment complex, and Bellova’s driver opened the door for him. 

Coriolanus turned to Bellova, who was staring down at her hands. “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bellova said, looking up to give him a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Coryo.”

“See you tomorrow, Bellova.”

And with one last nod, Coriolanus shut the door behind him, returning to his run-down apartment where Tigris and Grandma’am were waiting.

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TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: This chapter was a lot longer than the last one lolll I really liked writing this part because things become a lot more intense. Let me know in the comments what you think and if you’d like to be tagged!