#angelina's f3 challenge

[think-like-a-poet]

The food challenge

F2! Logan Sargeant x F3! reader x F2! Oscar Piastri

Original video on youtube

"Hello everyone, I'm Y/N, and this is the Prema Formula 2 and 3 food challenge. I'll be feeding my friends Oscar and Logan Sargeant, and they'll have to guess what they're eating without seeing it." You wave and pointed to the two boys standing next to me, and Oscar smiled politely. Logan, on the other hand, looked happy to be here.

"So excited," Oscar said sarcastic and the american just laughed at him.

"Oscar and I both wear blindfolds so we don't see the food." Logan explains as you hand both of them a pair of cat blind folds. The looked quite stupid.

As the boys put on the blindfolds, you grab the aprons that angelina gave you to put on the boys so they don't mess up their team clothing. "How does this work?" you look at it for some time before figuring it out.

handed them each a pair of cat blindfolds. "We'll both be wearing blindfolds so we won't see what we're eating," Logan explained. Oscar nodded in understanding.

You opened the first plate, revealing a plate of marshmallows. You picked one up and brought it to Logan's mouth. "Open up, Logan," You said, and he took a bite. "That's amazing!" he exclaimed, making Oscar and me laugh.

"You have to try and explain to Oscar what it is." you remember him as he takes a second Marshmallow of the fork that you still held into the air.

Logan thought for a moment before responding, "It's white and you held it over a fire." It wasn't hard for Oscar to guess; he immediately replied, "A marshmallow!" I clapped my hands together in excitement. "Yes, one point for Oscar!"

"Can i have another one?" Logan ask, and you just laugh as you put a new one into his mouth.

"I really like marshmallows." he tried to say while he chewed on his candy.

The next plate was opened, revealing a spoonful of licorice. I knew Logan wasn't a fan of licorice, so it took some effort to get him to take a spoonful. His face contorted in disgust as he chewed. "That's disgusting! How can you do that to me?" he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"What is it?" Oscar asked and you look at him with a questioned face, "that is what you are supposed to ques, kangaroo." he just shakes his head at the nickname before Logan starts explaining.

"Italians love it; they have it every morning." However, his description was far off from the actual food.

Oscar guessed again, saying, "Espresso? Coffee beans?" Logan agreed enthusiastically, but I shook my head. "That's not right."

"I have it wrong." Logan asks confused.

"Yes. That is what not having it right means." you show the plate tothe camera, "It was liquorice"

Oscar asked, "How do you confuse that with coffee beans."

Logan shrugged, "It tasted the same."

Now it was Oscar's turn to try and guess. You grabbed the next plate and opened it, revealing a sliced lemon. As Oscar took a bite, his face scrunched up in distaste. "Ugh! Why do I get this one?" He groaned at the sour taste.

"It is sour and-" before Oscar could finish explaining Logan quested, "A sour patch?'

"No. Let me finish my sentence."

"If it was it wouldn't have counted because Osc said half of the word."

Logan just seemed to realised that too.

"It is sour and yellow. It grows on a three,"

"A lemon." Logan exclaimed and Oscar and you agree.

The boys took off their blindfolds and went to stand next to you again.

"This was the Prema food challenge. We hope you like it, I did certain ." You smile and recivied two hand slaps on your arms.

---

Tag list: @hiireadstuff @nikfigueiredo @elliott-calls @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e

[bad268]

Actually obsessed with your Arvid stories omd!!!!!!! They're too cute

Could you do one about reader being a part of prema and in challenges and vids there is a lot of moments between them and fans catch onto that

+Heyyyy

The arvid stories are way too good omd ur writing>>

Anyways had a request for him if that's okay, arvid and the guys are in some prema promo vid (Dino and them) and they start teasing him about girls or smth and he's like "I don't think my gf would appreciate that" and them and the fans are shocked

What Are The Odds? (Arvid Lindblad X Prema! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (hope yall don't mind I combined this <3)

Warnings: Aged up Arvid

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1276

Summary: What are the odds?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You and Arvid were like a package deal. You met in the Italian F4 championship and went through your entire F4 careers together. You two were the youngest F3 drivers, and now, you were in F2. This time, for the first time, you were teammates at Prema. 

That being said, fans of you two always searched for crumbs of interactions between you. It was pretty difficult because even though you were friends (publically), you were always on different teams, and you two preferred to hang out in the privacy of your shared apartment. Your lives are already so public that you wanted a sliver of it to be behind closed doors. No one could blame you, but the fans made it clear they wanted more. This also didn't stop your friends from making sly comments during videos.

Back in F3, Dino made it his mission to constantly tease Arvid mainly because he thought you two were cute. They were paired together for the Taylor Swift or Shakespeare challenge, and Dino really amped up the teasing.

“Do you think Taylor Swift would ever give you a chance?” Dino joked before they even started the challenge. 

“Uh, I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that,” Arvid dragged out before he thought about it for a second. “Actually, she probably wouldn’t care because she loves Taylor Swift.”

When that video went live, you immediately texted him that he better not get with Taylor Swift, and he responded, saying he was going with the bit. Honestly, the fans didn’t want to believe he had a girlfriend because they shipped you two so much. Little did they know. 

When you both were announced to take the places of Kimi and Ollie, the fans didn’t hide their excitement. They knew Prema was known for their challenges, and they were practically begging Angelina in the Instagram comments to pair you two up. Luckily, Angelina read most of the comments, and she already planned for you to be partnered going forward. 

The first video was a “How well do you know your teammate” challenge. Easy peasy for you two right?

“What is my family heritage?” All went downhill immediately. 

“You started off difficult for a reason!” You accused, pretending to throw your cards at Arvid.

“That was the first card!” He defended, using his own cards to shield his face. 

“Well, I know you’re British, duh,” You deadpanned to the camera, “You’re dad is Swedish I think, so Swedish. Is there another?”

“Yeah, technically one more,” Arvid smiled at you as he nodded along with you.

“I don’t know where your mum is from. I thought she was British.”

“She is, but her parents are from India.” 

“Damn, I could’ve guessed that,” You laughed as you looked at your first card. The plan was t alternate between the two of you. “What is my favorite warm-up?”

“Jumping rope,” Arvid said immediately, snapping toward you.

“No,” You responded just as quickly. “I hate jumping rope. You should know this.”

“Is it the tennis balls or good mornings then?” Arvid gave up.

“Neither,” You gasped, honestly horrified that he gave up so quickly. You held your cards out in front of you as you turned them much like you would with your wheel. “It's the wheels.”

“I should’ve known!” He shouted, smacking a hand against his forehead. “I’m sorry I don’t know you.”

“You should know me at least a little given the circumstances,” You jokingly lectured.

“When’s my birthday?” Arvid got back on track.

“You should've started with this!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up before pointing at him. “The eighth of August, 2007.”

“I shouldn’t doubt you when it comes to remembering dates,” Arvid chuckled quietly to himself.

“Now, what is my worst habit?” You eyed him suspiciously, trying to communicate with him to not say anything weird.

“Well, you take forever to wake up in the morning,” Arvid started with a laugh. “You’re always late.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s all my fault! My bed is just so comfy!” You gushed leaning further into your chair, imagining it being your bed. “Yeah, I could go for a nap right now.”

“I think that’s the end of the video then,” Arvid laughed as he wrapped it up quickly, so you two could go home.

When the video dropped, you did not expect the influx of messages and comments. They were generally saying that Arvid should break up with his girlfriend or that you two should be together. One comment on the Instagram post said, “what are the odds they're already together” and you ran with it. You talked about it together and decided it was finally time to announce your relationship.

You screenshotted the comment and took a picture with Arvid. You two were leaning your foreheads together smirking, and you shared that picture with the screenshotted comment to your story. You laid down on Arvid’s lap as you gave everyone a minute to freak out before posting another picture of you laying with Arvid with the caption, “what are the odds?”

The next video was going to be interesting. In true Angelina fashion, she started planning the perfect challenge for you.

“Hello everybody! I’m Y/n, and that’s Arvid,” You introduced, gesturing for Arvid to continue the start of the video.

“And we’re playing the Mr and Mrs game,” Arvid explained all of the rules as you nodded along. When he wrapped up, you played rock paper scissors to see who would listen to music first. He won, so he put the headphones on while Angelina asked you the questions.

“What is Arvd’s favorite track?”

“Silverstone,” You answered immediately, “Man is more patriotic than an American.” You looked back at Arvid and gestured for him to come forward. He took the headphones off and wheeled his chair over to you again. “What’s your favorite circuit?”

“Silverstone,” Arvid said immediately, and he was going to go into a tangent, but you cut him off.

“What did I say? I knew it!” You exclaimed with a laugh as you poked his cheek, “You’re just too British.”

“Ok, I’m going back under now,” Arvid muttered, embarrassed at all of the attention being caught on camera. He put the headphones back on and wheeled back, nodding his head to the music playing.

You continued with a few different questions ranging from racing topics to favorite foods and dream holiday destinations. When you got the the end of the list of Arvid’s questions, you swapped.

“What was Y/n’s racing number in karting?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Arvid argued. “I didn’t even know her then!”

“She knew your heritage, so you should at least know their karting number.”

“1?” Arvid answered with a question as he looked back, beckoning you to come forward. “What was your karting number?”

“What did you say?” You teased. You never told him what it was, so you wanted to see what he said.

“1,” Arvid answered simply.

“What are the odds you didn’t know that?” You teased lightly, “So, it’s actually a trick question. I didn’t have a single racing number since I got handed down karts. Generally, my numbers were 17, 25, 99, and 33. In F4, I chose (#) as my racing number though.”

“How was I ever going to get that?” Arvid said in disbelief as he shook his head. “You’re done. We’re done. This has been the Mr and Mrs game.”

“And clearly this Mr doesn’t know his Mrs, but we’ll settle that later,” You cut in before Arvid could completely wrap the video up. “We’ll see you on the track or in the next video. Bye!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[roxyspearing]

Something like that

This is for the fierce AF @atc74 and her Fierce Females in Fanfiction challenge! My chosen prompt was 'I am not a bitch. It just pisses you off that I can see through all your bullshit and lies." and is bolded.

Word count: 1,030

Characters: Reader, drunken idiot guy, Mark (OC), Charlie (OC), a mystery character.....

Warnings: a lot of swearing, a drunken fool, minor injury, minor threat to reader

“This one time, I could've closed the gates of hell!” The loud, slightly slurred voice from the end of the bar is what gets your attention, but it's the claim being made that makes you lock eyes with the guy across from you and raise your eyebrows, a silent ‘are you hearing this?!’ “There's always one.” Your companion chuckles. “Few drinks and they can't keep their mouth shut. They're lucky this is a hunters only bar.” “I'll say.” You smirk, swiping the glass in front of you and dumping it in the tray to get cleaned. “You calling it a night?” “Better had. Long drive to Albuquerque for my old ass. What I owe you this time Y/N?” You cash up your customer, keeping one eye on the drunken idiot at the end of the bar. He's been rude and obnoxious since the second he stepped in, and coupled with the way he's been running his mouth, you'll be glad when he leaves. But first... “Charlie!” You shout out, waving the box of ammo he'd paid for at him once he's turned back round. “Seriously man. How you can take out four werewolves at once when you wouldn't remember your head if it weren't attached to you, I will never know.” “Huntings like riding a bike my dear. Once you know, you know.” Charlie smiles, wagging his eyebrows at you. “You take care of yourself now, you hear me?”

The night drags on, with the drunk continuing to make more of a fool of himself. As well as his hell claim, he has also battled through purgatory, killed a vampire with razor wire, and died, several times. “You know what? You should be thanking me! I've saved this damn world!” Idiot guy says, waving his near empty bottle around as he gestures round the room. “OK dude. I'm cutting you off.” Grabbing the bottle, you take a long, hard look at this guy. “You got a place to kip tonight? I'd start making my way there if I were you.” “The hell? You should show me some damn respect, girly. I've-" “You've nothing.” You interrupt. “Next time you wanna go to a bar and run your mouth and sprout tales about what you've done, tell your own damn stories. Because there ain't a hunter worth their salt don’t know the name Winchester, and what them boys have done.” “You calling me a liar?” “Well, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...” “Fuck you, you stuck up bitch! I wanna speak to your god damn boss, right fuc-" The guy's so drunk that it takes nothing for you to reach over the bar, grab the back of his head, and slam his face hard into the polished wood of the bar. With a yell, he reaches into his pocket, but freezes as the room is filled with the sounds of guns being cocked. Clearing your throat, you wait until all eyes are on you.

““I am not a bitch. It just pisses you off that I can see through all your bullshit and lies. Because that's what you're doing. Unless you’re their long-lost cousin, none of that stuff ever happened to you.” “What you got some special know-it-all in with the Winchesters?” The guy mutters. “Yeah, something like that. Now, what was that part about talking to my boss?” “You heard me. I've seen him, walking in and out of that kitchen. I wanna talk to him.” “OK.” You back away, holding your hands up. “Hey Mark! Got someone wants a word!” Seconds pass, before the door to the back opens, and 6ft5 of Navy SEAL muscle comes out, the limp from his busted right knee making him even more scary looking. “Over there.” You point in the direction of the dumbo, before leaning back against the bar. You can't really hear what Mark's saying, but you know exactly when he's dropped the clanger, dumbass spluttering your way like a fish out of water. “Oh yeah, that's right. I'm the boss. Hell, I'm the bloody owner of this roadhouse. And you are the idiot that threatened me while every other person in here is a regular of mine. Now, I'm gonna say this just the once. Get up, get the hell out of my bar, and don't you ever try using Sam and Dean Winchester for your own personal gain again. You hear me?” The only answer you get back is a shaky nod. “Good. Get out.”

The speed at which the guy leaves is amazing, considering how much he'd drunk. As the door closes behind him, the rest of the bar starts clapping. “Alright, alright, shows over! Last call in half hour!” “You good boss?” Mark asks you as you grab a rag and start wiping down where that guy was sat. “Yeah I'm good. Hey, you wanna go, get back to Sally and the kids?” “Sure?” “Of course! Give them my love.” Mark smiles, grabbing you and squeezing you tight. Last call and closing time come round quick, though as always when it's you and the regulars, you end up staying way later then usual. Luckily, you don't live that far from your bar, your way of helping the hunters of this world. Tip-toeing your way down the hall, you quietly close your bedroom door, certain you haven't woken anyone....and promptly squeal as you turn round and the bedside lamp is switched on. “Son of a- damn it! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?!” You whisper, trying not to wake anyone else up. “About as many times that I’ve reminded you that I'm a hunter, and am used to waking up at the slightest little sound?” Your husband smirks. “Urgh. I hate you sometimes.” Pulling your shirt over your head, you crawl into bed. “I love you too. How was work?” “Pretty uneventful. Though, just so I know, you don't have some cousin I don't know about, do you?” Grabbing your waist, Dean pulls you against his chest, causing you to giggle. “Not that I know of.” “Good. Hi.” “Hi.” Dean whispers back, his lips gently meeting yours.

Forevers and evers:

@like-a-bag-of-potatoes  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @jayankles  @grace-for-sale  @atc74

@mrsbatesmotel53  @gryffindorofcabin21  @dolphinpink310  @goldenolaf25  @kdfrqqg

@ellen-reincarnated1967  @fictionalabyss  @heyitscam99  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @amanda-teaches

@tngrayson-rapture  @girl-next-door-writes  @feelmyroarrrr  @blacktithe7  @masksandtruths  @maui137

@holyfuckloueh  @tina8009  @polina-93  @emoryhemsworth  @whimsicalrobots  @x-waywardaf-x

@be-amaziing  @horsegirly99  @bitterstar88  @hunterswearingplaid  @deangirl7695  @thisismysecrethappyplace

@calaofnoldor  @randomparanoid  @flamencodiva

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278  @ericaprice2008  @cuffski  @ruprecht0420  @kathaswings  @deanscarlett

@hobby27  @captainemwinchester  @deanssweetheart23  @yourvoiceislikearose

@aubreystilinski  @wingedcatninja  @pisces-cutie  @mogaruke  @lastactiontricia

[killswitchwrites]

Take It All Back

Dean x Reader

Summary: Strength can look like a lot of things. Sometimes it’s being strong enough to walk away. Other times it means sticking it out. In Y/n’s case, it means a little of both. Sequel to One Last Moment.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Canon level violence, blood, angst, and language.

Beta’d by: @pinknerdpanda & @trexrambling

A/N:  This was written for Ang’s “Fierce Females in FanFiction” Challenge. My prompt was, “you made your choice and I made mine. Just because you can’t live with yours doesn’t mean you can shame me for living with mine.” It’s bolded within the fic.  This is a continuation of my fic, One Last Moment.

Sorry it’s so close to the wire @atc74 , my muse has been an elusive bitch.

“Exorcizamus te omnis immu-”

“I’m really going to enjoy taking everything from you,” the demon snarls. The cheerful pastel of her outfit makes her threat seem absurd.

“Lucky for me, I don’t have anything to take. Not anymore.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You know, lying to a Sunday School teacher is extra bad,” she giggles.

A knot forms in my gut. She can’t possibly know about him. I’ve covered my tracks. I know I’ve covered them, but a small wisp of doubt creeps into the back of my mind. Maybe. Maybe someone couldn’t keep their mouth shut.

“I can’t wait to wear his skin-” she gargles the blood in her mouth before spitting it at my feet- “so many perfect little freckles,” she finishes with a hiss and a maniacal smile.

When I found this demon, I had high hopes of sparing the possessed woman. His perfect face flashes into my memory. If I save the woman, I risk losing him forever.

I force myself to take an even breath before asking, “Who?”

“A lady never kisses and tells.”

“If you talk, I can make this quick for you.” Moonlight glints on the blade in my hand. “If you don’t…”

The demon squirms. “Where’d you get that?”

“I love thrift stores. You just never know what you’ll find.”

“You found an angel blade-” she shifts in her chair- “at a thrift store?”

“So what’ll it be, quick or slow?”

“I’ve always liked it slow,” she purrs.

___

Three times. That’s how many tries I make at unlocking my phone before I realize there’s too much blood on my hand for it to recognize my fingerprint.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Six years ago I turned my back on the only man I’d ever loved, the only man who had only ever loved me. I was done. I got out.

I finally get my phone unlocked and dial by memory. My heart beats faster with each ring. Just when I’m positive my heart will explode, Siobhan answers.

“Blessed b-”

“Cut the crap, Siobhan, it’s me.”

“Oh. What do you want? I’m a little busy.”

“Someone in your coven has a loose tongue, and I plan on cutting it out.”

“I’m positive you are mistaken. We’ve held up our end of the deal. It’s become apparent that you have not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Irene is dead. Her daughter made it back to tell us of her untimely demise before succumbing to her own wounds.”

“Did she know the doer?”

“No. She only said that they used witch killing bullets.”

“I’ll find who’s responsible and take care of it. In the meantime, up your warding around the house and keep an eye out.”

I don’t even need a full hand to count the number of hunters that know how to make witch killing bullets. One is me. The other two I had never planned on running into ever again.

___

“I’m telling ya, Sammy, I got her. It’s only a matter of time before she bleeds out.”

“That’s just perfect, Dean. If it weren’t for the fact that we needed her to find the coven.”

“Ok, fine, it’ll take a little longer than we planned. But hey, at least there’s free cable.”

Their bickering carries through the thin wood of the door. I kick back in my chair and prop my feet on the table, trying my best to sell the nonchalant vibe I am most certainly not feeling.

Dean shoulders through the motel door, freezing when he sees me.

Sam curses under his breath as he collides with his brother. “What the hell, Dean?”

A myriad of emotions rapidly shift Dean’s features before he settles on feigned indifference. “Get your dirty boots off the table, Y/n, people eat there.”

“Y/n?” Sam swipes the hair from his eyes and tucks it behind one ear. A face splitting grin amplifies his dimples. His smile quickly falters when I don’t return it.

I stay where I am. Feet propped up in defiance. “You guys need to leave town.”

Dean walks behind me on the way to the mini fridge, pulling on the back of my chair as he goes.

I pinwheel my arms and slam my feet to the floor in order to keep from falling over backward.

Sam nearly smirks, but manages to catch himself in the nick of time when I shoot him a glare. Dean, however, outright barks a laugh.

 “Listen here, you ass.” I feel my cheeks heat. “I’m not here to play games. You’re not welcome here and you need to leave. I’m not going to ask again.”

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re asking, Y/n.” Dean cracks open a beer and throws the cap in the direction of the sink. “Besides, we kind of like it here. Don’t we, Sammy? And leaving is more your sort of thing. If I’m not mistaken,” he adds with an icy glare.

Clenching my fists, I dig my nails into my palms and focus on the sharp sting so that I can keep my voice from wavering. “If you ever loved me, Dean, you’ll leave tonight and never come back.”

All of the color drains from Dean’s face.

“Are you in some sort of trouble, Y/n?” Sam asks, finally finding his voice.

“It’s trouble that I’m trying to avoid, Sam.” I head towards the door, pausing to rest a hand on Sam’s chest. “Please. Get him as far away from here as you can.”

I beeline for the door, hoping to make it back to my car before the tears burning my eyes fall. I make it exactly four steps across the parking lot when I hear the scuff of Dean’s stride behind me.  

“Tell me why.”

I freeze, midstep. “Because,” I weigh my next words carefully mustering as much venom as I’m capable of, “because everything you touch dies.”

I turn to face him, and his pained look is more than I can bear. But I press on, I have to. The stakes are too high for me to give in. I add the final nail to my coffin of lies.

“You’re a curse, Dean Winchester, and I wish I had never met you.”

I don’t stay to witness the fallout, but I imagine it looks the same as my shredded heart feels.

___

“It is done?” Siobhan drawls.

“I took care of the hunters. They’re not going to be a problem anymore. Do we still have a deal?”

“Your child will continue to receive the benefits of our protection. For as long as we have yours.”

I release a sigh. “How is he?”

“He grows in strength and beauty every day.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

“He remains unaware of his lineage.”

There are so many more questions I want to ask, but the less I know the better, the safer he is.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I answer it without checking the ID.

“Don’t hang up!” Sam blurts.

“Sam? How did you get this number?”

“That’s not really important right now. Have you seen Dean?”

“Not since this morning.”

“He went out to grab a drink, and he’s not picking up his phone. I’ve been to every dive bar in town. I can’t find him.”

“He’s probably just shacked up with some floozy for the night. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Sam. He’ll probably roll in in the morning, no worse for the wear.”

“You don-” he sighs-”he’s not like that anymore. Not since you left. Please, Y/n, just help me find him and I’ll never bother you again.”

My heart twists. “Have you tried tracking his phone?”    

____

“You’re positive this is the place?” I take in the gothic architecture and broken stained glass. It’s not technically a church anymore, but it’s still the last place I’d expect to find Dean on a Saturday night.

“This is the only place near the tower his phone pinged from just before I lost the signal.”

“Maybe his phone just died. You know he forgets to put it on the charger.”

“It was off, and then it was on, and then it was off again. Something else is going on; I know you can sense it too.”

“I think you’ve watched Star Wars one too many times, Obi Wan, because I’m not sensing anything. Other than the extreme dissatisfaction that I haven’t been able to remove my bra for the night.”

Sam snorts a laugh. “One quick sweep of the place.” He checks the clip on his weapon and chambers a round. “And if I’m wrong, you’ll be home in your pajamas in no time.”

I double check my weapon before following after him with a grumble. With my luck, he’s probably right and this night is going to go tits up real fast.

Sam waits for me by the heavy wooden entry doors. All merriment has been stripped from his face and replaced with grim calculation. With a tip of his head he motions to the trail of blood that disappears under the door.  

Stepping over the gruesome trail, I pull open the door and pray it doesn’t creak and give us away. Sam slips through and I follow, nearly colliding with him.

I step around him and follow his line of sight. At the front of the church, behind the pulpit, where usually there’s a sculpture of Christ on the cross- there’s Dean. He’s been stripped of his shirt and suspended upside down. There’s a puddle under him, and fresh blood drips from the wounds on his chest to join it. He doesn’t appear to be conscious. He better not be dead. I’ll kill him for being so reckless.

Sam nudges me, and I split off to the right while he takes the left.

The only place for someone to hide is the confessionals, and I quickly clear them. Whoever did this is in the wind.    

“Dean?” Sam whispers, reaching his brother.

Dean responds with a low groan. The sound sends relief flooding through my system, and I rush forward to help Sam.

“Hold on, man, we’re gonna get you down.” Sam’s voice is tight with worry.

By the time we get him loaded into the car, we’re all covered in his blood.

“I’ll sit in the back with him,” I offer, sliding into the backseat and settling Dean’s head in my lap.   

Like it’s second nature, my fingers stroke through his hair to comfort him. “Just hang in there, Dean, we’ll get you patched up.”

Dean nuzzles into my touch and drifts off. I close my eyes, and I can almost pretend it’s just like old times. His pained grunt when Sam hits a pothole reminds me that it’s not. Everything’s different now. Everything’s wrong.

___

Sam and I get Dean on his bed back at the hotel where we silently work to piece him back together. Most of the cuts are superficial, intended to elicit pain, not death.

“Who would do this, Sam?” I ask while double checking the tape on the dressings.

“It’s not like we have a shortage of enemies-” he pauses- “though we did just take out a couple of witches. This could be retaliation.”

“It’s not them,” I mutter.

“Wait, you know the coven we’re tracking?”

“Huh?” Shit. I exhale. “They’re not bad people. I have a deal with them. I offer them protection and they do the same for me.”

Sam’s look is cold. “I never thought you’d be the type to work with witches, Y/n.”

“Well neither did I, Sam, but a lot of things have changed that I never thought would.”

“What else have you guys been hunting in the area?”

“Nothing. The coven is what brought us here. You?”

“I found a couple of low level demons sniffing around. I handled them.”

“By the looks of Dean it would seem that their buddies are a little pissed.”

Dean groans in his sleep and, instinctively, I reach to comfort him.

“Looks like not everything has changed,” Sam points out.

I withdraw my hand. “Some habits die hard.”

“Dean never told me why you left.”

I shrug. “I couldn’t do it anymore, Sam. The ones we couldn’t save kept piling up.”

“Yet, here you are.”

“Yeah. Here I am.”

Sam stifles a yawn.

“Why don’t you grab some sleep? I’ll sit with Dean.”

“Are you sure you wanna stay?”

“I need to. Just until I know he’s okay.”

“I’ll go grab something to eat. Dean’ll be hungry when he wakes up.”

Once Sam leaves I slip beside Dean, laying close enough to feel his body heat but not close enough to disturb him. The constellations of freckles on his shoulders and chest peek out from the edges of the bandages. I still remember the names I gave them the last time I laid in bed with him.

A tear rolls down the side of my nose and silently lands on the pillow. I scoot a little closer to him and rest my head on his chest, over his heart. I focus on the steady rhythm beneath my ear, and it quiets the chatter in my head. I’d almost forgotten how still my mind could be.

Dean nuzzles into my hair with a sigh and, for one split second, I wish with everything in my soul that I could take it all back. All the hurt. The pain. The fights. The lies.

Even though he remains still, I feel him wake up. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” I whisper.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I know you didn’t mean it. You’ve always been a crap liar.”

“Have not.” I sit up and discreetly dab my nose with my sleeve.

Dean chuckles and then quickly sucks in a breath with a grimace.

“Serves you right for teasing me.”

An uncomfortable silence fills the space between us. Dean is the one to break it.

“Mind telling me why the demons you pissed off came after me? And why they’d think I’m hiding someone for you.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“I nearly lost my spleen. I think I deserve to know why, Y/n.”

Panic writhes like snakes in the pit of my stomach. “You’re right.”

I suck in a breath and move a little farther from him. “I need you to know I never meant for any of this to happen, and by the time I found out it was too late. I’d already left and it’s not like I could go back. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Spit it out.”

“It’s easier if I show you.” I dig my phone from my front pocket and swipe to the film reel before handing over the phone to Dean.

“His name is Thomas, and he’s almost six.”

Dean’s eyebrow knit together, and then his eyes blow wide. “What is this, Y/n?!” I scramble to move away from him, but he grips my wrist to keep me right where I am. “How could you?”

“I didn’t mean to,” my nose runs freely and I ignore it, “it just happened, and I’ve wanted to tell you so many times. But I just… couldn’t.”

“You had no right,” he growls.

“I had every right, Dean.” I wrench my arm from his grip and stand on wobbly legs. “I may have left, but you let me. You made your choice and I made mine. Just because you can’t live with yours doesn’t mean you can shame me for living with mine.”

“Choice?” he scoffs. “How could I possibly make a choice when I didn’t have all of the information?!”

Dean jumps from the bed, quickly doubling over.

“Just perfect. Now you’ve pulled your stitches! Get back in bed!”

I shove him towards the bed and he slaps away my hands.

“No! I want to see my son.”

I shove again and he collapses with a heavy thud. “You can’t see him. Not now. Not ever.”

“Bullshit. You don’t get to make that choice for me. Not anymore, Y/n.”

“He doesn’t even know you exist!”

Once again, Dean looks like I stabbed him directly in the heart- and twisted. “You didn’t even tell him about me? Where does he think his dad is?”

“You died in a car crash when he was just a baby… and so did I.”

“What?” he whispers, shocked. “You… abandoned him?”

“I didn’t abandon him, Dean. I gave him up to people that could protect him.”

“Where is he, Y/n?”

I suck in a breath and wrap my arms around my stomach. “He’s with the coven you and Sam are here hunting.”

“You gave our child to witches?!”

“I didn’t have a choice! From the moment he was born it was like he was a beacon to everything that went bump in the night! I couldn’t keep him safe. I wasn’t enough.”

“We could’ve kept him safe. Together.”

“Yeah, because you would’ve given up hunting, bought a house in suburbia and, what?  Punched a clock for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know what I would’ve done!” He runs his hands through his hair. “But I would’ve done something.”

“Well, I did do something. I found people strong enough to protect him. And as long as I protect the coven, they’ve agreed to shield his essence.”

“So we’re supposed to, what, forget about him?”

Hesitantly, I move forward and sit on the edge of the bed. “We do what our parents couldn’t do for us. We keep him as far from this life as we can.”  

“But,” tears spring into his eyes, “it’s not- it shouldn’t be like this.”

I take his hands in mine and twine our fingers. We sit in the painful silence surrounding us, both afraid to speak- afraid of the words we might say.

When I can take it no longer, I slip my hand from his. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Dean.”

He opens his mouth to speak, rethinks, and then closes it.

I jump to my feet and rush out of the door before he can say all the hateful things I know I deserve.

My stupid hands are shaking so badly by the time I get to my car that I can’t get the key in the door lock. “Dammit!” I punch the roof of the car, first in frustration, and then again because the pain it causes momentarily distracts me from the pain in my chest.

Warm arms that I immediately recognize as Dean’s encircle me, and I collapse into them with a sob.

Quickly, he spins me. Before I can register what’s happening his lips are pressed to mine. The salty taste of tears mixes with the taste of Dean, and I melt against his chest.

When he gives a pained grunt, I remember his injuries and pull away.

“Shit,” I gasp, checking his bandages. “Your stitches.”

“Screw my stitches,” he mumbles, pulling my hands back around his neck and pinning me against the car with his hips. “I’m not letting you leave, Y/n. Not again.”

“Bu-” I start to protest, and he silences me with another press of his lips.

Dean swipes his tongue along the seam of my lips and all thoughts of protesting flee my mind. I’m going to kiss him just like I’ve dreamed of kissing him every night since I left.

I don’t know what the future holds for us, perhaps no one does. But for tonight, at least, I’m going to pretend that we found a way to take it all back- and just maybe, if we’re really lucky,  move forward.

Need more Dean? Click HERE 

[a-winchester-fairytale]

Survival

Summary:  Sam and Dean have different views on how you are handling the loss of your family, but you know what you really think will help you survive and you will not stop until you get it. 

Word Count: 1,928

Warnings:  minor character death, loss of family, canon violence, thoughts of anger and revenge

A/N:  This is written for @atc74 Fierce Female Challenge.  My prompt was "I will never apologize for how I choose to survive" and is bolded below. 

You could feel the wind blowing your hair behind you just like you could feel Dean’s eyes on your back as he leaned against the driver’s side door of the impala, watching your every move, waiting for you to break.  He didn’t know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t.  In spite of the empty house before you, the freshly dug graves nearby, the echoes of their screams hiding in your ears, you had no intention of breaking down here.  You just wanted to remember it, every single inch of it, seared into the recesses of your mind so you would know the price it cost to live the life you did.

There was no simple home with loving families in the future – not for Dean, not for Sam, not for any hunters, and especially not for you, not anymore.

Three months later……

“She’s not the same.”  Sam whispered, worry filled his voice.  Dean just shrugged as he took another bite of the burger in front of him.

“You wouldn’t be either, Sam.”  He mumbled, whipping his mouth with a napkin as he did.  Sam pushed his food away from him, his eyes focused out of the diner window as you stood near the car, talking to some police station in northern Virginia about the next case.

“It’s been three months.  I’m just saying maybe we should get her to talk about it.”  Sam suggested, knowing exactly what kind of reaction he was going to get from his older brother even as the words left his mouth.

“She lost her family man. No amount of talking is going to change that.”  Dean told him without looking up.

“Come on, we have another lead.”  You said, stepping up the table before Sam had a chance to respond.

“Don’t you want something to eat?”  Sam asked, gesturing to the menu on the table.  “Or some rest?”  He offered a little softer.

“Plenty of time to rest once I’m dead.”  You teased, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.   Sam groaned and stood up putting some money on the table to cover the bill and following you and Dean out to the impala.

“I think if we take I90 out of here we can save about an hour.”  You were telling Dean when Sam got in and closed his door.

“Y/N, I’m really worried about you.  Are you sure you don’t want….”  Sam started, but you flopped back in the rear seat with a dramatic sigh and he paused.

“Dean, you want to help me out here?”   You asked, instead of responding directly to Sam.

“No chick flick moments.”  Dean told him, chuckling at the bitch face he got in return. 

Sam started to say something else, but instead he turned back around and stared out of the passenger side window.  You glanced up at him, biting at your bottom lip before shaking away the thoughts in your mind and studying the map.

By the time the three of you had reached the small rural town off the interstate, you had already figured out that the monster you were hunting was holding up in an old abandoned warehouse.  The three of you checked into a small motel and waited for dark to be safe.

When the impala finally pulled up in front of the warehouse, you jumped out and began grabbing what you needed from the trunk of the car.

“I’m going around the back side to check things out.”  Dean told you.  You nodded, handing him his pistol from the back of the car.  “If I’m not back in five minutes, you come in through there.”  He added, pointing to the small metal door in front. 

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm as he started toward the opposite end of the building.  “You don’t even know what’s in there, Dean.  You should stick together.”  He scolded.  Dean glanced back to where you were waiting.

“I know exactly what we are after, Sam.  It’s the same thing we have been hunting for the past three months, and this is the first time we have been close enough to end this.”  Dean told him, shocked that Sam hadn’t figured out why you had been going from one hunt to the next without a break inbetween.

Sam released his hold on Dean and with a quick slap to his little brother’s shoulder, Dean hustled around to the backside of the warehouse.  You double checked your watch, feeling impatient as the seconds ticked along slower than usual.  The feeling of being so close to the only thing you were fighting for had you so distracted you didn’t even hear Sam step up beside you.

“You’ve been tracking it.  This entire time, all these cases, it has all been about killing that monster, hasn’t it?” 

“So what if it is?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Don’t do this.”  Sam begged.  “I don’t want to watch you turn into an obsessed hunter like dad was.”

You shrugged off his words, kicking at the rocks in the road with the tip of your boot.  You knew the way John hunted after the yellow eyed demon was a sore spot with Sam.

“That’s a cheap shot, Sam.” You told him.  “Besides, you were the same way when it killed Jess if I remember.”

“Yeah, and where did that get me?”  He challenged, refusing the let go. 

You glared at him, your pride and anger refusing to let your heart hear the love behind his words.  “I will never apologize for how I choose to survive.”  You told him, turning on your heel and marching into the warehouse.

You wondered for a moment if Dean had made it inside, but you trudged on as quietly as you could.  There was no turning back now, not when you were finally this close.  You heard Sam come inside after you, only a couple of yards away, but you knew the argument was over for now.

The weight of the gun in your hand was a familiar feeling and it gave you confidence to continue your steps forward, checking each door you came to before moving toward the staircase at the end.  You could hear voices down below and you paused to try and guess at the numbers. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder, startling you for an instant and you snapped your head around to see Dean behind you.

“There are three of them.”  He whispered.  You nodded and pointed to Sam to make sure he knew you were heading down the stairs.

You thought it was unusual that Dean let you lead the way down the steps, but took the opportunity gratefully.  You had no way of knowing that Dean had known for months what you had been hunting and he knew it was something you had to do.

It wasn’t much of a fight when the three of you made it to the bottom.  The first two fought back, engaging Sam and Dean, while the third took off running.  It only took a single glance to know he was the one you were after, the face that had haunted you for last three months since that night and you gave chase.

The sound of boots hitting the ground echoed through the empty warehouse, drowning out the sound of Sam and Dean calling out your name.  He turned a corner and you picked up the pace, pushing yourself forward with everything you had inside you, determined not to lose this chance.  As you slid around the edge of the wall, he stood at a dead end, searching for a place to go.

“Stop!”  you shouted, raising the gun again.  He raised his arms out beside him in surrender.  “Turn around.”  You added, your heart pounding in your ears as he slowly moved to face you.

“I know you.”  He hissed.  “Is that what this is about?  That family in South Dakota?”

“That was my family.”  You told him.  Although you felt like you were shaking, your hands remained steady.  You felt a burning anger in your chest and the images you saved in your mind flooded their way forward as he sneered at you.

Your brother, your parents, your niece….their smiles were gone and their laughter was silent.  Now there was nothing more than a hollow memory of what things used to be like before he took all of it away from you.

“You are a hunter.  You should have known better.”  He warned, playing on the truths that all hunters swore by. 

“No, you should have.”  You threatened.  In that moment, he lunged for you and when you pulled the trigger, the shot rang out in deafening volumes. 

You were still staring at his lifeless form when Sam and Dean raced up behind you, worried that the shot had meant they were too late to help you.  You could see the relief on their faces, but you couldn’t understand why you didn’t feel it too.

You silently helped them clean up the warehouse and loaded back up into the impala to head back to the hotel for the night.

After Sam fell asleep, Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the motel fridge and stepped outside.  He saw you leaning against the trunk of the impala, staring at the cars traveling by on the highway.  You hadn’t said a word since leaving the warehouse that afternoon, and he didn’t know if you would now, but he sighed and walked out to the back of the car anyway.  You gladly took the beer from his outstretched hand and simply slid over so he could join you.

“It’s over now, and you still have that same look you did on your face three months ago.”  Dean told you.  “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I thought it would help.”  You answered, your eyes remaining focused on the highway.  Dean looked down, knowing all too well that feeling.

“Revenge seldom helps once you get it.”  He replied.  “The anger drives you along and keeps you from dwelling on what you lost and once you succeed; there is nothing to hide behind anymore.”

You sighed, looking at Dean and really seeing him for the first time in months.  He reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek. 

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this.”  You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut at the way your voice broke.

“Y/N, being tough doesn’t mean you can never break down or ask for help.  You are the strongest person I know and the fact that you have been through the things you have and are still here to fight another day….that makes you strong.”  He stood up straight so he could face you.  He held your face in his hand so that he could make you look at him as he finished.  “If that means you break down, scream, cry, punch a wall, kick ass, or lock yourself up in your room….none of that can take away from the person you are in my eyes.”

You pushed yourself away from the car and into his arms, leaning your head against his chest.  You felt his arms tighten their hold around you and he gently kissed your hair.  You let a few tears fall, knowing that they were only the first of many to come as you learned to go through life without your family, but you felt a new kind of strength and comfort in the knowledge that you had another family now and you would never be alone.

Read more from my Masterlist here

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[atc74]

Fierce Females in FanFiction - the Master List

These ladies certainly showed up and showed everyone how strong and fierce they really are! 

Thank you to everyone that participated in this fierce challenge!

All stories below the cut. 

The Promise - Prepare for Battle (Dean x Reader, ex Sam x Reader flangst)

Hold On Loosely @alleiradayne (Dean x OFC Elizabeth)

She Became the Flame @crashdevlin (Mary Winchester)

Wrong Impression @waywardnerd67 (Dean x Reader)

Take It All Back @wheresthekillswitch (Dean x Reader)

Love Will Triumph @saxxxology (Sam x Reader)

Warrior @wegoddessofhell (Dean x OFC Alyssa)

Forever After @evansrogerskitten (Dean x Reader AU)

A Beautiful Storm @wi-deangirl77 (Sam, Reader)

Something Like That @roxyspearing (Reader, pairing?) 

Blood and Thunder @iwantthedean (no pairing)

Two Twin Arrows @arazialotis (no pairing)

Chaos and Destruction @hannahindie (Dean x Reader)

Not Another Flower to be Picked @horsegirly99 (Dean x Reader)

Survival @a-winchester-fairytale​ (no pairing)

[iwantthedean]

Blood & Thunder

Summary: Lucifer threatens the safety and sanity of the Winchesters again, but you take it upon yourself to stop him from ever being a problem again.  Pairing: None.  Word Count:  Warnings: Blood, death, Lucifer. Mentions of torture (not detailed).  Challenge: Angelina’s 3K Fierce Females Challenge. My prompt is in bold. Ang, thank you for letting me be a part of this challenge. You are amazing.  A/N: You don’t have to read these first, but it adds to the story: Sitting Next to You//Don’t Need You For Sh*t//All Fall Down

After your breakdown, Sam and Dean were careful to keep the hunt as far away from you as possible. They let you do research, document new lore, but that was about it. Torture and killing monsters was out of the question. 

You didn’t mind; it was probably for the best. That dark root in your soul was ever-present, and activating it was simply not healthy for anyone involved. You found a job in Lebanon so that you could pull your own weight. As you fell into a more normal routine, you considered leaving the bunker and the boys behind. That dark root in your soul, however, kept you from leaving the security of your life as it was now. 

“It’s Lucifer,” Sam sighed, shoving his laptop away. “I know it is. I can feel him.”

You were sitting not far from him at the war room table, carefully documenting his notes on the most recent ghoul hunt. Your eyes met his; you licked your lips. 

“Are you sure?”

“I said I can feel him, Y/N,” Sam said, more stern this time.

You swallowed and nodded. “Are you going to tell Dean?”

Sam sniffed. He considered you, considered his laptop, considered the notch in the table. Without answering your question, he went back to his screen. 

Later that night, you lay awake in your room, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t blame Sam for not wanting to tell Dean that Lucifer had made his return. After all, you had spent weeks wondering at the dark presence seeming to loom over you. It wasn’t until Sam said the name that your suspicions regarding that presence were confirmed. 

“He can’t do this again,” you mumbled to yourself as thoughts of Sam’s other battles with Lucifer ran through your brain. You thought of Dean, watching his brother waste away. The Winchester brothers had been there for you when you fell apart, but if Lucifer crashed into their lives again … you weren’t sure you were strong enough to pull those pieces back together. 

With a quick decision, you got out of bed, dressed, and packed a quick bag. Dean was going to rip you up one side and down the other, but you didn’t care. You were strong enough for this. After grabbing an item from the lockbox under your bed, you quickly and quietly slipped out of the bunker. You set out on foot, suspecting that, with your thoughts out in the open, it wouldn’t be long for Lucifer to find you. 

“Trekking out alone, little half-demon?” 

The darkness in your soul grew more dense in Lucifer’s presence. With a smirk, you turned to face the rebellious archangel; part of you hated how good it felt to have the evil takeover again. Part of you rejoiced in it. 

“Half? Hardly. The fraction of me that is demon is minuscule,” you corrected. “What are you doing on Earth, Lucifer?”

His bottom lip pouted out. “What, no Welcome Wagon? This is the first time you and I have met since you were possessed after all. Sure, the darkness in your soul isn’t going to win you any awards or get you land or a place in Hell or anything, but I figure some part of you must be happy to see me.”

“Right,” you scoffed. “You know why I’m out here, waiting for you. Let’s just get to the point, shall we?”

Lucifer took in a deep, chest-rising breath as he stepped towards you. Though you were now inches away from the second-greatest evil man had ever encountered, fear was an unknown emotion. You knew what you were doing, and you were ready to execute your plan. 

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” he sighed, pacing but keeping the proximity with you. “You really want to sacrifice yourself for the Winchesters? You wouldn’t be the first in a long line of idiots to do so, you know.”

You nodded, your face taking on a sad but confident expression. “I know that. But Sam and Dean, they’ve done a lot for me. It’s time I re-pay them.”

“Re-pay them?” Lucifer laughed; a deep belly laughter that had him bending forward before he composed himself. “The months of torture? The mental breakdown? That wasn’t enough.”

“Me, torturing for you. In exchange, you leave Sam and Dean alone. Take it or leave it, Lucifer.”

He sucked on his teeth, crossed his arms over his chest, and considered you from head to toe. “I have some contingencies, as well. You’re a talented torturess, Y/N, I cannot deny that. But that doesn’t give you the upper-hand. I will accept your deal. I’ll go back to Hell, but you’ll come with me. You’ll torture when I ask you, no backtalk and, when you’re not torturing … you’ll stay in The Cage.”

The Cage. Days, hours, weeks, months of isolation were facing you now, right along with the work that had broken you. With more determination than ever, you nodded. 

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and immediately, instead of standing next to a gravel road, you were in the dark, dank corner of Hell where Lucifer had once been held prisoner. This cage was your home now. 

Days and weeks passed. Months became a year. In the back of your mind, you knew that time on Earth was passing slowly. You had been gone for what Sam and Dean would perceive as a month. Were they looking for you? Had they figured out where you disappeared to?

Being exiled to The Cage had not been part of your plan. Sometimes you paced, sometimes you sat. When you weren’t torturing others at Lucifer’s discretion, you were alone with your thoughts. How you even knew a specific period of time had passed was beyond you; you never slept. There was no day and night. Only being, or something like it. 

One day, Lucifer came to The Cage to find you laying down, staring into nothing. The fatigue of torture, of the souls you had so brutally injured, showed on your face and in your muscles. Oh, you were as fit as ever, but that heaviness, that darkness … it once again moved to close in on you. 

Lucifer took your hand and helped you up from the ground. He hugged you to his chest; you had become some kind of pet to him in the time you had spent in Hell. Not that he was particular hurt to see you hurting, but he recognized your human need to be comforted. 

In the end, that moment of humanity would be Lucifer’s undoing. 

He smoothed back you hair and shushed your small whimpered. He rocked you back and forth. Your moment was coming. You could feel it just as strong and clear as Sam could feel Lucifer’s presence the day this all had begun. 

This was the moment. 

In the deepest recesses of Hell, the Devil comforted a dark, broken soul. He stroked her hair and let a smug smile tug at his lips. 

The Devil whispered, “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm.”

She whispered back, “I am the storm.”

The expression of accomplishment at seemingly breaking another soul faded from Lucifer’s face as the Lance of Michael pierced his side. 

“Ironic, isn’t it,” you whispered into his ear as he fell. You twisted the lance, drawing a pained groan from Lucifer’s throat. “Do you know that when I tortured Ramiel, before I killed him, he didn’t only tell me where to find this beauty, but he told me everything about it. Invisibility is, by far, my favorite of all its attributes.”

Blood gurgled up and out of his mouth; you watched the life drain away from Lucifer — and it wasn’t just his vessel. The dark part of your soul could feel that evil fire in Lucifer’s soul dimming until all that remained were the charred embers of what once was. 

You didn’t linger long. You stepped over the limp carcass at your feet, once again hid away the Lance of Michael, and navigated to Hell’s throne room. 

“Devils and crossroads demons,” you scoffed as you stood at the double doors. “They have ruined this place for long enough. Time for someone else to rule.”

You stepped through the doors and through the throng of demons whispering to themselves, and stepped up to the throne before sitting, straight and confident, in a chair that many coveted. The plan you had made in that one quick moment a month ago in the bunker was finally coming to fruition. 

“It’s time for a woman to rule.”

The Whole Shebang: @illisea @ashleymalfoy @busybee612 @mrswhozeewhatsis @sherlock44 @ravenesque @feelmyroarrrr @atc74 @jensen-jarpad @theplaidshirtmadness @blacktithe7 @moonlessnight14 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @smoothdogsgirl @melbrandes @xtina2191 @spnbaby-67 @emoryhemsworth @goldenolaf25 @gabriels-trix @applesugar88 @rainflowermoon @deansgirl215 @thisismysecrethappyplace 

[waywardnerd67]

Wrong Impression

Summary: (Y/N) runs into the famous Winchester Brothers while on a hunt. Dean’s first impression of her infuriates her and she makes a point to change his opinion of her.   Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1436 Prompt: “Assuming I was like most girls was your first mistake.” A/N #1: For @atc74 F3 Challenge A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

(Y/N) parked her car right outside the dingy bar where she had tracked down some vamps. Looking in the rearview mirror she pushed her thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose and tighten the ponytail on the crown of her head.

Looking at her, no one would ever know she was a hunter. Driving from state to state killing monsters that went bump in the night. After losing her fiancé to a nest of vampires, she vowed to take every fang out of existence. She had heard what other hunters had to say about her and could not care less about it. Her methods for hunting had not failed her yet.

She grabbed her messenger bag from the backseat with her laptop in it and made her way into the bar. The stench of beer and leather hit her like a tidal wave. (Y/N) made her way to an empty booth pulling out her laptop and turning it on. She looked around seeing nothing but bikers and prostitutes lingering around.

That is when her eyes fell upon two men sitting at a table across the bar. They were speaking adamantly with one another. The men seemed familiar and then she caught a glimpse of the shiny blade at one of their sides.

“Hunters.” She whispered to herself rolling her eyes. (Y/N) did not play well with others and more so when she was on a fang case.

She watched as the man with longer hair pointed to a group in the back of the bar. The other man turned around and she got a better look of him. His short sandy brown hair was spiked up messily. He wore a flannel shirt over a plain t-shirt and jeans along with a canvas jacket. It was his eyes that caught her by surprise. Even from across the bar, they were bright green shining in the low lighting.

“Damn, pretty boy hunters.” She chuckled to herself. Unbeknownst to her, she had caught the attention of the very vampire she had tracked there.

He was decked out in all denim with slicked back hair. He smiled down at her, “Hey gorgeous, what’s a good girl like you doing in a place like this?”

His picked line made her want to vomit but she swallowed the urge down placing her best innocent smile on her lips, “I just need a place to connect my laptop too, so I can get a bus ticket back home. I’m… I’m kind of lost.”

His smile got impossibly bigger as she hooked him easily. “Well you’re in luck because I can help you find your way back. Just come with me.”

“Really? Oh, thank you so much.” She said packing up her things quickly and following the vamp outside.

She glanced back to take one last look at the pretty boy hunter and saw they were no longer there. “Crap.” She thought to herself.

The vamp led her out to the far end of the parking lot where there were hardly any cars. No one from the bar would be able to hear her if she screamed which was good for when she sliced this guy’s head off.

She touched the handle of her blade hidden beneath her jacket, “So where are we going?” she asked her voice soft and innocent.

Counting in her head down from three the vampire attacked as she hit the number one. Pressing her against the car nearest them and as she was about to fend him off he was suddenly pulled off her. She watched as the taller of the hunters stood in between her and the vamp.

“Everything will be okay. Go ahead and get out of here.” He said to her keeping her back from the vamp.

The green-eyed hunter had the vamp kneeling on the ground and he looked up to his partner, “Get her out of here Sammy.”

The one nearest to her grabbed her arm pulling her away. She began to fight him off as he picked her up, “I’m not going to hurt you. Just want to get you to safety.”

(Y/N) watched as the other hunter was distracted for a split second and the vampire saw an opening to attack. He knocked the man down hovering over me with his teeth descending. The man set her down turning around, “Dean!” he yelled running towards him.

The names registered inside (Y/N)’s head, “Sam and Dean… Winchester.” She whispered having heard all about the famous brothers.

The vampire kicked Sam away as he lowered his mouth down towards Dean, “Winchesters. I’m going to enjoy draining you.”

(Y/N) did not waste any time pulling her blade out and slicing the vamp’s head clean off. Dean pushed the body off him getting up quickly as Sam walked towards him holding his stomach. The two famous hunters look to her stunned.

“Damn, missy miss didn’t need our help apparently.” Dean said kicking the vamp’s head lightly.

She rolled her eyes wiping her blade down with a rag in her bag, “There’s at least three more vamps inside. Do you think you two can keep from getting bit long enough to finish out the nest?” She asked walking back towards the bar not waiting for their answer.

She could hear their heavy footsteps behind her as she approached the bar. The side door opened as the rest of the vamps came walking out. “Damn, I told Luke not to mess with that chick. He can never resist a school girl.” One of the vamps said her eyes traveling the length of (Y/N)’s body.

“What can I say, I’ve always had horrible taste in men.” (Y/N) said with a smirk as Sam and Dean came along either side of her.

“Winchesters, when did you get a pet nerd? Where’s Luke?” she asked them not even giving (Y/N) a second glance.

She started laughing as the brothers looked at her like she was crazy, “Luke kind of lost his head over me.”

The female vampire narrowed her eyes at (Y/N) a low menacing growl coming from her ruby red lips, “You’ll pay for that bitch.”

“Eat me, Twilight.” (Y/N) said with a smirk pushing her glasses up before bringing out her blade.

In one brief instant everyone was perfectly still to see who would make the first move then in a single breath the vamp lounged at her. The three hunters each took on a vamp fighting against them. Sam easily cut off his vamp’s head just as (Y/N) did to hers. Dean had taken on the biggest of the three and was having a hard time.

(Y/N) walked up behind the vamp and swung easily through his undead flesh as his body crumbled before her. Dean’s olive eyes looked down to her in awe as she wiped off blood splatter from her face. “You okay there, princess?” she asked.

His brow furrowed, and his lips were in a tight straight line, “I’m fine. Thanks.” His voice was slightly strained in annoyance.

Sam was chuckling off to the side watching his brother grumpily walk towards their famous black Chevy. As she walked up to her car parked next to them Dean gawked at her, “This is yours?”

(Y/N) nodded proudly running her hand over her beloved 1967 Chevy Chevelle, “Yes she is. I rebuilt her myself.”

Dean’s jaw slacked as he affectionately looked from the car to her. She raised an eyebrow at him, “Spit it out Winchester.”

“I… I thought you were like most girls or the damsel in distress, but you are far from it. You’re awesome.” He said his deep voice filled with admiration. Sam was now rolling his eyes chuckling.

(Y/N) walked over to Dean, pushing him against his car and pressing her body against his feeling every firm muscle in his chest, “Assuming I was like most girls was your first mistake. See you around, pretty boy hunter.”

She pressed her lips to his cheek and walked away from him getting in her car. As she drove away she watch bright eyes and wide smile watch her tail lights drive away. Chuckling she said to herself, “Good god, I hope he calls.”

Within a few hours, without knowing her name or anything about her, she was sitting in her motel room and there was a knock on the door. (Y/N) answered the door with her hands on her hips, “Took you long enough pretty boy.”

He scooped her up kicking the door shut with his foot and carried her to the bed where she got to show him who she really was.

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Tags: #Angelina’s F3 Challenge

Due: 01/05/19

[arazialotis]

Two Twin Arrows

This was written for the wonderful and fabulous @atc74 Fierce Females in Fanfiction Challenge as a celebration for her amazing achievement of reaching 3000 followers!! Thanks babe for hosting this fun challenge! 

Prompt: I am Strong Because I had to be. I will take back what is mine and give nothing in return.

Word Count: Around 2600

Summary: When your twin brother goes missing, you will do everything in your power to track him down and bring him home. 

Warnings: Language

                                                             ***

Your little brother was perhaps the single most important piece of your life; he meant everything to you. Of course, you were technically twins, but being born nine days earlier gave you an advantageous head start. You even helped your mother through his birth. And when you held him, so small and vulnerable in your arms, his laugh as bright as the sun, you vowed on that day to do everything in your power to protect him; always.

Yet when you swore that promise, you had yet to realize the gravity behind it. It was soon after that it dawned on you that you and Apollo were destined to be exact opposites. He the sun, you the moon; you chaste and pure and he… Well, to say promiscuous would be putting it lightly. You were cunning and thoughtful and he was impulsive and impetuous, proning him to all types of trouble you’d bail him from. So when he went missing, and he often did, it didn’t surprise you.

Two weeks was fine, but at three weeks you started to worry. And as the weeks turned into months you knew you had to go looking for him. The last time he went missing was for a month and a half in the roaring twenties. You tracked him down to New York City and discovered him in the middle of a bender so infamous, Dionysus himself was envious. Had mortals shown an ounce of respect for gods these days, Apollo would have at least one or two more stories to add to his repertoire.

After that, the two of you stayed in the New World, occasionally travelling here or there, for family engagements. As much as possible, you kept a low profile, and tried to convince your brother to as well. It worked, for the most part.

This time after he went missing, naturally, you started with the party towns and after hearing about a ‘miracle’ in Las Vegas where the sun didn’t set for three days time, you knew you had found the place to start. Knowing Apollo had a flair for extravagance, you started at the top, working your way down. But even the Bentel & Bentel penthouse suite at the Cosmopolitan Hotel was a but flashy, even for him.

The signs of his inhabitants were all to clear, but he had not returned even after several days. You started pursuing club surveillance, finally pinning him to the Emerald Gentlemen's Club. It was his last known whereabouts and the last place he was seen. All other traces of him had vanished. It was as if he didn’t want to be found. But on the video surveillance, two days later popped up another face. One you were all to familiar with. One Apollo had several run ins with that often lead to trouble. The trickster.

You hunted him down to the desolate wasteland of North Dakota, hiding like a fox in a hole. His private resort was carved into the side of a mountain, easily overlooked by the untrained eye. But Loki’s desire for luxury undid him. It glowed as obvious as a candle in the night, calling you in.

You lurked in the shadows for days. Watching, waiting, but Apollo never showed. You finally revealed yourself once you had enough of the cheating rat’s trickery. He was in the middle of a poker game, porn stars in barely nothing dancing around polls opposite of him. Three other men, all gruff placed bets. He lifted his his face, when you saw it. His two cards were four, all aces.

Your restraint could no longer be contained. You lifted your bow, sliding an arrow into place and without hesitation let it release. It tore right through the cards, pinning them to the table. The three gentlemen looked down at the table seeing the four cards displayed. They eyed Loki dangerously.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Fellas, those aren’t mine.” One man threw his hand down on the table, before rolling up his sleeves. But Loki paused the scene before it continued. “And neither is this.” He pried the arrow from the table, the illusion faded as he further examined it. The people, the cards, the drinks, all vanished leaving only you, him, and the furnishings. “Come out Katniss.” He goaded.

You bravely stepped out of the shadows.

“My… Athena… Haven’t you changed with the times.” He looked you up and down; your black skinny jeans tucked into dark boots., studded leather jacket over a silk red top, and your hair hanging down in curls.

“It’s Artemis, you pig.” You held you bow close.

“Ah yes.” He recalled. “All of you are so hard to keep straight. Don’t even get me started with the whole Roman thing…” He walked over to a wooden bar pouring himself a drink. “So what can I do ya for? I make a mean Sex on the Beach.” He offered before taking a sip.

You ignored the proposal. “I’m here for information. It’d be wise you answer truthfully in interest of your well being.” You paused and for a moment your curiosity got the better of you. “Is it true what they say about you?”

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “And what do they say about me? That I can last nights on end, that I have the endurance of a panther, that Aphrodite got half her stories from me, that Zeus wishes he had a pair like…” You squinted at him. “You dare tempt me?”

He chuckled. “Oh god no. I was just hoping that cute brother of yours was going to pop out of a shadow in a jealous rage. But it looks like I’m out of luck.”

Your hope dropped. “You’ve not seen Apollo?” Loki sighed. “Listen, I like to get wrapped up in a Greek tragedy at least once every century as much as the next guy, but when you guys start dropping in for holidays, come on, it starts to cramp my style.” You tucked your bow back into it’s satchel and turned to leave. But he grabbed your shoulder before you could. “Arty…” He cood. “What’s happened?”

You shook your head. “I’m sure nothing. You know how he is.”

“Let me suggest two things.” He held up a finger. “First, get a beeper for that kid. Second.” He pulled a card out of thin air. “Maybe it’s time to call in a favor from your patron saints…” You took the card. Eyeing it with suspicion. It was an FBI business card, with the name Agent Robert Plant and a phone number. Obviously a fake. Obviously a hunter. You looked back to Loki. “Thanks, but I got this.” You turned to leave again. “By the way. It looks like you might be molting… Gabriel.” 

And with that he was left in the room alone. He looked down to his feet where a few golden feathers had collected. “Dammit!” He cursed.

***

Outside a small town in Iowa, you stayed in a rundown motel off of a dying highway route. In its glory days, southern tourists bound for Mt. Rushmore must have filled it to the brim. But now, in it’s secludedness and stillness, it was the perfect place to reconvene and focus. You twirled the business card back and forth between your fingers; considering it. If these hunters had any idea who you were or half the things you’ve done, they wouldn’t hesitating putting a stake through your chest. And Apollo… well, if they caught wind of him, there’s no telling what would happen.

You had arrogance, yes, but not the arrogance of other gods that would dismiss hunters as any other ape. You had to be smart, cunning, to treat them with respect, or your fate could easily end up as any other monster on their hit list.

Finally, you worked through your hesitation and dialed the number, faking the best damsel in distress act as you could. You simply needed to keep him on the line long enough to triangulate his position, then you could go to him, gauging his usefulness, if he proved otherwise, you could easily slip away with your presence going entirely unnoticed.

“Hello.” A strong, deep voice answered.

“Uh… hello, um Agent Plant?” You stuttered, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“Yes?” His confusion quickly grew.

“I um, I got your number from a friend, Sally Hanson, I’m not sure if you remember, she says you helped her a few years back on a case…” You fabricated, but intently kept an eye on your laptop as the tracking software was running.

There was a pause as he tried to recall. “Oh, right, of course… Sally.” Even though there was confidence in his voice, you could tell it was complete bullshit. “Well, what seems to be troubling you.”

You sighed. “You see… it’s my brother, he’s been missing near two weeks. I haven’t been able to contact him.”

“Have you filed a missing persons report?” He asked, trying to fish out details of the case.

“Of course, but the local police haven’t been too helpful… Unfortunately, my brother has a bit of a reputation around here.” Actually the story came easier than you thought.

“And uh, what makes you think he simply hasn’t started fresh somewhere else?”

“Well, that does seem like him, but we’ve always been so close. He would never leave and not tell me.” You explained, heart hurting more and more as you began to diverge the truth.

“Well…” He chewed on it. “I’m not sure it’s exactly my type of case, I got a few things lined up, but if I have any openings….”

Shit. You needed a few more minutes. “I’m just so worried about him.” You interrupted. “There’s been other missing people too. With the police not helping I’ve tried to do my own investigation you know. And I started at this old hangout of his. And it’s just like creepy you know. I know I must be imagining things but there is just this chill that comes over you as...:” Bingo. You pinned him nearby Lebanon, Kansas.

He assumed you had stopped unable to continue from sadness or fear. “Okay sweetheart, just calm down. I’ll run the details by my partner and we’ll try to be out in a couple days. Where are you at anyways.”

“Oh…” You chuckled. “This is so embarrassing. He’s uh calling me right now. I’ll give you a call back if we need anything.” And you abruptly hung up, quickly switching off your phone so he couldn’t track you.

After taking a minute to breathe, you shook of any remainder of the act, for a damsel in distress you were surely not. You pack your things and checked out of the motel, heading for Lebanon.

***

Lebanon. It was a extremely small town. To say it was a one-horse town would be a vast understatement. But that made your hunt all the more easy. You set up shop at the only food market in town and waited.

It was two days before he showed up. His car stood out like a sore thumb. It was old enough to be handed down through the generations, taken well care of, countless of miles put on it, and modifications to the trunk. You expected a hunter, but the man not who stepped out of the car.

Your heart dropped. Instantly recognizing him from the security footage you reviewed time and time again in Vegas. But the fear was instantly replaced by boiling anger. Apollo wasn’t dead, yet. You could feel it. He couldn’t be. And not from the hands of this hunter. As he lazily strenched, you jolted from your car catching him by surprise. You grabbed his wrist, using the force to push him up against the car. He struggled a bit but you had him pinned.

“Where is he?!” You demanded.

Dean pondered trying to catch up. “Listen, sweetheart..” He started.

You cut him off, shoving him hard against the car. “Call me that one more time.” You warmed. “Where is my brother?”

“Why don’t you just calm down and we can find him together.” Dean attempted to de-escalate your anger.

“I’m not taking your bullshit hunter.” You spat. “You were there. In Las Vegas. When he disappeared.” Tears threatened to spill over.

It took him a second, but then it clicked. “I might know where he is. How about all three of us meet up tonight…” He stopped when he felt his hands being tied together. “You will take me to him now.”

You took the keys from his pocket, opened the door and shoved him inside. You slid into the driver’s seat, next to him.

“Oh hell no.” He protested as you started up the car.

Just by briefly looking around it was easy to see the car was occupied usually by three. “Don’t bother trying to notify your partners.” You noticed he already seemed to be looking for a knife to pry out of the ropes. “The more you resist the restraints the tighter they become.” “What are you?” Dean huffed as you pulled out of the parking lot. “Witches, demons.”

You lightly chuckled but did not grant him the satisfaction of an answer.

***

It took a while to find his location, he not being the most helpful or willing subject. But his emotions became easier to read the more time spent with him. The subtle gritting of teeth or sighs of relief each correct or incorrect turn you made, it led you closer to the destination until you finally arrived.

You led Dean through the entrance, dagger at his back to hinder him or his partners from trying anything. The door swung open with a heavy creak leading into the hideout below. To be honest, you were impressed with the space.

“Dean?” Someone called from below. His younger brother. Taller, longer hair, but still a touch of youthfulness that Dean lacked.

“Hiya Sammy.” Dean drearily greeted.

Sam reached for the gun in his back pocket, but your second dagger buzzed threw the air dislodging it before it was even pointed at you.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked through the shock.

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks.” Dean scoffed.

“I’m strong because I had to be.” You explained as Dean felt the dagger press harder against his back. “Born into a world of vengeful and sex crazed gods, I didn’t have any other choice. Now, I will take back what is mine and give nothing in return.”

Sam still had confusion plastered across his face, attempting to work out what Dean already had. Everyone’s attention broke at the sound of a coffee mug shattering against the floor. You turned to the sound, expecting their third partner but instead finding your fool of a brother in a bathrobe.

“Arty?” He sheepishly asked.

“Apollo.” You sighed a breath of relief and released Dean, running towards him. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” You checked him over.

He rolled his eyes. “Arty you are embarrassing me.”

When all seemed right, you punched him square in the shoulder. “What the hell? You can’t just disappear on me like that.”

“Ow.” He moaned and rubbed the spot on impact. “Can you blame me? They’re cute.” He defended. “I didn’t need you up in my business ruining everything. You’re kinda a cock blocker.”

As you argued back and forth, Dean made his way slowly down the stairs and joined Sam, marvelling in wonderment.

“Turns out we’ve had a god living with us, right under our noses.” Dean commented.

Apollo’s argument sounded over them. “Besides, anytime there was a successful hunt, I burnt offerings of incense to you.”

“Like that matters!” You spat.

“For a whole month….” Sam added to his and Dean’s side conversation. “We must be losing our touch.”

***

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[saxxxology]

Love Will Triumph

After a hunting incident leaves Y/N riddled with deep scars all over her body, it takes a Winchester to finally draw her out of the shell she's confined herself in.

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Native American!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2900

WARNINGS: scars (not self-harm), body insecurity, smut, oral sex, crying during sex (in a good way), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, fluffy stuff.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Written for @atc74’s Fierce Females in FanFiction Challenge. My line was: She has been through Hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles. It was edited by @crispychrissy - please heed the warnings and enjoy!

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Sam’s alone at Jody’s. Dean’s taken her and the girls out for a night at the local fair, so Sam’s alone with a book and a beer in the guest room, just how he likes it. It’s late, almost nine, and he doesn’t expect anyone to be back for another couple hours.

He starts when he hears the front door unlock, open, and close. There’s no laughing between Dean and Jody. No bickering among the two teenagers who are constantly at each other’s throats. His gun rests on the nightstand, and he quietly slips out of bed, checking the safety on the firearm before moving out into the hallway. Jody’s house is warded down to the frame, so it can’t be anything remotely supernatural.

Maybe a burglar thinking the house is empty.

He sneaks down, his feet silent on the carpet. The lights are off, save for the nightlight plugged in by the front door. There’s a figure by the door, petite and slender. Sam realizes the person must live here when they shrug off a heavy jacket and hang it on the coat rack.

“Who’s there?”

It’s a girl.

“I said, who’s there?”

“What’re you doing here?” He asks gruffly, not lowering the gun, “what do you want?”

“I live here, dipshit,” she retorts, “this is Jody Mills’ house, right?”

He still doesn’t lower his weapon. “What’s your name?”

“Tell me yours first.”

“Sam Winchester,” he replies. “Now. Your name.”

He can hear hear booted feet hitting the carpeted floor. He hears her sniff, and then the thud of glass hitting the coffee table. Whiskey, it sounds like. “I know that name. Jody’s talked about you.”

“Name. Now.”

“It’s Y/N,” she replies, a little louder than he expects, “Jesus Christ, relax a bit, I just stay here occasionally.”

Sam turns the safety off on his gun.

“Were you gonna shoot me?”

“No.” Sam responds almost too quickly. “No, I, uh, I just heard the front door open. My brother, Jody, they’re all out, so… can’t be too careful.”

He reaches for the lamp, searching in the near darkness for the switch.

“Don’t turn that on,” the girl says sharply.

Sam furrows his brow, even though she can’t see him. “What?”

“Don’t turn it on,” she repeats, her voice stiff. “Just… go back to bed. Everything’s fine.”

He straightens up, rolling his shoulders back as he hears the couch springs squeak slightly. It’s strange, this woman who doesn’t want him to see her? But she’s got keys to the house, Jody knows her… maybe she’s just a runaway.

“Okay.” He backs off, the gun now handing uselessly in his hand. “Uh… goodnight, I guess.”

A sharp hum is the only response he gets. He retreats down the hallway, heading all the way back to the guest room. Just to be safe, he closes the door all the way; Dean still needs to get in, but he’ll hear the squeaky doorknob in case the suspicious girl in the living room tries anything.

In the morning, he’s woken up by Jody knocking on the half-open door. He can smell waffles and bacon almost immediately, and his stomach grumbles. Dean’s passed out on the pull-out couch, snoring loudly.

“Hey, breakfast is ready,” Jody whispers, “the girls are up, you should grab something before they demolish it all.”

Sam sits up, yawning hugely as Jody heads back down the hallway. He throws his legs over the side of the bed, stretching his arms over his head as he rises. Dean grumbles something in his sleep and rolls over, and Sam quietly pads out of the room, intent on not waking him.

He’s just passing the bathroom when the door swings open and a girl walks out. She stops when she sees him and closes her eyes, almost as if she’s expecting him to strike her or recoil in some way.

The reason for her reaction is evident. Three long, pale scars rake down the left side of her face, disfiguring her forehead, cheek, and the upper part of her neck. Her lower lip is pulled down slightly, but it doesn’t make her any less beautiful.

“Hey,” Sam tries to keep his voice level, but the sudden shock of seeing remnants of what must have been horrific injuries makes its way into the following words. “G-good morning.”

She huffs and walks past him, pulling the hood of her sweater over her head as she strides into the kitchen. He hears Jody greet her enthusiastically, and then the clank of a plate on the wooden table.

“...gonna eat outside,” he hears her saying. He enters to find her piling bacon, sausage, and pancakes onto her plate. Claire’s pointedly staring at her own plate while Alex leans against the counter, cradling a mug of coffee in her hands. “Too many people.”

She makes eye contact with Sam before turning away and heading out the back door. Sam inhales nervously and flexes his fingers by his sides, nodding at Alex when she raises her cup in a silent ‘good morning.’

“It’s just us,” Claire scoffs, “how are four people too many?”

“Hey,” Jody scolds, “Y/N’s different, Claire, you know that.”

The teenager rolls her eyes, but relents.

Sam silently fills his plate and pulls out a chair, careful to make sure he can see Y/N’s back as she sits down on the stairs to the deck. Claire, attentive as always, glances over her shoulder.

“Why are you staring at her?” she asks.

Sam shakes his head. “I’m not staring.”

“Now you’re blushing.” Claire’s lips curve into a mischievous smile. “Sam’s got a cru-ush…” she sings.

Jody chuckles when Sam’s cheeks turn a deeper scarlet. “Sam, she’s a sweet girl, she’s just a little rough around the edges.”

Breakfast continues until the girls are running late for school. Jody shoos them out the door before coming back into the kitchen to help Sam with dishes.

“Just a bit rough, huh?” Sam chuckles and looks over his shoulder at Y/N, who’s still outside and meticulously picking over her meal. “She was givin’ me the death stare in the hallway.”

Jody’s quick to respond. “It’s not you, Sam, she’s got a real bad history.”

“Monster?”

Jody shakes her head. “Got attacked by a Hellhound a few years ago, nearly died. Took six hunters to kill the damn thing. Those scars are all over her body, ‘s why she keeps herself all bundled up.”

Sam’s heart pangs. “How?”

“Don’t know. Thing was rogue, or something, nobody knows.” Jody dries her hands and leans against the counter. "She’s been through hell, Sam,” she murmurs, “believe me when I say fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles."

***

TEN MONTHS LATER

“Sam, can we please take it slow?”

Y/N’s standing in Sam’s hotel room, dressed in only her leggings and a long-sleeved tee shirt. It’s as close to naked as she’s ever been with him, and she’s not completely sure she’s ready. Sam’s in front of her, stripped down to just a pair of black Saxx briefs.

“Baby, you know I’m not gonna be turned off,” Sam murmured, taking her hands, “I’ve seen most of them before.”

“I know, but not all of them at once.” Y/N shifted her weight anxiously. “Sam… you don’t have to pretend to not give a shit, I know I’m ugly.”

“Stop that.” Sam cups her face, feeling the soft lines of her scars under his palm. “Don’t say that. If I really thought that I wouldn’t have tried so hard to get you to trust me.” He leans down, kissing her gently. “You’re beautiful.”

Her skin flushes at his words, and she swallows nervously. “Can we… um… dim the lights?”

He nods quickly. “Whatever you need.”

She turns off the overhead light, then the bathroom one, and clicks on the small lamp on the bedside table. When she comes back to stand in front of him, she allows him to slip his fingers underneath her shirt and lift up. She’s not wearing a bra, and he can just barely see her nipples in the dim light.

“God,” he breathes, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hands up and down her sides. Her scars litter her body, barely allowing him to feel unmarked skin before showing up under his touch. “Come here, baby.”

He pulls her leggings and panties down her thighs, finding larger areas of smooth, warm skin. When she’s naked, he grabs handfuls of her delightfully round ass and pulls her onto his lap, letting her straddle him. She gasps, and he muffles the sound with a warm, wet kiss.

“Ir really doesn’t bother—?”

Sam drags her hips along the growing bulge in his boxers. “Does it feel like it bothers me?” He captures a nipple between his lips, earning himself a soft moan as he swirls his tongue. “You’re smooth in all the right places, baby.”

Her voice is high, but he can still hear the tension when she speaks. “Like where?”

Sam flips her onto her back, eagerly kissing down her scar-covered stomach until he’s kneeling on the floor, his head between her thighs. “Here,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the top of her thigh, right next to her pussy. “All over here, baby.”

Y/N trembles when his breath ghosts over her clit, and then arches her back when his tongue slides through her folds. “Oh my God…”

Sam only hums in reply and slides his hands up the backs of her thighs, pushing her knees back and spreading her open for him. Her fingers slide shakily through his hair, and Sam wraps his lips around her clit, closing his eyes and embracing the taste and feel of her on his tongue.

“Oh, Sam,” she moans, “yeah, right there.” She whimpers louder when Sam lets out a low growl, the sound making its way deep into the most primal part of her.

“You taste so good,” he praises, kissing the lips of her cunt. “Could eat you all night long.”

She wiggles her hips, enticing him. “I want you in me.”

“Gotta make you cum first,” he says, his voice thick with lust, “wanna make you cum first.”

Y/N lets out a whine when Sam covers her pussy with his mouth, his tongue working magic on her sensitive pussy. “Fuck, Sam…”

Sam can hear her voice growing higher, more throaty and strained. She’s close, and he quickens the speed of his tongue, his jaw tense with the effort of getting her to climax as soon as possible.

She cums with a loud cry, a sob ripping from her chest as her entire body quakes with pleasure. Sam continues his ministrations until she’s pushing his head away, her legs going limp as he crawls over her.

She’s crying, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she covers her mouth with a shaking hand. Sam’s heart skips a beat, and he concernedly runs his fingers over her cheek.

“Baby?”

She shakes her head, reaching for him. “I’m okay,” she gasps, “it was… just…”

“Intense,” he finishes for her, “it’s okay, I got ‘cha. C’mere.”

He kisses her carefully, making sure she’s receptive to the taste of her slick on his lips as he drapes his body over hers. When she winds her arms around his shoulders, he reaches down, shoving his boxers down and letting them drop to the floor before lifting her up and dropping her further up on the bed.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he whispers, rutting his cock through her folds. She whimpers when it twitches in interest, and Sam lines himself up, watching her expression as he presses in. She winces at the stretch, but relaxes when Sam murmurs her name soothingly.

He slides home in a single smooth thrust. She wraps around him like hot, wet silk, and Sam almost loses it when his name leaves her lips in a long, soft whimper.

His first thrust causes both of them to groan in sync, and Sam holds himself over her on shaking arms so he can watch every move of her body. Her hair billows out underneath her, framing her scarred face like a halo, and he drops his head to her throat, following the soft lines of those marks with his lips until he finds a nipple and latches on.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps, her voice jolting and broken with the force of his thrusts. “Fuck, Sa-am…”

“Yeah.” Sam grinds closer to her, grinning when he can feel her clit on the bare skin at the base of his dick. “You feel so good, baby, so soft.”

He changes the angle of his thrusts, angling for the top of her pussy, and her nails dig into his arms when he finds what he’s looking for. Her sob catches in her throat, and Sam braces himself up as he pistons his hips harder, faster, until tears of pleasure are rolling down Y/N’s cheeks.

“I’m cumming,” she whimpers, “I’m cumming...!”

Her entire body locks up when she orgasms for the second time. Sam slows his thrusts, looking down in amazement as she gushes over his dick, soaking her inner thighs. When she goes limp, he pulls out, grunting as another small trickle of slick squirts onto his dick.

“You okay?” he asks, watching her slowly regain some control of her breathing.

She nods tearfully, wiping her eyes and sniffing. “Yeah, I just… God, just keep fucking me.”

Sam nods, kissing her deeply as he pushes back in. When he starts thrusting this time, she’s even tighter, wetter, and his hips smack dully against her ass as he fills her over and over again.

“Fuck,” she sobs, “fuck, Sam, fu-uck…”

She grabs his face and kisses him, trying to keep herself grounded as he pounds away inside of her. She hasn’t been touched this way since before the attack, and Sam’s… intense. He’s a beast of a man, grunting and growling while muttering praises like “that’s it” and “good girl, baby” at the same time. It’s barely been ten minutes and he’s made her cum twice, more than any man before had even been able to complete.

And when his fingers trace over the scars that litter her entire body, when he grinds his torso down against hers hard enough to feel the texture of them on his own skin, she realizes that he’s not just a man looking for someone to fuck when he needs to blow off steam or when he’s drunk.

Sam loves her.

“Oh my God—” she cums one more time, fighting the urge to burst into tears at the pleasure of it all. The orgasm surges over her, and Sam presses in deep, holding her down against the bed until she’s shuddering and gasping for breath underneath him.

“I love you.” She says the words without thinking. “I love you, Sam… I l-love you…”

He lifts his head to gaze down at her. His eyes bore into hers, and he wipes a stray tear away with his thumb. “I love you too, baby.”

Her legs lock around his hips, and she reaches for one of his hands. He takes it, entwining their fingers together. “Cum,” she tells him, her voice wrecked, “please, cum in me, Sam.”

He gives a short nod and rolls his hips, keeping his eyes open so he can see her face when he fills her. Her pussy hugs his cock, messy with slick and clenching with the aftershocks of her last orgasm. Their bodies are hot and sweaty and sticky and Sam loves every single bit of it.

It doesn’t take him much longer to cum. He pushes in deep, making his cock press against her cervix, and the first spurt of his release makes her tremble. He struggles to hold himself up, finally sinking down to support himself on his elbows.

He doesn’t know exactly when he stops cumming; it’s like a constant string of pleasure that’s being pulled until it finally runs off the spool. When he’s able to, he gathers the strength to lift his head and looks down at her.

“Hey,” he chuckles. “Y’good?”

She swallows, her eyes still watery. “Yeah. I just need… I need…”

Sam nods in understanding and wraps his arms underneath her, holding her close. “I got you, baby… I got you.”

He claims her lips in another deep, passionate kiss that almost makes her start to cry again. She swallows the knot of emotion and wraps her shaking arms around his neck, closing her eyes as Sam starts to kiss down her neck.

“I think…” he lets out a soft sigh against her collarbone, “we should shower and sleep, Dean wants to head out early tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Y/N shifts under him, prompting him to lean back and pull his cock from her. She moans when his cum drips down her ass, and Sam almost wants to plunge back into her and fill her up again.

They shower quickly, only taking enough time to get the grime of their lovemaking off their bodies before slipping underneath the covers. Sam pulls Y/N against him, tilting his head to give her a long, steady kiss.

“Sleep tight, baby.”

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[hannahindie]

Chaos and Destruction

Characters: Reader x Dean (Sam and Cas mentioned) Word count: 1,018 Warnings: None, I don’t believe, other than a badass reader. A/N: Hey all! Gosh, it felt good to write something again. Thanks to @atc74 for hosting a great challenge, Fierce Females in Fanfiction. This went a little differently than I initially planned, but I really like where it went. I hope you all do, too! The prompt will be italicized!

Beta’d by @amanda-teaches, who is a sweet angel.

Here’s to hoping people are hanging around to read this. lol Tags are at the bottom, if you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Dean brought the whiskey to his lips as he watched her from across the bar, her head thrown back in laughter as another man was brought down by her pool skills. He smirked as the losing opponent shook his head and handed her the wad of cash that had been sitting on the edge of the pool table.

She practically skipped to the bar and plopped on the stool next to him, leaning close as she waved down the bartender.

“How much did you get that poor guy for?”

“It’s rude to ask that. Let it suffice to say, more than you.” She waved the wad of cash at him, then slipped it into her pocket. “You could always find it later, maybe count it then,” she said with a wink as she turned away and waved down the bartender.

His eyes traveled to the thin stripe of skin showing between her shirt and her jeans, then roved up, just to see her staring at him.

“You need something?” Dean grinned, “Yea, but now’s not the time.” He took another sip of beer, and she grinned.

“Eh, you couldn’t handle this anyway, Winchester.” She hopped down from the stool and walked over to where Sam was showing Cas how to shoot pool. He spun around and leaned back against the bar. He was amazed she was even here; her reputation preceded her. Stories of a lone woman, never one to work with others, but always one to utterly destroy her target and move on without a second glance.

Many were the stories of a woman in worn jeans and a black leather jacket, the outfit like a uniform in every tale spun at bars and hunting refuges. Details changed, specifics exaggerated, but one thing always remained; her haunting laugh as she celebrated a win, a smile on her face when she faced what should have been her end.

Dean had never seen this mysterious woman, honestly didn’t even think she existed, until they had gone to clear a vamp nest about a year ago. As much as he’d hate to admit it, he and Sam had had their asses handed to them, and it was one of the few times that he questioned whether they would actually make it out.

Then he heard her.

Like some sort of answer to an unspoken prayer, she had swooped in, laughing as she took out one vampire after another. To this day, he wasn’t sure how she had done it. There really wasn’t a good explanation, but it happened and her laugh...oh, her laugh sounded like chaos and destruction. It sounded like a woman who’d quit caring a long time ago, wreckless but still somehow controlled, like she was aiming the chaos as if it were a weapon. She’d saved their lives, and Dean was pretty sure that was the day he’d fallen in love with her.

He didn’t say anything to her about it, though, because the thing about girls like that...they didn’t need a knight in shining armor. He didn’t have to swoop in and save her, didn’t have to jump to her defense at bars or put himself between her and whatever threat they were facing. He wasn’t even entirely sure why she was still hanging around; she had made it pretty clear that the stories were accurate.

He had learned not to question it though, because she never did anything she didn’t want to do. He smiled as she laughed at something Cas said, then chuckled at the look on Cas’ face when she smacked him on the ass as she grabbed the extra pool cue off the wall. He spun back around and waved down the bartender.

“Whiskey, neat.” She nodded in response and he looked down at the bar as he waited, fingers drumming against the wood. She slid it to him and, before he could put money down, another hand appeared and slapped a couple bills on the bar.

“Keep the change.”  

Dean looked up, and raised an eyebrow when he saw that it was Y/N. “What was that for?”

“It doesn’t always have to be men that pay for the drinks, does it?”

“I guess you’re right,” he laughed as he threw back his shot. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused as if waiting for him to say something, then sighed. “Do you have the nerve, now?”

He frowned, “Nerve for what?”

She groaned in frustration, then grabbed his knee and spun him around on the stool. She shoved herself between his legs so that she was standing against him, her hands resting on his thighs. “For this.” Her hands moved from his thighs to his face, each one settling lightly against his jawline as she brought her lips to his. For a moment, he was stunned. Was he sleeping? Was this a dream, a djinn induced coma to tease him about what it could be like? Was this a bet lost or one too many drinks?

And then he realized he didn’t care.

One hand gripped her hip and the other went to her hair, burying it in the soft strands while he pulled her even closer, his lips molding against hers perfectly.

When she finally, to his disappointment, pulled back, he cocked his head. “What was that?”

“Well, I thought it was something enjoyable but if we’re going to question it…” If it were anyone else, he would think she was mad, but he saw the sparkle in her eyes, and added her sense of humor to the list of things he adored.

“Oh, it was. I just didn’t expect it.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, one of us had to do it. You clearly weren’t going to, and a girl wants what a girl wants. So I went for it.”

“You did say that I couldn’t handle you, in my defense.”

“I never said I couldn’t teach you.” She kissed him again, and Dean thought that maybe this was the best lesson he’d ever learned.

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[think-like-a-poet]

Hi, i love your f2 prema shot with oscar and logan. Can you maybe do an other one??

Truth or dare

F2! Logan Sargeant x F2! Oscar Piastri x F3! Reader

My other story

based on this prema video

You were sitting on the couch. Oscar to your left and Logan to your right as Angelina explained the game. It was the classic truth or dare and you felt like picking dare would end in some annoying stuff as always.

"Hi, we are back with another challenge." Logan smiled at the camera, waving his hands up and down.

Oscar let out a sigh, "Always so excited for this." you snicker at him as you greet the camera.

"Today we are playing a classic game of truth or dare. You pick one of the two options and have to answer or do what is on the card." You explain, showing all the cards in front of you.

"Who starts?" Logan asked more to the media team than to you and Oscar.

You threw your hands in the air, "Lets just do Oscar, me, you." you said as you pointed at each of them. "I ask Oscar, you ask me, and Oscar asks you." they both nodded in agreement.

"Alright, Oscar truth or dare?." you say as you hold eyecontact with him, a sly smirk plastered on your face.

Oscar shrugged, "Truth."

"How boring," you breathed out, causing both of them to let out a little laugh, as you pick up the first card."If a genie gave you three wishes, what would you wish for."

"First more wishes. Lets beat the system. But if that wasn't the case, luck, 10 million dollars and a really big house." you and Logan both nod along by every thing that he says.

"Alright, boring wishes. Why not a super power or a flying car?" You put the card away.

Logan huffed, "I would want unlimited marshmallows. " Oscar and you both laughed as you think back at the other challenge. " Truth or dare."

"Let's do a dare. It better be a bit normal." you say while looking at the media crew.

Logan just laughs as he reads out the card. " eat a snack without using your hands." at that moment a plate with an apple is put on the table in front of you.

You roll your eyes as both of the boys grab one of your hands to stop you from using them as you try to take a bite out of the apple. By the first try it rolls over the plate and you let out a sigh of annoyance. The second try is better as you take a big bite out of the apple, "Delicious," you mutter trough bites.

"Who would have thought you were good at something." Oscar joked and you jabbed his arm, causing him to laugh.

As you put away the apple, Oscar is the last to ask the question. 'Truth or dare Logan?"

"I will also do an dare."

You pat his arm, "Good, at least you aren't boring." you say while staring at the Australian boy. Logan just smiles as a small blush appears on his face.

Oscar just shakes his head before grabbing the card, "Take an embarrassing picture and post it as your profile pic on social media."

Logan lets out a groan and you both laugh at his expression. A shark mask is handed to him. You smile as he holds it in front of his face while Oscar takes a picture with Logan's phone. Logan throws the mask back as he looks at the photo and pouts before uploading it on his instagram profile.

"How long does it have to be on there?" he asks. The camera crew answered with 'at least 24 hours' and Logan groaned again.

"I think it is a great picture." you say patting his shoulder as Logan puts his phone away.

"Well this was the challenge. I hope to see you by the next one." you all wave goodbye before getting up from the couch and walking out of the room.

[wegoddessofhell]

Warrior

Summary: Alyssa Blake has had a rough life, but she finally gets the revenge she’s been looking for.

Characters/Pairings: Dean x Alyssa (OC), Sam

Word Count: 3,292

Warnings: A lil bit o’ fluff, mentions of death, a few swears… 2? 3? One terribly written smutty joke, i doubt anyone will even catch it lmaaao.

Author’s Note: Okay, sooo, hi! This is my first fic I’ve ever posted to tumblr and it happens to be for @atc74 Fierce Female’s Challenge! The prompt I chose is listed below and is bolded in the fic! I was high key stressed about not finishing this and decided to change my entire fic last minute and re write, but I’m much happier with how this one turned out. I hope everyone enjoys, and congratulations to Angelina again!

Prompt: “I have been fighting since I was a child. I am not a survivor, I am a warrior.”

Alyssa Blake was tough.

Looking at her, you wouldn’t think it. Her brunette hair that fell just above her hips, her darker complexion, her smaller frame… she didn’t look like your typical “tough” girl. But if you got to know her… she was so much more than she seemed.

Alyssa wakes up, her back to Dean’s chest, one if his arms wrapped around her waist. She attempts to slide away from him, making it to the edge of the bed, before he pulls her back against him. She laughs quietly, as he nuzzles against her shoulder, placing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Mmm, where do you think you’re going?” She bites her lip, letting her eyes close. “We’ve gotta get ready, De.”

“I know,” he nibbles on her ear. “You ready for this?” She opens her eyes, sitting up as much as she doesn’t want to. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time.”

He sits up as well, offering her a half smile. “I know you have, sunshine. The day is finally here.”

She slides out of bed in her boxers and tank top, grabbing some clothes. She moves to the bathroom and takes a quick shower, before she walks back to the bedroom, now dressed. She looks in the mirror at herself as she brushes her hair, letting out a shaky breath.

When she was five years old, a pack of vampires took out her entire family in their small home in Indiana. When Alyssa heard the screams from her family, she raced down the stairs from her bedroom, and to the basement. She hid under the stairs, listening to the screams of her family. She doesn’t know if they’re dead, or if they were turned, but what she does know is that she’s been alone for a very long time.

Her and Dean met one night at a motel. She was the manager, he needed a room, and the rest is history.

Dean had ensured she was trained. He taught her everything he knew about the supernatural world as soon as she mentioned her family being taken by vampires. He taught her how to shoot, how to fight, and if he was being honest, she was pretty bad ass. Sam had taken over when it came to learning about the research side of things, but together they shaped Alyssa into this bad ass hunter, scared of nothing. Except spiders. She hates spiders.

“Lys, you okay?” Dean asks, sliding off the bed to stand behind her. She’s drawn from her thoughts, and hadn’t even realized she had braided her hair. She grabs a ponytail from the dresser and hands it to Dean. He takes it and ties off the bottom of her braid.

“I’m just thinkin’, De. I haven’t been back to my house since that night,” she lets out a slow breath. Dean moves her braid so it was hanging in front of her shoulder, as she wraps his arms around her from behind. “I’ll be right there with you, I promise,” he kisses her cheek. “You ready?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No.” He kisses her cheek again, before he begins to throw some stuff in a bag. “I’m gonna wait in the car, okay? Take your time, sunshine.” He grabs the bag and leaves the motel room they had gotten just outside of Indiana.

Lys takes a deep breath and looks at herself in the mirror. She nods slightly, licking her bottom lip. “I can do this. I’m brave, I’m strong. It’s only scary if you let it be scary.” She breathes out and turns, leaving the motel room, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean looks over at her from the driver’s seat, and offers her his hand. She takes it quickly, giving it a gentle squeeze. He throws her a wink, before kissing the back of her hand. He starts the Impala and begins to drive, humming along to the song that was playing on the radio. Lys reaches forward and turns it up, recognizing the song as Killer Queen by Queen. Dean had dubbed this song as Alyssa’s when they first started dating, and it quickly became one of her favourites. She listens to the lyrics, trying to convince herself that she really was a Killer Queen.

Half way through the ride, Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, handing it to Alyssa. She takes it and answers, putting it on speaker, as Dean speaks. “Talk to me, Sammy. You’re on speaker.” “Hey guys, so get this, there’s an abandoned church about 20 minutes from Alyssa’s old house, apparently bodies turn up there all the time with two puncture wounds to the neck. I dunno, sounds pretty vampy to me,” Sam sighs.

“So, what’s the plan, then?” Lys asks. “We get to the church, you tie me to the chair, lure the vampires out cause they’ll want to finish the job, and then…?” “And then we keep takin’ out vamps until the alpha is stupid enough to show himself. When he does, you pop him with the colt. Easy enough, right?” Dean turns to her with a grin, before looking back at the road. “I’m gonna head there now, I’m still at the motel from last night. I uh- I had a late night,” Sam clears his throat, as Dean smirks. “Yeah you did!”

“Stop,” Lys looks to him, shaking her head with a smile. “We’ll see you soon, Sammy.” “Yeah, see you guys soon,” he hangs up.

---

The drive from Danville, Illinois to Fort Wayne, Indiana was only four hours. As they drove through Indiana, Alyssa started to recognize things from her childhood. The nostalgia was good, but it also made her sick to her stomach. When she realizes they were getting close to her old house, she sits up straighter in the Impala, her eyes glued out the window.

After a few more minutes, Dean pulls into the driveway of a home. The house itself looks rough. The yard around is overgrown, as if no one has been there for a while. The front window on the house is shattered, but other than that, it looked like a normal house. Maybe it was a little dark and a little dusty, but it was a home. Alyssa chews on the inside of her cheek, nodding. “This is it.” “You okay?” Dean asks, as she turns to look at him. She nods once, as he leans in and kisses her lips gently. “Then let’s go, sunshine.” He gets out of the car, Lys stepping out as well. She scans the front yard with her eyes, before walking to the front door. Dean steps up behind her and, looks at the door handle. He tries to open it, discovering it’s locked. He begins to pick the lock, speaking to Alyssa. “When we get in there, let me check the place out first, okay? I want to make sure it’s safe.”

Alyssa doesn’t answer him, and pushes the door open when its unlocked. She lets out a deep breath, looking around the house. Dean looks at her. “Stay here.” She shakes her head, speaking quietly. “The house is a circle, it meets up at the backyard door. You go left, and I’ll go right.” She turns into the living room on her right, as Dean watches her, raising his eyebrow. He grins after a moment, before he goes left.

She walks through the living room, memories flooding back as she closes her eyes. She looks to the place where they used to put their Christmas tree every year, and then she turns to the fireplace. On the mantle was a framed picture of her family. She steps towards it and studies the dusty picture, a sad smile on her face. Everyone was smiling, sitting on the lawn in front of the house. Lys licks her bottom lip, hearing Dean come up behind her. He pauses, watching her as she picks up the picture and turns to him. “It’s my family.”

“Can I see?” he asks as he walks towards her, standing behind her now, looking over her shoulder.

She nods, and points to the picture. “That’s my mom, and that’s my dad. The older boy is my older brother Tanner, and the girl is Rachel, my older sister,” she pauses, moving her finger to the youngest girl, “and that’s me.”

He kisses her cheek, looking at the picture with a smirk. “You were a cute kid… what happened?”

She scoffs, shaking her head with a smile. “Shut up.”

“I’m kidding,” he grins. He watches her pull the picture out of the frame, and fold it up, sliding it into the pocket of her jeans. “This floor of the house is safe, do you wanna head upstairs?”

She looks up the stairs and thinks, before she shakes her head. “There’s no need. All that’s up there is bedrooms and a bathroom.” She flicks her eyes to the basement. “We should go down there, though.” He nods at her, and takes her hand. “Lead the way.”

She leads him to the basement, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. Dean nearly bumps into her, but stops himself. She takes a deep breath, and looks back at him, meeting his kind, green eyes. “We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to,” Dean squeezes her hand.

She watches him carefully, before she turns and walks further into the basement. She looks around, staying silent for a few moments, before she speaks. “I hid under there,” she points to underneath the stairs. “I could hear everything. The screams, the vampires, everything, and I- I just hid.” “You were only a kid, Lys. You did what any smart kid would do,” Dean speaks softly, leaning against the wall.

She turns to him, shaking her head. “I could’ve been a distraction, maybe. I was fast, I could’ve distracted the vampires until my family got away.” “No, Alyssa, you don’t get to blame yourself for this,” he watches her look to the ground, walking towards her. “Look at me.” When she doesn’t, he tilts her chin up with his hand, meeting her eyes. “Stop thinkin’ like that, you hear me? You were five years old, sunshine. You couldn’t have done a thing, the only thing that would’ve happened was them killing you too.” She forces a smile, nodding slightly. “Thank you, De.”

He leans down and kisses her softly, feeling her relax under his touch. “Good. You ready to get outta here?”

“Yeah,” she nods, breathing out. “Let’s get outta here.” They make their way back to the Impala, getting inside. Dean starts the car, turning the radio up as he begins to drive towards the abandoned barn address Sam had given them.

----

After a 20 minute ride, they arrive, seeing Sam already outside, leaning against his BMW.

Once Dean pulls the car up, they both get out, Sam approaching them with his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I checked out the barn, it’s empty, and it’s dark which will be perfect.”

Dean moves to the trunk, pulling out two machete’s and the colt. He tucks the colt in his waistband, handing Sam a machete. “Perfect.” He grabs some rope, shutting the trunk afterwards. “Let’s go.”

The three of them make their way to the barn, bloodstains on the ground and on the wooden walls. Lys breathes out, looking around. “Yup, I’d say vampires were here.” Dean chuckles quietly. “Yeah, no kidding.” He grabs an old chair, and pulls it to the middle of the room, nodding to it. “Sit.” Alyssa walks over and sits down on the chair, putting her hands behind it. Dean grabs the rope, starting to tie her hands. “Don’t make it too tight, Dean.” “I won’t, Lys, don’t worry. You’ve done this a thousand times, we’ve practiced this knot a thousand times,” he finishes tying her hands. “How does that feel?” She tugs on the ropes, nodding. “It’s good.” “Good,” he nods. He leans in and places a gingerly kiss on her neck, whilst lifting up the back of her shirt, slipping the colt in her waistband. “You’ve got two bullets, two chances, you can do this. We’ve practiced your shooting, remember, be confident, not cocky.” She closes her eyes, feeling Dean’s lips and then his breath on her neck. “Confident, not cocky, got it.” He pulls back and nods, moving to stand in front of her. “Sammy and I will handle the regular bloodsuckers that are bound to show up, get your hands untied in time to take out the alpha, got it?” “Got it,” she nods quickly. She looks to Sam and offers him a smile, which he returns from the shadows of the barn. Dean nods, kissing her quickly before he moves to the other side of the barn.

After half an hour of painful waiting, there’s two voices heard from outside. Alyssa looks to Dean, her eyes wide. He nods once, watching her. She looks away, towards the front barn doors, two men walking inside.

“What do we have here?” the man with dark hair asks, approaching Alyssa slowly.

“Why, is this the final Blake girl, Matteo?” the blonde hair man asks back, also walking towards Alyssa.

Matteo reaches her and circles her slowly. “Sure does look like it, doesn’t it?” “Fuck. You,” Lys sptis, glaring at them. “I think your daddy said something along those lines when I drained him,” Matteo smirks, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her head to the side. “Wait!” the blonde man exclaims.

Matteo looks to the other vampire, his mouth painfully close to Alyssa’s neck. “What, Bruce? I’m hungry,” he hisses, showing his fangs.

Bruce speaks, nodding. “I am too, but we should save this one for dad, he’ll wanna finish her.” “That’s my job, actually.” From the shadows, Dean pounces, slicing of Bruce’s head, watching it fall to the ground next to Alyssa. Sam takes care of Matteo, as Dean looks to her. “You okay, sunshine?”

She nods, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m good.” “He’ll show himself, I promise,” he kisses her lips. “Keep sittin’ there and lookin’ pretty.” She rolls her eyes with a small smile, watching as he walks back to the side of the barn, Sam having already returned to his side.

Ten minutes later, two female vampires make their appearance, as the taller one speaks. “I thought I smelt a Blake.”

Alyssa smiles, eyeing her. “The one and only.” “Because we killed the rest of your family, huh?” the second one says in fake voice laced with sadness. “So sorry about that.” “No you’re not,” Alyssa chuckles, as Sam and Dean take both of their heads off. She watches the vampires heads fall to the ground, before she breathes out and speaks, “And I’m sure as hell not sorry for that.

This process continued for another 11 regular vampires, all of them killed and hidden,  before the man of the hour finally makes his appearance. “Well, well, well,” he sighs, stepping into the barn. “If it isn’t Alyssa Blake.”

Lys looks up at the Alpha, swallowing down her fear. She watches him, speaking confidently. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.” “I’m not sure why,” he chuckles, seeing her tied up. “This seems like quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.” She slowly goes to work on the knot, remembering to keep her shoulders steady as she does. “It is, but I’ll escape, just as I escaped the night you killed them all.” He shakes his head with a smile, looking to the ground. “I didn’t kill them, my vampires did.” She feels the knot as she speaks, panicking slightly, but she lets out a deep breath. “I was hiding under the staircase, you know? I didn’t even have to run, I just hid.”

“Like a coward, you hid, and it got your family killed,” he looks back up at her, baring his fangs.

“You would’ve killed them either way, all that would’ve changed was I’d be dead right now too,” she chews on the inside of her cheek, sliding her thumb between two parts of the rope.

“I guess you should be proud of yourself then, dear. You’re a survivor,” he steps towards her again, as Alyssa pauses with the knot.

She meets his eyes, as she speaks, her tone harsh, “A survivor?” She laughs spitefully, working at the knot again. “You made me an orphan. You took my siblings, my entire family, and I was alone. I was sent to live with my aunt who didn’t even want me. She sent me to a foster home. I lived in that foster home for 13 years, because nobody wants to adopt a five year old. I left that foster home when I turned 18, completely broke. I had no money, no family, and nowhere to go. I slept on the streets for 3 days, collecting change from strangers who were kind enough to give it. With the money I made, I rented a motel room for myself for one night, and begged the owner to give me a job there and luckily he did. I fought my way through life, earning every single little thing I had,” she gets the knot undone, holding the ropes still, before she speaks again. “I have been fighting since I was a child. I am not a survivor, I am a warrior.” She swiftly moves off the chair, dropping the ropes, drawing the gun from her waistband. She cocks it, pointing it directly at the Alpha, her hands shaking slightly. Dean and Sam emerge from the shadows, standing behind Alyssa on either side of her. The Alpha quirks his eyebrow, eyeing them. “Is that the colt?” “One and only,” Alyssa glares at him, full emotion. Getting this kill, this was revenge. This was revenge for her mom, her dad, her brother, and her sister. “I hate you. I hate you so much.” She pulls the trigger, the bullet soaring through the air, landing right between the vampires eyes. He falls to his knees, blood pouring from the bullet hole, a deep red-orange colour flickering inside of him. He collapses over, falling to the ground.

Alyssa drops the colt, her hands shaky. She hadn’t realized she was crying, everything felt like a blur. When she comes back to reality, Dean’s arms are wrapped around, as he leans into his chest. He holds her tight, kissing the top of her head. “It’s over, sunshine. You did it, he’s dead.” Lys nods, sniffling as she wipes her eyes. They stay like that for a few moments, Dean whispering words of comfort to her, before she finally pulls away from him, looking up at him. “I did it,” she speaks quietly, tear stains on her cheeks. “Hell yeah you did!” he grins, leaning down to kiss her. Once he pulls away from the kiss, he wipes his thumbs under her eyes gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And it was bad ass.”

“I’m a warrior,” she states quietly, as Dean nods enthusiastically.

“Say it louder, Lys. Own it. You’re a freakin’ warrior,” he tells her, taking her hand.

“I’m a warrior,” she says louder, squeezing Dean’s hand.

“Louder, I want you to scream it,” he whispers to her, as she looks up at him.

She takes a step back, looking around the barn. She thinks about everything that just happened, closing her eyes for a moment. She lets all the anger, the hate, the sadness- she lets it all go, as she looks up to the roof of the barn, yelling now. “I’m a warrior!”

Alyssa Blake is more than just tough.

She is a warrior.

[nobrakes]

Every time I see something Oscar related from you I have to go back and watch all the Prema LAP videos. Not necessarily a complaint haha

i LOVE those videos, they were THE thing that made me want to start watching F2 & F3.

It's so fucking funny how Prema has this insane unhinged creativity with a low budget production (to be clear it IS just Angelina and her camera) and YET their videos are more entertaining than most of the one's produced by F1 teams like........they LEGIT had their drivers do a competition of them walking on top of BRICKS and it was funnier and more entertaining than all Ferrari challenges combined (noah fence 2 charles and carlos who have been trying very hard to make those videos fun to watch).

The LAP videos are mwah chef's kiss. Oscar laying down and taking a nap like it's nobody's business. Robert talking about movies, driving to the track listening to Eminem (a lot). Angelina making fun of them. All of the engineers just being THE BEST most supportive ppl. And on f3 as well, Oli predicting the weather. So many gems I can't even list them all.

[crashdevlin]

She Became The Flame

Author’s Note:  Written for @atc74‘s Fierce Females in Fanfiction Challenge. I chose the prompt ‘She was not lost in the fire, she became it’ which got me thinking on an AU where Mary didn’t die in the fire, John did. It felt nice to come up with a way to make Mary likable again.

Summary: Mary Winchester made a deal with a demon that ended her love’s life. How does a woman balance being a mother and a hunter bent on revenge?

Pairing(s): none really, kinda Sam x Jess, little bit of Mary x Annie

Word Count: 4093

Story Warnings: Angst, little bit of depression, light canon violence, little bit of language

She was not lost in the fire, she became it.

In the normal world, the word ‘Winchester’ made people think of rifles, maybe of haunted mansions. In the hunter world, ‘Winchester’ was synonymous with the word ‘elite’. In the monster world, it meant ‘Death’. Most of that reputation rested on the shoulders of Mary Winchester, a woman who gave up her dreams of normal the night her husband died… the night that the demon deal she made got the father of her children killed.

The fire in her youngest son’s nursery wasn’t bad enough to render the house uninhabitable, but it was enough to leave lasting scars on the home. She supposed a good contractor could be employed to finally rid the room of the smell of smoke, the scorch marks that Mary’s eyes settled upon every time she laid her head on her pillow, but her eyes tracing the spot on the ceiling where John burned to a crisp… it reminded her what she was fighting for.

Sam asked once, when he was about six years old, why Dean had the master bedroom. Dean had responded with a cocky “‘cause I’m the oldest’, but then he’d whispered to his brother about ‘the stuff on the roof’ in Sam’s old room. Dean was a smart boy, and he’d been old enough when John died to recognize the changes in his mother. He’d seen sadness in her, he’d seen her depressed, but never in his young life had he seen her rageful, full of flame. Years later, he’d sometimes wonder if he’d ever actually seen her happy.

She seemed happy when they brought their friends around to hang out, seemed happy when they brought home honor roll report cards or trophies, smiled proudly when Dean’s football team brought home a championship or Sam got a glowing review of his acting skills in the Lawrence Daily News, but there always seemed to be a fakeness to it.

The first time she took her boys out to a shooting range, though, that was happy. When they started to excel at the wing chun and krav maga she was teaching them, that was happy. When a twelve year old Sam confronted her about her bruises and poorly-stitched wounds after she returned from one of her ‘business trips’, though, that was relief. She’d kept them in one place, kept them in school, kept them as normal as she could manage for as long as she could manage it, but she knew they’d figure it out eventually. She had when she was in the same situation.

“You hunt monsters?” Sam had scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Watch your language.” She groaned. It would’ve been easier to be an intimidating parent if she weren’t suffering bruised ribs from being launched through a wall by a poltergeist. “What do you think happened to your father, Sammy?”

“He died in the fire.” Sam responded, indignantly. Dean’s eyes flashed to Mary’s, then to his Nikes.

“The only damage was to the ceiling.” She reminded him. “Your father and the ceiling.”

“Why was Dad on the ceiling?” Dean asked, quietly. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked that question, she could tell, but it was the first time he’d asked it out loud.

“Because the Yellow-eyed Demon put him there.” Mary answered.

“There’s demons, now?” Sam exclaimed.

“There’s always been demons, kiddo. Look, I know this is hard to believe but it’s true. Monsters, ghosts, demons, they’re all real and your mother hunts them.”

“But you’re just a mom. How can you-”

“I was a hunter long before I was a mom. I was a hunter before I was John Winchester’s wife. Now, if you wanna shut your disrespectful little mouth, I’ll explain why I taught you how to shoot last year, why you’ve been doing martial arts, why I make you wear those necklaces.” Sam pulled his silver necklace with the pentacle in the middle out of his shirt. She took a deep breath. “And I’ll explain why your father died.”

Mary tried to give her sons a life as normal as she could manage but after she explained, she knew they couldn’t help but see the things in the shadows, and once they knew what she was training them to protect themselves against, they both decided they wanted to help her protect other people from the monsters.

She told them ‘no’. They would continue to stay with the neighbors when she went hunting. Their training was to keep them safe. She would keep everyone else safe. They persisted.

They were stubborn, headstrong, and they knew they could ‘handle’ it. Sam started getting into the lore books Mary kept in her closet, intent to impress her with his knowledge of things that he once thought were myths. Dean made an iron knife in metal shop so that he could ‘cut a spirit up’.

She waited for summer break to take them on a ‘family vacation’ to Missoula, Montana. It was a simple salt and burn, as easy a hunt as she would ever find for them. After that, her sons were hooked. Normal was shot for them. Dean and Sam Winchester were hunters… on long weekends and school breaks, anyway.

It was bittersweet when Dean received his acceptance letter from Princeton. He’d worked very hard to get in. “But when am I gonna use any of this college stuff when I’m hunting, Mom?” He asked, looking down at the heavy paper with the official Princeton University letterhead on it.

“Dean, what do I do?” Mary sat next to her oldest son and put a hand on his shoulder. “I hunt, yes, but when I’m not hunting, what do I do?”

“You work at the bar.” He said, quietly.

“You wanna work at the bar, Dean?” He shook his head. “I don’t want that for you, either. You can still help people and have a good career. Hell, it’d probably be better that way, honey. You know how much it’d help if I had health insurance?” She chuckled, smiling sweetly at him. She tapped the letter. “This is a good thing, Dean. This is amazing! I can only hope your brother gets in somewhere amazing, too.”

“But… we’re hunters, Mom.”

“And? That doesn’t have to be all you are. Trust me. When I was your age, I would have given anything for this opportunity you’ve got in your hands. Go to college, honey. Leave the hunting to me for a few years.”

“But I’ve only been doing it-’

“That’ll make it easier for you to walk away.” Mary hooked her fingers around his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Dean, I begged your grandpa to let me leave. Until the demon killed him, I was certain I was trapped in the Life. Go to New Jersey. Live a safe life for a while. Pretend like you don’t know what you know… and if you want to come back after… that’ll be your decision.”

“You'll keep looking for it, won't you? The demon?”

“I've never stopped. Trust me. If I make any headway while you're gone, I'll tell you.”

He went easily after that. Sam didn't even want to apply to colleges, though. Watching Dean walk across the stage for his Associates Degree two years later brought forth mumbling and dissent from the youngest. “What's the point? So he's got a piece of paper. You don't got one and you're, like, amazing, Mom. I don't need one, either.”

“That paper means options, Sammy.”

“What if I don't want options?” The teen grumbled.

“You will.” Mary insisted. She wanted her sons to have the normal life. While she tracked down Samuel Colt's demon-killing pistol and scoured books to find a way to summon the Yellow-eyed Demon, she wanted them to worry about exam grades and pretty girls and whether their favorite music was good enough for their peers.

She applied for him, using essays he’d written for the college prep course she and his guidance counsellor forced him to take on the applications to Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, Virginia Tech and NYU. The way his eyes lit up when he received that first acceptance letter told Mary she’d made the right decision. By the time the fourth and final letter hit the mailbox, Sam was beside himself.

Mary was a bit disappointed, however, that the single rejection letter came from Dean’s alma mater. She was hoping they’d get to be together again, that Dean would be able to keep an eye on Sam while she focused on the hunt.

Sam picked Stanford. He’d always wanted to see California. “Maybe you could learn to surf, huh? Then you’d have an excuse for all this hair.” Mary reached up and ruffled Sam’s fluffy hair, smiling that smile Sam could see right through.

“I could stay.” He offered, not for the first time.

“You think I put in the time, effort and money to give you all those options, just to have you stay?” Mary shook her head. “Boy, I’m looking forward to having a clean house for the first time in twenty-two years. Get your ass in the car.” She pushed him toward the driver’s side of the boxy ‘86 Mustang Sam and Dean had spent the summer break fixing up.

Sam wrapped his arms around Mary, kissing the top of his mother’s head. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, kiddo.”

“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“Safe as houses.” She promised.

“And no solo hunts. Take Bobby Singer or Pastor Jim.”

“Sam…” Mary started to argue, pulling away from her towering youngest child, but Sam’s grip tightened.

“You need someone watching your back. I won’t be here for you, so you use the network. Please.”

“I see how you’ve only got manners when you want something from me, kid.” She looked up into his hazel eyes, a small ring of blue around the pupil catching her attention. “Okay. No solos.”

Sam gave her a squeeze and dropped into the driver’s seat. She waved until she could see the little white car anymore, then retreated into the house. By sunset, the two-story house in Lawrence, Kansas was dark.

The Colt was easy. Danny Elkins had a soft spot for Mary, and he’d told her all about the gun after a few too many whiskeys one night. “I understand, Mary, but I can’t part with it. It’s the most powerful weapon ever forged.”

“Which is why I need it, Danny. That revolver is the one thing that can end this.” She leaned forward, catching the man’s eyes. “The thing killed my parents, killed my husband, did God knows what to my youngest boy. The Colt… the demon dies and it doesn’t matter what he did to Sammy, because it’ll be over. After all these years, it’ll be over.”

“Mary.”

“I could take it.” Mary said, certainly. “You’re old and out of practice, Danny, and I might not be a spring chicken, but I’m in better shape than you… and I want it more.” She sighed, leaning back. “I don’t want to do that to you, Danny. I’d much prefer you hand me the Colt willingly, but it comes down to this: I am walking out of this house with that gun, or I’m not walking out.”

“Gonna get yourself killed.” Danny said, under his breath, as he stood to retrieve the pistol.

“Everybody dies sometime.” She responded, looking at the case with the revolver and five spelled bullets. “Just five?”

“The thing's an antique. Be glad there’s that many bullets left.”

Mary slammed the case shut and stood. “I only need one.” She wrapped an arm around the older hunter and squeezed him before leaving his home and packing into her Impala.

The Colt was easy. Finding the demon was hard. “I ain’t helpin’ you, ya idjit.”

“Come on, Bobby, you-”

“No! Those boys already lost their father to that damn demon, I ain’t gonna help you summon the fuckin’ thing so they can lose you, too!”

“This is what I’ve been working toward for eighteen goddamn years, Bobby!” She threw her hands in the air. “I can kill the damn thing! Not send it back to Hell, kill it.”

“Maybe!” The redneck adjusted his hat and shook his head. “Maybe you can kill the thing, Mary. But maybe it lights you up like it did John, an’ yer boys get to continue yer revenge tour without you.”

Mary sighed, running her hands down her face. “So, what do you want me to do, huh? Just wait for whatever he did to Sam to present itself?”

“Maybe he didn’t do nothin’ to Sammy. Maybe John interrupted him before he could.”

She shook her head. “I can’t risk that.”

“An’ I can’t help you orphan those kids.”

“They’re both grown men.”

“Sam’s ‘bout the age you were when yer parents died. That bein’ grown thing make it okay fer you?” Mary sighed, exhaustion settling over her. Bobby took a deep breath and put his hand on her shoulder. “If something happens with Sam, then something happens and I’ll help you find a way to summon the Yellow-Eyed prick but I am not gonna help you kill yerself unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Mary accepted it, but she didn’t like it. She put her anger to good use, heading out to hunts across the country. She found a young woman named Annie on a hunt and convinced her that they’d do better to hunt together, travel together.

“I met a girl, Mom!” Sam said, excitedly, through the phone one night.

“I’m sure there’s a bunch of girls in California, Sammy.” Mary joked.

“No, you know what I mean. She’s amazing. Her name’s Jessica. Jessica Moore. Brady introduced us. You remember, I told you about Brady?”

“The one that went a bit nutso last year?”

“Yeah. I think he’s better now. Anyway, he introduced me to Jessica and she is…” He sighed, heavily, dreamily. “She’s so awesome, Mom.”

“Well, I’m very happy for you, Sammy. You’ll have to bring her home for dinner some day.”

“Yeah, I mean… if I don’t screw this up, royally.”

“She’d have to be an idiot to not wanna date you, kiddo.” Annie raised her eyebrows at the other woman, looking across the motel room as she ran a blade over a whet stone. “Look, I gotta go, Sam.”

“Hey. You’re not solo, right?”

Mary rolled her eyes, putting her phone on speaker. “Annie, say ‘hi’ to my youngest son so he can stop worrying about his fragile, old mother.”

“Hi, Sam.” Annie waved at the phone.

“Who’s that?” Sam asked.

“Annie Hawkins. She’s been hunting for years. She’s got my back and I’ve got hers. Don’t worry about it. Just worry about getting that Jessica girl to text you back.”

“She already has been.” Mary could hear Sam’s grin. “We’ve been talking, nonstop, for three days.”

“Well, good. Keep it up. I really do have to go now, Sam. We’ve got a lead on a Siren and I don’t want another body to drop before we get it, okay?”

“Siren?” Sam scoffed. “Cool. Tell me all about it when you get done, okay?”

“Sure thing, Sammy. Love ya, kiddo. Bye.” Sam had barely gotten his ‘bye’ out of his mouth before she hit the ‘end’ button and shoved the phone in her pocket. “Come on. We got work to do.”

“You’re not old.” Annie said, sliding her knife into its holder and standing.

“No. You’re just young.” Mary said, sarcastically.

“That why you didn’t call your son to tell him you met a girl?” Annie smirked as she rested her hand on Mary’s hip, setting her chin to Mary’s shoulder.

Mary pulled away. “That has nothing to do with your age. It’s none of his business.”

“What, you embarrassed of me? Think your Sammy’s gonna look at his mommy different if he knows you’ve got a girlfriend?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Annie.” Mary shook her head and reached down to grab her bronze knife and the small syringe of blood that they’d taken from the the one living victim when they visited him in the psych ward earlier. “Don’t read too much into it. This doesn’t mean anything.”

Annie scoffed. “I wasn’t expecting true love, honey, but I thought we were good for more than just keepin’ away the cold.”

Mary sighed. “We are. We work well as partners. We’re good together in a lot of things. Leave it at that, sweetheart.”

“Right.”

Annie didn’t stick around much past the end of the Siren hunt but Mary hadn’t expected her to. The younger hunter was lonely, chasing something real to hold onto, but Mary couldn’t give her that. The only real love she’d ever shared was cut short when John walked into that nursery.

Sam called every month to keep her updated on his life, on the schooling and the girl. Dean called every other day to keep up to date on her hunts. She made sure to be at Princeton when Dean got his Master’s Degree in Mechanical Engineering and she and Dean both made it to Stanford for Sam to receive his Pre-law Bachelor’s.

“So, I was thinkin’-” Dean started, as they sat in a crowded restaurant surrounded by other students and their families, all eating celebratory dinners.

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude.” Sam said, smiling.

“Haha.” Dean rolled his eyes, focusing on their mother again. “I’m done with school, right? I mean, I don’t really have the desire for a PhD at the end of my name. And I mean… why don’t I take a few months and hunt with you, Mom?”

“You just spent eight years in school and you don’t wanna use that degree to get a job?” Sam scoffed.

“Eventually, yeah, but I can get a job almost anywhere, anytime. I miss helping people.”

Mary smiled. “You can help people by working for a biomedical development firm, in R&D.”

“Like I said, Mom… anytime. Right now, though… please?”

She nodded. “Okay. But you get a real job within a year, understand?”

Dean grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

They didn’t make it a year. A few months later, about a week into October 2005, Mary sent Dean to New Orleans in the Chevy on his own, knowing he could handle a simple voodoo witch on his own while she headed to Jericho, California to check into decades worth of men gone missing on one stretch of road. She’d damn-near finished the hunt, tracking down La Llorona, a Woman in White named Constance Welch, when she got the call from Missouri Mosely that she had to drop everything and hightail it back to Kansas. The demon was active.

She called Dean and left a voicemail telling him to get to California and finish the hunt in Jericho, to grab Sam if he could. She went to Missouri and got the rundown on what the psychic saw. By the time she made it back to California, Sam and Dean had already gone to to finish the hunt in Jericho. Which was good for Mary, because she was able to make it to Sam’s apartment in Paolo Alto before him.

When Sam walked through the door, Jessica jumped up from the couch and wrapped her arms around him. “Sam, you didn’t tell me that your mom was coming over! Boy, I just met your brother two days ago and now your mom?”

“Mom? What are you doing here?” Sam pulled away from Jessica and wrapped Mary in a tight hug.

She turned her head to whisper in his ear. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. Please, trust me.”

Sam pulled back, questions in his eyes. “Of course. Always,” he whispered back.

Mary reached into her jacket as Sam stepped back, pulling out a bottle and popping the top off. She splashed Jessica in the face, the girl’s skin sizzling and smoking as her eyes went black. “Grab her head, Sam!” Mary shouted, grabbing a thick rope and tying the demon to a chair as Sam held his love’s head still so she couldn’t snap her neck from within. Mary pulled the Colt from her purse and aimed it at the demon. “If you move, go to smoke out, anything, I’ll end you. Understand, scum?”

Jessica’s eyes blinked back to normal and she tilted her lips into a smirk. “Mary Winchester. How’d you know?”

“How long have you been in Jess?” Sam demanded from behind her.

She rolled her eyes. “Since I abandoned your lover-boy, Brady. You know, that was fun. Helping you find all those parts of yourself that you didn’t even know you were hiding, but… you couldn’t love Brady like you love Jess. So, Brady had to go to rehab and here I am. I do believe the blond is more my color.”

“No, I’m not- No, Brady wasn’t my-” Sam stuttered, but Mary shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter, Sammy. I had a girlfriend. I’m not judging.” Mary dismissed it and moved on with her questions. “Where is the Yellow-Eyed Demon? What is his plan for Sam?”

“Kill me, Mama, I’m not telling you Azazel’s plans.”

Mary nodded, a piece of her happy to have a name for the demon that ruined her life. “I shoot you, Jessica dies, too. I’m not doing that unless I have to. Now, speak.”

The demon was silent. “Fuckin’ speak!” Sam growled.

She sighed. “You can’t stop it. This is centuries in the making, Winchesters.”

“What is?” Mary demanded.

“Sam’s special, Mary. You know that. What you let Azazel do to him, it made him different. Didn’t it, Sam?” Sam didn’t respond. “You been having bad dreams, Sam?”

Mary’s eyes jumped to Sam’s, but he wouldn’t meet hers, so she turned her attention back to the demon wearing Jessica. “Where is Azazel?”

“I don’t know and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. My father’s work is bigger than me. I’m willing to die for it.”

Mary’s finger twitched against the trigger for a second as she considered blowing the bitch away, but she didn’t. She nodded to Sam and they started to speak, in unison. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, Satana, inventor et magister, omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a, nobis sancto et terriblili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adverasarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”

Jessica slumped in the chair as smoke poured out of her mouth and headed for Hell. Sam immediately checked her pulse and moved to untie her as Mary tucked the Colt back into her purse and sat down in the recliner across from the TV. “What dreams, Sam?”

Sam laid Jessica out on the couch and turned to his mother. “Dreams… prophetic dreams. Just a few of ‘em, nothing major. But they've all come true… right down to Jessica on that couch, half dead.” He threw a look back at his girlfriend. “It's starting, then? Whatever the demon has planned, it's starting and… if I stay here, Jess is gonna end up like Dad.”

Mary looked at her boots. “I’m sorry, kid. I never wanted it to be this way. I wanted you to have an option to not fight, but… I don’t think any of us have that option, anymore. If you want her to be safe, Sam, you have to leave.”

Sam blinked away the tears. He was good at that, holding it in. Mary was sure he got that from her. Dean was always so open with his tears, just like John had been. Sam nodded. “I’ll get packed.” He headed for the bedroom and it wasn’t long before he was slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. He gave a look to Jessica, then walked out. Dean was waiting in the parking lot for them, he popped the Impala’s trunk as they approached and Sam dropped his bag.

Mary looked between her sons. Good, strong men who’d proven themselves as great hunters. She dropped the holy water and the Colt into the trunk and sighed. “Come on, boys. We’ve got work to do,” she said, slamming the trunk closed.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt  @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby @mrswhozeewhatsis @adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs @deansenwackles

[alleiradayne]

Hold On Loosely

For @atc74‘s Fierce Females in FanFiction Challenge, I chose the prompt:

I am not a beautiful disaster or a hot mess. I’m the crazy bitch that you should think twice about fucking with.

If you want to see an aesthetic I put together for this post before @staff‘s bullshit new policy, go here to view the piece on AO3.

Summary: Elizabeth has it out with Dean about his over-protectiveness ever since she and Natalie started hunting with the Winchesters.

Pairing: Dean x Elizabeth (Dean x F!OC)

Warnings: A little angst, some fluff, arguing, a whole shit ton of smut including oral, anal play, no condoms (seriously, wrap it up kids), a dildo, and fluids (of the sexual kind). You’ve been warned.

Word Count: 7,069 (I have a problem)

A/N: I have to give my beta @creativecommoner0 a metric shitton of thanks for working with me on this one.

The door of the Impala crashed closed harder than Elizabeth intended, her nostrils flaring along with her temper. As if he had not done enough already, Dean glared from across the hood of the car and it burned her fuse dangerously close to its end.

“What the hell is your problem?” he demanded. “You’ve been silent the whole way back to the Bunker, you give me your stink-eye whenever I look at you, and now you slam my car door. Baby didn’t do anything to you, so don’t take your shit out on her.”

That was it. The final spark. Elizabeth’s anger erupted in a shower of fire and rage. “I’m not taking it out on your damn car. You wanna know what my problem is? It’s you. You’re my fucking problem,” she barked as she jabbed a finger at him. Furious, she shouldered her duffel bag and started for the steps. “You and every single hunt we’ve been on since we met.”

Dean scoffed as he trotted to catch her. “What do you mean, every single hunt? We’ve been on a lot of hunts together and they’ve… well, they’ve gone okay. Mostly.”

Elizabeth rounded on him in the stairwell to the residence halls. “You insisted that we team up,” she stated as she prodded his chest with a pointed finger. “Yeah, sure, Natalie and I were in a bad way, we needed help, so we agreed. Now, I think you saw an opportunity and took advantage of us.”

When she turned to continue down the stairs, Dean’s heavy boots stomped after her. “You needed help, Liz! I didn’t take advantage of anything, I just wanted to help!”

Elizabeth tore the door to the hallway aside and it crashed against the adjacent wall. As she crossed the threshold, she continued to shout. “You wanted to help, or did you want more people to boss around?! Which is it, Dean? Because I can’t tell the fucking difference!”

Past Dean’s room, Elizabeth rounded the corner into the main hallway, headed for her room. When Dean had not responded to her last statement, she stopped, hand on the knob, and waited.

“You know I only wanted to help,” he growled between gritted teeth. “Don’t act like you don’t know that.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she opened the door and tossed her green duffel bag on the floor. Their last hunt had gone off without a hitch, Dean taking the lead as usual. But he had, once again, unnecessarily risked his own life to protect her.

The memory angered her further as Elizabeth slammed her door shut and headed for the kitchen. Hot on her heels, Dean followed. He needed to hear it, she knew, but that did not make the issue any easier to discuss. In the kitchen, she wrenched open the refrigerator and withdrew two beers. As she opened them, she turned to Dean and said, “You’re overstepping a major boundary I have.”

Dean licked his lips as his brow crept towards his hair. “What do you mean? What boundary?”

Elizabeth handed him one of the bottles as she sipped from her own. He took it with a muttered, “Thanks,” under his breath, then drank a long pull. She waited until he finished to speak. “That’s my point, Dean. You have zero boundaries. I’ve seen it with your brother. With Cas. It’s starting to bleed over to me, and even Natalie a little,” she explained. “Shit, it’s almost like how you treat your car. Now, that I understand, Baby is you girl just like Val is mine. But I ain’t no car, Dean. I don’t deserve to be treated like that. Nobody does.”

Dean glared, his face contorting from perturbed to devious with a twitch of his brow and a smirk. “I have plenty of boundaries. I hid my porn collection,” he stated.

Son of a bitch. Why, why did she laugh? Something about his humor disarmed her with terrifying ease. “A damn shame, that is,” she said with a smirk of her own. “We could have shared.”

That caught him off guard, Dean’s side-eyed glare wide and serious as a heart attack. “Weren’t we just talking about boundaries?”

“Oh,” Elizabeth quipped. “Back to the argument then. Okay.” She set her beer down on the steel counter with a metallic clang. “Look, Dean, I know why you’re doing it. I’m having trouble reconciling my feelings, too, but you have got to stop stepping in the line of fire for me. It’s going to get you killed. And from a few of Sam’s and Castiel’s stories, it sounds like that’s been a problem for you since forever and it has taken your life. More than once. I don’t even understand how you’re standing—"

“Wait, back up,” Dean interjected with a pleading hand. “What feelings? What are you talking about?”

There was the rub. “You have got to be kidding me, dude,” Elizabeth breathed. “Why do you insist on protecting me? Hm? Why do you feel it necessary to push me out of the way, to jump in between me and a kill? This last hunt was the worst, man. I feel so worthless when I hunt with you. Childish even, like I just play at hunting and you’re the professional.”

Any humor that remained in Dean fled in that instant. Elizabeth’s heart broke with her every word as the light left his beautiful emerald eyes. But he had to hear it. He had to understand how she felt. Maybe that way he could come to terms with his own feelings. She could only hope.

With his chastised frown, Dean averted his eyes as he spoke. “I never meant to make you feel that way,” he muttered as he stared at his boots. “I worry, that's all. Just trying to look out for you.”

Elizabeth nodded as she returned to her beer. A refreshing swig cooled her tongue, the heavy hops sweet, almost bitter. “Why, though? For my sake? Or yours?”

“Yours,” Dean scoffed. “Why would-” A knowing spark revitalized his smile as he regarded her. “Oh. I get it. I know what this is about.”

Well, shit. That had taken less effort than Elizabeth had expected. “What?”

“This is about us,” he said, voice deep in his chest. “You know, if you wanted to get in my pants again, you could have just asked.”

Elizabeth groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “If that’s all I wanted, Dean, you'd know.”

He took a step towards her, beer in hand meeting his lips for another taste. “Would I, though? You said it yourself, you’re having trouble with your feelings. Are they getting in the way?”

Great. She should have anticipated such a misunderstanding from him. And while Elizabeth had not ignored her instincts, she had sorely underestimated how obtuse Dean might be. She had figured that, at the very least, they were too old for asinine courtship behavior. But that had been hoping for too much, it seemed.

She met him halfway, two steps closing the space between them. “Depends. Who am I to you? A pretty girl you found on the side of the highway, desperate for help? Or a skilled, seasoned hunter?”

For a long moment, Dean said nothing. He simply stared, as if he searched her gaze for the right answer. A sip of his beer left alcohol on his breath as he said, “Maybe a little bit of both. Maybe being a hunter helps you reconcile that desperate, helpless part of you.”

How could he be so damn daft? “Christ, dude. You are so full of shit,” Elizabeth started. “I’m not some beautiful disaster or hot mess you need to fix.”

Dean’s arched brow questioned that statement. “What are you, then? Enlighten me, if I’m so far off base.” He took one last half step, encroaching, his chest meeting hers.

Sudden clarity hit Elizabeth like a mac ton truck at full speed. She had given Dean far too little credit. With his pretty face and those amazing arms, she had thought him to be all charisma and little intellect when it came to relationships. But at that moment, Elizabeth had never been so thrilled to be so wrong. She recognized every move, every glance, every touch. He read from the same playbook as she, and with the same deadly precision. And so, staring into his green eyes so heavily lidded with want, she doubled down and said, “I’m the crazy bitch that you should think twice about fucking with.”

No one should be allowed to smile the way Dean Winchester did at her. It was no smirk, no charming quirk or come-hither beckoning of his full lips. No, his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and buffed his rough facade to reveal a whole host of emotions. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” he started as he curled a lock of her hair behind her ear, “and you’re definitely not a bitch. You might be ruthless. But far from a bitch. And trust me, I’ve wondered about—how did you put it? Fucking with you? Yeah, I’ve definitely thought about that more than twice in the last three hours…”

He toed a dangerous line, dancing so close to the topic that Elizabeth fought the need to scream. Instead, she chose to speak his language. Beneath the hem of his shirt, she toyed with the buckle of his belt. “You know that’s not what I meant,” she stated.

The tick of the kitchen clock echoed in the long silence between them until his fingers slipped over hers and withdrew her drink. Behind her he reached, both of their bottles set on the metal counter. So close, his heady scent filled her nose, gun oil, whisky, and a hint of peppermint. Elizabeth had not noticed it before, and even thought to ask, but then his calloused hand cupped her cheek as the other pulled her flush to his body at the small of her back. With no other choice, her hands slipped to his back and found the corded muscles as sweat rolled along his spine. There, so close to him, the bunker faded away to nothing. Without any prompt, they spoke at the same time.

“I love you.”

At least Dean had the decency to rear back in surprise. But that lasted only a single beat of his heart, thumping against her chest.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he whispered. “Didn’t seem like your bag.”

She understood everything then. “It’s not,” she started. “You’re right. And I can imagine how that might have kept you from saying anything sooner.”

Dean shrugged, though he looked everything but indifferent. Hope brightened his green gaze as he stared, searched, but for what Elizabeth was unsure. Seconds continued their endless ticking until she leaned into his embrace and, with all the patience she had left, placed a tender kiss on his lips.

A lifetime passed in seconds, stretched with Dean’s touch smoothing from her back to her ass. Deliberate, steady, Elizabeth felt the confident ease in his touch. And though she wanted nothing more than to have her way with him, she relished the thought of taking her time with Dean, of doing to him all the salient things she had imagined over the last few months, as slow as they could stand it.

And then Dean moaned.

So much for patience.

Elizabeth leaped into action and a quick step spun them about with Dean backed up to the metal countertop. She pinned him to the edge with her hips and he gasped. His lips parted as he sucked in a deep breath, his bottom lip held between hers and released with a wet pop. When she wrenched his belt free and tossed it to the floor, he caught on and peeled away her extra layers until only her t-shirt remained.

The button of his jeans popped free and the zipper fell with ease, revealing a pair of snug boxer briefs that formed to his erection. Between the fabrics, Elizabeth slipped her hand with a hurried, insistent stroke. Impulse stole the reins of her control, frantic kisses and greedy hands clamoring for more, more of him, more of the man she had loved in silence for months. As if he read her thoughts, Dean grasped the supple cheeks of her ass and picked her up. She inhaled a sharp breath as he planted his lips on hers for an insistent kiss that left her gasping for air.

Without wasting any time, Dean rushed to her room, closest to the kitchen, and threw the door open so hard it crashed into the opposite wall. He kicked it closed as it rebounded and pinned Elizabeth to it, another hard kiss pressed to her lips and his hips rolled his length against her center. A long moan into his mouth encouraged him, and unlike their tryst in the Impala, Dean kissed harder. While that night in the car had been all too thrilling, their approach had been gentle, tender even. Pinned to the door of her room with Dean so aggressive between her thighs, Elizabeth prayed for more. And she hoped he wanted the same in return.

Her legs slipped from his hips and her boots thumped to the floor. Another deft step spun them about, and she thanked God Dean moved with her as if in a dance he knew by heart. They followed each other’s subtle suggestions without hesitation, eager to please, to satisfy. And when she grasped the hem of his shirt, Dean’s arms reached for the ceiling, that eagerness glowing in his eyes with anticipation.

Elizabeth had plans, things she wanted from him. But when she rid him of his shirts, she stopped, stunned. In the darkness of the Impala all those months ago, she had not been able to see him, not even his face. And though she had felt the rolling muscles and subtle curves of his body, the sight of him shirtless, disheveled, and wanting pooled a swell of heat between her thighs that weakened her knees.

“What?”

His question drew her eyes to his where she found a wicked gleam. Her own devious grin spread across her lips as she licked them and said, “I haven’t really seen you like this before.”

As her fingers traced the grooves of his chest, his abs, Dean shivered, and gooseflesh covered his arms. “I'm guessing you approve?”

An unbidden hum sang through her nose as she smoothed the skin of his hips. “’Approve’ is one way to put it. Lust for, desire, covet, crave. Pick your favorite,” Elizabeth pinned him to the door with a rough check of her hips. A brief kiss earned her a gasping breath sucked through his nose and when she parted from him, she knelt as he breathed a moan. “None come close to describing just how much I’ve wanted this.”

The brilliant glow of understanding illuminated his giddy grin. “Thirst,” he whispered as he cupped her cheek, and his thumb teased at her lips. “I know that look in your eye. You thirst for me.”

Elizabeth responded on impulse, her lips parting and tongue reaching. The sharp salt of his skin filled her mouth as Dean’s thumb slipped in, and she closed her lips around it. Red lipstick smeared along his finger as she lifted her chin, withdrawing him from her mouth.

“Tease,” Dean stated.

“You like it.”

A coy smile crooked his lips. “Oh, I love it, Liz.”

He enjoyed her teasing. With that she could have far too much fun. She returned her touch to his hips, prying at the waistband of his underwear that peeked out above his unfastened jeans. Dean writhed with quiet moans as Elizabeth stripped him to his ankles and froze. There he stood still in all his erect glory, and she remained still. A heavy flex of his groin twitched his cock, and his jaw fell slack when her fingers returned to his thighs.

“Too much?” she asked.

He shook his head as he replied with a grunted, “No.” He grasped the base of his shaft and stroked his cock, relief easing his furrowed brow. “But I’m not gonna hold out much longer.”

God, but he was gorgeous, his want radiating from every muscle, every inch of his existence. Elizabeth merely watched as Dean pleasured himself, but the urgent need to have him sank to her core, soaking her underwear. The room had grown too hot, sweat dripping down her back, and so she removed her shirt, then joined him with her fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Think you got a few more minutes in you?” she pleaded.

“Only if you take your bra off,” Dean breathed with a wink.

A man that knew exactly what he wanted. Perfect. No indecisive bullshit from him, she knew that without a doubt. Maybe he could keep up with her own demands, she thought as she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. The thick fabric fell to the floor, Elizabeth so eager to be rid of it. Free of the restriction, she hummed a pleased sigh.

Once more, Dean gaped as he stared, his words slow to his lips. “Fuck, Liz, your tits are amazing.”

A sway of shoulders undulated her breasts, then she squeezed them together with her arms. “I suppose this is your first good look, too.”

He nodded as he bit his bottom lip, and another deep groan rolled from his chest as she returned her hands to his flesh, fingers wrapped around his cock. “Can’t wait to see the rest.”

Dangerously close, her lips neared the crown of his cock as she whispered, “You will. Eventually. But first…”

Dean’s fists clenched at his sides as he watched, and Elizabeth parted her lips. The tip of his cock met her skin and his head thumped against the door as he moaned. She had barely taken him into her mouth, but when the tip of her tongue teased the head of his cock, Dean melted. His thigh quivered beneath her touch, and his hips stuttered, seeming to resist the urge to thrust into her. With his last bid for control, Elizabeth had satisfied her desire to tease him. Her lips parted further with the drop of her jaw and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked his length to the back of her throat.

When her nose met his pelvis, Dean gasped, no moan or growl or grunt in his voice. Elizabeth reared a beat later and grasped his hips to keep them still, nails dug into his flexed muscles. Another bob of her head extracted the moan trapped in his chest as his hips thrust and his chin raised to the ceiling.

“Son of a bitch, Liz, that feels so fucking good,” he sighed. “Faster.”

She obliged, her head bobbing with the rhythm of his hips and her hand stroking his length in time. As each minute passed, his moans drifted higher, sang longer and louder until Dean all but whimpered. His hands gathered her hair at the back of her head, and Elizabeth sang with him as he thrust into her mouth. In the instant his hips faltered, she looked up to find his own eyes wide and wild with his impending release. There she relinquished control, one hand stroking a muscled thigh, the other slipped into her jeans as Dean fucked her mouth, his final thrusts beating in time with his stuttered breaths.

The sudden withdrawal of his length released a stream of saliva down her chin, and Elizabeth gasped for breath as Dean took himself in hand. Desperate strokes sought his end as he begged, “Open your mouth,” with a gasping whimper. “I’m… I want to see it. In your mouth. Please.”

Elizabeth did as he requested, her lips loose and tongue reaching for the head of his cock. He stroked harder, throaty groans and grunts familiar sounds to Elizabeth as he grasped her hair once more and held her still. The engorged head of his cock rested on her lips as that final wave of euphoria coursed through his body, evident in the long, jaw-dropping silent moan. The silken warmth of his cum filled her mouth in a long, slow stream that coated her lips and tongue. Tart, almost sour, the taste of his cum overwhelmed her senses, and Elizabeth breathed a moan through her nose as she stared into Dean’s eyes of wildfire.

She thought him finished, but when she closed her lips to suck him clean, Dean jerked back and a final shot of his cum lanced from his cock and landed on her left breast directly on her taut, rosy nipple.

“Holy shit,” he gasped as he released her hair. “I’m so sorry, that… I didn’t mean to do that.”

Elizabeth stood and, without a word, grasped Dean by the jaw and directed his gaze to her neck. She swallowed, the smooth fluid running down her throat. Finished, she licked her lips, and Dean gaped as he watched, his own tongue mirroring hers. “Clean it up for me?” she asked as she released her grip on his jaw.

A rough kiss landed on her lips as Dean took her head in both hands, tongue diving into her mouth. And though in the moment, Elizabeth marveled in the distinct contrast of their sexual encounters. So tender he had been in the Impala. But there in her room, Dean’s aggressive and desperate need for pleasure left her dizzy with want and eager for more.

The smear of his lips down her chin gripped her attention, tongue trailing down her neck to her collar, and then her chest. He slipped his hands to her back and held her still to his mouth as he lapped at the string of his cum, sucking at her flesh until he reached her nipple. There, his full lips enveloped her, his tongue circling. With a lewd pop, he sucked her clean, and Elizabeth whimpered her pleasure as her back arched, cool air teasing her wet flesh.

“I owe you,” Dean stated with a wicked grin. He kicked his boots off and freed himself of his remaining clothes, completely bare before her. And then he reached for her jeans, a flick of his fingers parting the button and drawing down the zipper. But there his confidence seemed to falter, and he stuttered as he spoke. “Are you… would you want me to—”

“For fuck’s sake, Dean, just ask. We’re too old for that shit,” Elizabeth demanded with a smirk.

His grin returned in full as he pulled her flush to his scalding skin, her breasts sticking to his sweaty chest. In her ear, he whispered, “I want to eat you out.”

The half-soft length of his cock pressed against the exposed flesh of her pelvis as Dean slipped her jeans past her hips. The primal need to feel all of him drove her nails into his shoulders, and they writhed together, grunts of frustration and anticipation mingling. “That wasn’t a question.”

Dean laughed despite his insistent hands that stripped her jeans to her ankles and tore away her boots. Knelt at her feet, he looked up to her and gaped, words failing until Elizabeth cocked an inquisitive brow. “May I taste you, Ms. Andersson?”

“Fuck me, you can do whatever you want if you keep calling me that,” Elizabeth shuddered as she kicked her jeans aside. “Would you prefer I addressed you as Mr.—”

“No. Do not,” Dean demanded as he stood, his glare suddenly serious. Another considering raise of her brow disarmed him, and Dean laughed off his seeming discomfort. Calloused fingers toyed with the thin edges of her underwear as he pulled her close again, teasing her hips. “Dean is perfect.”

The words he left unsaid, that Elizabeth knew ran through his head, broke her heart all over again. While she and Dean had their differences, she knew they were alike in ways that would benefit their new relationship. “Dean it is, then. Now, do I have to shove your head between my legs or are you gonna do it yourself?”

His wicked grin returned in a brilliant flash of freckles and green eyes. Rough hands shoved her back to the bed where she sat with a shocked moan at his roughness. Naked, he towered over her as he stepped between her knees and grasped her underwear by the hips. The rip of the fabric rent the air and Elizabeth cried out, not only in shock, but a wild wave of arousal.

“Too much?” he asked as he winced.

“Hell no,” Elizabeth laughed as she pulled away the ruined garment and tossed it to the floor. “Keep it up. If you think you can. Dean.”

That taunt lit a fire in him she had yet to see. And when he fell to his knees between hers, Elizabeth lay back, her arms stretched over her head as she watched. Another shove parted her thighs, and she gasped at his rough hands, demanding whatever he wanted. There in her room, helplessly bare to him, was the only time Elizabeth wanted Dean Winchester in command of her.

“Fingers?” he asked.

“Fingers…” she repeated with a long drawl.

He laughed as he rephrased, “Would you prefer fingers with my tongue, Ms. Andersson?”

A moan hummed through her nose as Elizabeth thought. “I said you could do whatever you wanted if you kept calling me that.”

She had been prepared for his continued rough treatment, but when Dean slipped two of his large fingers between her lips, Elizabeth startled. He had not penetrated her, only parted her sopping flesh already so wet with want and coated his fingers in her arousal. When she said nothing, he spoke in her stead, seeming to understand her shock.

“I wasn’t about to fingerbang you bone dry,” Dean mused.

Before Elizabeth had a chance to respond, his middle finger buried in her flesh, and she moaned as her back arched, needing more. “Dean, I… please. Add a finger or suck my clit. Better yet, do both, I can’t stand the teasing any longer.”

He did as she demanded, his perfect lips sealing around the exposed flesh of her clit as he withdrew and slipped another finger inside her. Her body responded, a primal reaction to being filled and sucked, and Elizabeth keened a long, high moan of euphoric pleasure.

Dean. Only Dean existed, his head buried between her thighs, sucking and licking and fingers thrusting, the rest of the world melting away. The lascivious, wet sounds emanating from them spiked her arousal, and when Dean’s green eyes locked with hers, that arousal coiled too tight to maintain. He took one last breath as he said, “Come for me, Liz. Come on my face,” then returned his lips to her flesh. With his tongue and fingers speeding up, her impending release neared.

That familiar wave of warmth from her core rushed through her entire body, and Elizabeth cried out her orgasm. Back arched and hands buried in his hair, she pressed his head hard against her sex, grinding against his face until every pulsing shock of her release ran its course. The warm wet of her arousal spread to her thighs as Dean’s tongue stroked her flesh, and in a final cry, Elizabeth collapsed on the bed. When she relaxed her grip, Dean rose up, lips and chin covered in her thin, pale white cum.

“I’ve died, and this is heaven,” he mumbled, tongue licking his lips. “My woman is a squirter.”

“Your woman?”

Dean hesitated at that, and Elizabeth knew he regretted his phrasing. So, she waited. Maybe he could dig himself out. Long seconds dragged until he knelt on the bed and lay by her side, legs entwined. His fingertips teased at her hips, her stomach, and she writhed with his surprisingly delicate touch. “Do you want a washcloth?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Don’t avoid the subject.”

“I’m not,” Dean protested as his arm encircled her and pulled her flush to him. “I’m trying to be considerate. Because I love you. And I want to be with you. Belong to you. Is that… too much? Too soon?”

She had been right. Dean, despite his tough exterior and masculine stoicism, loved with every fiber of his existence. Grave avoided. “It’s not too much. At all,” Elizabeth said as she touched his cheek. “I love you too. But no, I don’t need a washcloth.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he stated with a coy quirk of his lips. His hips rolled against hers, the hard length of his cock stroking her flesh. “Because I want to fuck you. May I fuck you, Ms. Andersson?”

There on her bed they lay for a moment of silence, staring, consuming. Her patience ran out when Dean did nothing, and so she shoved him at the shoulder to lay on his back, then straddled him. The slow rock of her hips earned her a short gasp, his breath catching in his throat. Her sopping cunt coated his cock in a thick layer of her arousal, and Dean moaned deep in his chest. “Holy shit, Liz,” he whispered as he grasped her hips. “You feel fucking amazing and I’m not even inside you yet.”

“You will be,” she sighed as she rose up on her knees. One hand reached between them and grasped his thick cock. Dean shivered, ecstasy on his gaping lips and in his wide eyes as she angled the swollen tip to the sopping heat of her flesh. “You’ll spread me,” she moaned as she released her thighs, a gradual descent down his length. With the head of his cock enveloped, Dean whimpered, and Elizabeth moaned with him. “You’ll fill me,” she continued, voice creeping ever higher as she lowered herself, inch by inch, onto his cock. When their bodies met, she cried out a long, high sigh to the ceiling, head thrown back and fingers grasping his hips. Dean, too, moaned a throaty growl so raw with arousal, Elizabeth shivered. “And you’ll fuck me.”

Dean’s hands met the supple flesh of her ass in a resounding slap as his hips bucked. That instinctive reaction drove his cock deep into her cunt, and Elizabeth’s broken gasp seemed to encourage him. With her own hard thrust, she settled his hips, thighs squeezed to hold him in place, and Dean gaped, whether in shock or arousal, she could not be sure. Must be both.

“But not until I fuck you first,” Elizabeth demanded as she lay atop him, breasts squeezed against the hard planes of his chest. A firm kiss planted on his lips drew another whimper as she sucked his bottom lip. “You’re all mine to ride now, cowboy.”

When she straightened, Dean’s hands slipped from her ass, smoothed over her ribs, then cupped both of her breasts. Elizabeth writhed with his touch, hips rolling and her cunt stroking his cock. “Do it then,” he started, but when she quirked a brow at him, he rephrased. “Please, Ms. Andersson. Ride my cock, I need to feel your pussy riding my cock.”

Calloused thumbs rolled her taut nipples and for a moment, Elizabeth’s thoughts ceased. The sight of Dean so desperate for her, beneath her, between her muscled thighs, and begging to be fucked had her so close to coming again, she had to consciously force herself to hold back. But not for long. Her thighs flexed as she rose again, and one slow stroke dragged a whimper out of Dean the likes of which Elizabeth had never heard. And so, she repeated the motion, gained speed with each rise and fall of her hips, each thrust and roll of his. The slaps of their bodies filled the room, as did their moans of pleasure, their growls and grunts of animalistic want combined with the heady aroma of their sex. It rivaled any drug or drink, for nothing compared to the sensation of Dean, vulnerable.

It took Elizabeth mere minutes before the wet of her cunt ran down his cock and rolled in tiny rivulets over his balls. That end dangled just out of reach, her arousal bound so tight in her core she worried it might tear her apart upon release. Though Dean appeared to be near that end as well, she rode him harder, leaning forward and bouncing her hips on his length as he thrust to meet her core. But that lasted no more than a few seconds before Dean grasped her ass once more, her expeditious pursuit of their mutual climax halted.

“What is it?” she asked.

A gulp of air did little to ease Dean’s breathy speech. “May I fuck you, Ms. Andersson?”

Dean’s flushed skin reddened further at the request, and Elizabeth wanted to die their atop him, a happy woman. “You are,” she said with a laugh.

“No,” Dean started as he sat up, arms wrapped around her from shoulder to hip. “I want to see it. I would love to see my cock buried in your pussy.” A gentle, tender kiss teased her lips, Dean’s tongue yet tart from her cum. Together they moaned as he rolled his hips, a subtle stroke of wanting. “Please, Ms. Andersson. May I fuck you?”

Without a reply, Elizabeth dismounted from him and, like a wild cat, stretched on her hands and knees. “Something like this?”

Dean’s gaze widened with awe, jaw slack, and an absent-minded hand crept along her ass to stroke her spine. Gooseflesh raced across her skin at his delicate fingertips, and at her neck, he repeated the stroke, trailing down to her ass. He brushed by her tight hole to tease the sopping, swollen folds of her cunt and spread her arousal. When he withdrew, Dean rose to his knees and settled between her legs spread wide, then coated her hole with the same two fingers.

“Fuck me, Liz, every inch of you is perfect,” he sighed. “Please tell me you have something for your ass.”

Damn. It was if he had known her for years. “In the night stand,” she said she reached for the handle, too far away.

Dean leaned over her, the heavy length of his cock pressed firmly between her cheeks. A muted whimper escaped her at that sudden sensation, his shaft stroking smooth as he rummaged through the drawer. “Christ, babe, how many of these things do you have?”

“Don’t give me shit,” Elizabeth retorted. “They’re fun.”

“I know they’re fun, but I don’t know which one to fucking pick, I’m too indecisive,” Dean explained with a laugh as he continued to search. “If I pick the wrong one—”

“None of them are wrong,” she stated with a buck of her hips. “Just pick one and get it lubed, dammit.”

A bright pink drawstring bag, one of many, rose from the drawer in Dean’s grasp. He parted the opening and withdrew a ribbed vibrator of soft blue silicone with a flared base, the perfect choice for what he intended.

“Condoms are in the drawer, too,” she directed, and Dean obliged. With the toy covered, he wasted no time, pressing the tip to her slick folds, and the phallus glided in effortlessly.

He moaned a sigh that slipped into his words as the base met her pelvis. “Damn, that’s so fucking hot. Feel good?”

With the press of a button, the vibration started, building from nothing to its lowest frequency. Elizabeth’s cry of pleasure sounded far more pathetic than she had intended, but in Dean’s amazing hands, she hardly cared. If anything, she hoped it drove him wild to see her in such a worthless state, a slave to her primal wants. “It feels amazing, Dean, but I need more.”

The vibrator withdrew in a smooth pull and left her too empty, her overstimulated sex desperate for more. Two fingers replaced it, a few quick thrusts that earned Dean another moan. She worried that, with all his teasing, she may come too soon, but a few deep breaths steadied her racing heart.

Until both fingers filled her hole. And then his cock returned, slipped into her cunt as if it belonged there, welcomed with heated flesh and more of her arousal that ran down her thighs. The shock of fullness, of the penetration and strokes and heat, coursed raw want through her entire body until she shivered with it. “Son of a bitch, you’re so relaxed already,” Dean said as he leaned over her back, bodies flush. With his lips against her ear, he whispered, “May I fuck your ass with your toy, Ms. Andersson?”

“Just fucking do it already, Dean, I’m done with the goddamn games.”

His confident hum of knowing drove Elizabeth mad and left her lightheaded behind eyes squeezed shut. With his fingers removed, the subtle hum of the vibrator pressed to her hole, slickened by her own arousal, then slid in the first inch.

The entire world came to a screeching halt. Elizabeth froze in that singular moment as her eyes snapped open. Inch by inch, Dean eased the vibrator into her, and, once sheathed, he pressed the button again. There he held it as he withdrew his cock with one slow stroke, then slammed his hips home, their bodies slapping in a resounding clap.

Together, they sang their songs of pleasure, a culmination of anticipation and satisfaction praising one another. “God, Liz, you are beyond perfection. I can feel everything, the vibrator, your pussy squeezing my cock, all of it, and it’s—”

Elizabeth pulled her hips from him, then thrust back to demand more. “Fuck me, Dean. I know it feels fucking incredible, but it’ll be even better when that huge cock of yours pounds my pussy raw.”

“Jesus, you sure know how to sweet talk a guy,” Dean retorted as he withdrew from her again. “Keep going, babe, I love your dirty mouth.”

A slow stroke filled her to the brim, and Elizabeth moaned as she arched further into the mattress. “Yes, Dean, like that. Fuck me,” she demanded, “I want you to fuck me so hard, I’ll be sore for days.”

Dean’s wordless moan reached a new height at that, his hips stuttering as he gathered speed. Another click of the button on the vibrator increased the frequency, and Elizabeth grunted an unbidden moan with the sudden change. “Damn, that feels so good. Your cock in my pussy and you, controlling that dildo in my ass. I want more, Dean, keep going. Faster.”

Breathless gasps emanated from behind her as Dean did as she demanded. He thrust into her hard and fast, the last level of the vibrator achieved with one more press of the button. And Elizabeth gasped despite her preparation, her fists gathering the sheets as she met his thrusts with her own bucking hips. “More, Dean, I’m so close,” she begged, her climax within reach. “God, fuck me, baby, come with me.”

“I’m—” Dean gasped but his words faltered with his repeated moans. His grasp shifted from her hips to her ass, then back again as he sought stability. “I’m--gonna come. I can’t—fuck.”

Each thrust pushed her another inch closer, her end so near. The tightly bound coil of heat in her core unraveled in seconds when Dean reached under her hip and found her clit, fingertips well coated in her arousal and circling her flesh. There, her world shattered once more, her climax exploding with unstoppable force, and Elizabeth screamed.

Harmony to her melody, Dean growled his own release into her neck, several short grunts punctuating his thrusts until his cock pulsed inside her. The rush of cum down her thighs, his and hers alike, set a quiver in her muscles and she shuddered beneath Dean’s weight. His sweat-drenched body stuck to hers as he placed tender kisses about her shoulders, neck, and jaw, the aftershocks of his release subsiding in a sublime sigh as he parted from her.

With a swift tug, Dean wrenched open her drawer again and withdrew two washcloths. He handed one to her, and Elizabeth cleaned herself as best as she could. With the vibrator powered off and removed, Elizabeth breathed her own sigh of contented ease, her muscles sore with a marvelous ache she would savor for days.

Collapsed to the bed, she lay on her back, one arm behind her head as the other reached for Dean. His washcloth fell to the floor with a flick of his wrist as he lay beside her, nose buried in the crook of her neck and a hand cupping her breast. He coiled so close to her, she could hardly tell where one body started and the other ended. And there Elizabeth discovered something she never expected.

“My man’s a post-fuck-cuddler.”

Dean curled closer, his massive arms squeezing her flush to his entire body as he hummed in agreement. “Damn straight, I am. This is the best part.”

She laughed at that, an embarrassingly girlish giggle. “That doesn’t change anything, you know.”

Green eyes met hers with a devious smirk. “Oh, I know. You’re on your own, now, big girl. No more backup from me. No, ma’am, you have to get your own kills.”

“Dean, that’s not--”

A gentle kiss met her lips, swallowing her words, and despite her frustration, Elizabeth sighed into Dean’s embrace. Parted, any trace of smarm or sarcasm had fled, his tone serious as ever. “I love you, Elizabeth. And I respect you. So, I promise to be better. But I will always have your six, just like I have Sam’s and Natalie’s. I will always have your back.”

His grin returned as he grasped the swell of her backside, fingertips biting into the supple muscle. Elizabeth sucked a breath through gritted teeth, her own nails digging into his taut shoulder. Dean moaned with her as he whispered to her. “Who wouldn’t want to cover your back? God damn, woman, do you do squats every day?”

“What do you think?” she asked as she rolled her hips against his and ran her fingers through his hair.

Dean groaned as he squeezed her ass again, the sting of his nails a perfect blend of pain and pleasure. “I think that round two might get here a little faster if you keep that up.”

Tags: @atc74, @hannahindie, @bevans87, @meganwinchester1999, @plaided-ani-on-hiatus, @gwen-cousland, @oneshoeshort, @jonogueira, @andkatiethings, @elfinmox, @wonderfulworldofwinchester

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