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lqveharrington · 7 months

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Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

1: Reaping Day (masterlist for series)

summary: Reaping day has arrived, and the new rule for who wins the Plinth prize has everyone on their toes.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: some suggestiveness, loads of fluff, your father and arachne are dicks, coriolanus being slightly jealous again, let me know if i missed any !!

word count: 3.2k +

a/n: heads up, i did change the reader’s last name because i needed it to be more cohesive with the writing! don’t worry, i changed the prolouge to have it say ‘Lovett’ instead of L/N. Speaking of which, if you haven’t read the prolouge yet, it’s linked here !!

You sat with your arms wrapped around Coriolanus’ bare torso, cheek pressed against his back. It was early in the morning, and you weren’t supposed to be there. Your father hated when you stayed over at their home, leading you to sneak out at night. The truth is, you almost always slept over at the Snows’ place. You felt more comfortable with them than your own manor.

But, that night you had to stay over as the day was more important than ever. They were announcing the winner of the Plinth prize and the tributes for the tenth annual Hunger Games.

You rubbed soft circles into the male's back, hoping to ease the anxiety building up.

“You’re going to win the Plinth prize, Coryo.” You whisper as you feel him start to rub your calf. “I know you will.”

Coryo messed with his father’s old compass. It gave him a sense of order in any time of need. “For you and my family.”

He felt you grin and plant faint kisses on his back. “Dean Highbottom will have no choice but to give it to you. You are by far the smartest one in our grade, no doubt the one with the best grades and attendance.”

“Besides you, beautiful.” He pulled you around to his side, tilting your chin up with one delicate hand. “If you win, do you think your father will still let me date you?”

“I highly doubt that, but you’ll win, Coryo. I believe in you.” You say as he takes your chin, guiding you into a gentle kiss. “It’ll be over in a few hours, and we’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be fine.” He murmurs against your soft lips. He leans his forehead against your own, his nose softly nudges yours. “We always will be.”

You stay in that position for a while, soaking in the warmth smiting from one another’s body. Your skin was soft against his making the moment more intimate, soothing both of your racing hearts.

When the clock read six AM, you knew you couldn’t stay any longer. You do your best to untangle yourself from him, earning a defeated sigh.

“I have to go.” You slowly stand from his bed, stretching out your body. He pulled you in by the waist, chin resting on your exposed abdomen.

“You have some time, right?” He raises his brows, nodding toward the direction of the bathroom.

You run your fingers through his blond hair, pretending to contemplate his question before answering. “If I ever say no to that, I think I would’ve gone insane.”

“Okay, I actually have to go now, Coriolanus. My father will have our heads.” You attempt to pull apart from his kisses, your school uniform on from last night. “I have to get home and get changed.”

He pulls you by the waist, shirt missing still. “Okay okay, I love you.”

You place one last kiss on his lips, patting his chest. “Love you too.”

You find Grandma’am in the other room, offering her a smile. “I’ll see you later, Grandma’am.”

“Bye now, darling.” She rubs your arm in a loving motion.

Glancing at Coriolanus one last time, you open the door to find Tigris standing there. You smiled brightly at her, opening the door wider.

“Coryo, I found your cousin!” You call out in the apartment.

“Were you just about to leave?” She stepped inside, Coriolanus’ shirt hanging from her hands.

“I am, I have to get home before the reaping.” You silently admire her handy work for the dress shirt.

She nodded and called for her cousin. “Coryo!”

You took one step out the door, but Tigris caught your arm. She lowered her voice when talking, hoping that you would be the only one to hear. “I would cover up those hickey marks if I were you, Y/N.”

You gasp, holding onto your neck. Your eyes search for the male who gave you such markings, glaring at his smirking figure.

“Coryo.” You flush red, realizing what he has done. “I don’t have— You know what? I’ll deal with it. I’ll see you soon.”

You leave their flat with a quick pace and head to your own home. You never took the car, knowing it was obvious where you went if you did. Instead, you had to walk back, leaving your hand by the marked-up area on your neck.

Upon reaching your room, you quickly changed into one of your mother’s old dresses for the reaping. It was a slightly puffy long-sleeved, black satin dress with a v-neck that tied in a bow by the high waistline. You clipped on your silver rose earrings, and silver bracelet, and adjusted the silver necklace already adorned on you; The necklace that was given by Coriolanus on your birthday. Your hair and makeup were swiftly done, thankfully remembering to cover the prominent hickeys. You slipped on your platform boots and rushed down the manor’s stairs, grabbing your bag by the door.

“Good luck today.” Your father comments, nodding at you. “Hopefully you get a good one.”

You flash a weak smile before heading out the front door and into the car where your chauffeur was waiting. Your thoughts flickered through many things, but your father’s words stuck with you.

A few minutes later, you arrived at the Capitol building. You thanked your chauffeur and met up with Clemensia by the front, discussing the Plinth prize when an arm pulled you away from her; Probably for the hundredth time.

“Don’t you look beautiful.” The blond spoke in a straightforward yet amiable tone, leading you inside.

“And you look handsome as ever, Coryo.” You briefly look at him, arms still looped together. His father’s shirt fitted on him with Grandma’am’s signature rose pinned to his black vest. “You have to stop pulling me away from Clemmie. We were actually having a good conversation today.”

“Hm, she can deal with it. I’ve been taking you from her since we were children.”

“You’re as pure as the driven snow.” You tease, earning an eye roll.

The both of you saw and met up with your other classmates: Felix Ravinstill, Arachne Crane, and Festus Creed. Each one having a different emotion plastered across their face.

“Finally, the couple of the hour,” Arachne announced before she took a sip from the drink in her hand. She complimented your dress in a dismissive action then directed her attention to Coriolanus. “That’s a snazzy shirt, what are those buttons? Tesserae?”

“Oh. That’s why they remind me of the maid’s bathroom.” He messed with the shirt in response, earning a subtle slap on the arm from you.

“Have you tried this lamb? It’s scandalous.” Felix commented as he ate.

You raise a brow, “What an odd choice of words, Ravinstill.”

“It’s delicious, thank you—“

“Only the vulgar eat with their fingers, Felix,” Festus said in disgust. “What? Daddy not teach you table manners?”

“Maybe he would’ve if he wasn’t so busy running the country.” He shot back. Felix shifted his gaze between the group. “Hey, they called us here for the Plinth prize, right? Because I hear Dr. Gaul is in the building.”

You shuffle uncomfortably at the shared information, picking at your nails.

He scoffs as his gaze finds the Plinths. “Plinth. I mean, look at his spawn. Who would’ve thought that you could buy your way into the Capitol.”

“Well, you can’t buy class. Did you see his mother’s outfit? Sorry, his Ma’s.” Festus corrected himself in a way Sejanus would speak.

“Dress a turnip in a ball gown and it’ll still beg to be mashed,” Coriolanus added to the conversation through calculated words.

“Don’t do that.” You mumble toward him, taking a drink off of one of the server’s trays.

“We all know that you like him,” Arachne spoke to Coriolanus.

He retorted back, “I don’t like him, Arachne. I tolerate him.” He lightly shrugged. “He’s district.”

You frown at his words but say nothing, opting to sip on the drink while waiting for the reaping to start.

“Tolerate him, just don’t encourage him,” Festus replied as Arachne mouthed words of distrust. “If I hear one more time about how immoral these hunger games are, I’ll put him in the arena my…”

Sejanus came over, silencing the current conversation at hand. You gave him a small smile, earning one back.

“Sejanus, you made it to the reaping—” You were cut off by Festus.

“For once.”

“And you made it to graduation, Festus. We’re both shocked.”

You and Coryo let out a breathy chuckle at the comeback as Arachne starts to question him about the winner of the Plinth prize.

“Oh no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him, but they do love his money.” Sejanus answers her, looking around the room. “You know what that’s like, right Arachne?”

“Funny.” She scowls, leaving the group.

The men try to hold back their laughter whilst you roll your eyes at them, leaving the side of your lover. By leaving, you had him following you around like a lost puppy; Eventually letting him wrap an arm around your waist. You both make rounds in the extensive building. You greeted those who talked to you or had a familiar face while Coryo simply observed your social manner.

As you left the conversation with your other classmates, you brought up Arachne, finding her sulking in a corner. “You would think she could handle that insult from Sejanus since she dishes out half of the others in this place.”

He hummed in agreement with you, “She never stops talking.”

“Never does.” You place your empty glass down on one of the tables.

Music started to play through the speakers, announcing that the reaping was about to begin. Coryo led you to your seats, helping you up the platform before taking his seat.

“Good luck, Coryo.” You squeeze his hand as you take the seat beside him, Clemnsia taking the seat to your left.

Coriolanus let you take his hand into your lap, letting your fidgeting soothe his never-ending nerves.

“Clem, does it feel like something’s off today? Usually, the reaping and Plinth prize doesn’t require Dr. Gaul’s presence.” You strike up a conversation with the raven-haired girl. “Something is going to happen, and I’m not too sure it’s a good thing.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine, Y/N. Besides, we all know Coryo is going to win that Plinth prize.” She crosses her legs at the same time as you. “You’re going to be drowning in the money.”

“Well, it’s not mine.” You squeeze the blond’s hand again, his thumb rubbing small circles on yours. “It’s his to spend in any way he wants.”

“You’re his—“

Clemensia was interrupted by Dr. Gaul’s sinister laugh, silencing the entire room.

“How tantalizing to see all your shining, young faces on this auspicious day.” Dr. Gaul starts, Coryo lacing your hands back together. “I am Dr. Volumina Gaul, your humble head game maker, in charge of the war department and all its affiliated conserves. I’ve broken free of my laboratory today…”

Her voice cancels out in your mind, your heart racing a million miles per hour by her ominous nature. Something was definitely wrong. From Dr. Gaul being here to Coriolanus being nervous to your father’s words, your gut told you that everything would go downhill from today’s reaping. With each passing second, the drumming in your ears got louder and the world around you blurred, blinking furiously to rid of the mush of colors.

Coryo noticed the shift in your small actions, bringing his thumb to the pulse on your wrist. He started to trace shapes, calming you down to a certain degree.

You return to the present conversation when Dean Highbottom mentioned the Plinth prize. You sat up straight and held your breath, glancing at Coryo.

“However,” he pauses, looking down toward the floor. “I am here to tell you there’s been a change this year. One final assignment to prove your worth… Because the esteemed citizens of the Capitol have grown bored of the games and simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience. So, head game maker, Dr. Gaul has stepped in to incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flare; Starting with you.”

Coriolanus met your concerned eyes when he took a glimpse at you, looking down at your fiddling hands.

“The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades—“

“Excuse me?” You and Arachne say at the same time, frowning at his words.

“—But by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games.”

Your calmed self faltered by his words. The drumming and blur of the world in front of you returned with each word that came out of Highbottom’s mouth. Coryo squeezed your hand, trying to regulate your breathing, but it wasn’t working. The careful wall built around your true emotions, which only a select amount of people saw, chipped away. You didn’t want to mentor an innocent person to their inevitable death just to win the Plinth prize. No, you wanted the male to your right to win the Plinth prize through his intelligence, zero deaths included.

“This is a brand new rule.” The dean continues. “As the reaping progresses live, I will allocate each district tribute a Capitol mentor behind the scenes; One who must, you know, just persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

“Obviously, the best mentor will be the one whose tribute wins the games,” Festus added fuel to the fire currently burning at your skin.

“What if I get a pathetic mark girl from one of the poor districts like eight or twelve? They’re just gonna die in two minutes like they did last year and the year before.” Arachne complained once more, irritation bubbling inside you.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles, Miss Crane. Not survivors.” Dean Highbottom answered her with an unidentifiable undertone. “Victory in the games is only one of our considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

A beat passes.

“Oh, and I must tell you that anyone caught cheating, to give their tributes an unfair advantage, will just have no future at all.” He shrugs, looking at the twenty-four best students in the class.

The music for the reaping blasts through the speakers, making your head snap up at the two screens displaying the tributes. This time, Coryo takes your hand and brings it to his lap, making it easier for him to calm your figure down as the dean assigns each tribute to each one of your classmates.

For you, the only things you saw were innocent people who didn’t want to fight. With every child passing the screen, your heart broke. You never wanted to be placed in a situation where you either lived or died for the entertainment purposes of those wealthier than you.

“Eleven,” Highbottom speaks loudly, looking at his paper of names. “Boy, Clemensia Dovecote. Girl, Y/N Lovett.”

Your eyes focus on the poor girl walking up to the stage. This was your absolute final straw. The girl was clearly sick and needed medical attention before performing such demanding tasks such as the Hunger Games. Your heart shattered as the peacekeepers took her away.

You would be damned if that girl died in vain, and it was your task to protect the girl, not turn her into a spectacle of entertainment.

“Twelve. Boy, Vipsania Sickle. Oh, you’ll be happy about this Miss Crane.” Dean Highbottom walks off the platform, gesturing to the screens. “The runt girl, District Twelve, belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The screen flashes to the girl from District Twelve as she makes her way up the stage. Something about her aura made you believe she was not the runt girl Highbottom made her out to be. Her rainbow-colored dress gave an interesting twist to the reaping, district people never wore such bright colors together.

“What is that dress? Is she some sort of clown?” Arachne insults the girl. Her words clicked something in your mind, having enough of her for the day.

“I think her dress is beautiful, Crane. Unlike the way you dress daily, you could be mistaken for a district girl.” You fire, Coryo tightening his grip on your hand.

She sneers at you but turns her attention back to the screen when screaming is heard from the speakers.

Coriolanus jumps out of his seat, dropping your hand in the process. You’ve never seen him react in such a way, shocking you at most. The only other time he acted like that was when you nearly slipped down winding stairs during winter.

He remained standing as the girl, now known as Lucy Gray, started singing, earning murmurs from the crowd in the building.

“Singing.” Arachne hums. “Is she out of her mind?”

You whip your head toward the girl, “For the love of everyone in the Capitol, shut up, Crane. Our ears bleed each time you speak.”

She snaps her mouth shut, face red from the embarrassment you caused. You hum in satisfaction, earning a small smirk from Coryo, something you didn’t see before screaming can be heard once more.

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!” Lucy Gray screams with all her emotion.

Everyone in the building started to laugh at the tribute’s actions, a few murmurs going around about the young woman. You grin at the girl’s fearlessness but remember your own tribute, your grin fading. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, let out an airy chuckle, a small grin making its way on his face at his allocated tribute.

Lucy Gray takes her bow on stage and gets escorted out, along with Jessup. The screens flash to black and it seemed like all anyone could talk about was Lucy Gray. About how she was possibly crazy or mentally ill. Or about how she presented herself in such an interesting way. She was by far the crowd’s favorite at the moment.

You look up at your boyfriend, finding him already staring at you.

“What?” You give him a puzzling stare.

“Let’s go.”

Your arm was looped with Coriolanus’ again, silence filling the empty halls as you left the Capitol building.

“Are you okay?” Coryo lowered his head by your ear, pulling you beside one of the pillars.

You shake your head, “Don’t worry about me—“

“My job is to worry about you.” He placed his hands on your shoulders. “What’s going on in your mind?”

“I…” You searched his eyes for something. You didn’t know exactly what you were looking for, but you couldn’t find it.

A voice cleared their throat behind the both of you, alerting you of his presence. You tilt your head to the left, seeing Dean Highbottom wait expectantly, most likely for Coriolanus.

“Are you staying over tonight?” The blond asked, rubbing circles into your shoulders.

“I don’t think so…” You murmur close to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you.” He pecked your forehead, letting you go.

You give a weak smile, “Love you too.”

Clutching your bag by your side, you finally exit the building, finding your brilliant chauffeur waiting for you.

“Miss Lovett, your father informed me to tell you to start picking out a new suitor.” He said as he opened the car door for you.

You took a deep breath. Reaping day was finally over, but the mentoring had just begun.

taglist: @peterparkerluvvbot @nathaslosthershit @springholland @psychicpuppyarcade @emma-andrea1 (ask for taglist on comments or dm !!)

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fatecantstopme · 5 months

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Truth Serum

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: When you're captured by a powerful witch, Sam and Dean race to save you. The three of you are confronted with painful truths that will change your relationships forever.

Warnings: Canon violence, swearing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), dom/sub vibes. Dean surrenders control to reader.

Buy Me a Coffee 💜

You woke up in an unfamiliar room, unable to move, and your memory was fuzzy--you had no idea how you'd gotten here. All you knew in that moment was your head was pounding and your arms were tied securely behind your back.

You looked around the room, seeking something familiar to ground yourself, but nothing spoke to you. You wracked your brain in an attempt to remember how the hell you got here...the last thing you could remember was going to get dinner for yourself and the boys.

Sam and Dean's faces appeared in your mind and you strained to hear anything else in the room or surrounding area--seeking either of their voices or anything that might indicate they were near. To your dismay, it was completely silent, not a single sound disturbed the night. All you could hear was the sound of your own panicked heart beating and the deep breaths that accompanied it.

You knew the boys would be searching for you, but you had no idea how long you'd been missing or if there were any signs of where you'd gone. You could only hope they would find you before it was too late. You had a feeling the witch the three of you had been hunting had found you first--and there was no telling what they would do to you.

You tried in vain to get yourself out of the binds that secured your hands together, swearing under your breath as the actions were fruitless. The only thing you'd succeeded in doing was giving yourself rope burn on both wrists.

At some point during your struggle, another person had entered the room, but you didn't notice their presence until they spoke. "Glad to see you're awake."

Your head spun in the direction of the voice and a woman stepped out from the shadows with a dark smirk on her face. She was objectively quite beautiful, with sunshine blond hair and brilliant green eyes. Her eyes reminded you of Dean's emerald orbs--though her's lacked the spark that lived in Dean's.

"Who are you?" you asked angrily.

"My name is Camille, little hunter. I believe you've been looking for me."

Her voice had an odd melodic tone to it that bothered you in a way you couldn't quite explain. It made your brain both fuzzy and painfully clear at the same time--a combination you didn't care to ever experience again.

"You're the witch I've been hunting," you stated.

"Very good, little hunter."

"I do have a name, you know," you muttered, slightly annoyed at the nickname.

"My apologies, hunter. What is your name?"

"(Y/N)."

"(Y/N)," Camille repeated. "And are you here alone?"

Every instinct you had told you to lie, but when you opened your mouth, you were surprised when the truth spilled from your lips. "No, I am here with two other hunters."

Camille smiled cruelly as she observed the shocked expression on your face. "You'd intended to lie, hadn't you?"

That melodic tone had intensified and you struggled to form the words you wanted. "What are you doing to me?" you growled lowly.

Camille smirked again. "Teaching you not to lie, little hunter."

"Well stop," you insisted.

She laughed. "Sorry, little hunter. It's part of my charm." She paused, attention turning towards the door. "It appears we're no longer alone." She put her finger to her lips and faded back into the shadow.

You shifted your gaze to the door and began listening for sounds. You heard the telltale sound of boots hitting the floor and you knew in your heart it was Sam and Dean. Everything in you wanted to call out to them--to warn them--scream--something, but not a single sound escaped when you opened your mouth. Anger settled in your bones, hating your inability to warn your friends.

The doorknob began to turn slowly and you let out a soft whine--the most you could manage in the moment.

"(Y/N)?" Dean's voice whispered from the other side of the door.

You were relieved to hear his voice, but terrified of what would happen next. You wanted to respond, but words continued to escape you.

The door slowly opened to reveal Sam and Dean's concerned faces. They quickly scanned the room, eyes falling on your form in the center of the room.

"(Y/N/N)," Dean said, clearly relieved to see you unharmed.

He started to come towards you, but you shook your head, eyes wide and alert. You wanted to say something, needed to tell him the witch was here--they were all in danger.

"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay. We'll get you out of here," Dean whispered.

You shook your head again, but it was too late. As soon as Dean took a step towards you, Camille stepped forward and sent both him and Sam flying against the wall. She waved her hand and two chairs appeared beside yours, and with another wave, both men were seated in said chairs. Their arms were tied behind their chairs in similar fashion to yours before they could even register what was happening.

"I'm so glad you could join us," Camille said as she came farther into the room, fully revealing herself to the new arrivals.

Dean glared at her in annoyance. "I'm guessing you're the witch bitch we've been looking for."

She smiled. "Indeed I am. My name is Camille, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Dean Winchester," Dean forced out, a look of surprise on his face. "And this is my brother, Sam."

Camille smiled. "Oh I've heard of you--the great Winchesters. I'm honored to have made your list, though I'm afraid you won't be successful this time around."

"Don't be too sure about that," Sam stated, speaking for the first time.

"It appears I have the upper hand, little hunters, so save the ego for someone else."

"'Little hunters'?" Dean asked in annoyance.

"Don't let it bother you, she's been calling me that since I woke up," you muttered. "I think it brings her joy."

"It does bring me joy," Camille commented. "But what really makes me happy is having the three of you here to play with. This is going to be such fun."

You felt the anger rise within you once again and you struggled against your bindings--useless or not, you couldn't give up. You noticed both Sam and Dean were doing the same.

"What do you want with us?" Sam asked.

"Obviously I'm going to kill you," she answered. "But not just yet."

You closed your eyes, sadness washing over you. You didn't want to die, but you couldn't bear the thought of Dean dying. Not that you didn't care about Sam, but you cared for Dean very deeply--seeing him die would destroy you.

"You shouldn't have come," you whispered.

"What was that, little hunter?"

You turned your gaze to Dean, who was sitting directly to your left, with Sam on the other side of him. "Neither of you should have come."

Surprise lit up both men's faces, but it was Dean who spoke. "Did you really think we would leave you?"

You shook your head and sighed.

"Tell us, little hunter, why didn't you want them to save you?"

You made eye contact with Camille and felt the anger flare up again. You resisted answering her question directly, instead saying, "I don't want anything to happen to them."

Camille took a step closer to you. "You're strong willed, little hunter. Most people can't resist my charms--I have them spilling their deepest, darkest secrets within seconds."

You simply glared at her, not willing to give in to her bait.

"Come now, tell me the truth," Camille said softly. "Why didn't you want them to save you?"

The melodic tone of her voice threatened to crush you. It felt like someone was squeezing your insides every time you attempted to resist her demands--whenever you wanted to lie or avoid the truth.

"What the hell are you doing to her?" Dean yelled.

"She needs to be honest. I don't like being lied to."

The pain intensified, forcing the words from your lips, "I didn't want Dean to get hurt."

"That's better," Camille said smugly. "Just Dean? What about Sam? You don't care about him?"

"Of course I do," you insisted.

"Then why did you only mention Dean?"

You tried to resist--you didn't want to admit the truth, especially in front of Dean. You'd spent years hiding your feelings and you sure as hell didn't want to admit to anything in the presence of witnesses. "None of your business," you forced out painfully.

Camille's face lit up in surprise. "Very strong willed," she muttered. "You can't resist forever, little hunter."

Her voice made the pain you were experiencing almost unbearable. You could barely breathe and a gasp of pain escaped your lips.

"(Y/N), please," Dean begged, clearly worried about you.

Your resolve broke and the words slipped from your mouth without thought, "I care about him!" As soon as the words left your lips, the pain lifted, allowing you to catch your breath.

"See? Was that so hard?" Camille asked cruelly. "Who's next?" She looked at both men before stepping towards Sam. "Tell me, Samuel, why did you come to save (Y/N)?"

"Because she's family," Sam answered honestly.

His words warmed your heart and you shot a weak smile his way. You considered Sam and Dean family too--it was nice to know they felt the same, or at least Sam did. You couldn't look at Dean, you were too afraid of what you'd see on his face. You hadn't really admitted your feelings, but you were worried he knew you too well to miss the truth in your words.

"Boring," Camille muttered before turning her attention to Dean instead. "Your turn, handsome. Why did you come to save (Y/N)?"

Dean glared at her, but his face twitched slightly, belying the pain he was feeling. It took all his strength to force out the words, "What he said," while nodding his head in his brother's direction.

Camille laughed coldly. "Don't lie to me, Dean." She leaned forward and asked him again, but he continued to resist.

You forced yourself to look at him and you could see the pain in his eyes. He was desperately trying to keep himself from answering, but it was obvious he was losing the battle.

Camille frowned and leaned farther forward, grabbing his chin in her hand and forcing him to make eye contact with her. "Answer me, Dean. Why did you come to save (Y/N)?"

Dean struggled for a moment, jaw clenched in anger and frustration. Camille squeezed his jaw harshly and Dean groaned in pain. Just when you thought Camille was going to give up, Dean yelled his answer, shocking everyone present. "BECAUSE I LOVE HER!"

He was breathless as the words left his lips and Camille let go of his face, a smile gracing her pretty face. "Finally, a little honesty."

You were shocked into silence, unable to fully process his words and their meaning. Dean Winchester couldn't have possibly just admitted his feelings for you--there was no way.

Camille returned her attention to you, a dark smile on her face. "How does that make you feel, (Y/N)?"

You closed your eyes and didn't answer her question.

"You admitted you care about him, but do you love him too?"

You stayed silent, fighting her truth-forcing voice. It wasn't that you didn't want to admit your feelings--you just didn't want her to know. You didn't want her to use your love for Dean against you or him. So you resisted her charms and kept your mouth shut despite the pain.

"If I can force the great Dean Winchester to be honest, don't think for a second that I can't do the same to you, little hunter," Camille seethed.

Your eyes shot open and you glared at her, burning a hole in her soul. "No," you growled.

"No, you don't love him?"

You didn't respond.

"Or you think you can keep your feelings a secret?"

You still didn't respond.

Camille put her hands on the arms of your chair and leaned in, her face frighteningly close to yours. "Tell me the truth, or I'll kill him."

You didn't need to ask to know she was referring to Dean and not Sam. For a moment you considered calling her bluff, but the anger in her eyes told you she wasn't playing a game. She would kill him without hesitation.

You turned your head to look at Dean and found his gaze already on you. Terror was etched into his handsome features--terror for you. Your decision was made in an instant and you stopped fighting.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," you said, addressing the green-eyed hunter directly. "I know I promised you we would always be friends, but I don't think I can do that anymore. You see…I fell in love with you. I don't even know when it happened, it just--did."

Dean's beautiful green eyes betrayed his emotions, even if his face remained impassive. He'd spent the better part of the past two years wishing and hoping to hear you say those words to him. You could see the love reflected in his gaze and you knew his utterance hadn't been a heat of the moment thing--he'd meant it.

Camille's face remained close to yours as she laughed mockingly. "It's a pity you didn't admit your feelings sooner--perhaps you could have been together."

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Sam's hands slipping from the grasp of the ropes. In a split second, you made a decision that could either save your life or end it. You turned your attention back to Camille and slammed your forehead into her face with all of your strength.

Luckily, you'd caught the witch by surprise and she want sprawling backwards, clutching her nose and cursing angrily. Her attention remained on you as she started to recite a spell.

The pain that struck your body was unlike anything you'd ever felt before and you knew you were dying--if she had the opportunity to finish the spell, you would be gone.

Dean yelled your name and struggled with everything he had to free himself. Sam, on the other hand, had sprung up from his chair and lunged at Camille, sending her sprawling onto the floor. The two of them were struggling as Sam pulled a knife from inside his jacket.

Dean managed to get his hands out of the ropes and he quickly jumped into the fray to help his brother. Sam managed to slip the blade into Camille's chest--a scream of pain leaving her throat.

Knowing his brother had the situation under control, Dean turned his attention to you. You were breathing heavily, but were mostly unharmed. The effects of Camille's spell were dying with her, for which you were thankful.

Dean pulled out his own knife and cut the ropes that bound you. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and fell against him. His arms wrapped around you and he held you close. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

You lifted your head to look at him and nodded, tears filling your eyes.

He offered you a soft smile and brushed your hair from your face. "Let's get you out of here."

"Please," you muttered.

Dean helped you up and turned to look for his brother. Sam had just stood up, Camille's body lying dead on the floor beneath him. "She's gone. I'll take care of the body and we can get the hell out of here."

Dean nodded. "I'm gonna take (Y/N) back to the motel. She needs to rest."

"I'm fine, Dean--really," you insisted.

Dean shot you a glance. "You had it worse than either of us. You need to rest."

His voice was so firm, leaving no room for argument, so you threw your hands up in surrender.

Sam offered you a soft smile. "He's right, (Y/N). I'll meet you guys back at the motel when I'm done here."

"Call if you need anything," Dean said before escorting you from the room.

**********

The car ride back to the motel was completely silent--and not in the comfortable way. Neither of you knew what to say or where to begin. There was an awkwardness between you that you'd never had before and it only added to the pre-existing tension.

When you got into the motel room, you sat down on your bed with a sigh. Dean grabbed two beers from the fridge, handing one to you before taking a seat at the little table by the door.

The two of you began to drink your beers in silence, but it quickly became unbearable. "Dean, I think we should talk."

He looked at you for the first time since you'd gotten back to the motel. You could see the fear in his eyes and you realized he was worried you were going to tell him you didn't mean what you'd said--that you didn't love him.

You sat the beer on the side table and stood up. "Don't you think for a single moment that I didn't mean what I said, Dean Winchester. I meant it--every word. No witch can make me say something that isn't true...I've been in love with you for years."

His lips parted in surprise, eyes swimming with emotions. "I meant it too," he whispered as he stood up and stepped towards you. "I love you, (Y/N)--I think I always have."

Your lips curled up in a small smile. "This isn't how I'd planned on telling you."

"Had you planned on telling me?"

"No," you answered honestly. "I was scared."

"Me too," he said softly. "Terrified, actually."

"Of what?"

"I always assumed you wouldn't want me...you know me too well, (Y/N). You've seen me at my absolute worst and you know how damaged and broken I am. Why in the world would you choose to love me?"

"Okay, first of all, cut that self-loathing shit out. You don't get to do that with me. You're right--I do know you too well. I have seen you at your worst, but I've also seen you at your best. I know who you truly are and you're a damn hero, Dean. You inspire me every day. We face the shittiest things life can possibly throw at us and you always keep fighting--you never give up. You keep me going even when I want to give up. You're the most incredible man I have ever met and I am truly blessed to be loved by you."

He took three steps forward, stopping mere inches from you. His eyes were filled with love, which you were certain was reflected in your own. "I don't deserve you, baby, but I swear I will never stop trying to be worthy of your love."

You touched his cheek gently. "You don't have to try, Dean. I love you just as you are."

He smiled slowly, his eyes lighting up as his gaze scanned your face. "Anyone ever tell you you look like a goddess?"

You laughed lightly. "You'd be the first."

He gave you an adorable lopsided grin, as his arm snaked around your waist and tugged you closer. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours and you melted into him, a soft moan escaping against his lips.

His tongue brushed gently against your lips, which you parted to allow him entry. He tasted like mint and beer and something just distinctly Dean.

You slipped your hands into his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, before doing the same with his flannel. His gentle, calloused hands slid under your shirt and pushed it upwards. You broke the kiss long enough to allow him to take off your shirt and his own before connecting your lips again.

You reveled in the feeling of his warm, strong chest against yours. His skin was soft and smooth as you ran your hands over the taunt muscles of his back.

His hands slipped lower, caressing your ass, fingers digging in as he tugged you closer to him. You could feel his bulge pressing into your lower belly and you were suddenly desperate to feel him--really feel him.

You tugged on his belt, undoing it quickly then shifting to the button on his jeans. He helped you remove his jeans and you took the opportunity to remove yours as well. As soon as you were both mostly naked, Dean grabbed you and dragged you to the bed, tossing you onto it and crawling on top of you.

His hungry lips attacked yours again, hands roaming any part of you he could reach. "God, your skin is so soft, baby," he whispered.

You didn't have the opportunity to respond as Dean's lips found the sweet spot on your neck--the one that always drove you wild. You had no idea how he knew where to kiss, but you didn't have it in you to ask. The soft moans that left your lips told him how much you were enjoying the feeling of his lips against your skin--and he had no intention of stopping.

His hand slipped behind your back and tugged at the clasp of your bra. You arched your back to give him better access and he made quick work of the undergarment, tugging it off and throwing it across the room. He groaned softly as he gazed at your exposed breasts. "I think it would be best if you never wore a bra again," he mumbled.

Your soft chuckle turned to moans of pleasure as his lips attached to your nipple and his hands began to gently kneed your supple flesh. Your fingers wound themselves into his short hair and you sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of his hands on you.

His mouth continued its trail downward, placing open mouthed kisses to your skin. He nipped at the softer parts of your body, eliciting gasps and moans of enjoyment.

He smirked against your skin, enjoying the sounds you made for him. He pressed his lips to your core, teasing you with his lips and tongue before finally slipping his tongue between your folds. He growled lowly, burying his face deeply between your thighs.

"Dean," you gasped, fingers twisting into his hair.

"You taste like fucking heaven," he murmured, lifting his head just enough to get the words out before diving back in.

You'd had sex plenty of times before, but never in your life had you been eaten out like this--Dean Winchester was a master--a genius--with his mouth.

"Fuck--Dean, please!" you cried.

He seemed to know what you needed, reading your body like a book. He slid two fingers inside of you and began to gently press them into your most sensitive spot, drag them along your walls, and do it again on repeat.

His mouth focused on your clit while his fingers continued to stroke your walls. He could feel you getting close--your pussy was squeezing his fingers and your thighs had begun to tighten around his head.

Your fingertips scratched against his scalp and you ground yourself down against his mouth, chasing your impending orgasm. Dean tightened his grip on your hips, holding you in place. Your moans increased in volume as you suddenly fell over the edge.

Your legs began to shake as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Dean continued his ministrations, not wanting to stop until you forcefully tugged his hair to get him off.

"Sensitive, baby," you whimpered.

Dean gave your pussy a few more kitten licks before relenting and allowing you to pull him up. He licked his lips happily, a smirk gracing his handsome face.

He crawled back up your body, kissing your skin as he moved. When his lips finally pressed against yours again, his cock brushed against your core, earning a sharp inhale from both of you.

"I wanted to take my time with you, sweetheart, but I need to be inside of you immediately."

You chuckled lightly. "I'm certainly not going to complain."

He grinned and flipped over onto his back, dragging you with him so you were now straddling his thighs.

"Dean!" you giggled as he manhandled you.

"I thought you'd want to ride me," he teased.

"Oh did you now?"

"Since you like to be in control and all."

"Just because I tell you what to do, doesn't mean I want to be in control in bed, Dean."

"So you don't wanna be on top?" he asked. "Cuz I can roll you back over, pretty girl."

You pressed both hands down on his chest to keep him in place. "Now, I didn't say that..."

He grinned. "That's what I thought."

"But if you're gonna give me control, I want complete control."

He looked a little worried for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Hey," you said softly. "If you don't want to, it's okay."

"No, no--I want to," he insisted. "I'm just...not used to it."

"If you want me to stop or you don't like something I'm doing, just tell me, okay?"

He nodded and squeezed your hips affectionately. "I trust you."

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him. "Put your arms above your head."

He did as you asked and waited for your next command.

"Hold on to the headboard, handsome," you ordered. "And do not move them, understand?"

He nodded.

You grabbed his jaw and held it tightly. "Words, Dean."

His eyes widened in surprise, but you noticed the dark lustful look in them. "Yes ma'am," he whispered.

"Good boy." You sat back up and slid back so you were straddling his thighs. You dragged your fingers down his chest, nails scratching gently against his skin.

He groaned softly, clearly enjoying the sensation.

You smiled, pleased to see he liked what you were doing. You lowered your head to lick a stripe up his painfully hard cock. You twirled your tongue slowly around the head, eliciting a moan of pleasure from Dean.

You smirked before dropping your head to take him into your mouth as deeply as you could.

"Oh--fuck--" he groaned.

Your head was bobbing up and down, sucking his cock like your life depended on it. You relaxed your throat, allowing him to slip farther in. You constricted your throat around him and continued to use your tongue to pleasure him.

"Holy--" Dean squirmed beneath you. "Feels so good, baby."

You moaned, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his entire body.

"Jesus, baby." He was dying to tangle his fingers in your hair, but he didn't want to disobey your order. "I can't--baby, I need you to stop or I'm gonna cum."

You moaned in disappointment, but you lifted your head off of him and moved to straddle his hips. You gently rubbed your core against his cock, and his hips thrust upwards in an attempt to seek more friction.

"Uh-uh, no moving," you ordered.

"But, I--"

"No moving, Dean. Keep your hands where they are and keep those hips on the bed."

"Yes ma'am," he mumbled.

You smiled softly and stroked his cheek affectionately. "I'll let you know when you can move."

You grabbed his cock and lined it up with your core before sinking down on it in one fluid motion. You both groaned in pleasure at the feeling--your pussy stretched to the absolute max.

You took a deep breath before beginning to move your hips, grinding against him and twisting your hips in a circle.

As you moved, your hands traveled up your body to your neck. From there, you slowly moved both hands down your body, stopping to massage your breasts. You played with your nipples as you watched Dean, his eyes glued to your motions.

You moaned softly, tossing your head back in pleasure. You loved seeing him struggling to keep control of himself beneath you. You smirked at the way he was white knuckling the headboard, obviously desperate to touch you, but afraid to disobey you.

"You're doing so good for me, baby," you murmured.

He whimpered softly as he watched you.

You moved your hands down your stomach, allowing one to slip between your legs to gently massage your clit. The other hand traveled back to your breasts to toy with them.

"Fuck, baby," Dean whispered. "Let me touch you."

"Not yet."

He groaned and squeezed the headboard tighter.

You smiled as you began to move up and down, gathering speed as you did so.

"Please," Dean begged. "Please, baby--I wanna touch you."

"I know you do, handsome, but you can't yet."

He whimpered softly and shifted his hips. You could feel the desperation seeping from him, but you knew the longer you held him off, the better it would feel for the both of you when he finally did touch you.

You continued your movements, but you placed both of your hands on his chest, touching and teasing him with your soft fingers.

He groaned in frustration and desperation. "Baby," he begged again. "Please."

You leaned forward and brushed your lips against his, pulling back when he tried to return the kiss. He chased after your lips, whimpering when you sat back up.

"How badly do you wanna touch me?"

"I would do anything, (Y/N)."

You smirked. "Do you need to touch me?"

He looked almost pained as he stared into your eyes. "I need it so badly, baby. Please, (Y/N/N). Please just let me touch you."

Your expression softened and you decided to take pity on him, so you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his ear. "Touch me, Dean."

In an instant, his hands left the headboard and grabbed you tightly, pulling you to him as he began to thrust up into you.

You gasped in surprise and pleasure.

He pressed his feet into the mattress and began to thrust up into you with force. He was holding you tightly to keep you in place, his teeth nipping at your neck and shoulder as he moved.

You were at a loss for words--the pleasure so overwhelming you couldn't breathe, let alone think.

"Fuck, I need to see you," he groaned as he flipped you onto your back and hovered over you. He grabbed your legs and lifted them up, putting one on either side of his head as he continued to thrust into you.

This new angle made your legs shake and you cried out, screaming his name repeatedly as he pumped into you.

"That's it baby, tell everyone who's fucking you--let them know who makes you feel good."

Your orgasm hit you so suddenly it shocked you. You screamed again as you came with force.

Dean didn't stop, he wanted more from you and he would give anything to see you come undone again.

"It's too much!" you whimpered.

"Do you want me to stop, baby?"

You didn't respond, barely able to speak.

"Come on, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't stop!" you gasped.

He grinned. "I won't, baby."

He slipped a hand between your legs and began to slowly circle your clit, applying just a little pressure in time with your moans.

The pleasure you were experiencing was so incredible--it was unlike anything you'd ever even imagined. The sounds coming from your mouth would have been embarrassing in any other context, but you couldn't be bothered to care.

As for Dean, he was loving the sounds you made and the way you looked beneath him. He was using every ounce of his self-control not to cum, but his control was waning.

Another orgasm hit you--once again shocking you both with its suddenness and intensity. You screamed his name as you came harshly.

Dean finally allowed your legs to drop and he leaned forward, caging you beneath him as he began to chase his own high. He was already close--and you could tell.

"Don't cum until I say," you whispered.

His eyes widened. "Baby--I don't think I can hold off--"

"Yes you can, Dean. Do it for me."

He groaned softly, but nodded his agreement. He kissed you passionately, which you returned in kind. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you could.

"I don't know how much longer I can wait," he murmured.

"You can do it, baby. You're doing so good for me."

He dug his fingers into the sheets on either side of your head and focused entirely on not cumming until you gave him permission.

You waited a few more moments before giving him the command he was desperate for, "Cum for me."

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he groaned loudly, spilling inside of you. His whole body was shaking as he continued to fill you up, gasps and moans slipping from his lips into your skin.

Finally, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he came down. You ran your fingers down his back in a gentle, affectionate manner. You loved the feeling of his large body laying on top of you, hard and warm against your soft skin.

"Never thought I'd feel like this," Dean mumbled into your neck.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't know sex could be this good. You're fucking incredible, baby."

You chuckled lightly. "Right back at you, handsome."

He groaned as he slowly rolled off of you. "I don't think I can move more than that."

You laughed. "I can't feel my legs, so I can't help you."

"God, I love hearing you say that."

"I love you," you said warmly.

He turned his head to look at you. "I love you too, baby."

You smiled at him and he surprised you by grabbing your hand and lifting it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss against it and then laid your hand and his on his chest.

"Who knew Dean Winchester could be so submissive," you teased.

"Only for you, sweetheart. Anyone else asks and it'd be a hard no. You're the only one that gets to see my sweet, sensitive side."

"Wait--you have a sweet, sensitive side?"

He glared at you and you laughed warmly.

"You're the sweetest, most sensitive man I know." You managed to roll onto your side so you could kiss him affectionately.

"Don't tell anyone," he whispered. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Don't worry, Winchester. Your secret's safe with me."

He smiled warmly and tugged you close to him. "Would you judge me if I just passed out?"

You chuckled softly. "As long as you don't mind me passing out too."

"So what you're saying is, you wanna sleep with me?"

You laughed. "I would love to sleep with you, Dean."

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. "How'd I get to be so lucky?"

"Something about a witch with truth serum powers."

He chuckled. "Who knew I'd be thankful for witchy mojo?"

You smiled and curled up into his side, sighing contentedly. "Goodnight, Dean," you whispered.

"Goodnight, beautiful. I love you."

"Love you too," you mumbled, already drifting off to a peaceful sleep in the arm's of the only man you've ever truly loved.

#dean Winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester x reader smut #supernatural smut

852 notes · View notes

bridenore · 29 days

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HD Party Games fic recs

Here are a few drarry fic recs in which party games play an important part. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Back to You by @aibidil & daisymondays [8k]

The eighth years make Harry and Malfoy go head to head and back to back in a question-and-answer drinking game. The worst that can happen is they end up drunk, right?

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [39k]

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms. It’s a veritable wizarding utopia and life is predictable for the first time in years. Which is, of course, when everything blows apart as the result of a drunken dare and Malfoy’s life is ruined beyond his capacity to repair it. Ever. In a million years.

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks [7k]

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Erase the Shame by FleetofShippyShips [6k]

An Inter-House unity party is the last thing Draco wants to go to. It's not long into a game of Truth or Dare when he is reminded why. But maybe his dare is worth it after all.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Games Night by @agentmoppet [6k]

Harry has no idea why Hermione decided that an inter-house Games Night would be a good idea, but he’s here now, and he intends to beat Malfoy, no matter what game he chooses. But, who would have thought muggle games could be full of so much... tension?

How to Handle an Enemy by who_la_hoop [7k]

Everyone knows that it’s no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate… Turnbout Is Fair Play by who_la_hoop [10k] After a – cough – revealing game of truth or dare instigated by his fellow Slytherins, Draco Malfoy finds himself in possession of a). the interesting knowledge that a certain Gryffindor horror may not be as immune to his personal charms as hitherto suspected and b). the password to the Gryffindor Tower. But Draco makes a fundamental error when he decides to make use of these facts.

Love, Harry by Zzzara [26k]

Harry Potter keeps a huge secret: that scary thing he can’t tell anyone about. Until a mysterious penfriend changes his life, because he keeps a secret, too.

Never Have I Ever Thought That You Might Want Me, Too by @drarrymyheart [8k]

“When it’s his turn, Ron gives Harry an ominous look. “Never have I ever wanted to kiss any of the boys in this room.” Harry freezes. Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Hannah, Pansy, and even Blaise are all immediately lifting their drinks. Malfoy moves to pick his up as well and Harry tracks the movement as if watching in slow-motion…The ridge of Malfoy’s bottle of cider pushes against his lower lip as he takes a sip. Harry nearly groans. Steeling himself, Harry drinks.” Harry and the crew take a ski trip. Harry can’t seem to keep his eyes and thoughts off a certain blonde.

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore [41k]

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.

A Perfectly Valid Dare by kitty_fic [5k]

“It’s a perfectly valid dare,” Pansy says, and somehow she looks like she actually believes what she says. “I am not doing that,” Draco insists. He really has no idea when daring someone to wank in Harry Potter’s bed became a perfectly valid dare?

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k]

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Silk Scarves and Enchanted Handcuffs by TommyLane [28k]

It was only supposed to be for seven minutes and then the blindfold would come off and he'd be free from the dark cupboard and his mystery partner - only Harry was no longer sure he wanted it to end.

Starts With a Spin by Maxine [119k]

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

Truths, Dares, and Love Affairs by @ronbinary [17k]

NEWTs are approaching, Mind Healing is mandatory, and something is wrong with the castle. And then, there’s Potter.

When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara [31k]

When a hero defeats a villain, there’s supposed to be a happily-ever-after… but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there’s more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands [146k]

It’s the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort’s soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now? His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum. As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too. Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months

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Skin | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: mentions of assault/battery, canon violence, canon gore (take care of urselves bbies)

Word Count: 5826

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean didn’t talk about Toledo. You were back to not talking about much of anything. Your fights had become much less frequent, and when you did fight, it was more playful than malicious. For that, you were grateful. You felt incredibly conflicted about the fact that he was beginning to grow on you.

‘Like a wart,’ you thought. ‘Or a blister, maybe.’

Whatever he was, he was beginning to chip through your hard exterior. You also found out he hadn’t told Sam what you’d told him about your family which you were surprised by.

The three of you spent more time on the road than you did anywhere else. When you used to drive cross-country by yourself, you felt yourself beginning to go crazy a few hours into the drive. As much as you loved your alone time, you also craved the company of others. Now that you had it, you weren’t sure how you were going to leave these guys once you found John.

Dean turned in his seat to face Sam. “Alright, I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight.”

He didn’t respond.

“Sam wears women’s underwear.”

“I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy,” he finally answered.

“Busy doin’ what?” you placed your head on his shoulder over the top of the seat.

“Reading e-mails.”

Dean had gotten out of the car and began pumping gas. “E-mails from who?”

“From my friends at Stanford.” Sam still seemed disinterested in conversation.

“You’re kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?” Dean asked.

“Why not?” He still hadn’t turned his attention from his phone.

“Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?”

“I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.”

“And I couldn’t make my way into that lie?” you asked.

“What do I tell ‘em, (Y/N/N)? That we picked up some chick in California and took her on the road with us?” he chuckled. “And I don’t lie to them. I just don’t tell ‘em… everything.”

“Yeah, that’s called lying,” you retorted. “I get it, though, the truth is much worse.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?”

His older brother shrugged.

“You’re serious?” Sam wasn’t really asking.

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period,” Dean responded.

“How many friends do I have, Sam?” you asked him.

“Me.”

“Exactly,” you giggled.

“You two are kind of anti-social, you know that?” He returned to scrolling through his emails.

“Eh, whatever.” You flopped back on the bench seat.

“God….” Sam trailed off.

“What?” you and Dean asked.

“In this e-mail from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine.”

“Is she hot?”

You rolled your eyes. “Dean—”

Sam ignored the two of you. “I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He’s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.”

“Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with?” his brother questioned.

“No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.”

“Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.”

“They’re in St. Louis. We’re goin’.”

“Look, sorry ‘bout your buddy, okay?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “But this does not sound like our kind of problem.”

Sam wasn’t having it. “It is our problem. They’re my friends.”

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam.” Dean and Sam got into what you can only describe as a staring contest before Dean scoffed; seemingly admitting defeat. Next thing you knew, you were headed to St. Louis.

***

The massive door on the undoubtedly expensive house you’d arrived at opened to reveal a beautiful blonde girl.

‘Damn all these pretty blonde bitches we keep running into,’ you thought.

“Oh my God, Sam!” she smiled, throwing her arms around her friend.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky,” Sam jested.

“You know what you can do with that little Becky crap.”

“I got your e-mail.” His tone had become somber.

“I didn’t think that you would come here,” she answered earnestly.

Dean shoved in front of Sam. “Dean. Older brother.”

‘He’s making his fucking voice deeper again.’

She shook his hand. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she smiled back.

“We’re here to help. Whatever we can do.” You peeked out from behind Sam. “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Nice to meet you!” You were only mildly annoyed by how wonderful her disposition was. “Come in.”

“Nice place,” Dean commented, taking in his grandiose surroundings.

“It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zack’s free,” Becky explained.

“Where are your folks?” Sam asked.

“They live in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial.”

‘Of course, they fucking do.’

“Do you guys want a beer or something?” she asked politely.

Dean obviously did, but his brother stopped him. “No, thanks. So, tell us what happened.”

“Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing.” Becky began to cry.

‘She’s even pretty when she cries.’

“So, he called 911, and the police— they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight,” she relayed.

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.”

“We could,” Dean agreed, but you could tell he still wasn’t picking up where Sam was going with this.

“Why? I mean, what could you do?” the blonde asked.

“Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop.” Sam patted his brother’s shoulder.

“Detective, actually,” Dean laughed.

“Really? Where?”

“Bisbee, Arizona. But I’m off-duty now.”

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just— I don’t know,” she said.

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent,” Sam replied.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys.”

“Oh, yeah, man, you’re a real straight shooter with your friends,” Dean mocked after Becky had walked down the hall.

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help,” Sam responded.

“I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.”

“Two places at once? We’ve looked into less.”

Dean said nothing, clearly defeated.

***

“You’re sure this is okay?” Rebecca asked Dean as the four of you walked into Zack's house.

Dean clearly was having fun with the whole “cop” thing. “Yeah. I am an officer of the law.”

You hated how smug he could be. Rebecca came inside with you and informed you that Emily had let her attacker in.

She then informed you about a recent incident that struck you as odd. “Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes— Zack’s clothes. The police— they don’t think it’s anything. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.” In the midst of her story, you could hear a dog barking angrily across the street. Dean peered out of the window, and Becca came up behind him. “You know, that used to be the sweetest dog.”

“What happened?” you asked her.

“He just changed.”

Dean turned over his shoulder to her. “Do you remember when he changed?”

“I guess around the time of the murder,” she shrugged.

You found Sam staring at a picture of himself, another college-aged boy you assumed was Zack, and Rebecca that was framed in the hallway.

Dean came up behind you soon after. “So, the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zack’s girlfriend was killed.”

“Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal,” Sam said.

“Yeah, maybe Fido saw somethin’.”

“So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?”

“Yeah, prob—” you started, only to be cut off by Dean.

“No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure.”

You shot him a look. “The evidence is staring you in the face, and you still can’t admit you’re wrong.”

He shot a look back at you that said, ‘Don’t try me.’

Before you could push each other’s buttons any further, Rebecca came over to you, and Dean turned his attention to her. “So, the tape. The security footage— you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

How Becky was buying into Dean’s lie, you had no idea. He was really laying it on thick.

“I’ve already got it. I didn’t wanna say something in front of the cop,” she giggled. “I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

The three of you went back to Becky’s parents’ home to review the security footage. It was of Zack entering his house, but a strange glint on the film caught your eye.

“22:04,” Dean noted the time stamp, “that’s just after ten. You said time of death was about 10:30.”

“Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with,” Becky added.

“Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?” Sam asked.

“Oh, sure,” she replied politely, turning to go to the kitchen.

“Maybe some sandwiches, too?” He was putting on the puppy dog eyes just a bit to convince her.

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” she snarked.

“I wish,” Dean mumbled.

“Can you focus, please?” you asked him.

“What are you, my mother?” Your banter was no longer filled with malice, just a hint of aggravation.

“No, but frankly, the thought of you trying to bang someone makes me want to throw up in my mouth. I’d prefer not to watch it happen,” you replied playfully. “But look.” You rewound the tape an started it over. You caught the glint again, paused it, and realized Zack’s eyes were silver. “There!”

“Well, maybe it’s just a camera flare,” Dean shrugged.

“Does that look like any camera flare you’ve ever seen?” you asked rhetorically.

He just looked away, defeated.

“You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul,” Sam chimed in. “Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack’s, something that looks like him but isn’t him.”

“Like a Doppelganger?” Your brow knitted together, mind trying to wrap around what you were dealing with.

“Yeah. It’d sure explain how he was in two places at once,” Sam said.

Despite the luxurious villa Sam’s friend called home, the three of you didn’t want to intrude on her privacy; opting for yet another shitty motel. Something about this case was bugging you, though, and you tossed and turned all night thinking about it. And then, it hit you.

You pulled on your jacket and boots and rushed over to the boys’ room. A sleepy Dean answered the door. You hated to admit it, but he and his fluffy, mussed up hair were adorable when he’d just woken up.

“Morning, sunshine,” you grinned.

He scratched his head. “(Y/N), what the fu—”

“We have to get to Zack’s house. I just thought of something. “

Sam appeared behind Dean, already dressed. “Whatcha got?”

Dean stepped back from the door, letting you into the room.

“We saw ‘Zack’ go in, but never saw the killer leave,” you explained. “But of course, we didn’t. Why would the cops be looking for that when they nabbed Zack in his house with his dead girlfriend?”

Sam was with you, nodding his head.

“Did you have to realize that before five in the morning?” Dean yawned, pulling a pair of pants on.

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly. “Couldn’t sleep. But I figured that out, so that’s all that matters.”

Dean shook his head and yawned again. “Sam, you’re driving. I might crash my baby if I drive right now.”

***

“He must’ve gone out the back door,” Sam said. You and the brothers were walking toward Zack’s house. “So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue.”

“I still don’t know what we’re doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning,” Dean grumbled.

“C’mon,” you groaned, dragging his arm to follow Sam around the back of Zack’s house. Sure enough, there was a dried, dark red substance smeared on a nearby telephone pole.

“Blood. Somebody came this way,” Sam noted.

“Yeah, but the trail ends,” Dean added from a few paces ahead. “I don’t see anything over here.”

Just as he finished speaking, an ambulance drove past the house with its sirens wailing. You and Sam looked at each other before hurrying back to Dean’s car. Dean followed the ambulance to its destination where a man was handcuffed and being shoved into the back of a police car.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“He tried to kill his wife,” she responded with a hand to her chest. “Tied her up and beat her.”

“Really?” you asked.

“I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.” She shook her head sorrowfully and watched as the police car drove away.

The three of you hung around the scene for a while until it had been completely cleared out. You regrouped while you snooped around.

“Remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem?” Dean asked as he approached you and Sam.

“Yeah,” his brother answered.

“Definitely our kind of problem.”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Mark it in the calendar, Dean Winchester admitted he was wrong!”

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he retorted.

“What’d you find out?” Sam asked.

“Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex’s story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked,” Dean explained.

“So, he was in two places at once, too.”

“Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house; police think he’s a nutjob.”

You paused for a moment, thinking. “You think it could be a shapeshifter?”

“Something that can make itself look like anyone? Sure,” Sam responded. “Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men.”

“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves,” Dean added. “We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other. I’m guessin’ we’ve got a shapeshifter prowlin’ the neighborhood.”

“Let me ask you this— in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” the younger brother asked.

“Not that I know of.” You shook your head. “But someone ran out the back of his house and headed this way. And then… the trail just… ends. Just like at your friend’s house.” You gestured toward Sam.

“Well, there’s another way to go.” You followed Dean’s gaze down to a manhole.

“Ew, gross.” Your face scrunched up in disgust as Sam started to move the manhole cover.

The three of you quickly climbed down so as to not be seen.

“I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too,” Sam said as the three of you made your way down the tunnel. “The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.”

You were leading the group, and stopped suddenly when you noticed a pile of blood and skin on the ground. “Blegh, look!”

“Is this from his victims?” Sam looked equally as disgusted.

Dean pulled out his pocket knife and lifted a piece of the skin off the ground. “You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape, maybe it sheds.”

“That is sick,” you affirmed.

He dropped the skin back to the ground and turned to you to wipe his knife off on your jacket.

“Ew, dude!” you shoved his arm. “What the fuck?”

He just laughed in response.

You and the boys headed back up to the car to load up with some weapons.

“Well, one thing I learned from Dad—” Dean began, riffling through the weapons cavity, “—is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it.”

“Silver bullet to the heart,” you chimed in.

He nodded and handed you a case of the bullets.

Sam’s cell phone rang. “This is Sam… We’re near Zack’s, we’re just checkin’ some things out… What are you talkin’ about?”

He seemed caught off-guard. You thought he was talking to Rebecca, but had no idea why she’d be upset with you. You eyed Dean who shrugged.

“Why would you do that?... Bec— We’re tryin’ to help… Bec, I’m sorry, but—” And then he clapped his phone shut, looking disappointed.

Dean found it an appropriate moment to be a bit of a dick. “I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. It’s just—it’d be easier if—”

“If I was like you guys,” he replied quietly.

“Sam, I’m not trying to be heartless, but Dean’s kinda right.” Both brothers seemed surprised you were agreeing with Dean for once. “We’re not like other people.”

“But I’ll tell you one thing.” Dean’s lighthearted tone was back. “This whole gig— it ain’t without perks.” He held out a gun to Sam, whose face was still crestfallen.

You followed Sam and Dean back down the manhole, gun loaded with silver bullets. You carried the case of bullets Dean handed to you in your inner jacket pocket; just in case. After a few minutes of trudging through toxic sludge with baited breath, you noticed another pile of blood and skin on a pipe next to Sam’s head. “I think we’re close to its lair,” you told them.

“Why do you say that?” Sam asked.

“Because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face,” you snickered.

“Oh, God!” His face scrunched up in disgust.

There was another pile of clothing and rotting skin a few paces ahead of you.

“Looks like it’s lived here for a while,” you heard Dean say from behind you.

You turned to face him as you spoke. “Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away— Fuck, Dean!” you cried, seeing the shapeshifter in the form of its last victim behind him.

Dean wheeled around, only to be knocked to the ground by the smirking creature. You and Sam rushed to his side as the creature sped off.

“Get the son of a bitch!” Dean commanded.

The three of you sped down the tunnel and followed him out of the manhole. You couldn’t see where exactly he ended up, and you decided to split up.

Under the cover of night, you headed down streets and alleyways with your gun hidden inside your jacket. You came to a stop at a dead end and wheeled around at the sound of footsteps behind you. The shapeshifter, still in the form of the businessman, knocked you out cold before you were even able to raise your gun at him.

***

The next time you came to, you felt itchy bits of rope binding your hands, feet, and neck to a cold, metal post behind you. As your vision began to clear, you could see you were in some kind of a dark, dingy room. It seemed like a house, but you weren’t entirely convinced. You heard what sounded like the older brother’s voice coming from behind you.

“Dean?” you called.

“(Y/N), it’s not—” Sam shouted, but cut himself off with a groan.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he smirked, leaning down to your eye level. He put a hand next to your head on the post.

You turned your face away from him, straining against the rope. He even smelled like Dean.

“You are one fucking trainwreck,” he said, searching your face.

You eyed him curiously. He just laughed coldly in response. “The more I learn about you, the more fucked up you get.”

“What do you mean ‘learn’?”

As if on cue, the shapeshifter held a hand to his temple, grunting in pain. After a moment had passed, he spoke again. “You made a big mistake telling him— I mean, me— about what you did to your family. If I wasn’t ready to get rid of you before, I sure as hell am now. I hope you’re tellin’ the truth about leaving the second we find Dad, ‘cause I don’t know how much longer I can put up with you. God, from your voice to your personality, you aggravate the livin’ crap outta me.” The shapeshifter leaned back down in front of your face, the two of you only inches away from one another.

“You’re a burden, (Y/N). You’re exhausting to be around. I constantly have to keep my guard up around you. I can’t trust you, not after what you told me in Toledo. How do I know you won’t turn on me and Sammy?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you kept them at bay. You instead reared back as much as you could and spat in his face. You had taken him by surprise, but his hand was around your throat in an instant. His lips were inches away from your ear and he squeezed your neck just tight enough to where you were beginning to see stars. “You fucking bitch. Y’know, take your voice and personality away, Dean would definitely wanna fuck you. He thought you were hot the first time he met you. Then he actually got to know you, and, eh, things changed. But I’m sure he’d have tons of fun with Sam’s little friend Becky.” A wicked grin spread across his face. “I think I’ll go pay her a visit.”

He released your throat and you sputtered and coughed when he did. He covered you up with a tarp moments later. You felt pathetic, but you let your tears flow freely now that he was gone, wiggling around to get the tarp off your head.

“(Y/N), are you back there?” Dean called from somewhere you couldn’t see.

You knew he hadn’t said those hurtful things to you, but it was still difficult to hear his voice. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” Your voice was still shaky from crying. “He went to Rebecca’s, lookin’ like you.”

“Well, he’s not stupid. He picked the handsome one,” Dean gibed at his brother.

You admired his ability to keep his snarky attitude and stupid jokes despite his circumstances. His confidence bewildered you at times.

You pulled at the ropes binding your hands, hissing when you felt the rope creating angry brush burns on your wrists.

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you,” you heard Sam tell Dean.

“What do you mean?” the older brother asked.

“Yeah, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories,” you told him.

“You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?”

You giggled. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us,” Sam added.

“Yeah, he probably needs to keep us alive. Some kind of psychic connection— ah,” you yelped at the feeling of the rope aggravating your wrists again. The shifter had bound you unbelievably tightly.

“(Y/N), stop, I’m coming to help you,” Dean instructed.

“I’m a big girl,” you replied sassily. “I can do it.”

Dean had made his way over to you. “Do you have to fight me on everything?” He untied your hands with ease and began working on your neck.

“Yes, but thank you,” you told him. You still couldn’t look him in the eyes after what the shifter had told you. You were doing your best to keep your exterior steely. You couldn’t deny, though, that his tight-fitting gray t-shirt over rippling muscle and the way he’d helped you were starting to break down your walls a little.

“Come on, we gotta go,” you heard Sam order from behind you. “He’s probably at Rebecca’s already.”

Dean pushed a window out of the building you were kept in and the three of you climbed out.

Sam started down the street. “Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean stopped him. “You’re gonna put an APB out on me.”

His brother shrugged. “Sorry.”

“This way.” Dean led the three of you down the street. You ran shielded by the darkness until you reached a store window. There was a display wall of televisions in it, and the news was on. Conveniently, Dean was the breaking news.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End—” the reporter stated, “—where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home.”

Of course, Dean’s attitude was unwavering. “Man! That’s not even a good picture.”

You looked around nervously.

“It’s good enough,” Sam said.

“Man!” Dean grumbled, following Sam down the street to an alleyway.

“They said attempted murder,” you pointed out. “At least we know—”

“I didn’t kill her.”

You nodded.

“We’ll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she’s all right,” Sam said, looking over his shoulder.

“Alright, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him.”

‘He’s still as arrogant as ever.’

“We have no weapons, though. No silver bullets,” you countered.

“Sweetheart, the guy’s walkin’ around with my face, okay, it’s a little personal, I wanna find him.” He turned to face you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I get it. We need guns, though.”

“The car?” Sam threw in.

“I’m bettin’ he drove over to Rebecca’s.” Dean’s face began to heat up. You knew he was thinking about his precious Impala.

“The news said he fled on foot. I bet it’s still parked there.”

“The thought of him drivin’ my car—” he whined.

You shook your head. “Come on.”

“It’s killin’ me,” Dean whined again.

“Let it go,” you and Sam commanded over your shoulders.

The three of you rounded the corner along a tall hedge only to be greeted by the sight of the car.

“Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight.” Dean’s joy was almost contagious.

His stupor was broken by a police car appearing down Rebecca’s street and blocking the end of the road.

“Fuck.” You spun around the way you came, but another cop car appeared back down that street, too.

“This way, this way,” Dean began leading you over to a fence and easily climbed atop it.

“You guys go. I’ll hold ‘em off,” Sam told you.

“What are you talking about? They’ll catch you.” Dean turned into a seated position on top the fence.

“Look, they can’t hold me. Just go, keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca’s,” Sam quickly spoke.

You and Dean hopped over multiple fences, fatiguing your limbs quickly. Several blocks from where you and the boys had run into the cops, the two of you stopped to catch your breath. You sat down on a street corner and tucked your knees into your chest.

Dean sat beside you. “What did he say to you?”

You turned to him. “Huh?”

“The shifter. What’d he say to you?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, it’s fine—”

“(Y/N), you haven’t looked at me once since we left that thing’s hideout. Tell me what he said.”

“Why can’t you drop it?” you spat, looking down at your boots.

“Because,” he protested. “I gave you a chance to explain in Toledo. At the very least, you owe me that.”

You sighed. “He said you think I’m annoying. And, um, a burden. He said you’re trying to find your dad so quick to get rid of me. And that you can’t trust me because of what I did to my family.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “Anything else?”

“He said everything about me aggravates you and that I exhaust you.”

He nodded. “Do you really believe that?” You could feel his gaze burning holes into the side of your face.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “You haven’t exactly proven otherwise to me.” You looked up at him for the first time in hours.

He seemed surprised by that answer.

“Don’t look at me like that. Aside from Toledo and a few seconds on that plane, all we’ve ever done is fight,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” A few moments of silence passed before he spoke again. “But I don’t think those things about you. Honest.”

“I feel like I’m pulling teeth here, Dean,” you remarked. “What do you think of me?”

“I mean, you can be annoying.”

You scoffed, but a smile tugged at your lips.

“And you’re way too stubborn.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And so are you.”

“And you’re too smart for your own good.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“Would you let me finish?” he deadpanned.

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You just… you intimidate me a little, honestly.” Now Dean was the one who couldn’t look at you.

You were shocked. “Really? Why?”

“Dammit, (Y/N), I’m not good at this,” he sighed. “I know you heard what I said to Haley about that being the most honest I’ve ever been with a woman.”

You giggled at the memory.

“This tops that by far,” he admitted.

You nodded. You’d have this conversation another time. You rose to your feet, and he followed suit.

“Can we start over?” you asked him.

He eyed you curiously.

“As… acquaintances, I mean,” you explained. “We’re no closer to finding your dad than we were the day I met you, so I imagine I’ll be around for a little while longer. I’d rather us not fight the whole time. It’s getting exhausting, if I’m being honest.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess we can do that.”

“Okay, then.” You cleared your throat and stuck out your hand. “Hi. I’m (Y/N).”

Dean shook his head at your antics despite the smile pulling on his lips. “Dean.” This time, he actually shook your hand.

***

Later that morning, you and Dean had returned to the car for weapons. Thankfully, Dean still had some silver bullets left in the trunk. With guns in hand, the two of you headed back to the sewers. A few minutes into your walk, you came across a rancid pile of flesh, teeth, and fingernails.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Your face contorted in disgust. You looked up when you heard a rustling noise a little down the tunnel. You could see a dim glow from the place you’d heard the rustling. You tightened your grip on your gun and let Dean lead the way into the chamber. He nodded his head in the direction of the left side of a figure covered in a tarp at the back end of the chamber, indicating for you to go that way. You followed his instruction and crept up on the figure with him. He pulled the sheet away from the figure, only to reveal Rebecca.

“What happened?” you asked her. Her hands and feet were bound, her mouth was gagged, her hair was a mess, and her skin was littered with bruising and cuts.

She was still shaking and crying as she spoke. “I was walking home, and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don’t know, how is that even possible?”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay,” Dean told her.

The two of you untied her and made sure she was able to walk before guiding her out of the sewers.

“We’ve gotta hurry,” Dean said. “Sam went to see you.”

When you got to Rebecca’s house, all you could hear was the grunting, furniture breaking, skin hitting skin, and bones cracking coming from the living room. And then, choking. You had no doubt it was Sam.

Dean seemed to pick up on that as well. He hurried into the den, shouting, “Hey!”

The shifter spotted Dean and got off of Sam. Dean shot twice, and with that, the shifter was dead.

You rushed over to Sam and cradled his head in your lap. “Are you okay?” you asked him.

He smiled painfully at you. “Peachy.”

You giggled at him. You looked up at Dean standing over… Dean… and watched as he ripped his necklace off the shifter.

You watched Rebecca say goodbye to Sam, and she waved at you and Dean who stood by the Impala. She turned to go back inside her house.

Sam approached the two of you.

“So, what about your friend, Zack?” Dean asked his brother.

“Cops are blamin’ this Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder,” Sam jested. “They found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon.”

You giggled. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Get in the car, (Y/N),” he chastised you. For the first time since you met him, you knew he wasn’t trying to tear you down. It was refreshing to have an amicable relationship with him.

As Dean tore down the road, he turned to his brother. “Sorry, man.”

“About what?”

“I really wish things could be different, you know?” the older brother said earnestly. “I wish you could just be… Joe College.”

“No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” Sam admitted.

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak,” Dean quipped.

You loved earnest moments between the two brothers. It made you feel normal; in a weird way.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam said dryly.

“Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way.”

“Yeah, I know you are.” Sam’s voice softened.

“You know, I gotta say. I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it.”

You felt one of Dean’s stupid jokes coming on. “Oh, here we go.”

He eyed you in the rearview mirror.

“Miss what?” Sam asked.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?” Dean smirked.

You shook your head. “And there it is.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle

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

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holylulusworld · 9 months

Text

Very tight places - Kinktober 3

Summary: You're stuck with a soulless Sam again.

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Square 8 filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Amnesia

Square 6 filled for @samwinchesterbingo: Dirty Talk

Warnings: soulless!Sam being his asshole self, cheating (kinda), smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of anal sex, creampie, claustrophilia, blasphemie

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Claustrophilia

Words:

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Catch up here: Cramped (1) & Tight places (2)

Six months later you are still hunting with Dean and Sam. You didn’t want to leave the elder Winchester alone with his soulless brother.

Who are you trying to kid? The ugly and embarrassing truth is, that you can’t stay away from Sam for too long.

He’s intoxicating. You’re high on him, and the way he fucks you. If you had an ounce of dignity left, you’d tell the bastard to fuck off. But you are too far gone to care.

Most nights, you let him do unspeakable things to you. Dean stumbled in on you and his brother, calling you sick more than once. He wrinkles his nose anytime Sam gropes you in front of his brother.

Sam has no filter. In any way. When it comes to sex, he doesn’t care if you are in the middle of a case, at a hospital, or buying groceries. Sam wants you, and he gets you.

Anytime. Anywhere.

“Sam, what are we doing here, dressed in the cheapest costumes we could find,” you grumble as Sam decides you must play nun and priest to solve your latest case.

Dean is out and about to find Death. Not to die this time, but to convince Death himself to help him get Sam’s soul back.

Sam is not amused. He wants to stay like this. New and improved. Deadly, focused, and with a sexual appetite making even Dean blush.

“I look ridiculous. They will not believe I’m a nun.” Glancing around the almost empty church you sigh. At least there are not many people around to witness your poor performance.

“Why?” Sam resists the urge to grope your ass. Seeing you in your nun costume got him rock-hard. If not for the case he wants to solve, he’d have you bent over the altar already. “We look just the same as the priest I knocked out to get his clothes.”

“You did what?” you stop in your tracks to gape at Sam. “Please tell me you didn’t knock a priest out, Samuel Winchester. I don’t want to go to hell only because you have no impulse control.”

Sam smirks darkly. “You are so cute when mad,” he dips his head to whisper, “not so cute while you writhe on my fat cock. You’re a whore, not a saint. I know how you like it. Dirty and rough.”

“Sam, can you for once not think about your dick?” You growl. “We still need to find the monster killing the people at the church. Sadly, the only witness still suffers from amnesia.”

“That’s where you come in,” Sam purrs. “I didn’t want you to wear this iconic tunic only for fun. You are the one taking Sister Margaret’s place. You’ll fit in just fine.”

“I don’t want to play the next victim for the monster. Which by the way, you still didn’t identify, Sam. Maybe you shouldn’t have spent the last night at the bar with that blonde,” you snap at the hunter. You don’t give a shit if your blow your cover. Sam won’t get away with treating you like a random bitch he can fuck and leave afterward.

“Y/N, be honest with me,” he chuckles at your angry expression, “are you jealous because you are in love with me?“

“You wish,” you walk away, too angry to be around Sam today. Are you jealous? Of course, you are. Sam and you spent the last months together. Most of the time in the sheets. But last night, he told you to leave and didn’t return until early in the morning.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Sam mocks you. “I know you love me. You draw hearts and imagine walking down the aisle while I wait for you to give you the ring.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you turn back around to snap at Sam. “I can’t wait for Dean to get your soul back. The moment you have it back, I’m gone. Don’t believe I stuck around for you and your limp dick. I did it for Dean because he’s a good man. Always was.”

“You want my brother?” His features darken, and you can see the change in Sam’s eyes. You take a step back. You know the look in his eyes. It’s the same one you see when he’s about to attack a monster. “Well, too bad. He can’t have you.”

“He can have me if he wants me.” It’s your turn to pay Sam back for all the times you asked yourself if he’s with some other girl. “Just like you had that pretty little thing last night.”

Sam snorts. “She was boring and wanted to go on a date first.” He casually says. As if this excuses his behavior, and how he treated you last night. “Come. I show you something nice.”

“Sam, I’m not in the mood for one of your games. Let’s just solve this case and we can go our separate ways. I stuck around far longer than I intended to.” You huff as Sam once again, ignores your protests. He grabs you by your arm and drags you toward the confession booth.

“Sam! What are you doing?”

“Shush now, I saw someone,” he pushes you inside the booth and closes the door behind him. You gulp. You’re stuck in a tight place with Sam again. “Do you have your gun?”

“What kind of question is that Winchester? I’m not an idiot!”

“Good. Stay in here and wait for me,” he turns around to look at you. Something flashes in his eyes before he turns around to leave the booth. Not without telling you to lock it, though…

You’re gnawing at your nails. Sam left you at the confession booth half an hour ago, and now you don’t know if you left the booth to help him or not.

You press your ear to the door, listening to your breathing. There is not a sound, and you wonder if Sam messed with you and just left the church.

“Open the door,” Sam knocks at the door, “now.”

“Fuck, Winchester,” you curse, but unlock the door to drag Sam inside. He closes it behind him once again and releases an annoyed huff as you check him for injuries.

“You can't wait to put your hands on me again, huh?” Sam turns around to look you up and down. “You know,” he licks his lips. His large hands shoot toward your face to cradle it for a moment, “I think you should confess your sins to me, my dear.”

“I said I’m not in the mood for one of your games,” you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “Why did you leave me in here, all alone? Did you find the monster?”

“I fucked the nuns and gave them a good spanking,” Sam deadpans. “What do you think I did? I kept you safe. The monster wasn’t here. We will find them, though.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“And you are still my whore. My brother can’t have you,” he moves his hand to your throat. “Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish I would,” he chuckles as you claw at the hand holding your throat in a tight grip. “OR maybe I should remind you of your worth. Turn around, lift your tunic, sister. I want to see your cunt.”

“No.”

“Do it or I swear I’ll drag you out of here and fuck you on the altar like I wanted to,” he warns. You know Sam is not joking. If you don’t do as he says, he’ll drag you out and have his way with you on the altar.

He drops his hand from your throat, smirking as you slowly turn around. You shove the black tunic up your body to reveal your ass to him.

“I hate you so much.”

“No panties,” Sam moves his hand between your legs to find you dripping for him. “you’re such a whore for me. I can’t believe I found someone like you.”

You should knee his balls and just leave him there. Instead, you press your hands against the wooden wall and brace yourself for Sam’s massive cock. He’s not a fan of foreplay when he’s like that.

“My whore.” He runs his large hand over your back, down to your ass. “Look at you, ready to have my cock. I think I’ll go for your ass today.”

You suck in a breath. It’s always a struggle to take him up your ass. Especially when he’s impatient.

“Here?”

“Aw, my little cockslut loves having me up her ass, huh?” His pants drop to the ground before you can even choke out a moan. Sam is on you in a blink. One hand moves between your legs to slap your pussy. “Answer me!”

“YES!”

“Louder!”

“I love your cock up my ass,” he slaps your pussylips again, and again until your tender flesh throbs and you soak his hand. “I want to feel it all the time.”

“Beg me,” he slings his arm around your throat. “Y/N, I’m not asking,” Sam growls in your ear. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please give me your cock, Father Winchester,” he bends your body to his will and rams himself inside of your leaking cunt.

“Fuck,” Sam is not gentle. All he gives you is his free hand between your legs to toy with your clit. He snaps his hips into your ass, making you cry out with every deep thrust. “I love it when cry a little.”

“Ass-hole,” you press your hands hard against the wooden wall. “I hate you so much.”

Sam doesn’t care about your words, or that you soak his cock only a few thrusts later. He batters your cunt, hoping to force another orgasm out of you to make you see that only he can fulfill your desires.

“You make the sweetest noises when I fuck you,” he nips at your earlobe, teeth sinking in your flesh to tug at it. You moan and push back onto him. Sam knows exactly which buttons he must push to get what he wants. “I’m going to fill this cunt up again.”

You hiss his name when your body sizes up. You tremble in his arms and close your eyes as your orgasm washes over you. When he fucks you like this, from behind you can pretend it’s the real Sam, not the broken version of the hunter.

“You’re such a good slut for me, Y/N. I’ll never let you go,” his words a more threat than a promise. His hips begin to stutter. “Open that pussy for me, take my cum…”

You don’t know how you made it out of the church without getting caught. Sam’s cum ran down your thighs as he dragged you out of the place you stained with your sins.

Back at the motel, you try to make him talk to you. Sam sits across you, just staring at you.

“Sam, we still need to find the monster.” You sigh as he ignores you. “SAM! The monster.”

“It was a hoax,” he shrugs and drops his eyes to your legs. “I wanted to fuck you at a church in a confession booth.”

“There is no monster?” Your jaw drops. “You drove to the middle of nowhere, and forced me to wear a nun costume only for sex.”

“Roleplay, kitten. It’s essential to keep my dick hard.” He watches you squirm on the bed. “Be good and spread your legs. Let me see your tainted cunt.”

“Sam…can you just not be so crass all the time?”

“I said,” he gets up from his seat to stand in front of your bed, “spread your legs and show me your well-fucked and cum stained cunt.”

“Fine,” you fall back onto the bed and spread your legs. “Satisfied.”

“Hmm…I don’t know,” he unbuckles his belt with one hand and shoves his pants down his legs. “I think you need more cum in your pussy…”

“Please tell me you got him out,” Dean looks at Death.

“I got his soul, and we should hurry but,” Death looks Dean straight in the eyes, “I must warn you. This soul got ripped apart, and there is not much left of the brother you knew…

#sam winchester #anyfandomgoesbingo #samwinchesterbingo #soulless sam #sam winchester smut #soulless!sam #smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

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littledovesnow · 6 months

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young!coryo x fem!reader fluff

a/n: fluff fluff fluff i love fluff !!!!!! hoep u little snakes like it too <3

-----

Staring at the clock on the wall, you wanted nothing more than to be back in your bed, tea in your hand.

You felt the headache start not long after you woke this morning but thought nothing of it as you gathered your Academy uniform, putting the blame on the new perfume your younger sister was trying.

A soft nudge on your right drew your attention away from the clock, your boyfriend looking over at you curiously.

“Hm?”

“Are you feeling alright? You’re usually one of the few who willingly engages in this dreadful class.”

Coriolanus gestured to the literature class going on around you two, the professor going on about something or another.

Shrugging, you twirled the pen in your hand. “I’m fine, Coryo. Just a little tired.”

Narrowing his eyes, Coriolanus didn’t believe you one bit, but he also knew you well enough to realize that you weren’t going to budge.

“Grandma’am and Tigris went out for the day, you can come rest at my place after classes.” He was privy to your rambunctious home life- two younger siblings and parents who only knew how to fight with one another.

Smiling, you thanked your boyfriend before trying to focus on the rest of the lesson.

-----

Staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you were half temped to bribe the Peacekeepers stationed at the back exit of the Citadel and skip the rest of your day. What you thought couldn’t get any worse had surprised you in the worst way possible.

Taking a deep breath, you made sure the slight wave of nausea was out of your system before joining your classmates in the bustling hallways, wanting to avoid a certain blonde’s eye.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You jumped as Clemensia came alongside of you, worry evident on her face.

Sighing, you felt you façade crumble just a bit, confiding in the black-haired girl. “I’m starting to think I’m getting a migraine.”

They were a rarity in your life, you could only count on one hand the number of migraines you could remember, but they gave you hell every time.

Clemensia’s worried frown deepened, unsure of how to help. “Do you want me to get Coriolanus or anything? See if Casca could spare a morphling bottle?”

Shaking your head, you softly groaned at the pain it caused. “No, no don’t get Coryo. He’s got enough on his plate already, he doesn’t need to worry about me, too.”

“You’re kidding if you think he doesn’t worry about you.” Clemensia replied, following you to an emptier hallway, taking your bag while you unscrewed the water bottle.

You gave the girl a look, dropping the now-empty bottle into your bag. “Do not tell Coriolanus. If I still feel like this in a little I’ll tell him.”

Clemensia could see it on your face, you had no intentions of telling your boyfriend, but she didn’t want to interfere, unsure of how Coriolanus would react if he head the news from someone else.

“Whatever you say. Now come on, Casca will probably put us in the Games if we’re late to class again.”

-----

Coriolanus knew you weren’t telling him something when you didn’t respond to Arachne’s dig at your clothing, something you two were known to bicker about.

He scootched his chair over towards you, lacing your hands together. “You sure it’s just tiredness? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not bite back at Arachne, even after our anniversary.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the comment, but you chose to otherwise ignore that part of his comment. “Maybe I have a headache, too.”

Frowning, Coriolanus chewed on his lip. He knew you’ve suffered from migraines and knew that sitting in a classroom wasn’t the best way to get rid of one. “A migraine?” He whispered, not wanting to aggravate the ache anymore.

“A small one. But it’s really nothing, I’ll be fine.” You admitted, still not letting him in on the full truth. “Now shush. I’m not in the mood for Dean Highbottom to unleash whatever punishment he’ll come up with if he catches us talking.”

Coriolanus remained quiet for the rest of class, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the pulse point on your wrist.

As soon as he dismissed the class, Coriolanus was on his feet, grabbing both his and your bags. “Come on, let’s go home.”

You rose after him, grabbing onto Coriolanus’ blazer as the world tilted for a moment. “Hold on.”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” He asked, setting the bags down to hold your other elbow, keeping you steady.

“Just a little dizzy. Nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

Growing tired of your half-truths, Coriolanus let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t have to lie to me about how you feel.”

You popped an eye open, seeing worry and anger written over your boyfriend’s face. “Fine, fine. I feel like I was hit by a train, okay? My head’s hurt all day and I nearly threw up after Festus showed us his lunch.”

Coriolanus swore under his breath, helping you to your feet. “You should’ve said something earlier. I’m sure you could’ve left and rested.”

“I’m sure all would have been fine if I suddenly disappeared, Snow. Remember what happened when I left a few months ago for my grandmother’s funeral?”

Coriolanus did indeed remember; he was nearly expelled for the reign of terror he caused after noticing your mysterious disappearance.

“That’s what I thought.” You mumbled, squinting as the bright clouds increased your headache tenfold. “Jesus, when did it get so bright out?”

“I have a few train tokens left, come on. It’ll be faster than walking, and it’s darker in there.” Coriolanus passed the two tokens over to a Peacekeeper, who in turn let you two onto the train heading to the Corso.

-break-

Collapsing on your boyfriend’s bed, you hummed in content when he drew the curtains closed. The walk up to his family’s penthouse nearly took you out, but a promise of hot tea and a nap gave you the strength to make it up.

“At least change before you sleep, don’t crease your uniform.” Coriolanus toed off his shoes, moving your own heels out of the way to avoid a potential tripping hazard.

You groaned, but sat up and shed the maroon blazer and coordinating button-up shirt. “What would I do without you, Coryo?”

Grinning, your boyfriend threw on a pair of more comfortable clothing, helping you into an outfit you kept in a drawer at his place. “Suffer through Arachne’s awful opinions and Festus’ crude remarks alone, I presume.”

You blindly threw a hand out, lightly slapping your boyfriend’s thigh. “Be nice, Coryo.”

Coriolanus laughed quietly, joining you on the bed. “Life is more fun when being bad, you know that.” He quipped, right hand going to rub soothing circles on your back. “Go to sleep, the faster you get over this migraine, the faster we can practice for our next anniversary.”

You were already nearly asleep, Coriolanus guessed, otherwise you would have had a stronger reaction than a simple snort.

-----

a/n: hey send requests that would be dope but i won't write smut it's not my vibe

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games imagine #the hunger games #coriolanus snow fluff

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angelsdean · 10 months

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blonde4blonde

#cas was a bitch to blonde-ify. it's bad i know but this is a joke post<3 #dean hair edits #ft. cas #blonde dean truthing #hair edits

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twochildreninamoteldemo · 1 year

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dean’s hair is blonde because i’ve only watched the kripke era and i believe in ethelnatural 🙏 y’all stay safe tho

#/lh #blonde dean truthing #natural blood stained blonde

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fictionalwh0ree · 4 months

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hey!!! could you please do a dean winchester x reader where they play a game or something after celebrating a successful hunt and they end up confessing to each other or something like that? thanks!

best of five- dean winchester

summary: after wrapping up a hunt, you go for a drink with dean. he challenges you to a game of darts, but when the game is tied 2-2, dean ups the stakes, changing the entire trajectory of the night. word count: 2k warnings: drinking

going to the bar after wrapping up a case had become a tradition with you and the winchester boys. when your cases were in a nice city, you’d usually end up at a nicer bar, where it didn’t smell like piss and beer. one that was busy. your nights would usually end with you having hooked up with some guy there and dean taking some girl back to the room, meaning sam would room with you for the night. however, many of your cases happened in smaller towns. this meant you’d frequent shitty bars that reeked of cheap beer and piss. you enjoyed the atmosphere more, weirdly enough.

tonight had been one of those nights, you’d wrapped up a witch case in buttfuck, kentucky. usually, you’d go straight to the bar, not even stopping at whatever shitty motel you were staying at. but today, sam had called it a night early, asking to be dropped off. you and dean pushed for the younger boy to join you guys, but he insisted that you two go one your own, saying he had a headache and was sore all over. eventually, you agreed, taking him back before showering quickly and heading out. when you’d arrived at the bar, you weren’t even sure the place was open. the building was made of wood, old wood, and it looked like it was one gust of wind away from collapsing. that’s how you knew the drinks would be cheap.

you followed dean into the bar, immediately greeted by an older bartender. you took a seat at the bar and dean ordered the two of you a beer. you scoped the area, seeing some older men in cowboy hats and flannels with ripped off sleeves eyeing you. you also noticed the girls around. similar to the men, they were older, their shirts tied up at the front and bright red lipstick was smeared messily around their thin lips, their eyes glued to dean.

“jesus christ, these people are creeping me out,” you muttered to him.

“yeah, tell me about it,” dean laughed, making eye contact with a blonde lady. she smiled “seductively,” revealing lipstick stained teeth.

“i’ll call sam, let him know he should be sleeping in my room tonight. can’t imagine you leaving here home alone tonight,” you teased.

“ha ha,” he fake laughed.

“he might have to sleep in the car. i already know you’re going home with that guy over there,” he said, nodding his head towards the corner of the room.

you looked over in the right direction, met by the eyes of a man old enough to be your father. he smiled up at you, revealing his missing front tooth and the yellowing rest.

“oh yeah, he’s real cute,” you played along, rolling your eyes playfully.

dean sighed, looking around the poorly lit building. his eyes landed on a darts board, and he was immediately interested. he got a refill on your drinks before pulling you over.

“winner pays for drinks?” you said, collecting the darts from the board.

“you know it,” he said.

“best of five?” you asked.

“yep,” he confirmed, already picking up a dart.

dean had won two sets before you caught up, bringing the score to 2-2.

“sudden death?” you asked dean.

“uh huh,” he confirmed, face a little flushed.

“but, hold on,” he said, calling your attention, “what do you say we raise the stakes?”

“how so?” you smiled, interested.

thats when dean pulled a little bottle out of his jacked pocket.

“what is that?” you asked.

“i snagged it from that witch’s house. its the truth serum,” he said.

your mind flashed back to your case. yesterday, you’d been on the hunt for whatever was causing some odd deaths in the small town. you’d stopped at a diner for breakfast, and what you didn’t know at the time was that your waitress was a witch. she overheard your conversation and put in a couple drops of the truth serum into sams drink. she was interrupted by a coworker, explaining why neither you nor dean had it in your drink. for the following four hours, sam could not lie. it was hilarious to you and dean, you couldn’t stop laughing. when you’d found her den today, sam asked her what she did. she whipped out a small bottle with a dropper.

three drops of this and you can’t tell a single lie for hours, she’d said with a smug smile.

dean had been the one to finish her off, which is why he had the chance to grab the bottle, thinking it’d be funny for the future.

“loser takes three drops?” you asked.

“loser takes three drops,” dean confirmed.

“you’re on, winchester. be ready to spill your deepest and darkest secrets to me,” you smirked.

“yeah right,” he scoffed, “i’ll be hearing all about your wet dreams in ten minutes.”

“you wish,” you laughed, picking up a dart.

after an intense twenty minutes, you were losing. the score was 17-50. all you needed was one bullseye and you could win. you were on the last dart of your turn. you focused your eyes on the taunting red circle in the middle, drawing your hand back before pushing forward and releasing the dart. you watched as it landed right in the centre, granting you the winner.

“yes,” you cheered, turning to dean with your arms up in the air.

“no no, no way,” dean said.

“i win, you lose” you said, smiling childishly.

“you are so lucky,” he spoke, shaking his head with a smile.

“it had nothing to do with luck, buddy. this is pure skill,” you bragged.

“yeah right. was landing four darts on the floor pure skill?�� he teased.

“that was all part of my master plan,” you lied.

“okay,” dean said sarcastically.

“you know what time it is,” you said, picking up the little bottle.

“i don’t know if this is a good idea, y/n,” he said.

“awe are you scared?” you said, mocking him with a pout.

“no,” he scoffed.

“perfect,” you said, dropping three drops into his beer, “drink up deano.”

he chugged the beer, slamming the cup onto the table. you watched as he opened his eyes slowly, looking at you.

“how do you feel?” you asked expectantly.

“great,” he said.

you looked at him, confused. for sam, it had hit almost instantly.

“i lied. i’m really nervous. please don’t ask me anything stupid,” he blurted, causing a smile to spread on your face.

“who was your first kiss?” you asked.

“i said it was mindy jones in eighth grade but it was actually jenna mcadams in grade ten,” he said.

“go to hell, y/n,” dean said.

“aw, you couldn’t live without me,” you teased.

“you’re right,” dean said before smacking his own face.

you smiled widely, your brain working hard to find a good question to ask him. you spitfired a couple dumb questions that left you clutching your stomach.

“okay okay. can we just go back now?” dean whined.

“fine, dean. give me your keys,” you said.

“my keys? why?” he asked.

“don’t you think you’ve drank a little too much to be on the road,” you asked.

“yes,” he said.

“perfect,” you smiled innocently, sticking your hand out towards him.

he rolled his eyes, reluctantly handing you the keys. he followed you out to his car and got into the passenger seat, you started the car up, picking out a mötley crüe casette and putting it in. as you started the car, you could feel dean’s eyes burning into the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you joked.

“your music taste is really great, you know that? i mean i didn’t expect it from you but i wish it’d rub off on sam. sometimes i actually enjoy his girly shit,” he confessed.

“you like it?” you laughed.

“it’s catchy,” he said, followed by a quick, “don’t tell sam.”

you sped down the highway, kickstart my heart blasting. your window was open a little, wind blowing into the car and blowing your hair with it. it was almost a full moon and the streets were almost completely illuminated. you felt dean’s eyes on you once more. in his head, he couldn’t help but think about how perfectly the light framed your face, how it made you look almost angelic. he tried to pry his eyes from you and he prayed you wouldn’t notice him staring. he had vowed to keep his feelings for you to himself, thinking you didn’t feel the same, worried that your relationship would be ruined if he said something. he scolded himself in his head for the serum idea. he was soon broken out of his thoughts by your voice.

“you’re staring again,” you said over the music.

“sorry,” he apologized.

your eyes flicked to him quickly before you spoke again.

“so you gonna tell me why you were staring? do i have something on my face?” you asked.

“no, you just look really beautiful,” dean confessed.

“really what?” you asked, surprised and completely flattered, your cheeks heating up.

“really beautiful,” he repeated.

“you think i’m beautiful?” you asked shyly, biting your lip.

“i think you’re the most beautiful person out there,” he said.

“are you serious?” you asked, your face now hot as you held back a smile.

“well, i can’t lie,” dean said, matter-of-factly.

“dean, can i ask you something?” you said, to which he nodded.

you knew now was your chance. you really liked dean, you had for years, and you thought you felt a connection between the two of you sometimes. you’d seen the way he looked at you sometimes, you knew you were looking at him the same way when you could. you felt it when you made eye contact, when you laughed together.

“is there something between us?” you asked, eyes flickering anxiously between the boy and the road, “because i feel like there is, but i also feel like i could just be crazy.”

“i’d like there to be,” dean confessed.

“really? because i- i like you dean,” you said, making a confession of your own.

“i like you too. i have for a long time, since you started hunting with us,” he said.

“what do you like about me?” you asked, taking the opportunity.

“you’re evil,” dean smiled.

“mm, that doesn’t sound like something you like about me,” you joked.

“well,” he said before clearing his throat, “i like how your hair smells when you wash it. i like how peaceful you look when you sleep. i like how you glow when the light hits your face. i like the way you draw everyone’s attention when you step into the room. i like how easy it is for you to read people. i like how you always have sam and i’s back. i like how you care about us more than anyone ever has. i like how you don’t complain about having to listen to our problems and how you always know what to say. i like how strong and independent you are. i like how gentle you are when you patch me up. i don’t know what i don’t like about you.”

you had arrived at the motel and parked the car. it was quiet for a moment.

“i- i actually think i might love you.”

you looked up at dean, seeing the terrified look in his eyes.

“i love you too,” you smiled, pulling dean in by the shirt.

you kissed him hard, his lips moving with yours in perfect sync.

“you’re a great kisser. what do you say we take this upstairs?” dean said, making you laugh.

you nodded and followed him up to the room, his arms around your waist the whole time.

maybe the truth serum wasn’t a bad idea after all.

#dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester

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catastrophicalcat · 5 days

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Catwoman's Love Interests, Ranked

No. 1. Batman. Predictable? Perhaps. Correct choice? Absolutely. They work purrfectly together. I may roll around to write a similar post for Bruce, but from Selina's perspective, he is an equal to her, values her independence, and helps her believe in herself.

(From the double date in Batman (2016) # 37, where Lois is wearing Selina's outfit)

No. 2-10. Selina herself. She is independent! But seriously, one of the things I loved the most from her 90s run was how not romance-focused she was! It was a lot of fun and refreshing to see female main character just not give a fuuuuck about romance.

(Look at her, just slapping this creep away as a squirrel laughs at him! From Catwoman (1993) #30).

No. 11. Christopher Castillo "Blondie". From Selina's adventures in Rome, the Blond was enamoured, charming, and helpful. Also, it wasn't clear if the attraction was truly reciprocal, or if Selina just got a fun vacation boy toy.

(Catwoman, When in Rome #6)

No. 12 Dean Hadley. I am not sure he really qualifies as a love interest, since I don't think that Selina was into him, but at least he died heroically trying to protect her.

(Can't compete with Batman, dies tragically, from Catwoman (2018) # 34)

No. 13 to 20. Selina on her own some more! Can't get enough of this girl on her own! Love the storyline where she unknowingly has a crush on a serial killer in a dog mask. You know what she did when she found out the truth about her crush? That's right, clawed the shit out of him!

(Catwoman (1993) #53. I think this storyline counts as her loving herself than being into this guy - she barely had any qualms about dumping him once she found out; none of that "but maybe I can fix him" for this cat!)

No. 21. The Riddler. Shocking choice, I know! But I'm thinking here of the Lonely City version - Batman is dead, time has passed, he made amends, they found each other. Doesn't work in other continuities, was fun here.

(Catwoman: Lonely City #3. The reveal that Eddie was a coke addict makes SO.MUCH.SENSE).

No. 22. James Thien. I guess he was fine. I didn't like it because her interest into him was really jarring - this was during the post-wedding break-up period when Selina was generally falling apart. But James was neither fish nor fowl. There wasn't enough development for her to be genuinely interested in him, and her interest was portrayed more like genuine interest than a random hook-up.

(Literally, I think that this is all the development there is! And then I don't remember what happened to him. Maybe he also died? That kind of seems to happen to her love interests a lot. Catwoman (2018) #12)

Nos. 22-90. Selina on her own some more! And Eiko. And others. Never enough of Selina being on her own! I also think that Eiko goes somewhere here probably, if not in my earlier "Selina on her own spot" - I just haven't read the New 52 run so I dunno. Other possible contenders in this range:

Onyx (but I don't think they had enough development)

The Trickster (Reddit tells me he's a Catwoman love interest but I don't remember it so it must have been neither good nor bad)

Spark (also new 52, so I dunno).

OK, this is where we get to bottom of the barrel, where unfortunately most other folks are. BTW, what's up with Selina having so many relationships with older mentor figures?

No. 91. Frank Baz. Some mafioso with whom Selina was hanging out in Italy. Ranked so low since he seems like a bad guy, there was a big age difference with her being really young, and he didn't do that much.

No. 91. Slam Bradley Sr. I think that Brubaker did a decent job making the romance between Selina and Slam Sr. work. I like how the run addressed how messy this relationship was, and how Slam was kind of preying on Selina's vulnerable emotional state. (Slam shouldn't have won that argument, but at least it was raised!) But unfortunately this is ranked so low since Slam becomes kind of a chump later on in the run and Selina's relationship with his son makes this very creepy.

(From Catwoman (2001) #17. Their relationship was actually pretty good in the beginning, but quickly got icky...)

No. 92. Wildcat/Ted Grant. I really like the backstory of Selina learning boxing from Wildcat. It's a sweet little bit setting up her eventual super-heroics, plus, Wildcat is awesome! He's a grumpy old man who is respected by everyone, even Batman (whom he also trained). Which is why I hated when Wildcat/Catwoman wrote her to have a crush on him. Gross! Did I mention that he's old?

(Catwoman/Wildcat #3. The art in this book is really 90s)

No. 92. Slam Bradley Jr. I totally get that hot people in costumes would have one night stands on rooftops after adrenaline rush situations. And the poor guy died right after sleeping with Selina! Nonetheless, ranked so low because it's sooo weird since she slept with his dad - which I think he knew - plus I'm pretty sure that their relationship started really antagonistic. Principles before hoes, bro! Also, not his fault but I don't like how he messed up Helena's paternity story some more.

(Catwoman (2001) #61. No idea why Selina tells the dad the story about how she banged his son?)

No. 93. Cat cult person who kidnapped Selina, dressed her up as princess Leia, and tried to marry her. Forgot this dude's name. Considering the stuff he did, he was a pretty nice dude. But - the stuff he did is pretty despicable!

(Catwoman #31. I really hated this storyline, so I feel like he should be lower, but I also really hated Stark and Valmont, so where can it go? Also not sure that kidnapping and forced marriage qualifies as a "love interest"; may rethink including him altogether but I also wanted to emphasize how much I don't like Stark or Valmont).

No. 94. Stark. Criminal who took Selina under his wing when she was still an underage sex worker, and slept with her. He's also a murderer. Pretty gross person overall, really creepy relationship.

(Selina's Big Score)

No. 95. Valmont. I really hate Valmont, OK? I wrote a whole giant post already about how much I hate him!

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loversofthegrave · 5 months

Text

teenage sammy grappling with his intolerable attachment to his big brother one shot<3

1998, South Carolina

Summer hits full on like a hammer, shrivelling the last spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. John has them situated this time in South Carolina in the middle of a buttfuck nowhere trailer park. Sam huffs out a whoosh wafting a strand of his shaggy, greasy hair and scuffs his knock-off beat up converse into the dry dirt, the path leading up into their new home for the next week or two.

John recites his customary speech, Dean nods, ‘Yes sir’ as Dean always does. He’s John more often than dad these days. John gave Sam a name when he was born then left, like a background actor in a movie, cut from the film roll. The rumble of the impala and he’s gone.

Spider plants hang from pots on the wide trailer porch. Chipped ceramic ornaments of butterflies and lizards were placed outside. Inside, the shabby floral wallpaper and checkered armchair. The tattered cotton curtains blowing gently, and the cross hung on the wall, wonky. It was like a polaroid from the 70s, all orange hues and clashing patterns.

“What a dump,” he said gritting his teeth.

“It’s not so bad,” Dean shrugs “Kinda cozy,”

Dean’s eyes like hawks observing their new home, finding quick exits, salting the windows and doors. Safety first, look out for Sammy, like the good toy solider that he is.

Sam knows Dean can’t help it, the urgency, the attentiveness, to keep safe, guard his little brother. Sam would be lying if he said he wouldn’t want it any other way, he hopes it’s a two-way street.

Truth is, being in each other's pocket is all they’ve ever known. Dean is Sam’s brother as much as he is his only friend, his father, his mother, all rolled into one. Dean's hands being a caress and a fumbling worry of a mother’s. Dean who changed Sam’s diapers, who soothed teething pains with nimble fingers, tender rocking's and forgiving scoldings. It was all him, not a woman with satin blonde hair and porcelain skin nor the man with the grief-stricken furrowed brows and whiskey sighs. No, it was the kid with the goofy grin and the shoulders weighed down heavy with more liability than a kid should ever know, now turned leather jackets and calloused hands, felon fingers, summers caress dotted upon the bridge of a nose. Summer has always been extra generous to him, he thought, kind of face that weighs heavy on a teenage boys heart.

Looking at Dean is like hallucinating like looking through the lenses of kaleidoscope, soft orange and pink hues from the sun dipping into the horizon of the late summer dusk framing his head like an angel but an angel in the flames. An angel that could be Gabriel but an angel that could be Lucifer too, like he would readily delve into the deep, dark hell as he would fly up to the lofty, illuminated places. And Dean would for Sam.

Dean was Sam’s first everything, and it’s no surprise Sam would want that forevermore.

Sam can’t help it, this craving, it’s insatiable, like an itch irritating him under new stretched teenage skin. If he itches and itches, scratches with blunt anxious bitten nails until he draws blood. But the blood he revels in, the curving, cutting and slaughtering himself to fit into the groove of Dean’s heart, he would do anything, and he knows Dean would do the same but not in the ways Sam yearns for. Sam knows, he knows it’s twisted, he knew as soon as he was enrolled in school and how not everyone else feels that way about brothers. But he doesn’t care, not when Dean is the only grace he was given in his world of destruction and ruin, his pure drop in an ocean of chaos. Damn it if the lord doesn’t forgive him, heaven and hell are just words to a hopeless boy like Sam. When his brother looks at him, he decides to wage holy war.

But Dean doesn’t know, not really, he knows Sam loves him but no more, no less, too frightful Sam would scare him fiercely, that he would leave Sam here, loose his grace, and what is Sam without his grace? Just an empty vessel, an angel damned from heaven, forever. Think he’s sick, corrupt, disgusting. Only Sam can be the one to know this about himself, swallow the key if he must. He tries his best to shelter away these parts from Dean, distancing ever so slightly, it just makes the craving worst, he thinks, withdrawal.

So, he lives with Dean, in his shadow. Watches him, envies him, wants to be him, wants to be with him, under him. Watches him waltzing around the kitchen with sultry hips after this week's easy fuck. Probably some white trash bimbo Sam thinks harshly, doesn’t know what it truly means to have him, a boy, a man, like Dean. He goes for anything with legs and a mouth in a 1-mile radius, puts it out to anything, anyone but Sam.

“You stink Dean,” Sam mumbles under his breath

“That’s the smell of champions Sammy” Dean grins, easy and careless, throwing a wink over his shoulder. Sam shoots daggers into his back.

This is their dance, Dad goes on a hunt for a couple of weeks, Dean and Sam are holed up in a shack and they pretend that this is their normal, habit, but it’s not, they we’re and forever born in motion. Dean enrols Sam into the local (another) high school, Dean gets a short-term job working with his hands to hold them over until Dad gets back, this time at the garage. They make small talk with strangers when necessarily and act according to their roles, relocates the suspicious eyes on Sam’s stitched up hand me down t-shirts and Deans violet blooming bruises from training and hunts, keeps social services off their back. But they fit in OK around this truckers town so Sam holds it rigid, this vexation, lewdness, this jealousy brimming. Puberty is fucked, Sam likes to blame it on that.

It’s Friday, the shutters of the trailer are open and wide. Sam’s in makeshift shorts that were once jeans that he cut at the knees one town ago. The radio is static, and The Mama’s & The Papa’s is being carried through the thick-cut air, ‘you've got everything I need, and nobody can please like you, you baby and who believes that my wildest dreams and my craziest schemes will come true?’

Sam’s growth spurt mixed with food stamp fed spindly legs are propped up on the coffee table barefoot, toes wiggling, as he shovels spoonfuls of store brand cornflake knock offs in his mouth. Dean comes in wafting of oil and summer sweat after being outside tinkering with the ford pick-up truck Dad sorted out with a local hunter before he briskly left. He slaps the bottom of Sam’s foot with his greasy rag. Sam grunts.

"Up and at 'em or you're gonna be late" Dean lectures, parenting.

Sam rucks on an old 1975 Black Sabbath tour shirt that used to be Dean's that used to be Dads, now faded grey and bobbling. Pokes his feet into socks with his right toe sticking out of the hole, laces up his shoes and climbs into the passenger seat of the pick-up. Dean drops Sam off at the Pine Springs High and told him he'd pick him up, told him to ‘give ‘em hell’.

Pine Springs High was full of scraggy kids, Beavis and Butt-head boys, girls busty and leggy. Sam befriends one friend, a skinny freckled boy with thick rimmed glasses. His name is Davey. They were sat next to each other in science, dissecting a frog. Sam figures cutting open this frog is harder than the ghouls they slaughter. What did this frog ever do to anyone? Davey was informing Sam on the anatomy, pointed out the chambers of the heart, the ventricle. He seemed interested in trying to impress Sam with how smart he was. "You know a lot," stated Sam.

He smiled. He was a boy who wanted to be seen. Sam suspects with certainty he’s not in these careless halls of teenagers reeking of hormones and wariness of social status.

High school is not as gentle with kids like Sam and Davey. But Sam can tackle it, give as good as he gets. That’s what he’s been trained to do, what their dad trained him to do, those sparring sessions with Dean every other day doesn’t go to waste, as much as Sam likes to grumble and whine. The decomposition ghost of a girl in a tatty white dress with fine needlepoint lace trimmings from the 1820’s has more oomph in her thump than any of these teenagers.

Even in a Gas-mart town like this one full of greasy kids with dirty fingernails Sam still is stared at by clusters of kids. Maybe it’s the adequate collection of bruising on his body from said sparring and Victorian decomposition, or maybe it’s the fact he’s an outsider (he’s always the outsider) but Sam doesn’t mind. Cleanliness and godliness are deceptive, he’d rather wear his wounds, his ugliness. No fooling, he was torn and stitched.

Dean picks Sam up, sees the mop of brown hair and downcast face amongst the sea of chattering high-spirited kids. It reminds Dean of when he encouraged him to go to a classmate's birthday party in kindergarten, timid little Sammy protested but Dean encouraged his little brother to go, nervy on all he was missing out growing up. When Dean went to pick him up at McDonald's he spotted him, dejected, eyes glazed over. Other children around him screaming and sliding into pits filled with coloured balls. It splintered Dean to his core.

When Sam is in arm reach Dean tousles Sam's hair, and he gets a whack of the hand and a gruff in response.

“How’d it go Sammy?” Dean asks, hefting himself up into the driver's seat.

“Fine.” Sam replies, quick, sharp. “And it’s Sam,” he stresses.

Dean doesn’t know what it is these days but there’s a slight ache, a gnawing. Sam used to look at Dean like he hung the stars just for him. That Dean was God’s own reflection but now there’s a distance, an interspace and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. At first, he thought maybe it’s teenage hormones or pheromones or whatever the fuck, but Dean never remembers being that sulky as a teenager. Maybe he never got the chance. When he tries to touch Sam, he flinches, scurries away like he just spooked a rodent. Used to revel in it, they practically grew up in each other's arms. Was still sharing a bed in the motels until two years ago.

Dean would never admit it out loud to him, but he misses Sam. Misses that constant comfort of touch and affection.

They stop off at a local diner on their way back to the trailer park, Sam questions if they have enough money for the month to eat out, Dean tells him not to worry. All wooden panels, red and white checkered table clothes, a sign that reads, ‘lumber jack pancake special for $5.95!’ Dean eyes it up, breakfast at dinnertime, their lives never have rhythm or reason anyways. They slide into a booth of worn leather, Sam on one side, Dean on the other.

Sam orders a panini with ham and cheese and fries, Dean the lumber jack pancakes. When they arrive by a shy petite waitress with inky dark eyes and blushing blotted cheeks, Dean swipes a fry off Sam’s plate just to receive another swat. Any touch is better than no touch, bad attention better than none.

Sam doesn’t miss the way the waitresses' eyes linger on Dean’s profile. If he shoots a frosty glare her way Dean doesn’t have to know.

The sun with no forgiveness, a parched sky, the hillsides with purple wilting drifts of milkweed, dotting the cracks of the gas-station and garage. It was Saturday, Sam was at the garage while Dean worked. Tucked in a corner sheltered from the suns ruthless beat with his library copy of Catcher In The Rye he couldn’t return when John dragged them out of the motel inn at dawn a town back. Sam said he felt guilty, Dean told him to stop being such a law-abiding citizen.

He gazed at Dean, could smell his sweat, sharp and strong, a man, Sam’s brain applied helpfully. He was wearing overalls, wiping workman sweat from his forehead. Sam wanted to lick him, taste the salt and summer kissed skin. He knows he’s disgusting. At this rate Sam thinks he should stab his eyes out, so he can’t look. Burn his skin off, so he can’t touch.

The next Sunday, Sam sleeps in late. He finds Dean slouched on the floral couch, stretched out like a housecat watching TV. It’s always a rarity to see him in a relaxed stance, undisturbed, a recess to the constant chaos of their lives. It settles something steady and peaceful within Sam with just a hint of sadness. He mumbles a drowsy good morning and trudges to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He pisses in the toilet, sluggish, holds himself up steady with a hand against the tiles. The splash of his piss hitting the water too loud in the quiet murmur of their trailer.

Washing his hands, he moseys around in the medicine cabinet above the sink. Inside, aimless trinkets left behind by previous owners. Tweezers with a single gemstone on them, antibiotic ointment, outdated eyedrops.

Sam finds a small capsule behind an empty bottle of aspirin. He reaches for it, revealing a lipstick, the cheap kind you pick-up at Walmart for $5.

He holds it in his hand, stares. Turns it in his palm, opens the lid with a subtle click and rotates the base.

The lipstick itself is a cherry red, obscene kind of red. The type he sees on hookers lingering around the corners at motels when he slips out at dusk to buy Dr Peppers from the vending machine with the quarters Dean made him pocket.

The garish fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, whirring like insects as he watches them showcasing their chests and unveiled legs. They always look cold, Sam thinks.

Sam looks up and scans his face in the mirror, holds the lipstick close to his nose, sniffs it. It smells like wax and chemicals, half suspected it to smell like strawberries and an angel's kiss or something, screws his nose up.

Without much reflection he smears the cherry red lipstick onto his lips, it's messy and askew not as neat as he sees on the girls in Dean's skin mags. He sets down the lipstick onto the sink and looks at himself, really looks.

The glaring red on such a boyish face like Sam's feels lewd and indecent. He feels slightly silly, embarrassed, his cheeks stain a weak scarlet. He wonders what others would think of him like this, Dean, his dad.

God, dad would probably be appalled, call him a sissy, punish him by making him do triple the training. Make him run for miles under the blazing sun.

But Dean, what would Dean think of his little brother like this? If Sam just waltzed right out of the bathroom now and stood dead in the line of Dean's vision. Would he stammer? Get all flustered and struck-dumb? Would he look at Sam and think of him as those girls he promenades to the impala, the motel room when he thinks Sam's asleep and not hanging onto every grunt and sigh coming from Dean's throat. Stores them in the hollow of his heart, imprinted on it just as sacred as the Holy Bible is to a priest.

Would he want to tenderly caress the shape of his mouth, smear the lipstick, make Sam looked wrecked? He inspects the long plains of his body, like scorched landscape, bronzed from June’s boldness.

Sam’s been trying to get used to it, his recasting body. Finally losing his baby fat, almost catching up to Dean in height much to Dean’s dismay. Just he doesn’t carry the newly stretched limbs well, feels like a puppet and someone else is yanking the strings. He hasn’t thought about it much, how others perceive him, how Dean perceives him.

Sure, Sam’s had his first kiss and fumbled under a girl's shirt in Indiana last year, let him touch her boobs. She wore lots of eyeliner, wore black bulky boots and liked Alice In Chains. Sam creamed his pants as soon as he got a soft plump handful, she didn’t seem to mind so he tried not to feel too embarrassed. He couldn’t wait to tell Dean (lied to a reasonable measure) for him to be proud of him. Dean let Sam have his first beer after he told him, “Since you’re a man now,” Dean announced, “Don’t tell Dad,” He winked. Sam never tells John their secrets.

But other than that, he’s a bit clueless, still bashful when girls look his way. Isn’t fabricated like Dean, heavied bottom lip into effortless grin that make’s girls drop and fractures their porcelain hearts, little unconsciously brutal but never intentional to be so. Sam would let Dean smash him into smithereens, shards of broken ceramic all over the tiles, if he’d wanted.

He thinks about the woman who supposedly left the lipstick here, he decides it’s an older woman, barefoot in a simple dress in the tail end of summer, her feet and the palms of her hands showed pale pink against her sunburnt skin, looked ornamental. He decided she had many lovers, wore it for them, wonders if Dean would be one. Wonders what she would think finding out a gawky teenage boy was trying on her bygone lipstick.

Wonders what it would be like to wear this for Dean, his lover.

Dean compulsive, gluttonous with the want of Sam, gushing his hands over the sides of his body, the pull of his rutting teenage hips. The neediness he sometimes gets in that platonic brotherly way bordering on hysteria whenever Sam’s hurt. All his senses submerged entirely by Dean Dean Dean, his touch, his smell, his hot breath.

Sam shoves a frantic hand down his pyjama pants and briefs, wrenches his dick with crazed tugs. Comes that exact same time there’s rough banging on the door, Dean shouting, “Come on Sam, you’ve been in there forever!” rattling the door with his presence.

Sam leaps, grimacing at the mess he made in his pants, swiping a towel and cleaning himself up in rapid motions. Rubs off the lipstick with the back of his hand, scouring his mouth.

“You jerking off in their little brother?” Dean calls out, muffled slightly through the thick wood of the bathroom door, amusement laced in his tone.

When Sam is sure he’s cleansed himself of any misdemeanours and removed all crucial evidence he swings the door open and shoulders past Dean muttering, “No Dean, I wasn’t jerking off.” How much of that Dean believes is out of his control. He pockets the lipstick.

#I wrote a wincest thing #teenchesters #should i write more #i did write a whole story to this like 13k words but I didnt like it much in the end but #here is a snippet #sammy pov figuring his feelings for his brother out #wincest #wincest one shot #weecest #weecest one shot #wincest fanfic #supernatural #spn #sam/dean #sam winchester #dean winchester #pre series sam/dean

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klbwriting · 5 months

Text

Surface Tension

Chapter 4: Like Real People Do

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none this chapter, next one will have some, this is more fluff

Summary: Y/N introduces Orm to her friends and they take a next step

Notes: more good stuff! comments/critiques are appreciated! Song is 'Like Real People Do' by Hozier

Taglist: @gabrieleskywalker @philiasoul

"You are so into this guy!" Aria laughed as she sat at her kitchen table with Y/N the day after Halloween. "What is his name again?" She was multitasking, feeding her infant. Y/N hadn't said his name, knowing that if she did Aria would know who it was. Orm wasn't exactly a common surface dweller name and Aria still had contacts in Atlantis, she had just been telling Y/N that the previous king Orm had escaped his prison cell and was presumed dead in some attempt to retrieve the Black Trident from the Lost Kingdom. Although, according to Aria, that sounded ridiculous, Orm was in hiding somewhere. And Y/N had paled a little, thinking about how he was in hiding, right next door to her.

"His name is Oren," she said, thinking as fast as she could. It could work, not like Aria was going to meet him any time soon if Y/N could help it. "He's from somewhere in Europe."

"Tell me more about him, I've heard he's hot, and that's he's funny, what else does he have going for him?" she pressed and Y/N regretted bringing him up. She hadn't meant to tell Aria, but she was her best friend and just like most best friends, she knew when Y/N was infatuated with someone and Y/N was bad at keeping secrets from her.

"Well, funny thing, you know who he reminds me of?" she said, figuring if she told her he reminded her of Orm maybe if they did stumble across each other it would set up the idea in her mind that he was some kind of surface dwelling doppelganger. Aria nodded for her to keep going as she spooned more baby food into her daughter's mouth. "King Orm actually, he's got the same exact kind of royal way about him. He also is blonde, sometimes things he's the greatest thing to happen in the world, and he's charming as hell." She had rambled a little more than she meant to and didn't realize Aria was now staring at her.

"If he's anything like that prick Orm you should leave him be, that asshole was a genocidal maniac who didn't care about anyone but himself and that stupid crown," Aria said, voice dripping with venom. Y/N bit her lip.

"I said he's like Orm, but he's also so kind and I can't imagine him being a genocidal maniac or not caring about others. He's been nothing but sweet to me and anyone I've seen him with. You should have seen him with his nephew yesterday, that man is nothing like Orm was," she said. Aria narrowed her eyes, assessing her friend for a minute before finally nodding and offering a small smile.

"Well, I hope he comes to your birthday party tomorrow, Dean would love to meet him," she said, looking a little guilty now. YN's eyes widened. Her party, at her house, that Orm would definitely notice, and be really hurt if she didn't tell him he could come. Aria was supposed to be there, but she had said only Dean, her husband, would meet him.

"Why is only Dean coming?" she asked. Aria sighed.

"The hospital had another flu breakout among the nursing staff, I've been called in for 3 12's," she said. "I'm sorry, I promise we got you an amazing present! And once I'm done with these horrendous shifts I will take you out for a proper fun time." Y/N nodded, putting on an upset face, but inside she was doing a cartwheel. If Aria wasn't there and Dean talked to Orm, then he could report back to Aria instead of her seeing him for herself. Dean had no idea who Orm was, he was a surface dweller who barely understood anything about Atlantis and honestly, didn't care to know once he heard how horrible they were to the lower city. She knew sooner or later Aria would meet Orm but she could warn her first, actually talk to her about him and tell the truth before then.

The day of her party, after getting the supplies and starting to make some of the food she had planned she walked to Orm's door, knocking on the wall as she went. She frowned when didn't answer so she went to the back porch and towards the water. He was swimming again, just a few hundred feet out and back. She took a deep breath, walking slowly down to the beach. She could stay on the shore, it was too cold for a human to be swimming, he would make the excuse he always did, he was used to these temperatures, family of swimmers, blah blah blah, a human would have been still suspicious, but she would pretend what he said made sense. She got to where the rocks started and stopped.

"Orm!" she yelled, hoping he heard her over the wind. He didn't seem to so she took a couple steps forward, heart starting to pound as she pictured a drop of water getting onto her shoes and somehow sending word to her mother that she was near the water, ready for capture. She knew how crazy that was but the fear in her mind didn't care. "ORM!" she yelled, this time louder, and with a little more panic in her voice. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She saw him freeze, looking at her. She wasn't sure what he saw but he swam, faster than any person would be able to, back to the shore, running over to her.

"Y/N, are you alright?" he asked. Orm had heard her voice, hearing thinly veiled terror in her tone. Then he saw the look on her face from the water, she looked pale, like she was going to pass out. He knew he had swam too fast, but he was worried about her, had to get to her as fast as he could.

"I'm alright, just scared of the water," she said, but he felt that was a lie. Why did she lie about the ocean? He couldn't understand it, but he would accept it. "Are you finished? I wanted to ask you something?" He nodded and she forced a smile. He took her arm gently and started to lead her back towards the house, seeing the worry melt away the further they moved from the sea.

"What's going on?" he asked once they were safely back on their porch.

"Well, um, I'm having a party tonight, its my birthday party and I wanted you to come. Its nothing big, just a few friends. We'll mostly eat, play some board games, nothing crazy," she said. Orm stared. The last birthday party he had been to was his 18th and that had ended terribly, he hoped all birthday parties weren't so bad. He swallowed the memories of that night down and nodded.

"Ya, I'll come, what time?" he asked. He had to know how much time he had to find her a present, if he knew one thing about birthdays here it was that gifts were required.

"At 8, and no gifts required, we're all saving for our own lives, so no one ever brings any," she said. He frowned, not liking that. She deserved a gift for just existing and making his world infinitely better over the last 4 months. He nodded anyway and smiled.

"I will see you at 8 then, now I'm going to shower, its freezing out here," he said, realizing he should have been shivering. Y/N just nodded, a knowing look in her eye that he could never place and headed inside.

Orm did in fact shower, go out to a small boutique in the town, and get ready all within the time frame and was knocking on her wall at 8 before heading to her door. It was thrown open by a strange man before Y/N pushed him out of the way to greet Orm. She came onto the porch, closing the door behind her, but he Orm noticed several faces peering out the front window.

"Alright, this is a little out of control, but um, I have never invited anyone outside of this little friend group to a party before," she said. Orm didn't hear her at first, staring instead at how beautiful she looked. She had dressed up in a green dress with blue pearl accents around the neckline, her hair was down and longer than he realized, and her face was made up in soft golds to bring out her eyes but not hide her freckles. She looked more amazing than any woman on land or in the sea. He shook himself and blushed a little. "They think we're dating but you know, I've been trying to tell them we're friends, but they, they don't believe me." She was blushing also, glancing from him to her friends and trying to wave them away from the window.

"It's...its fine, hopefully they like me," he said. They were friends, but were they? He knew he didn't feel like she was just his friend, he was starting to feel like she was more than that, more than everything to him. She nodded and then noticed the small bag in his hand. She took it gently as they walked inside.

"I said no gifts to him, I promise," she said, setting the bag down on a side table, out of the way and safe from the festivities. Her friends just smiled, all looking like they were anticipating something. Orm now understood the scrutiny he normally placed on others. They were watching his every move, trying to read how he felt about Y/N.

"Hi, I'm, I'm Orm," he said, unsure what else to do, he looked to his neighbor and she seemed to be coming out of a trance.

"Ya, um Orm, this is Vincent, his husband James, Amanda, her husband Nick, Colleen, her fiance Erin, and this is Dean, he is my friend Aria's husband. She's a nurse and couldn't be here tonight," she explained, going down the line. He noticed that her voice hitched a little when she spoke and Dean and Aria and Orm knew those were the ones he was trying to make a good impression on. The others all came over, introducing themselves and talking at once at him. He felt relief wash over him when Y/N suggested they play a board game, something called Horrified, and they seemed to lose interest in Orm.

The party was great, food amazing, music soft but still fun and celebratory. Y/N kept asking people to dance with her but no one did and Orm can see it was bothering her. He would have if Dean hadn't cornered him a little, asking him questions about himself and then dropping a bomb on him.

"Aria thinks you and Y/N should be together," he said. Orm looked at him surprised. "O come on, you are all Y/N talks about anymore and you haven't taken your eyes off her all night, you two should just kiss and get it over with." In that instant Dean reminded Orm a great deal of Arthur and he thought he much he wanted to talk to his brother. He never thought he would be wishing for Arthur's perspective on something but now he craved it. Arthur had dealt with all this before, the feelings, the desires, Orm hadn't really dated anyone ever. Mera was supposed to marry him, so he may have found someone to warm his bed from time to time he never had actually felt like this for anyone. He wanted to hear Y/N tell him her secrets, he wanted to taste her skin and her lips, he wanted to hear her laugh, wanted to feel her body against his, he wanted everything with this person. He didn't know how to react to that.

"Ya, well maybe," was all he could offer Dean, but the other man just smirked some and nodded, before saying goodbye to Y/N and heading out for the night. It was getting late and her friends were all starting to leave. Orm hovered in the background, getting glasses and dishes to clean up and find some time to be alone with Y/N. She got the last guest out of the door and turned to face him.

"Hi," she said softly, noticing he was still there. He set down to dishes he was carrying to walked over to the side table, getting the present.

"Would you like to open it?" he asked. She blushed and took the bag. She opened it slowly, inside was a necklace with a silver chain and a single pearl. She stared for a moment, mouth open a little.

"Orm, this beautiful, its too much, but thank you," she said. He smiled and offered his hands. She handed him the box and he took out the necklace as she moved her hair. He gently put it on her, fingers thrilling at the touch of her skin. He was tempted right then to kiss her before stopped himself. He wanted to know that she wanted to kiss him back, wanted to see it in her eyes first. He heard a song playing, soft and perfect for a dance.

"You said you wanted to dance, well, shall we?" he asked. He had never danced before on the surface but he had seen a couple movies, he knew the idea and he wanted to see her smile. She nodded, taking his hand and pulling him to the center of her living room. She put one of his hands her her waist, hers on his shoulder and she held the other. They started the song a foot from each other but as it progressed they moved closer until they were nearly nose to nose, whispering to each other about the party, about anything really.

She could hear the songs words and now was glancing from Orm's blue eyes to his lips. She noticed him doing the same and despite knowing that this would open her up more, would make her vulnerable, more than she had let herself be with anyone since she ran away from Atlantis, she nodded at him. He didn't need any other signs, leaning in and taking her lips with his. They had stopped dancing, now just in an embrace. Her hands went into his hair, his to her hips, pulling her even closer to him as his tongue pressed against her lips. She welcomed it, meeting him as they deepened the kiss. When they parted she took a deep breath.

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask and neither should you

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real do

"Would you like to stay the night?" she asked. He nodded and she led him upstairs.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries3

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