#dean hissing under his breath: it’s dean smith dean smith dean SMITH are you trying to get me arrested

[orpheuscas]

fics where dean and cas get married are like. one of you is a convicted felon who is legally dead six times over and one of you is the possessed husk of an illinois accountant who went missing a decade ago. only one last name between the two of you and nary a social security number in sight. who is giving you a marriage license

[dothwrites]

#76 Awkward IT!Cas and CEO!Dean

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#76--Nobody thinks what I think (Dean Smith/Castiel)

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“IT help, this is Novak.” 

“Hi, this is Becky Rosen from Smith’s office.” 

Castiel freezes at the perky voice. Even though he’s just a lowly IT grunt, he does keep up with the news of Sandover Bridge and Iron. He knows all about the unlikely promotion of Dean Smith to CEO, over the heads of several, possibly more well-qualified, candidates. He hasn’t caught a picture of him, but the rumors are that he was too young for the position, that he’d gotten it through networking and not through his merits. 

Meanwhile, Becky’s been talking and Castiel has to struggle to catch up. 

“--so if you can send someone up to take a look, that would be wonderful.”

She hangs up before Castiel can ask her to repeat herself, which might be for the best. Then at least he can get away with the facade that he’s not a complete idiot. Her last words hang in his head--send someone up. Rosen wants someone from IT to take a look at their new CEO’s computer. Castiel wants it to be anyone else but him. 

He looks at his best friend, willing him to be free. “Sam,” he hisses, twisting in his chair. Sam Wesson ignores him, which might mean that he’s on a call, or it might mean that he’s just being an ass. “Sam,” Castiel hisses, more urgently, punctuating the name with a pencil tossed towards the larger man’s back. 

Sam turns around, his mouth twisted in playfully amused irritation. “Problem?” 

“Smith’s office just called. They want someone from IT to go upstairs.” 

Sam’s eyes flick up and down. “Well, it looks like you fit that bill.” 

Color floods Castiel’s cheeks. “I can’t go up there!” He’s fine over the phone, when the meat of most of his conversations consists of Have you tried turning it off and then back on again? Having an actual conversation? In person? Not so much. Sam is infinitely more suave than him, capable of holding a normal conversation with a normal person for at least three minutes at a time. He would be perfectly fine to go to the CEO’s office and not get fired. 

“Look, Cas, normally I’d be there for you, but I’m working on this.” Sam twists to show Cas a tangle of spreadsheets, all of them with complex coding. “They’re trying out a new program in accounting and asking us to work through the kinks. You go. It’s probably something you could do over the phone, but new CEO wants to throw his weight around. Ten bucks says he won’t even be in the office.” 

With that, Castiel is sent upstairs. He brings a small briefcase along with him, unsure of what he’ll actually need. If he’d been paying attention to Becky, then he might know, but that would mean that he was an actual person with actual social skills, so that was always a long shot. 

He presses the button for Floor 20, the top floor of the building. This is the floor reserved for the CEO, complete with his office, conference room, and personal bathroom suite. For all Castiel knows there might be a gym up there too; rumor has it that their new CEO is a stickler for a morning workout. 

The elevator opens, revealing a sumptuous waiting room. Behind a desk which dwarfs his, sits perky blonde woman. No one should be able to smile that widely at work. 

“Hi,” Castiel says, his hand raised in an abortive wave. “I’m Cas Novak, I’m here from IT.” His pale yellow polo screams his department, and his hand hangs awkwardly in the air. 

Becky grins at him, one perfectly manicured nail pressing down on the intercom. “Mr. Smith? IT is here.” A garbled reply comes through the intercom and Becky smiles at him. “You can go on in,” she tells him, gesturing at a door which probably cost more than his monthly salary. There’s something encouraging in her smile, like going into the CEO’s office is something that Castiel can do. 

Castiel takes tiny little steps towards the door, waiting for a hurricane to possibly hit the building, making computer troubles the least of anyone’s worries. He’s not lucky enough for that to happen, so he knocks on the door, wincing at the noise his knuckles make. Too loud? Does it sound like he’s trying to beat his way in? A gruff voice bids him to come in, and Castiel obeys. 

He walks into a room which has more square feet in it than his office. There’s a bar in the office, with a mini-fridge, stocked with waters and energy drinks, a small table for private meetings, a seating area with a loveseat and chairs, and a desk which looks as though it function as a raft, in the event of the office flooding. And behind the desk...

Castiel usually doesn’t call other men beautiful, but it’s the only word which describes the man behind the desk. 

Despite his unfortunate fashion choices (blue and white pinstripes do not go well with red suspenders, not that Castiel can make any judgments; he himself is dressed in a pastel usually reserved for Easter parties and nurseries), Castiel can already tell that his boss is indeed a stickler for the morning (and maybe afternoon and evening) workouts. He has broad shoulders and the fabric of his suit doesn’t hide the muscle underneath. Castiel spends a long moment lingering over his hands, with their clean, neat nails and thick fingers (there are quite a few uses he could of for those fingers). To top off the whole package is a face with a jawline strong enough to crush titanium, full pink lips, and large eyes with full lashes. He can’t be but a few years older than Castiel, if that, which makes him astonishingly young for his position. 

The man (Mr. Smith, his boss) finally offers a cautious, “Hi?” 

Castiel licks his suddenly dry lips. “Hi,” he says, then remembers that this is the man who is worth billions and who has power over his literal job (and therefore his living situation and eating situation). “I’m, uh, from IT? There was a problem?” 

Mr. Smith blinks at him for a long moment, and Castiel wonders how he could have possibly screwed up so soon. Then he gathers himself and gestures towards his computer. “Yeah. I got here first thing, and it won’t turn on.” Castiel chances a surreptitious look to make sure it’s plugged in and comes back with inconclusive results. “Think you can do something about that, Steve?” 

Heat floods Castiel’s cheeks. He hadn’t really looked this morning when he grabbed at his nametag (he hadn’t really looked when he grabbed for a shirt, a fact of which he is almost painfully aware of now that he’s standing in front of Mr. Smith), and of course he’d grabbed the joke. 

“Castiel,” he mumbles, and immediately regrets it. What does it matter that Mr. Smith knows his name? He’s never going to see the man again, so really why does it matter? (He wants to hear that lovely, deep, gruff voice say his name, his full name. Just once.)

“Your nametag says Steve.” Castiel knows the look that’s starting to spread over Mr. Smith’s face. It’s the one that he’s seen all of his life, the one that says Uh-oh, now I’ve gotten myself into a conversation with this freak, how can I best extract myself from this situation. It hurts, much more than it should, to see Mr. Smith start to look that way. 

“It was a joke,” Castiel mumbles. Warmth spreads down his neck, sparking a nervous little sweat. “My name is apparently difficult for people, so they gave me this tag to make things easier.” 

Mr. Smith’s mouth purses. “Well, that’s a douchey thing for whoever to do. Cas-tee-ell.” He lingers over the tee, rolling it on the tip of his tongue, and goosebumps prickle on Castiel’s arms. “It’s a mouthful, but it’s not hard.” 

A different kind of warmth suffuses through Castiel. It starts at the center of his chest and slowly spreads outward, like the eggnog that he had last Christmas at the company party. It’s tingly at the edges. 

“Well, that’s not what everyone else thinks,” Castiel says, to try and diffuse the heat flooding through his body. 

“Yeah, well, nobody thinks how I think.” Mr. Smith keeps his eyes focused on Castiel’s face. There’s something intense in his eyes, and for once, Castiel finds himself on the uncomfortable end of a staring contest. “‘S why they gave me the gig in the first place. ‘Innovative ideas’ or something like that.” He chuckles, and there’s something bitter in the sound. “I don’t think they realized that I have maybe one good idea every couple of years.” 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Castiel blurts, before he can stop himself. He has no real basis of comparison for his statement; he knows next to nothing about Mr. Smith. “I just mean,” he stammers, “that if you start doubting yourself, then you’ll never know what you can do.” 

The advice rings as hollow coming from his mouth as it did coming from the mouths of every advisor and guidance counselor he ever had. Mr. Smith’s mouth twists in a sardonic little smile. “Supposed to breathe new life into this company, and I can’t even get the damn computer going.” 

“Oh!” Suddenly remembering the reason he’s in this dream of an office, Castiel moves forward. “I can probably help with that.” 

He steps in close to Mr. Smith (too close if his sudden blush and recoil are any indication) and fiddles with the mouse and monitor. The screen remains dark, which Castiel is almost glad to see. At the very least, it tells him that Mr. Smith isn’t an idiot. He follows the cords and finds that at the very least, the computer is plugged in. He kneels under the desk, sorting through the various tangle. 

“Ok, the person who put this together is an idiot,” he murmurs, tugging at a cord. 

“I put it together.” 

A cold spike of fear jolts through Castiel. Why, why, why does he always speak without thinking? Why can’t he be like a normal person, who had a modicum of tact, why can’t he manage to hold it together in a conversation long enough to interact like a regular person? Why is he such a disaster of a person? 

He bashes his head on the top of the desk as he scrambles out from underneath it. He glances up at Mr. Smith (tries not to concentrate on the visual aspects of this particular scene: him, on his knees underneath the desk, Mr. Smith, on his chair, looking down at him with a smoothly amused expression). “I’m sorry,” he says, hopefully in a garbled amalgamation of the English language. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Calm down, Cas, it was just a joke.” Mr. Smith’s face turns apologetic. “Apparently not a funny one.” 

Relief floods through Castiel, at odds with the throbbing pain in his head. “I just meant...the person who set up the computer did it wrong. The wires are shorted out.” He rubs at the back of his head as he glances back down. “It’s a simple fix, shouldn’t take me more than five minutes.”

“Oh.” Mr. Smith’s mouth (Castiel really shouldn’t be staring at Mr. Smith’s mouth so much, has Mr. Smith noticed how much Castiel has been staring at his mouth? Is Mr. Smith aware that he has a mouth which is very stare-worthy?) drops in a frown. “So quick?” 

“Well like I said,” Castiel grunts as he shimmies back under the desk, “it’s a quick fix once you realize what you’re doing. The person who set this up was probably just trying to go too fast and made a mistake. Or something. Who knows.” He doesn’t want to throw a member of his department under the bus, but he doesn’t want to lie to Mr. Smith either. 

“No, I just mean...” Mr. Smith taps his fingers against the desk. “Listen, do you want a cup of coffee or something?” He gestures towards the gleaming coffee machine on the counter. 

“I don’t know.” Castiel stops working and pokes his head out from under the desk. “I don’t want to be late.” 

Mr. Smith laughs. The sound is round and rich. It fills the room and sends little sparks of delight dancing down to his fingertips. “Who’s going to narc on you? You think you’re going to get in trouble with the boss?” 

“I mean...I guess...” Castiel can’t help but smile at Mr. Smith. 

“Come on, Cas. Give me a break here. Have a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m really glad you got the job,” comes tumbling out of Castiel’s mouth. Which is bad enough, but then comes, “You’re much better looking than Mr. Adler.” 

A dreadful silence hangs over the room. Castiel hopes his words will fade, but they linger between them like skywriting, scrawled in neon. His brain decides to come back online now, with thousands of worst-case scenarios. 

Mr. Smith fires him for sexual harassment. 

Mr. Smith presses charges against him. 

Mr. Smith ensures that Castiel Novak never gets a job anywhere in the industry ever again. 

Castiel ends up homeless and alone, ridiculed by everyone, and has to move in with Gabriel, possibly ending up working as a production assistant in Gabriel’s porn company. 

Then Mr. Smith laughs. It’s not a mean sound; it’s delighted. He pinches at the bridge of his nose, still laughing. Even after the sound fades, his shoulders still shake with mirth. When he opens his eyes, Castiel thinks there are actual tears in them. 

“I mean, that’s a pretty low bar to set, but I’m glad that I made it over.” Mr. Smith chuckles. He’s still laughing as he makes his way to the coffeemaker. He pushes a few buttons, then leans against the counter. “Stay for coffee, Cas. Please,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Castiel thinks of his tiny cubicle, crowded together with dozens of other small boxes, in a stifling environment screaming with the sounds of computers and copiers. He thinks of Mr. Smith’s smile, the strange kindness in him, the thoughtfulness with which he said his name. 

“I can stay for coffee, Mr. Smith.”

Mr. Smith turns around, one eyebrow raising at the formality. “Call me Dean,” he says. 

Castiel turns the name over in his head several times. It’s simple, direct, yet oddly complicated. It suits the man in front of him. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

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[kickingitwithkirk]

She’s My Whip

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2250

Warnings: oral (m & f giving/receiving) sex, squirting, cursing, pornish language and other adulting things that make it 18+only

A/N:  A-Z Kink Challenge: Younger/Older  Written for @covered-byroses #cbrkinkchallange  Thank you Ms.Kelly for letting me participate in my first writing challenge

A/N: this is my first work (outside a drabble) I’ve ever let anyone read. I quit writing over a decade ago so I’m rusty as hell but working on getting my mojo back. Creative criticism welcome

A/N II: 3/21/21 I did some rewriting on this piece I love so much, fixing the things that’s nagged at me since original release.

* no beta , all mistakes are mine

*GIF not mine

“...So that’s when I knew I had closed the deal.” The guy next to me at the bar Greg, or Gary, who'd been droning on about this deal for the last twenty minutes looked at me waiting for a response.

“That’s fantastic, congratulations on closing the deal.” You responded enthusiastically, faking it like an orgasm during bad sex. 

Sipping on the glass of wine he ordered, trying not to grimace at the taste and wondering for the umpteenth time what is it with men your age? Why did they feel entitled to decide what to order you without asking?

Now in your early forties you prefer men like your alcohol, on the younger side with an adventurous edge.

Tuning out ummm, David as he continues to prattle on about his whatever. He seems like a nice guy, kinda reminds you of that character from Pleseantville, the husband who kept saying where’s my dinner.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but I need to speak to Ms. Y/L/N.” You both turn to see who is addressing you.

 Fuck me, he’s here.

He and his partner, Agent Dean Smith, showed up your workplace this morning about the weird event in HR department. They had every red blooded woman, and a few of the guys, drooling in their lattes. 

After your interview with Agent Smith, who’d been flirting with everyone female with a pulse during their interviews, he asked you for drinks and whatever.

It had been extremely tempting, he was ridiculously good looking with those succulent full lips, green eyes, bowed just enough for you to fit perfectly between legs and cinnamon freckles that made you wonder if he’s covered everywhere in them.

You hated to admit it’s been to damn long since any man has giving you such a through fucking, you know, the type that makes your legs shake uncontrollably when you cum and walk funny for days.

You had reluctantly..very reluctantly.. turned him down. The reason being the man standing behind you.

“And who might you be?” Ralph maybe, asks rudely.

 Agent Samuel Wesson flashes his FBI credentials at possibly John before turning to addresses you. He’s delicious, literally walking sex with those long, long legs.

“Ms. Y/L/N, could we go somewhere more private? I have some questions that need clarification.”  Unable to answer because your brain has migrated to your pussy that’s dripping wet from the sound of his deep, whiskey-honey voice alone.

Crossing your legs you clenched your thighs together trying to cover your down south problem but he tracks your movement with those indelible, fox slanted eyes and smirks.

Shit.

“Look, I don't care if your President...” Steve, IDK, says standing up to get in his face but falls short, literally, by several inches.

Biting on the inside of your cheek to stop bursting out in laughter you take a sip of the horrid wine to compose yourself because there is absolutely no way in hell your going to pass up on the opportunity to make time with this gorgeous mountain of a man who’s literally made you cum without even touching you. 

Standing up you insert yourself between them and play with Donny’s tie. “I’m so sorry, we were having such a good time, and I was thinking of asking you back to mine, but I’d feel awful if I know something and didn't help, please don't be mad at me.” You pout a bit, pretending to actually sound sorry, all the while internally cringing at the fucking drivel spewing out of your mouth to mollify whatchamacallit.

If anyone had asked you how you thought this night would have ended, never in a million would you have said that you’d be reclining on the hood of a ‘67 Impala in an empty field splitting a bottle of Knob Creek Whiskey with Samual Wesson, IE Sam Winchester, discussing everything from politics to debating if GOT’s ending was screwed up while stargazing.

Sam takes a long pull off the bottle before handing it back, “Why did you turn Dean down?” He inquires.

“I’ve been around long enough to know a player when I see one,” you take a long pull from the bottle, “and I’ve reached an age where I don’t and won’t be played.” You answer honestly handing the bottle to Sam.

He’s taking a drink when you cheekily add, “Besides, he’s too old for me.”

Coughing from the whiskey going down the wrong way Sam finally croaks out, “To old? He’s three years younger than you.” You raise an eyebrow at that.

“You know how old I am?” 

Sam starts peeling off the bottles label, “Yeah, I do. I checked out everyone who had any connection to the victim. I didn’t think you’d be interested, Dean’s well...Dean. Women are always attracted to him but then he said you turned him down and....”

“...you followed me to that bar hoping to get lucky?” It’s hard to see under the moonlight but you know he’s blushing, “I’ll admit it was sorely tempting but I turned Dean down because you're more my type.” Sam looked up in surprise. 

You shift towards him reaching for the bottle, “Look, I like younger men, it's my thing and I find I have more in common with them. Nobody thinks twice about some old fart fucking a twenty something, but if an older woman is sexually adventurous, oh my god everyone goes spar! Lots of younger men today prefer being with someone who’s life doesn’t revolve around kids, can hold an intellectual conversation and isn’t looking to put a ring on it.

I came across this British blogger in her fifties dating men in their twenties and they were the ones doing the chasing. She came up with this new term for women like us, W.H.I.P-Women who are Hot, Intelligent and in their Prime. Fucking better than that old, tired, cliche Cougar.” 

Sam ruminants over what you said, “So sexually adventurous...ever do it on an Impala?” He asks with a lascivious grin.

”Nuh-uh,“ you answer running your tongue teasingly around the bottles lip before taking a drink. 

Sam's eyes dilate as he pulls the bottle away, brushing his lips against yours to taste the whiskey lingering on them.

Opening your mouth you catch his bottom lip, sucking on it as he tangles his hands into your hair, deepening the kiss as you work at opening the buttons of his shirt. Pushing against Sam's chest he sits back a bit so you can remove it before shifting him fully onto his back, allowing you to straddle his narrow hips and making your skirt ride up revealing your cheekster panties

Sam slips his hand between your obscenely spread thighs, roughly palming your clit through the material making you hiss, reaching to pull his hand away before your cumming to fast. He takes hold your ass in both of his big hands grips tightly pulling and pushing, making you roughly glide over his rapidly filling cloth covered cock. He’s keeping you right on edge but not allowing you to cum, the friction from the grinding eliciting moans from both of you. He sits both of you upright suddenly, gripping your shirts hem lifting it off revealing your bare breasts to him.

Sam bends forward taking your left nipple between his lips sucking on it then bits down hard enough you cry out from the pain/pleasure of it. Tangling both your hands in his hair you tug until he switches breasts to give the same treatment to your other nipple. Dragging him off your chest you resume kissing him hard, both of you start fighting for dominance.

Reaching down you unzip his pants, dipping your hand in to caress him. Sam's head drops back with a groan, exposing his neck. Your lips travel down his throat, stopping, sucking a bruise just above his collarbone.

Sliding backwards off the cars hood you finish stripping him until he's lying completely naked, legs wantonly spread out across the hood. You watch him grip his cock stroking himself as you discard the last of your own clothes before climbing back on the car.

“You’re stunning,” Sam breathily says stroking himself harder.

Keeping eye contact you place your hand over his, guiding him down to firmly grip the base of his twitching cock to steady it as you move your hands around on the hood to balance yourself, bending over to flick your tongue along the underside of his shaft up to that specific sensitive area, your tongue teasing the nerves there, making Sam shiver and noisily start panting before slowly sliding up to the slit, lapping at the precum leaking from the tip before wrapping your lips around his cock and start steadily bobbing up and down, taking his ample cock as deep as you can without gagging.

“Oh fuck yesss..feels so good,” Sam moans out as his muscles jerk from the way your tongue is moving over his cock that’s suctioned tight in your mouth.

Pulling off you stroke your hand up and down his long, thick shaft, twisting towards the tip while watching Sam massage his balls.

Sam's head thunks against the windshield as his breaths coming out harsh and broken, hips bucking wildly around from the combined stimulation.

“Fuckingfuck... fuuuu...gonna…’ was all the warning he gives before spilling hot liquid over your fingers and spurting onto the Impalas hood, painting it with white splatters as you continue stroking lightly with your cum covered fingers, easing him through the aftershocks till Sam reaches down pulling you off, to sensitive for anymore touching.

Sitting up Sam cups your cheeks in his big hands staring intently at you with lust blown chameleon eyes. “How the fuck did you do that, I haven’t cum that fast since puberty.”

Instead of saying anything, you insert your cum covered fingers one by one into you mouth, sucking and licking till your hands clean of his spending. He wraps his big hand around your wrist pulling your hand away and deeply kisses you, tasting himself in your mouth. 

“Backseat now.” He growls getting off the hood and still holding your wrist gathers the discarded clothes with his other hand before dragging you with him around the car.

Opening the door he urges you to slide across the bench seat until you lying back against the other door legs spread wide to accommodate him as he’s climbing between them, somehow fitting his immense frame in the car.

Sam runs his long, slender fingers along the inside of your thighs, over your hips and stomach, studying every tremble and shiver to his touch moving to lightly stroke between your folds, inserting two fingers into your soaked channel searching for that spot. “Hmmm..” You moan out as Sam finds it.

Somehow he amazingly folds himself up and spreading his fingers to stretch your opening to delve his tongue into your core wanting a taste while continuing to stroke your thighs and hips with his other hand to keep you stimulated.

“Fuuuccckk,” the only warning you can give as you climax.

Sam adjusts the movements of his hand to keep working your swollen g spot, pushing you towards another orgasm.

The car fills with the wet squelching sounds with his fingers moving in and out of your drooling cunt as nonsensical noises come out of your mouth at the same time. 

“Uhhh...to much….can’t…”  your barley able to pant out pushing on the seat back trying to get some leverage to move away from him.

“Yes you can, cum for me again, I want to see you squirt, ruin the seat.” Sam growls out pinning both of your hands in his left one against the doors window.

You can feel it starting deep inside, begging for release, but your massively overstimulated and your body keeps fighting it.

 “Just let go, I know you can,” Sam says in a calm, level voice, stark contrast to his animalistic actions, “let it happen…let go!” Your bodies shaking violently, hips thrusting up off the seat as your orgasm hits so hard you silently scream, your inner muscles spasming your release, flooding over his wrist and hand onto the leather seat below.

He briefly continues the steady movement of his fingers then gently pulls them out as your walls continue clenching around nothing.

Releasing your hands he picks up your discarded skirt wiping your overused pussy tenderly, cleaning you up as much as possible before lifting your hips and placing the old army blanket on the seat and lying down behind you spoons your quivering body till it’s calmed.

 “You ok?” He asks softly stroking your arm, soothing you. “Yeah, better than ok,” you drowsily murmur, “what possessed you to recreate the night we meet?”

“Wanted to do something special for our fourth anniversary.” He lovingly replies nuzzling your neck.

 “And your birthday,” you feel Sam make a face at being reminded he is now thirty-six. “Why is this one bothering you, they never have before.”

 “Its stupid,” he sighs, making you turn your head enough to look at him. “Dean noticed that grey hair and..”

“..gave you shit about it. You could ignore him.”

“Mission impossible, it’s Dean” Sam says, sighing again.

“Hmm, well then there's only one option...Winchester him.” You say looking serious.

Sam smiles at your suggestion. It had been to damn long since he had pranked Dean and payback was way overdue. 

“See, with age comes wisdom, grasshopper”

[cas-lost-grace]

I should be posting something longer, but I´m too busy for that. So here´s a little smutty thing I wrote for a prompt nobody actually sent (I read the wrong prompt number)

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

Destiel, explicit, office!AU, dom!Cas undertones

 Dean Smith is bent over his boss’ desk, showing off his ass in his tight dress pants, as he pretends to be looking for a paper clip. He’s not surprised by the slap landing on his asscheek, but the sting of it surprises him a little. He looks over his shoulder to see what he’s been hit with. It’s a plastic ruler. Castiel is still holding it in his hands, lightly slapping his left palm.

"I’m quite sure I explicitly told you not to tease me."

Dean turns around, propping his ass on the edge of the desk. He gives his boss a smug smirk. "I was not."

"If you’re trying to provoke me to spank you for lying, it’s not working."

Dean pouts. "Come on, Cas, I didn’t get off in days," he places his hands on Castiel’s shoulders trying to pull him closer. "This stupid case-"

"Isn’t over yet."

"I know, but we both deserve a break. We’re working so hard. Just a little distraction to freshen our minds."

"I said no, Dean. I hate distractions."

Dean sighs and bows his head. "I know, I just really miss you."

Castiel’s expression softens a little. He brushes his knuckles down Dean’s cheek. "But I’m here and I’m going to make it up for you once it’s over."

Dean turns his head, nuzzling at Castiel’s palm. He steps closer. "Sir, please, give me something. I’m hard just looking at you."

"Are you?" Castiel growls and pushes his hand between Dean’s legs. Dean gasps but grinds against his palm. He’s not actually hard, but getting there. He presses his lips to the side of Castiel’s neck and hisses when Castiel’s free hand tugs at his hair. He’s afraid Castiel will push him away but he kisses him instead, hard and filthy, leaving Dean gasping for breath when he pulls away. He squeezes Dean’s now fully hard cock through his pants. "How much do you wanna come?" he whispers into Dean’s ear.

"Cas, please, sir," Dean moans and tries to chase Castiel’s lips. Castiel steps away and sits down on his chair, leaning back comfortably, legs spread.

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh,” he says casually, grabbing his phone from the desk.

Dean stares at him wide-eyed. 

"Take it or leave it," Castiel adds, looking at the screen.

Dean hesitates a little before walking to the door and locking it. He opens his fly on his way back and pulls his pants down when he’s at the desk. Castiel’s eyes flick up to him, taking in the light blue lace straining over Dean’s cock. He doesn’t say anything, but Dean doesn’t miss the hungry spark in his eyes. He smiles and steps closer. He moves slowly, deliberately as he spreads his legs to straddle Castiel’s left thigh. Castiel watches him, his free hand grabs Dean’s hip automatically. His thumb brushes over the lace. Dean lets out a sigh as he seats himself, the lace rubbing against his sensitive skin.

He leans in to kiss Castiel, but his boss turns away. Dean stares in shock as Castiel dials a number of one of his business partners and puts the phone to his ear. He greets the man on the other end of the line like there’s nothing unusual about having your panties-wearing assistant perched on your thigh during a business phone call. When Dean doesn’t move, Castiel turns to him and raises an eyebrow.

Dean bites his lower lip, his eyes darting to the phone in Castiel’s hand. A shiver runs through his body, the weird excitement that comes with the risk of being exposed, the reason why Dean loves to be fucked in his boss’ office during work hours.

He braces one hand on Castiel’s shoulder and closes his eyes before he moves his hips, grinding down on Castiel’s leg. A soft moan leaves his lips and he snaps his eyes open. What if the man on the other end can hear him? He searches Castiel’s face for a silent reprimand but all he finds is an amused spark in his eyes. Dean takes it as encouragement and starts to hump Castiel’s leg in earnest.

He likes the friction, he expected that after days of abstaining because they were too busy with the case, it would be enough for him to come, but it’s not. He needs more, he needs the final push. The chair is creaking and his muscles are starting to burn with exertion. He might have to give up.

He’s not paying attention to what Castiel is talking about on the phone, but it startles him a little when he raises his voice. "Yes, please, go check that out. I’ll wait."

Dean looks up to see Castiel pulling his phone from his ear. He touches the screen and puts the phone down on the desk.

Dean doesn’t even realize he stopped moving before Castiel grabs the back of his neck and kisses him, using his hand on Dean’s hip to urge him to move again.

Dean moans into the kiss, pleasure surging up in him again. He presses his leaking cock harder against Castiel’s leg.

"Alright, I’m back," comes from the speaker of Castiel’s phone. Dean yelps in surprise. Castiel muffles the sound by pushing two fingers into Dean’s mouth. Dean sucks obediently as if it was Castiel cock and enjoys the dark look in Castiel’s eyes.

"Great, could you please read me the second paragraph?" he says, voice incredibly calm, eyes fixed on Dean. 

As the man on the phone reads, Castiel’s left hand moves from Dean’s hips, pushing under the waistband at the back. His middle finger slides down the crease of Dean’s ass and brushes over his hole. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, moaning around the fingers in his mouth and speeds up his grinding. Cas’ finger pushes just the slightest bit in and the sting of it pushes Dean over the edge. He trashes on his perch, spoiling his panties. Cas’ fingers slip of his mouth to be switched for his palm pressed against Dean’s lips as he throws his head back and moans.

When it washes away, he collapses a little, his head falling to rest on Castiel’s shoulder.

"I see where the problem is. I’ll send you a re-worked version tomorrow. Thank you for your assistance." He hears Castiel saying over the blood rushing in his ears.

The man says his goodbyes and the call ends with a ping.

Castiel runs his hand through Dean’s hair. "Are you okay?" he asks softly.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m great," Dean sighs and presses a soft kiss to Castiel’s jaw.

"You were right," Castiel admits. "I needed this."

Dean grins and leans in to kiss Castiel properly. 

He looks down on his softening cock in his wet panties and flinches. "Oh my god, I ruined your pants, I’m so sorry!" he cries out trying to get up. To his surprise, Castiel lets out a soft laugh and only pulls him closer.

"It’s okay. That’s why I keep spares in the office," he says before grabbing the back of Dean’s head and guiding him in for a kiss. Dean relaxes into it wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders. He shifts a little, his position growing uncomfortable, and brushes against the bulge in Castiel’s pants. It makes him grin against Castiel’s lips. The knowledge that Castiel was affected despite his cold facade brings up a warm feeling in Dean’s chest. Dean breaks the kiss to press his palm to Castiel’s erection.

"And what are we going to do about this, sir?"

There’s the dangerous spark in Castiel’s eyes that makes his opponents shiver. It makes Dean shiver too but for an entirely different reason.

"I think you should get on your knees and suck me off."

Dean grins and slips off Cas’ thigh to kneel between his spread legs. He nuzzles against Castiel’s cock, his mouth already watering. He looks up at the sound of Castiel’s voice. "But I need to make another call."    

[writtingsofspn]

I’ve got your back

Request: could you do an x reader where the reader is a young teenage girl who’s a bad ass solo hunter. In the hunters world there’s been talk about a solo hunter who is one of the best hunters of the century and sam and dean put two and two together and she saves their ass.

Pairings: Platonic all around

Warnings: Swearing probably but nothing more

A/N: As always feedback is very much appreciated. Also running low on requests so if you have any send ‘em my way!

You took a step out of the bathroom, breathing icy cold air for the first time in what felt like hours after having steamed up the bathroom with a shower that you had hoped would clear your head from the case. But of course it didn’t, you have been doing this long enough to not be surprised by that. Nothing quite took the edge off of a case for a few hours like being unconscious, if only it were easier to get to that state.

You threw your towel onto a nearby chair and put on some pajamas, grabbing a gun and checking through the blinds one last time, an unfortunate habit that had saved your life on more than one occasion.

You hadn’t expected to see anyone out there, you haven’t been on this case long enough to draw attention to yourself. But instead you were greeted with the sight of a grown man admiring your car parked just outside the window. Normally you wouldn’t have done anything about it but given that it was nearly midnight you felt you had reason to be suspicious.

Cautiously, you tucked your gun into the waistband of your pants and walked outside, clearing your throat loudly to catch the attention of the man “Can I help you with something?”

“Do you know who’s car this is” The man asked, tossing a quick glance in your direction before directing his gaze back to your car. A car you were rather proud and protective of.

“Mine” You answered simply, crossing your arms over your chest.

At this the man turned towards you with furrowed brows “Are you even old enough to drive that thing?”

You felt your jaw clench and your hands ball up into fists, beyond sick of jokes about your age. You hear enough of them in the hunting community you did not need it from some rando standing outside your hotel room. “That thing is a souped-up off road volvo and I recommend you show it, as well as it’s owner, some respect.”

“Get your Dad out here and I will”

“bold of you to assume it’s a man’s car” You could feel yourself smirk at him “not only do you blatantly ignore me when I tell you it’s my car but you automatically assume it’s a man’s car”

“No-I-uh-that’s not” You already had his stuttering, you fought off a smile as you tried to keep a straight face.

“Let me guess it’s cause women can’t be interested in cars” You prodded him further “no that’s a man’s job of course”

“Shut up”

“How eloquent”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of breaking the tension, knowing he had nothing else to say.

“Just tell your parents I like their car” He muttered before turning around and heading for the door right next to your own.

“Just me here asshole” You muttered before walking into your own room, slamming the door a bit harder than you probably should have.

-

“You got into a fight…with a little girl”

“Well I wouldn’t call her a little girl…”

Sam stared at his brother with raised eyebrows, silently waiting for him to continue the story, he desperately needed to defend himself better than this.

“She had to have been at least old enough to drive a car”

“That still doesn’t explain why you decided to pick a fight with her… in a motel parking lot… at midnight”

“Well if you say it like that it sounds ridiculous” Dean mumbled as he aggressively shoved hash browns into his mouth.

“Ok then how would you describe it?”

“…can we just focus on the case”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at his brother. Enjoying the picture of him getting his ass handed to him by a teenage girl in his mind.

“Police found a twelve year old boy ripped to shreds. They’re thinking it’s some animal in the woods.”

“Werewolf?” Dean asked.

“That’s what I’m thinking” Sam nodded as he pulled out his phone scrolling through the articles he had saved on it “but he’s not the first victim. My guts saying there are more than one of them”

“Great” Dean grunted, silently flagging down the waitress for another cup of coffee.

“We could always ask for help” Sam mused, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“From who?”

“Rumer has it that the nightingale is around here” Sam shrugged “We could give her a call”

“We’re not asking help from a hunter who doesn’t exist.”

“What makes you think she doesn’t exist?”

“Have you heard the stories?” Dean all but laughed “They’re ridiculous, there’s no way anyone is that good let alone some teenage girl”

“Considering you just got your ass kicked by one I wouldn’t be putting them down like that” Sam muttered, ignoring the glare Dean shot him. “Besides legends have to start somewhere. Maybe the stories aren’t 100% true but that doesn’t mean she’s not an amazing hunter”

“Regardless we can handle this we don’t need someone tacky enough to have the tagline ‘greatest hunter in a century’”

“you’re just jealous you don’t have it”

-

You hated research enough as it was, but being unable to gather it directly from the source made it so much worse. No matter how much makeup and pantsuits you put on you could never convince anyone you were someone of enough authority to give information to. Most assumed you were a kid playing dress up.

That didn’t mean you were through trying though. You were fixing bright red lipstick in the rearview mirror of your car parked outside of the police station. FBI badge ready in your pocket and lock picking kit in another one, you were prepared for any situation.

You kicked open your door and slid into heels that had no business being as high as they were when you stopped dead in your tracks, recognizing a certain light brown-haired man walking into the station in a cheap suit. Immediately you were running up behind him, heels in hand slipping them on just before you came into the building and planting yourself on a bench before anyone could notice you.

“Hi I’m agent Smith and this is agent Smith” The man introduced him and the tall man standing next to him, each flipping out FBI badges that looked remarkably like your own. “We’d like to talk to someone about the recent death of a twelve-year-old boy”

Immediately you put your head in your hands, doing your best to disguise yourself as a kid who got in trouble as the two men were led down a hallway to the chief. So they were here on the same case as you were. Your gut said they were hunters too, there wasn’t really a reason for the FBI to be here, but you sure as hell weren’t ready to take that risk.

You made quick glances around the lobby, careful to make sure the secretary wasn’t paying attention to you before you slipped down the hallway after the two agents, stopping in front of the chief’s door and pressing your ear to the wall, glad to know you could hear all that was going on within the room.

Eagerly you began taking notes, scribbling answers to all of the agents questions quickly before having to run off down the hallway at the sound of footsteps being taken in your direction from the room. Planting yourself back on the bench just in time for the three men to exit the chief’s office.

“I assure you gentleman your help is not needed, we have this all under control” The chief said as politely as possible, obviously having no clue how untrue that sentence really was.

“we just go where the burro tells us to, this is more a formality than anything” The man you had fought with tried to calm the chief, assuring him he was still top dog in his town before he made a move for the door, stopping as soon as he made eye contact with you, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too” You grunted, happy to see a smirk appear on the taller man’s face. “I’m Y/N”, you introduced yourself to him, already deciding you liked him better.

“Sam” The man shook your hand with smile much to his partners displeasure.

“Is there anything I can help you with little lady?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the chief’s nickname, putting on your best fake smile.

“No actually I already got what I needed. Thank you though”

“Well can we give you a ride back to the motel” Sam offered

“No thanks I have my car here” You smirked at his partner.

“Alright well if you need anything” Sam continued hesitantly “I hear we’re neighbors so don’t hesitate to come over”

“Thanks” You smiled at him before following the two of them outside. Feeling Sam’s partners eyes on you as you got into your car and pulled out of the lot.

-

The agents conversation had been a gold mine, so paired with the statements you got from the victims families, who thank god did actually talk with you, you had a good idea where the werewolves were hiding out.

You figured you could take care of them tonight and head out in the morning, word was there were some hunters who could be in need of some help just a few hours north of here.

A knock at your door startled you but you didn’t think twice before answering, almost figuring it was a pizza you had forgotten you’d ordered. Instead you found standing the two agent smiths standing there.

“Oh-uh-hey” You greeted them opening the door wide enough to show the rest of your body, not even thinking about the gun exposed in your holster on your thigh.

Sam’s partner, however, didn’t miss it, immediately drawing one of his own and pointing it right at you sending your hand to the handle of your own gun.

“Dude” Sam hissed, grabbing his partner by the elbow and pulling him into your room and shutting the door quickly.

“Why do you have a gun?” His partner demanded, dropping the aim slightly as he saw you weren’t going to point yours back at him.

“I’m a teenage girl alone in a motel room. I’d like a litter security” You lied easily, Afterall it was practically in your job description,

“What about all of this?” Sam asked pointing at a table covered in your research, god you were getting sloppy.

You paused for a moment, less prepared for this question “The latest victim, Trevor, he was a friend of mine”

You could tell neither of these answers flew well with the agents as Sam’s partner kept his gun trained on you.

“Look-“ You started to explain, ready to tell them you didn’t want any trouble and ask them to leave when Sam interrupted you.

“nightingale” He all but whispered, as if he were more explaining the situation to himself than you.

“Your hunters” It clicked as you dropped your hand from your gun.

“No way you’re the nightingale” Sam’s partner shook his head.

“In the flesh” You assured him with a slight smirk “and if you’re Sam then you’re Dean? Winchesters?”

“You know who we are?” Dean asked, finally dropping his gun to the floor and tucking it away.

“Everyone knows about the two responsible for nearly destroying the world god knows how many times” You chuckled.

“Oh, that” Dean muttered.

“Never mind it tho” You brushed the topic off tuning back to business “I think I know where the wolves are hiding out, I was just heading there now”

“Alright just go let us grab out stuff and we’ll be ready” Sam shrugged making eye contact with his brother checking with him silenetly

“Oh no” You quickly interjected before they could move anywhere “I usually work alone, usually safer that way”

“It’s our case too” Dean objected “plus we think there’s quite a few of them out there you can’t take them all out yourself”

“Sure I can” You shrugged “not something I haven’t done before”

“But now you don’t have to” Sam jumped in “we’ll have your back”

You bit your lip, partners have never really gone well for you but these guys were Winchesters, apocalypses aside they were known to be good hunters, surely it couldn’t hurt.

“Alright but we’re taking my car”

“Fat chance” Dean laughed before walking out of your room before you could argue any further.

-

You hoped out of the impala as soon as it parked, you had to admit it was a nice car, had a good classic feel but pride wouldn’t allow you to ever say that out loud.

“How many silver bullets you got?” You asked, checking your own clip.

“Bout a clip each” Sam answered, checking his own quickly.

“Me too but I’ve got about a dozen knives as well”

“Knives?” Dean questioned looking at you skeptically.

“They’re easy to throw and silent” You shrugged, “going in guns blazing definitely isn’t the best move here”

Sam just nodded in response, looking up at the abandoned building. “front or back you think?”

“We’ve got the man power for both” You followed his gaze “As long as we’re quiet and pick them off one by one we should be fine”

Dean nodded at you and cocked his gun. Accepting a few knives from you as you passed them around.

“Hey” he started awkwardly as Sam began walking towards the building “I’m Dean by the way”

“Yeah…I know” you furrowed your brow.

“Yeah I just figured, you’re gonna have to trust me tonight, I should really introduce myself at least”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought, extending your hand “It’s nice to meet you Dean, I’m Y/N”

Dean gladly shook your hand with a small smile “We’ve got your back tonight Y/N”

“I know, I’ve got yours too”

Dean nodded with a grin before turning on his heels and heading with his brother to the back of the building. You took up position in the front, giving the brothers ten seconds before you slipped into the building.

Immediately you ducked behind a chest of sorts, throwing a knife at the first thing that turned the corner, hitting one between the eyes knocking it to the ground. You ran towards the body and pulled the knife out of its forehead and turning the corner, throwing knives quickly and easily.

Everything was going perfectly, you had to have gone through a handful of werewolves at least, when a loud gunshot startled you. Immediately howls and long toenails scratching on hardwood echoed through the house.

You swore under your breath and ran towards the gunshot, knowing that wasn’t a good a sign. You arrived in the back of the house to see Sam on the ground with a wolf snarling and gnashing its teeth above him, gun kicked somewhere across the room. With no hesitation you fired at the wolf, the beast slumping over immediately allowing Sam to simply throw him off.

“Where’s Dean?’

“Upstairs” Sam panted, pushing himself to his feet.

“This floor’s clear lets go” You said making your way to the stairs, Sam right on your heels.

You quickly made your way down the hallway, clearing each room as you walked by it. Stopping as soon as you saw Dean stuck in the same position you found Sam in earlier. Again you fired easily at the wolf, helping Dean to his feet as he pushed the body off of him.

“Are there any more?” You asked him as he caught his breath.

Dean shook his head “Not that I saw”

“Alright cool” You laughed “That was easy”

The brothers looked at you, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they struggled to recover from nearly dying “right, easy”

“Alright well…” You began, dusting off your hands “didn’t think I’d ever say this but I’m glad we teamed up.”

“Believe me we are too” Dean chuckled as he led you back down the stairs.

“Well…” Sam mumbled, running a hand through his hair “what if we made it a usual thing”

“What do you mean?” You asked, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.

‘We’ve got a place” Dean jumped in “A permanent place, no more motel rooms”

“You could even go back to school if you wanted” Sam finished giving you what you could only call puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t know” You answered honestly, playing awkwardly with your hands “I’ve been alone for so long you know, it’s what I’m used to”

“We’re just saying we make a good team” Dean tried to explain, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder “so just think about it alright”

“Alright” You nodded, getting into the back seat of the impala, your gut already telling you what you should do.

[jinxthequeergirl]

Almost out

Quentin smith x reader

Summary: you trick Quentin into escaping freddy while you sacrifice yourself to buy him and Nancy more time

Warning: death! Cursing!

~~~~~

Quentin wouldn't let you sleep. He knew the toll freddy had taken on you and he knew how much you wanted to give up, how much you just wanted to dream and let freddy do what he did to dean, kris and Jessie but he refused to let you.

He knew your micronaps where getting more intense but still wouldn't let it happen until it was over. Until he knew you where safe. That's all that mattered.

He sat you down on the rickidy old bed after having to carry you in. You where to exhausted to function any more. "Just stay right there...here." he pulled out the medicain he stole from the hospital ready to inject it through your leg like he had to himself.

"Q n...no!" you pushed him away scooting back against the wall. "Hey Hey...alright just please don't fall asleep till me and Nancy are done here alright?"

You nodded bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your head on them and watched as they serched the cave.

You felt yourself drifting to sleep until Quentin let out an angry yell jolting you awake fully.

"I took his sweater...maybe I'm the only one who can being him here and from there-"

"Why dont I help?" you asked groggily.

"No...(y/n) stay with Quentin...he'll make sure you stay awake and I wake up when needed right?"

Quentin nodded and pulled you into the chair next to him and grabbed the blade of a paper cutter as Nancy climed into the bed and began to let herself drift to sleep.

You curled up next to Quentin with your legs swung over his lap and head rested against his shoulder. "It'll be over soon enough you know?..." you clenched his shirt and hummed in resposense.

Your eyes grew heavy once again until it finally took and you sat on the floor of a bright red boiler room. Your brain finally processed where you where. "Nanc!?...Nancy are you in here?"

You pushed yourself to your feet looking around for a sign that some one else was there.

"Nanc?...Freddy?..." You wondered around the area hearing nothing but the hiss of pipes Until a voice filled the air.

"Freddy." you sneered and grabbed a piece of pipe from under one of the completed pipe sets and ran around the corner to see freddy ready to kill Quentin.

"NO!" He stopped and turned to you with a wicked grinn. "Looks like your girlfriend came to play after all."

Quentin looked at you exhausedly. "(y/n)...." You ran and swung the pipe at freddy but he ducked while he was down you drove it down to hit the top of his head before kicking him. "Quentin run!" He quickly ran down one of the isles and you followed after catching his hand in your once you caught up to him and pulled him down through another one.

"So you wanna play his n' seek do ya!?" you both stopped in a corner to hide. Freddy dragged a finger across a pipe making you both wince from the awful sound.

You turned to Quentin frowning at his damaged state. "Here's what's gonna happen." you took both his shoulders and keep your voice low.

"You need to wake up and keep an eye out on Nancy if he's got you that's the first thing he's gonna do....but if I but you time to wake up you can be there for her!"

"No I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed!...I still need you!"

You looked at him with the warmest smile you could muster up. "I know but I can't do this any more..."

"It's almost over. I know it! He's almost gone i-"

"Its not just him quen...I just can't do any of it...just let me do this, you and Nancy are so much more important and whatever happens to me happens if not..."

"(y/-"

"One, two! Freddys coming for you!" freddy voice rang out from not to far away.

You grabbed Quentin face in your hands and kissed him. "I love you...and everything I'm doing...and I did it was for you ok?"

A tear fell from Quentins cheek. "Please don't do this..."

You kissed him again And spoke against his lips. "Wake up sleepy head." and bit down hard enough on his lip to wake him up.

He jolted awake next to your sleeping body bringing a hand to touch his sore lip that was now bleeding and looked back to you. "(y/n) Please Don't do this!" He took you in his arms and attempted to shake you awake. "(y/n) please!"

You took a breath before stepping out from your corner and shouting as loud as you could. "GET KRUGER! COME GET ME!" you ran the way you came dragging the pipe you had along the wall of pipes. You looked behind you to see if he was there. Nothing.

You looked straight ahead and found him standing there at the exit.

"You Fucking asshole!"

"Wha! Language young lady."

You narrowed your eyes and ran straight at him hitting him across the face. "Never touch him again!" you continued to smash at his face but he just laughed until he grabbed the pipe and pulled you twoards him.discarding the piece of meteal And holding your wrist. "And who's gonna stop me..."

You let out a small painfilled gasp And look at down at your stomach where freddy hand had pierced. "If your dead?" he pulled out pushing you away from him to hit the floor.

"NO! (y/n)!" Quentin held you in his arms sobbing holding a hand over your wound still trying to wake you up. "(y/n) you can't do this! You can't leave me!...I love you So damn much! Please don't go! We where almost out everything was going to be fine...!

[thewritingsofafemalehunter]

Blood and Love Part one

Warnings: none

Word count: 2241

Paring: (eventual) Vampire Dean x Reader

“Move please! Excuse me! Out of the way!” A (h/c) haired girl shouted as she pushed her way down the busy sidewalk her hair in complete disarray, her clothes wrinkled, and a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Excuse me!” (Y/N) shouted pushing her way through the crowd. Why was she in such a hurry? That is a good question and that would be because she had slept through her alarm and was now running late for work, and if she didn’t hurry her boss was going to have her ass. Her heart pounded inside her chest, and there was a slight burn in her lungs from the two block run to the office and the run down several flights of stairs in her apartment building as she run into the office building. People turned to look in her direction but she paid no attention to them as she ran past the secretary desk and to the elevator bank.

“You’re late again (Y/N)! Smith will have your ass!” The secretary called after her.

“Shut up Milly!” (Y/N) shouted behind her as she repeatedly hit the up button for the elevator in an attempt to get it to come faster. Eventually the elevator dinged and the doors open and (Y/N) basically dives into the elevator hitting the right number for her floor, jabbing her finger into the close door button she watched the doors closed. Bouncing slightly she watched the floors seemingly pass by so slowly until the doors dinged, she had taken one step out of the elevator when a booming voice shouted from across the floor.

“(Y/L/N)!” Her boss shouted and (Y/N) cringed freezing where she stood as she looked up and across the office space. Silence fell of the office as people tried to discreetly look over their cubicle walls and at what was going on.

“Yes sir?” (Y/N) asked, her hands shaking where they were clutching at the strap of her bag as she looked at her boss. He stood there menacingly glaring at her and she knew what was going to get it this time, she just hoped she didn’t lose her job this time.

“My office. Now.” He growled turning around and walking into his office. (Y/N) stood there for a couple of minutes before she was actually able to force herself to start walking towards her boss’ office which seemed like it took an eternity to get there. As she passed people gave her sympathetic looks all of them knowing how horrible it was to be called into the boss's office, and she gave them all a small nervous smile. Pausing outside her boss’s door she rolled her shoulders back and stood up straight trying to prepare herself for what was about to come before she walked inside.

“You wanted to, ah, see me sir?” She asked as she closed the door behind her and her boss nodded.

“Yes please take a seat we have some things to discuss.” Her boss motioned to the chairs in front of him, his voice filled with anger and annoyance despite how calm he seemed. Timidly (Y/N) walked forward and sat in one of the seats, her hands playing with her bag.

“So I’m sure you know about my policy with lateness yes? And how I don’t tolerate it?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yes sir.” She said and he nodded, steepling his fingers as he leaned forward towards her.

“Then why the hell were you late Miss. (Y/L/N), if you are so aware of the rules wouldn’t you want to be early?” He asked a hard glare on his face and (Y/N) nodded.

“Yes sir.” (Y/N) answered not wanting to anger him anymore.

“Then why the hell were you late?” He asked a sort of growl in his voice as he looked at her and she gulped nervously playing with the strap of her bag again.

“Well you see sir I didn’t mean to be late, I just I slept through my alarm and it was a stupid mistake and it won’t happen again.” (Y/N)’s whole body tensed in preparation for him to tell her that she was fired.

“It better not because if it happens again you are fired (Y/L/N)  and you’re working late tonight in order to make up for your tardiness for tonight.” He said and (Y/N) bit her tongue not wanting to argue with him and actually manage to get herself fired.

“Yes sir.” She nodded and he smiled in return.

“Fantastic, you can leave at nine, now get to work.” He waved her off and she stood up gritting her teeth in agitation. Fuming she walked back to her desk, ignoring the amazed looks she got from her coworkers as she passed. Sitting down at her desk she had to stop herself from slamming her stuff down on the desk, turning on her computer she turned to look at her work friend when they hissed at her.

“Hey, hey, how’d it go? How come you’re not fired?” Her friend asked and (Y/N) sighed looking at her.

“Horrible and I have no idea why he didn’t fire me but instead of firing me he decided to make me work an extra three hours as punishment and I’m sure I won’t get paid over time.” (Y/N) grumbled as she returned her attention to her computer while her friend cringed.

“Oh jeez that sucks man.” Her friend said and she nodded while making the ‘no shit’ face.

“Yeah I know.” (Y/N) said and she sighed running a hand down her face as she looked over at her still trying to wake up.

“I’m gonna go get a coffee.” (Y/N) mumbled as she stood up from her desk to go and get a crappy cup of coffee from the break room.

~Hours later~

(Y/N) sat back in her desk chair running her fingers through her hair, the office was deathly quiet everyone having gone home two hours ago including her boss leaving her and the janitor that she hasn’t seen since he passed through collecting trash. And if she was being honest it was all kind of creepy the silence, she had only been after hours once or twice and that was only for half an hour or so but at that time there was always a bunch of other people here so this was creepy as all hell. She was honestly waiting for something to jump out at her as she stood up from her desk to stretch her legs. She had finished what little paperwork she had left over from the day about an hour ago and now she was left her in boredom with nothing left to do but mess around on the few websites still allowed on her work computer. The ringing of her phone nearly caused her to jump out of her skin in fright and she spun around to face her desk where her phone sat ringing loudly, the sound echoing around the silent office.

“Son of a bitch.” She muttered under her breath as she walked over to her desk answering the phone when she saw that it was her friend.

“Hey (Y/F/N), what’s up?” She asked sitting back down at her desk and swiveling around slightly as she looked around the office, glad that the entire place was lit and she hadn’t been left in darkness.

“Hey, are you buy tonight?” (Y/F/N) asked with barely hidden excitement and (Y/N) frowned slightly wondering what her friend had planned for the night.

“Ah sort of I’m stuck here at work until nine because I showed up late.” (Y/N) answered spinning around slowly her head back to stare up at the ceiling.

“Oh god that sucks, but also that’s good because that means you’re already dressed and in town.” (Y/F/N) said and her brow furrowed at that.

“What the hell does that mean?” (Y/N) asked and (Y/F/N) giggled in excitement worrying (Y/N) greatly because usually they didn’t do that unless they were plotting something.

“It means, me and a couple of the other girls were planning on going out to the new bar in town and we were wondering if you’d care to join us for a night on the town.” It was more of a statement than a question and (Y/N) paused debating on wether or not she should go out with them. In all honesty she really needed a drink right now, work had been hell today. Her boss had been a total hard ass to her all day, yelling at her if he caught her away from her desk, giving her more work than she needed to do, glaring at her whenever he walked past his desk, nit picking her work and it was honestly all driving her crazy. She desperately needed a way to calm down and relax from this hard day and she didn’t smoke so having a night out with the girls was the next best thing.

“Sure why not, when are we meeting?” (Y/N) asked as she looked at the clock to see that it was two minutes from nine.

“Nine thirty, think you can be there in time?” (Y/F/N) asked and (Y/N) was nodding as she shut down her work computer and shoved her things into her bag, her phone cradled between her ear and shoulder.

“Yes actually it’s the new one that opened on second street right?” (Y/N) asked slinging her bag over her shoulder and going to clock out.

“Yep that’s the place, alright see you there.” (Y/F/N) said and (Y/N) smiled despite her friend not being able to see her.

“See ya.” She responded as she hung up the phone and slipped it into her pants pocket before walking over to the elevator bank. She sighed in relief as she stepped into the elevator her shoulders relaxing as she pressed the ground floor button and leaned against the wall. She wasn’t going to lie she was actually a little excited about going out to get drinks with the girls, even if she knew that it would most likely end with her making sure all of her friends got home safe. Either way she was determined to have fun desperate to relax after today. She practically skipped out of the elevator in happiness as she headed towards the front doors, walking outside the door slamming closed behind her.

“Oh shit, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to walk into you.” (Y/N) said as she looked up at the handsome stranger she had walked into not twenty minutes into her walk to the bar. Her cheeks flushed both from the rush to get to the bar on time and embarrassment.

“No, no, it’s alright there was no harm done.” The stranger responded his voice gruff as he looked down at her slightly. She paused before speaking again to caught up in staring at his eyes that looked like they had little flecks of gold hidden among the green shaking her head she cleared her throat and stepped back.

“Right well, I have to go, sorry again for walking into you.” (Y/N) waved nervously before she hurried on her way, the eyes of the green eyed stranger seemingly burned into her memory because she found herself remembering the way those eyes looked the whole time she walked to the bar.

~Dean’s P.O.V~

Dean tensed when he felt another body basically crash into him, his hands curling into fists as he clenched them at his sides forcing his claws to not grow as the delicious scent of blood filled his nose. There was a weird undertone of something sweet and salty to that scent that definitely wasn’t sweat or fear, but it was an undertone that threatened to trigger his blood lust. He stared ahead for a couple of seconds fighting to keep himself under control, he was supposed to be undercover meant to not draw any attention to himself. He barely heard what she was saying and once he had himself under control he looked down at the girl and had his heart been beating he was sure it would have stopped because that girl was beautiful. Her eyes were an amazing (e/c) that had him entranced along with her (h/l) (h/c) hair that framed her face perfectly in his opinion. Finally his brain recognized what she was saying.

“No, no, it’s alright, there was no harm done.” He responded brushing off her apology and there was a pause before she spoke again her face flushed slightly, and internally he smirked at the sight finding it adorable how embarrassed she was for staring into his eyes. A second after that thought came too he shoved it away, he could afford to think about a mortal as anything but food, couldn’t afford to get attached it would end well he knew that.

“Right well, I have to go, sorry again for walking into you.” She waved awkwardly as she scurried off and Dean watched her go a small smile on his face. He may have not been able to afford to get attached to the mortal but he certainly wouldn’t mind running into her again.

[crispychrissy]

Shrink - Chapter 19

Summary: When patients of a psychiatrist that caters exclusively to hunters start going crazy and dying, Sam and Dean Winchester investigate what might be causing these bizarre episodes. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Ellen Barnes Word Count: 2400 Warnings: Cliff hangerrr A/N: My first fanfic! This is going to be a series, probably over 30 chapters total. Any feedback is appreciated, I am a newbie!

"Ellen...." "Ellen, wake up." Sam placed his hand on Ellen's left shoulder. She was on her side bundled up in the blankets on Sam's bed. Her eyes shot open then blinked rapidly as Sam gently shook her. "Wha-" Ellen muttered, sluggishly rubbing her eyes with her hands. She looked around, disoriented, noticing she had somehow moved from Dean's bed to Sam's. Noticing her confusion, Sam smiled and sat down next to her on the bed. "When it was my turn to keep watch, Dean didn't want to sleep in my bed....for...obvious reasons." Sam cautiously slid his hand under the blanket and began to lightly brush his fingers along the outside of Ellen's upper thigh. "So, I moved you into my bed." Ellen reached her hand down under the covers, placing it over Sam's. She smiled and interlaced her fingers between his. "Go ahead and get dressed, I'll wake Dean." Sam said, removing his hand and standing up. Ellen nodded and stretched her arms up, involuntarily letting out a rather loud but raspy squeak as she yawned. Dean sat up and jolted to life before Sam had a chance to wake him, his pistol waving wildly in his hand.

"Whoa, Dean! Relax!" Sam yelled with both hands up in surrender, startled at his brother's sudden movement. Dean sighed and grunted, dropping his pistol onto his bed and slamming his face back into his pillow. "Get up, dude. We gotta go. It's already 8:15. I got you breakfast." Sam said as he slapped Dean's right foot that was hanging over the edge of the bed. Ellen threw off the covers, slowly stood up, and limped her way over to the bathroom. Her skirt and shirt were neatly folded and placed on the small side table in the corner of the bathroom in front of the toilet. She smiled, knowing that had to have been done by Sam. She closed the door behind her and slipped off Sam's boxers, ready to get dressed into her torn clothing again. Dean rolled to his side and lazily sat up, practically dislocating his jaw with how wide he yawned. He stood up and walked over to the table, his eyes still half closed. He pulled one of the coffee cups from the tray on the table and took several sips, smacking his lips together after each sip. "Mmm." Dean moaned, sighing heavily, while absently scratching at his now-substantial beard. "You're still not going to shave that thing, are you?" Sam asked, also pulling a cup from the tray and taking a sip. "Not unless you get a haircut. You know my term, Sammy." Dean replied before digging around in the paper bag sitting on the table next to the tray. "Unless a monster does it for me, not gonna happen, Dean. You look ridiculous. At least brush it, dude." Sam said, motioning to the tangled mess of hair that was Dean's beard. "I think it suits him. Rustic and out of control. It makes you look like a young Chuck Norris." Ellen said as she opened the door and emerged from the bathroom, Sam's shirt and boxers in her left hand. She limped toward the table, pausing a moment to throw the shirt and boxers on Sam's bed. "Don't encourage him." Sam said, pulling the last coffee from the tray and handing it to Ellen. Ellen smiled and took a sip of the coffee. It was stronger than she expected, causing her to groan slightly and raise her eyebrows. "Hunter's coffee. It can wake the dead." Sam handed her a foil wrapped sandwich. "Bacon, egg, and cheese. Is that okay?" "You had me at bacon." Ellen took the sandwich from him and smiled again. She limped a few more steps and sat down at the table before unwrapping the sandwich. The next half an hour seemed to blink by. Dean and Sam had both taken very quick showers and got dressed in their suits. Ellen was stationary at the table the entire time, casually flipping through the lore book Sam had given her whilst she finished her coffee and sandwich. "Ready to go?" Sam said, breaking the silence in the motel room. Ellen nodded and stood up, steadying herself on the table before removing her suit jacket off the back of the chair and sliding it on. All three left the motel room, climbed into the Impala, and departed less than a minute later. "Can we stop at my office so I can grab some clothes? I don’t really want to walk in public like this." Ellen said from the backseat, looking down at her torn and blood stained outfit. "You're not coming inside. Me and Sam are going to handle it." Dean said, narrowing his eyes at Ellen in the rear-view mirror. "What? Why?" Ellen said, staring back at Dean in the mirror. "You're too close to this. If it comes down to it and Natalie our doer, do you really want to watch us gank her?" Dean said. "Dude, come on." Sam groaned. Ellen crossed her arms and stared out the window, tuning out the argument that had erupted between the brothers. A few minutes later, Dean reluctantly agreed after a short and heated debate with Sam. After a short stop at Ellen's office so she could change into the spare business outfit she kept in her office closet, they were all back on the road heading toward Natalie's apartment. Located in a more rural part of Tulsa, Natalie's apartment sat directly above John & Marie's Music Store Galore, just had Ellen said. The bright red neon sign that said "REPAIRS" in the window of the store flickered as Dean glided the Impala to a stop on the opposite side of the street from the store. "You have to go through the store to get to the apartment." Ellen said as she opened her door and stepped outside. Dean and Sam opened their doors in unison and also stepped out, both brothers carefully studying the building in front of them. "Let us do the talking. You're a new intern which is why you don't have a badge yet." Dean grumbled through a clenched jaw, still obviously reluctant about bringing Ellen. "Actually...I do have a badge." Ellen said, pulling a FBI badge out of the jacket pocket and showing it to Dean and Sam. Sam raised an eyebrow and took it from her. Both brothers studied the badge carefully, flipping it open and closed and running their fingers along the stitching. "Not bad, looks legit." Sam said, folding the badge closed and passing it back to Ellen. "Birthday present from a hunter named Garth. Nice guy, loves hugging." Ellen replied cheerfully, sliding the badge back into her pocket. Sam and Dean exchanged wide-eyed glances before smiling. "I take it you know him?" Ellen replied, seeing them exchange looks. "Yeah, we do. We've worked with him a few times." Sam replied. “He’s a sweet guy. And….by the way…I won’t need the badge. Both John and Marie know me and know Natalie works for me.” Ellen said, shrugging. “Right.” Sam nodded before looking at Dean. “We’re going to have to be Agent Smith’s again. They own a music store, they’ll see right through Van Zant and Rossington.” “Yup. You ready?” Dean said, looking at Ellen. "Let's ramble on, boys." Ellen said as she strode past both brothers and across the street, flashing a cheeky smile at Dean. Sam nudged Dean's shoulder with his and smiled as they walked across the street to catch up with Ellen. "Get out of my head, woman." Dean grumbled quietly. Ellen opened the glass door in the front of the store, holding it open so Sam and Dean could enter first. The store was a little bit bigger than the size of the bunker's library, and just as orderly. Records, CD's, magazines, and other music paraphernalia were spread all over the store, neatly packed and organized into over a dozen separate bins throughout the area. There were posters of various 70's and 80's rock stars all over the walls, some signed and framed. Dean stopped a few feet inside the store and took a deep breath in. "Ahhh. Smell that? The musty cardboard aroma of records. Pure heaven." Dean said, a smile creeping across his face. He made his way through the rows of records on the shop floor, stopping and turning when he spotted the familiar white brick pattern of a Pink Floyd album. He reached his hand out and slid the plastic covered album out from the stack it was in and gazed at it, running his fingers along the cover. It was in almost pristine condition. "Come on, Dean. Focus." Sam hissed at his brother, trying to redirect his attention. Dean sighed and slid the album back into the spot he pulled it from, the smile vanishing from his face. He turned and continued walking down the aisle toward the counter at the back of the store. The three of them turned to the left after the last bin of CD's, stopping at the glass counter in the corner. A large black curtain covered a doorway to their right. Sam shifted back and forth, peering through the curtain, spotting a set of stairs straight back on the far wall. "Can I help you?" A voice spoke from the back room behind the counter. Moments later, a man appeared, wiping his grease covered hands on an old rag. He appeared to be in his mid-sixties, tall and slender, with short silver hair and a salt and pepper beard covering his face. Sam and Dean both reached into their jackets and pulled out their badges, showing them to the man behind the counter. "Agents Smith and Smith, no relation." Dean said, pointing at himself, then to his brother. "And you already know Dr. Barnes." "Agents. Doc." The man nodded at both Sam and Dean before looking at Ellen. "How's the guitar?" "Beatle is fine, John. Thanks for fixing her up." Ellen said with a soft smile. “You named your guitar ‘Beatle’?” Dean grumbled at Ellen. “Yeah, sue me.” Ellen snapped back at him. "It’s a free country, son. I’m glad to hear she’s all good. Now what does the FBI want with a mom-and-pop music store?" John said, still wiping the grease from his hands. "Have you seen Natalie recently, John?" Sam asked, pulling his notepad and a pen out of his jacket pocket. "I saw her yesterday, late afternoon. Not sure what time, but it was before we closed...so had to have been before five." John said, dropping the rag on the counter and sitting down in the stool behind him. "Did you speak to her at all?" Sam asked. "No, she practically ran past me and into the back, she lives upstairs in apartment one." John paused for a moment before standing up. "What's going on? Why are you asking about Natalie?" "Someone broke into my office and attacked me...and now she's missing. We want to make sure she's okay, John." Ellen said, stepping forward between Sam and Dean, placing her hand on the counter. John's eyes went wide as he quickly spun around and grabbed a set of keys off a hook next to the light switch on the back wall. He made his way around the counter and sprinted through the curtain. Once he was a good distance ahead, Ellen turned and walked through the curtain, Sam and Dean behind her. "John and Marie pretty much adopted Natalie. They know her background and how hard her life has been, so they've been keeping an eye on her ever since she moved in." Ellen whispered as they walked. Dean nodded and started up the stairs first, followed by Sam, then Ellen. John was already at the top of the stairs waiting for them. The walkway wrapped around in a U-shape, leading to two doors. The first door, marked with the number one, was in the middle of the wall to their right...the other door was at the end of the walkway, marked with a number two. John walked a few steps to the first door, fumbling around with the keys in his hand. A few seconds later, he held a single key in his fingers and reached down, inserting it into the lock. "John..." Dean whispered as he slid his pistol out from the back of his waistband and pointed it at the ground. Dean flicked his wrist and gun at John, motioning for him to step back, the key still unturned the lock. John nodded and complied, stepping back a few feet. Sam stepped forward, sliding past Dean, positioning himself on the left side of the door frame, opposite his brother. He also pulled his pistol from his waistband and nodded. Sam switched his pistol from his right to his left hand and slowly turned the key inside the lock with his free hand. With a muffled click, the lock disengaged. Sam looked at Dean and began to whisper a countdown. A beat after he reached one, Sam turned the doorknob and firmly pushed the door open. Dean entered first, his gun raised, sweeping left to right as he stepped inside. Sam entered shortly after, his gun lowered until Dean was no longer in front of him. Dean began walking to the left toward the bedroom as Sam stepped forward into the living area, both of them making no noise as they made their way around the apartment. Dean was halfway into the bedroom when he heard Sam's voice come from the living area. "Dean." Dean emerged from the bedroom to meet his brother, who was standing next to the worn out couch in the middle of the room. Sam sighed as he slid his pistol back into his waistband. Dean came around the left side of the couch before being greeted by a familiar iron smell he knew all too well. "Son of a bitch." Dean said, sliding his pistol into his waistband and letting out a heavy sigh. Sam and Dean exchanged looks before they looked down at the floor. Natalie's body was slumped over on her right side in front of the couch, covered in blood from the three large stab wounds that were evident on her torso. A large pool of blood was spread across the dirty white carpet in front of her.