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deansdelicate · 2 months

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I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER II: WATCHING YOU FOR AGES

seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader

word count: [8.5K]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, mentions of having a baby out of wedlock (steph and paul), slight allusions to anxiety/loneliness, flirting (you don't even have to squint), mostly a light-hearted, domestic chapter <3

🎧 the soundtrack

summary: You're still getting accustomed to the fast life that comes with working for WWE, but it's all starting to settle down and you're beginning to feel like you belong with each day that passes—and it sure does help when a special someone is always going out of their way to make sure you know it too.

Seth and the rest of the superstars sat patiently on the shuttle bus, awaiting one last person before they could head to the arena for the night’s taping of SmackDown. It wasn’t often that they got to travel as one big group, but it was always something he took up when possible.

Usually the procedure was driving themselves to and from cities, hotels, and arenas, but now that Paul was in charge, he did his best to work in bus accommodations in order to give talent the slot to relax before shows. But even then, some opted to drive themselves, like Roman who was missing from his usual seat beside Seth.

“Who are we even waiting for?” Xavier complained, standing up to scan the area, trying to detect who exactly was holding them up.

“I’m surprised it isn’t you,” Seth cackled over at Finn who was notoriously known for being chronically late to every bus ride.

The Irish lad rolled his eyes. “Whoever has me beat is far more a mess.”

“Mr. Driver, can we get this show on the road?” piped Kofi with a clap as all the superstars agreed, preferring to get to the arena before doors so they could all get situated.

The driver looked up in the rear-view mirror, laughing shortly with the shake of his head. The superstars grumbled, patience dwindling by the second, trying to pinpoint who was the culprit of them running behind and making a pact to bar them from any future bus rides.

It wasn’t unusual for a crowd to gather outside the hotel—many of them children accompanied with their parents to get autographs and photos if they weren’t able to snag tickets to the show. But this time around, the crowd felt larger, more amateur photographers scattered throughout, which was odd considering it wasn’t a pay-per-view event.

“Oh, shit…” Big E singsonged, leaning out of his seat towards the window to see what all the ruckus was about as the fans’ cheers got louder.

Security surrounded you closely, keeping their arms outwards to stop people from getting too close to you. You happily waved at everyone, pausing for the kids who asked for autographs and selfies, making small talk with them before you waved goodbye and continued following the security.

“This way, Ms. Levesque.” One of the guards escorted you towards the doors of the bus, holding it open and ensuring you’d get in safely.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a tight smile, giving each of them a handshake for going out of their way for you.

“Hi! I’m so sorry for the holdup,” you apologized sincerely, turning to meet the driver, “They just wanted to make sure we were clear to go ahead.” You explained, extending your hand.

The man reassured you with a comforting shake of his head and meeting your hand gently. Your father was extremely protective of you, therefore many, if not all drivers and security crew of the company were well aware of the procedure of making sure you got where you needed to be safely no matter how long it took.

“You are precious cargo, Ms. Levesque. Have a seat and I’ll get us to the arena promptly.” He directed, gesturing you to get comfortable wherever you pleased.

Passing through the aisle, you smiled and said your ‘hello’s’ to everyone, most were surprised that you were joining them, considering that you were almost always a driven separately.

But what they didn’t know was that you had to practically beg your father to switch transportation for the day, simply wanting to be around everyone instead of being chauffeured to every event, which was starting to become a little lonely.

Seth sat in the last row of the bus, an empty seat beside him catching your eye. You paused in the aisle, pointing to the space with a hopeful smile.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” you asked timidly, crossing your fingers he didn’t mind you invading his space.

He immediately bopped his head, patting the seat.

“Course, here, let me help you.” He offered, holding his arms out towards you to take your things so that you could get settled with the fuss.

“Thanks.” You breathed a sigh of relief, passing him your purse and laptop.

You slid into the seat and buckled in before retrieving your stuff, your eyes meeting Seth’s with a grateful expression when his fingers brushed against yours for a split second.

“I hope you guys weren’t waiting too long,” you apologized, placing your purse on the ground between your feet.

He shook his head, leaning back into his seat. “Nah, we weren’t waiting long. Plus, it’s always a pleasure to be waiting for the princess herself.”

You giggled, brushing your hair over your shoulders then laying your head against the rest. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

The bus began moving en route to the arena that was a good twenty-five minutes away, giving you enough time to look over the script that you had been working on since what felt like forever ago. It was a part of an assignment your dad had you complete ting—writing four original scripts for the main roster, three of which focused on superstars who needed a bit more of character development.

The three completed scripts were met with praise by your dad alongside a number of producers and fellow writers who thought you were able to curate a story worthy enough to be showcased on TV. The remaining storyline, however, was a challenge—a romantic one.

You had been circling back to early storylines that involved romance, and while they were entertaining and good TV, they all felt one dimensional.

Therefore, you challenged yourself to come up with a script that would allow both leads to shine without acting as if their relationship was the only thing that existed. Sure, it was a longshot your dad would approve of it since TV hadn’t seen a romance trope in a while, but you wanted to take the risk and give it a shot.

“Important business?” Seth peered past your shoulder, raising his brow at your screen that had an overwhelming volume of text splayed across it.

You gawked up at him, nodding with a light laugh. “Just my final assignment.”

He looked at you, confused, feigning concern. “Final assignment? Did I miss the memo or something?”

You swung your head as you giggled, stopping your typing in order to show him exactly what you were up to.

“It’s the last storyline I’m writing for my dad to approve. I’ve been working on it for a while and now I’m just trying to polish it up for him.” You explained, tilting the screen towards him as you scrolled through the document.

“Whose it for?” he wondered, genuine curiosity in his eyes as he read a short fragment.

You rolled your shoulders with a shrug.

“To be honest, I don’t even have any particular superstars in mind. It’s very vague, but the details and sequencing are all there.”

“Well, if you’re writing it, I’m positive it’ll be worthy of Paul’s green-light.” He said confidently, his tone sincere, hoping it would make you feel slightly better to know he was rooting for you.

“I hope so,” your voice soft, exchanging tight smiles before you turned your attention back to work, trying to ignore the feeling of Seth’s eyes peering at you every so often while you typed away.

The bus ride was the perfect change of scenery even if it was just for a little while. It had been a bit lonesome traveling all by yourself and with the presence of everyone else you started to feel like you could get into the groove of things. Even if you weren’t involved in the conversation, the chatter of everyone cracking jokes made you grin through the work.

As the bus parked out back, the driver promptly exited to get the undercarriage opened so that talent could retrieve their luggages. Everyone stayed in their seats, just getting up to stretch their legs.

A security personnel poked their head into the bus, scanning the area until they saw you.

“Ms. Levesque, we’re going to escort you into the building.”

You acknowledged them with a nod, swiftly closing your laptop and gathering your things.

“How come we don’t get an escort too?” Kofi frowned, eliciting amusement from the entire bus, including yourself.

“Because I’m not a professional wrestler who could easily defend herself against crazed fans.” You half-joked with a pout.

“Noted.” Kofi replied with a smirk, flexing his arms and taking what you said as a compliment.

You shook your head with a laugh, turning back to Seth, who had been watching closely visibly seeing that now you were breaking out of your shell and learning everyone’s personalities.

“I’ll see you inside?” You proposed, getting up from your seat.

He nodded, knocking his knuckles against the window behind him. “See you in there.”

You twiddled your fingers goodbye before you walked through the aisle towards the front of the bus where security was already waiting.

“Bye everyone! I’ll see you inside,” you called out to everyone, waving as you exited and followed security through the surveillance screening to get into the arena.

After retrieving his bags, Seth headed straight to the locker room, dropping off his bags and then making his way toward catering for some food. He caught a glimpse of you on the way there, already sitting in hair and makeup, doing work on your laptop while you chit-chatted with the ladies.

He figured he’d leave you to it, hoping he’d run into you later in the night to talk more. He knew how important it was to make others feel welcomed, but it felt especially important to him that he could be someone you knew you could lean on, whether it was casual conversations or just talking about work.

“Where you off to? We’re all scheduled for a meeting with Paul.” Charlotte stopped him in the halls, going in the opposite direction of where all the talent was heading.

He scratched the back of his neck, pointing at her phone in her hand, “Was it an email? I didn’t see it on the itinerary.”

The blonde nodded, scrolling through her inbox. “Should’ve got sent to you this morning, but it doesn’t matter. It said all talent anyway.”

Seth nodded, walking alongside her, noting just how many people were headed in the same direction as Paul’s office. Usually they were all scheduled for meeting by group, but it seemed like it was an important one if Paul was calling for everyone on the same day at the same time.

As they squeezed into the office, some superstars found empty chairs while the rest stood against the walls, making space for those still arriving. The room buzzed with loud chatter, everyone speculating about the meeting’s purpose, hoping it wasn’t anything bad, like another round of roster splits.

Paul who sat at the head of the table, finally cleared his throat, silencing the room with an assertive presence that meant business.

“Okay everyone, let’s make this quick so you all can get out of here.” He rubbed his hands together, passing around papers that had the upcoming schedule for the next month.

“We’ve got some shows scattered across the east coast and mid-west. We’re prepping for SummerSlam, so things are going to start moving quicker and as we wrap up some storylines, we’re also going to be starting new ones.”

Many of the superstars were already well aware if they would be on the pay-per-view card or not, except Seth, who was still awaiting his opponent after he and Dean lost the tag team championships to Sheamus and Cesaro. They were originally going to have a rematch, but Dean ended up getting written into a different storyline with The Miz for the intercontinental championship.

“As you know my daughter joined us just a few days ago, but she has been watching and closely working alongside creative and producers in order to write a few scripts. Some of which will be getting played out in the coming weeks.”

Seth heard through the grapevine that some superstars already had meetings with you the following day after your debut to pitch the new storylines. Braun Strowman was one of the superstars to have a script written specifically for himself, and it was safe to say that everyone else was excited to see if they’d receive a script with your name on it too.

Your father was also greatly elated that you were taking the reins on helping him develop some talent—the pride evident in his voice and face as he spoke about you though you weren’t around to hear.

“And speaking about my daughter, I feel like this goes without saying, but just to make it abundantly clear, I think you should hear it from me.”

The tone in Paul’s voice suddenly shifted to something more serious, causing the superstars to deliberately fixate their sights on him.

“She’s new to this scene and to be quite frank she didn’t even want to step foot anywhere near the business, but she gave it a shot and while she’s still getting adjusted to the way things work around here, I have a good feeling she’s going to be the person taking over when I decide its time for me to step away…”

Everyone nodded along understanding that Paul’s time in charge might not be for long seeing as though he was getting older and he didn’t want to overstay his position of the head of creative knowing that it was best for a new perspective to be let in before things went stale.

Paul took a deep breath, the shift in his demeanor palpable as he transitioned from boss to protective father. His eyes scanned the room, settling on each superstar with a look that spoke volumes and caused most of them to squirm including Seth.

“Which is why I need to make myself crystal clear,” he began, his voice firm and unwavering. “My daughter is absolutely off-limits.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in despite him feeling like it should have been an automatic rule everyone should’ve been expected to follow without him saying it explicitly.

Seth found it a little hypocritical considering the nature of Paul and Stephanie’s relationship. Everyone knew they had gotten together despite Vince’s warning and everyone else tell them it was bad for business, yet here they were years later not only married but with four daughters to show for it.

But Seth also knew that mixing pleasure with business wasn’t always successful as theirs was—most times it was like playing a dangerous game, and he respected that aspect of it—plus, who would be crazy enough to go after the boss’s daughter, anyway?

“She’s a sweet girl,” he continued, his voice softening slightly trying not to get emotional when it came to you.

“And I’m not just saying that because she’s my kid. If anyone were to hurt her, especially when I’m the person signing their checks, I would hate to be the one to have to fire them too. Am I clear?”

Paul was anything other than threatening especially outside of the character he played up for fans, but it felt like the first time he showed the true colors that could come out if anyone dared to get on his bad side. There was a collective ‘yes’ that filled the room, nearly suffocating everyone with how thick the tension in the air was.

From the back of the room, Randy’s voice cut through the silence with a choked up laugh.

“I guess my dreams of calling you dad are finally crushed.”

Laughter calmed the room and everyone in it—of course Randy was the only one who could make a joke like that and live to see another day.

Paul chortled, pointing a finger in his direction. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, shaking his head and settling down.

Just then, the door swung open, causing everyone to look in its direction.

You stumbled in, changed out of your casual clothing into a little black dress with your hair pinned up in curlers. Your eyes widened, forehead creasing with worry as you quickly shut the door and darted your eyes towards your dad, sputtering out an apology.

“I’m sorry, I’m late! I thought the meeting started at—”

He shook his head, lifting a hand and cutting you off. “You’re right on time, sweetheart. I just got them briefed on next month’s schedule.”

He picked up one of the printed papers, waving you over to sit in the empty seat next to him.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, smiling and waving to all the superstars as you made your way to the front of the room.

“Is there anything you guys talked about?” You speculated, brushing your hands against the fabric of your dress before you sat.

Everyone remained dead silent, shaking their heads realizing Paul had strategically given you a different time just so he could give all of them the word of warning without you present.

For a moment you caught eyes with Seth who stood near the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest and he quickly moved his eyes elsewhere, shaking his head like everyone else.

Your dad clicked his tongue, getting your attention. “No, just that and briefly about the storylines you had been working on.” He replied smoothly, covering the previous discussion without you knowing.

“Maybe you should formally introduce yourself, since they don’t know very much about you.”

He sat back in his chair, nodding for you to go ahead. For some reason, it was more nerve-racking to talk to all of them at once instead of the usual one-on-one conversations you had been having with them as the week went on.

“Oh, okay,” you muttered, nodding your head as you stood up, taking a deep breath.

“My apologies in advance for how I look right now. As you could tell, I am horrible with time management.” You bit your lip, miming at your head of curlers.

The room snickered, somewhat relaxing you seeing that they weren’t as intimidating and scary as they came off. They all understood how hectic the job could get, and some of them were still needed to change into gear, which made you feel like it was no big deal after all.

“As you know I’m Paul and Stephanie’s eldest daughter and I am currently serving as a freshman creative writer and backstage producer on the main roster. But before this, I had been writing storylines for NXT, the developmental brand, for about a year and a half. And before that, I was working in freelance writing after I graduated college.” You said, gaining a little more confidence the more you spoke.

“On screen I play according to my dad, a semi-heel and semi-face heiress to the legacy in which my mother’s side of the family forged and now has merged with father. And now that you’re all here, I just wanted to say thank you for welcoming me with open arms and giving me the opportunity to be a part of your world.” You pressed your hands together, bowing slightly towards them.

You caught a few impressed nods and smiles from the superstars, clearly unaware of your extensive experience and appreciating that you gave them their flowers despite you still being so new to the main roster.

“It’s been a huge deal for me that my father trusts me with creating stories, and I know it’s important that you, the performers who make it your own, feel connected to them, therefore I am always open to talking and hearing what we could do to make it better. So please do not feel intimidated by me at all—I’m seriously the least intimidating person around here, and I can’t wait to work with you all.”

The room filled with a round of applause that made you smile in relief as you sat back down after what felt like eternity with all eyes on you. And of course, like your eyes were trained to look in his direction, you couldn’t miss Seth wearing a tight lip grin and giving you a subtle thumbs up as if he knew you would be looking his way.

Your dad reached over, giving you a small pat on the back, displaying a proud smile.

“Well, that wraps it up. Let’s have a good show tonight, alright?”

Everyone slowly began to file out of your dad’s office, a few superstars sticking around to catch up with him, while some came up to you, indicating their excitement at having you on board. Seth waited until you wrapped up with some of them before approaching you to do the same.

“Good job,” Seth spoke genuinely, giving your arm a gentle tap, “Didn’t know you had so much experience.”

You laughed softly, feeling at ease with him around compared to everyone else.

“I didn’t want to bore you with my resume.” You shrugged.

Your father turned his attention to you both, a surprised look spreading across his face as he gestured between you both.

“You guys met already?”

You looked up at Seth, nodding with a silly grin before turning to your dad. “I actually ran into him on Monday before the show. I was totally klutz and bumped into him.” You confessed embarrassingly.

“Sounds just about right.” Your dad joked, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“She did deceive me a little bit,” Seth started, tipping his head towards you, “Left out that she’s the boss’s daughter.”

Your dad let out a snort, shaking his head knowing that you partly did so because you didn’t want to gloat, but mostly because you wanted to keep your debut a surprise for as long as possible.

“How are you feeling today?” Paul asked curiously, lacing his fingers together as he sat back into his chair.

You played with your fingers idly, smiling a little, “I think I’m getting the hang of it, but I still get nervous getting on live tv.” You admitted.

“Well, tonight’s good practice. You’ve got three short segments with some superstars, so they’ll help you through it.”

Alexa Bliss, Kevin Owens, and Roman Reigns.

You had gone over the script an abundant amount of times having your lines memorized off the top of your head.

Alexa, you had met down in NXT before she was drafted onto the main roster, the two of you becoming good acquaintances outside of the ring. When she found out you two would be having a segment together, she immediately shot you a text, gushing about how excited she was.

Kevin was introduced to you by your dad on Monday night. Him voicing his delight that you decided to come work for the company and all nice things said about the storylines you had forged in NXT prior. He still had a few friends down in developmental who bragged about the storylines you and Shawn were working on together and now that he finally had a face to your name, he was excited about what else you’d do on the main roster.

Roman was someone you watched consistently on TV. He was a part of the same faction Seth and Dean were in—The Shield. You hadn’t met him on Monday since he was on paternity leave, but tonight, having him back in action was the perfect opportunity to introduce yourself.

“Speaking of that,” you diverted your eyes back up to Seth who lingered at your side, “Do you know where Roman might be? I didn’t get the chance to talk to him one on one yet.”

Seth nodded, pointing his thumbs towards the door.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in catering. I’m heading there now if you want to come with.” He offered politely.

And you nodded thankfully, getting up to reach over and give your dad a small hug, “I’ll stop by before the show.”

“Don’t forget to get those out of your hair,” he reminded, chuckling along with Seth as you shook your head. “See you later, Seth,” He added, giving the wrestler a firm handshake before you were on your way.

The hallways were busy with crew members rolling in carts and transporting equipment before doors opened—a rush you were just starting to get used to it. You and Seth were practically shoulder to shoulder trying not to get in anyone’s way. Each time your hand brushed against his arm, you muttered a quiet apology, to which he hushed you, saying it was nothing to worry about.

As the haste in the hallway slowly dwindled, you glanced at him. “Thanks for saying those kinds of things. I really appreciate it.”

So far, Seth was the one superstar you had multiple interactions with and he had been pleasant each and every single time. You figured it was because he held a lot of respect for your dad, but another part of you knew it was just him being a good person.

He met your eyes, nodding his head and rubbing his hands together, “I know how daunting it is, especially when you’re so new to the scene, but just know that everyone already thinks you’re killing it…me especially.” He bragged, gesturing to himself with a smirk.

Your cheeks rose with a smile. “Thank you,” you whispered, and it never seemed to leave your face after that.

Reaching catering, he held the door open for you, letting you through first. Renee and Charlotte had caught a glimpse and immediately waved at you, their eyes briefly widening when they saw Seth strolling in behind you. He said something to you, pointing towards Roman’s back at the same table where the rest of his friends sat.

“Yo, big dog!” He shouted, garnering Roman’s attention as the man looked over his shoulder.

Seth motioned to you then headed off to grab food while you walked up to the man. You immediately greeted him with a glowing smile and a small wave. He grinned, setting his fork down and sticking his hand out to shake yours.

“Hey! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself. I heard you and your wife just welcomed two new little ones—congratulations!” You bubbled, making him smile at the thoughtfulness.

Rising up out of his chair, he opening his arms and gave you a warm appreciative hug.

“Thanks, and it’s nice to meet you too.” He replied, before drawing away, “I saw what you did on Monday and man…the fans already love you.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I think they’re still a little skeptical if I’m going to be more like my mom’s character or my dad’s.” You threw your hands up, making him chuckle.

Nearly forgetting, your eyes widened, and you snapped your fingers.

“And hey, if you want to change anything about our segment, just let me know. I’m always in my office and if I’m not there, I’m probably hiding from my dad’s personal assistant.”

He and the rest of the table cracked a laugh, aware that your father kept a close eye on you, especially after what they gathered from the meeting.

“I appreciate that. It’s always nice to know I can talk to you,” He replied earnestly, his statement showing his gratitude before taking his seat again to continue eating.

“Wanna sit?” Seth offered, returning with a plate of food and he pulled out the empty chair beside him for you to take. You nodded, thanking him with a smile as you took a seat.

“So you said that before NXT you were working as a freelance writer,” Renee spoke, leaning towards you across the table and you nodded. “Anything we know you from?”

You thought for a moment, shaking your head.

“To be honest, I don’t think so. I did a lot of screenwriting after college. Short films and mini projects that didn’t really take off, but then after that I got really into creative writing and launched a tiny little column in the local paper about fictional entertainment.”

“Wow, you really are a workhorse.” Dean complimented.

“You have to show us one of your short films someday,” Seth chimed in, chuckling when he saw embarrassment flush over your cheeks.

You shook your head vigorously, covering your face, making everyone laugh and shake their heads.

“It was mediocre at the very least. A lot of angst and tropey plot lines.”

Maybe it was you attempting to be humble or truly just wanting to save yourself the mess, but they all knew deep down that you had a vividly gifted mind. It already proved itself to be true with the experience you had, but more so in the fact that you took the time to make sure everyone in the locker-room knew you were approachable because the storylines meant just as much to you as it did to them.

Charlotte reached across the table, grazing your hand, “We’re all going out to dinner tonight. You should join us!”

She extended the invitation with a friendly smile, hoping you would take her up on it, seeing as though they all wanted to get to know you more.

“You sure?” You asked hesitantly, not wanting to impose.

“Yeah, come on,” Seth nudged you gently, flashing you a toothy grin, “The restaurant we’re going to is known for the best steak in the city and I heard they’ve got a killer dessert menu.” His voice had a teasing lilt, as if trying to entice you.

You pressed your lips together, shoulders caving in shyly until you finally nodded.

“Sure, why not” You gave in, the table hooting with a frenzy, making you smile wider.

“I just have to ask my driver to drop me off. Do you mind giving me the address?” You asked, looking towards Charlotte.

“You could ride with me and Seth after the show,” Roman suggested, jutting his chin over at his buddy who nodded in agreement.

“And we’re staying at the same hotel, so it’ll be no problem getting back.” Seth added, his eyes meeting yours in a reassuring gaze.

You nodded, smiling happily, “That’s perfect, thank you so much! Should I meet you guys in the parking garage after the show?”

They nodded. “We’ll be there.”

“Great! I’m going to get these out of hair, but I’ll see you guys tonight!” You beamed, rising up and giving all of them a wave.

As you wandered away, you suddenly turned back on your heel, shooting Roman a playful point.

“And I’ll see you later for the segment!” You added eagerly, and he chuckled nodding as you went on your way.

By the time the main event match was wrapping up, gorilla was nearly empty. Just a few producers and your dad who hung back sticking around to congratulate Kevin and Roman.

You had been sitting in gorilla after your three segments had wrapped, needing a change in scenery while you worked through your final script and took some producer notes as your dad worked.

Soon enough Roman’s music hit, signaling the end of the show. The hard camera continued rolling for a few more seconds until your dad spoke through the headsets to cut, and soon the two superstars began making their way up the ramp.

You immediately stood up, walking over to the curtain to greet them, watching as they shook each other’s hand.

“Amazing match, you two,” you applauded.

The two men laughed when you stuck your arm out offering them a first bump, not wanting to give them a proper hug due to the sweat and they met your knuckles in a friendly manner.

Roman pointed at you, still catching his breath as a stage hand passed him a bottle of water.

“Parking garage, don’t forget.” He spoke and then chugged the liquid.

You nodded, thanking him for reminding you, “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I wrap up here.”

He went over to your father and the rest of the producers, shaking their hands before heading to the locker room to catch a shower and gather his things for the road. You said goodnight to all that were leaving, thanking them for their kind words regarding your segment and all the work you had been doing so far.

Your dad took off his headsets, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“Where you headed off to?” He wondered, watching you collect your laptop and notebook from the monitor desks.

“Charlotte invited me out to dinner with a few people and I’m gonna catch a ride with Roman and Seth there.” You announced cheerfully, holding your things against your chest.

He smiled lovingly, happy to see that they were making an effort to make you feel extra welcomed.

“That’s nice of them. Just make sure you get back to the hotel alright. We have an early flight in the morning.”

“Of course, dad.” You nodded, going to give him a hug, “And if you see Eddie, tell him I said thank you for sending my stuff over to my suite.” You spoke against him.

He nodded, pressing a kiss to cheek forehead. “Shoot me a text when you turn in. I love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

You quickly made a pit stop at your office to tidy up the space and grab the rest of your belongings, checking that you had everything before the arena locked up for the night. Anticipating the brisk cold of the night, you pulled on your black oversized blazer, giving the room one last look over before shutting the door and walking towards the back entrance where the parking garage was located.

You looked around, stepping further until you spotted Roman and Seth loading up the trunk of their rental with their bags while Charlotte, Renee, and Dean lingered against the rental beside them, making small talk while waiting for you.

Your heels clacked against the concrete, catching their attention.

“Thanks again for the ride,” you chirped, pausing near the boys who finished up sliding in their luggage and bags.

Seth frowned, looking down and around you.

“Where’s your stuff?” He wondered, pointing to the small space he reserved for your things.

You waved your hand off in the air, “Eddie sent it over to my suite earlier in the night. Didn’t want you guys doing extra arm work.”

Roman tsked, patted his biceps and flexing them dramatically, “Don’t worry, baby girl, these puppies can lift anything.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully until Dean whistled, tossing his keys between his palms.

“Let’s get this show on the road. I want my steak pronto.” He said, rubbing his tummy.

You all began getting into your respective cars. Seth taking the liberty of motioning you to follow him, holding open the backdoor for you, “After you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, sliding in and buckling your seatbelt.

He shut your door gently, walking around to the driver’s seat, getting the car started while Roman got comfortable in the passenger. The radio was on low, and Seth deliberately toggled with the climate control, turning on the heating for the backseat, knowing you were a bit chilly now that you sported a jacket over your dress.

He signalled for Dean to go first, waiting as the other car reversed out of the stall, and Seth followed behind en route to the restaurant that was just a few more minutes into the city.

Roman cleared his throat, briefly looking back at you. “How did you feel about your segments?”

You shifted in your seat, sitting up a tad. “It actually went better than I thought! It’s just the thought of the camera being there and the anticipation of going live that gets me all nervous.”

They both understood what you meant, and to be fair they had a bit of an advantage when they were first starting out. Seth, Roman, and Dean having each other to lean on during segments, matches, and promos which made the whole thing feel less intimidating and prepared them for when they became singles competitors.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, the crowd is already receptive to you and you have good chemistry with everyone you’ve worked with so far.” Seth said kindly, eyes looking at you in the rearview, catching a smile that spread across your face even in the dingy lighting of the car.

The rest of the drive was full of chitchat—Roman gushing over his kids, pride sweltering as he spoke about them and how much he missed them while on the road. Seth expressed the same feelings, except regarding his adorable yorkie named Kevin who he had since his NXT days.

You had a little bit of both—three little sisters whom you were extremely close with, and like a second mother figure to them, and childhood dogs who snuggled you each time you came to visit home.

When you all arrived, Seth the ever gentleman he was, opened your door, helping you out before you all walked in. The restaurant was rustic yet sleek, nothing too fancy or out of the ordinary, which was charming for a nice spot in the city. The heavy wooden doors gave way to the space adorned with marble countertops and wooden panelling that complimented the setting.

“You guys can follow me…” the hostess instructed, guiding your group towards the back of the restaurant in a secluded corner perfect for all seven of you.

Everyone picked their seats—Dean and Renee sitting on one side along with Charlotte. Roman sat at the head of the table and you and Seth sat directly across from the trio, with you on the tail end.

He pulled out the chair for you, nodding his head as you smiled and bowed slightly at the gesture. “Why thank you,” you giggled, taking a seat as he pushed the chair in slightly and took the empty adjacent to Roman.

The hostess got you all started with some menus, letting you all browse over it before she would come back and get your orders. You flipped through the laminated pages, picking two items just in case they were out of the other.

You peered over at Seth who was doing the same until you nudged your elbow gently into his, gaining his attention as he perked up and nodded towards you.

“What are you getting?”

“A medium rare tomahawk, potatoes, and a water,” He said without skipping a beat or taking another look at the menu, “I already knew what I was gonna get.”

The act alone made you giggle, shaking your head at him as he too broke out into a laugh, watching you fold up your menu as you settled down.

“So you were just trying to fit in the whole time?” You bantered, narrowing your eyes at him.

He rubbed his hands over his chest, nodding, “I didn’t want to be the only one not looking at the menu.” He whispered, eyes shifting to everyone else who was still deciding what they were going to get.

You sat back, folding your arms across your chest, shifting an inch closer to him, “I probably won’t get anything too fancy, but I am definitely getting some red wine…you’re not having a beer?”

He shook his head, mimicking your action, his shoulder pressed against your arm. “I am transporting precious cargo and I would hate for you to suffer even a scratch.”

You felt warm all over, trying to suppress another smile that always seemed to be incessantly glued to your face whenever Seth said something nice to you. And you failed to conceal it again, letting your cheeks rise.

“I appreciate your chivalry.” You spoke quietly enough for just him to hear.

“You’re getting dessert after too, right?” He insisted, pointing at the image of a chocolate lava cake that he was most certainly talking up earlier in the night.

You pursed your lips, not knowing if you could stomach it by yourself. “Wanna split it?”

He smirked, nodding, “Yeah sure, but just letting you know, I am going to ask for a scoop of vanilla ice cream over top.”

“Sounds divine.” You wiggled your brows, making him chuckle.

Dinner was full of laughter, with food and drinks served on the side. It had been a while since you had been around people who made you laugh so much without even trying too hard. All of them were so lively, cracking jokes left and right and somehow still being able to carry a casual conversation without missing a beat.

You felt safe around all of them, a kind of camaraderie that didn’t make you feel as if you were just solely the boss’s daughter, but rather a friend in the making through your new venture in life. Good things took time, and you knew the friendships you were going to make with all of them was totally worth it.

“No, they did not!” Renee and Charlotte stared at you wide eyed, the rest of the table bursting out into laughs while you nodded your head instantaneously and rested your palms on the tabletop, leaning towards them.

“I swear to god, I’m not making this up!” You drew an x over your heart, holding your palms in the air.

“Maybe I pissed the guy off for turning him down, but there I was getting ready to drive to class and that piece of shit spray painted “suck it!” all over my car!” You exclaimed, disturbed, but not for long, as you threw your head back and laughed uncontrollably.

The girls followed suit, hunching over the table, reaching for your arms and clinging to you while you all laughed like little kids. You had no clue how you got to talking about your terrible college experience with boys, but somehow you got there, and everyone was dumbfounded that one guy you turned down would go all Degeneration X on you.

“Your parents must have been pissed, right?” Dean sought, settling down with a stiffled laugh.

Your eyes widened as you nodded, sipping on your wine before you replied.

“Oh, they were livid once they first found out! But eventually when it passed, and I got it painted over, we just couldn’t stop laughing because it was just so absurd.”

Roman shook his head, staring at you in amazement.

“I can’t believe we didn’t know about you this entire time. Your parents really kept you out of the limelight, huh?”

You nodded, “That, and the fact that having a baby out of wedlock really wasn’t something my parents wanted out at the time—mostly because of my grandpa Vince.”

They all winced, grinning guiltily knowing of course Vince of all people was the one who wanted to keep his daughter’s premarital pregnancy under wraps. Thankfully, now it wasn’t such a big deal and you and your parents found it slightly comical.

“What’s funny is that I swore I saw you running up and down the arenas back when I was like 10 and you were like 3?” Charlotte recalled, looking over at you puzzled.

You nodded, gesturing up at your hair. “If my hair was in pigtails and I sported a gigantic DX shirt as a dress, then yes. That was totally me causing trouble in the corridors.”

Seth peered at you, watching you closely. “How come you didn’t want to get into the business sooner?”

You sighed heavily, shrugging your shoulders, “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it was too much. Too much business. Too much drama. Too many feelings getting hurt, especially when family is involved.” You pointed out to which everyone understood.

“How’d your dad convince you?” He added, knowing it must have not been so easy.

You set your elbow on the table, resting your chin on your first as you stared at him ardently.

“I had a feeling my dad was going to take over the company, and at that time I wasn’t doing a lot, so when he came to me and pitched the idea, I was a teeny bit hesitant, but he promised me I could have all the creative freedom I wanted. So long as I didn’t erase history or disregarded any talent’s input.”

Seth nodded along, listening to you express your relationship with the company and most importantly your dad. It was clear that you had no intentions of getting involved because to be fair you loved what you did on your own, but you took a risk and fell in love with writing storylines that were refreshing for the product and the new era of television they were in.

Many of the superstars, including Seth were thrilled when it was announced that Paul was taking over, but adding you into the mix made everything feel a little different in the best way possible. Usually writers and producers pushed back against their ideas and suggestions, but you exhibited a profound way of keeping and getting them involved in the product behind the scenes in a way that many never got to chance to have.

He knew, just as well as everyone else that you were going to leave your mark. The way you talked about your craft and the sincerity that leaked with every word had him enthralled—that was until Dean broke up the stare he had on you.

“We better cross our fingers we get a script written by you.” Dean raised his glass, breaking the silence.

You blinked slowly, the warmth still lingering in the air between you and Seth as you shifted your eyes to the rest of your friends lifting their glasses to you.

“To the Levesque Era,” Seth declared, following suit and nodding for you to pick up your wine glass.

“And new beginnings,” you continued, your voice soft but sanguine, the rim of your glass clinking with his lightly as you repeated the sentiment with everyone else.

As promised, you and Seth shared a chocolate molten lava cake topped with vanilla bean ice cream. The two of you sliding the plate between each other, sitting back comfortably as you listened to everyone catch you up on what they were up to in their lives outside the company.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the hostess. You smiled at her, straightening up as she approached. Subtly, you handed her your card, and she nodded, promising to be back with the receipt.

As she walked away and you discreetly tucked your wallet back into your purse, Seth leaned in over your shoulder, wondering what you were up to.

“What did you just do?” He asked, his mouth still full, staring at you with a mix of suspicion and amusement.

You looked back at him, slowly relaxing back as you bit your lip and tried to pretend you didn’t hear him the first time.

“What do you mean?” you raised your brow at him.

He swallowed, shaking his head. “Did you just pay? I told you it was on us,” He protested, eyes widening in playful disbelief.

“Oh hey c’mon, that’s cheating.” Roman chimed in, pointing at you.

You held your hands up in defense, a smirk playing on your lips. “No, seriously, it’s on me. You guys invited me out, and it’s the least I could do.”

“Next time we’re baring you from even sticking your hand in your purse,” Renee threatened, sticking her hand out for you to shake on it.

Giggling, you nodded as you clasped her hand. “You have my word.”

You let go, all of you beginning to wrap up and get ready to head out for the night.

Seth, still shaking his head, leaned closer, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“Just trying to make a good impression.” You argued with a playful shrug.

“Well, you’re definitely succeeding,” he retorted, voice true despite the teasing tone that came along with it.

The night winded down perfectly, zero traffic heading back to the hotel and sleepiness just on the precipice of settling behind your eyes. You, Seth, and Roman said goodnight to three after you and the girls exchanged phone numbers while the men got their bags and suitcases unloaded from the trunks.

“What floor?” Roman ordered, looking over towards you and Seth entering the elevator.

“Six,” you and Seth said in unison, turning to each other with matching looks of surprise and a shared laugh. Roman chuckled as he pressed the buttons for both floors.

The elevator hummed quietly as it ascended, a comfortable silence settling over the three of you after the night of laughter and conversations you had. When it dinged on Roman’s floor, he reached around, pulling you into a small hug.

“Thanks again for dinner.”

“Of course! You have a good night.” You replied warmly, returning the hug and stepping back. Roman and Seth exchanged a firm handshake, a silent nod of understanding between them before Roman exited the elevator.

As the doors closed, and continued its ascension to the sixth floor, Seth turned to you with a gentle smile. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

You nodded without a second thought, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

“I’d like that.”

The hallway was quiet and shadowy, the carpeted floors muffling your footsteps and rolling of his suitcase as you walked sided by side. Your room was at the end of the corridor, just a few doors away from him. Stopping in front of your door, you searched your bag for the keycard.

“Thanks again for tonight.” He kept his eyes on you, catching the way you looked up past your lashes, and shook your head with a small smile.

“It’s the least I could do, and thank you for making me feel welcomed. It really means a lot to me.” You said, finally fishing the key out of your bag.

“Any chance I can treat you for coffee in the morning?” He proposed politely, wanting to return the gesture.

But you pouted wistfully, shaking your head and feeling genuinely bummed.

“I’ve actually got an early flight. It’s my little sister’s birthday and me and my dad are surprising her.” You apologized, wishing your fight was later in the day.

Seth nodded understandingly, not letting his disappointment show past his smile. “That’s alright. Tell her I said happy birthday.”

You grinned, nodding, “Of course! And I’ll definitely take you up on that coffee date when I get back.” You promised, eyes twinkling with anticipating for it.

“Looking forward to it,” he breathed, his gaze lingering on you as you slid the key into your door, turning the handle.

You gave him one last smile, feeling just a tad reluctant to end the night despite your tiredness.

“Night, Seth.”

“Night sweetheart.” He said quietly, watching as you stepped inside and offered him one last wave before shutting the door.

And so he walked back a few doors down, looking down your way one last time, already hoping for the next time he’d see you again.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i hope you guys like chapter two of icsy!!! i was aiming to do something domestic and fun, and i thought why not dinner with the whole crew and a side of seth and reader flirting like idiots the whole time??? let me know what you guys think and i cannot wait for you to read the next chapter (hehehe it's already one of my faves <3).

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underground-secret · 5 months

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god.

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with.

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment.

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.”

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks.

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic.

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds.

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead.

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman.

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side.

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks.

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that.

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart.

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala.

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons.

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me.

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out.

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed.

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!”

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks.

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed.

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers.

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed.

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him.

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.”

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying.

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack.

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head.

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works.

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us.

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.”

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further.

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy.

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas.

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued.

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical.

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully.

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers.

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’”

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly.

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles.

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells.

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure.

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat.

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help.

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy.

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.”

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don��t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick.

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead.

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 years

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𝓚𝓘𝓝𝓚𝑇𝓞ℬ𝓔ℛ ℳ𝓐𝓢𝑇𝓔ℛℒ𝓘𝓢𝑇 2022

Happy Halloween everybody! you know what that means... It's kinktober time! So, gather around my blog as I post daily updates of a new kink with your favorite characters!

Day 1: Daryl Dixon — Rough Sex

Day 2: Steve Rogers — Captain Kink

Day 3: Dean Winchester — Submission

Day 4: Castiel — Corruption

Day 5: Daryl Dixon — Hair Pulling

Day 6: Spencer Reid — Hand Kink

Day 7: Aaron Hotchner — Uniform Kink

Day 8: Emily Prentiss — Teasing

Day 9: Rick & Daryl — Threesome

Day 10: Spencer Reid — Size Kink

Day 11: Maggie Greene — Brat Taming

Day 12: Daryl Dixon — Shotgunning

Day 13: Michonne Hawthorne — Body Worship

Day 14: Bucky Barnes — Overstimulation

Day 15: Dean Winchester — Blood Play

Day 16: Sam Winchester — Throat Fucking

Day 17: Rick Grimes — Sir Kink

Day 18: Daryl Dixon — Sweat Kink

Day 19: Dean Winchester — Food Play

Day 20: Spencer Reid — Strangers

Day 21: Glenn Rhee — Handjob

Day 22: Bucky Barnes — Choking

Day 23: Dean Winchester — Somnophilia

Day 24: Priest!Sam Winchester — Blasphemy

Day 25: Micheal!Dean Winchester — Knife Kink

Day 26: Spencer Reid — Handcuffs

Day 27: Aaron Hotchner — Spanking

Day 28: Penelope Garcia — Aftercare

Day 29: Demon!Dean Winchester — Biting

Day 30: Natasha Romanoff — Femdom

Day 31: Thor Odinson — Dumbification

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year

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Saints Are Sinners Too

Summary: Y/N has some confessing to do.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Pretty much zero plot to this porn. Blowjob, face fucking, deep throating, rough fingering, spanking (very minor).

** This fic is about Priest!dean and Nun!reader. They're undercover, and not actual members of the clergy. Nevertheless, it's probably obvious that there is a LOT of sacrilegious imagery, dialogue and situations in this one. So, be warned. **

Pairings: Priest!Dean Winchester x Nun!reader

Word Count: 1,427

A/N: This fic came about as a response to this post, and this post. It will also be used to fill my first square on my @jacklesversebingo card. The square I will be filling is "Does it turn you on that we might get caught?" The quote will be bolded in the fic. Hope you all enjoy my smutty offering.

Gotta go confess now. 😁

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89. Title card above and gif below were created by me.

“Forgive Me Father, I’m about to sin.”

“Y/N?” Dean’s surprised whisper came through the thin wall that separated the priest from the petitioner.

“Nope, I’m just a sinner here in need of forgiveness.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked.

Seconds later, Y/N opened the door to his side of the confessional and walked into the incredibly small, crowded space.

He frowned up at her as she shut the door behind her, dimming the light inside the tiny box once again. “You’re supposed to be searching the rectory for the bone of a saint. And I can’t very well get confessions of evil out of our would-be suspects if you’re in here with me.”

Y/N pulled a little bag out of a hidden pocket within her borrowed nun’s habit. Inside the bag was a small white bone. “Got it already.” She said, turning mischievous eyes on him. “What about you? Heard any sinful confessions?”

Dean shook his head. “No, just a couple old ladies confessing to cheating at bingo, and getting drunk on church wine.”

Y/N snickered and then sank to her knees between Dean’s open legs, biting her lip as she reached out and pushed aside his black jacket before popping open the button on his pants. Dean’s expression was equal parts lust and worry. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Confessing my sins, Father.”

“Y/N, we can’t do this here, they’ll - “ Dean’s words trailed off into a moan as Y/N pulled down his zipper and stuck her hand inside to grip him through his underwear..

“Shh.” Y/N admonished. “Gotta keep quiet or they’ll hear you.”

“Y/N.” Dean tried again, but she pulled his briefs down far enough to let his hardening cock spring free, and he bit into his lush bottom lip to stifle another groan.

“Don’t you wanna hear my confession?” Y/N asked, her voice and expression all innocence.

Dean nodded absently, all his attention focused on not yelling out loud as she sucked one of his balls into her mouth and rolled it around on her tongue. She gave the same attention to the other one before licking a stripe up the underside of his cock.

Dean’s hard fingers were dug deep into the padded bench he was sitting on, and the veins in his neck bulged as he strained to stay quiet.

“My confession, Father, is that I’ve been lusting after you all day. Since the second I walked into the motel room this morning and saw you dressed like this, all I’ve been able to think about was this moment. All I’ve wanted is to get on my knees and show you heaven.”

With that she took him all the way down her throat, swallowing him in one go. Dean sank his hand into her hair and yanked it. “Fuck, Y/N, fuck.” He whispered, strained and desperate.

Y/N came off of him, breathing hard, cum and spit running down her chin. She used her mouth to spread it up and down his dick before taking him in her hand, squeezing tight and pumping him hard. She watched his jaw clench, as he breathed harshly through his teeth, and she felt her panties flood.

Her voice was thick as she reached under the black skirts she wore and rubbed herself over the damp cotton. “Does it turn you on that we might get caught? Hmm?” She asked as she kitten-licked the angry, purplish head of his straining cock. “Is it making you hard to know there’s only a thin door keeping us from being seen? That any minute someone could walk into the booth and see us through that partition.”

She nodded up at the open wicker grating that allowed light to seep in from the other side of the confessional. With jerky movements, Dean reached over to yank closed the tiny curtain that covered the window.

Y/N chuckled darkly. “That’s not gonna help much.” She said, gently squeezing his balls and making another harsh and entirely too loud moan leak out of Dean’s beautiful lips.

“Please Y/N, goddamn.” He mumbled nonsensically, sweat dotting his forehead as Y/N pushed down on him again, taking him completely, but gagging a bit this time. “Fuck.” Dean cried out hoarsely as he took her head between his hands. She looked up at him from where she was sunk onto his cock, and saw the desperate question for her in his eyes.

“Mmhmmm.” She answered around him, knowing what he was asking, her mouth watering in anticipation.

Gripping her head tightly, he pulled her back, so she only kept the tip of him between her lips. Then he hammered his hips forward, fucking her face hard and deep. Over and over he hit the back of her throat raising a gluck, gluck sound as she choked around him. He pulled out of her mouth completely and she pulled harsh breaths into her abused throat.

They weren’t being very quiet anymore, but she couldn’t care. She hoped the booth was far enough away, and the soft organ music playing over the church speakers would drown them out at least a little. But she was too far gone to stop, whatever the consequences.

She continued to work her clit as Dean began ravaging her face once again. When he pushed deep down her throat, she slipped two fingers inside herself and stared up at him, rapturously. His broad, powerful chest was heaving as he fought off his climax. His lips formed an O and he pushed air between them harshly, desperately trying to control himself.

Finally, he pushed on the back of her head so that she was smashed tight against him, every inch of his thick cock filled her mouth and stretched her esophagus. Then his face contorted and he was spilling down her throat, fast and hot. She swallowed around his cock, trying to gulp it all down, but she couldn’t and as he pushed her off of him so she could breathe again, she coughed hard, spit and cum spilling down her chin and onto the habit she wore. Still breathing harshly, Dean grabbed her upper arms and wrenched her up off the floor. Barely managing it in the tiny space, he swapped places with her so that she was now standing in front of the bench.

Rather than sitting her down on it, however, Dean spun her around so she faced the back wall of the confessional and pushed against her back, forcing her to bend over. Seconds later he had her black skirts rucked up around her waist and her panties down around her ankles. Y/N just barely managed to stifle a shrill scream of pleasure as he sank two fingers deep into her cunt. He fucked her hard with them, pulling out of her only once to give two loud and stinging slaps to her bare ass.

She moaned deep, long past caring about being found out as he buried his fingers, three of them this time, back into her slick and throbbing pussy. He was knuckle deep and then he pulled out and shoved them back inside again, rocketing his fingers into her body hard enough that the little box surrounding them shook slightly.

He knew she was incredibly close; all he had to do was press his fingers against the secret sweet spot he knew how to find every time. He pressed there and Y/N gulped air into her lungs for a scream, but he took his free hand and clamped it over her mouth just in time. Her slick cunt clenched powerfully around his fingers at the same time that she bit into the palm of his hand in an attempt to lessen the noise of her climax. Dean gritted his teeth as he buried his face in the side of her neck.

Her body shuddered and shook as her high ebbed away. Dean pulled his hand out of her body, dropping her skirts back down and pulling his pants back up, before shifting them both slightly so that she was sitting in his lap. They put their foreheads together and shared breath as they tried to stop their hearts from hammering.

Dean smiled at her and licked his lips. “Well, son of a bitch, sweetheart - you’re absolved.” Y/N snorted and grinned at the dubious pardoning. Dean frowned quizzically and looked around the itty bitty wooden box.

“Now, do you know a back way out of this place?”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester smut #priest!dean

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sammysmaddy · 11 months

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Confessions (Dean x Reader)

Summary: When Y/N starts having some odd feelings, she turns to her religion to find the answers.

Pairing(s): Priest!Dean x Reader

Warning(s): dubcon, dark!dean, coercion, innocent!reader, religious/Christian themes, masturbation, manipulation, thoughts of p in v + creampie

W/C: 3.3k+

A/N: Short (for me) and sweet.

Masterlist

Dean had a love-hate relationship when confessions rolled around. He loved it because it was interesting to him quite frankly. He hated it because he enjoyed it for all the wrong reasons.

Dean enjoyed listening to people's problems, especially church members whom he rarely had the chance to converse personally with. He liked knowing what plagued their minds, and how they thought about the issues that they ran into. It brought Dean comfort to be reminded that he was not the only person who was a little messed up.

Dean himself confessed often too. Every week he would confess that he enjoyed listening to other people's confessions, and it soon turned into an endless cycle. He always confessed his sins, committed them afterward, and then confessed again.

It wasn't very often that Dean spent less than an hour in that tiny box, but today was different. Nobody showed up. Not his regulars who came in every single week- not even his regulars who asked to confess multiple times a day.

After thirty minutes or so, Dean decided that it was appropriate to lock the shop up. He stood up, straightened the creases in his pants, and went to open the door.

Dean was surprised to see Y/N sitting on the bench just in front of the confession box. When their eyes met, it was clear to Dean that Y/N was just as surprised- only in a much different way.

"I'm so sorry, Father Dean," Y/N looked up at Dean with wide eyes, very similar to that of a deer in front of headlights.

"Sorry for what, Y/N?" Dean could tell she was scared, so he did his best to ask her softly. He wanted her to feel that she could come to him for any reason.

"I've just been sitting here," Y/N raked her fingernails up and down her arm, looking down as she answered.

"And what's so wrong with sitting here? Not comfortable enough?" Dean chuckled as he stepped a bit closer to the young girl.

"Because I haven't confessed yet. I can't bring myself to do it." Y/N sighed, looking at Dean as he decided to take a seat next to her.

"Are you scared?" Dean asked though it wasn't necessary, and she nodded her head. "When I was your age, I had a hard time going to confessions too."

"Really?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Of course," Dean replied, finding a small amount of humor in her shocked expression. "I haven't met a single person who hasn't been nervous at least once before confessions."

Y/N nodded her head slowly as Dean clasped his hands in his lap. He watched her face as it calculated his words, and wondered to himself what was going on through her brain.

Quiet was the only word that came to mind when Dean thought about Y/N. He knew her father and though Dean considered him a decent man, Dean knew how hard he was on her. It was something that her father always mentioned in confessions because he felt guilty for being so strict.

Y/N was very clearly affected by this. Even though she was an adult, she always listened to her parents, she got good grades at her community college, and she always attended church and all of its events. When she went to confession, she very rarely had anything to say. The worst Dean had heard from her was that she stayed out five minutes later than her father's predetermined curfew.

With that in mind, Dean was dying to know what she was planning to confess to him today.

"Do you want to talk about it, Y/N?" Dean asked and watched as she contemplated his offer. "If it makes you feel better, I can go back into the box and you can join me."

Nodding her head at the proposal, Dean stood up. Y/N followed suit as Dean got into the box, closing the door behind him whilst he waited for her to get settled on the other side.

"Whenever you're ready, Y/N. There's no need to rush." Dean did his best to comfort her, empathizing with the fact that sometimes big confessions weren't so easy.

"Thank you, Father," Y/N hummed quietly. After a few seconds, she spoke up again, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confession."

"Would you like to start with a prayer?" Dean asked and once she answered, they preyed together for a few minutes before beginning.

"I don't know how to say this," Y/N admitted once she began.

"Well, luckily for you, that's pretty normal," Dean comforted her. "Oftentimes our thoughts are hard to put into words, but I'm here to guide you. What's on your mind?"

"I've been feeling... weird. I don't even know how to explain it." Y/N went quiet again. It was as if she were too afraid to say the wrong thing.

"Would you mind describing the feeling to me?"

"It's been happening for a while now. At first, it only happened at night when I tried to fall asleep, but now it's happening throughout the day." Y/N explained and Dean nodded to himself.

"How long would you say you've had this feeling?"

"A few months probably,"

"And when you get this feeling, does it make you feel bad?" Dean questioned. He combed through his thoughts, not even close to sure what she could possibly be talking about.

"Sort of," Y/N answered before taking a few seconds to think. "I think it feels good, but I feel guilty because it feels like sinning."

"What are you thinking of when you get these feelings?" Arching his brow as he pondered, Dean seemed to be at a complete loss. At first, his mind went to dark places, but then he remembered who he was talking to.

"Everything, really. Mostly classmates but sometimes also church members. It depends on the day."

"So, when you think of these people, what do you think?"

"I think about..." Y/N paused, seemingly too afraid to admit her thoughts. "I think about being with them."

"Oh," Dean answered softly. "Well, that's okay, Y/N. It's not uncommon for people your age to begin wondering who they will marry eventually."

"I don't think about marrying them, Father," Y/N sounded down as she spoke.

"What do you think about then?" Dean blindly asked.

"I think about them touching me," Y/N hesitated, sighing uncomfortably through her admission.

"Touching you how?" Dean's eyes went wide as his expression remained soft. Never in a million years did Dean think Y/N could ever be capable of thoughts like that.

"Just... touching me. I don't know how to explain it." Y/N reiterated.

Dean didn't know why his body reacted the way it did, but he could almost instantly feel his cock stir to life. He cursed at himself under his breath, knowing how inappropriate the timing was.

It wasn't that Dean didn't find her attractive, because she was quite frankly one of the most objectively beautiful people that Dean had ever seen. It was that Dean had never seen her in that way. In his mind, she was like a family member to him, so it was confusing to feel what he was feeling at that moment.

"Have I done something wrong, Father?" Y/N asked after a few moments of silence.

"No, no, of course not," Dean cleared his throat as he straightened up in his seat. "I just needed a few moments to process."

"Oh, okay," Y/N sounded discouraged as Dean tried his best to think of what to say.

"So, when you think of others touching you, how do you imagine they touch you?" Dean asked for clarity, again cursing himself at the reaction it caused in his boxers.

"Like, just rubbing my arm or maybe running their fingers through my hair. I know how weird it sounds."

"It's not weird at all, Y/N." Dean sighed in relief, grateful that he wouldn't be having the uncomfortable conversation he originally thought would unfold. "What is the feeling that you have?"

"I feel butterflies in my stomach," Y/N answered. "I never thought it was a real thing, I thought it was just something that happened in the movies."

"Is it only certain people who give you these butterflies?" Dean inquired.

"Yes. It happens a lot when I think about Tommy. And when I think about Mike. And John. And sometimes even you." Y/N took a brief pause as Dean's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "I don't know why it feels so bad to enjoy these thoughts. It feels like I'm doing something wrong."

"I don't think it's a bad thing to feel, and maybe you're mistaking those butterflies for comfort," Dean explained, thinking of an example to give her. "It brings me comfort to think of embracing my loved ones."

"I don't think it's comfort, Father. It feels uncomfortable when it happens."

"But you enjoy the feeling?" Dean probed, realizing that maybe he didn't understand. Y/N hummed her agreeance. "What part of it makes you feel uncomfortable?"

"Because it's not only in my stomach," She answered.

Dean's face scrunched in confusion before his mouth dropped, finally registering her words. Feeling a pulse, his body reacted more and more to her words. He used his palm to press down on his steadily growing erection, hoping to suppress the untimely pleasure that he was experiencing.

"Father Dean?" Y/N questioned and Dean realized that he, once again, forgot to reply.

"Sorry, Y/N," Dean cleared his throat again.

Sighing as he softly placed his head back against the thin wall, Dean realized that the palm pressed against his crotch was doing the exact opposite of what it was meant to. He couldn't believe how good it felt to touch himself, regardless of whether or not that was what he intended to do.

"Where else is this feeling?" Dean felt half guilty for asking but soon justified that it was only part of his job to ask.

"It's lower... I don't want to say where." Y/N was clearly too embarrassed to clarify.

"This feeling is actually quite normal, Y/N," Dean reassured the young girl, shutting his eyes tight as his erection only grew. "It happens to almost every single one of us. In fact, it usually happens to others a lot younger than it happened to you."

"Really?" Y/N chuckled softly in relief. "I thought I was the only one."

"Definitely not," Dean nodded his head.

Dean removed his hand that was pressed against his aching member, deciding it was best to leave it alone. But after a few moments of no pressure, it was almost too painful to leave alone. Dean hadn't felt this way in a very long time. He felt like an unfortunately horny teenage boy about to give a presentation to his class.

"How do I fix it?" Y/N asked as Dean dealt with his own demons. "I've tried to stop thinking about it, but I just can't. I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried focusing on something else?" Dean asked as he decided that it was too overbearing to leave himself untouched. He reasoned that he was only touching himself so that he could continue to do his job properly and that he wasn't going to get off with Y/N next door.

"Yes, Father. But now I think about it all of the time. It's like a sickness that I just can't shake off."

Dean could obviously relate to her, especially when he considered that this was the first time she was experiencing being horny.

"And when it makes you uncomfortable, how do you help yourself?" Dean was in uncharted waters.

He had never had this conversation with a woman during confession and wasn't entirely sure what to say. Usually, he'd tell the young men going through puberty to sort themselves out and they'd understand, but he knew that it could sometimes be more complicated for women.

"I sometimes try to touch myself but I feel... gross," Y/N hesitated, sounding disappointed in herself.

"How do you feel gross?" Dean asked, his cock now screaming to be taken out of his boxers.

"I just feel dirty, Father. Like I am evil for enjoying it." She admitted.

Dean realized that he was unconsciously rubbing his palm over his cock and that he was only making it worse.

"Have you ever... gotten off?" Dean wasn't sure why he asked.

It was like all of his impulsive thoughts had taken over his mind and body. As Dean mindlessly did his best to unbutton his pants, he went back and forth between feeling guilty and reasoning with his actions.

"I don't know how," Y/N answered after a few seconds, causing Dean's entire body to shiver.

Dean's body confused him as he impulsively thought of Y/N touching herself. He had never once imagined her in this situation, much less even thought of her in a sexual manner, so he wasn't quite sure why she was eliciting this reaction from him.

"Have you ever actually tried before?" Dean was no longer justifying himself in his mind.

His hand had a mind of its own and all feelings of guilt were pushed aside as he reached into his boxers, fully prepared to ask Y/N whatever he needed to in order to get off.

"I always start and then I stop. It feels like God is watching me." Dean could practically feel her regret as he slowly stroked his cock.

"What do you do when you touch yourself?" Dean continued to stroke his throbbing member as slowly as he could so that she wouldn't be able to hear him.

"I usually start by feeling myself through my clothes," Y/N admitted with little resistance. "And I've tried touching down there but... I can't do it."

"What's stopping you? Because it makes you feel gross?" Dean probed, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked down at his rock-solid member. Y/N hummed in agreeance.

Dean knew that he should have ended the session as soon as he got a hard-on. He knew that it wasn't too late to end it even now but for whatever twisted reason, he didn't want to. Plus, again, to justify his actions, Y/N clearly needed help.

"Well," Dean hesitated, knowing how incredibly immoral his next sentence was going to be. "Why don't you try it with somebody you trust?"

"Like you, Father?" Y/N inquired and Dean felt his heart race.

"I can try to make you feel more comfortable experiencing those thoughts. Then you can go home and try to finish the job." Dean stroked his cock a bit faster, still trying his best to be as quiet as possible.

"Right now?" Y/N questioned again and Dean did his best to fight back a groan at the sound of her voice.

"If you want," Dean placed the ball in her court, hoping that she would agree. He figured she had no idea how screwed up his request was.

"Oh- okay," Y/N hesitated before answering.

"Are you ready?" Dean asked, going slower with his hand. Y/N purred a positive reply as Dean heard her shift around. "I want you to close your eyes and think about somebody touching you."

"Mhm," Y/N answered, before continuing on. "Can I... can I imagine you?"

It took Dean by surprise and further instilled his belief that she had no idea how wrong this was. Dean figured that her father must have never taught her about sex. The idea of Y/N going home to touch herself at the thought of Dean made him nearly burst.

"Of course," Dean threw his head back, biting his lip as he choked on a moan. "Now, where am I touching you?" Dean asked, feeling as his proximity to finishing got closer.

"All over, Father Dean," Y/N answered in a hushed voice.

"More specific, Y/N," Dean directed her on.

"You're touching my breasts," Y/N replied and Dean's cock throbbed in his hand in return.

"And how does that make you feel?"

"It makes me feel really good," She hummed.

Dean could sense that she was getting more comfortable as they continued talking, and Dean wasn't about to stop now anyway.

"And if I were to start touching you lower, how would that make you feel?" Dean stroked his cock faster, not sure how much longer he could take without climaxing.

"I think it would feel good," Y/N answered.

Y/N obviously wasn't very experienced and the somewhat naive state that she was in seemed to turn Dean on even more. He wanted to be the first to show her the ropes, but he didn't want to scare her away or reveal their secrets to the church.

As much as Dean wanted to take her right then and there, he knew he had to be smart about it. Dean knew he would have to take his time with Y/N because not only did she deserve that, he also couldn't afford to lose his job.

"Why don't you go home with that, and come see me again in my office soon? We will work through this and I will help you through every single step of the way." Dean wanted to sound reassuring to ensure that Y/N would go and find him later.

"Yes, of course, Father Dean," Y/N complied. "Thank you so much."

As far as Dean could tell, she sounded excited or perhaps more hopeful than she was when the session started. However, Dean was fully aware that it could be the product of his horny mind distorting her tone into a more positive one.

Dean sat still for a second, waiting to hear her leave the confession box. Once he heard the door open and close, he began to pump himself in his hand again.

Dean had never given the time of day to think about Y/N in this manner. Now that he was, the thought of touching her all over made him feel incredibly horny.

He imagined grabbing Y/N's breasts as she described, then dipping his fingers into her panties only to find a warm, wet cunt. Dean imagined the sounds she would make- how it would take all of his efforts not to cum just by the sound of her whines.

Dean could practically feel how tight she would be and could even hear the noises that he imagined she would make once he finally buried himself inside of her. He wrapped his hand even tighter around his cock, trying to replicate the feeling of her slick walls around him.

He then imagined what she would sound like when she called his name and wondered if she would be loud or quiet when he began to slam himself inside of her. Dean thought that she'd try to be quiet at first, as she was often a very reserved woman, but he figured that he would have her screaming after only a few seconds.

Imagining watching himself slide into her over and over again, Dean then pictured himself using his free thumb to rub soft circles over her clit. He then began to feel the way that Y/N's body reacted to his touch, clenching around him as she got closer to her own climax.

As Dean continued to iron out the details with his eyes closed, he replayed the scene of Y/N cumming all over his cock over and over again, wanting to cum in sync with her.

When Dean finally figured out exactly how he wanted Y/N to sound and imagined her wrapping her legs around his body, pulling him even deeper, he felt the band inside of him finally snap.

Dean swallowed his moans, tensing his entire body as he continued to pump himself feverishly. As he rode out his climax, he imagined slowly pumping into her as they both came, kissing one another passionately in his mind as they began to feel a euphoria wash over them.

Whilst Dean recuperated from the most intense orgasm he'd experienced in a while, he laid his head against the wall. All he could think about was how excited he was to begin his newfound journey with Y/N.

•••

Tag List ❤️

@hobby27 @writethelifeyouwant @deeranger

#supernatural #fanfic #spn #spnfamily #darkfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #priest!dean #preacher!dean #Dean #Dean x Reader

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eringobragh420 · 1 month

Text

WWE/AEW

Damian Priest Seth Rollins Roman Reigns Jey Uso Jimmy Uso Solo Sikoa Cody Rhodes Randy Orton Gunther Rhea Ripley Liv Morgan Finn Balor Jon Moxley/Dean Ambrose

SUBJECT MATTER

NO: children under 18, pedophilia, necrophilia, just general ickiness YES: smut (noncon, cnc included), angst, drama, fluff, violence, minor gore

#damian priest x reader #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #fic request #wwe fanfiction #seth rollins x reader #roman reigns x reader #jey uso x reader #jimmy uso x reader #solo siko x reader #cody rhodes x reader #randy orton x reader #gunther x reader #rhea ripley x reader #finn balor x reader #jon moxley #dean ambrose

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whorefordean · 7 months

Text

i need to read a priest!dean fic right now oh my god

#i saw a tiktok edit #dean winchester #supernatural #priest!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #<3 - dear diary

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triplehmunson · 1 year

Text

🅨🅞🅤 🅑🅔🅛🅞🅝🅖 🅣🅞 🅜🅔 :

Dean Ambrose x Dominik Mysterio x reader

𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:

You are the younger sister of Rhea Ripley who belongs to Judgment Day, they are currently enemies of The Shield once at an after party that WWE organized after Money in the Bank, by fate you run into the half-lunatic Dean Ambrose member from The Shield which, upon seeing you, is impressed with your beauty, likewise you impact Dominik Mysterio, a member of Judgment Day, with your beauty, but what you did not know is that one of them would end up becoming obsessed with you to the point of k1lling whoever crosses your path path.

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀:

You

Dominik Mysterio

Rhea Ripley

Dean Ambrose

Damian Priest

Finn Balor

Roman Reigns

Seth Rollins

Hey this is my first history here on Tumblr because I have motivation lol, It is also to avoid leaving the account inactive, I hope to have your support. 🤠

#wwe the judgement day #wwe fanfiction #wwepov #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x female reader #dean ambrose #dean x reader #roman reigns #rhea ripley #damian priest #finn balór #seth rollins #triplehmunson #Dreamingwandapovs #Dreamingwanda #wwe superstars #the shield

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wildwestdean · 3 months

Text

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

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bunnysbrainrot · 7 months

Text

Sinners - Teaser

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual content, teasing, more kinks and details to come with the full version, nothing too warning-worthy right now?

Summary: Disguised as a priest and nun on a case, time alone with Sam back at your motel is everything but holy. The taboo of your situation has Sam dealing with some… impure thoughts. Will Sam be able to contain himself?

In the past few weeks you and the Winchesters uncovered some suspicious deaths in a remote area of Georgia. The locations of the tragedies spanned over 50 miles apart, meaning that the team had to split up to cover more ground. Dean had split from you and Sam two days ago, and the night before in the motel had been fairly normal. It seemed like Dean did this on purpose; you had drunkenly admitted to him of your affection for his younger brother.

Whether or not Sam knew of this, you had no clue. And now in your nun getup, it was all too fitting that you began to pray that Sam was unaware. The two of you calmly made your way past the yellow police tape, preparing warm smiles for a victim’s family.

Sam knocked on the door, letting out a bated breath. Weren’t nuns supposed to dress modestly? Your outfit was the proper attire, but the way it hugged your curves left too much to Sam’s imagination. It was his turn to pray that it didn’t stir too much in him, to let him keep his composure.

An older man answered the door, his expression easing at the sight of your attire. Turns out this costume was better received than you thought. You had to channel your tone and proper verbiage before speaking.

“Apologies for showing up unannounced, Mr. Peters. I’m Father Jeremy, and this is our sister from a local church.” Sam waved a hand for you to introduce yourself.

You chose to use your name, seeing that this was your first nun-appearance.

“We’re here on behalf of the church to offer support for your family, but we also have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”

Hopefully there were no questions about the nearest Catholic church, otherwise this whole façade would crumble. Mr. Peters’ face only softened further.

“I’m glad you’re here, Father, Sister,” he addressed you with a sad smile, “Please, come in.”

Sam stepped in first, using a beckoning finger behind him to have you follow him. The house was modest, but eloquently decorated. You recalled the murder that had happened, that brought you to this town, and shuddered. Mr. Peters’ daughter had been brutally murdered and discarded in a creek, signs indicating the presence of a vampire. Their daughter had been missing for two weeks before the time of death, which is what you and Sam aimed to discover.

“Mr. Peters, we are part of a youth outreach program at the church. Our aim is to help troubled youth, with restorative services and social connection. We were wondering if your daughter had any odd behaviors before she went missing. Perhaps she became more secluded?”

The man looked confused at first, “Odd behavior?”

Sam gave a small nod, “We notice that teenagers in need of help oftentimes become more distant with their families. Our goal is to provide better services to our youth, which does include finding the source issue.”

Mr. Peters have a small background of his daughter, admitting that she had become distant with the family. Not just that, but her anger had only worsened, amongst several harmful habits. It wasn’t uncommon for teens to become immersed in the occult and all things dark, but being surrounded by the wrong people can lead to harmful connections.

“I see,” Sam started, “and do you know what kind of people she was surrounding herself with?”

Another confused look from Mr. Peters.

You added, “This way, we’re able to identify warning signs - things to be wary of as our youth members meet new people.”

This seemed to clear things up, bringing out a detailed recount of his daughter’s recent social group. But, their social media had been recently deleted, preventing the family from getting their closure. As far as they knew, their daughter had made new friends, ran from home, and was found brutally murdered.

Sam’s eyes darted to you when you shifted in your seat, the fabric of your black dress sliding gracefully along your thighs. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but seeing you dressed up like this sent his mind spinning. The last thing he should be thinking of is taking you dressed like this, but he couldn’t shake it. His mind raced of scenarios the two of you could create, each one dirtier than the last.

But right now, the task at hand was covering the tightness of his pants. He leaned forward, the broad muscles of his arms flexing beneath his black shirt. Blush creeped onto your cheeks, much to the attention of Mr. Peters, who looked at you with concern.

“Sister, are you feeling alright?”

You nodded and gave a small wave, “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little warm is all. I apologize.”

Mr. Peters stood, “No need to apologize, let me get you some cold water. I’ll only be one moment.”

The room had gone oddly quiet paired with Sam’s intent stare at your face. You turned to find a concerned Sam inspecting you fully.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked softly.

A slight nod, “Yeah, it’s just stuffy in this outfit.”

“Well, once we’re back at the motel we can get you out of it.”

A beat later Sam realized how that sounded. He tried to backtrack, but Mr. Peters had already returned with your glass of water, which you gratefully sipped on. It took everything in your power to resist the images that came to mind. Sam’s hands roaming your body, stripping that baggy dress off of your body, his mouth finding every nook and cranny of your neck.

Sam seemed to have taken over the conversation for the last few moments before standing. Mr. Peters had already given a short list of his daughter’s friends, and their usual hang-out spots. Your attention snapped back to reality; you placed the water glass down with a small thank you, being pulled up by Sam.

His hand could practically wrap the entirety of your arm, his grip stable and warm. Goosebumps rose on your arms, brushing against the tough fabric of your dress. The air outside carried the comfort of fall, the breeze being cool and refreshing on your hot cheeks.

At the car, Sam reached for your door to open it for you, something completely new to the both of you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes. The movements he made to reach the handle had pulled your bodies dangerously close, fully brush against his chest, pressed into the car. A inexplicable scenario that would raise a few eyebrows, for certain.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to trip on your dress,” breathed Sam.

Honestly, he was thankful for the little slip up - being this close to you had been a wish of his, but there had never been any excuse for it to happen. Your focus shifted from his soft, hazel eyes down to his parted lips. Sam’s attention shifted to your lips, lowering to your chest for a split second. A selfish move on his part, but the damage had already been done.

Your hand fumbled for the door handle, fingers sliding over his own. The two of you shared another longing glance before getting you into the car. Sam tucked in loose bits of your dress so the door wouldn’t snag on them.

“Alright, hands and feet it, watch out,” he whispered. You noticed how his hands fumbled more than usual, surely due to the nerves. Perhaps you had been reading this wrong, maybe you had taken things too far? Maybe you had overstepped and embarrassed him?

“Thank you,” you replied, giving him a genuine smile. Sam’s cheeks flushed, unmistakably a sign that maybe your anxieties been just that. Simple anxieties from overthinking this whole thing.

Now settled in the car, the two of you made the trip back to the motel. After stepping inside you beelined for the bathroom.

At least, until Sam’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, could I talk to you about something?”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised. You’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“What’s up?”

With the silence in the room, you took the cue to sit on the bed. Sam towered in comparison, his lean physique defined by the lamplight.

His voice softened, “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to get that close, I-“

“Sam, it’s okay,” you cut him off with a laugh, “don’t worry about it. I wasn’t bothered by it.”

He relaxed his shoulders. Sam began to dig through his bag for another set of clothes.

“You look good as a priest, by the way. You sell the bit nicely,” you stated.

What you said made his heart skip a beat. Was that a compliment, or just conversation? Sam couldn’t tell, so he turned to you once more with a goofy grin on his face.

“Thanks,” his expression darkened as his eyes raked you over, “You look good as a nun.”

There was no mistaking it - he was taking his time looking over you. Your breath hitched in your throat when he turned, leaned casually against the desk your bags laid on. You transfixed on the way his hands moved around his belt buckle. Mildly fiddling, but you couldn’t help but imagine him following through.

“Not my best outfit, but thank you,” you replied. Sam pushed away from the desk, slowly stepping toward the bed where you sat, tense with every step.

“I would agree there, you’ve worn better,” he commented.

You head snapped up to meet his eyes. A surprise note of flirtation filled your voice.

“Okay, so what’s my best outfit, then?”

He scoffed, “We playing twenty questions?”

You pointed to your outfits, smirking proudly at him, “Look at our getup, man, it’s like a confessional.”

A bright laugh came out of Sam; he tilted his head back as he thought.

“My answer isn’t exactly… appropriate.”

“Sam,” you laughed, “Confessional. You gotta tell me.”

He let out a groan before lowering his head, steadily giving you his answer, “Your dark jeans, and that long sleeve shirt. The, um… the one with the v-neck, you wore it almost every day over winter.”

“And that was inappropriate?”

“It’s why I like it that’s inappropriate.”

“Okay, then, why do you like it?”

The last thing you expected was for Sam to close the distance. He stepped until he was directly ahead, arms crossed over his chest as he locked eyes with you.

“It made your ass look nice.”

His tone was surprisingly serious, like he had been thinking of this answer for a while.

“Hugs your body in the right ways. And it makes your, well, chest… look nice.”

Sam humored your shocked expression but pushing things further. If you could dish it out, he could dish it back.

“What’s my best outfit?”

As you collected yourself, Sam stepped closer, bringing a hand to your cheek. He lifted your head, his thumb grazing over your cheek.

“It’s a confessional. You have to tell me,” he joked, earning a slight glare from you. That sour face melted away when Sam placed his hand beneath your chin. He tilted your head back to have you look at him.

Shit.

“Jeans,” you breathed, “V-neck black shirt.”

Sam leaned in, brushing his lips across your cheek. The closeness set your skin ablaze, each trailing lip and finger sending shivers up your spine.

“Is that all?” Sam whispered.

His eyes met yours once again, a startling seriousness lurking inside. You pushed past the shyness of your answer. The honesty could break the tension that had building all this time.

“Pajama pants… no shirt. When you just get out of the shower.”

Sam’s lips curled into a satisfied smile before planting a slow kiss to your cheek. He moved gradually to your jawline, sprinkling chaste kisses until his lips hovered over yours.

“Have you wanted this?” he asked.

Your frustration was intangible - a bottle that had been shaken too much, and ready to blow. He was centimeters, millimeters away from giving you what you’d truly wanted. The silence between you signified the utter defiance to give him this so easily.

“Confessional,” Sam’s voice reverberated against you, but he offered nothing to your pleading lips, “tell me, little nun, have you thought about this? Wanted my lips on yours?”

A small whine escaped you as Sam’s hand lowered to your throat, pressing softly to the tender flesh. The loss of blood flow muddled your thoughts into complete ecstasy, with no urgency to regain control. With just one move, it was clear to Sam that you were undoubtedly his.

You gave him a small nod. A low growl thundered in his chest before pressing into you further, laying you flat on the bed. Locks of chestnut hair framed your face, with a breathy Sam hovering his mouth over your neck.

“Nodding doesn’t count. You gotta use your words, sweetheart.”

Amidst the constriction on your throat you nodded and choked out a small, "Yes."

Sam's growing smile is all you need to know you've satisfied something deeper within him. Darkness floods his eyes seeing you like this, utterly at his will under his touch. If he'd known sooner that this would be the outcome, he'd have bought that nun outfit ages ago.

"That's better," he whispered.

------

Hi everyone! I know it's just a teaser for now, but I wanted to show you something I've been working on! I've also been pretty busy with work and writing for my book series, so things have been a bit busy for sure haha

I love you all, and I keep an eye out for the full version of Sinners!

#supernatural #spn fandom #supernatural smut #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #bunny writes #spn smut #smut writing #smut

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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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deansdelicate · 1 month

Text

I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER III: TRYING NOT TO FEEL IT

seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader

word count: [9.6K]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, slight mention of anxiety, pining and two idiots flirting not so subtly <3

🎧 the soundtrack

summary: You and Seth's paths are intersecting deeper than any of you anticipated. With a new storyline set to begin, it leaves you both filled with a yearning to know if it only ever will be platonic, even if biting the forbidden fruit is only just mindless dreaming.

Another week came with another Monday, and this time for you it meant not just being on screen, but finally getting the chance to work behind the scenes with one of your storylines being rolled out on Raw.

You were mentally ecstatic, finally getting a chance to be in your own element behind the camera, but your body told an entirely different story.

Exhaustion infested your bones, and the last thing on your mind was getting to TV, because all you wanted to do was sleep the day away. Your body was facing the consequences of the constant travel combined with jet lag that you were positive you’d never get used to.

Getting directly off a red eye only made matters worse, muscles aching with heaviness and longing desperately for your bed to make it all go away. The drive to the hotel offered limited solace, especially with the hustle and bustle of the city—road rage and honking keeping you up through the morning traffic jam during the stretch of time where you wanted to cram in more sleep.

Instead, you found yourself staring mindlessly out the window, taking in New York city through the tinted pane, zoning off into secret gardens in your mind, escaping into your thoughts, trying to get away from the chaos pulling you back.

And then, suddenly, everything shifted. The noise of the city seeming to fading into silence as a familiar name cut through the stereo’s hum.

“Welcome to the morning show. We’re joined by none other than the man and my personal favorite wrestler, Seth Rollins. How you doing, man?”

You perked up in your seat, a small smile becoming evident across your sleepy features, when his voice finally hit your ears.

“I’m doing great, looking forward to sight seeing the big apple after this. Thanks for having me.”

His voice sounded a little hoarse, fatigued from matches, the grueling travel schedule, and on top of that, having to do media in the early hours—nevertheless, it seemed as though he was championing it a lot better than you were. Clearly he was a veteran of the fast life already and you desperately needed to play catch up.

For the rest of the drive, you found yourself not only wide awake, but clinging to his voice as if he was the stimulant keeping you up. His laughter and quick wit filling the car, making you giggle despite his physical absence, that felt as if he was right there next to you all along.

You laid back, listening intently to the rest of the radio show. Eyes half closed as Seth talked about his run with Dean and Roman, his favorite matches he’s had, and some of the memorable cities he’s visited. He had so many stories to tell, and you surely wanted to pick his brain apart just so you could hear all of them and get to know him a little better.

“One last question before we let you go: Triple H’s daughter…” the radio host started curiously.

Seth hummed pleasantly, and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“What a debut am I right?” He spoke with a mixture of pride and affection.

Your stomach twisted into knots, teeth digging softly into your bottom lip as you tried to hold back a smile that you didn’t even realize was creeping upon you so feverishly.

“The pop she got was insane! What do you think about her so far?” The interviewer pressed for more, and suddenly you felt yourself becoming interested as you waited for Seth’s response.

“I mean other than being extremely impressed, I think the company is going to be in good hands when Triple H feels ready to pass the torch onto her.” Seth’s voice softening with sincerity as he went on.

“She’s a hard worker, and she’s hilarious, and she’s completely selfless.” Seth said, honestly.

“Any chance we can see you two working together?” The interviewer prodded, a teasing tone in his voice.

Seth laughed lightly. “Oh man, I don’t know what the future holds, but if there ever comes an opportunity, I would love to work with her.” He admitted, making you feel giddy all over as you hung your head and tried to fight the smile.

“You heard it here first, ladies and gents…”

His voice was like a looped track echoing over and over again in your mind—the cadence of every answer memorized like the melody to your favorite song.

And even then, when hours passed, you couldn’t help but still feel warm all over just thinking about all the generous things he had to say about you. It was one of the qualities you admired about him the most despite the short measure of time you knew him for. All of things he said to your face, was the same things he said when you weren’t around—a kind of authenticity that was rare to come across.

Music blared through your phone speakers, resounding off the bathroom walls where you found yourself conflicted as to why you still couldn’t shake Seth’s kind words even after the time had passed. Everyone else had met you with the same kindness that he showed you, but not in the way that left you reeling the way Seth did.

But before you could ponder it any longer and get too in your head than you already were, a knock echoed against your hotel door, prompting you to pull back from the bathroom mirror and hit pause on your phone’s music, strolling over and taking a peak through the peephole to see who it was.

You grinned, unlocking the door and opening it wide to reveal your dad on the other side, already dressed in his suit ready to head out to the arena.

“Hey honey,” He embraced you in a hug before you stepped aside, letting him step into your room, “What time did you get in?”

“A little after nine,” you replied, retreating back to the bathroom to finish up your makeup and you continued to talk, “I checked in and decided to nap. I nearly slept through my alarm, but I’m all rested now.”

Originally, you both had planned to travel together, as you often did when arriving in new cities. But your dad had to cut his weekend short, heading out the morning after your sister’s birthday to join the crew because they were short a producer for the local house show. Knowing your dad, you had mentally begun preparing for more solo trips, seeing as though he was always prone to travel changes now that he was the big boss in charge.

“I forgot to ask, how was dinner last Friday?” He leaned against the doorframe, changing the subject after realizing over the weekend you hadn’t talked about work at all.

You barked out a laugh, trying not to poke your eye out while you combed the mascara through your lashes.

“The food was delicious, and everyone was great. They’re all really nice and welcoming—I even told them about the whole ‘suck it!’ car gate situation.”

Your dad smiled upon hearing you talk about the night so up beat, relieved that you were making friends with everyone since you were going to start seeing them more often than not.

He knew that being on the road meant the constant change of scenery, which in some ways were great for your writing process, but it also brought a certain kind of loneliness with not having any established friends around to keep you company—but thankfully that was all starting to change.

“That’s nice. I’m glad you’re feeling a bit settled.” He chuckled with satisfaction, happy that you weren’t miserable on the road after all the convincing he had to do to get you on board.

“Nepotism apparently makes great conversation starters.” You quipped finished up your mascara.

Sure, you loved being in the comfort of your hometown where you grew up and where all of your family and friends were just a drive away when you needed to see them most. And it certainly wasn’t easy coming to terms that your new job meant a lack of permanence but you knew you could adjust with the more time that went on, and you were positive that you could balance your home and the town you were a guest in.

“I actually wanted to talk about your final storyline,” He paused for a moment, catching your eyes in the mirror’s reflection as you stared anxiously.

“I read through it and man…it’s good.”

Your dad smiled proudly, prompting you to squeal mainly out of relief and clapped your hands frantically. He didn’t know why you were so nervous when he was constantly in awe of everything you created, even since you were a child with a rapid imagination that he couldn’t even keep up with.

“I honestly thought you’d hate it because it’s so work.” You whispered, reaching for your powder compact and a brush, beginning to swirl the bristles into the product and tapping the excess off.

“Does it require me to do a little more work? Yeah.” He laughed, as you half rolled your eyes, gliding the brush across your face as he went on.

“But I think if we do some chemistry reads with the superstars we can find the right fit. And if not, then we’ll put a pin in it. It’s still a good script. We just need the right people to play it out.”

You were pleased with his feedback, and if anyone knew creative direction as well as you did, it was your father. You trusted him enough with your ideas, and he respected them all to want to ensure they were brought to life as vividly as they could be.

You both were like the perfect little dream team, and you couldn’t have been happier to have the best boss and father in one person.

“Look at you using my director lingo.” You mocked with a smirk, tipping the brush at him while he rolled his eyes.

“Hurry up and a pin in this,” He retorted, gesturing to the messy bathroom counter, “We’ll drive down to the arena together.”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you in the lobby?” You replied, getting up close in the mirror to see if you needed any last touch ups.

“Preferably in the next ten minutes.” He scoffed, shooting you a knowing look as he pressed off the door frame.

“Shoo!” You waved him off with a grunt, and he snickered his way out the door, leaving you to it.

Arriving at the arena a few hours early was far better than the early morning drive that consisted of bumper to bumper traffic, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss Seth’s voice over the radio to listen to throughout the way.

You guessed it was just you being a little self absorbed, loving the way he spoke about you, but you decided to steer clear of thinking too much of it because no way did it mean anything deeper than him just being a kind person.

As you and your dad pulled up to the arena, you both rolled down the windows of the car, waving hello and smiling for pictures with fans who waited outside the parking garage gates. Heading inside, you and your dad went separate ways, you dropping your stuff off into your office and heading to set where you were going to be working behind the camera.

The camera crew and sound engineers were already getting set up in a quiet hallway, where the lights were purposely dimmed for dramatic effect. You took it upon yourself to say hello and catch up with everyone as you got mic’d up and helped frame the shot for the pre-recorded promo that would air later in the show.

Soon after, you felt a tap on your shoulder, and there towered over you the one and only Braun Strowman.

“Hey! You excited?” You said eagerly, removing the headsets from over your ears and letting them rest around your neck.

“You know I am.” He rubbed his hands together before giving you a small side hug.

Braun was still fairly new to the main roster with no big storyline or arch that truly set him apart from everyone else except his stature and strength. But ever since you had been tuning into the show for your storyline research, you knew wanted to develop him into a more prominent character and you were glad your dad approved of what you thought up for him.

“Did you want to change anything about the promo?” You asked, grabbing your binder to pull up his script.

He flipped through his copy, looking at you skeptically with a shrug as he pointed to a specific section.

“I’m sorta confused about how I should play this part.” He confessed, hoping you wouldn’t take his critique the wrong way.

You nodded, flipping to the same page as him and reading it to yourself to refresh your memory of what you had planned. You reassured him with another nod, retrieving a red ballpoint pen for edits as you waved him over to a nereby cart where you two could go over what he wanted to change.

“Do you want to go through it and then we can feel out what you want to change?” You suggested, already beginning to make notes in the margins of the script.

“You sure?” He rose his brow, expecting you to tell him to do what he was asked, instead of trying to wiggle his way into the writer’s room.

“Of course!” You nodded, and he began to get into the parts he required more clarity on and the suggestions he had for his character.

You two spent a total of fifteen minutes, revising and going over the script, and much to his surprise, and the entire crew who were listening in, you took every single suggestion with stride and trusted Braun completely to do what he felt resonated with his character and the overall promo. All the edits and suggestions he made were approved, and you were happy he felt comfortable enough to come and tell you why he felt it was right to do so.

You watched closely on the monitors as Braun stood in front of the camera, situatating himself on his mark, before you peered past the lens and counted him down.

“Okay, we’re rolling in 3…2…” your voice died out, giving him the thumbs up and he began his promo.

Seth watched from the opposite end of the hallway, not paying too much attention to the words leaving Braun’s mouth, but more so the sight of you looking as if you were in your natural habitat. You silently helped the camera man pan in different directions as you followed Braun’s movement and gave him cues to speak louder or pause.

Usually in pre-taped segments or promos there were a lot of stopping and reshooting, most times because the producers wanted it absolutely perfect. However with you the process seemed a lot more laid back. A less stressful environment that they were used to back when Vince was around constantly picking apart everything to the point where everyone felt like they didn’t have any say whatsoever.

“And cut!” You announced out, clapping your hands as Braun relaxed up and came back around the camera to see what you thought.

Seth watched as you two exchanged a few words and nods, happy with the product that it didn’t need another take, so the crew began to clear out. You embraced in a quick hug, patting his back, before you spun around to get your mic and ear piece removed.

Seth then made his way to you, brushing past Braun in the process and giving each other a handshake before the giant went down another turn in the hallway.

“Hey, hey Ms. Director.” He chirped happily, getting your attention.

A smile immediately crossed your features, looking over your shoulder while your fingers fidgeted behind your back removing your mic and handing it off to a stagehand.

“Hey you,” you grinned, arms crossing over your chest, glad that he was stopping by to say hello.

“How was the sightseeing?” You eyed the wristband wrapped around his joint, the same one you recognized from the other superstars you ran into who had the pleasure of sightseeing the Statue Of Liberty after media this morning.

Seth rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, frowning somewhat, “Gotta be honest with you, it was pretty anticlimactic.” He confessed, causing you to laugh lightly with a scorn.

“You didn’t happen to get one of those ‘I Heart New York’ shirts did you?” You joked, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“They did try to sell me one.” He retorted with a point of his finger.

In some odd way, the familiar knots that formed in your stomach when you listened to his voice over the radio were back again, only this time they kept you grounded, beaming warmly at him as warmth flushed over your skin. You knew it was nothing other than pure appreciation, guessing that if it was anyone else who said the things he did about you, you would be feeling the exact same emotions.

“Thanks for putting me over this morning.” You finally broke the momentary silence, politely reaching out to rest a cordial hand over his arm before dropping it back to your sides swiftly.

He thought for a moment, lifting his brows unknowingly not knowing what you were talking about before realization crossed his face. “You heard that?”

You giggled, nodding as you tucked your cheek into your shoulder. “It helps when you have a driver who only ever listens to the local radio.”

“Well, I meant what I said.” He said sweetly, watching you nod, before looking down the hall.

“Your dad wants to see me in his office. It’s about some chemistry read?” He supposed curiously, wondering if you knew what it was about.

You tilted your head, surprised for a quick second that your dad thought of him for the male lead, but you understood why—especially when he possessed the talent for it.

“It’s my final assignment storyline.” You revealed, wringing your hands together nervously, hoping he would like the script when he read over it himself.

“Really?” He was stunned, thrilled to read what you had after learning about it last week. “ I guess I really gotta nail it.” He cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck comically.

“I’ll see you, Seth.” You waved.

“See you,” He nodded, heading in the opposite direction.

You thanked the crew who were still hanging around, before setting off to your office to relax and answer some emails prior to the show starting. To your surprise, when you got there Xavier and his buddies Big E and Kofi were lingering around and immediately perked up when they saw you coming around the corner.

“Ah, Ms. Levesque! I’ve been searching for you,” Xavier stood, holding his arms out excitedly as he did a curtsy.

“What can I do for you Mr. Woods?” You said in your best English accent, bowing slightly making them laugh.

“So I don’t know if you know, but I run a YouTube channel called UpUpDownDown.” He explained, and you nodded enthusiastically, pointing to him.

“Yeah! You had my mom and dad on there, right?” You laughed to yourself, remembering the time you stumbled upon the videos and proceeded to tease them about how not so tech savvy they were these days.

“Oh, man, you really did do your research.” He complimented, happy that you had a jist of what he did outside of the ring.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming on the show? I think the fans would really love it, plus I’m always looking for new people to game with.” He shimmied his shoulders, hoping you would be down for the opportunity.

You grinned, immediately nodding, “Do you have Mario Kart?”

“You know I do.”

“Then I’ll be there!”

You invited them into your office so that you and Xavier could sit down and go over a day to film the content. You both settled for the upcoming week during on an off day where there weren’t any scheduled house shows or media to get in the way and cut the day short. The three were incredibly funny and made you feel extra included which was great because you wanted to form friendships and bonds, not just soley being the new writer or boss’s daughter.

You were thankful that Xavier thought about you for his side hobby that he was incredibly passionate about, and it gave you the perfect excuse to sit back and relax without worrying about work. Soon after they said their goodbye’s, a knock echoed on your door and the familiar voice rang through on the other side.

“Ms. Levesque?” It was Eddie.

You went to open it, smiling when you saw him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Your dad wants to see you in his office.” He informed you, pointing down one side of the hallway as you stuck your head out.

“Did he say why?” You peered over at him and he shook his head with a shrug.

“Apparently, it has something to do with the chemistry reads, but that’s about all I know.”

“Okay, thank you.” You figured it’d be best to head to your father’s office first to see what he needed then get changed for the show.

“When you’re done, meet me in catering. You have some posters that need autographs, and we can catch up.” He offered with a smile, and you nodded.

Coming across your father’s office, you turned the knob, letting yourself in, assuming it must have been urgent if he sent Eddie as opposed to shooting you a text.

“Are we putting a pin in—hey!” You greeted, suddenly taken aback, with the setup in front of you.

A few creative members and producers sat along the elongated table with a camcorder set up on a tripod facing the opposite wall where none other than Seth sat, passing you a welcoming smile as he looked up from the script in his hands.

You smiled tightly, giving him a timid wave before peering over at your dad.

“You really weren’t joking when you said chemistry reads were you?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he handed you another copy of the script.

“Have a seat, sweetheart.”

Your dad pointed you towards the empty chair next to Seth and with everything happening so abruptly, you didn’t question his instruction and went right ahead and made yourself cozy next to the superstar.

“I want you to read from the first page to right about halfway through the second.” Your dad directed you, and you nodded, beginning to go through the lines that were practically seared into your brain from all the proofreading.

You and Seth both gawked over at your dad, waiting for his cue as he fidgeted with the camcorder, hitting the red button before giving you both a silent nod and a thumbs up.

“Isn’t there something bigger you should be chasing after? Like WWE Championship for instance?” You began, eyes looking up to meet Seth’s.

He chuckled, shaking his head, wearing a maniacal grin. “If you have already forgotten, let me remind you…I’ve already held the most prestigious championship in this company. I’ve carried this company on my back, and even when my knee gave out, I came back to reclaim what I never lost, and now I want something else.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to decode what he meant. “I can’t give you what you won’t say.”

“I’m looking at her.” He whispered, staring at you deeply as if you were the only person around.

Before you could get lost, a look of disgust covered your face, as you pulled back from him scoffing begrudgingly.

“You don’t possibly think I would want anything to do with you do you? I have my priorities straight and I don’t need you getting in the way of them.”

As Seth’s lips parted, getting ready to read the next line, your father cleared his throat, holding his palm up in the air and stopping you both as you looked in his direction.

“Now I want you both to improvise. Keep it rolling…” Your dad declared, guiding his hands in a tumbling motion and you both nodded getting ready to proceed.

Seth tsk’ed, fingers rolling up the script, as he tapped it against his leg.

“Haven’t you ever thought about it? The prodigy of Triple H, myself, and his genius daughter. What’s not to like about that?”

He smirked, looking you up and down before you promptly cut in, trying not to feel the warmth of your blood seizing in your veins. It was just improvising.

“You’re power hungry. Need I remind you this time that my father only did what he did because he wanted what was best for business? And sure, it might have gotten you high up that mountain, but it came crashing down just as fast when your loyalty meant nothing to him.” You retorted sharply, watching his smirk fall into a hurt expression.

“What makes you think I’m still that man? I changed, I became better, and I am better than I ever was before.” His voice suddenly held a gentleness, as if he was trying to prove himself to you.

You stayed indifferent, pressing yourself forward as you spoke with a sternness he couldn’t look away from.

“You’ll get clouded by that same power hungry haze sooner or later. You’ll never be able to outgrow the man that stabbed your bothers in the back with a steel chair, the man that sold out for his own success, and the man who reclaimed it all not because he was destined to, but because you care all too much about proving you aren’t who people think you are because you’re scared it might truer than you think.”

You both held eye contact, searching each other’s eyes for a fleeting moment all before a faint applaud broke the scene and caused you both to grin and look over at the table and your father who seemed rather fascinated with the chemistry you had.

“Was that any good?” You bit down on your lip anxiously, hoping their applause wasn’t strictly out of pity for your mediocre acting.

Your father stopped the recording, passing you a sly and proud nod.

“If I say ‘yes’ does it mean that you’re okay with starring in your own storyline with Seth?” He responded with a convincing expression.

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He nodded and chuckled, walking around to stand in front of you both.

“We couldn’t find anyone who meshed well with the script playing opposite of Seth. Originally, I was going to put a pin in it, but I figured I might as well give you a shot before I called it off.” He explained.

“I mean, if it’s okay with you then I’d be glad to do it.” You sputtered, looking over at Seth with a mix of uncertainty and excitement.

The superstar immediately nodded, washing away your initial worry about him needing to work with a rookie like you. It was safe to say that you were clearly still getting used to be on camera, and you didn’t want to hinder the path of Seth’s career that was on a steady incline.

“I’d be dumb to turn this down. I would love to work with you on your very own storyline.” He grinned, your knees knocking into one another when he reached out for you to shake his hand as if you both were sealing the deal.

You clutched his softly, his hands giving yours a tender yet encouraging squeeze before you released at the sound of your father clapping his hands.

“Well, it’s settled…do you guys want to start tonight?”

Your eyes widened, looking at him in disbelief “T-tonight?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged, knowing you and Seth’s characters needed a little revamp, a different storyline would help a ton, “A little run in segment in the middle of the show. It’ll be great for your character and we can get the ball rolling on this thing.”

“We can work something out before the show,” Seth suggested, pulling out his phone to check the time, flashing it to you, “We have plenty of time.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds somewhat reassuring.” You gave him a small smile, turning to your dad. “Do we have to hit anything specific?”

“The audience should know you know about him and his history, and that you aren’t too fond. That’s about it.” He looked back at the table of producers and writers who agreed.

“Wanna meet in my office in like ten minutes? I just have to get changed.” You looked down at yourself, still dressed in jeans and a fitted tee, plus some sneakers.

Seth nodded, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “I’m gonna head to catering for a little and I’ll come right over.”

You both got up, taking a moment to say thank you to everyone who approved of your script to get it this far this early. Seth took an extra moment to give his thanks to your dad who picked him out of the many superstars that could’ve fulfilled the role instead. As you exited his office, you pointed Seth down to where he could find you before you both waved a quick goodbye.

Seth had a smile glued to his face on the walk to catering, pleased that it was you who he was working with on a storyline that frankly was entirely different from any other he worked on in the past.

He certainly didn’t expect himself to be picked for the role, and to be fair he was a bit hesitant to take it because he knew your script deserved the utmost justice being served to it.

But when your dad called for Eddie to find you for the read, he just knew there was no way he would be able to let anyone else play the part beside himself if it meant getting to work with you.

It was safe to say Seth was in good spirits, honored that it was him getting to work with you for your first big storyline. And while he couldn’t take you on a proper coffee outing to thank you for last week, and now the storyline under his belt—he could totally try to make you the best cup of instant coffee to make up for it.

He walked through catering doors, making a beeline for the beverage table and retrieving two cups as he got to work.

“Did you get cut too?” Finn called out to him from the table nearby.

Seth chuckled, shaking his head as he twisted the spigot of the jug to dispense some of the coffee into the cups.

“Actually, no.”

“So who are they pairing you with?” Renee suspected, keeping her eyes on him curiously.

“Nattie?” Charlotte wondered, knowing she was also called in for the chemistry read earlier in the day.

“Over my dead body.” TJ called out from another table, causing them all to laugh.

“Sasha?” Finn pressed once again.

“Nope.” Seth said quickly, ripping two sugar packets and pouring it into your cup.

“Boss lady?” Roman called out jokingly.

Seth’s silence was all they needed to hear and before he could even tell them the good news, the entire room was filled with “oh’s” and “ah’s” coming from left and right.

“No fucking way.” Dean hailed, pressing his hands against the table, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“How in the hell did you manage to get paired up with her?” Renee choked, perplexed and entertained by the sudden news.

“Paul, made the call,” Seth exhaled annoyingly, turning to them as he stirred the contents of your cup. “He called her in to read and it just felt natural. We meshed and now we’re working together.”

The group of wrestlers whistled like a bunch of high schoolers struck with the fact that their very own friend was getting closer and closer to the principal’s daughter—or at least that’s how Seth saw it. Sure, they were all grown adults, but his friends especially were guilty of their childish play and this was one of those moments he wished ended sooner, but they were only getting started.

“Maybe Paul knew all along he wanted you and her together, and he held that meeting last week mostly for you.” Kofi quipped and everyone laughed, making him roll his eyes.

“Yeah, right, are you getting paid for these conspiracy theories?” Seth scoffed, shooting them all a glare.

“No, but I do know I’m not the one who’s potentially going to get his ass fired by Triple H if I get too cozy with his daughter!” He boosted, as everyone shook his hand and laughed cheekily.

“You wanna know what I think?” Seth got ready to leave, wrapping his hands around the warm cups.

“Please enlighten us Mr. Monday Night.” Renee grinned, propping her chin up on her fist.

Seth scanned the entire room with a smug smirk on his face. “That you guys are jealous that I’m the first one out of all of us to get a script written by her and I get to work with her.”

“Oh, shut it!” Charlotte rolled her eyes as everyone boo’d him out.

“Catch you losers later.” He singsonged, strolling over to your office with a victorious smile on his face.

Stopping in front of your office, he balanced his coffee against his chest, knocking firmly on the door, letting you know it was him. There was some shuffling and mumbling coming from the inside, smoothing out your skirt and top before you pulled the door open and met him with a smile as you tossed your hair over your shoulder.

“Hey, come in.” You opened the door wider, making room for him to pass, before shutting it behind him.

Seth stepped in further into your office, holding out one of the cups towards you, “It’s not the best coffee but I did promise you some last time.”

You pressed your lips into a thankful pout, taking it from him.

“I did need an extra buzz to get through the show, so thank you.” You laughed.

He watched as you took a sip, concern muddled in his orbs, hoping you’d like it, and if you didn’t, then he’d have to hope the sugar packets hidden in his pocket could solve the problem.

“Not too bitter is it?” Seth rose his brow skeptically, and you went in for another sip before shaking your head.

“It’s actually just right.” You swirled the cup in your palm, running your tongue over your lips.

“If we’re ever in Iowa, I’ll take you to a better coffee spot.” He offered, following your lead to the couch getting comfortable.

“You know a place?” You lifted your brow, falling onto the cushions, and hit him right beside you not a second later.

“I own it.” He said proudly, containing a chuckle when you snapped your head at him in awe.

“No way, you don’t.” You gasped, poking his arm thinking that he was just messing with you.

He shook his head, holding his hands up in defense. “Believe it or not, I’m a coffee connoisseur myself and decided to open up a little shop in my hometown.”

“Okay now you legitimately need to take me out for coffee.” You insisted with a stern point, the two of you began laughing.

“You have my word.” He promised, tipping his cup into the air towards you.

Sure it was a gamble to make such a promise, especially considering everyone’s concern about him getting in trouble with Paul for getting too close, but it also came with the territory of the business and if anyone knew what that was like then it was certainly your father.

You and him were strictly business…and friends. But nothing more than that. The way that you two smiled and held conversations with each other was strictly platonic—at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself as he stared at you tenderly.

He didn’t understand why his friends were causing such a ruckus between you and him, because surely they all thought that he was better than that, right? There wasn’t any plausible way that you or he could fall into something deeper than platonic friends…right?

“Oh! Let me grab my laptop.” You remembered getting off the couch, causing Seth to blink wildly, shaking his head at himself for getting caught up in his thoughts.

You sat beside him once more, this time with your laptop in hand as you set your coffee down on the ground before lifting the screen and typing your password in. He grinned behind his cup as he took a sip, eyes trained on the wallpaper of you and your sisters, plus a few dogs that he assumed were a part of the family.

“So, how should we do this?” You puffed out a breath of air through your nose, opening an application from the toolbar, causing another screen to pop up, an empty document.

You typed your name and Seth’s in the same line, followed by ‘backstage segment’ before assigning two different colors for your lines.

Seth slanted closer to you, and you looked up at him for a quick second, doing the same so you could tilt the laptop towards him, giving him a better view of the screen.

“Why don’t I come in looking for your dad, but it’s actually you I run into?” He suggested, looking at you for approval.

You thought for a second, eyes trained up to the ceiling, trying to paint the picture in your head, and before you knew it, there was a certain twinkle in your eye, suddenly looking at him with a thoughtful grin.

“Yeah, I like that.” You nodded, getting to typing away.

Effortless was the best way to describe the time that passed as you and Seth bounced ideas off one another. In fact, your office was filled with laughter, “oh’s” and “ah’s” that reflected the ease that came with the process that most times were filled with silence and pondering. He made it all feel easy, even with the worry that lingered in the back of your mind about being on live TV again.

You bit down on your lip, fingers working across the keyboard thoughtfully as you typed.

“Why don’t you do what your mother did and be gone witch?” Seth read it aloud as you typed and he covered his mouth, and you threw your head back laughing.

“No way! Your mom would kill, then your dad.” He grimaced lightly, causing you to giggle uncontrollably, sliding your laptop off your lap as you hunched over your legs.

“I personally think the crowd would pop over it.” You caught your breath laying back against the cushions.

“I like what we have so far. Usually sitting in script writing isn’t this fun,” Seth admitted, watching as you reached for your laptop and deleted the last line.

You hummed, tilting your head, “Writing has never not been fun for me. Sure, sometimes there’s writer’s block, but I always find that jumping from script to script can help.”

You saved the script to your laptop, pulling up your emails and sending it to Eddie with ‘please print’ in the subject line followed by a smiley face. He grinned, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee, watching you hit the send button before closing your laptop.

He swallowed the bitter liquid, the two of you sitting in short silence before he nudged your side with his elbow, getting you to meet his eyes.

“I’m lucky, really. There’s no one I would rather work with.” He spoke with a sincerity that made those knots loop and tighten in your stomach all over again.

It tugged inside of you in a way that you could not even begin to pinpoint. The idea of it being because you were starting to form a little crush on him just didn’t seem fathomable for reasons that you knew were obvious. He would never go after his boss’s daughter. You were the forbidden fruit he couldn’t have, and you were positive it was just you misinterpreting his kindness so foolishly.

Before you could even thank him, a heavy knock sounded on the other side of the door, causing you both to whip your head in its direction.

“Come in!” You called out, immediately standing and brushing your palms against your skirt.

It was a camera crew and sound techs lugging their equipment, as one of them spoke.

“Is it okay if we set up?” They proposed, looking between you and Seth.

You nodded, glancing over at the superstar who stood upright beside you.

“Yeah, of course, we were just wrapping up.”

They all nodded, letting themselves in to prepare for the segment tonight.

“I’ll meet you here okay?” Seth held his arm out, letting you walk into a small hug.

“Sounds like a plan.” You murmured, rubbing his back, watching him leave, hoping time would go by faster.

As if you manifested it, time certainly did pass by quicker than you anticipated and Seth was already changed into a fitted tee and black skinny jeans. His hair tugged out of the low bun he had been wearing and misted with leave in conditioner. He was reading over the copy of his script while you got your hair and makeup touched up and the camera crew began framing the shot.

One of the producers instructed you both to get into places, anticipating the end of the second match of the night where directly after the cameras would cut to backstage. You stood off camera, shooting Seth a thumbs up and a big ole smile, while a stage hand counted down and the cameras were live.

“Hello hello, is anyone here?” He tapped on the already cracked door, pushing against it and letting himself in, looking around.

You snuck in from the opposite side of the camera, revealing yourself.

“Can I help you?”

Seth stared at you surprised, for a split second before giving you a tense nod and looking past you.

“Actually, you can’t, but if you could get me your dad, then I think I’ll be able to get my issue resolved.”

You rolled your eyes, hands resting on your hips, “Well my dad’s actually a little busy right now, but I can assure you, whatever it is you need, I can assist.”

“Yeah?” Seth crossed his arms over his chest, meeting your eyes skeptically.

“Come on, hit me.” You nodded with a smile, feigning assurance as you guided him to tell you what he so desperately wanted.

“A match against—”

“Yeah no,” You cut him off, dropping the smile on your face and causing Seth to furrow his brows perplexed.

“Excuse me?” He spoke taken aback by your harshness.

“You don’t think I’m stupid do you? I know your history, Seth, and to be quite frank, I’m not the fondest of you. To be honest, I don’t even like you all that much.”

“Look lady, I did nothing to you, so I don’t see why you’re treating me the way you are right now.”

“It’s not about what you did to me, Seth. It’s about what you did to other people. What you did to your brothers, Roman and Dean. What you did to my dad after everything he did for you. And right now, I have my guard up because I don’t know what you’ll do to me.”

“I’ll have you know that I apologized to my brothers. We’ve moved on and they’ve forgiven me. As for your dad,” Seth paused, looking at you, “He got what he had coming…and so did you mom.”

You gritted your teeth, palm lifting up as if you were going to slap him before your dad, cleared his throat, entering the frame and you hurriedly lowered your hand and shot him a sweet smile.

“Hi dad!” You beamed, attempting to cut the tension in the small space.

“Hey sweetie,” He greeted you with a hug, ignoring Seth for a moment, before turning to face him finally, “You met my daughter I see.”

“She’s a real delight.” Seth faked a smile, and you rolled your eyes when your dad wasn’t looking.

“Was there something you needed?” Hunter requested, and Seth’s mouth opened about to speak.

“He was actually just leaving dad.” You interjected, shaking your head and gesturing Seth out the door.

But he stood in place, glaring at you until you hardened your gaze and pointed him out once more.

“Bye-bye now.” You twiddled your fingers, smiling evilly when he turned his back and walked out.

The camera cut back to the ring, and you immediately broke character with a giggle relieved that it went better than you had planned, and to your surprise you and Seth worked effortlessly. Your father shook his head, impressed by how good you were at playing the bad guy, even after you were initially opposed to being a heel because you didn’t know if you possessed any of the bad guy qualities.

“I’m sure everyone is now officially going to call me mom’s mini me.” You joked, meeting your father’s palm with a high five.

“You sure are.” Your dad grinned, ruffling the top of your head, a warm gesture of his approval that you always had.

The two of you moved towards your desk, allowing the crew to clear out with all their equipment, and it wasn’t long before Seth had made his way back in, wearing the same grin that you had glued onto your face even after the cameras called cut.

“For a second, I thought you really were going to hit me.” Seth shook his head playfully, rubbing his hand over his cheek where you were going to hit him.

You gasped dramatically, holding a hand over your heart, “I would never!” You insisted, the two of you laughing as your dad watched on.

He was well aware that the decision to have you and Seth work together was the best one he could have made, despite the oppositions who argued otherwise. Sure, many of the producers and writers were weary of Paul allowing his daughter to act in her very own script, especially a romantic one, but Paul knew better than anyone that you were the perfect fit, and Seth was the perfect partner to make it all happen.

While Seth was the one who named Paul one of his biggest mentors, Paul trusted Seth with not just his creative take on wrestling, but the ability to work with new talent not just to put them over, but to make him better in the process. It was no different from trusting Seth with you, knowing he would help you develop your character for the long run while also getting the chance to explore a creative direction that the fans had never seen from him before.

Your father knew you and Seth were the perfect match for TV and that was it.

“Wanna go to catering?” Seth suggested, hoping you’d tag along since he had virtually nothing else to do for the night.

You nodded, retrieving your phone off your desk. “Yeah, I’m actually meting Eddie there. I have a few posters to sign and he wants to catch up.” You shot Eddie a quick text that you would be there soon.

“Well, great job you two.” Your dad spoke, giving you both a pat on the back, content with how the segment went and hoping the fans would be excited for next week where they got to see more of you two together.

“Fun weekend?” Seth asked, falling into step beside you, walking through the hallways.

You nodded enthusiastically, retelling what you and your family had been up to.

“It was actually really fun and relaxing at the same time. Plus, I really hit a home run when my sister opened the present I got her.”

You unlocked your phone, opening the photos app, and scrolling to find the photo your mom snapped of you and your sister as she ripped open her present.

“What’d you get her?” He stared, watching as you slid through some images before finally finding the one and passing it over to him.

“It’s one of those vintagey polaroid cameras.” You explained, excitement woven into your voice, “And it’s not the modern ones they brought back into style. It’s like an actual one from the 80s I think? I found it at consignment store and picked up some film to go along with it.”

Seth laughed, fingers scrolling through the play-by-play photos which revealed your sisters surprised expression the more she got through the wrapping paper and realized what she got. It ended with you two embracing in a hug, and Seth smiled warmly at the thought you put in, making sure you got her something that was worth a reaction like that.

“She looks super stoked.” Seth chuckled, passing the phone back to you.

You hummed, pouting slightly at the screen a little at the screen and locking it. “I’m a little jealous because I’ve been wanting one myself.” You admitted with a laugh, shaking your head at your own wistfulness.

Seth smirked, opening the catering doors for you, letting you walk in first.

“You should get one. It’ll complete the whole director look you got going on.” He spoke, walking in behind you and gesturing his hand in the air over your silhouette.

You giggled softly, looking towards the table in the back of the room where Eddie was waving you over.

“I’ll be over there.” You pointed, and Seth nodded, giving Eddie a little wave before turning his attention back to you.

“Stop by if you have time.” Seth replied, tone inviting, tilting his head towards the table where all of his friends were seated waiting for him to join them.

“I will.” You assured him with a smile, heading to Eddie while Seth went to grab food.

The fine tip sharpie was nestled into your hand and you began the time consuming and finger cramping process of getting the stack of posters signed for the beloved WWE fans. Thankfully, you and Eddie both created an efficient rhythm where you would sign and he would stack them, keeping to process going smoothly.

“How was your sister’s birthday?” He swiped away another poster into the growing signed pile.

“Adorable! She had a few friends over for her birthday party, and she was surprised my dad and I flew down in time.” You gushed, hand working overtime to get everything done in one sitting.

“That’s nice. Why didn’t I see you Friday, by the way?” He was too busy with your father’s tasks for him to find you or shoot you a text last week.

“I got dinner with Seth and a few other people, and I caught a ride with them back to the hotel.” You stopped for a moment, looking at him with a soft smile. “Thanks for sending my stuff to the suite by the way.”

Eddie nodded, keeping the posters going, but not without a little laugh getting caught in his throat before he spoke, “Seth, huh?”

You furrowed your brows, the pen still working against the glossy photos.

“What about him?” You pressed, wondering what he was getting at.

Eddie shrugged, his knowing eyes avoided with yours trained on the photos in front of you. “Nothing, he just seems to cozy up to you that’s all.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not true.” You argued, shaking your head dismissively.

“You ran into each other like a billion times on your first day—two of which I was there to see with my own eyes.” He retorted, as if it meant something deeper than two people coincidentally bumping into each other.

“Well, we work together now, and now with the new storyline expect to see more of us together.” You replied, attempting to brush off any implications that it was deeper than surface level.

“In a cozy way or?” Eddie teased, knocking his foot lightly into your calves under the table.

“Oh my god, stop.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at his childish behavior that was borderline schoolgirl like.

“I’m messing with you,” Eddie eased up with a chuckle, “Plus, your dad already made it clear that talent is off limits.” He admitted, sucking in a sharp breath at the memory of the tense meeting just a few days ago.

“He’s not actually serious about that.” You countered with a huff, defiance creeping into your voice.

Eddie deadpanned, staring at you in disbelief, “What do you mean ‘not serious’? He is totally absolutely serious about it.”

You shrugged, not understanding what the big deal was anyway.

“Well for one, I am a grown woman who gets to decide what I want, and two, he and my mom literally did what he’s now tell me not to do, which is very hypocritical if you ask me.”

Eddie nodded, understanding your point, but at the same time weary of what your father was capable of if anyone thought about pursing you.

“No I know that, but…wouldn’t he like absolutely freak out if you went against him?”

“This is all hypothetical you know that, right? I’m not actually going to go after Seth.” You laughed lightly, shaking your head at him, hoping he knew you weren’t being actually serious about you and your new on-screen interest.

“What if Seth wants to go after you?” Eddie’s tone was suddenly a lot less teasing and more so serious.

“He’d be out of his mind.” You sighed, waving off the thought of that even happening.

“He already is.” Eddie muttered under his breath, eyes catching the sigh of Seth staring at you from across the room while you tried not to feel it.

Seth settled his eyes back on his plate of salad and grilled chicken, seated between Dean and Kofi as everyone began talking about the elephant in the room, which was you and Seth—of course.

“Nice segment,” Dean patted him on the back with a smirk. “You guys have chemistry.” He added, and the table agreed with hums and smiles.

Seth chewed his food and swallowed, nodding his head thankfully, “Well I mean, that’s why Paul picked her and I.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head with a lopsided grin. “I mean, romantic sexual chemistry.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Seth cursed, shaking his head in disagreement.

The table giggled and failed to hide their growing smirks, knowing damn well there was an unspoken chemistry between you both no matter how hard Seth tried to deny it.

“It’s no surprise when we were practically barging in on your date last week.” Charlotte piped with a soft whistle, sipping her energy drink through a straw.

“Hold up what?” Xavier’s eyes shot towards Seth, lifting a troubling brow.

Seth sighed, forking pieces of dressed lettuce onto the prongs as he spoke.

“We just went out to dinner and I walked her up to her hotel room. We were on the same floor, so it was just coincidence.”

“Chivalry, my man!” Big E hooted.

“Thank you.” Seth looked over at him with an empathetic expression, knowing at least he understood what it meant to be a courteous person.

But Kofi piped in, shaking his head. “Oh, it wasn’t a compliment. You’re down bad dude.” He corrected with a laughed, reaching across the table to give Big E a fist bump.

“What does that even mean?” Seth furrowed his brows confused, before ultimately shaking his head not wanting to hear it.

“We’re friends. And you guys have to drop this, we’re gonna be working together a lot and the last thing—”

Before he could even finish his statement, he felt a hand slide across the slope of his shoulder, causing him to look behind him, only to be met by you. Your stood above him, wearing your infectious smile as your hand remained on his clothed shoulder.

“I gotta run, but I’ll try to find you later if I have time.” You told him, eyes darting quickly to Eddie who was waiting up for you near the catering doors.

Seth nodded, immediately smiling, “Yeah, of course,” He replied.

He dropped the fork onto his plate, hand reaching up to cover yours. “Good job earlier by the way.”

You squeezed his skin tenderly, his rough fingertips grazing over your knuckles as you two smiled idiotically at each other. Everyone catching the way you both acted as if you were the only two people in the room—as if it really was just an innocent start of a friendship.

“Thanks. It always helps when you have a good scene partner to work with.” You spoke softly with another gracious nod.

With that, Seth let his hand fall off yours, and you brought your arm back to your side, finally tearing your eyes away from solely his and finally acknowledging everyone else with a wave.

“Bye guys,” you chorused, looking at Seth once more, mouthing “bye” and spinning on your heel, leaving with Eddie.

“That’s what it is.” Kofi muttered, draping his arm across Seth’s shoulder.

“What?” Seth finally tore his eyes from the catering door and his smile gradually dropped.

“That look on your face.” He pointed, gesturing a finger in a circular motion over his face.

“You being so gushy mushy over her? That’s being down bad my friend.”

Seth didn’t entertain the accusation, not even in the slightest convinced as he continued to eat his food and his friends went on with their badgering. He wasn’t down bad or whatever it was they were claiming.

All of it was completely and utterly foolish—he just wondered if you thought so too.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i hope you guys like chapter three of icsy!!! i had been working on this chapter for awhile and it is longer than i expected it to be, but thats just me being a typical yappersorous (my bad). let me know what you thing!!! seems like reader and seth are down bad and they don't even know it just yet 😜

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mlmxreader · 6 months

Text

For I Have Sinned | Dean Winchester x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi can I request “Nothing, just… you look really good right now” with dean please ❞

: ̗̀➛ You get a little bit hot under the collar seeing Dean in a particular outfit.

: ̗̀➛ heavy sexual referencing & innuendo, swearing

↳ MINORS DNI

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Admittedly, it was very rare for you and the Winchesters to ever really cross paths accidentally; whenever you worked a job together it was done so on purpose, and often arranged in advance so that you knew where to stay and what was going on.

But this time was different, as a small rural village in pretty much nowhere had been plagued with stories of a werewolf, and you didn’t have time to contact the Winchesters about it before they were bursting into your motel room together dressed as priests.

It made you want to laugh, really, but when they started asking about work, you could only shake your head as you held up your palms.

“Boys, boys!” You shouted, trying not to grin. “Settle down already, I’ve only just got here, alright?”

Carefully, Dean sat on your bed as he folded his arms across his chest; Sam leaned against the wall mimicking his brother’s posture, which made you sigh as you gently tapped your thighs. Unable to keep your eyes off of Dean as you swallowed thickly.

“So, what’d you know?” Dean asked, almost impatient as he raised his brows and stared directly at you.

You shook your head, chewing at the inside of your lip. “Honestly? Pretty much fuck all at this point. You?”

“About the same,” Dean agreed with a curt nod, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a moment before he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Sammy? Could you, erm, could you go grab somethin’ to eat while we talk?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said slowly, looking between you and Dean for a moment before leaving.

“Quit lookin’ at my mouth,” Dean told him, resting his forearm on his knee and glaring at you. “Now ain’t the time.”

You sighed as you chewed at the inside of your mouth. “Oh, so it’s my fault that you decided to dress up as the only attractive priest on the planet?”

He shrugged. “What about that guy, erm… Andrew whatever?”

“He’s not attractive,” you scoffed. “But seriously, it’s just nothing, just… you look really good right now and, yeah! It’s a little bit distracting!”

Dean laughed softly as he shook his head fondly; he could have said the same about you with your old band t-shirt and matching hoodie, camouflage cargo trousers and beaten up brown boots.

He really could have said the same about you, given how you kept biting your fucking lip and how you were sat with your legs spread; he hardly growled as he swiped his hand down his face, swallowing thickly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, his breath hitching in his throat as he tried - in vain - to take his eyes away from your mouth for even just a quick moment. He narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking about the last time you were in a motel together alone.

He almost gave up, until you shifted in your seat and grunted under your breath - it almost immediately drew his attention directly to you.

“Dean!” You almost shouted, making him blink quickly before shaking his head in shock. “Let me guess - suddenly you’re distracted, too, right?”

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat awkwardly as he rubbed his mouth. “Yeah, erm… yeah. Sorry.”

You shook your head, taking in a deep breath as you tried to steady and steel your nerves. “So what the fuck do we do? We can’t… how the fuck are we meant to go hunting if we can’t even sit in a room together?”

“I can get changed,” he murmured. “Dump the whole Father Brodén schtick and find something else. Maybe, erm… I think I got an Agent Taylor or somethin’ stashed away somewhere, I don’t-”

“No,” you said softly, quietly. “No, you don’t need to do that - I’ll, I’ll sit this one out, do base research from here.”

Dean shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, I can’t let you do that. You were here first, this is your hunt.”

“Dean,” you sighed. “We can’t do shit if we’re like this. You know that, and I know that.”

“So what do we do?” He asked, furrowing his brows.

“Well, Sam’s out,” you mused, pursing your lips for a moment. “I’m sure we could, erm, y’know… lock the door, keep the window shut and erm… let loose, don’t you think?”

Dean seemed to consider it, swallowing thickly as he shifted where he sat for a moment. “Conflict of interest.”

“Hmm?” You furrowed your brows as you frowned.

“There’s you and me,” he started, “we don’t see each other often, you know the life - think we can even work together if we’re… lettin’ loose all the time?”

You shrugged, clasping your hands together between your legs as you swallowed thickly. “I’m willing to give it a shot, are you?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I would be… c’mere a sec, though.”

You got up, your legs a little shaky as you walked over to him, surprised when he pulled you down onto his lap, licking his lips and grinning; you put your hands on his shoulders, eyeing up the white collar around his neck for a moment.

“You should dress as a priest more,” you breathed out, taking a moment to stare at his lips.

Dean nodded, shifting his hips so that you were right on him. “Noted. You should wear that tight shirt more.”

You squeezed his shoulders a little, breath hitching in your throat. “Noted.”

You couldn’t help it, one hand going to his hair and the other at the nape of his neck as you caught him in a quick kiss; immediately, Dean kissed back, grunting softly when you tugged at his hair gently to pull him closer.

The kiss became open mouthed and heavy, making you squirm a little when you pulled away, looking at how shiny and plump his lips were for a moment.

“Dean…”

“I’m gonna take my shoes off,” he whispered. “And then I’m gonna lie down - you gonna join me?”

“Well, fuck it” you breathed out, laughing for a second. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

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deanbrainrotwritings · 7 months

Text

— DEMONOLOGY AND HEARTACHE

SUMMARY : dean is a devout catholic and has never known a life outside the church, all his resolve is broken by the temptation of a hellish seductress

PAIRING : priest!dean winchester x demon!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : explicit(18+), smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), corruption kink, praise kink, priest au, priest kink, sub/dom dynamics, sub!dean, defiling holy stuff

WORD COUNT : 4.9k

A/N : title from an atreyu song. dean’s not undercover, just pure corruption. I’m going to hell. my sister said his seed is holy, lmaoo. this one fills my “Go to hell!”/“Where do you think I came from?” square for my @jacklesversebingo card. enjoy Dean’s holy seed (and I’m sorry if y’all are religious, I used to be religious, too, to make it worse) XX

Green eyes illuminated by moonlight. They flit across the dark and empty space of the nave casually. There’s a draught that makes him shudder, but he remains unphased. He makes sure the lights are off, double checks that the doors and windows are closed, and continues onward to his room to rest for the night.

He’s still in his vestments, blending in with the darkness. He only becomes darker in the shadows of the hallways, making his way to the staircase leading to his room. The wooden stairs creak beneath his formal shoes, olden oak that’s more silent in the day, thunders in the silent dark.

A crucifix greets him when he’s at the top of the staircase and he makes the sign of the cross automatically, but slowly, with reverence. Moonlight kisses his delicate features; green eyes twinkle like a billion stars, gold lashes like the lustre of the sun’s reflection on the moon’s surface, freckles show clearly now beneath the exposing light.

His splendour is unmatched even inside the grand cathedral.

He makes his way blindly to his bedroom and wipes a hand over his stubble, scratching lightly at his jaw, thoughtfully planning out his next day. He gets to his room and begins to toe off his shoes as he pushes the door open all the way.

He expects moonlight to strike his face, but it’s quiet and dark. He can smell firewood and something foul, unfamiliar. He thinks nothing of it, he can feel the breeze pushing between his curtains, and assumes it’s something outside. He turns around to shut the door and holds the wall for balance as he pulls his shoes off all the way.

“Father,” he hears a soft voice, unknown to him. He turns quickly, half-scared, half-confused: how did someone get up here and why is there a woman in my room? were the first questions asked in his mind. The dim light on his bedside table lights up his room and reveals a nun in her nightgown sitting on his bed.

He recognises her now and relaxed, only slightly. She’s new and arrived two weeks ago. Sister… something or another; it’s been a busy couple of weeks.

She watches him curiously, her brows furrow and her eyes mysterious. She leans back casually on her arms, too relaxed for his comfort. The top of her nightgown undone, two strings hang loosely over her breasts. A chill teases his spine and rides up to the top of his head, prickling the freckled skin of his body. He doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here?” He asks quietly, offering his hand to her to get her to stand from his bed. She stares at it indifferently. “You should be in your quarters,” he adds, reaching out for her arm instead.

“I’ve been thinking about what I confessed to you yesterday, Father,” she murmurs, shaking her arm out of his hand. He sighs tiredly, but smiles kindly at her anyway. He can’t remember her confession, everyone confesses multiple times about multiple things, and goes to him—searching for repentance.

“You’re forgiven, you need to move forward,” he reassures her.

“I don’t think I can,” she replies almost instantly. He raises a brow, but lets her continue. “Does that… make me a bad person?” She asks, concern and guilt laces her voice.

“No, it makes you human.” He purses his lips and takes her soft hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You should sleep, we can talk tomorrow,” he tries again, loosening his grip on her cool hand, but she keeps holding onto it.

He narrows his eyes, his jaw clenches when she lifts her cotton gown. He raises a brow when she’s standing up on her knees, and a crease forms between his eyebrows. Her other hand curls around the back of his neck and he opens his mouth to question her, moving back slightly. Instead, her grip becomes firm and her warm lips press against his lips and he stiffens, confused.

He can feel her hand around his wrist moving and her gown ruffles. He feels her warmth beneath his fingers, wetness against his fingertips, that makes him gasp and pull away. He snatches his hand away from between her legs and sees that she’s smiling knowingly.

“What are you doing?” He asks in disbelief, but his heart is pounding, sending blood to his cock. “You need to leave,” he clears his throat. Heat, like hellfire, washes over his body, and turns away to hide himself when his face flushes and his cock twitches.

“Come on, Father,” she murmurs provocatively. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply before turning to face her with a glare. “I know what you’ve been dreaming of,” she laughs mischievously, sitting back on her legs. She pulls down the top of her nightgown, freeing her breast to play with her nipple. Her other hand moves down between her legs, she opens herself by parting her legs, and starts to tease her wet slit while he watches.

“Go to hell!” He shouts at her, looking away and trying to get out of his room. He reaches the doorknob and gets the door open only for it to slam shut.

“Where do you think I came from?” She asks darkly, and his stomach sinks. He shakes the doorknob wildly and pulls as hard as he can, but it doesn’t budge. He feels her hand grab the back of his shirt and she flings him across the room so he lands on the bed. He scrambles up on it and tries to get away when her eyes flash completely black. “You’re getting rusty, Dean, ignoring all those omens,” she shakes her head and tsks, climbing up on the bed with him.

He thinks about what she says, he never thought much about the mutilations because of the wolves that roam freely, or the electrical storms because of the cold and the usage of heaters, or the crop failures due to the weather. He shouldn’t have brushed it off, but he hadn’t encountered demonic activity in years. This whole time, it was circling him and he didn’t even notice.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he starts to whisper, grabbing the rosary from around his neck. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incur-” She grabbed the rosary from him roughly, quieting the exorcism from continuing, and stared at it with a wicked smile before pulling it harshly.

“That won’t work on me, baby.” The beads fell over his body when the rosary snapped. Wooden beads and black beads bounce on his bed, then scatter loudly onto the floor, rolling and sliding across wood until they stop on their own or hit a wall.

“You… you were making me dream all those things,” he accuses breathlessly. She nods wordlessly, stepping in between his parted legs with her hands on his bent knees. She bites her lip, stares lustfully at the black attire he wears. A holy man.

“I know… you liked it,” she whispers, causing him to swallow nervously. “I watched you pleasure yourself every time you woke up,” she admits shamelessly, fingers meeting his belt to get it off. He squirmed and grabbed her hand to stop her, but his cock was hard just remembering his hedonistic actions and the lewd dreams that haunted him every night for weeks. “What was it like dreaming of how soft I feel? Do you think your hand feels as good as I do inside? Do you want my mouth like you loved using it in your dreams?” She continues to tease, leaning over him, hands sliding up the front of his body.

He was warm and taut beneath her hands. His body hums with pleasure, he aches to touch her despite knowing it was wrong. He craves to feel her body beneath his own, wrapped around him so tightly. He hates himself for it, but it’s all his mind could think of, especially when he could feel her warm breath over his tingly lips.

“What do you want from me?” He asks quietly, staring deeply into her black eyes. She blinks and they return to normal eyes again, a sweet smile growing on her face. It could’ve fooled him, that warmth that sparkled inside—it must actually be hellfire.

“I want you to beg me to fuck you, I want you to need it really bad,” she whispered hotly, tracing the buttons on his shirt. He swallowed anxiously, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of her pink lips and soft skin, supple breasts in plain sight, smooth thighs pressed against his. His whole body longed for the feel of her lips, her hands, for everything of hers to be on him.

“I… I can’t do that,” he choked out. He grabs her hands and moves them away from his body then scoots up on his bed to put some distance between them.

“You can,” she encourages him with a wicked smile, crawling up to him. “You will,” she promises, reaching between his legs for his belt.

He squirms, weakly attempting to push her away because that’s what his instincts told him to do. She’s a demon, he’s a priest. She is unholy and he’s supposed to be an intermediary for God, Jesus, the angels, the Holy Spirit, and everything else that’s good. He can’t just lay with a woman, especially when she comes directly from hell.

She didn’t make a single move. She just waited for him and her hair fell prettily over her shoulder when she tilted her head at him expectantly. Her skin looked smooth and her lips were pink and they looked soft. He could easily remember what they looked like around his cock in his dreams. He didn’t want to give in to her, he spent years in the church, he has every scripture memorised, and he’s helped hundreds of people without expecting so much as a thanks.

But he wanted to really feel what he’d felt in his dreams for two weeks. He craved it like he’d never craved sex before—or anything else for that matter. Here, in a holy place was a very sexy woman in his bed, a woman who crawled her way out of hell and became fixated on him. For weeks, she tormented him, planted herself in his dreams and gave him glimpses of her in real life as a nun covered from head to toe.

Now, she sat between his legs, with nothing underneath her sleeping gown. The pure white dress hid the true darkness of her soul. He rubbed his fingers together, though they were dry, his slacks tightened just remembering the feel of her wet folds against his fingertips. He’d never been this hard and desperate before, it usually went away quickly when the guilt of his libidinous thoughts consumed him.

He’d never done anything bad before, never strayed from his teachings or from the rules. Here she was, tempting him to take a bite of her, tempting him to give himself to her for her pleasure, for his pleasure. Demon or not, no one’s ever gone out of their way to get to him, that was a messed up thought, but it turned him on.

“Please,” he chokes out. It shocked him. He stared at her in surprise, but she just looked back at him arrogantly. Slowly, as if waiting for his protest, she tugged his belt and got the leather out of the buckle. He started to breathe heavily, aroused by her gaze and thought of being defiled.

She starts to pull the belt from the loops of his slacks and he willingly lifts his hips when it catches beneath him. He gives in easily when she pops the button out of the slit. He even lets his head fall back into the pillow and rolls his hips upwards when she slowly pulls the zipper down.

She starts to pull his pants down, he can feel the rough scrap of his boxers against his skin when she tries to do it all at once. He doesn’t care anymore, with his thumbs hooked at the sides, he pulls them down with her help. He can feel the cool air kiss his cock, slowly as she exposes him. He moans softly when he’s fully free, he knows there’s precum leaking at the slit, it feels colder.

He feels like a wanton whore and he’s barely made a sound. He can hear the delicate fabric of his clothes hit the floor, it makes him feel more excited.

“Wow, you really are blessed,” she murmurs, her warm breath blowing over his cock. He fists the sheets, feels it twitch instantly, and opens his eyes to stare at her. “It’s just as pretty as the rest of you,” she praises, keeping eye contact with him. He bites his lip and he’s about to respond with a ‘shut up’ when she lets a string of her saliva drip onto his tip.

The words catch in his throat. She leans forward, her soft hair falls over her face, and her tongue makes contact with the warm head of his cock. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when she hums at the taste of him. His body stiffens and it feels even better than he dreamed. When he lets his head fall back into the pillow, he catches a glimpse of the crucifix over his bed. She turned it upside down.

“Father,” she whispers, “don’t look away from me.” He looks back at her, her soft hands manoeuvre his body so he has his knees bent upwards again. He feels exposed, vulnerable, sinful, and dirty.

“Don’t call me that,” he requests softly. He reaches for her jaw to guide her back down onto him. That excites her, he can see her eyes livening. His stomach flutters.

“Dean,” she sneers when she wraps her hand around the base of his cock and starts to twist her hand upwards. He growls lowly, shyly lifts his arm, and puts it over his eyes. “I prefer calling you Father. It makes this way hotter. Don’t you think?” She asks teasingly and then laughs.

“No….” He trailed off, spreading his legs a little wider when she leaned forward to kiss his stomach.

“Call me whatever you want, Father,” she whispers against his skin, trailing her lips downwards as she jerks him off. “Whore, demon, hellspawn… Sister,” she smirks when he whines, then sucks on his hip bone. A red mark blossoms on his skin. “I’m so wet,” she tells him, teasingly flattering her palm over the tip of his dick, “this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” He watches the little smirk on her face and while he’s curious about what she does in hell, he can feel his impending release.

“Please,” he begs quietly. It makes her stop instead. She puts one hand on the inside of his thigh and spreads him open the way a man would do to a woman and she stares down at him curiously. He wiggles to close his legs but she’s stronger than he is, and keeps him as she has him. She pulls gently at his balls, then pushes, and eventually finds a pace where it starts to feel more intense.

“Jesus Christ,” she murmurs with a chuckle, “you’re so fucking sexy.” He flushes at her words and watches her lean down to suck on his balls. He moans loudly and tangles his hand in her hair, then tugs so she moves upwards. “You’re built like a god, any man would be jealous,” she teases, letting him guide her.

“Do what you did in my dreams,” he suggests, then slid his hand down her shoulder and inside the top of her nightgown. He fondled her breasts and innocently held eye contact with her.

“What did I do?” She asks playfully, placing one small kiss on his leaking cock. He glares at her, but she shrugs like she has no idea what he’s talking about. She continues to tease him instead, bites down on his thigh and sucks until he’s whining.

“Please, suck it,” he begs bashfully, pulling his hand out of the gown. She moves up his body, he’s sure it’s to embarrass him when she stares down at him.

“Suck what?” He groans at her question, lifts both hands to tug frustratedly at his hair. She moves away nonchalantly, slowly begins to lift the white gown upwards, revealing inch by glorious inch of her perfect body. He watches her touch herself with his mouth parted in astonishment, her hands play with her breasts and she teases herself between her legs.

“Suck my cock, please, I want to feel your mouth,” he rushes out quickly. He sits up and takes her waist, dragging her forward until he has his warm mouth on her nipple.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, Dean,” she promises, playing with his hair. She rubs her thighs together and lets him switch from one nipple to the other. He stares up at her the whole time, his eyes shimmering with lust. “I hope this haunts you forever,” she sneers. Giving his hair a sharp tug to move him away forcefully and go down on him. He grunts softly and wraps his hand around his cock, slowly sliding a dry hand up and down.

“That’s my job,” she scolds, slapping his hand away. She settles between his legs, and without warning, she wraps her lips around the tip, sending a sharp electric feeling running up his spine. It’s unbelievable how wet she feels around him, how warm her mouth feels engulfing him inch by inch. His stomach becomes taut with the way she runs her tongue along the bottom vein, sucking when she lifts up slightly, then does it over and over.

Her slowness drives him crazy. She was merciless in his dreams, passionate and focused on making him reach the ultimate pleasure, but now, she’s just torturing him. One of her hands follows her mouth and the other slides up his chest beneath the buttoned black shirt. Her nails scrape his chest gently but her fingers brush teasingly against his nipple. He arches his back and moans loudly, he doesn’t care that the night amplifies his voice and carries his pretty noises quickly down the halls of the holy church.

She slides her hand away from his chest and blindly finds his wrist. He grips the sheets tightly, moaning and groaning. The sounds he made travelled to her clit, it pulsed, her walls clenched around nothing, and she dripped between her legs with a flood of warm heat. He let her place his hand on her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. She’s not going to give him what he wants, she wants him to take what he wants. It’s the ultimate goal for her, to make him loosen up and fuck her mouth.

“Please, I want…” he trails off, both his hands now resting on her head. She drools around his cock and hums when he pushes her down farther. She wants to shove him deeper into her, to take him fast and hard, but it turns her on more to make him needy and desperate. To make him be the one that uses her demonic mouth and hellish body for his pleasure.

She holds onto the back of his thighs and pushes them so they’re almost at his chest. When her nose is pressed against his pelvis and she swallows around him, he holds her there.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moans, his balls draw inwards and his stomach coils. She moans softly and starts to pull off him, only to start sucking and bobbing her head up and down just as he wanted her to. He gets louder somehow and rougher, his grip on her hair is almost painful. The sounds of her throat getting fucked makes him shudder and squirm. He needs to cum so bad. “Yes, don’t stop…” he breathes out.

She hums again, he thought it was a promise that she wouldn’t stop, but when he makes that specific grunt he tends to make when he’s about to cum and when he stiffens and gasps, the warmth of her wet mouth is replaced by the drag of cool air from the room.

He whines and his eyes fly open. He watches her smirk and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She still has one hand on his thigh, bending him and keeping him open. He gets shy again, but she doesn’t let him keep his dignity. She gets closer to him and she leans over him to whisper, “you taste so good, Father, I’d imagine it’s all the holy fuckery you consume and spew to others…”

“It turns me on. You make me so wet and needy. Your mouth is mine.” She kisses him softly, even though her words offend him. He glares at her for her blasphemy, but his eyes close when her soft, sweet lips make contact with his. The tenderness of her kiss fools him, takes his mind off her offensive expressions, and keeps him complacent.

Her tongue prods at his lips. Her lewdness makes him eager, she’s thorough, licking across his lips slowly. When he opens his mouth to her, her kiss is hungry. She traces the inside of his mouth with her tongue, like a cartographer, she’s precise and she makes him breathless. She barely pulls away, allowing him to catch his breath temporarily before resuming.

She’s warm when her tongue brushes against his, velvety and sweet. She tastes like wine and fruit, bitter and sweet. The taste of her is divine, opposing her unholy nature and the filthy words she uses to worship him. She pulls away again and straddles his hips. He barely recovers from her kiss when he feels her rub herself over his cock.

He feels his stomach do flips like a dog excited to show his master tricks for a treat. She moans softly and continues rolling her hips. He bends his knees and grasps her thighs painfully, watches between their bodies how she slides her wetness up and down his cock. She begins to unbutton his shirt and carelessly throw the clerical collar behind her when she fully gets the shirt open.

“Wait,” he stops her breathlessly, “is this your body?”

She raises a brow and looks down at herself with a nod. “Had to dig it out of a hole in the forest. I was a witch, a badass one. Those stupid hunters,” she grumbles the last bit under her breath, lifts herself up and positions his tip at her entrance. He raises a brow, too, a smile of amusement grew on his lips as he bit down on it. “Why? Do you like it?” She smirks, but his response is cut off by a moan when she lowers herself on his cock.

She feels even better than he dreamed. He huffs out a breath, he feels sweatier with the shirt and the suit jacket he still wears, but if she doesn’t feel like letting him take it off, he doesn’t mind. She grinds down on him and finds his hands to place one on her breasts and the other between her legs.

“You feel fucking amazing inside me, Dean,” she praises. His stomach lurches, the use of his name turns him on more, and he bucks his hips up. With a little moan she starts to lift herself up, he can feel every inch of her against his cock, the wetness, the warmth. He doesn’t think he’ll last as long as he did in his dreams. He carefully thumbs between her folds and feels for her clit. Her gasp guides him and he gently flicks it until she’s riding him faster. She leans back against his bent legs, arches her back, and he squeezes her breast roughly. “That’s right, you’re doing so good,” she says softly, spreading her legs to open herself more to his adept fingers.

Her words spur him on, the bedsprings start to squeak, the headboard starts to hit the wall, the upside down crucifix rattles on the wall. His senses are high. She feels amazing wrapped around his cock, her breathy moans fuel the fire of his orgasm. She tightens and squeezes around him, walls clamping down and keeping him inside her. He starts to get louder, too, he can’t help it. Groans slip from his lips and he whimpers occasionally, he can feel her react each time, and he doesn’t plan on shutting up.

“You’re so good, so goddamned perfect,” she cries softly, it’s the hottest thing he’s heard or seen. She gets sloppy and desperate, staring down at him covetously. He stares back, even if he wants to shut his eyes and hide away from her gaze. He rubs around her clit faster and watches her fall apart, little by little.

She sounds, looks, and feels even hotter. In his dreams, he understood her intentions and how hot it would be if they had sex, but the reality of it is far more intense and intimate compared to any of his dreams. She filled his mind with fantasies he’d never had before. Having sex in the confessional, on the altar, in the Bishop’s office, and countless locations that were far too holy—in his opinion—being defiled by both of them. He pinches her nipple roughly, she moans and tightens around him. Then, he flicks her clit faster, watches her seize while whining his name.

“Be a good boy and cum for me, Dean. Want you to fill me up,” she says breathlessly. He throbs inside of her and whimpers involuntarily, feeling himself spill inside her as if his body worked according to her commands.

“God,” he moans, bucking his hips upwards. He abandons her clit and her breast, and bruisingly digs his fingers into her thighs. He moans softly, letting the orgasm take over his body and mind. He pulls her down with both hands on her hips and keeps her on his cock shortly, her walls flutter and she inhales sharply. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes half-open.

“Holy fuck,” she gasps, toes curling as she falls apart at the sensation of his cum warming her up. She slowly moves up and down, letting him feel every inch of her pulsing walls along his throbbing cock. Her fingers find her clit to intensify and lengthen her orgasm, finishing what he’d begun. She doesn’t expect his tenderness, but he sits up and tangles his hand into her hair and kisses her deeply.

He mimics how she’d kissed him earlier. His inexperienced tongue traces the roof of her mouth and he brushes his tongue timidly against hers. She deepens the kiss, encourages him to keep doing what he wants to do and tugs his hair. His quiet moans make her horny again and he pulls away. Now that she’s abandoned her clit, she shoves his clothes off his shoulders.

She kisses his neck and his chest. His mind starts to drift now that he’s basking in the afterglow, her lips ghost downward and she lightly touches his nipple with the tip of her tongue. He stiffens and focuses on her again. She moves off his softened cock which is coated in a mixture of their release. She chuckles and then beholds him in his entirety.

He glows and he’s flushed, pink and shiny with sweat. His cock rests on his thighs and he has a mark on his hip from her lips. His lips are swollen, almost red from biting them, coated in saliva—hers and his. His hair is a mess, sexy and soft. He looks guilty now, but she moves forward and looks him in the eyes when she licks the cum off his sensitive cock.

“Don’t worry, Father,” she murmurs before sucking gently on the tip. He gasps and clutches her hair, pulling her off him forcibly. “Even for this… they’ll forgive you, Dean,” she whispers darkly. She gets off the bed and he watches her walk to the small altar he has. She steals a white cloth then walks around his room curiously. She stops in front of a photograph of Jesus and she opens her legs to clean herself.

His eyes widen as he watches her, “hey, come here.” He takes her attention away successfully and watches her drop her leg to walk towards him. “Why are you interested in me?” Is the first question that comes to mind as he panics. “Will you… be less interested in me if I sin more, like we did tonight?” He has the feeling part of her interest in him is simply the fact that he is the weakest, the most susceptible to sin, lust, and making mistakes.

“No… because you’re not going to stray from your beliefs,” she reassures him. “You actually believe, because of your father. Stay the way you are, Dean. You’re going to repent and you’ll mean it, but when you’re with me… you’ll sin again and I’ll defile you, over and over,” she smiles down at him and then climbs onto his bed again, she settles behind him, leaning against the headboard and the wall.

“Until when?” He asks, turning around to look at her.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, then her eyes flicker down to her body. She parts her folds with two fingers. “Taste me,” she tells him. He tears his eyes from her face to look between her legs. His mouth waters and he slowly gets down into his stomach and stares back up at her. He gently prods her clit with his tongue, her other hand moves into his hair while his tongue slides between her two fingers. “Don’t you worry about the when right now… you and I will have our fun.”

➥ god, if you are above

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