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kaleldobrev · 7 months

Text

A Simple Misunderstanding

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hughie might of overheard something he probably shouldn't have between you and Ben

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Drug Use, Soldier Boy (Yes, our macho man gets his own warning)

Authors Note: So, this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've been going back and forth debating if I was going to post this or not. But once I gave the summary to @zepskies she said she was intrigued, so I said, "What the heck?" and now it's posted for your enjoyment | This is my first time writing for this universe so I hope I was able to do these characters justice | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was the middle of the night and Hughie couldn’t sleep. Although him and The Boys were in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for miles, it surprised him how noisy everything could be. He had lived in New York City all his life; he was used to the noise. The bustling sounds of traffic, the occasional gunshot or stabbing, airplanes always flying overhead, or a supe destroying some vehicles while trying to catch a culprit. But the noises he heard were much different; it was the sounds of the crickets, droplets of water hitting an unwashed plate in the sink, and random incoherent whispering. The hustle and bustle of the city had become white noise to him.

Looking over at the clock it just struck 1:59am. He hadn’t been in bed long trying to sleep, only attempting to just a little past midnight. Since joining the group, it was unusual for him to actually get to bed at a normal time or even go to bed at all. He was used to going a day or two without sleep. Frenchie tempted him with some sort of drug to keep him going or an energy drink, MM would usually offer coffee which was the preferred method for Hughie. But at this point, the caffeine wasn’t working anymore, as he had started drinking it like water. Unhealthy for sure, but so was not sleeping for one, two, or three days straight.

This was the first time in a long time where everyone was actually sleeping, even Butcher. It was strange, because as long as Hughie had known him, he never once saw the man sleep. The closest he ever got was when he would get knocked out; but even then, that was kind of a rare occurrence.

Getting up from his bed he sat on the edge of it for a moment rubbing his face. He had wanted to stay in bed and keep trying to fall asleep, but he knew that there was no use. So he decided to implement a trick that he remembered his mother using when she couldn’t fall asleep or get back to sleep. When she had trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep, she would do various things to occupy herself until she felt tired enough to try and sleep again. Her usual go-to’s were either reading in the living room or listening to Billy Joel quietly to herself. Once, Hughie remembered waking up in the middle of the night and had found her humming quietly to herself while she read a book in the living room. The only light came from a single table lamp next to her.

Leaving the bedroom he started making his way down the hall toward the living room where he decided to watch some TV. There would probably be nothing worth watching at this time; just infomercials about grills or some kind of cleaning agent that didn’t work. He really wasn’t picky about what he watched, he just wanted something to help him fall asleep.

As he walked down the hall, he heard faint whispering coming from one of the bedrooms. He thought that he had been the only one up - guess he was wrong. The room in which he heard the whispering coming from was Soldier Boy's room - something that he didn't find surprising in the slightest, as he was someone that actively fought sleep. "I've slept enough," he would say.

He started walking away, but didn't move far as he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" That was your voice. What the Hell were you doing in his bedroom? And at this hour? Hughie thought to himself. He knew that the two of you were friends of some sort, as you were the only person that SB genuinely seemed to like and get along with, but for some reason, it didn't really occur to Hughie that you would be spending time with him this late into the night.

The next thing he heard was chuckling, chuckling from SB. "Trust me." The next sounds Hughie heard actually made his eyes go wide. It was the bedside drawer opening and closing just as quickly, the sound of some kind of plastic being opened, and then bed springs squeaking. The squeaking was so loud that he could only assume that it was the two of you moving in unison, not just one of you.

“Oh wow that’s…huge.” You commented, emphasizing the word ‘huge.’ Huge? Hughie thought. Gross.

Again, SB chuckled. “Never seen one so big Princess?” Princess?! Hughie was surprised he didn’t gag right then and there. Never did he ever want to hear SB say the word Princess, nor did he ever want to hear it in the context of it being used to describe you; his best friend since kindergarten.

“No, never.” You replied back, sounding as if you were embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve heard they can be that big but…” you trailed off.

So many emotions were taking over Hughie: but disgust was the main one. There were two things that his brain automatically came up with in this scenario. The first: barge into the room and stop you and Soldier Boy from having sex, the second: move far away as possible from the door and pretend this never happened. As much as he wanted to do the first option, he valued his life too much, didn't want to see Soldier Boy in all of his naked glory (once was enough when they were in Russia), nor did he want to be a cockblock for one of the oldest and most powerful supes in history. He knew, that being a cockblock would have been the very last thing he would do in life if he barged in. Option two it is, he thought to himself. With that decision, he never moved so quickly in his life.

The morning finally came and you were greeted by Ben having his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath his chin. His embrace around you was tight, but not so tight that if you needed to move, you could (not that he would let you move any way, he was too comfortable). He's getting better at not crushing me when we cuddle, you couldn't help but think. The position the two of you were in was an intimate one, and it had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. It was something that you never thought would ever happen, especially when you first met him a few months ago.

Your relationship with Ben had drastically changed in the short amount of time that you had known him and took a complete 180. When you first met him, you were initially excited to meet him because you had watched all of his movies on repeat growing up as your father was a huge Soldier Boy fan - it was something the two of you had bonded over. But when you met him, he was far from how you envisioned him to be. He wasn't this all-American hero who stood up against injustice - he was a misogynistic racist asshole.

As time went on, Ben had somehow started to grow on you. Although there were still elements of him that radiated misogynism and racism, you gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to certain things. How it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had spent 40 years essentially in isolation being tortured by the Russians; completely unaware of the massive changes that took place in the world. Once you had "remembered" that, and started spending more and more time with him, you had started to fall for him - and it happened relatively quick.

"Good morning." He said to you, his voice lazy as he kissed your bare shoulder.

"Good morning to you too." You replied back, pressing your back and ass closer into him.

"Your heart's beatin' a little fast there Princess." He smirked.

"It's just nice waking up like this, that's all." You said. "Well, you kissing my bare shoulder doesn't hurt either."

"You know, I can kiss other parts too." He said, keeping the smirk on his lips.

"Hmm, I know you can." You said, turning to face him. He leaned in and kissed you, a little surprised that he was the one that initiated. "Can I ask you something?"

You heard an annoyed sigh from him. "You're going to ask if I say no or not Sweetheart." He responded with his usual bluntness.

"Yeah you're right." You said. Ben couldn't help but slightly roll his eyes. "So my question," you began, turning to face him completely as you propped up your elbow on the pillow. "Why didn't you try and have sex with me last night?"

Ben looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You're disappointed that I didn't try and fuck you?" He let out a small chuckle at your question.

"Honestly...Yeah. I mean, everyone was sleeping, and I know you want to. Plus, I barely had anything on." When you came to his room last night, you had purposely wore more revealing clothes in order to tempt him - a tank top and boy shorts.

"You wouldn't've been able to stay quiet." He began. "Although, it would have been fun to hear you attempting to be quiet and failing miserably." There was that smirk again.

"You don't know that." You said, your fingertips running up and down his bare arm.

"Y/N, trust me. You wouldn't have." His confidence was almost radiating arrogance.

"Is that a promise?" You asked. Your question more bold than you had intended it to sound.

"Oh, it most definitely is." He said. "I'll tell you what. We can test it out tonight." He leaned in, inches away from your face, moving a strand of lose hair that had fallen in front of your face.

"Promise?" You asked, your voice low, a little hesitant.

"I didn't stutter did I?"

"No Sir." You said, leaning in and kissing him again.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, glasses of orange juice on the table. MM and Frenchie making breakfast for everyone while Kimiko helped to set the table. Butcher sat on the barstool on the island in the kitchen, every once in a while taking a sip of coffee and reading the paper. Hughie walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Butcher, his face looked like he had seen a ghost. Putting down the last plate, Kimiko looked at Hughie and walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond to her touch, which made her slightly frown with concern. Frenchie looked over at her and she signed something to him. “Petit Hughie, she wants to know what’s wrong.” Frenchie translated.

Hughie didn’t respond, he just sat there on the stool looking off into space. Frenchie waved his hand in front of Hughie’s face. “Petit Hughie?” Frenchie and MM exchanged looks, and Butcher put down the paper.

“Oi, lad.” He waved his hand in front of his face too. He looked over at MM and Frenchie. “I know what to do.” Without hesitation, Butcher slapped Hughie in the face, causing him to almost fall off the barstool.

Hughie started rubbing his cheek where Butcher had slapped him. "What the fuck was that for?"

"For being a creepy little shite and not saying anything when we're talkin' to ya." Butcher responded.

"I had uh, a rough night." Hughie said. He pointed at his cheek. "This isn't going to bruise is it?" He asked, Butcher rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to make it bruise?" He asked, smirking.

"Good morning everyone!" You practically sang as you walked into the kitchen. Everyone besides Ben had been there, as he was still currently pre-occupied with taking a shower. Everyone was currently sitting at the dining room table, slowly taking bites of their breakfast. Every so often, they took glances at you before looking back down at their plate of food.

Sitting down at the table, you took your usual spot next to Hughie and gave him a quick smile, before taking your fork and started digging into your pancakes. "MM, Frenchie, did you guys make this?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"Uh, yeah." MM responded, almost too quietly. It was a little strange to you how quietly he had responded, but at the same time, you didn't really think anything of it, as the last couple of days has been a little rough for everyone. Despite being in a safe house, you knew that MM was at least up some of the night making sure that all of you were actually safe. You weren't sure if it was because of the situation you all were in, his military background, his OCD, or a combination of the three.

After a few moments of silence Hughie finally spoke to you. "So, how did you uh, sleep?"

You took a sip of your orange juice before responding. "Pretty good actually. Best I've slept in quite a while." Which was true. "How about you?"

"Rough night." Hughie said, responding very quickly to your question, as if he already had his answered prepared.

You frowned at his answer. "I'm sorry. Nightmare? Couldn't sleep?"

"A little of both." He said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Ye-" Before he could finish his sentence, Ben walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten him about a week ago. Without saying a single word, Ben took his usual spot next to you and started digging into the plate of food in front of him.

You cleared your throat and looked at him, which caused him to look at you. "What?" He asked, a mouth full of pancakes.

"Isn't there something you'd like to say?" You asked.

"Christ on a cross..." He mumbled, before looking up. "Morning." He said, forcing a smile before looking down at his plate again. "Happy?" He mumbled just low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled at him. "Very." You whispered back.

"The things I fucking do for you." He mumbled.

Hughie stood up very abruptly, the utensils and plates shaking a bit. This abruptness had caused everyone to look at him (except for Ben, who didn't even seemed bothered in the slightest). "You know what, I'm just going to come out and say it." His voice confident.

"We know you're gay." Ben said, very nonchalantly, still not looking up. "It's uh, good for you." He looked up now, focusing his attention on Hughie. "Be proud or...whatever." He finished, flashing him a forced smile. Ben then turned toward his attention to you, looking for some kind of approval from you regarding what he just said. Trying to adjust to the modern age was hard for him, but he was thankful that you were there to help him navigate things.

"What? I-I'm not gay. For the last time, I'm with Annie." Hughie said, trying his best to defend himself.

"I've been told that's called a beard." Ben took another bite out of his pancakes, and your hand automatically went to his thigh, giving it a small squeeze. It was your way of basically telling him to stop talking. He looked at your hand before looking at you again. "What?"

You turned your attention to your friend. "Hughie, what did you want to say?"

"Okay. I'm just going to come out and say it. Ask it. Whatever!" His voice sounding insanely flustered. "Did you guys fuck last night?"

You felt your eyes go wide, your fingernails digging into Ben's pants. You didn't know what to say, you were speechless. "What's it to you?" Ben asked, not even seeming to be remotely fazed by Hughie's question.

"Because she's my friend." Hughie responded. He knew that his response wasn't good enough.

"Okay, and?" Ben gave him a confused look, unsure of what Hughie's point even was. "I'll repeat, what's it to you? Y/N doesn't ask every time you blow Butcher."

"Again, I'm not gay." Hughie said, his voice sounding defeated.

"Whatever. Point is, she doesn't fucking ask. So why are you asking?" You couldn't help but agree with Ben, who seemed to be very reasonable in his questioning for once.

Hughie looked at Ben and you, and then looked at the rest of the group - all of them staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Because..." he tried to find the right words. "Because you two are the reason why I couldn't sleep last night!" You and Ben exchanged looks, not understanding. The two of you focused your attention on him. Before either you or Ben could say anything, Hughie started talking again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He looked at you. "Never seen one so big?" He looked at Ben. "You're even wearing his fucking shirt!" Hughie pointed to the shirt you were wearing.

You looked down at your shirt before looking at Hughie again. "I always wear Ben's shirts." You stated.

"No, you don't actually!" Hughie's voice was starting to sound so frantic now.

"She looks damn good in them though." Ben commented, taking yours and his empty plate to the sink.

"Hughie, I can assure you. Me and him didn't have sex last night." You said, really trying your best to reassure your friend, even though - to Ben's point - it wasn't remotely his business anyway.

"We will tonight though." Ben said, his voice calm as it has been throughout this entire exchange.

"They didn't need to know that." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren't embarrassed that Ben said that, but it was something that you didn't think he needed to add to the conversation.

"Sure they did. I mean, your friend here seems interested." Ben walked over back to the table, placing two mugs of coffee before sitting back down next to you again.

"For the love of..." You mumbled. "We smoked a blunt last night! There! Happy?" Your voice was the one that sounded frantic now, with a small hint of annoyance added.

"You guys...smoked...a blunt?" Hughie felt his cheeks heating up, embarrassed by this whole exchange now. "So you guys weren't talking about the size of his -"

"Hughie you better not finish that fucking sentence I swear to God." MM said, his voice sounding as if he had lost all of his patience already for the day, and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet.

“Ben and I were talking and I had mentioned that I’ve never smoked a blunt before, or have done any kind of drugs so he offered to let me try it. That’s it.” There was much more to the conversation, but you didn't feel like adding anything else. The rest of the gang didn't need to know that you and Ben were planning on going some place far away from New York when all was said and done.

"You never smoked a blunt before? I'm shocked." Butcher stated. "Swear you have." For as long as he had known you (which was quite a while now, as you joined The Boys about a year before Lamplighter had killed Mallory's grandkids), he could have sworn up and down that you were on some kind of drugs, but he never could put his finger on it. He thought about asking you of course, but he always decided against it.

"It's shocking I know." You shrugged. "I guess it's never appealed to me."

"Well it's a good thing you're with Mister Coke Head over here." Butcher said, adding a little chuckle at the end.

"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm gonna start doing drugs with him Butcher." You defended.

"She'll be too busy doing other things." Ben smirked, before winking at you.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @zepskies If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #ben x you #ben x reader #reader insert #female reader #the boys amazon

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perseephoneee · 7 days

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⭑ FIC RECS ⭑

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ 1k celebration

last updated: 04/15/2024

↳ as a writer, i'm always consuming things about my favs, and i thought it was time to share some of my favorites. every story here has likely been reread by moi a million times. also-- my psyche can be easily viewed by how many stories are under one individuals *cries*

SUPERNATURAL

every headcanon from @via-l0ve

her boys @octoberclidan. (tfw)

dances with team free will @octoberclidan

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ DEAN WINCHESTER

cruel summer (18+) @waynes-multiverse

ladies with experience (18+) @hintsofhoney

dean reads you wrong @zepskies

she's my siren (18+) @fatecantstopme

smoke eater (series) @zepskies

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ SAM WINCHESTER

a taste of summer @impala-dreamer

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ CASTIEL

dreaming (18+) @impala-dreamer

beautiful to me @impala-dreamer

angel alpha (18+) @crashdevlin

i'll watch over you @octoberclidan

if you will have me, i'm yours (18+) @gilverrwrites

neckties @supernaturalfreewill

love, by any other name @zepskies

peculiar @supernaturalfreewill

because of books @supernaturalfreewill

last night on earth (18+) @hollybell51

don't bet on it (18+) @hollybell51

his charge (18+) @impala-dreamer

sharing is caring (III) @zepskies

TEEN WOLF

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ ISAAC LAHEY

sick reader @smellslikemultifandomimagines

aftercare @smellslikemultifandomimagines

hidden with isaac @scoopsahoy

mutual losing (18+) @smellslikemultifandomimagines

facesitting (18+) @smellslikemultifandomimagines

cruel summer @hotdogwillex

come back to me @hotdogwillex

cold feet, warm bodies (18+) @scoopsahoy

i'm gonna kiss you now @sourwulf

drunken confessions @teenwolffan-with-nolife

dream @rogershoe

fratboy!isaac (18+) (all time fav) @mermaidenisaacs

teaches you to kiss (18+) @mermaidenisaacs

prove me wrong (18+) @twjournals

VAMPIRE DIARIES

dating the mikaelsons @wholoveseggs

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ ELIJAH MIKAELSON

hold (18+) @wholoveseggs

extra-extraordinary (18+) @wholoveseggs

blood bath (18+) @wholoveseggs

warmth (18+) @wholoveseggs

the result of naps @fitzs-trained-monkey

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KLAUS MIKAELSON

she knew better (18+) @klausysworld

distracted @theeoriginals

you bring me home @theeoriginals

sharp (18+) @theeoriginals

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KOL MIKAELSON

christmas khaos @wholoveseggs

goodnight kisses @kmikaelsonimagines

frustrations (18+) @madhatterbri

thigh socks (18+) @geminioriginalsimagines

proposal @kmikaelsonimagines

Christmas in dixie @fitzs-trained-monkey

bruised and battered @fitzs-trained-monkey

shots @so-long-soldier-writes

little favors @fitzs-trained-monkey

of ice skates and sugar cookies @fitzs-trained-monkey

ten minute blood stain removal @fitzs-trained-monkey

like a box of chocolates @fitzs-trained-monkey

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KAI PARKER

for my valentine (18+) @babeydollx

lace (18+) @geminioriginalsimagines

game on (18+) @socio-kai-path1972

kisses @socio-kai-path1972

why? @socio-kai-path1972

affinity romance (18+) @socio-kai-path1972

is it hot in here? (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

party crasher (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

sex tea (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

say it again (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

the red means (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

the price of hatred (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

spoiled (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

birthday girl (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

STAR TREK

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JIM KIRK/BONES

a well documented debacle @mybullshitsensesaretingling

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ PAVEL CHEKOV

sweatpants @youre-on-a-starship

MARVEL

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LOKI

reformed villain squad @give-me-a-moose

overtime (18+) @cleo-fox

loki's happy ending @gingerwritess

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ BUCKY BARNES

graveyard @wkemeup

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ STEVEN GRANT/MARC SPECTOR

red flags (18+) @astroboots

HUNGER GAMES

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ FINNICK O'DAIR

oral headcanon (18+) @lucilleslore

darling and the virgin (18+) @wife-of-all-dilfs

TED LASSO

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JAMIE TARTT

chilly cheeks @veryberryjelly

about you @buckychristwrites

saved you a seat @benedictscanvas

operation: tartt's heart @theowritesstuff

DOCTOR WHO

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ TENTH DOCTOR

family christmas @writerlyhabits

gestures and evasion @doctenwho

before you go @doctorslove

falling in love again @doctorslove

CRIMINAL MINDS

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ SPENCER REID

virgin!spence (18+) @fortheloveofwonderland

i'd bottle the feelings you gave me @spencersfunkysocks

all the women he's loved before @fortheloveofwonderland

a helping hand (18+) @sinfulspencer

second date @samuel-de-champagne-problems

preciously pure (18+) @foxy-eva

STRANGER THINGS

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ BILLY HARGROVE

two ships passing in the night @hairringtonsteve

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waywardxwords · 5 months

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Taking Chances

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Series Warnings: Language, smut (eventually, so this series is 18+ only). Some others may appear. Warnings will be listed at the top of each chapter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

This was born out of the one shot I wrote in October called Rules were meant for Breaking. This story doesn't follow along with any specific timeline or storyline from Supernatural, and there will be things that differ in this story than what took place on the show.

Chapter 1 - Rules Were Meant for Breaking

Chapter 2 - Nothing to Lose

Chapter 3 - We'll Always Have Atlanta

Chapter 4 - Cherry Pie

Chapter 5 - Last Names

Chapter 6 - Demons, Spirits and Angels, Oh My!

Chapter 7 - We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Chapter 8 - Save Me

Chapter 9 - Stay (4/25)

Chapter 10 - Call Me Yours

Chapter 11 - Tell Me I'm Gonna Be Okay

Chapter 12 - We're All Afraid Sometimes

Chapter 13 - Home

A/N: It feels so good to be starting up a new series, I've missed writing the last few weeks! Updates will be made every Thursday!

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @hallecarey1 @zepskies @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197 @deans-baby-momma @nix-rose @djs8891 @globetrotter28 @k-slla @agentorange9595 @dragonfly92 @nancymcl @springsteeen @perpetualabsurdity @deanwinchestersgirl87 @mimi-luvzyu @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @ultimatecin73 @impalaspixie @daughterofcain-67 @lacilou @jasminewinter140 @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2 @rizlowwritessortof @marimarvelfan @jc-winchester @taylortot @siampie1990 @thewritersaddictions @raisinggray @tabsluvsu @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @nyotamalfoy @ades106 @akshi8278 @fanfic-n-tabulous @officialnighttime @so-get-this-sammy @malindacath

Want to join the Tag List? Click here!

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x female oc #dean winchester x ofc #taking chances #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #spn fan fiction #spn fan fic

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deanwinchesterswitch · 2 months

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Need reading material for the weekend?

Check out these fabulous blogs.

@thinkinghardhardlythinking // @wayward-and-worn @princessmisery666 // @waywardbaby // @impala-dreamer // @muchamusedaboutnothing // @calaofnoldor // @justagirlinafandomworld // @zepskies // @stusbunker // @thoughtslikeaminefield // @watermelonlipstick // @carryonmywaywardcaptain // @avanatural // @amanda-teaches // @coffee-obsessed-writer // @deanwanddamons // @jawritter // @cleighwrites // @kittenofdoomage // @atwistoffate // @covered-byroses // @hoboal87 //@cockslutpadalecki // @girl-next-door-writes // @idreamofplaid // @talesmaniac89 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @winchest09 // @jensengirl83 // @kickingitwithkirk // @my-proof-is-you // @risingphoenix761 // @soaringeag1e // @smol-and-grumpy // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @angelkurenai // @rizlowwritessortof // @there-must-be-a-lock // @littlegreenplasticsoldier // @katelyn--renee // @enigmalynne //@our-jensen-ackles-love // @wingedcatninja // @fictionalabyss // @atc74 // @talltalesandbedtimestories // @navybrat817 // @trexrambling // @little-diable // @lipstickandwhiskey // @sunlightdances // @wkemeup

There are also over seventy stories posted on @jacklesversebingo!

#blog recs #fabulous writers

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siampie · 14 days

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Get Off the Highway || Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of depression

A/N: Alright, I struggled to write this chapter. I wanted to get the interactions between Dean and Reader right but also, wanted to give you more info on Reader. So, I really hope you’ll like this chapter.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

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Tag list: @lyarr24, @deans-baby-momma, @hell0-ki11y111, @kr804573, @zepskies, @impalari, @urinternetmom, @sushiumex

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You poured the salt on the corpse. You cracked a match and threw it on the body. Flames engulfed the bones. You stood there for a little while longer. The poor girl had not stood a chance. Her family had been horrible to her. Put her through torture. And that was decades ago. She had no reasons to remain amongst the living, no reasons to haunt them. They weren’t the one who had hurt her and yet, she still wanted revenge. Blinded by her rage, the spirit had killed the people that had lived in her mansion over the years. Some were classified as natural deaths, and others as freak accidents. With so many deaths in one mansion over the years. All happening at a specific time of the years, you had to check it out.

It was a run of the mill hunt. Quite easy. You threw your bags in the trunk of your car, and climbed in the driver’s seat. Your goal was to get out of town as quick as possible, to disappear. You drove through the night. You wanted to get to your small flat as quick as possible.

Your two bedrooms apartment was your refuge. You could go there and recuperate for a few days. You loved hunting, you really did but you sometimes needed a break from it. Adding to the dangerous nature of the job, and the constant near death experiences, it was also draining. And rarely, was it ever rewarding. But that was not why you were doing it. You truly believed that everyone in this life was born with a purpose. There were people born to be doctors, or cops, or even firemen. And some were born to be hunters. That was you.

One fateful night, you found out that monsters were real. Everything that went bumping into the night, the monsters under the bed, the witches, vampires, werewolves, they were all real. That fateful night was also the start of your aversion for woods, camping and wendigos. You hated all three of those things, and you avoided them at all cost. But it had not deterred you from getting into the life. After finding out about them being real, you could not just ignore it. You could not keep living your life as though nothing had happened. As though you knew nothing of monsters and of the people that hunted them.

So, you became one yourself.

The sounds of gunfire welcomed you as you pushed your door open. And the voice of your youngest brother swearing at the television followed. You pushed your door closed behind you with a tired sigh. Sure, you had texted him to let him know that you would soon be back. But you had not expected him to be there still.

“That’s not why I left you a key, you know?” You said dropping your bags by the door, after you locked it.

He put down the controller on the coffee table. “Your plant is taken care of.” He shrugged turning to you. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” You answered dryly. You dropped your keys on your dinner table, and moved to your kitchen. “Want a beer?”

“Yeah,” He got up and followed you into your kitchen. “So, how was it?”

“Matt—”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He leaned on the counter behind him.

“I don’t want to tell you.” You shook your head. “I’m not talking about it with you or anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“Because—we are talking about hunting monsters. And I don’t want any of you into the life.” You moved back into your living room. “And what the hell are you still doing here anyway? Don’t you have a girlfriend to go back to?”

“Just wanted to make sure, you were alright before I left.” He shrugged.

You smiled fondly at him. “That’s so sweet.” You cooed at him, pinching his cheek. He swatted it away.

“Stop.”

You snorted. “I’m alright, not injured. So, you can go back to your girlfriend.” You slapped his shoulder.

“you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nodded. “Go.”

“Alright, call if you need anything.”

“I won’t.” You called after him. “And don’t call me for the next few days, please.”

“I will.” He walked and locked behind him.

You spent the next few days locked up in your apartment. True to his words, your brother called you. But you really did not mind. Your youngest brother only wanted to make sure that you were taken care off. After all, you were living alone while he and your two other siblings had people to come home to.

Building relationships with anyone had never been easy for you. Especially romantic ones. Something always went wrong. You felt as though you were giving more than you were receiving. You always thought that you were not understood as you did them. And instead of expressing those things, you kept quiet. You let things go, hoping they would solve themselves. And ultimately, it would lead to break-up.

You never stayed home too long. You gave yourself a few days off, away from hunting and monsters, before going back into the fray. It wasn’t surprising to find you back on the road within days. And you always let your brother know when you did.

Out of all your siblings, he was the closest to you. The one that truly worried about you and made sure you were alright and taken care of, when you were home. And to think both of you hated each other growing up, was just laughable now. You knew you had failed him when you were younger. Always siding with your parents, trying your best to keep peace within your family. It had put a strain on your relationship with your siblings over the years.

“Agent Prentiss, FBI.” You flashed your fake FBI badge to the officer on the scene.

“Officer Davis.” He introduced himself. His eyes inevitably landed on your cleavage area.

Your white buttoned-down shirt was a little tight around your breast, you had left a couples of buttons undone. Which was giving him a glimpse of it

“What brings the FBI into this neck of the wood?” Davis said, clearing his throat.

You smirked as you caught him ogling at your cleavage. “The bureau has taken an interest into the recent strings of death that has been happening lately.”

“There’s nothing interesting in a couple of animal attacks.” Davis scoffed.

“True but these are quite unusual.” You pointed out. "Hearts missing. And nothing else. Doesn't really sound like an animal to me."

“Look, it’s better if people think it’s an animal.” Davis said quietly to you. “We don’t want them to panic while there’s a killer on the loose.”

“I completely understand your situation, trust me.” You told him. “I’m only here to help you. Maybe, a set of fresh eyes may help you see things a little clearer.” He seemed to hesitate. “I don’t want to step on your toes, here. I really do want to stop the killings. So, let me help you.”

You looked up at him. He ran a hand on the back of his neck. Hesitating on letting you in the investigation. He looked around you, the crowd at the edge of the crime scenes, the journalist looking for sensational news. Clearly, he was at a loss. He needed to provide answers to the victims’ family.

The killing spree had started a few days ago. It was pretty gruesome. Dead bodies had been found recently; their hearts had been ripped out. For you, it was quite an easy hunt. It was clearly werewolves. The deaths started with the full moon, and their hearts were missing.

“What can you tell me about the victim?”

“Young woman, early twenties,” He cleared his throat. He started to lead you toward the victim, where the Medical Examiner was getting a look at the victim. “She was found by a couple of joggers.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow to him. “People jog in this area?”

“Yeah, there’s a short trail that go into the woods for a few miles, before it cuts back into the park over there.” He gestured over your shoulder.

You looked over your shoulders briefly, and did a double take when you recognized a couple of familiar faces. “You have got to be kidding me.” You said under your breath.

“What was that?” Officer Davis asked you.

“It seems there was a mix up at the bureau.” You smiled tightly at Davis. “Anyway—” You turned to the M.E. “Anything you can tell me on the cause of death?”

The M.E. looked to the leading officer for approval. The latter nodded at her. “Same as the others.” She said, moving the head of the young woman to the side. “No apparent defensive wounds, she was hit over the head. Same spot as the others,” her hands left her head and went to victim’s wrists. “Ligature marks, and of course her heart’s missing.”

It looked like a werewolf kill alright. Although, the ligatures marks did not make much sense to you. Neither did the head trauma. Werewolves were pretty strong creatures and this seemed to indicate that they needed to restrain the victim before the kill, but why?

You turned around to see Dean and Sam Winchester were walking up to you. You excused yourself and met the brothers halfway. Dean looked a little peeved by your presence there. You approached them under his glare. You really did not get why he was mad about you being there. And you didn’t care.

“Winchesters, we meet again.” You said as a form of greeting.

Sam smiled down at you. “It’s good to see you.” Dean scoffed at that.

“Not everybody agrees.” Your eyes drifted to Dean briefly before you returned your attention on Sam.

“You’re not working the case.” Dean said and you glanced up at him confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not working the case.” Dean then gestured between him and Sam. “We are.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I already have an in with the officers. I got this under control. You can sit this one out. You do look like you need some rest, you look tired.” You patted his shoulder; and he recoiled from your touch.

“I don’t need rest.” He pointed an angry finger under your nose. “And really?!” Dean’s eyebrows went up into his hairline. “You got this under control?”

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded.

“So, you have it all figured out already?” Dean questioned, clearly hostile.

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “Dead bodies, heart’s missing. I’d say—werewolves.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“And you do?”

“How can you be so sure it’s werewolves?” He questioned.

“Because it makes sense.” You argued back. “What else could it be?”

“Skinwalker.” He shrugged smugly.

“Please.” You scoffed. “You’re just pulling something out of your ass.”

“Dean’s right.” Sam sighed. “It could be a skinwalker. We don’t know that for sure.”

“We do.” You retorted. “It’s a full moon.”

“It won’t matter if it’s a skinwalker.” Dean shook his head.

“Alright.” You snapped at him. “I’ll take that in consideration. Thank you for your help. Go home.”

You turned away from Dean and stomped to your car. You were angry with him, now. He was talking to you as though you didn’t know how to do your job.

Dean grabbed your arm, stopping you on your way to your car. “Listen, kid—“ You looked between him and the grip he had on your arm. “You could barely handle a vampire hunt on your own and now you want to take on werewolves?” You ripped your arm out of his grip. “You should really leave this one to us.”

“First, not a kid. Never was.” You replied. “Second, I called for help because I had never hunted vampires before.” You walked closer to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. “I know how to handle myself on a hunt. Not that’s any of your business, Winchester. I don’t need you or your brother, I can take care of this.”

You turned around and ripped the door to the driver’s seat open, before slamming it shut. And peeled out of there. How dared he? He treated you as though you were an amateur. This wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew how to hunt. You weren't new to this job. You should have reminded him that you saved his life on this vampire hunt. Had he forgotten?

You couldn’t care less if he stayed in town or if he left. You would just proceed with the hunt. Whether it was a werewolf or Skinwalker; as they suggested; you’d kill it and be out of town. After all, it was an easy enough hunt.

As you’d soon find out, they, in fact, did not leave town. You crossed path with them at the diner. You sent a glare Dean’s way as you walked up to one of the empty booths. You were determined to ignore Dean Winchester and his brother. You were determined to show them that you could handle yourself, and take care of it all on your own.

You didn’t need them. You had never needed anyone.

You sat alone in your booth and ate your lunch while reviewing the victims’ files. They all had been found by the trail near the small wooded area. Heart’s missing, ligatures marks, slight head trauma. The heart being ripped out, indicated a werewolf kill but the ligatures marks and the head trauma suggested something different. You didn’t understand why they were there. Why did they tie up the victims?

There was only one way to find out but you did not like it. You had an aversion for the wooded areas by night. More than anything. However you were a hunter and sometimes, you had to do what you had to do. So, you traded your FBI pantsuit for dark jeans that hugged your large hips and thick thighs perfectly. You traded your dress shirt for a tie-dye crop top that showed a sliver of your skin, and the stretchmarks that peeked out of your waistband. Scars that you had gained over the years as your body changed. It had grown and suffered. It wasn’t slim or thin, it was curvy and big. You had large hips, thick and plushy thighs, a large breast. You loved your body and you had learned to flaunt it.

Flaunting your assets was not what you were going to do tonight. Anyone who knew you, would tell you it was the worst idea you’d ever had. Especially knowing your aversion for the woods at night time. Garth would advise you to ask the Winchesters, since they were in town, to accompany you. And in retrospect, you probably should have. But he didn’t need to know about that.

“Son of a gun!” You breathed out shakily. You tightened your dark green flannel and your thick jacket around your torso.

You were too stubborn to ask for help when you should. But asking for help was like admitting weakness. And you refused to appear weak in front of Dean Winchester. He already thought you were incapable. You didn’t want him to think of you as weak. You were not going to give him the satisfaction.

Your fingers were tight around your lamp torch. Your heart beating wildly beneath your ribcage. Every breath you took was shaky. Everything in you was screaming at you to run. To go to safety. But you were a hunter. You needed to put an end to the killings. You needed to take care of the werewolf. Or the skinwalker.

Crunch. You froze. Crunch. You pulled out your gun. Crunch. A snort. You knew it wasn’t human. You took another shaky breath. A failed attempt to steady yourself. Your feet remained rooted to the ground. As the sounds were coming closer to your position. You needed to move. And fast.

When your body finally obeyed your brain, it was already too late. You had barely moved when the beast pounced on you. You let out a scream as you landed on your back. The wind got knocked out of you. Your gun flew away from you.

There you were, defenseless. And alone.

Yellow eyes staring into yours. Bared fangs as it snarled at you. Its breath was hot on your face. You did not wish to die here. Alone. Away from your family. This seemed much too familiar to you. A feeling of déjà-vu. You hated it. You hated the woods. You hated that monster breathing down on your face.

A shot rang. Its head snapped up to the sound. Two tall figures were rushing to your aid. You could have sobbed with relief at seeing them. But you weren’t out of the woods yet. No pun intended.

Its snarled at them. They fired their guns again. The creature fled as fast as they could. Sam rushed to your aid while Dean pursued the monster.

“Hey,” He helped you up. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. You were still shaken up. This was too close. You could have died tonight. All of that because you weren’t prepared. Because you wanted to prove something. You screwed up. You clenched your fists repeatedly. You just wanted for your hands to stop shaking. If they could only stop shaking.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Dean snapped at you, once he came back.

“What?”

“We were tracking it down and now it’s gone.” He continued. “You screwed it all up.”

“Dean.” Sam put a hand on his brother’s chest.

“Excuse you!” You snapped back at him. “I screwed up? I was being attacked.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t know what you’re doing, princess.” Dean stepped closer to you, glaring down at you. “I don’t know how you survived this long on your own, but it won’t last much longer if you keep pulling stupid stunts like that. Leave this to us before you get yourself killed.”

What he said wasn’t untrue. You could have gotten yourself killed tonight. It was reckless to go in before truly knowing what was behind the attacks. Although, that was unfair of him to say. You didn’t set out to be attacked or get yourself killed. You were only trying to do your job. You were a hunter and this was what hunters do. This was what they were doing. So, why was it okay for them to do but not for you?

No one believed in you. No matter how hard you tried they still thought you were uncapable. You had met hunters like him before. Doubting you and your skills. You were too soft, they said. You scared too easy, they said. However, you had proven to them that you knew what you were doing. You had proven to them that you got the job done.

You glared back at him. “Like you care.” You wanted to sound harsh, angry. You wanted him to know that you won’t let him get to you. But that wasn’t how it sounded coming out of your mouth.

You sounded tired and defeated. No one would care if you did die. Not the Winchesters. Not even your own family. Those words had always been floating in your brain for years. After all, you had done so many things for so many people. So many things that went unnoticed. Of course, if you were to disappear. No one would notice the difference. They didn’t need you. Not as much as you needed them. You felt the tears pressed against your eyes.

You would not give him the satisfaction to see you cry, on top of everything else. So, you turned around and walked away from the Winchesters. You heard Sam called you but you ignored him.

You needed to get away from the woods. You needed to get away from Dean.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester angst #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #angst

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pizzagirlxnsfwx · 3 months

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As a big big Supernatural fan, I love finding new fics that make me feel all tingly or sad or just make me ‘feel’ in general AND YOU KNOW WHAT? THESE AMAZING WRITERS DESERVE AN HONOURABLE MENTION❤️❤️

@zepskies @hintsofhoney @negans-lucille-tblr @makeadealwithdean @octoberclidan @impala-dreamer @queen-of-deans-booty @writethelifeyouwant

@kaleldobrev @luci-in-trenchcoats so sorry I forgot to tag you guys!

I love your content a lottttt so keep writing babes! All the best to y’all and THANK YOU very much for constantly giving us so many great stories to read💯🥳

Add any of your favourite fic writers below. Let’s start a thread to appreciate these amazing humans!🥹We love you❤️🥰

#dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #castiel #jensen ackles #destiel #spnfandom #spn #fic writer #fanfictionstaketimeandenergytowrite #tag your favorite

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thebiggerbear · 9 months

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The Ghosts Are Coming For You Chapter 1 - Beau Arlen x Reader

Pairing: Beau x Female!Reader; Beau x Female!Detective!Reader

A/N: This is my first foray into the character x reader side of writing. I hope it's okay and you guys like it.

To my lovely beta Em, you rock girl!

Disclaimer: Let me just say up front, I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Also, this story is going to take place over a few months. Some things might be delayed or appear illogical to not have been thought of before they take place in the timeline, but it’s purely for story purposes.

Tl;dr: I made shit up.

Warnings: death, graphic descriptions of murder, mention of past sexual assaults, mention of dead body, discussion of dead bodies

Word Count: 7065

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Series Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @superrey; @fromcaintodean; @stoneyggirl2; @lacilou; @zepskies; @perpetualabsurdity; @deansbbyx; @syrma-sensei; @globetrotter28; @roseblue373; @angelbabyyy99; @hobby27

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @birdiellie; @illicithallways; @muhahaha303

“Got it, Cap. We’re on our way.”

You made your way over to your partner, Jack Darcy, with your brows raised in question as you handed him his coffee. “New case?”

He gave you an appreciative smile. “Yep. Body found on a property over on Missoula. Cap said we need to get our asses over there asap.”

“Okay,” you sighed, opening the passenger door.

Once you and Jack were settled inside the car, he turned a smirk on you after pulling away from the curb. “What’s wrong, Y/L/N? Getting tired of Homicide already?”

You shrugged half-heartedly, keeping your eyes on the road. “Just another day, another body.”

“You’ve only been working this beat for four months. It can’t be that bad.”

It was that bad. Transferring to Montana from New York, you prepared yourself for small city life, thinking things would slow down since the local population you’d be protecting and serving had drastically reduced from over a million to thousands. Boy, had you been wrong.

“Four months and five years,” you corrected. You’d worked your way up to Homicide in Manhattan but once you got there, as good as you were at it, it wasn’t where you wanted to stay. Hence the transfer to Big Sky Country. You had heard Montana was beautiful and not as chaotically complicated as the Big Apple. So far, only one of those things had proven to be true. Something you thought about as you stared out the window at the clear blue sky.

“Yeah, but, you have to admit, things aren’t as crazy here. We’re lucky to get, what, maybe three cases a week?”

“That’s three too many,” you muttered. In the reflection of your window, you saw Jack roll his eyes but he stayed quiet. In the short time you’d been partnered, he already knew to leave things be when you’d get in this type of mood, which seemed to happen every time you got a new case lately.

The truth was that you were tired — tired of the bodies piling up, tired of the horrors you saw that people could inflict on one another. Not to mention you couldn’t even begin to count how many unsolved homicide cases there were, active and cold. Once you landed here, you noticed the differences right away between your former precinct and your new one, resources and budgets being two of them. Your unit was smaller than your previous one and the bureaucratic bullshit that existed everywhere no matter the location in the country was even different in its own ways. You told yourself that you were making a difference, just like you had back in New York, but lately, that mantra wasn’t cutting it. Unbeknownst to Jack or anyone else in the squad, you were starting to wonder if maybe you should pursue a different path in law enforcement, transfer to a different department. Just like your former partner had urged you to do back when he left. Though, what that could be and if it was even possible, you had no idea, but you were thinking about it.

You opened your window slightly, feeling the crisp air hitting you, and it encouraged you to take a deep breath, ignoring the fact that you were barreling towards yet another murder scene, yet another poor soul that had met with a foul end at someone else’s hand.

Jack listed off the details he had been told so far about the case that had been dropped in your laps, making your eyes close in pain and had you grabbing at your necklace under your shirt. Memories flashed through your mind of a crying family, a picture of a smiling young girl in her high school graduation cap and gown with her proudly holding up her diploma, and a sinister smile from an older man in an interrogation room as his eyes hungrily roved over pictures of the crime scene he was accused of creating. You shook your head to clear your mind and took another deep breath of the Montana air in order to assist in dispeling the thoughts, helping you keep your feet in the present you found yourself in and serving as a reminder to leave the past behind as you had promised yourself you would when you moved out here.

As horrible as this new case sounded, you hoped it wouldn’t be connected to the string of murders you and Jack had been investigating since your arrival.

And almost as if your partner had heard your thoughts, he spoke it into existence. “It might not be connected,” he said hopefully, echoing your own wish. “It might be a standalone. Some random.”

“Could be,” you agreed. “But you know as well as I do that it already sounds like the same MO.”

Jack thought over that for a moment. “We won’t know for sure until we get there and take a look around,” he reminded you. He didn’t want it to be connected anymore than you did.

You nodded and decided to leave it for now, knowing he was right. You needed to get there and start your own investigation; that was the only way to know for certain if this victim would be added to the already sizable file you had sitting on your desk back at the station.

As Jack sped you both towards the scene, you offered up a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you wouldn’t need to add this person’s name to your growing list, and that you’d find whoever was responsible. While you were at it, you also prayed for the one thing you asked every single day: for people to stop hurting one another. It might be an impossible thought when there were 8 billion people running around the planet but you still asked nonetheless. If it was answered, you’d be out of a job, yet you would never be so happy to have to look for a new line of work. However, until that prayer was answered or until you made the decision to move on from Homicide, you’d still continue to work the cases and do your best to find answers as well as justice for the victims alongside the loved ones left behind to suffer.

Gripping the pendant on your necklace, you took another deep breath and put your game face on when Jack pulled up to the scene swarming with Helena PD officers and yellow crime scene tape, bordered by curious neighbors and local media. The white sheet instantly caught your eye and you turned to Jack, both of you exchanging a nod before getting out of the car to make your way towards the newest crime scene of your case files list.

You were still inspecting the body when you heard Jack mutter, “Aw, hell.” You glanced up, furrowing your brows in question. He inclined his head towards a Bronco that had just pulled up to the scene.

You turned to see a blonde woman and a man with a Stetson on his head exit the vehicle. The glint of a badge caught your eye from the man��s belt when he moved to close the door. Both he and the woman started glancing around, walking up to one of the officers standing sentry at the surrounding crime scene tape and speaking with him. You exchanged a glance with Jack before returning your attention to the body. “Deputies from the Sheriff’s Department?”

Your precinct had clashed with them before, though clashed was a bit of a strong word. Compared to Manhattan, the two departments played better together in their joint sandbox; still, that didn’t mean there wasn’t the occasional pissing match, especially when there was a possibility of jurisdictions overlapping. You had heard all about it from your coworkers but it rarely ever happened when you and Jack caught a case.

“The sheriff,” Jack clarified, making you gape up at him in surprise before turning to look over the man with the hat and beard again with a more discerning eye.

“He’s…young.” He was definitely not what you expected, and you were even more surprised that he hadn’t driven himself to the scene, idly wondering if his department vehicle was possibly in the shop.

“Youngest they’ve ever had I’ve heard, and a transplant from Texas, too. One of the good ol’ boys.” So, this was the sheriff you’d heard so much about. Who was the blonde then? You watched as the officer the two had been speaking to held up the tape and let them through.

And as if he could read your mind, Jack then added, inclining his head in the blonde’s direction, “That’s his undersheriff, Jenny Hoyt.” You recognized the name. You’d heard of her as well. A bit of a wildcard, that one, and she didn’t play too well with others at times. “She’s a local. Rumor also has it that she gets plenty under the sheriff.” You glared over at your partner. He laughed and threw his hands up. “Hey, I’m just saying that’s the rumor.”

Rolling your eyes, you went back to your job. You were studying the shallow scrapes on the back of the woman’s wrist when you heard Jack snapping his gloves off and saw him get up out of the corner of your eye.

“Sheriff,” he greeted. “Jack Darcy, Homicide.”

The man gave him a nod. “Beau Arlen. So, what do we have here?” You could hear the twang coming through. He was from Texas alright.

“37 year old female victim, yet to be identified. Homeowner found her this morning when he was letting his dog out, called us right away.”

“Coroner get a look at her yet?”

“He’s en route. Detective Y/L/N and I are doing the initial workup, we’ll let him take over when he gets here. You know the drill.”

“Oh, I do.”

“Do we have any idea on motive?” Through your peripherals, you saw the undersheriff take off her sunglasses and hold out her hand for gloves. An officer handed her a pair and you could hear the tell-tale snapping.

“None yet. Appears to be a brutal stabbing and her throat was cut. Attack could have happened overnight, while she was walking or waiting for a ride, we’re not sure yet. It’s really too early to tell on motive, but don’t worry, Sheriff, we got it from here.” Jack was giving them just enough info to address what they were seeing while also politely shooing them away. You were grateful for it. You weren’t done examining the body or the scene just yet.

The sheriff chuckled good-naturedly. “I’m sure you do. We heard the call and we were in the area, so we figured we’d drop by and see if you city boys needed any help.”

You bit your lip to keep the wiseass remark you wanted to make from slipping out of your mouth. Jack was right; he sounded like one of the good ol’ boys. He probably meant well but damn did it irritate you when you heard remarks like that, especially when you were mid-investigation onsite. Neither you nor Jack had time for this. Nevertheless, you swallowed down the retort and instead focused on the scene. You had only been here for four months so you were still new, and if you wanted to make a leap somewhere down the line, you needed to play nice and not cause any waves.

In the corner of your vision, Hoyt had bent down on the opposite side of the body, her fingers inspecting the woman’s neck where the more severe gashes were. “Any initial impression on the actual cause of death?”

Okay, fuck playing nice. You weren’t territorial or easily bothered, but other than Jack, you didn’t remember asking for another partner. Any other case you’d have just rolled your eyes and sat back while she did her own workup, entertained at her thinking she would know better than yours or Jack’s experience in homicide, but not today and definitely not this case. “Well, I’m no M.E. but I’d say the huge knife wound to the heart along with the throat slash are pretty good bets for being the culprit. Though we’d have to rule out strangulation based on the ligature marks on her neck, you know, just to be safe.”

“Strangulation, too? That’s overkill,” Hoyt murmured, clearly not picking up on your sarcasm.

“Hence homicide.” You ignored her glare and went back to doing your job. Jack chuckled under his breath at your smartassery.

“Well, we’ll just get out of your way and let you continue playing Coroner then.”

You shrugged, not caring in the least about her attitude. “That’d be great, thanks.” The sooner she cleared out and let you finish doing your job, the better.

She scoffed. “There’s no need to be so—”

“Hoyt,” the sheriff warned. “Play nice. Let’s try and remember we’re all on the same team here.”

You couldn’t help but smirk when the sheriff pulled on her leash. Undersheriff or not, how dare she push her way into your crime scene and start questioning you?

Jack spoke up then. “Sheriff Arlen, Hoyt, this is my partner, Detective Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure,” you ground out, still staring down at the marks on the victim’s neck and the pattern of bruising that was starting to become eerily familiar.

“Likewise,” the sheriff replied. Hoyt stayed silent, her narrowed eyes trained on you.

Jack exchanged glances with the man before clearing his throat. “Anyway, Sheriff, as you can see, we’ve got things well in hand. We appreciate you stopping by, though.”

Beau shot him an amiable smile. “Of course. We’ll get out of your hair. Come on, Hoyt, let’s leave them to it.”

Hoyt never broke her gaze away from you as she got to her feet, snapping off her gloves. You smirked wider, shaking your head in amusement.

Jack’s phone started ringing and he grabbed it. “Sorry, gotta take this.” At Beau waving him off, he immediately picked up the call. “Yeah, Cap? Ah, we’re still going over it but—yeah she’s looking at the body right now. Looks like the attack didn’t happen onsite but she’s confirming that right—.”

“She wasn’t attacked here,” you confirmed for him, never taking your eyes off of the scene in front of you.

“Sorry, Cap, one sec. What was that, Y/L/N?”

You slowly lifted your eyes to his. “She wasn’t killed onsite.” You saw Jack’s shoulders slump slightly and any hope he had held onto when taking Anderson’s call immediately go right out of him. You both already knew as much, the signs of a body dump surrounding the scene, but Jack didn’t want to be the bearer of that news to your captain.

Jack told Captain Anderson he’d call him right back and promptly hung up. “You’re sure?” He asked, sounding deflated.

You gave him a nod, glancing at him somewhat sympathetically. “Positive.”

Your partner sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

“What makes you so sure?” Hoyt questioned, her arms crossed and scowl trained on you.

So begins the pissing match. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you pointed to the body. “What’s the one thing missing from this scene that should be everywhere?”

Both the blonde and the sheriff quickly scanned the area. “Blood,” the man answered.

“Blood,” you confirmed. “There are no footprints or drag marks around the body. No ID, barefoot, clothes are slightly torn and oversaturated with blood but otherwise holding up well, blood and mud-stained soles of her feet on a well manicured lawn after a dry evening with no blood drops or trails anywhere, decomp is more advanced than it should be if she died last night…she was dumped here.” You then pointed to the shallow cuts you found near the victim’s hands and wrists. “And she fought like hell.” You let your eyes linger on the victim for a moment, shaking your head sadly, and got up with a sigh. “She was tortured for a while before she was killed.”

“But why dump the body here? On some random person’s lawn in the middle of the city where the killer could have easily been seen or caught on camera? Why not leave her somewhere she’d never be found, where they wouldn’t have to risk themselves being seen?”

Your gaze moved over to Jack, both of you already knowing the answer to all of that, and he heaved his own heavy sigh.

“To send a message,” he answered.

“A message? To whom?” Hoyt asked.

Your eyes never leaving Jack’s, you snapped your gloves off, both of you opting not to share anything outside of the department. If Hoyt wanted answers, she could call Anderson and he could field that one. “That’s what we’re going to try to find out. Darcy, let’s start sifting through missing person reports from the last few days to see if any match her description.”

“She could have been held longer than that,” Hoyt piped in.

You turned a glare on her. “No, she couldn’t have.” What was with this blonde? Her boss who outranked her already told her to leave it alone. So why couldn’t she just leave you to your crime scene that you clearly knew more about than she did and just be gone already? One glance at the sheriff studying the two of you intently answered that for you. She was trying to show you up in front of him or show off for him, you weren’t quite sure which.

“What makes you so sure?” Hoyt was outright smirking at you now, content in her attempt to ruffle your feathers.

“As I said, the clothes are in excellent condition despite being soiled and there’s also the state of decomposition of the body. Had she been held longer than the time frame I just mentioned and say, killed yesterday, the state of the clothes would be much worse and they would have started deteriorating sooner. Not to mention her pedicure was not that old. Cuticles are pressed and intact.”

“She could have touched it up herself before she was taken. Or gotten it done right before.”

“Hoyt.” Beau gave her a look when she turned her smirk on him. “Let it go. They’ve got it.”

“That’s alright.” You took a step closer, staring down Hoyt and smirking right back. “Undersheriff Hoyt, if you would like to take over the investigation, by all means.” You waved a hand at the scene in front of you, ignoring Jack’s wide eyes and the motions he made with his hand to get you to rescind that offer. “If you’d like, I can make sure the State is made aware that you are now heading this case.”

“Wait, State’s involved?” The sheriff asked in surprise that then turned dubious.

“They are,” you answered before Jack could, never looking away from the blonde.

“Already?” Hoyt asked, suspicion clear as day on her face.

“Already,” you confirmed, no hesitation. “So shall I call them and tell them that this is now your case?”

Hoyt’s smirk had dropped long ago and the scowl was back in place. She considered you for a moment and then stuck her nose up in the air, downright glaring at you. But she didn’t say a word.

The sheriff took note of yours and Hoyt’s standoff as well as Jack’s anxious expression, then cleared his throat. “Like I said before, we’ll leave you to it.”

You nodded curtly, more than satisfied at the turn of events, and glanced back at Jack. “Call Anderson and update him. We’re looking at another one.”

He gave you a somber nod and moved away to do just that.

You couldn’t resist turning back to Hoyt with a syrupy sweet smile. “Like I said before, a pleasure.” Your smile faded and your eyes burned into hers as you spun on your heel to walk away, knowing that was the end of that little dick measuring contest and who had won. As entertaining as it had all been, you had work to do.

“Hold up a sec,” the man next to her called out.

You took a deep breath and turned, seeing Hoyt and Sheriff Arlen exchanging a glance. The latter locked eyes with you and put his hands on his hips. “You said it was another one. Just how many victims have you had show up with this MO?”

Hoyt arched her brows expectantly at you, waiting for you to answer.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss any ongoing investigations in the Helena Police Department. If you have any questions, you can direct them to my captain. Jack can give you the number.” You then walked away, heading back to the car, more than eager to take a minute for yourself and collect your thoughts under the guise of needing to make a call. You couldn’t believe you and Jack had yet another victim on your hands this soon. The guy you were after didn’t appear to be slowing down at all; if anything, he was picking up his pace, and that worried you.

It shouldn’t have surprised you when the sheriff was suddenly next to you, matching your stride. “Bureaucratic bullshit aside, I need to know, are we dealing with something nasty here?”

“Nastier than someone brutally torturing and killing another person, then dumping the body somewhere she’s sure to be found so another person can be terrorized?”

“Good point. But you know what I mean. I saw you and Dorsey back there, I know there’s something you’re not saying. Are we talking about a serial killer or something else?” He shook his head when you didn’t answer him. “Come on, Detective Y/L/N, tell me what we’re dealing with here.”

You let out a breath and stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “It’s Darcy. And we are not talking about anything or dealing with anything together. As I said, if you have any questions, you can direct them to—”

“Your Captain, yeah, I got it.” He took a deep breath and his hands were back on his belt, green eyes pleading with you though there was a sharp edge to them. “Listen, if there’s something serious going on in my county, I need to know about it. If the shoe was on the other foot, we’d give you the professional courtesy, you know that.” You had to admit that he had a point, though you weren’t exactly sure how he didn’t already know about the growing threat, from local media coverage to small town folks talking. You may have oversold State’s involvement earlier to get Hoyt off of your backs so you could continue to do your jobs without further interference, but nothing could be further from the truth. Captain Anderson as well as the Chief were doing everything they could to keep things tight and close to the vest. A serial killer on the loose in this area wasn’t exactly unheard of; there had been the Bleeding Heart killer that evaded capture for years until recently. However, your bosses were under the strict impression that people didn’t need to worry about another potential problem, possibly breaking through the front doors of their homes, or abducting and killing their neighbors quite so soon. It would look like they couldn’t get a handle on their city, people would be too scared to leave their homes, people would stop coming through here, and Helena would become known as a haven for serial killers. At least that’s all of the bullshit reasoning you’d heard so far.

You personally disagreed with it all; you had learned first hand back in New York how valuable it could be to the investigation to keep the local population on alert, and how it might help reduce the number of victims. It could even provide a break in the case. Out here, in a close knit community such as this one, well, public awareness was not always viewed the same way hence all the bullshit justifications in keeping it quiet. At least as far as you had seen with this particular string of murders, anyway.

But even with your bosses working hard to keep a lid on things, how had this sheriff or his department not somehow become aware of what was going on right under their very noses?

Your gaze flickered back to the scene, seeing Jack talking with Hoyt, most likely in the same position you were in since the sheriff duo obviously decided to try to divide and conquer, before it landed back on the man in front of you. Seeing the concern layering his brow, his expression determined, you decided the hell with it. You’d made the case to Anderson more than once for things to go public, to lean on State more, to compare notes with other law enforcement such as the Sheriff’s Department to see if there were any other patterns or victims you were unaware of, missing or dead, or maybe even reported attempts at abduction or someone seeing something strange that could help turn the tide. Yet each time, you’d been denied and politely warned to keep your mouth shut, your head down, and to focus on your job. Well, you were already thinking of a change; what could it hurt to let this earnest looking sheriff know what was really going on? Perhaps he’d even do something with the limited information you could give him and jurisdiction squabbles aside, would it really be so bad to have another pair of eyes on the lookout for the same things you were? You didn’t think so. “Bureaucratic bullshit aside, nothing has been officially determined yet. For this case or..any others.”

His eyes tightened. “How many are we looking at so far?”

You bit your lip and turned to look at the officers surrounding the area. “Five.”

“And she’s the sixth?”

“If it’s determined that this fits that MO, then yes.”

“Based on your previous cases, does it?”

You gave him a look, staying silent. He knew you couldn’t answer that outright.

The sheriff let out a sigh and dropped his gaze to the ground. “Span of time?”

“Four in the last four months.” His head snapped up, his mouth hanging open. “That’s since I’ve been here. One was found right before I showed up.”

He nodded and glanced back towards the scene. “Goddamn,” he said under his breath. After a moment, he turned back to you. His features started to relax slightly and the beginning of a smile began to form on his lips. “So, that’s why I haven’t seen you around before. I was wondering. Four months, huh? How’re you liking it so far?”

You glanced back in the direction of the body. “Seriously considering a change of address,” you muttered. “Maybe something tropical. People seem happier near beaches. I’m thinking it’s gotta be the sand, bikinis, and free-flowing booze. That or people are just too exhausted from being in the sun all day. I think that’d suit me just fine.”

A warm laugh escaped him as his bright smile graced you, reaching up to his eyes this time. It made you nearly smile in response, it was that infectious. He was certainly attractive and he had the whole sexy cowboy sheriff vibe working for him, complete with hat. For a split second, you wondered what could have happened had you met him at one of the local bars some night where your introduction to one another would have been vastly different. You tried to picture yourself line dancing at some country bar he might frequent but couldn’t. You’d tried it once but never really cared for it. You were more of a swayer and every so often (with a certain amount of liquid courage or lust coursing through your veins) a grinder. Instead, you might have grabbed his hat off of his head to get his attention and plopped it on yours, uttering the cheesy line of “Save a horse, ride a cowboy” or something to keep his focus squarely on you for the rest of the night. Before you could get too carried away in your thoughts, seeing an officer moving past you reminded you of why you were here. You needed to concentrate and get your head back into the game.

“Oh, come on,” he urged, thankfully completely oblivious to what you had been thinking. “It’s only been four months! It took me at least six to settle in when I moved up here. You’ve got to give it at least that. I do copy you on the beaches thing, though. Definitely a slower pace.”

“Right? Though it’s gotta be a real pain in the ass to collect evidence in between tourists and the saltwater. You know what? Maybe I should just change careers. I’ll become a lifeguard. Bring some Baywatch to the Bahamas.” Oh no, that sounded flirty, hadn’t it? You hadn’t meant for it to sound flirty.

His eyes lit up slightly but his amiable smile stayed the same. “I have no doubt in my mind you could.”

You nearly smirked but forced yourself to look disappointed. “But then again, there are sharks in the Bahamas, so maybe my Baywatch lifeguard audition will have to wait until, say, never.”

“Well, that’s a crying shame. Just when I thought I’d finally make the plane ride to the Bahamas.” His voice had dipped in register and his gaze burned into you, making you almost shiver. It was very obvious what he was thinking and you were thankful you were surrounded by several officers, your partner included, because there was no telling what you’d do if it was just the two of you and he looked at you like that. You had a very good idea of what he’d do and you found that you didn’t mind all that much, if you two weren’t on the job and he wasn’t already involved with someone else.

You forced yourself to focus, holding a hand up. “Alright, slow your roll there, Hasselhoff. You want to swim with the sharks, you go right ahead. Me? I’m staying on dry land, thank you very much.” He laughed again and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms, thankful that you had been able to change the course of that conversation. “So, six months, huh? From Texas I take it?”

His smile got brighter if that were even possible. “The accent that obvious?”

“The accent, the hat, the whole cowboy vibe you’ve got going on.” You gestured to him with a hand.

“You got something against cowboys?” He teased.

“Nope. It’s just that we don’t see too many of those in the Big Apple.”

“New York, huh? Should’ve known. You’ve got the whole SVU vibe working for you.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again. Like you hadn’t heard that one before. “Not every female detective from Manhattan is named Olivia Benson and not all of us work out of SVU.”

He held his hands up, still smiling. “I didn’t mean anything by it, darlin’.” At your raised brows, he chuckled. “Just a friendly term where I come from. I didn’t mean anything by that either.”

“Uh huh.” You spun on your heel and continued your trek to the car, nodding your thanks at the officer who lifted the crime scene tape for you to pass under. The sheriff continued to dog your steps which made you smile discreetly.

“So, tell me, how do people on that tiny island live all squished together like that?” He wondered.

“I don’t know, one and a half million people somehow manage to figure it out every day.”

“One and a half million? Son of a bitch.” You had just reached the vehicle when he turned to you. “Who am I kidding? I come from Houston and we have even more people there. Except we’re spread out and have more room to roam.” He chuckled, expecting you to find that as funny as he did.

You gave him a polite smile and opened your door, waiting. “Was there anything else you needed, Sheriff?”

“Please, call me Beau. And yeah, there was one more thing.” You arched a brow up at him and his grin melted into a different smile altogether, making something flip inside your stomach. Uh oh. You were back in that murky territory from a moment ago. “I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner.”

Your gaze snapped to where Jack was currently talking on his phone. Hoyt wasn’t too far from him, watching your every move, you swung your head back to find the sheriff staring at you expectantly, the same smile from before sitting on his bearded face. You decided not to beat around the bush. “I was under the impression that you were…otherwise engaged.”

His brows began to furrow in confusion. “How do you mean?”

You inclined your head back in Hoyt’s direction. He quickly glanced over and then back to you. “What, Hoyt? No, we’re just partners. She’s my undersheriff and a friend, nothing more.” You shot him a look and he laughed. “I’m serious, there’s nothing going on. I’m free as a bird. So, how about that date?”

You bit your lip in thought, trying to think of the best way to politely turn him down. You really, really wanted to accept, to see where this might go, even if it was just a one time thing, but the way Hoyt was eyeing him and you right now, there was bound to be trouble there, even if it was only a simple dinner between you and the cowboy. Which, as Beau had said before, was a crying shame. He seemed nice enough but you really couldn’t afford to make waves, not if you planned to secure another transfer after such a short stint up here. You would have to politely decline his invitation. “I’m probably going to be working late, especially with this new case. Thank you for the offer, though.”

He tilted his head, smiling wider at you. “Come on, you gotta eat sometime. Besides, what kind of sheriff would I be if I didn’t show a newcomer such as yourself some of the great things Helena has to offer? Like the steakhouse I’d like to take you to. They have the best ribeye in the whole county, hand to God.”

You could see that he expected that to do the trick. So, you turned the tables on him. You closed the door and crossed your arms. “Texas, didn’t you already pump me for information about this case? I gave you what I could. There’s nothing else I can give you.”

His eyes flashed at your last statement. Uh oh. “I doubt that’s true but be that as it may, I’m not asking you to dinner to talk about work. As a matter of fact, I have a strict policy during dinner: no work-talk. So, what do you say, darlin’? Let me take you out?”

You glared up at him. “Will you drop the darlin’?”

“If you really want me to,” he agreed.

“I really want you to.”

“Consider it done. May I call you by your first name then?”

“I’d prefer it to darlin’.”

“Alright. Y/N. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’ll pick you up at your place, say around…7?”

Shit, were you really going to do this? You could not afford to make waves. There wasn’t really anything stopping you. You two worked for different departments, precincts even. He wasn’t your superior and while he outranked you, you weren’t working with him. He had addressed the Hoyt issue head on, assuring you they weren’t involved. You two were grown adults, able to just have a nice meal together. Besides, you hadn’t had a good steak in a while and what could it hurt? Although, you couldn’t have him come to your house because you were pretty sure you’d never make it past the porch, not with the way he had been eyeing you up earlier, not with how often your thoughts headed in that direction.

You noticed him lick his lips as he waited for your answer. It easily could have been a nervous tic, thinking you’d might turn him down, but your brain zoned in on the action. His smile was warm, infectious, and you hadn’t terribly minded your little banter before. You could probably have a somewhat decent time and get along fairly well. Before you knew it, you were agreeing to let him take you to dinner. “Make it 7:30, outside the precinct. I’ll be done around then.”

When he grinned happily, you felt that same flip-type feeling from earlier. Maybe dinner with someone other than Jack and something other than takeout on the fly wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like you were promising the man anything other than a meal filled with conversation. And he had been right, you could eat, though you’d never admit it to him. It’s not like you were jumping right into bed with him…hence why you asked him to pick you up at the precinct.

“7:30 it is. I’ll see you then, Y/N.” He flashed you another smile and turned to walk away.

“See you then, Texas.”

He tipped his hat in your direction, his eyes taking forever to leave you, and headed back over to the scowling blonde. Figures — the first guy to officially ask you out since your move here would be within the vicinity of a crime scene, not to mention the whole little flirtation moment. That was just your luck, wasn’t it? A part of you even wondered if you were normal for accepting his offer at said scene, not knowing a thing about him or once thinking it odd that he chose this to be his moment after seeing a dead woman who had been stabbed repeatedly by some sick bastard.

You shook your head, unsure of what the hell you had just gotten yourself into, thinking your whole life was a weird mess, so what was one more strange thing? You sat inside the passenger seat of the car, laying your head back against the headrest as thoughts of this case ran through your mind.

Another one. How the hell was that even possible? There were now six victims with the same MO. Knife to the chest, ending in the heart, after their throat had been slashed but before they completely bled out. And this was after they’d been tortured for hours, days even, where they’d been repeatedly strangled to the point of unconsciousness and then brought back so more horrors and pain could be inflicted on them. It reminded you of a series of homicides you’d worked back in Manhattan, with an eerily similar MO; the difference was that those victims were sexually assaulted, asphyxiated with a plastic bag over their heads repeatedly, and their bodies were dropped off at different anchor points, not some random location where the body was guaranteed to be discovered within a short amount of time and it would put the killer at risk to be easily spotted by passersby or security cameras. Not to mention, you had closed the Manhattan case; the bastard was still sitting in jail — you’d checked.

You slipped your necklace from underneath your shirt and began to move the pendant back and forth as you thought it over some more. The victims here in Montana matched one description: a woman in her mid to late 30’s, usually turned out to be single or at the least casually dating, nothing serious. She always had Y/H/C hair, working hard in her chosen career or job, and she appeared to have been a decent dresser while doing the upkeep required for her fingernails and toenails. That was really what prompted your hunch about the pedicure that you couldn’t tell Hoyt, and let’s face it, wouldn’t tell her unless you were forced to. The territorial blonde had definitely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

But the New York victims had been women of various sizes, races, ages, and stations in life. One was a sex worker, one was a single mom, one was a lawyer from the Upper East side, one had been a late teen fresh out of high school… You closed your eyes in pain, gripping your pendant tightly. That had been one of your toughest cases to date. You didn’t like to think about it but that had been the one to light a fire deep within you to do whatever it took to hunt down the sick bastard who had done that to her. You worked tirelessly with your partner, trying to fit the pieces together, and run down the very little clues you had. In the end, it had all paid off. You made sure you were present that day in court for that son of a bitch’s sentencing.

You opened your eyes and thought back to your current case. Every detail of this scene fit the details of previous scenes to a tee, minus the location where the body had been dumped. But the why of the dumping seemed to fit into a pattern. Something kept prodding at you, pulling at your instincts. Something was off here. You knew you were dealing with a serial but something kept pushing at you about Manhattan… It had to be the similarities. It was only natural for you to recall your experience when you saw similar MO’s in trying to figure out who was behind the killing and what their motivation was. Yes, that was it.

You were interrupted in your reverie by your cell phone ringing. You answered it on the first ring. “Yeah?”

“I need you up here,” Jack requested.

“On my way.” You hung up and took a deep breath, slipping your necklace back under your shirt, and stepped out of the car, intent on heading back up to where your partner was. You both needed to figure this out and fast. You knew this woman was about to be added to the list of murder victims that had been the work of a serial you were currently tracking down, and based on how frequently he was doing this, he was only just getting started.

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #big sky fanfiction #beau arlen #beau x reader #beau x female reader #beau x you #beau x y/n #beau arlen fanfiction #the ghosts are coming for you chapter 1 #thebiggerbear

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winchestergirl2 · 2 months

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February Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs | 2024 Reading Recs

Walker

Cordell Walker

Quieting the Demons Inside @idreamofplaid

Authors Summary: Cordell opens up to the reader, and his vulnerability takes their relationship to the next level.

Privacy @idreamofplaid

Authors Summary: Cordell is a passionate man, but he’s a dad too. It doesn’t mean he has to choose between the two.

Texas Nights @stefanmikaleson1864

Dawsons Creek

CJ Braxton

Something Like This @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: A Nor'easter hits Boston and luckily for you, you don't have anywhere you need to be except right here snuggled up with CJ.

My Bloody Valentine

Tom Hanniger

Lonely Dancers @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Authors summary: when your boyfriend cheats on you, it leads you to tom hanniger

10 Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

Code Red @zepskies

Authors Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

High School Never Ends Part 1 | Part 2 | @illshakeyouallnightlong-dean

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Hollow @thoughtslikeaminefield

Authors Summary: @winchesterxfamilybusiness submitted this prompt to @cabin-fever-bang “Would anyone be willing to write something with Dean [or Jensen] x reader to the song Love on the Brain by Rihanna -xx”

Fire & Rain Masterlist @writercole

Authors Summary: When a fire destroys her place to live, Y/N and her daughter Lana are left with nowhere to go and no one to count on, except the kindness of a beautiful, green-eyed firefighter that saved their lives. Will the pair of them make it through the obstacles life has dealt them or will they crash and burn?

Just Another Day @1000roughdrafts

Authors Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Don't Forget It @hintsofhoney

Authors Summary: While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to.

Sam Winchester

You're On Your Own Kid Part 1 @my-proof-is-you

Authors Summary: You’re used to being on your own. You’d been on your own as long as you could remember. Could Sam show you that it isn’t the only way to live?

Untitled Sam Winchester Fic @supernaturalfreewill

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Febuwhump Day 10 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Febuwhump Day 14 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Febuwhump Day 21 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Whole Lotta Love @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: beau finds a way repays the reader after taking care of him when he’s injured, but also to apologise for worrying her. but most importantly, to prove he was okay.

The Way We Fall In Love @smellingofpoetry

Authors Summary: This is the story of how they fall in love.

The Boys

Soldier Boy

Febuwhump Day 12 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Side Effects of Soldier Boy @tom-whore-dleston

Authors Summary: Soldier Boy tries to keep you quiet during sex.

Smallville

Jason Teague

Febuwhump Day 7 @luci-in-trenchcoats

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nicksalchemy1 · 22 days

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Mientras Respiro, Espero - Part 1

Pairing: Firefighter AU Dean Winchester x Nurse!Plus-Size!Mexican!Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, a firefighter with a reputation for casual flings, finds himself longing for something more meaningful in his life. Meanwhile, you, a stubborn surgical intern, are trying to escape your past in California. When Dean loses a bet and is tasked with cleaning the trucks, your paths cross unexpectedly. Little do both of you know meeting each other would cause some problems.

A/N: “Mientras Respiro, Espero”: Spanish for “while I breathe, I wait.”

Here’s the first part of my little story. I really like writing in this universe and if part goes well, then I’ll continue posting. (I’m gonna post it anyways 🧐) Credits for inspiration again go to @zepskies !!

🚒 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2,167

Warnings: Toxic parental situation, mentions of fat-shaming, childhood trauma, and a quick old-fashioned meet cute.

Part 1 - Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Avalon, California, was a gilded cage with ocean views, where the houses were as polished as the facades people wore. It was in one such manicured home where your story paused.

“Mija, you’re wasting your life with these... these dreams of yours! ¡No seas tan estúpida!” Your mother’s voice was a razor wrapped in velvet, cutting into you as you packed the last of your belongings into an old, battered suitcase.

The room was a mausoleum of your former life, with its pristine walls adorned with academic accolades and a full-length mirror that once reflected a girl desperate to please. Now, it only mirrored your resolve.

“I’m saving it, not wasting it,” you shot back, the words tumbling from your lips like brave soldiers in battle. You tucked a framed photo of your childhood self – the one with the broadest, most hopeful eyes – into the suitcase's side.

Your mother’s silhouette filled the doorway, her arms crossed in the silent indictment. “And what about the family reputation? Our standing in the community?”

You zipped up the suitcase, and the sound of a definitive line drawn. “What about my happiness, Mamí? What about living a life that’s actually mine? With someone who won’t pick on me like I’m still a child?”

She scoffed dismissively, a sound that stung like salt in an open wound. “Esos gringos no saben nada. Happiness is a luxury for those who can afford to be foolish.”

You locked eyes with her in the mirror, your own gaze hardened like forged steel. “Then consider me a fool.”

The house seemed to hold its breath as you shouldered past her, suitcase in hand. Your father stood in the hallway, a silent sentinel. His eyes, a mirror of your own, flickered with something that might have been pride or sorrow – or both.

“Daddy,” you whispered, pausing for a moment.

He cleared his throat, a rumble from deep within. “You always were the stubborn one,” he murmured, his voice barely above a soft-spoken whisper. “Be careful. Call me anytime you need me.”

A nod was all you could muster before you descended the staircase, each step a drumbeat to your newfound freedom. The door closed behind you with a finality that echoed through your bones. The California sun dipped low, as if bowing to your courage.

The suitcase wheels rumbled against the cobblestone path, a small but sure declaration of your departure. Behind you, the house – a beautiful prison of expectation and familial duty – faded into just another part of the landscape.

You didn't look back.

Considering it was your first time flying in an airplane, first class at that, you were anxious. Not about actually being in the plane around people or the way the lady in the seat across from your aisle coffee smelled like someone took a fancy shit, but because you were moving in with a couple that you trusted yet, hardly knew.

Mary and John Winchester were rough around the edges, but they meant well. They knew what happened in your household, how toxic it was, and invited you to stay with them in Lawerence. Plus, you would be able to keep your job. Mary was head of Neurosurgery and earned you a spot as a surgical intern. Working hard or hardly working, am I right? You thought to yourself, smiling to yourself.

And boy, were these ‘gringos’ rich. Not only did they offer you that extra guest room in their house, but they also bought you your first-class seat, in which your butt was in right now.

You knew John was a respected detective, and with his income mixed with Mary’s, they made bank.

You also knew they had two sons. John and Mary mentioned their names, but you knew the youngest worked for the ADA, and the oldest worked as a firefighter.

Cool. Wonder what that's like, you tilt your head in thought.

A stable work life, home life, and family. But not all ‘picture-perfect’ families meant they were truly picture perfect.

And that was for you to figure out.

The airplane descended through the cotton candy clouds, and the world below began to take shape—a patchwork of fields and roads that would soon become your new reality. Your heart danced a nervous tango with the seatbelt across your lap, anticipation tightening with every drop in altitude.

The captain's voice crackled through the cabin, announcing the imminent landing in Lawrence. You straightened up, smoothing the fabric of your jeans as if to iron out the last creases of your past life.

When the wheels kissed the tarmac, you felt a jolt, not unlike the one that had propelled you out of your family’s house. You collected your single suitcase from the overhead bin—a symbol of your fresh start—and made your way through the aisle with a resolve that echoed the click-clack of your boots on the aircraft's floor.

The airport was small but buzzing with life, a hive of reunions and farewells. You stood for a moment at the arrival gate, scanning the crowd until you saw them.

Mary's presence was undeniable. She stood with a grace that spoke of her surgical precision, her eyes warm and welcoming. John, equally imposing in his own right, had the stance of a man who had weathered storms and could chart a course through any adversity.

They spotted you almost immediately, and Mary’s smile widened as she opened her arms. “There she is! Welcome to Kansas!”

You stepped into her embrace, the scent of antiseptic mingling with a soft perfume—a stark contrast to the oppressive aroma of your mother's overwhelming floral scents. “Thank you, Mary,” you smiled, grateful for the genuine warmth.

John extended his hand, which you shook firmly, finding in his grip the silent support of a seasoned detective. “Good to have you here. We’ve got the guest room all set up for you,” he said, his voice a deep timbre of reassurance.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. “I can’t thank you both enough for this opportunity.”

As you walked through the airport, with Mary’s hand lightly on your back and John carrying your suitcase, you felt the weight of your old life lifting. The conversation was light, peppered with Mary’s questions about your flight and John’s quips about Kansas being the true heart of America.

Once in the car, the grilling starts. “So, how are you doing, hun?” Mary asks curiously, mainly because she’s concerned and trying to make sure you’re comfortable.

“Oh, you know, as good as you can be while moving state from state.” You remark as politely as possible, trying not to seep tension into the car ride.

“I hope you feel better. When we get to the house, you’re welcome to rest. I don’t cook very well,” She clears her throat, shrugging, “But I can give you some money to order something in?”

“I couldn’t do that, but thank you. It’s late, anyways. I’ll wait till tommorow morning.”

“Okay. Just as along as you’re comfortable.” Mary winks, a soft, motherly smile on her face.

You nod, meeting her smile with the same.

John pulls the Volkswagen van into the driveway and puts it in park, shutting the engine off. “Home sweet home.”

You sigh and step out of the car, staring at the home. The house is a two-story structure with a prominent green exterior. It features white trim around the windows and roof edges, contrasting nicely with the green. The front door is wooden with a rich, warm tone. There are two windows on the upper floor and one window on either side of the front door on the ground floor. A chimney extends from the left side of the roof, indicating a fireplace inside.

A well-maintained lawn adorned with various small plants and flowers. A concrete pathway leads to three steps up to a small porch area before reaching the wooden front door.

Mary leads you up to where your room is at and it seemed to be one of her boy’s old nurseries, but now the wall was decorated with two old band posters, The Beatles and a Zeppelin poster. Huh. The bed had a floral blanket and a navy sheet under it. There were two pillows in a white silk covers and a lamp on the beside table.

“John and I are gonna hit the hay, so, goodnight, love.” Mary waves from the doorframe, giving you one last glance before heading off.

“Goodnight,” You reply, setting your suitcase down beside your bed and lay back on your bed.

In the locker room, you changed into your scrubs, the fabric feeling foreign yet exciting against your skin. You tucked your hair under a surgical cap and checked yourself in the mirror. Ready.

The hospital corridors were a maze of activity, doctors and nurses moving with a sense of urgency that was almost palpable. You found your way to the intern's lounge, where a group of young doctors was gathered, pouring over patient charts and sipping on coffee as if it were a lifeline.

That's when you met her — Charlie Bradbury. With her vibrant red hair and a stack of comic books under her arm, she was a splash of color in the sterile environment. She noticed you immediately, her green eyes lighting up with an impish sparkle.

"Hey, you must be the new kid! I'm Charlie, your friendly neighborhood genius slash intern. Welcome to the chaos!" she greeted you with an outstretched hand, adorned with quirky rings.

"Thanks, I'm..." you began.

"Don't tell me," she interrupted playfully, "You're the one who just flew in from Cali, right? Mary's been raving about you."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Guilty as charged."

Charlie showed you around, her chatter filling the spaces between the bustle of the hospital. She introduced you to the other interns, the nurses, and even the grumpy guy who ran the coffee cart. Throughout the day, you shadowed her as she confidently navigated patient care, inserting IV lines with precision and calming anxious patients with her quirky humor.

Despite the exhaustion that came with the endless rounds and the mountain of new information, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You were doing this, really doing it — and you were not alone.

In the afternoon, Mary tasked you with delivering first aid kits to the local fire department as part of a community outreach program. You welcomed the break from the hospital walls and made your way to the fire station with a box of supplies in tow.

As you approached, you noticed a firefighter washing a large, red truck — his sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular arms, and his focus never wavering from the task at hand. You hesitated for a moment before approaching.

"Excuse me," you called out, "I have a delivery from Lawrence General?"

He turned around, and you were met with striking green eyes and a smudge of soap on his cheek. He was ruggedly handsome, with a stubble that spoke of long hours and a jaw set with determination.

"Oh, hey," he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thanks for the-"

Before he could finish, another firefighter called out to him, "Dean, we need you!"

"Sorry, duty calls," he said with a charming, apologetic grin. "Just leave the kits by the door, and thanks again."

"No problem," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as the moment ended too quickly. You placed the box down and watched as he jogged back to his colleagues, ready to respond to the next emergency.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur, and before you knew it, Mary was driving you back to the Winchester home. As the car hummed along the road, she glanced at you with a knowing smile.

"I hope your first day wasn't too overwhelming. You did great," she said encouragingly.

"It was definitely a day to remember," you admitted with a tired smile.

Mary's expression turned warm and excited as she announced, "Well, get ready for a family dinner tonight. John and I want you to meet our sons properly. They're excited to have you."

The thought of the evening ahead sparked a mix of nerves and curiosity within you.

"Oh, uh, okay." you replied slightly indifferent by the unexpected dinner, but the prospect of a meal with a family that wouldn’t make measure how many calories your plate has won’t be bad just because you had to meet your “landlord’s” sons. “Sounds nice.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

And there’s that! Next time. 😉

Character Introduction For This Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #latina!reader #plus size!reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x reader #spn #firefighter au #supernatural #fanfic #reader insert #mexican!reader #spotify

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 month

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hello! i'm sorry if this is super random, but i was wondering if you could possibly rec soem of yuor favorite spn blogs? writitng or gifs or anything related to spn?

(if this isn't okay, i do apoligize)

Hi! I'm going to do a bit of a hodge podge of recs for you!

@spnfanficpond - The SPN fanfic pond is an awesome source of TONS of blogs that write for SPN and they have multiple posts of fic recs!

@mrswhozeewhatsis - Look, another Michelle! Michelle has her own writing along with being an AMAZING fic recommender. She often reblogs others works and there's something there for everyone!

@supernatural-imagine-oneshot - Okay, this blog hasn't been active in a long time but the stories here are all incredible. This blog in particular is a big reason for getting me into fanfic and wanting to write it.

@supernatural-jackles - I'll happily recommend Jen's entire catalogue for your Dean and Jensen loving heart. She's not around much these days but I never read a bad fic from her and she handled writing about hard topics wonderfully.

@torn-and-frayed - Just go and do yourself a favor and read Steph's series Send The Pain Below right now. This series was one of my first forays into reading RPF and hot damn it doesn't dissapoint.

@kittenofdoomage - Rhi is pretty much on AO3 now but you can get to her stuff there. This is where I discovered ABO and fell in love! Iron Heart made my apocalyptic story loving heart so very happy and still does!

@campingmonkey - Elaina writes for not only multiple fandoms including SPN but she makes gifs too! Single handedly has saved me when I'm looking for the perfect gif but can't find it in existence. She's got another blog too @acklesmallville for all your Jason Teague needs!

@beaujensen - Because we all need more gifs of Beau Arlen in our lives

@justjensenanddean - The reason I get distracted on my timeline and forget to write sometimes lol. They got gifs, pics, keep up to date with news, cons, etc. and reblog other Jensen stuff too so yeah, this is one of my favorite blogs.

@zepskies - Zep is my new addiction. There's SPN stuff along with other shows Jensen's been in like The Boys and Big Sky. She does canon, she does AU and her writing is just damn good (aka this is the kind of writer that makes me want to step up my game). And I love how responsive she is to literally every comment, reblog, ask, etc. She sets the bar high for the rest of us!

I hope that gives you some good stuff to dig into!

#blog recs

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zepskies · 4 months

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Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

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