#deanfluff

note: hello there! welcome to a new series! we are finally entering a new universe, supernatural. i've been missing my winchester boys! it’s time to bring them back for some fun! please let me know what you think! i'm hoping to make this a series! ps - sorry it’s so long for a first part! i hope you find it worth it!

—- x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x —-

“Hey! We’re behind. We got tickets on the board,” you say as you walk down toward the kitchen. “Heard,” you hear from your cooks. You turn the corner to get behind the line. Quickly grabbing the next ticket, you help your workers get the food out. “James, my burger’s almost up. Can you grab me some fries?” you say pointing towards him. He replies with a quick nod. “Aye, Annie, table 42′s about to start bitchin’. Let’s get those poppers out,” you share, tapping her on the back. “Echo,” Annie says with a smile. “Y/n! We got a Karen up by 9. Can you help out?” Brandy asks, coming from the front. “Annie, James. Y’all got it back here?” you ask, continuing to flip the burgers and getting them set with their sides. “Yeah, we got it,” James says. You nod and walk out towards the front. 

Landing your eyes on table 9, you see that classic “Karen” hairstyle with her dopey husband across from her. With a sigh, you head towards her. “Hello there! Brandy shared you wanted to speak with me?” you ask, fully prepared for whatever bullshit comes your way. “Yeah, this salad has tomatoes on it. I was very specific when I said that I don’t want tomatoes,” she says with a stern, condescending tone. “Great! So I’ll go ahead and get the chopped salad without tomatoes,” you say with that clear fake customer service voice. You take the plate from in front of her. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” The woman scoffs, “Yeah, you can take this off our bill.” 

Your eyebrows raise in response to her audacity. “So, you don’t want the salad anymore?” you ask. The woman shakes her head. “What are you stupid? Yes, I want my salad,” she screamed. You laugh as you place her plate back onto the table. “You can’t have both, honey,” you say with a stern whisper. You lean your hands onto the table. “Do you want to eat the salad that you’re going to pay for, or do you want nothing, ma’am?” The woman gasps, as though you stabbed her with a fork from her plate. She nods, hiking up a side of her top lip. “One salad with no tomatoes coming right up,” you smile. 

As you walk by your other tables, you hear laughter and someone say, “Nice! I love dinner and a show.” You stop and turn to him. You are prepared to give him the highest level of sass for the day. That’s what they should expect coming in to your diner. As soon as your eyes reach him, your face deadpans. This man looked like a god damned angel. His jaw chiseled and enough to make a grown woman cry. His eyes so damn green the whole world could have stopped but you would have never known. His hair gelled up, but in a way that it still looks so natural and amazing to push your hand through. His shirt as green as his eyes. His eyes that are looking right back into yours. Your heart races and you try to calm yourself with some shaky breaths. “How’s your food?” you ask attempting to fill the space. 

“I’m not complaining,” he says as he takes a huge bite of his burger. You smile, suddenly having worried thoughts if you had anything in your teeth or if your smile was too big. Turning towards his companion, you notice a much taller gentleman. Just as beautiful, but with darker and longer locks. His eyes just as green. His face more sweet and welcoming, as opposed to drop dead gorgeous like the first one. “How about you?” you ask. He smiles, “It’s great. Thank you.” He pushes around the vegetables within his salad. You smile in response, giving the male model a special wink as you walk away. A smirk resting on his face. 

“Brandy, you did not tell me about the male gods at fucking 13!” you say as you land your elbows onto the expo counter. Your heart thumping in your chest. “Oh my god, I know,” she says, meeting you on the counter. “The guy with the short hair already has my number. I will definitely be seeing him later,” she says fanning herself with her receipt pad. “Oo, he’s the one I was looking at too,” you say with a giggle. “Get him, girl.” You look back through the expo window to take one last look at them. The tall one pulled out a laptop and they seemed to now be in a more serious conversation. No matter how serious the discussion must be, the other one is deadly focused on his burger. A man after your own heart. 

-xox-

Finally it’s time to close up shop. You have been counting down the minutes. Two in the morning - absolutely disgusting. The crew is finishing up their closing duties, as you count the money from the registers. “Brandy, I have your tips,” you say, waving her money in the air. She walks by, grabbing the cash as she passes. “Thank you!” You turn towards Annie and James, “Y’all are good to go too! I’ll finish up.” Annie makes a confused face and asks, “Are you sure, y/n?” You laugh as you wipe off the front counter. “All good. Head out before I change my mind,” you chuckle. They all rapidly grab their things. The front door’s bell ringing nonstop as they all rush off into the night. You’re left completely alone in the diner. Exactly how and where you’d like to be. 

A little more cleaning and you’ll be on your way. But first, some rock. You turn on your headphones and place them carefully into your ears. With a simple hit of the play button, your ear buds flood “Crazy Train.” Pretending to play the drums on each intense beat, you begin to walk over to the back to retrieve your broom. You grab onto it, using it like a fake electric guitar as you play your heart out to the song’s devilish riff. You feel the rush as you yell out the lyrics. You wouldn’t have to worry about anyone hearing you, seeing as your diner is at least 5 miles away from the closest civilization. 

As you continue to sweep out any food left under the tables, you hear the front door bell ring. That unbelievable piercing ring that you unfortunately hear through even the most noise cancelling of headphones. “Hey, we’re closed,” you say as you raise from the table and pull a bud out of your ear. You look  towards the front door and see it swinging but no one in sight. “Hello?” you say with higher volume, your eyebrows raised. The silence is deafening. Even the air felt unbelievably still and quiet. The hair on your arms begin to raise. You feel goose bumps travel up your back. Every part of your body screaming for you to run out and leave without even seeing anything tangible.

You take a deep breath. Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other. As you slowly back yourself towards a wall, a shadow began to take shape in front of you. A man. Your grasp on the broom tighter than before. “Get the fuck out of here,” you say sternly and powerfully. You approach this unfortunate situation as though he were a bear. Making yourself larger, able to put up more of a fight, and then hope he gets scared off. The shadow moves closer to you. Instinctually, you bring the broom across your body - ready to swing if needed. But god, you hope you wouldn’t need to do that. “I got 9-1-1 already on the way. They should be here any fucking minute!” You scream loudly, knowing full well that your phone is on the front counter. As the body continues to slowly move to you, the moonlight shines perfectly against its teeth. It’s incredibly long, sharp teeth.

With that sight, you drop the broom and run towards the back. You hear tables being pushed around and growling as you rush towards the back door. Adrenaline pumping throughout your body. You’re terrified, but your body pushes you to keep moving. The shadow jumps over the counter in an attempt to lessen the distance between you two. With one swing, you feel claws rip through your lower back. Pain shoots up your spine. Your legs unfortunately buckle at the sudden red hot sensation.

You land right onto your face. Your hands taking most of the beating, but your forehead having taken quite the smack onto the kitchen floor. Dizzily, you attempt to raise your head - looking for any potential weapon that could help you defend yourself. Very slowly, you feel the shadow’s body straddle yours. Biting deeply into your lip, you try to hold back your whimpers. This is it. You’re going to die. You’re not ready. And that’s when you hear it. “I-I didn’t want to do this. I can’t s-stop. I’m so sorry, y/n,” a familiar voice whispers. With a quick hit to the back of your head, you are unconscious.

-xox-

Pulsating beats flood through your head. The pain in the base of your skull leaving you nauseous. You feel a trail of dried blood resting on your eyebrows, nose, and lip. You attempt to look around, but your eyes are too shaky and blurry. You hear, “Oh thank god, you’re okay.” A sweet, small voice shoots through your hazy vision. “Where am I?” you mumble. Your throat and lips were dry. Your voice cracked to the point where it left you in pain. Whatever hit you took, it was bad. It is incredibly difficult to hold your own at this moment. You close your eyes as to not get nauseous.

As you slightly shift your weight, you feel a deep pain in your shoulder’s joints. You realize that your arms are hanging above your head. Wrists tied together. Your toes barely grazing the floor. The rope being the only thing holding you up right now. “We’re in deep shit, but we’re going to help each other get out, okay?” a voice appears. You turn and open your eyes in the direction of the voice. It’s a girl. You don’t know her, yet your life might depend on her now. Her arms tied above her head as well. “What do we do?” you say with a whisper. You can see her moving and twisting about.

Looking around, you find yourself in a room that looks like it was made by Lincoln-Logs. A fire burning and crackling in the cornered chimney. You focus your efforts into slowing your breathing - attempting to remain calm despite this terrifying situation. “Do you see that table next to you?” the girl says, nodding towards your left. You twist your body to see the small end table. A butter knife laying atop it with other surrounding knick knacks. It is rather far from you, but you could reach it at the risk of popping your shoulder out. Hey, it’s better than dying. You nod towards the girl.

With a pointed toe, you attempt to pull the table closer to you. Your foot finally hooking around its leg. As you lean more of your weight onto your right side, the rope digs deeply into your wrist. You feel it dragging and ripping against your skin. You let out a shaky breath, pain lingering down your arm. With a bit more force, you are able to flip the table on its side with a crashing noise. Your movements now more rushed than before. “Yes, yes! Okay, now grab it!” she screams towards you. You quickly move your eyes towards her. “Be quiet. We don’t know where they are,” you whisper softly. You turn back towards the task at hand. Using your toes, you grip onto the base of the knife. “Okay, now can you lift it up or something?” she says with a whisper. You nod and attempt to raise your leg towards her. Your weight resting on just your big toe. 

As you lift your leg, attempting to get it high enough to reach the girl’s hands, your back sends deafening pains through your limbs. “Fuck!” you yell. You drop the knife harshly into the floor. Your weight quickly drops onto your joints, sending another rush of destruction throughout your body. Suddenly, you hear a door burst open behind you. The pain leaving you with an inability to move. The girl gasps and shudders in response to the shadow re-emerging.

“What are you doing?” the familiar voice shakes you to your core. You stay as still as possible, as though he won’t be able to see you. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be,” he says hesitantly. “Let me the fuck out of here, James!” the girl screams. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. Before you can stop yourself, you turn towards him. Your eyes landing on his face. You get the pleasure of having emotional pain on top of your physical. James is - was - so important to you. He’s always been there for you. He’s always had your back. He’s always supported you as you pushed your way through the glass wall at the diner. Yet here he is.

You desperately keep your eyes from his. You feel him scan your body from top to bottom. “Keep your mouth shut, June,” he says in a terrifying tone you don’t recognize. He walks towards the girl slowly, as though he was stalking her. As he walks past you, you catch a glimpse of sharp nails extending from his fingers. The sight leaves shivers up your spine. This is not normal. “Please, James. Please just let me go. Please,” she whispers. Before she’s able to say anything else, a growl erupts from him. He pulls his elbow back and thrusts it deep within her chest. 

With an audible gasp, you find yourself absolutely petrified. Your entire body begins to shake, but you cannot pull your eyes from James and June. June’s mouth gapes open, a permanent expression of shock upon her face. James growls loudly in her face as he pulls his hand back from her torso. You surprisingly were able to look down at his hand - there rests her heart. It gradually slows its beat. You remain absolutely still. You oddly don’t feel pain in your body, despite the grueling torture you’ve experienced so far. James quickly rushes the heart into his mouth. He took a bite, breathing incredibly deep with satisfaction. 

James slowly turns towards you as he takes another bite. His face completely covered in blood. His eyes a golden yellow now, despite normally having blue eyes. “Do you want some, y/n?” he says with a deep laugh. You cringe away from him as he lifts June’s heart to your face. Gritting your teeth together, you continue to place distance. Tears welling within your eyes. Your body shakes at his closeness. James quickly pulls away, his eyebrows furrowing together. As a tear falls down your cheek, he lifts his sharp claw to your face. He wipes away the drop. “I-I’m so sorry, y/n. You don’t deserve this,” he says. His entire demeanor shifting so quickly it leaves you unbalanced. You could swear that his eyes were slowly flooding with blue. 

“I’m just so hungry,” James says softly. “And there was no one else. I don’t want to do this.” You remain quiet, continuing to shake uncontrollably. He slowly takes another bite of June’s heart, maintaining eye contact. Before you could process everything, a force bursts through the window. The glass thrashes throughout the room. James drops his meal and rushes towards the window. You hear loud grunts and growls. Following the sounds, your eyes land on James fighting the tall man from the diner. You must have truly hit your head, because there is no way that this is real life. You watch as the tall man attempts to raise his gun towards James. He attempts to claw at the man. The tall man continues to throw punches while seemingly attempting to avoid James’ mouth. You begin to feel lightheaded, wanting to simply give up. 

As they continue to swing at each other, growing bloodier and bloodier by the second, you hear the door open behind you softly. Suddenly, you feel someone’s body against your back. A comforting voice says, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Without taking a beat, you fall back towards the voice. Your eyes close as you drop your guard. You could hear a snapping of the rope and sudden release of pressure on your wrists as you flail back onto their chest. With a soft grip, they quickly lift your arm around their shoulder. You try your best to keep your torso up, but it continues to prove difficult. Continually tripping over your feet, you make it through the threshold of the front door. 

You are met with a cool rush of air. The sun rising in the distance. You watch as someone supports you towards a car - an older, yet loved car. Your vision completely blurry. The comforting voice speaks again, “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to lay you down and I will be right back. We’ll get out of here soon.” It opens the backdoor of the car. Ever so gently, the man supports you in lying down on your side in the backseat. Several bangs suddenly ring through the air. The tall man must have gotten his shot. As you lean back onto the seat, you recognize the comforting voice as the male god from the diner. He rushes saying, “I’ll be right back.” As he straightens up, he pulls his own gun from his waistline and closes the car’s door.

The next few moments were small and quick blurbs of coming in and out of consciousness. You remember the male god throwing the tall one into the passenger side. He seems to be in pain, open cuts against his check. Blood staining his face and hair. The male god jumped into the driver’s seat and quickly reversed, leaving a screeching sound in the air. “Sam, Sammy! Are you good?” he says with increasing intensity. “I’m good, Dean. I’m good,” the tall one replies with evident fatigue. “Y/n, are you okay?” he says, adjusting his rearview mirror to see you. “I’m okay,” you say in a soft mumble.

You feel the car moving very quickly. “Where are we going?” you say. The two men continue to converse outside of your earshot. “Where are we going?” you say loudly. They continue to speak, unable to hear you for some reason. The lack of response leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of distrust. Opening your eyes, you see what looks like a machete underneath the passenger seat. With another surge of anxiety, you grab the blade, push yourself up despite the pain. You lift the tip of the machete against the tall one’s throat. His nostrils flared in nervousness. His hands begin to raise. The driver continuing to thrash his head between you and the road. “Where. Are. We. Going?” you ask sternly. The tall one hesitantly replies, “We’re going somewhere safe. We saved you, y/n.” “Where?!” you yell, your eyes closing due to your deteriorating energy. “Flamingo Bay Motel,” the driver spits out. Before you are able to acknowledge the answer, you loosen your grip on the machete. It falls upon the tall one’s lap, as you fall and hit your head harshly against the leather of the back seat. Another bout of unconsciousness envelops you. 

- xox - 

In and out of consciousness, you find yourself carried from the backseat and into a room. You are unsure of who is moving you. As you are laid carefully on your stomach, you feel the comfort of a slightly softer surface - compared to the car’s seats. The side of your face gently placed onto a pillow. You find yourself back into a state of sleep. In another string of regained consciousness, you hear voices above you. “Dean, we gotta do something about her wounds. Her back is scratched to hell,” the first voice says. You feel the sensation of someone touching the bottom of your shirt. Slowly, they lift your shirt. You involuntarily wince at the pain as the clothing sticks do your back, drenched in dried and fresh blood. “It’s going to be okay, y/n,” a lower toned voice calls out. “Okay, we’re going to need more bandages and antibiotics. Go grab those and I'll start on the stitches.” The first voice agrees as you hear a rush of movements out the door. Another calming “you’re okay” leads you into another fog of unconsciousness. 

You awake to a sudden cold touch on your back. Hands begin to push a piece of fabric onto your lower back. Your eyelids slowly open and land onto the male god’s face. Part of you is excited to see him. The other part terrified seeing as you don’t yet know his role in this trauma. Following his gaze, you realize he is staring at your ass. Your eyebrows furrow in a mixture of bewilderment, disappointment, and shock. The slight movement of your face draws his sight towards you. His eyes widen, deep green irises full of shock. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, blood flushing towards his cheeks. “What?” another voice replies behind you. “Oh, nothing,” the man says, sinking his chin towards his chest. As your eyes slowly close again, you notice the sky darkening beyond the window’s curtains. 

With a groan, you lift your head from the pillow. You feel as though you were hit by an 18-wheeler. Moving your hands by your pillow, you raise your torso off of the bed. As your lower back arches, you feel an intense agony spread through your back. You yelp at the sensation and drop your body down. A quiet voice says, “Oh, oh, oh. Don’t try to move, y/n. Let me help you.” You feel a comforting hand press against your upper back, supporting you as you attempt to lift from your side. You slowly swing your legs around the edge of the bed. 

Looking up, you recognize the tall man. A new bloodied bandage across his cheek. The remaining blood cleaned from his face. “I’m going to ask you some quick questions, okay? What’s your name?” he says calmly. With a mumble, you reply, “Y/n.” He laughs nervously, elated at your response. “Okay, and do you know where you are?” Your head feels like it’s about to explode. You have never felt this intensity from a migraine. Squinting as you raise your eyes towards his, you say, “Flamingo Bay Hotel.” A blunt chuckle generates from a corner of the room. “Close enough,” the low toned, male model replies. 

Addressing him, you ask, “What happened?” The tall one pulls a chair up to the mattress. “We’re actually hoping you could tell us,” he replies softly. You close your eyes, raising your hand to your temple. Applying some pressure, you answer, “I was closing up the diner. I heard the front bell and then this shadow came at me.” The male model in the corner stands up, walking closer to you. His arms crossed against his chest. “A shadow?” he asks. You open your eyes to look at him. “Yes, a shadow. I could also see claws and these really terrifying teeth. He scratched my back,” you reply. “Before I knew it, I was hanging from my arms in this shitty ass cabin. H-he,” your words choke you as you attempt to continue. With a clearing of your throat, you share, “He killed that girl, June.” The tall one quickly turns toward his companion. “June Emery,” he says quickly.

“You knew her?” you ask. He turns back to you slowly. “No, she, uh, she went missing about a day or two before he got you,” he answers softly. With the brief mention of “him,” it all comes flooding back. Without realizing it, you mutter, “James.” The tall one leans closer towards you. “Yes, James Carlton,” he says with a bit of excitement. “Do you know where he lives?” You look up towards him, a confused face meeting his. “Why would you go to his house?” With a twist of his neck, he nervously speaks while gesturing with his hands. “Well, we need to find him-” Quickly, you rise from the mattress. Looking down towards him, you raise your voice, “You didn’t fucking kill him?!”

The tall one backed his chair from you slowly. The male god raising his hand towards you. “It’s okay,” you hear him say. Finally, the voice that you’ve been listening to - that’s comforted you. “We’re going to get him, y/n,” he says gently. You breathe harshly through your nostrils. You are not satisfied by that answer whatsoever. It was not good enough. James should be dead for what he did. Your fists begin to ball up. “I don’t even know who you guys are. I’m fucking leaving,” you say rushing towards the door. The two boys instinctually move towards the door, blocking you from escaping.

“I’m Sam,” the tall one says with a soft tone. “And this is my brother, Dean. We saved you from James two days ago. You’ve been in and out since then. We want to make sure that this doesn’t happen to anyone again.” The model, Dean, continues to sternly stare at you. Looking at Sam, you whisper, “I want to go home.” They continue to stand in your way. “I don’t care if you guys come. I just need my medicine and-and I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, okay?” Sam nods, looking quite concerned. “Dean’ll take you,” he says. Dean raises his hands, his mouth open. “What are you going to do?” he says. You watch, disgusted, while expecting some annoying brother-like banter. “I’m going to canvas the neighbors,” Sam says softly, leaning towards Dean. “You know, just in case,” he mutters discretely. Rolling your eyes, you push forcefully through the two men and walk towards the unforgettable car. 

After an excruciatingly silent car ride, you finally reach your house. With a wince, you slowly raise from the passenger’s side. Dean rushes around his car’s front to support your arm. “I’ve got you,” he says softly. You both walk towards your house. After a night like you’ve had, you would imagine being home would give you a sense of comfort or safety. But it just leaves you with an empty feeling. You finally open the door after a few seconds of struggling with the keys. “So what’s this medicine you need so bad?” Dean asks, walking through the threshold. You chuckle as you walk towards your living room. In your first aid kit, you grab hold of the fragrant joint you got a hold of last week. "I’ve been saving this for something special,” you sigh. “Fuck it.” He laughs as he walks towards you. Placing the j between your lips, you ask, “You smoke?” 

“No, I don’t smoke during a case,” Dean says, taking a look at your living room. You shrug and begin to light the joint. “A case?” you ask with a giggle. He turns towards you with confusion as you suck in a puff. “Ah,” you say releasing a long trail of smoke. “Yeah, this should take care of these aches. No problem.” Turning back towards him, you ask, “If you don’t smoke, what do you do?” Dean smiles, walking towards you. “I’m a beer man,” he says confidently. Your eyes widen in excitement. “Oh, I’ve got that too!” He follows you as you glide towards the kitchen. You grab a cold beer from your fridge, and proceed to sit on your small kitchen table. With a wave, you invite him to join you. 

Dean sits down slowly. He twists off the cap of his beer and takes a quick swig. “James lives in an apartment back in town, on Pentrose Ave. I doubt he’d go back there after all this,” you say. He leans his elbows onto the table. “Is there any where else he’d end up?” he asks with a serious inflection to his voice. “Where was the cabin?” you ask as your press your finger back onto your temple. “It was about 3 miles behind your diner. Pretty hidden in those woods,” he says as he takes another sip of his beer. “Well, there’s an old mining tunnel a few miles into the woods. It’s supposedly haunted by ghosts and shit,” you say laughing to yourself, taking another puff.

With a sudden deadpanned face, you take the moment to realize that you might actually believe in those ‘ghosts and shit’ now. What happened two nights ago was not normal. He was not normal. “What was - What happened to James?” you ask hesitantly. Dean sharply stopped sipping on his beer. He slowly places the bottle onto the table. “He was turned into a werewolf,” he says quietly. His eyes fixated on your face - attempting to prepare himself for whatever reaction you gave. “A werewolf,” you repeat slowly. Somehow the unbelievable makes whole lot of sense to you. “He seems to target important women in his life. Three women, including you and June, have gone missing,” he says emotionless.

“And they eat hearts,” you whisper. Dean looks at you with surprise. His eyebrows furrow together. Concern plastered throughout his face. “Yes.” With a sucking of your lip, you keep your eyes down. “He ate June,” you mutter. He reaches his hand towards your chin. With a slight push from his jaw, he maintains eye contact with you. “He did and he will never do that again. You are safe,” he says matter of factly. His green eyes intensely looking at yours. You can see the pain in them, but you note the strength and power behind them. Luckily for you, heroes are just as beautiful as they make them out to be.

Pulling your eyes from him, you question, “So, you guys patched up my back? I don’t have to worry about any surprise hospital bills?” Dean laughs, following your lead in the conversation. “Yeah, you’ll have a pretty bad ass scar.” Taking another puff, you chuckle, “Great, just what I need.” He leans forward, touching your hand. “Hey, scars are sexy,” he whispers. You giggle in response. “You sure you weren’t just looking at my ass while you stitched me up?” you reply with a twist of your head and a raise of your brow. That familiar flush presents on his cheeks.

“Oh, so you remember that,” Dean states, taking a large sip and leaning back into the chair. His hand slowly leaving yours. “Yeah, a bit hard to forget given everything,” you say with a smirk. “I’m sorry,” he says with a hand to his face. You lean forward to hold his other hand before he could place it further away from you. “Don’t worry, I liked it,” you whisper. His eyebrows rise and a smirk appears on his face. He scoffs as he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand. With a smile, you squeeze your hand and raise from the table. You walk towards your ashtray on the counter and flick off the cherry of your joint.

With a smooth quick movement, you walk towards your bedroom’s French doors - swiftly opening them. You turn your head around towards Dean as he continues to sit at the table. “I’m going to bed,” you say softly. With a slow back and forth, you lower the waist band of your jeans. You bend over as you push them down towards your ankles. As you step out from them and continue forward, you mention, “You can join me if you’d like.” You smile as you hear a loud grinding of the chair against the floor. His steps rushing towards you. 

Dean carefully places his hands on your waist as you walk into your bedroom. With a look over your shoulder, you ask, “Can you help me take this off?” He smiles, biting his lip. He slowly lifts your white top off of you. You wince at the intense ache as you raise your arms. “Are you okay?” he asks as he plants the gentlest kisses onto your neck. You spin around and place your hands on his low back - pulling him closer. As you maintain eye contact, you lean towards him and kiss him gently. His lips felt like clouds, soft and generous. His body refreshing against yours. You feel his hands gripping onto your hair. You slowly press your tongue against his lips. His softly meets yours in a loving embrace.

You both begin to walk towards the bed. Sustaining kisses throughout the action. Dean slowly lowers you onto the mattress. His touch leaving you with a jolt of excitement and pleasure. As he leans onto you, you unfortunately feel weight onto your bandages. You attempt to hold in the wince as much as you could. You had hoped that the weed would have softened your pain receptors. Unfortunately, he was able to notice. “Is your back hurting you, y/n?” he says in an angelic voice. You nod, leaning into another kiss. He pulls away, staring at your face. You watch as his eyes shift focus on different aspects of your body. He smiles and leans past your face towards your ear. “Turn over,” he says softly.

With his support, you slowly flip over. Dean instinctually grabs one of your smaller pillows and places it under your hips - leaving your ass up in the air. “Perfect,” he says as he lands kisses on the dimples of your low back. You grip tightly onto the pillow below your face. His hands start on the side of your thighs and up to your hips. Your body is filled with pins and needles. He hooks his fingers below your panty line and begins to pull them down. You shake at his touch. A wetness forming between your legs as he pulls ever so slowly.

“God, you’re amazing,” Dean says breathlessly. You grip even harder onto your pillow, knowing that you are fully on display for him. He begins with his finger traveling up and down your pussy, gathering slick. He releases short breaths. You softly begin to moan, so terribly excited for what would come next. With a swift but gentle movement, Dean spreads your legs apart. He leans himself closer into the gap. He slowly circles his finger onto your clit. Your legs tighten against his body. He lands tender kisses onto your ass as he squeezes his hands onto your thighs. 

Dean’s kisses grow closer and closer to your pussy. It leaves your thighs desperately shaking. Your body aches for his touch. Aches for his mouth. Aches for him. As his lips finally reach, a tongue slowly emerges and laps up your slick. He feels absolutely incredible against you. Your heart begins to race. Your clit starts to pulsate to a steady beat. “Dean,” you moan aloud. He quickly shushes you as though you were distracting him. He traces his tongue deep against your skin. You release harsh breaths and begin to bite onto your pillow. Dean slowly pushes his tongue deep within you. His finger continuing to stimulate your clit. Your hips begin to wiggle at the extreme pleasure. 

Every so often, Dean would come up for air. He continued to moan your name with each breath. You begin to tense around his tongue and finger. Your walls begin to tighten, furiously craving him. He slowly pulls out from you. He returns to kisses on your cheeks, leaving you with a flood of intensity in your groin. With a sudden movement, he bites down onto your skin - moving back and forth between cheeks sweetly. It leaves you with a white hot sensation, but a frantic need for more. He then traces his tongue onto your ass. It slowly comes closer and closer to your hole. 

You tense up, never having done anything like this before. Dean’s hands gently guide you and relax your body. His tongue begins to circle your hole, leaving you with an almost overwhelming rush of pleasure. You moan louder into the pillow, learning something new about yourself. “Fuck Dean,” you blurt out. He continues to circle your hole. His hands gripping harder against your cheeks. As you struggle to maintain your breathing, he quickly pulls from your hole and slams his tongue deep within your pussy. He drags his tongue in and out of you with a quick and sudden pace. You feel your body collapsing onto him. A hard, hot beating felt up to your ears. Your walls pulsating around his tongue. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you scream desperately. You feel a giggle against your skin, as he grips harder onto you. That all too familiar pit in your stomach begins to appear. Without realizing it, you begin to move your hips back into him. As your moans increase, he begins to make more noise against you. Each of his grunts leaving you in a whole other level of pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m going to cum. Fuck Dean!” you scream as your cum releases into his mouth. You feel your toes curling. Your body tensing against him. You feel lightheaded through the extreme gratification. 

As you continue to ride out your high, you grind your bottom against his face. A man has never ate you out as well as he has. Of course, you would never tell him that. As your movements slow, Dean raises from your legs and lands himself beside you. You grab onto his shirt and pull him closer to you. He wraps his arm underneath your pillow. His fingers tangling within your hair. Your head resting softly against his chest. “Shit,” you say, out of breath. He laughs as he plants a kiss against your forehead. You look down towards his jeans and see a rather large bulge. A smile forms across your face as you bite your lip. Dean follows your eye line and smirks. He uses his other hand to slowly unbutton his jeans. 

You giggle looking up towards his chin. “Oh, were you expecting something?” you whisper sarcastically. Dean chuckles, “Well, I didn’t expect you to be a pillow princess, but that’s fine, y/n.” You scoff, raising yourself from his chest. “I am not a pillow princess! But ... I am definitely going to leave you wanting more.” He bites his lip and pulls you back down towards him. “God, you are so beautiful,” he says with a tight grip around your shoulders. You lean up and kiss his jaw and eventually land upon those supple lips. “I know,” you whisper. “I’m going to make us some pancakes,” you say enthusiastically as you pull away from his chest. “No way,” he says with a sudden serious tone. 

With a giggle, you prance into the kitchen and begin to make your famous pancakes. “Go clean up, I’ll get started,” you say pointing towards your bathroom. Once he’s washed his face, Dean slowly returns to the kitchen. He leans onto the threshold, biting his lip, as he watches this beautiful naked woman cooking him up some pancakes. “They do say ‘food is the best way to a man’s heart’,” he shares with a smile. You turn towards him with a hum, “Hm, your heart, huh? You already feeling something here, baby?” You wave your whisk between the two of you. With a laugh, he says, “I already know I will be coming back for more.” With a smile, you return back to your cooking. “I hope you will,” you whisper to yourself. 

After watching this man eat your pancakes in less than 2 minutes, Dean leans back onto his chair with a hand on his stomach. “Shit, that was good,” he smiles. You take another bite of your first pancake. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you say. “Oh, baby. I enjoyed every minute,” Dean says with a confident smirk. It is your turn to blush. With another bite, he reaches into his pocket. He grabs a flip phone. “What the hell?” you chuckle. “It’s a classic,” he replies with a wink. As his eyes land onto his phone’s screen, his facial expression shifts. A sudden switch from happiness to stern and serious. The change so drastic that it leaves you asking what was wrong. As he pulls his eyes away from his phone, he whispers, “Sam didn’t check in. He should have checked in by now.” He quickly pushes off from the table and begins to gather his things. “Something’s wrong,” he says gravely. 

You quickly rush to grab your clothes as he finds his keys in the living room. “Just stay here, y/n. I’ll come back for you,” Dean says sternly without looking back. “I’m coming with,” you reply. He slowly turns towards you. “Look, I don’t have time to deal with this. You stay here. I will come back for you,” he says impassively. As he slightly opens your front door, you land your palm closing it loudly. “Let me be clear. I will be going after James whether you’re there or not. So I will be helping you get back Sam and kill that fucker in the process.” Dean watches your eyes intently. He recognizes your passion. He acknowledges your strength. He also knows that he might end up having to save two asses instead of just his brother’s. With a clenching of his jaw, he mutters, “Fine. Let’s move.” You follow him out the door. 

—- x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x o x —-

note: i hope you liked it! let’s pretend it makes sense for someone who got their back ripped up to later get their ass eat up. what do you think? lmk your thoughts in the comments or reblogs!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week consisted of the same routine. Always in the same bed, always holding hands, with Dean falling asleep first. Tonight, was no different, apart from the bar they decide to hit after a very successful hunt before heading home. An easy salt ’n’ burn which went down without a hitch. Celebratory drinks were purchased and consumed by the Winchesters and their partner. They sat on the stools awaiting their next drinks while Y/N was approached by a man. Not unattractive by any means, well-built and clean. Sam looked over watching the interaction and Dean's behaviour knowing full well he may have to break up a fight if it went too far. Dean watched as Y/N shamelessly flirted with the gentlemen who had now caught her attention. It didn’t take very long for Dean's jealousy to overtake him as he clenched his fist around his beer bottle his posture tall and rigid. Y/N turned to the boys after wishing the stranger a good night.

“Hey guys I’m kind of beat, what’d you say we head home?”

“You turned down Prince Charming?” Trust Dean to make the ridiculous comments.

“Actually no, I told him I’d be more than willing to run away with him and have all his Prince Charming babies in his castle, but he didn’t want to make my boyfriend angry.” Trust Y/N to throw the comment right back at him.

“What boyfriend?” Y/N looked at Dean, a smirk on her face with one eyebrow raised as she pointed at him.

“He said you looked angry and didn’t want to provoke you by talking to me. So, thanks for that.” She started walking towards the exit a smirk on her face as Dean chased her, Sam holding up the tail laughing to himself.

“Don’t blame that on me I didn’t do anything! Oh, excuse me for being precautions and not wanting you to get hurt!” Dean could argue all he wanted but with Sam laughing and Y/N being as nonchalant as she was, he couldn’t get a reaction out of them. After getting home, they all made their way to bed. As always Y/N stayed with Dean, though tonight she couldn’t fall asleep and for good reason. Y/Ns phone had begun vibrating incessantly. She snatched it up swiftly with the aim of leaving Dean to his sleep, and she managed gracefully.

What woke Dean that night was something he would have described as a nightmare, though tonight it happened to be real and not a figment of his sleeping state. Dean opened his eye to see Y/N sitting up leaning against the headboard instead of the bright Y/E/C he was usually greeted with. Her gaze wasn’t on his as he’d hoped it’d be, it was on her phone, and they weren’t happy or refreshed as they ordinarily were, they were lacking in rest and filled with tears coupled with the sorrowful and provoked look on her face. Dean rushed to sit up looking at her, worry painted plain and clear on his face.

“Y/N! Are you okay? What happened?” His gaze had trailed to her phone which she briskly shut off, wiping tears away with her free hand.

“Dean! Sorry, I — Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just — I was reading the news.” She had always been a terrible liar.

“The news made you cry?” The disbelief overtook his expression. “Y/N I trusted you with my nightmares, you can trust me with — “ he waved his hand at the phone “whatever this is.”

“I know, I know I just — I want to forget about it…” Deans stare didn’t falter, waiting for her to continue. Y/N caved, leaning her head back and closing her eyes as though she could make it all disappear if she couldn’t see anything.

“I have this ex…” she peered over to Dean who made himself comfortable. She had his full and undivided attention, which she hated. “He’s mad about the breakup.”

“Y/N I’ve known you for ages you haven’t dated anyone in years.”

“Oh, I know…which just makes his advances and accusation all the more aggravating… His name is Carver. Keeps saying I messed up his life, that if I hadn’t shown up, he’d have been better off. Jokes on him I was the better half of that relationship and I can say that. Anyway, um, in short, he’s bombarding me with texts about how I never loved him, about how I played him and he’s accusing me of cheating and not doing enough for him, there’s more but it's all the same pathetic revelations he thinks I need to know about at two am four years after our breakup. I mean we didn’t even date that long to begin with it took me less than two months to figure out what a pig-headed loser he was — is!”

She was angry, hurt by the words directed at her. Regardless of the fact that she knew not to take Carver’s words to heart, she couldn’t help but do just that. Seeing as he had never been good with words, Dean instantly took action, pulling her close, hugging her as she cried her way back to sleep in his arms. Dean slid down in the bed, not once pulling away from Y/Ns body or moving her to her side. Dean found it difficult to keep the butterflies at bay as he focused on her breathing. He fell asleep with his girl on his chest and a smile on his lips.

When Y/N woke she could feel the weight of Dean's warm hand stroke her back and could hear a steady pulsing noise. Funny enough that, she soon identified the noise as Dean's heartbeat seeing as she was still laying on his chest. She moved cautiously unaware of the fact that the man she had fallen asleep on was in fact awake as well.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, Dean. Listen about last night—“

“It's okay, really, I’m just glad I could be there for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You know, I seem to remember a pizza when you helped me…”

“Really? I don’t.” This was easy, Dean thought, comfortable, with Y/N resting gently against his chest looking up at him, his hand still stroking her back.

“Huh, I could have sworn there was a pizza.”

“Oh, you mean the one you finished off before I could get a chance to taste it. That pizza?”

“If I remember correctly, which I do, it was you who ate it all…before we even got home.”

“Oh, you mean that pizza. I do recall yes.” She smiled at him “And what would you like Dean?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Fine but you’re buying, I’m just going with you.” Y/N made her way out of bed to the door.

“That’s hardly fair!” He called out after her, a smile adorning his face. Dean got up and moved to the bathroom stopping at the sink to look himself in the mirror.

“You’re losing this battle and you’re losing it bad. Man, how does she do it.” He brushed his teeth and made his way to the bunker library where Sam was researching, as always, on his laptop, books scattered over the table.

“Morning, Sammy. Y/N and I are going on a supply run, you need anything?” Dean's eyes trained over the opened pages before looking to his brother, eyebrows raised as he awaited his brother's response.

“You two have been spending quite a bit of time together.”

“Is that the title of a book or something you want me to pick up?” Sam watched his brother for a split second before Y/N joined them in the library dressed in black jeans and an equally black tank top, signature hunter flannel overtop.

“Morning, Sammy. Dean and I are going on a supply run. You need anything” The boys abandoned their stare before Sam answered as Dean headed for the door.

“No. Thank you. Oh, actually if you could bring back some cashews that would be great.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem. See you later Sam.” With that Y/N followed Dean to the garage where she was once again faced with the stunning, near mint ’67 impala she had come to love almost as much as the driver. Noticing the smile decorating Y/Ns face he proceeds to say the one sentence, sworn she would never in a million years, come out of Dean's mouth.

“You wanna drive?” Naturally, Y/N was speechless, mouth left agape as Dean held out the keys.

“You’re serious…” Eyes wide she whispered, tiptoeing over to Dean.

“Yeah, I figured it’s about time.” Y/N took the keys in her palm memorizing the weight as though this was the last time she’d ever have the opportunity to touch them, which of course wasn’t true; Dean would always give her the keys to grab things for the trunk. She eased her way into the driver's seat hardly blinking, as not to miss a detail of this experience. Taking a deep breath, her cheeks began to hurt from all the smiling as she started turned the key in the ignition bringing Baby to life.

“Oh, Dean…Oh Baby!” Dean tries his best to hold back his giggles as he watched her watch Baby.

“She likes you”

“She’s not a dog Dean, she a machine.” He could hear the adoration in her voice as she gripped the steering wheel. Y/N proceeded to put the impala in the drive, pulling out of the bunker's garage onto the road in the direction of the grocery store. Dean's eyes lit up and the eruption of laughter coming from next to him. Dean moved to turn on the stereo putting in a Who tape but was interrupted by Y/N.

“Nuh-uh! Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cake-hole! Your rules Dean-o. Look in the box, there should be an orange tape.” Taken aback by her dominance, Dean looks through the case of tapes.

“Dean-o? Really? That just sounds so stupid.”

“Well then it’s fitting isn’t it? And I was worried you thought it was cute.”

“Haha…There’s like 17 orange tapes in here you wanna be more specific.”

“It should say ‘the best of Zeppelin’ in black sharpie, my handwriting.” Dean's confusion and surprise grew as he finally reached for the tape described to him.

“Put it in.” Y/N couldn’t help but smirk at the innuendos running through her head though Dean missed it, too consumed by shock at her choice of music as he inserted the tape.

“The first one is my favourite Zeppelin song so no interrupting.” Instantly the aforementioned bands ‘No Quarter’ came on, filling the car with its gentle beginning. As the guitar and drums picked up Y/N smirked and nodded her head to the music.

“Just wait for the bass.” Without delay the instrument picked up, engulfing their mutual ears with something Y/N could only describe as “Better than breathing air.”

She sang the lyrics alongside Robert Plant at a hushed murmur not wanting to miss the words the artist performed. With every beat her fingers tapped on the steering, she consequently plucked at each of Dean's heartstrings. He felt a warm, nearly overwhelming feeling charge through his chest though as soon as he came to notice it, he pushed it down just as fast as it had made its way up.

Y/N still had a smile on her face when they arrived at the grocery store though it took them longer to get there due to the scenic route the drive had taken. She got out of the car happy to have had the experience but nevertheless saddened by the slim chance of ever have it again. Y/N came around the car to Dean's side holding out the keys to him before he looks at her, his face expressing the utmost confusion, sarcastically so, before smiling.

“Nah, you hold onto ‘em sweetheart, how do you expect to drive us home if you don’t have the key.”

With a shriek and a jump before clinging to the Winchesters side in a show of thanks, Y/N displayed to perfection, a child on Christmas morning. Though he hugged back he watched around them, inspecting for judgmental eyes.

“We are in public!” He said.

“Shit! I know.” Dean began their trek to the entrance with Y/N wrapped around his waist, his arm resting on her shoulder.

Dean grabbed a buggy at the entrance pushing it to the produce.

“We gotta grab those, uh…” “Cashews?”

“Yes, those, before we forget.”

“Good idea.”

The store was sparse of customers given that it was the middle of the day in the middle of the week, neither was surprised. Their cart had begun accumulating content as Dean pushed while Y/N rode on the front-facing him.

“Alright, we got the bread, milk, eggs, cashews, bacon,” She looks up to Dean “times two,” he shrugged “snacks for the drive back and movie night,” “all we're missing now is —“

“Y/N?” She didn’t turn to check who had called because she already knew, recognizing the voice that had yelled ta her on multiple occasions only to apologize saying he’d do better. Instead, she looked to Dean who eyebrows had raised in a questioning manner then focusing on the man who had called her name. Y/N hopped off the buggy slowly to be faced with the one that still managed to ruin her sleep all these years later. Dean promptly made his way to her side reassuring her with a hand on her lower back.

“Carver— Hi.” Dean jaw visibly clicked at the mention of his title, finally putting a face to the name.

“What are the chances!” How dare he text her those things the night before only to act as though nothing happened. Dean was furious, he could feel his anger roll through him as he clenched and released his fist doing his best no to make a scene.

“Yeah…” She breathed out in shock. Not a word was spoken as they watched the ex standing in front of them.

“Can we talk?”

“No. I’m busy.”

“It’ll only take a second.” He looked to Dean, who had taken a protective stance next to her, standing up straight and tall, shoulders back, chin tilted up slightly, a blank expression on his face.

“Just say it then.”

“I was hoping I could speak with you alone.”

“No.” This time Dean was the one to respond to Carver’s request.

“I wasn’t really askin’ you, buddy.”

“He’s staying Carver. Just — say whatever you have to say, will you.” It took him a moment as he held Dean's stare before moving his gaze to Y/N.

“I wanted to apologize for last night…you know… the—“ He gestured using his head glancing at Dean momentarily.

“You mean the utterly untruthful and pitiful text you sent to me accusing me of things I never did.” Carver’s face went red looking to Dean. “He knows.” The Winchester found it amusing that her ex was intimidated by him with only a stare.

“Right, well, I just wanted to apologize. I was drunk and didn’t mean any of it.” Carver moved his hand to the back of his neck before continuing. “I guess I was just missing you.”

“That’s because I took on all the responsibilities when we were together, Carver. You did nothing. And you know what they say, ‘drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.’”

Dean now had a proud smile on his face as his hand slid from her back to rest on her shoulder. Carver didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t argue with her, not that he’d want to, considering the towering man next to her. Carver examined the couple, taking in their comfort around each other. Y/N was unconsciously leaning into Dean, taking comfort in his close proximity.

“You guys dating.” Carver finally asked. Y/N didn’t even get a chance to process the question let alone think of a response before Dean spoke up.

“Well, we’re certainly not just sleeping together. Not that it’s any of your business.” Y/N smirked at his comment, understanding the inside joke that they were in fact just sleeping together in the most literal sense possible, though Carver took the smile as a sign of confirmation. Neither argued his assumption nor clarified, both enjoying the uncomfortable atmosphere around Carver.

“It was good to see you Y/N.”

“It was wasn’t it.” She commented as Carver walked his way to the check-out line. Dean leaned down kissing the crown of her head.

“What. An asshole.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Right, now that that’s over,” He made a face of disgust as he shivered his shoulder to reinforce his implications. “where were we?” He smiled at her.

“Pie, Dean, we were at the pie. My ‘thank you’ for dealing with that.” She pointed in Carver’s general direction.

“Awesome, so worth it.” Dean's grin grew as he spotted the variations of baked goods.

As they drove back, Dean gave her permission to take the longest way home if she felt so inclined, which, needless the say, she did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3

Tag List: @just-someone-difficult​ @mila-dans​ @akshi8278​ @bargedog​ @valhallavxlkyrie

Both boys looked at each other in surprise and wondered which of them was going to have to carry you back to the motel. Dean gave a slight nod to Sammy, indicating he would be the brave soul. Sam grinned, grabbed his date and off they went to her apartment. Working through the second set of shots just as quick, you looked at Dean who happened to be watching you with a weird look on his face as the waitress came back over. ‘Why’s he gritting his teeth?’ as you ordered six shots more this time.

Honey, Cherry ‘whatever’ was to preoccupied with trying to fit Dean’s ear in her mouth to pay any attention to the fact that she had already lost him to you. Dean clenched his jaw as you tossed back shots like prohibition was on it’s way back into effect. From the corner of his eye, he caught a couple of guys watching you and felt his anger start to rise when one of them started over to the table. As he made it to the table, Dean lowly and gruffly spoke, “Ain’t happening buddy.”

It was like time stopped in that moment, you froze with a shot halfway to your mouth, even whats-her-name pulled back from Dean’s earlobe with an audible pop. Dean though, he lifted his tumbler of whiskey to his lips and took a long drink. “She ain’t interested. I suggest you go back to your buddies.”

The guy looked at you, then Dean, back to you and when you shrugged your shoulders he turned away defeated. “Uh, wanna explain to me what’s with the caveman routine?” you asked.

“Obviously, you have something on your mind sweetheart and that wouldn’t have ended well. Trust me,” Dean all but growled holding your gaze. He looked at this date and grinned, “Sorry, um,...”

“It’s Brandi-with an “I”, thank you very much,” she replied with a toss of hair.

“Okayy..Brandi, it looks like tonight isn’t happening,” Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. “C’mon Y/N, let’s go back to the motel,” he added as he threw down thirty dollars for the drinks.

__________

Driving back to the motel, Dean glanced over at you, “Wanna tell me what that was all about sweetheart?”

You gave a half shrug, “What, you mean besides you being the world’s biggest cock block?”

Dean choked out a laugh, “Really? No, I mean drinking like it was your last night on earth. Correct me if I’m wrong sweetheart, but I’m pretty sure we stopped the apocalypse. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Shaking your head, you all but whisper, “I can’t.” You look over at him, his profile illuminated by oncoming headlights, wanting to tell him your feelings but not wanting to ruin your friendship. Or worse, him not being interested in you.

He furrowed his brow, deep in thought about your response. You always told him everything, it was one of the many reasons that he loved you. Not that he would ever tell you that, though. He was damaged and to broken for someone like you. With a quick glance into the rearview mirror he whipped the wheel to his right and brought the car to a stop. He turned in his seat, “Look at me, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath and twisted in your seat so that you were facing each other. “Fine. I wanna know what those bar skanks have, that I don’t.” Inwardly you groaned, ‘Don’t throw up, don’t throw up!’

Dean felt his mouth drop open in surprise, with eyes wide he stuttered, “I-I’m sorry, what now?”

“Don’t make me ask again,” you pleaded with tears beginning to fill your eyes.

“Okay, okay, uh, shit,” Dean ran a hand through his hair. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally he blew out a deep breath and raised his eyes to yours.

“Sweetheart, we’ve known each other for a long ass time. I was never so grateful that Dad took us on that hunt, it was one of the longest times we spent somewhere. It took me forever to get your number, though. Made me think I lost my edge,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “It wasn’t that long, more like six weeks, jerk. Now get on with it,” you laughed.

He smirked at you, “Yeah, yeah. So, the only way I can explain it is this, those girls I pick up, their like an interstate. Something that you use, when you don’t have time to enjoy the ride. It makes you appreciate what’s already in front of you.”

Tilting your head, “What?!”

“Sweetheart, I know you better than I know anyone else. You...you’re like a back road. I know where are all the curves are,” he flicked a glance down your body, “Y/N, what I’m saying is, I could close my eyes and touch you,  start at your beautiful face and head south of your smile and take my time exploring every curve.” He paused to look at you, licking his lips, you gulped.

Lightening streaked across the sky, fragmenting in all directions as the rain came down in sheets, visibility reduced to 3 inches in front of you. Hail rained down, bouncing as it hit the ground. The tent was no match for the golf-ball sized chunks of ice, ripping the first chance it got. I was huddled in my car, listening to the wind howling around me; I didn’t want to chance driving in weather like this. As a bolt of electricity light up the night sky, a twisting funnel caught my eye, dancing across the treeline.

I fumbled for my keys, shoving them into the ignition with shaky hands. The car jumped and shook as I sped up, following the unmarked path with a grimace. I felt every bump in the dirt road- and my back was not thanking me for not getting the shocks replaced soon enough. I swore that I was going to make my boss’s life hell for making me come out in this shit.

All of a sudden, I went into a tail spin, tires locking and squealing. A burst of color shot across my eyelids and my body jolted forward; then it all faded to black.

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