#mobsterdean

“Sit over there, and don’t talk,” you nod silently as Dean points at the chair next to his. He brought you to a large room with a large table and twelve chairs around the table. “I don’t want to explain the rules again.”

He smirks darkly as you dare not to meet his gaze. Dean Winchester has this effect on people. If he enters a room, all eyes are on him before they drop their gaze and wait for him to take the lead.

“You will only talk if I ask you a question,” he lifts your chin with his index finger to search your face. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” it’s a whimpered plea, nothing else. Gone is the self-confident woman. She got replaced by a scared little bunny standing in front of the big bad wolf named Dean Winchester, “I understand the rules.”

“Good girl,” his praises leave a bad taste in your mouth. You don’t want the mafia boss to call you a good girl or be proud of you. All you want is to get your life back and hide under the biggest rock and never come out again. “Now sit down, and just look pretty.”

He doesn’t wait for you to sit down before he leaves the room. At least you get a few moments on your own now to sort your thoughts and forget your life doesn’t belong to you anymore.

“Oh, hello there,” a man you didn’t meet so far steps inside the room, stealing the silent moments you longed for. “Dean outdid himself with the entertainment today, huh? What are you going to do for me, baby?” He purrs and you stumble back as he tries to cup your face.

“Hands off, Brady,” Dean grunts as the blonde tries to touch your cheek. “She’s not here for your entertainment. Wait for the girls at Ellen’s club tonight. If you need to get your dick wet, look for someone else. That one is my secretary, and no one touches what’s mine.”

It’s a relief that Dean at least doesn’t force you to entertain his guests, or rather business partners. Your life is not yours any longer, but you want to decide who touches you.

“Sit over there,” he grabs your arm to guide you toward the chair next to his. “If anyone ever tries to touch you against your will again, you say my name. You will tell them that you are mine. Got it.” Dean looks down at you. There is something in his eyes that you didn’t see before. His features soften and you almost believe he can be a good man if he only wants to. “Got it, Y/N?”

“I got it,” you weakly reply. What else can you do? Dean Winchester, the leader of his own syndicate towers over you, making you shrink in yourself.

“Say it,” he leans closer to bump his nose against yours. He breathes against you, searching your eyes as you try to find your voice. “I want to hear it, sweetheart.”

“I’ll tell them that I’m yours,” Dean smirks now. His eyes drop to your chest, and he hums as you breathe heavily close to him. “Why would you want to protect me?”

“You’ll always be safe as long as you know that you belong with me now,” he boobs your nose with his index finger. There is playfulness in his demeanor as he looks you all over as if he’s afraid the other man touched a hair on your head. “I only keep you safe as you are a talented little thief. I want you to clamp your mouth shut and just sit next to me. Maybe you can take some notes.”

“Notes?” you glance up at Dean. “I’m not some secretary.”

“You are everything I want you to be, sweetheart,” damn, you dared to huff at his words. He smirks, amused that you flinch as he cups your chin roughly. “I’m going to turn you into my loyal little thief. I love bending people to my will.”

“I bet you do,” fuck, sometimes you just can’t stop yourself from running your mouth. “I’ll just sit down now and take some notes, Sir.” You offer to not eat a bullet too soon.

“Sir now, huh?” that fucker smiles wildly as you struggle to keep a straight face. You’d like to tell him all the things swirling in your mind or call him a jerk. Of course, no one is stupid enough to call a man like Dean Winchester a jerk.

“Dean, can we begin,” Dean looks down at you, still that stupid smirk on his face as his brother tries to get his attention. “DEAN! Did you even listen?”

“What?” the mobster snaps his head toward his brother to give Sam a bitch face. “I was in the middle of something here.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Stop flirting with your newest toy. We’ve got a conference in five,” Sam sighs as Dean sits on the table to run his index finger up and down your arm. “Dean, can you focus on business now.”

“She’s business too,” your captor chuckles as you cross your arms over your chest. You don’t hide you’d like to run out of the room and try to get away from Dean Winchester. “Our little thief will be useful.”

“How?” Sam presses on. “She’s only a pretty face. I don’t think—” sighing deeply at his big brother’s antics Sam sits on his chair, the one to Dean’s right. “Fine, have it your way.”

“Did you not read her file?” Dean leans closer to get a good look at the necklace you are wearing. “She was one of the best cat burglars not so long ago. I bet her big brother taught her everything, just like I did with you.”

“He should’ve kept her out of this business,” Sam sneers as you glance at him. He doesn’t seem to be too fond of you, or your presence in this room. “That girl doesn’t belong here, Dean.”

“Sammy, thanks to her we got rid of Cole Trenton. That little thief will be useful and a great addition to our gang,” Dean chuckles as you frown. “What? Don’t you want to be part of my gang?”

“I’ve got no choice,” you mumble as the room fills with more men. All eyes are on you and Dean when he hops off the table to pat your head. “Hey, I’m not some dog you can pet.”

“I told you before,” his hand wraps around your throat and you gasp as he looks down on you, his face cold and stoic now, “you are what I want you to be. If I say you are a dog, you are.”

The meeting dragged on. Dean, Sam, and the men you don’t know talked about business, money, weapons, and their latest conquests.

“Why again do you want me to listen to this?” you whisper as Dean nods at something a blue-eyed man in a trench coat said. You think he called him Cas, but you are not sure. 

“Why is the girl here?” a smaller guy, with dark hair and an accent asks. “What?” the man cocks his head as Dean gives him a dirty look. “Why did no one ask before? I mean, she’s a cute little thing, but I prefer doing business without having a pretty dame around.”

“She’s my secretary,” Dean dips his head to look at you. He furrows his brows, daring you to say something stupid again. “You made notes for me, didn’t you?”

“Mental notes,” Sam rolls his eyes at your reply. “I forgot my notebook, Sir. I’m sorry.”

“Darling, you are much too forgetful for a secretary. Shouldn’t you help Dean and not make his life harder?” the man sneers now. “Dean, what is she really doing here?”

“Y/N is not your problem, Crowley,” you flinch at Dean’s harsh tone. He jumped up and slammed his hands onto the table to get everyone’s attention. “I bring whoever I want to with me. She’s here to learn.”

“Learn to spy on us?” the man responds. He looks at you again, making you feel unease as his eyes darken. “Winchester, I want answers.”

“She’s new and I’m showing her the ropes. Y/N belongs with me,” Dean cocks his head to look directly at Crowley. “Do we have a problem here?”

“No,” you furrow your brows as the man arguing not moments ago shrink into himself. Dean seems to be an even more dangerous man than you thought. If all these men in the room fear him, what can you do to escape him?

“How did you end up becoming a thief?” Dean places a plate with food and a beer in front of you. “Sweetheart, I expect you to answer my questions.” He hands you a fork. “Now.”

“After my mom died, dad lost his job,” you poke the food with the fork. “He—well.” You sigh deeply, shaking your head. “He had to take care of two kids. I was two, and my brother was barely six. Dad borrowed money from the wrong guy and…”

“He had to pay his debts somehow,” the mobster asks, and you nod silently. Dean watches you like a hawk, wanting to find out if everything he found out about your past was the truth. “How?”

“One day my dad was a caring father, and the next he become the hitter for some mafia boss. My father was a strong and tall man. He did the dirty work for more and more gangsters. It was only natural that my brother and I ended up in the same business,” you wipe your eyes. “It was a one-way ticket to hell, though.”

“Your father got shot. A shame. He was a good man,” Dean places a manila folder onto the table. He opens the folder to place pictures of the man killing your father in front of you. “His killer.”

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly as you look at the pictures again. “No one knows who killed my father and brother…no one.”

“No one wanted to know,” he places another picture on top of the other, showing the very same man, just a little more dead. “Well, no one but me. You know, I like knowing what’s going on in my territory. Your father was a damn good hitter, and your brother had very talented hands.”

“What? I-I don’t understand,” you grasp Dean’s hand. He doesn’t fight you when you harshly tug at it. “What does this mean?”

“Your father used to work for my father,” the mobster casually says. “John Winchester, does this name ring a bell?”

“Dad never told us about the people he was working for. One of many rules. No asking questions. No talking about his clients.”

“Well, my father appreciated your father’s work, I did too. One day, that bastard Styne dared to put an end to your daddy’s life,” he shrugs as you look up at him with wide eyes. “No one kills people working for me, sweetheart.”

“What about my brother? Did he work for you too?” you sniffle, wiping your eyes. “Did they die because of your kind of business?”

“You should learn to not push boundaries all the time. Your father and brother died as your daddy got involved with the wrong people. He chose this path. No one did it for him,” Dean angrily slams the folder shut. “At least I avenged your family. All you did was sit around, and sulk like an angry child. You turned your back on the life you had and became…I don’t even know what you are right now…”

“You’re an intensive asshole,” you jump up from your chair to ram the fork into his chest. Sadly, Dean is fast, too fast for you. He grabs your wrist midair and easily takes the fork out of your hand. “Monster! BASTARD! Kidnapper.”

“Yeah, that I am,” he wraps his arms around you and lets you slam your fists into his chest until you are out of breath and too weak to fight his embrace. “You know, Cole never was a nice guy. He was the one ratting your brother out. Just like he did with you that night. For the right amount of money, he would’ve gladly sold his mother to me.”

“I hate you,” Dean presses your head into his chest, smirking as you squirm in his hold. “You’re a—sonofabitch!”

“Language, sweetheart. My mother wasn’t a bitch,” the mobster holds you a little tighter when you start to fight him again. “You should know, you belong with me now. I don’t care what you want.”

“Asshole.”

“An asshole or a bastard would’ve just shot you. A monster would’ve done much worse to you for breaking into their house. I offered a warm bed, food, and protection to you, little thief,” he whispers lowly. “Maybe you should rethink your behavior. One thing is for sure, you will not leave my house, Y/N…never…”

>> Part 3

He’s wearing an expensive suit, looking like it was custom made. Everything about the man giving you a cocky grin screams rich and spoiled douche. Everything but his soft eyes as he watches your shoulder sag.

“Nah, I don’t like it, sweetheart,” you cringe at the too-sweet pet name. Especially as he looks you up and down, humming before turning his attention back toward the ties. “I need the perfect tie to tie my girl to the bedpost.” 

“I don’t know what else to show you. These are the newest models. We got some others in the back. My boss wants to put them on sale next week.”

“Hmm…” he nods thoughtfully. “How about you tell me which one you like? What do you think would suit me best, sweetheart?” again, that pet name. You shrug it off, hoping he’ll decide on a tie soon so you can finally close the store and head home.

“I’m afraid that—” you glance at the ties on the checkout, deciding to just blindly choose a tie to get the man out of the store. “Okay, let’s see.” You look him deep in the eyes, nodding as you remember there was an emerald tie with a simple design. “This one.” You pick the tie up to hold it in front of his face. “It matches your eyes, Sir.”

“Good choice,” he smirks as you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Now I only need like ten more.”

“Ten?” you choke out. It’s long past closing time and now, you will need much longer to get home. A grocery run is still waiting for you, and then you need to walk back home. “I’ll find them—oh no! What?”

The man twirls around as two masked men storm into the boutique, one of them aiming a gun at your customer. “Believe me, boy. You don’t want to do this,” your legs are about to give in, and you tremble in fear while your customer chuckles. “Do you have the slightest idea who I am?”

“No, and I don’t fucking care, asshat,” one of the men grunts. “Crash, bring the girl and that douche to the back, lock them in the office while I take care of the cashier.”

“We shouldn’t forget the safe,” the other man replies, wildly gesturing toward the door leading to the office in the back. “We want all the money. If you are a good girl, nothing will happen to you. If not…well you will see.”

Crash steps closer to your customer and presses his shotgun into the man’s chest in a silent threat. “Turn around and follow the girl to the back. If you don’t act out, you’ll survive the night and can buy more fancy clothes.”

“Fancy, huh?” the man drops his eyes to the shotgun, analyzing his situation, debating to risk fighting for the shotgun or not. Then he remembers you are still with him and decides to just wait for a better chance.

He slowly turns around and places one hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let them harm you.”

“Says you,” you sniff as the robber barks orders at you and your customer. “They have guns. One of them has fucking shotgun. Damn it. I don’t want to die for my boss’s money.”

“Stop talking!” the man yells and you flinch. You walk a little faster, aware that the men could easily kill you and your customer. “Open the office and the safe for me.”

Your fingers tremble as you fish the keys to the office out of your pocket. You know your boss will try to blame you for not closing the boutique on time. “Fuck, please open up,” you struggle to find the right key. “Shit.”

“Why do you need so long, bitch?” your customer grunts at the man’s comment. “Hurry or you’ll not leave this place ever again.”

“Give me the keys,” gently touching your hand your customer nods at you. He’s giving you a curt nod before taking the keys out of your hands to unlock the office. “There you go.”

“Get in and open the safe!” stumbling into the room you try to remember where the safe is. On your first day at work, your boss told you about the safe, but that’s that. You didn't pay much attention to it as she made clear you must stay away from her office and the safe.

“I don't know how! I’m only selling clothes here,” you cry as the man points the shotgun at you now. “She never told me how to open it.”

“Stop lying, bitch,” the man backhands you, making you cry out in pain. Blood seeps out of the cut at your cheek and drops onto your blouse. “Open the fucking safe.”

“She came and got the money an hour ago. My boss wanted to bring it to the bank. There is nothing inside but papers, I think,” you stumble backward as the man wields the shotgun in front of your face. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I suggest you take the cash from the register and run for your life,” your lips quiver as your customer takes two steps toward you and brings you behind his back with one swift motion. “Or maybe call her boss, and tell her you keep one of her employees hostage.”

“I’ll call that boss and get my money,” the man storms out of the room, slams the door shut, and locks you and your customer inside the room.

“No—no,” you are full-bloom panicking now. “They will kill us now! Bela will never pay them shit for me. She doesn’t even like me.”

“Sweetheart,” he turns around to check on your face. “I promised to keep you safe and I will keep that promise. I want you to listen to me now.”

“I don’t even know your name,” it’s the stupidest thing to ask the man now but you want to know the man who will die next to you tonight. “Mine is Y/N.”

“I know,” he points at your nametag, chuckling again. “I’m Dean Winchester, Y/N. Now I will check on your face and then, I’ll find a way to get us out of here, okay.”

“Okay,” Dean gets a handkerchief out of his  pocket to press the fabric to your bleeding wound. “I should’ve killed him right there.”

“He’s got a shotgun, Dean,” you start to cry again. “Fuck, I don’t want to end dead. I wanted to do so many things.”

“You’ll do all those things,” he softly speaks, hand running over your hair. “Y/N, I want you to hide under the desk and not to come out until I tell you so. Can you do this for me, sweetheart?”

“I’m scared, Dean,” outside the room you can hear the men yell at each other. “Please, I don’t want to die without doing all the things on my bucket list.”

“What’s first on your bucket list, Y/N,” Dean asks. “Just tell me. Maybe we can make sure you cross it off your list after tonight.”

“It’s…uh…you know,” your drop your gaze, giggling as this is the wrong time to think about number one on your bucket list. “Kiss a stranger.”

“We will see what we can do about that one later. Now, quick hide behind the desk,” you do as Dean told. He nods, smiling softly while getting his phone out of his jacket pocket. Why didn’t you think about calling for help?

“Damn, I’m such a damsel in distress,” grumbling you crawl under the desk to hide from the men robbing the boutique. “Fuck, my phone is in my jacket…”

“Sammy, I’m sorry to ruin your plans for tonight, but I kinda got into the worst robbery ever. I’m still at the boutique and two amateurs try to rob it. One with a shotgun, not the smartest. Seem to be young guys. The other has a revolver. The one with the shotgun knows how to handle it, the other not so much. Here’s a girl too, so don’t kill us on the way…”

“What? Who did you call, Dean? Why didn’t you call the cops?” wrap your arms around your legs, trembling in fear. “Are you crazy? This was our chance to get out of here alive.”

“Sure. We would’ve ended up dead as the cops usually mess hostage situations up. My men will take them down. Just sit tight, sweetheart.”

“Did I tell you already that you are an ass?” poking your head out from under the desk you glare up at Dean. “I swear if I survive the night, I’ll give you a piece of my mind.”

“I told you to duck your head and hide under the desk. Christ, you are a handful, sweetheart. After my men took these amateurs down, we will have a long conversation about your attitude.”

“My attitude?” you grumble. “What—?” a scream tears from your throat as gunshots echo through the boutique. Dean immediately crouches down next to you to bring you into his arms. You willingly hide your face in his chest and hold tight onto him for dear life. “I’m scared…”

“Shhh…I’ve got you, Y/N. You’re an annoying little trouble maker, but I will keep my promise,” scared you ignore Dean’s comment. You rather fist his jacket and start praying. “My brother got this…”

“Dean, you can come out. We’ve got them,” you cling to Dean as he tries to get up. “DEAN!”

“In here. I’m fine, Sammy. The girl is clinging to me and won’t let me get up,” Dean chuckles as you look up at him, still trembling in fear. “You’re safe now, Y/N. Let’s get out of here.”

“O-kay,” Dean helps get up. Your legs are wobbling, and he must help you walk toward the door too. “Thank you.”

“Sam, open the door. We are coming out now,” one arm slung around your shoulders, Dean guides you out of the room after Sam unlocked the door. “What’s with the amateurs?”

“Alive, but injured,” Sam shrugs as you look at the men threatening to kill you. “I thought you want to take care of them. What’s with the girl?” looking at you Sam’s features soften. “We should get her out of here first.”

“Benny, help her grab her things and bring Y/N out of here. I want to have a short conversation with those assholes,” you’re still too out of it to talk back. You follow Benny out of the boutique, hating that you feel helpless and weak.

“Buddy, you made three mistakes tonight,” Dean towers over the man attacking you. “Your first mistake was to enter the boutique. Your second mistake was to not recognize me and,” he beats the man with his gun, smirking as the man winces in pain, “the last one was to hit the girl. That was unnecessary.”

“She paid us to fake a robbery,” the other man cries as Sam points his gun at his head. “Bela said her employee is collateral damage.”

“The owner wanted you to rob her store?” cocking his head Dean looks at the man. “Why? This doesn’t make sense.”

“Her insurance, Sir…Mr. Winchester,” the man stammers, eyes glued to the gun in Sam’s hands. “Please, I didn’t touch the girl. My gun wasn’t even loaded.”

“Stop talking,” the man in front of Dean grunts. “Do you want to go to jail for Bela? Shut your damn mouth.”

“You should be more afraid of what I’ll do to you,” smirking Dean unlocks his gun. “Say your prayers, you son of a bitch…”

“Where are we going? This is not the way to the police station!” you look out of the window, frowning as the car slows down in front of a large gate. “What is this place?”

“My home, sweetheart,” Dean shrugs. “I told you we will bring you somewhere safe. It seems that your boss wanted you to die tonight. Until I know you are safe, you’ll stay with me.”

“WHAT?” blinking a few times you look at Dean. “Why do you want to keep me around? You don’t even know me!”

“Well, you helped me find the perfect tie. I owe you a favor and,” he leans closer to you to glance at your lips, “you still want to cross that kiss off your bucket list...”