"I believe in us!" Andi 36 18+ Blog: Respect this please Sam/Jared have my 💙 Dean/Jensen are my spirit animal Cas/Misha empower me J2M Positive Leave your wank at the door!
This fic is based on Dean's hook-up with the diner waitress in 12x18 The Memory Remains, told from her POV. Hope you enjoy! The prompt for this one is 'I'm gonna need more bandages,' and it's in bold in the fic. (And I wrestled with getting it worked in here for a while! 😂)
Have I ever told you about the time the FBI came into my diner? No? I never told you about hooking up with the sexiest man I’ve ever met? Well, grab some coffee and have a seat, and I’ll tell you all about it.
Pairing: Dean x the nameless waitress from 12x18
Word Count: 3791
Warnings: Fluffy smut
Dividers: Cherry dividers by @kodaswrld
Have I ever told you about the time the FBI came into my diner? No? I never told you about hooking up with the sexiest man I’ve ever met? Well, grab some coffee and have a seat, and I’ll tell you all about it.
I will never forget when he walked into the diner, wearing a suit and tie, and that long overcoat. Perfect hair. Perfect smile. Tall and broad-shouldered and so gorgeous he made me forget what I was doing for a minute, the coffee cup I was filling overflowing and making a huge mess on the floor behind the counter.
I used the time it took to mop up the coffee to try and get myself together, and then I got back to work. We exchanged flirty smiles every time I passed by, and he gave me his undivided attention and a ‘Thank you, sweetheart’ when I’d stop to refill his cup, which I’m sure I did way more than was necessary. He had the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen, eyelashes I was frankly jealous of, and I was dying to trace the shape of his tempting lips with my fingertips.
I know there was an extra little swing in my walk – my body had a mind of its own in his presence. I felt like I was a love-struck teenager again, distracted and feverish and lusting after this total stranger. At one point I looked up from behind the counter and there he was, perching himself on one of the seats in front of me with his coffee in hand.
And then he did it. The whole ‘This coffee is hot’ routine, the cheesy pickup line I’d heard dozens of times before. It had never worked – not until then. He asked my name with a boyish grin on his face, and I gave it to him – and if we’d been alone, I probably would have included my panties.
The diner was busy, so I slipped him my phone number and address, told him what time I got off, and then he and his partner took off. I think I walked about a foot off the floor for the rest of my shift, floating through my day with nothing on my mind but what would be happening that night.
I was all showered and fresh and jittery from anticipation when he knocked on my door that night. He flashed me that devastating grin when I opened the door, and I stepped aside to let him in. I offered to take his coat, suddenly nervous and unsure of what to say.
He waited for me to hang his coat in the closet, and I turned to face him, still completely at a loss. I mean, not like I was inexperienced or anything – I’ve been known to spend a night with an available guy guy here and there – a girl does have needs, after all. But something about Dean – I don’t know, it just seemed like this night was going to be – more.
Thus my nerves. I gave him a shaky smile and blurted out, “So, do you want a drink?”
He smiled, his tongue darting out over those delicious-looking lips as he stepped closer. He reached to touch my face, his thumb gently tracing over my cheekbone. “How about we save that for later?” he replied in a husky whisper, his other hand moving up my bare arm as those lips brushed over mine, seeking, then settling in with a low hum to steal any remaining thoughts from my spinning mind.
I’m quite sure there are women out there who have survived kissing Dean. I’m not sure any of them have come out the other side of the experience the same as they were before. I know I wasn’t. I have never, not before or since, been kissed like that. He was an artist.
Once he had kissed me senseless, he pulled back for a second, looking down at me with those mesmerizing green eyes as he spoke in a voice that sent vibrations right through me. “Where do you want me, beautiful?” Talk about a loaded question – but I just gestured lamely towards the bedroom and let him steer me that direction.
He kissed me all the way there, even though we bumped into walls and he smacked his elbow hard on the doorway on the way into the room, but he laughed, and I laughed, and I was suddenly completely at ease. I had never met someone so sexually attractive and at the same time so boyishly appealing. I was still giggling a little as I shoved his suit jacket from his shoulders, and he shrugged it off, letting it hit the floor and kicking it away. He let me work the buttons open on his shirt before his smile faded, his eyes roaming over me as his hands came to rest on my waist and then moved upward to pull my shirt up slowly. I lifted my arms, letting him finish removing my t-shirt, and I watched as he tongued his plush lower lip in between his teeth, his eyes devouring me in my sexiest lacy bra.
“You like?” I asked coyly, looking up at him from under my lashes, and he let out a little growl as he yanked me close and kissed me hungrily. Every inch of my exposed skin that came in contact with his was buzzing with electricity, and I wanted more. He nipped at my bottom lip and I sucked at the tip of his tongue, my hands slipping beneath his open shirt to roam over his back, the swell and dip of muscle there making me feverish with want.
He backed me up until my knees hit the mattress, and he stopped for one moment to raise an eyebrow at me as he reached for the drawer in the bedside table. I nodded, knowing what he was after, and he pulled out the foil packet he was searching for, dropping it near the lamp before he advanced again with a predatory smile, making me scoot back onto the bed with a matching grin.
He unfastened my jeans and pulled them down, standing up again to pull them over my bare feet before he finished removing his shirt. Then he crawled up over me again, letting his eyes roam over me, a finger tracing the lace at the top of my matching panties. “Did you put this on just for me?” he asked, and I nodded, my lip caught in my teeth. “Let me show you just how much I appreciate it,” he said, bending to place slow, lingering kisses all the way down my torso. He stopped, staring down at the birthmark I have just at the inside of my hip bone, tracing the shape with his fingertip. “So does this mark the spot where you like to be kissed?” he teased. “Are there more of these? Like, um – a sexy map?” he asked with a wink and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
I laughed at his antics, shaking my head. “No more, sorry.”
His smile slowly faded, his gaze smoldering as he stared into my eyes, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of my panties to pull them down. “Don’t worry, I can find my way.”
I could barely breathe as he quickly disposed of my panties and kissed his way up my calves, first one side, then the other. Then the nibbling on my inner thighs began, and I started to be concerned about my sanity.
Dean’s mouth should be registered as a lethal weapon. I’ve had men go down on me before, yes, but – let’s be honest – most of the time they do it because they think they’re expected to in order to get what they really want, not because they enjoy it. Believe me when I say that Dean enjoys it. He enjoyed it until I was a delirious, blissful mess, and by the time I could focus again he was standing at the foot of the bed unzipping his pants. He gave me a slow, lazy smile as I opened my eyes. “There she is,” he said, turning around to sit on the bed and remove his shoes and the rest of his clothes. I couldn’t take my eyes off the play of muscle beneath the smooth, taut skin of his back, the breadth of his shoulders, the spattering of light freckles over both making me long to play connect-the-dots with my tongue.
Then he stood back up and turned, and I forced myself to close my mouth before I drooled down my chin. God, he was just perfect all over. “Somebody in this room is still not completely naked,” he teased, giving that glorious cock in his hand a gentle stroke. He didn’t have to say it twice.
I sat up, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra and tossing it somewhere – I faintly heard something crash as it knocked something to the floor, but I didn’t care. I was too busy crawling down the mattress with my eyes on the prize. He hissed in a breath when I tongued at the tip of his cock, moving his hand out of the way and letting me take over. He let out a quiet ‘fuck’ when I sucked him into my mouth, his fingers tangling in my hair, and I made it my mission in life to pull as many delicious noises from him as he had forced from me. When I reached down to gently squeeze his balls, his grip in my hair tightened, his voice strained as he spoke. “Fuck, sweetheart, stop.” I looked up at him as I backed away, afraid I’d gotten too carried away, but he gave me a crooked smile and continued. “I mean, unless you want to wait a while for me to fuck you…”
I shot him a naughty grin. “No, I do not want to wait,” I sassed, and he immediately began to chase me up the length of the bed, me scrambling backwards as he crawled after me, and we were both laughing when he caught me – for a minute, anyway. Then he looked down, let out a little groan, and dived in, sucking my nipple into his mouth. I made a noise, somewhere between a whine and a screech, and he settled in to tease me until both nipples were hard and tingling and I finally grabbed him by the hair. “Listen – somebody said something about fucking, and I’m still waiting,” I panted out, and he flashed that playful smirk again before he grabbed the condom off the nightstand and ripped it open.
He rolled it on and was hovering over me again in seconds, lining himself up and then kissing me again as he slowly, so slowly, pushed inside. I had to turn my head, unable to breathe, he just kept going deeper and deeper, and when I thought I couldn’t take in any more, he was finally buried completely inside me. He held still while my body molded around him, his lips nibbling at my throat and shoulders, speaking in that low, sexy voice in my ear and telling me how good I felt, that he loved how hot and tight I was, that I was taking him so well, and it was almost enough to send me over the edge again. “So fucking sexy, you know that? You ready for me, gorgeous?”
“So ready,” I managed to whisper, “fuck me, Dean.”
“Gladly, sweetheart.” He braced himself on his forearms and pulled back, a slow drag out, back in to the limit and then out again, but I was getting impatient by that time, and I locked my legs around him and pulled him in.
“Fuck. Me.” I said with my teeth clenched, and he flashed that naughty grin again before he got serious. I asked for it, and I got it. He slipped a hand underneath my lower back, angling me to the perfect position for him to hit my sweet spot with each driving thrust, and I completely lost control of the noises I was making, hoping fleetingly that my neighbors wouldn’t hear me and call 911. Honestly, I didn’t really care. If I ever get the chance to choose the way I die, I’ll choose this.
I came once, screaming his name, and he just kept going. I hung on, clawing at his shoulders and back, and I could feel him begin to throb when he came, growling and burying his face in my neck. I was exhausted, but another orgasm washed over me, leaving me shaking and weak, panting for air. His breath was hot on my neck, our hearts pounding in unison, and I know I drifted off to sleep for a while. I woke up with a whimper as he pulled himself free, and I laid there, sated and still as he got up and took care of the condom before collapsing down on the bed beside me with a heavy sigh.
The next morning, Dean rode with me back to the diner to meet his partner. We hadn’t slept much the night before, but I was feeling good. Really good. I had aches in several places, but they were delicious reminders of the night before, and I didn’t mind at all.
Dean walked me into the diner, taking my elbow to stop me just inside the door. “I’ll see you later,” he said softly right next to my ear, giving my arm a squeeze before he walked away to join his partner at a nearby table. He had a secretive smile on his face as he sat down, and me? I was smiling all the way to the kitchen. He had promised to come back after they finished up with work, and I was warm with anticipation at the thought of spending another night with him.
The day seemed to drag on forever, but finally the afternoon coffee drinkers cleared out and it was time to close. I went to the kitchen and got busy restocking and baking pies, since we were almost out. I was just pulling the second batch of pies from the oven when Dean texted me, letting me know he was at the front door.
I unlocked the door, letting him into the dark dining room and locking the door behind him before taking his hand to lead him to the kitchen. I was excited to see him, and a little nervous, babbling as we headed that way. “Smells great in here,” he said, and I turned to face him with a smile, but that smile melted away quickly when I saw his face. His ear and the hair behind it was covered in blood, the side of his face bruised and scraped raw, and I could feel the blood drain from my face.
“Oh my god, Dean – oh my god! What happened?” He tried to say he was fine, but I wasn’t listening. “You’re bleeding, you – you have a cut on your head, you could have a concussion! You probably need stitches!” I rushed over to the first aid cabinet on the wall, grabbing the portable kit and hurrying back to his side, opening the box as I continued rambling. “Oh my god, oh my god, we have to fix that cut – shit, I’m gonna need more bandages. Why doesn’t anybody ever restock this thing after they use it? We have to get you to the hospital!”
Dean grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently to stop my rant. “Sweetheart, I promise you, I’m fine. The cut isn’t bad, I don’t need stitches, I don’t have a concussion. I might look a little messy, but I’m okay.” I stared up at him, shaking, and he pulled me into his arms. “You gotta believe me, I’m fine.”
I wrapped my arms around him and tried to calm myself, then pushed away, flashing him a stern look. “Fine. But you’re gonna let me clean you up,” I said, jerking the chair out from under the counter and nodding in its direction.
“Yeah, okay,” he answered with a rueful smirk, sitting down without any argument.
He sat still for me while I carefully cleaned his face, and then moved on to clean the blood from his ear and his hair. He winced as I cleaned around the cut on his head, but didn’t make a sound. When I was done, I took the first aid kit back to the cabinet, letting out a relieved sigh, finally feeling somewhat calm again. He stood up, pushing the chair back into place as I came back to stand in front of him.
Dean glanced around the room. “Lots of pies,” he said.
“Yeah, we were almost out. I was baking while I waited for you.”
“Might have to buy one to take with me when I leave.” He cleared his throat. “So, I – uh…” He huffed out a breath, then continued. “I’m not gonna be able to stay tonight. We caught another case. My partner is at the motel getting our stuff together and then he’ll be back to pick me up.” My face must have reflected exactly how I felt at hearing the news, and he put a hand up to my face, regret in his eyes. “Sorry. We’ve got maybe half an hour.”
I bit my lip, fighting the disappointment, but I didn’t want to waste the little time we had. So I pushed it down, stood up on tiptoe, and kissed him. He crushed me to him with a groan and kissed me back hard, then backed me away, reaching for the ties on my wrap dress. He pulled it open, tugging my panties down to my thighs and then moving his hands to my waist to lift me and plop me on top of the counter. My fingers landed in the cherry pie next to me, and he laughed. “Oops. I’ll pay for that,” he said as I pulled my hand out, my fingertips covered with the red filling. He took hold of my wrist, lifting my hand to his lips and sucking my finger into his mouth, and everything inside me went molten at the sensation. He cleaned each finger, then reached over to scoop another dollop of cherry goo with his finger, bringing it to my lips. I stared into his eyes as I leaned in and sucked that fingertip into my mouth, sucking and swirling my tongue around it, smothering a smile as he let out a moan.
His phone pinged, and he pulled it from his pocket with an annoyed frown. He looked back up at me, laying the phone aside and glancing towards the pie again. “Damn it. I wish we had more time, sweetheart, because I just wanna lay you out, smear that pie all over you and clean it off with my tongue. But Sam’s on his way.”
I stared back at him for a beat, then bent over to push my panties down farther, letting them fall to my feet and kicking them to the floor. “Then I guess we’d better hurry,” I said, reaching for his zipper.
Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out a condom and ripping it open with his teeth as I yanked his pants and boxers down. He rolled it on, pulling me a little closer to the edge of the counter before grazing his fingers through my folds, slipping two of those long, thick digits inside of me for several quick strokes before he pulled them free and lined himself up. Both hands gripped my hips as he plunged inside me, looking into my eyes as I panted for air.
“This thing bolted down?” he asked, tapping the counter top. “Good,” he said at my nod, and he started a fast, hard rhythm that forced cries from me each time our bodies collided. It was delicious and intense, on the edge of desperate, and it felt amazing. I had my arms braced on the counter top, so he reached a hand down between us and rubbed at my clit, sending me over the edge. He came a few strokes later with a rasping growl, holding himself in deep until he finished and pulled me up close, those strong arms holding me tight against his chest.
I slipped my arms around him, running my hands over that tight ass and up under his shirt to smooth over his back, needing to feel his skin beneath my touch. “Wish you didn’t have to leave,” I said, “that whole pie thing sounds pretty amazing.”
He laughed softly, giving me a squeeze before backing up far enough to kiss me. “Yeah, it would be. Guess I’ll just have to dream about it. I’m thinking I’ll be having some really good dreams about you.”
“Mmmmm, yes – so will I.” I kissed him again, and we kind of got lost in it, his cock twitching back to life inside me – and then his phone pinged again, and he stopped kissing me with a reluctant sigh.
We both moaned a little when he pulled out, and he went to dispose of the condom before coming back to grab my panties from the floor and help me get them back over my feet. He helped me slip off the counter and stand to pull them up, and then closed my dress and tied it before cupping my face in his hands and kissing me gently. “Thank you. I’ve had more fun with you the last couple of days than I’ve had – well, in a long time.”
“So have I. If you ever get back this way again…”
“Count on it,” he said, taking a step back and fastening his jeans. “I guess – I’d better go.”
I turned to grab a pie from the counter, handing it to him as he looked at me in surprise. “Take it. It’s cherry. From now on when you eat cherry pie, think of me, okay?”
He smirked, nodding. “Count on that, too.”
I walked him to the door and let him out, one last clinging kiss for the road, and then I locked the door behind him and watched him leave.
So, that’s the story of my run-in with the FBI. Well, with the FBI agent. It was epic, that’s for sure. I can’t bake a cherry pie without thinking about him. I keep hoping one day he’ll walk back through that door, but it will probably never happen. Oh, well, you know what they say – it’s better to have fucked and lost than never to have fucked at all. Okay, so I paraphrased. It still works.
Also this made me chuckle: Oh, well, you know what they say – it’s better to have fucked and lost than never to have fucked at all. Okay, so I paraphrased. It still works.
Written for Jacklesversebingo2024. The prompt for this one: TV Remote - Air Freshener - Rubber Duck. Yeah. 😁😂 (Included in the fic in bold) Just silly and fluffy!
Your week at work has been shit, and the guys are getting on your nerves with their constant bickering. And then you walk into the shower room, and BOOM.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 1527
Warnings: Temper Tantrum? No smut (that's a warning for some people 😂)
Divider from @strangergraphics-archive
You pull into the bunker garage and just sit there for a minute, basking in the feeling of just being home. Work this week has been a bitch – one cluster-fuck after another, a boss that loves to pile the responsibility for untangling said cluster-fucks squarely on your desk, and the stress has taken a toll. Your neck, shoulders and back are in knots, a dull headache throbs at your temples, and you just want to grab some food, your pajamas, and soak in a hot, fragrant bubble bath until it all melts away.
You walk into the library, and a mouth-watering aroma makes your stomach growl. Apparently Dean is cooking, and you kick off your shoes, wandering into the kitchen. “Hey, there she is,” he greets you, gesturing to the table, where Sam is already seated and a plate waits for you. “Made you a steak and baked potato. Want a beer?”
You inhale appreciatively as he deposits the food on your plate, giving him a tired, grateful smile. “Thank you, Dean. This smells wonderful.” He grins, that little boy look in his eyes that he gets when you praise him for anything, and it makes you happy. And the little kiss he plants on your lips doesn’t hurt, either.
You eat, and chat, and complain about work, listen to the boys rail about what an asshole your boss is, and how he should appreciate you more. It’s nice, and comforting, and you feel a little of the tension leaving you.
And then the bickering starts.
They haven’t had a hunt in three weeks, and they’re getting on each others’ nerves. It’s been going on all week, along with your work issues, and you just don’t have the patience for it. Not tonight. So you quietly get up from the table, put your dishes in the sink, and head for your room. You shed your work clothes and put on your fluffy robe, put your hair up and head for the shower room, ready for that lovely escape from your annoying reality.
The door to the shower room is closed, so you open it and walk in, stopping mid-step. You completely forgot about the mess in there. Dean is a neat freak when it comes to the kitchen, and Sam is usually pretty clean. But, for some reason, they just always assume you will take care of the bathroom. The last few days you have just silently refused to do anything about it, and it has slowly gotten completely out of control.
There are wet towels on the floor, or draped over every available surface, and random pieces of clothing have been left here and there, including a pile of bloody, messy clothes from the last hunt. Both sinks are covered with toothpaste and whiskers from shaving. The room smells like something large and hairy has crawled in there and died after eating a Mexican restaurant.
You stand there for a minute, your temper coming to a full boil before you turn around and leave the room, marching towards the library where you can hear the brothers still sniping at each other. You walk up to the table, grab the book nearest you, and slam it to the floor, the sound echoing through the room. The boys both look at you, eyes wide and mouths open, and you unload.
“Why is it that you two can manage to clean up after yourselves in every room in this place except the bathroom? Is this a hotel? Do I look like I work for housekeeping? I just wanted to run a hot bubble bath, soak and relax in peace, but oh my god the smell in there… If you guys are going to binge on burritos, then please for the love of god at least maybe buy some air fresheners! And I am not cleaning up your disgusting sinks or picking up your dirty clothes and wet towels, are you fucking toddlers?”
“Sorry, meant to clean up in there, but…” Dean started, but you hold up a hand, cutting him off.
“Another thing – I have listened to you two bickering like a couple of old ladies all week. And when I try to escape that, go watch TV, you” (you point at Dean) “come in and grab the remote and start channel surfing at every commercial, and then I always miss half of my show because it’s already started again by the time you go back to it. And you always expect me to spend my whole weekend doing the laundry. What did you do before I lived here? I am not your maid, I work my ass off just as much as you do, and I’m done.”
You turn and march off to your room, throwing your robe on the bed and digging clothes from your dresser. The guys are still sitting there in shock when you come back out, fully clothed and jacket on. “I’m going to town. Keep your phones on, I’m gonna need a ride home later.” You storm out, climbing into your car and heading for the bar in Lebanon, fully intending to get shit-faced.
Several hours later, you weave your way out to the parking lot of the bar where Dean sits waiting for you in the Impala. It’s only around 10:30 and you’re tipsy, but you’re not fuzzy-headed drunk, your tirade from earlier in the night completely clear in your mind. Yes, you had reason to be frustrated, but the boys hadn’t deserved your temper tantrum.
You climb into the car, feeling Dean’s eyes on you as you settle in and close the door. You can’t bear to look at him yet, and he doesn’t say anything, just backs out and heads for the bunker. You both go inside, and Sam is waiting as you reach the bottom of the stairs.
You move past him and turn to face them both as Dean joins his brother. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve…” Dean shakes his head as he steps forward and pulls you into a hug.
“We’re sorry.”
Sam speaks up next. “We have been kinda taking you for granted. We didn’t mean to.”
You reach out a hand to take his, giving it a squeeze. “Forgive me for yelling at you?” you ask them softly. Sam joins the hug for a second, dropping a kiss to the top of your head before smiling at you and leaving you and Dean alone.
Dean bends to give you a gentle kiss. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Okay? Now I need you to come with me.”
You let him lead you down the hall to the shower room, and he opens the door, waving you by with one arm. You step into the room, which now looks clean on a molecular level. The tile shines, the porcelain sparkles, the chrome fixtures gleam. The air smells clean and fresh, and you finally remember to close your mouth. “You cleaned. I mean, you really cleaned. This is amazing.”
“Yeah. You were right, we were pretty disgusting. Sorry, babe.” He pulls you into his arms again and hugs you tight. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” You squeeze him back and head for the kitchen to grab water before going to the bedroom.
You are down to your bra and panties when Dean comes into the room, and he grabs your fluffy robe from the hook on the back of the door on his way in. He approaches, tossing the robe onto the bed and reaching behind you to unhook your bra, his eyes on yours as he brushes the straps from your shoulders and takes it off. Then he goes to one knee in front of you, slipping his fingers into the top of your panties to pull them down your legs, letting you balance with one hand on his shoulder as he lets you step out of them. He stands, grabbing your robe, and holds it for you. “Put it on, I need you to come with me,” he says softly.
He leads you back to the shower room, all the way to the back, and a smile replaces your confusion as you see what waits for you.
The large claw foot tub is full of steaming water, mounds of bubbles floating on the surface, a rubber duck perched on top. There is a stack of clean, fluffy towels nearby, and the table at the head of the tub and the shelf on the wall behind it are laden with candles, the space full of their flickering light. You can’t help but giggle at the duck, and Dean grins as you stretch up to kiss him. “I love you.”
“Me too, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you close for another lingering kiss. “So – are you gonna get in?”
You step back, letting your robe slip to the floor. “Are you gonna get in with me?”
“Hell, yeah. But I get to play with the duck.”
“Fine with me. I’m gonna have better things to play with,” you tease as you move close to unzip his jeans.
Prompt- Reader is a Junior in High School and has a vision of her parents’ brutal, yet supernatural deaths. She immediately calls her best friend, Dean Winchester, a Senior, who comforts her the only way he knows how. Fluff and some supernatural death.
For @fightingalongwinchesters
You were sitting in your AP English class, revising your paper on The Great Gatsby, as your teacher assisted others with their assignments. You daydreamed about the great love story inserting yourself into Daisy’s shoes. Oh to have someone look at you like he looked at Daisy! That wasn’t to say you didn’t have a few takers; but they didn’t do anything for you. They didn’t make your heart race, they didn’t make you forget to breathe, and they sure as heck didn’t make you want to doodle your first and their last names together with little hearts and swirls. Right on cue, you felt your cell buzz in your back pocket, and as you scanned the room, to make sure your teacher wasn’t looking, you pulled it out to see a text from your best friend, Dean Winchester. Now Dean, he made you laugh, he made you feel safe, and best of all, he wasn’t the player all the other girls in the Senior class made him out to be. In fact, you would never mutter this aloud, but he was just as big a nerd, as his little brother Sammy. He just kept his intellect to himself; using snark, bravado, and his good looks to mask it.
Bio is KILLING me, Smalls
You had to chuckle, Dean would never quote gangsta rapper, Notorious B.I.G. No, it was his nickname for you, because you were a whopping 5’4 to his 6’1. However, that didn’t stop you from replying back,
You’ve got nothin’ on Gatsby, Biggie
Dean sent you another text within seconds, geesh, his Biology class must really be kicking his ass today. You smiled a goofy grin as you read one of the lines from non other than The Great Gatsby. “Geek” you muttered under your breath.
“Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.”
You were about to shoot him another text, when you heard your teacher fast approaching from the back of the row you were sitting in, and quickly stashed your cell in the front pocket of your messenger bag.
“Y/N”, her squeaky voice made your jaw ache, “would you mind helping Jenna with her final draft, while I peruse your modifications on The Great Gatsby paper you so brilliantly have written?”
“Sure thing, Ms. Calloway,” you slid your foot toward the messenger bag, kicking it further under your desk, so she didn’t hear the buzzing, indicative of another text from Dean.
Another twenty minutes passed by as you assisted Jenna with her outline for her final draft and with each second ticking by on the large clock above the classroom door, you found yourself battling the onslaught of a migraine. The words were starting to jumble together as you attempted to proofread Jenna’s awful handwriting, orbs of light began to flash in front of your eyes, nausea began to creep it’s way up your throat, and that’s when it hit you; stabbing pain in your right temple. You grunted in pain as you white knuckled the desk, Jenna’s voice distant albeit she was inches from your face. You’ve experienced auras before with your migraines, but this time, with each jolt of pain, images began to flash in front of your eyes. You were only getting glimpses, but with each one, the more they became violent.
Blood splatters against the linoleum.
Another jolt of pain; another image.
A woman’s screams, the man in the kitchen grabbing at his throat as blood begins to seep through his graying fingers.
Jolt!
The man falls to his knees, gasping for air that won’t come. Arterial spray splatters across your vision as the woman’s abdomen is slashed and her throat too is sliced.
Jolt!
Claw marks on the refrigerator, bloody handprints, the woman’s final attempt to leave a message, her bloody fingers, slowly and haphazardly scribbling letters onto the floor near her dying body.
Jolt!
A photo. The three of you posing in front of your house. Your house. Your mother. Your father. Your freshman face.
“Oh my God, no!”
You wretched onto the floor of the classroom, screaming in between sobs, as you came to the harrowing conclusion that what you just saw, what you had just seen, was the murder of your parents. You didn’t know what to do; classmates were trying to assist you, but you swung your arms and kicked your legs out in frustration, fury, bitterness. You found your bag under your desk and somehow, without any recollection, found yourself locked inside the girls’ locker room. You maneuvered yourself so that your back was against the door, knowing you couldn’t run home, you turned to the only person you trusted. With shaking hands, you texted Dean.
Girls locker room. I need u. NOW.
Dean stared at the screen on his cellphone, sensing your urgency, hefted his backpack over one shoulder and beelined to the door. Before his teacher could even get out his last name, Dean was out the door and sprinting to the girl’s locker room. He stood in front of the door and looked around the hallway to see if anyone was around and tried to push open the bulky wooden door. Something or someone was jamming it from the inside. He cursed under his breath, reached into his back pocket for his lock picking set, crouched down to see the keyhole, and began to wiggle the lock open.
Inside you felt the door being tampered with and your flight or fight instincts kicked in. You backed up, watching the lock go from horizontal to parallel, and stepped to the side. You caught your breath, swung your fist and connected knuckles to nose cartilage.
“Jesus, Y/N,” Dean held a hand to his now bloody nose, “what the hell?”
“Dean!” you jumped into his arms, your eyes swollen from crying, and wept into his shoulder.
“I didn’t know, I th-thought you were goin’ to k-kill me too,” you sniffled into his navy and green flannel.
“Kill you?” Dean held you at arm’s length and looked at you with such concern, “Y/N, why would you think that?”
“Dean, I need to tell you something, and you’re goin’ to think I’m crazy, hell,” you laughed to yourself, “I think I’m goin’ crazy.”
“Look at me,” Dean lifted your chin gently, “ain’t nothin’ you can tell me that is goin’ to make me think that.”
After Dean successfully lifted you towards him from the top of the lockers and out the locker room windows, you raced to the parking lot. You began to rattle off every detail of those images and the painful migraine, Dean never interrupting. He was so calm. You waited for him to tell you that what you saw was just a figment of your imagination. That what you saw, what you felt with each vision, never happened. Instead, Dean asked you if you had ever had one of these visions before, how long were you getting migraines, had you ever smelled rotten eggs in your house, did the lights flicker, and his list just kept getting longer and more exasperating. You never noticed that he had pulled out his cellphone and sent a quick text.
“Dean!” you snapped at him, “What would any of that have to do with what I saw?”
“We need to go see if they are alright, please, I just need to know my parents are okay.”
Dean sighed at the incoming text, fidgeted with his steering wheel, refusing to look you in the eyes. He finally looked up at you after you huffed more than five times, aggravated with his silence.
“You can’t go home, Y/N,” he whispered, “you can’t ever go home.”
“What are you sayin’, Dean,” you swallowed a lump of despair, “Dean, what do you mean I can’t go home?”
“They’re dead, Y/N,” Dean pulled you into his strong arms, his father’s leather jacket, wrapped around your shaking shoulders, “my dad’s there now with Sammy.”
“Why would they be at my house, Dean?”
“Because, Y/N, this is what we do, it’s what we know,” Dean couldn’t believe he was about to tell you about the “family business”.
Dean’s cell phone began to ring after he told you everything; every detail of his life up until they moved to your hometown two years ago. It was the longest they stayed in one place, his father finally coming to terms with how his sons needed an education. “It’s my dad,” he raised the phone to his ear, “Yes’sir,” Dean nodded, “she’s safe, yes’sir, okay.”
“Dean? you looked up to him with wide, Y/E/C, eyes, shell shocked, “What now?”
“Now, Princess, you come home with us, and we’ll take care of everything,” Dean grabbed your hand and caressed small circles with the pad of his thumb across your skin, “Let me take care of you.”
“You’d do that,” you asked him, a small smile appearing on your lips, and you quickly let it drop, “why would you do that for me?”
“Because, Y/N, you’re my best friend, I love you, I’m in love with you,” Dean shrugged, “have been since you helped me with that book report on Cider House Rules.” You couldn’t believe what was happening; your world was falling apart and your best friend just admitted that he loved you.
And then he quoted The Great Gatsby again and your heart did what you could only in your highschool years of knowledge classify as a backflip, right there in your chest.
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”
“Let me be your eyes, Y/N,” Dean kissed her, “let me help you feel again.”
Yes, after one episode, I did it. I wrote a Russell Shaw fic. I know.
You can't serve in the same unit with somebody without getting pretty close. She managed to survive around him until a couple of years ago. And when she hears about their brother-in-arms troubles, she heads that way to help out. Of course, Russ beat her to it. And now she just can't make herself leave without seeing him.
Pairing: Russell Shaw/OC (Andi)
Word Count: 2759
Warnings: A little angst, a little smut, a little more angst and some fluff thrown in here and there for good measure 🙂
Dividers by the always amazing @firefly-graphics
Andi hesitated a moment before knocking. She could still walk away, pretend she hadn’t ‘accidentally’ found him. She’d be better off. At least her heart would be.
She knocked anyway.
He opened the door cautiously, eyes quickly taking her in, then scanning the area before landing on her again. His smile widened slowly, and he stepped back, gesturing with a tilt of his head for her to come into the room.
She couldn’t help grinning back at him, waiting for him to put his gun on the table before he grabbed her into a bear hug that she answered with equal enthusiasm. “Hey, Russ.”
He moved back, beaming into her face. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s been – what – two years?”
“Almost. How are you?”
Russell pulled out a chair and gestured for her to have a seat. “I’m good. Well, my arm’s a little sore, but I’ll live.” He handed her a beer from the mini-fridge and sat down across the table from her. “So seriously, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”
Andi opened her beer and took a long swallow. “Heard about Doug. Of course, by the time I got here, you already had it taken care of. Stopped by his place, he told me where you were staying – I just took a shot that you were still here.” She nodded towards his arm. “I heard you caught a bullet. Did you see a doctor?”
Russell rolled his eyes a little and nodded, answering with a cheerfully gruff tolerance. “Yes, mom, I saw a doctor. Antibiotics and everything, don’t worry. ‘Course I went through Horizon, the locals get all bent out of shape when there’s a gunshot injury.”
“Good. I know how you are. I can just see you still out on the job, wailing on bad guys with your one good arm.” She let her smile fade. “So you met up with Colter. How’d that go?”
He smiled. “Good, I think. Cleared the air some. At least he doesn’t still think I killed our dad.” He leaned back in his chair, those candid green eyes of his taking her in. “It’s really good to see you, Andi.” He took a swig from his bottle. “So what are you up to these days?”
“Actually, I’m heading to Fort Worth. I start a job there next week. I’ll be running system security for a computer software company down there.”
Russ gave her that crooked, disarming smile that never failed to make her heartbeat pause for a second. “You always did have that sexy nerd thing goin’ on. That’s awesome, really.” He sat forward, bracing himself on his forearms. “Think you can handle that, sitting behind a desk all day?”
She smiled back at him. “Hell, yes. I’m ready for a quiet life. I’ve had enough gunfire and chaos to last me the rest of my days.” She rose to her feet and tossed her bottle, helping herself to another beer. Russ nodded as she waved it at him, and she grabbed one for him, setting it in front of him as she sat down again. “What about you? When are you gonna give it up? You’ve been talking about opening that little brewery for years now.”
“I’ll get there someday. I don’t know, if I’m not in the middle of somethin’, I just get – antsy.”
Her expression grew more serious, and she looked down at the table. “Yeah. Gotta keep moving – because if you hold still long enough, you might get attached to something. Or someone.” She opened her beer and took a long pull, setting it down and still avoiding Russell’s eyes when he spoke again.
“I’m sorry, Andi.” His voice was soft, barely audible, and he reached out to put a calloused hand over hers. “You have every right to be pissed at me for taking off like I did.”
She shook her head. “We never made any promises. I just thought, after that few days – I don’t know. I thought we had something. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.”
He took hold of her hand, and she looked up at him, the expression in her eyes sending a stab of guilt through his chest. “We did have something. We do. I just – I know I’m fucking bad at this shit.” He ducked his head down a little, peering up into her eyes. “We’re okay, right? You mean a lot to me, I don’t wanna lose – well, whatever the hell this is.”
A smile crept onto her face, and she shook her head. “You and those damn puppy dog eyes. Yes, we’re okay. We’ll always be okay.” She shifted in her chair, partly as an excuse to pull her hand away. There was only so much actual contact she could take without losing what little control she had around him. “So, tell me about what happened with Doug. And with Colter.”
He began to talk, filling her in about the mission to save their friend and his reunion with his brother. His voice always struck a chord down deep inside her, made her feel like her soul was attached to him in some way, and the warmth it sent through her helped soothe the dull ache of longing that it inflicted in almost equal measure.
She was still laughing a little at his description of his exploits with his brother as he headed to the fridge for more beer. He opened hers and set it down in front of her, asking his question as he sat down. “So – is there somebody waiting for you down there? In Fort Worth?”
She tilted her head, one eyebrow raised, a little surprised at his query. “Um – no. Nobody.” She avoided his eyes as she returned fire. “How about you?”
He chuckled a little, a crooked smirk on his lips as he answered. “I make do here and there. I’ve pretty much always had to just make do.” The smirk faded as he looked into her eyes. “Except with you. You’ve always been the one they can’t live up to.”
She bit at her lip thoughtfully, glancing away and then meeting his green eyes head on. “Yeah, and you’re the one I never should have said ‘yes’ to,” she said softly.
Russ ducked his head with a rueful smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.” It was quiet for a minute, then he laughed softly. “Hey, remember that time in Kabul?”
Andi joined his laughter, nodding. “Yep. I was so much smarter back then.”
“Smart-ass. Yeah, and mean. Hurt a guy’s feelings, sayin’ shit like that. Not to mention the knee.”
“That was an accident.”
“Sure, it was,” he teased. “Guess I left you alone after that, though, so – mission accomplished.”
“That was back before I knew you so well.”
“We did start off a little rocky.”
They reminisced through the rest of their beer, then Andi stretched and stood up. “I’m gonna borrow your little boy’s room, and then I want to look at that bullet wound before I go. I’m guessing you haven’t changed the dressing today?”
“Haven’t gotten around to it,” he hedged, and she shook her head.
“Yeah. I figured. Be right back.”
She walked out of the bathroom just in time to see him peel off his t-shirt. “Bad idea, this was a bad idea,” she mentally scolded herself, then squared her shoulders and went to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Pretty sore?” she asked as he grimaced a little at the movement.
“It’s not too bad. I’ve had worse.”
“I know. I’ve bandaged them.”
“Well, I know you’ve got a more gentle touch than Colter, so I’m glad of that.”
She laughed, perching on the edge of the bed beside him and repositioning his arm to examine his wound. “I’m gonna clean this up a little, then I’ll wrap it for you again before I take off,” she said, grabbing an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit sitting beside them. He winced as she worked, as carefully as she could manage. Then she applied fresh gauze and wrapped his bicep again, trying to ignore the feelings that touching him were stirring up inside her. “There. That should hold you for a day or two. If you’re careful in the shower.”
She raised her head, and the look in his eyes made her pulse skip. “Thanks,” he said softly, and she nodded.
“You’re welcome.” He was still staring at her, so she busied herself putting the supplies back into the kit, until he leaned a little closer, breathing her name. He reached to brush her hair back from her neck, and she felt goosebumps bloom all over her body as his fingers touched her skin.
“Andi. Stay tonight.” He nuzzled his face into her hair. “Please.”
She leaned her head into his, her voice barely there when she finally spoke. “Damn you, Russ.”
He pulled back, letting his hand move to the back of her neck as he brushed his lips over hers. “That’s a yes, right?”
Andi laughed softly. “Yes, that’s a yes.”
He made a triumphant little face that made her giggle, then whispered, “Thank God,” before he kissed her for real.
He felt warm and solid beneath her hands as they roamed the muscular expanse of his back, his scars beneath her fingers a violent history, a unique braille that only those who have lived that life could read. She knew a lot of those scars intimately, had lived through them with him, had survived those events at his side. Remembering how close they had come to not making it home made this moment all the more intense, and she clung tightly to him as he laid her back on the bed.
He finally raised his head, her lips reluctantly parting from his, and he reached for the hem of her shirt, bracing himself on his good arm to help her work it up and over her head. She rolled slightly to give him access to her bra, and that joined her shirt on the floor as she laid back. His eyes roamed over her almost reverently before he bent to kiss her again, her breasts crushed to his chest as he rolled to his back, holding her close.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he muttered against her lips, then groaned as she sat up, his erection trapped underneath her. She grinned, circling her hips against him before moving down to straddle his thighs as she reached for his zipper. “Bad girl.”
“Or is it - ‘good girl?’” she teased, laughing softly as he sighed in relief as she unfastened his jeans. “Feel better?”
“Feels okay. Could feel better,” he coaxed, and she slipped her fingertips into the waistband of his boxers.
“Such a whiner.” She pulled his boxers down and playfully swatted the side of his hip, waiting for him to lift up so she could pull them down to his knees. She bent to kiss the head of his cock before sucking it gently into her mouth, humming as he threw his head back into the pillow, swearing softly. She worked him deeper and deeper, finally sucking hard as she pulled off to look up into his glassy-eyed gaze. “I missed you, too.”
He moved quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and flipping her to her back again, hands busily unfastening her jeans, bending to suck a nipple into his mouth and teasing at it with his tongue. She buried her hands in his hair, back arching a little at the sparks of pleasure he sent through her. He tugged her jeans and panties down, leaving her for a moment to rid her of them completely and finish kicking his off as well. Then he crawled back up between her thighs and dropped a kiss to her mound, looking up with a wicked grin before moving down further.
God, he remembered every tiny thing that drove her mad, and in no time he had her writhing beneath him, her hands gripping his hair as she begged and called his name again and again. She flung her arms wide when she came, and before she stopped pulsing and shuddering, he moved up and pushed inside her to the hilt.
“Jesus, fuck, Russ!” she cried out, clutching wildly at his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck, holding himself in deep and riding out her orgasm. When she finally began to relax, he kissed the soft skin of her neck and throat, then finally her lips, their breath gently mingling as she calmed.
“Goddamn, that was amazing,” he whispered, and she smiled drunkenly up at him.
“You’re tellin’ me.” She shifted her hips a little, moaning softly. “You feel so good, baby.”
“Yeah? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he murmured into their kiss, and she smiled.
“You’re so full of yourself,” she teased, and she felt his lips curve into a grin before he lifted himself up to look down at her.
“What a coincidence, so are you.” She giggled, then gasped as he drew back and drove deep, rocking into her with a relentless, delicious rhythm that stopped them both from speaking coherently. She wrapped her legs around his hips, meeting each thrust, clinging to him tight as their moans and sighs filled the room. She came hard, digging her nails into his back as her muscles seized, and after a few more frantic strokes, he joined her with a loud moan.
She held him, fingers combing through his hair as they laid there recovering, determined to enjoy every second they had together. She could deal with the reality of after when she left tomorrow. He stirred, his breath warm on her neck, his lips gentle as he kissed her there. “You are staying the whole night, right? So we can do that again?”
She smiled. “Yeah, I’m staying all night. You’re so needy.”
He chuckled, nipping at her before moving to roll to his back. “When it comes to you, I am.”
She didn’t bother reminding him that he could remedy that situation. That conversation was a hopeless circle, so she ignored the thought and rolled to her side into his waiting arms.
He was quiet the next morning, watching her dress as she readied herself to leave. She was avoiding his eyes, and he felt that familiar pang of guilt that he lived with every day for the pain he knew he brought her. Someday – someday he’d get to the point of being able to live with himself without escaping into dangerous, adrenaline-filled missions, but he had no right to expect her to be there when he did.
He crawled out of bed, pulling on his boxers and walking up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him, a reluctant sigh escaping before she turned to face him. “Well, I guess I should hit the road. Long drive.”
He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, then bent to kiss her softly. “Sure you’re okay to drive? Not like we got a lot of sleep last night.”
She looked up into his eyes and smiled. “Worth it. I’ll probably get a room somewhere partway, don’t worry about me.” He smiled back, kissing her again, this time until she finally put a hand to his chest and pushed away. “Okay. Gotta go.” She turned to grab her jacket, slipping it on as she moved towards the door. “It was really good to see you, Russ.”
“Great seeing you, too. Just be careful.” She nodded and opened the door, turning back as he spoke again. “Next time I see you, you’ll probably be with some great guy you’ll meet down there, all happy and settled down.”
She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, her gaze lingering on his face one last time. “Nah. I’m not much for making do. I’ll probably just keep waiting for the real thing.” She raised a hand in a little wave and headed out the door, and he stood staring at it for a time before turning away.
After a long, hot shower, he stood at the bathroom counter removing the plastic he had wrapped around his arm to protect his bandages. He looked up and met his reflection’s gaze in the mirror, and they stared at each other for a few long seconds before he frowned at himself. “Fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered, hitting the switch to turn off the light and leaving the room.
Written for Jacklesversebingo2024. Prompt for this one is 'drenched in sweat and blood but never looked hotter.' Hope you enjoy!
The last time Andi showed up on Russ's doorstep, he was more than happy to see her. This time is different. But he never could stay mad at her for long, and making up is the best part.
Pairing: Russell Shaw x OC (Andi)
Word Count: 3835
Warnings: Just a little smut and fluff, non-lethal injuries
Andi sat in the car outside the cabin, fingers clenched around the steering wheel as she expelled a tense breath between pursed lips. He was not going to be happy, but she had already decided it was worth it. He’d just have to deal with it.
She pried her fingers loose and got out of her car, loading her bag on one shoulder and heading for the door. She lifted her chin, then knocked briskly before stepping inside.
Russell came out of the next room, his gun held low at his hip, his entire body alert and aware. When his focus landed on her, his shoulders relaxed and he tucked his gun away with a frown. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Andi looked him in the eye. “Heard you were a man down. So I’m here to help.”
He tucked his gun away, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a straight line as he glared at her. “Goddammit, Andi. She called you, didn’t she.”
“Ann? Yeah, she called me. But this was my decision.”
“Well, I’m overruling your decision. Go home.” He turned his back to walk away, but he didn’t get far.
“I’m not leaving, Russ.”
He whirled to face her again, his eyes sparking with anger at her defiance. “You’re a fucking civilian. You’ve got no business getting involved in this.”
“She said one of the guys was out with an injury and your team was going in down a gun. I’m not letting you go in short when I’m this close. So deal with it, Russell. I’m not leaving. You can’t send me home, Horizon hired me for this job. Out of your hands, big man.”
She pushed her way by him, entering the next room where the rest of the team was gathered. “Andi?! Holy shit!” She grinned at the ebony-skinned giant who charged at her, pulling her off the floor in a bear hug. “Come here, baby girl! Damn, it’s good to see you!”
She was laughing as he set her down. “Hey, Sweets. Good to see you, too. Hey, Seeger,” she said to another former teammate, who gave her a one-armed hug and friendly smirk, returning her greeting.
Sweets shoved at the shoulder of the younger man beside him. “This is Conner.”
Andi smiled and nodded. “Hey, Conner. Nice to meet you.”
“Didn’t tell us Andi was comin’ with us, chief,” Sweets aimed at Russell, who was still glowering.
“Didn’t know. Now if the reunion is over, can we get back to business?” Russ turned his back on them, smoothing the map out flat on the large table. Sweets glanced at Andi, who rolled her eyes, earning her a smirk and a nod from the big man as they gathered around the table.
Russ went over the mission details, pointing out entry points, expected resistance and their plan of attack. “Our objective is to capture Salazar. End of story. They want him alive. So we do what we have to. We’re not looking to take anybody else in, and we do what we have to do to grab him and get him out of there. Horizon will handle clean-up, we just do our job and get the hell out.”
The team listened as he outlined the mission in a little more detail. “Salazar is a big dog in the cartel we’ve been targeting for the last year. He bought this little Texas hideaway to meet up with his mistress on the sly, and the intel is that he doesn’t normally bring too many men with him, likes to keep it on the down low. Horizon wants Salazar first, and DEA can have him when they’re done.”
After a couple of quiet questions and discussion, they separated to gear up. Andi pulled her vest from her bag and strapped it on, her eyes straying to Russ as he was doing the same. He hadn’t even looked at her since their first altercation, and she clenched her teeth with a sigh, forcing her emotions down as she finished getting ready. She’d fight with him later.
They loaded up into two jeeps, Andi crawling in the back of the one Russ was driving with Sweets in the passenger seat. It was a long, quiet drive, about 45 minutes to their destination, everyone tense and silent. Finally, Russ stated, “We’re about 5 minutes out,” and Andi steeled herself, focusing on the job ahead.
“Hey, Sweets – I don’t suppose…” she started, and he turned to her with a grin, reaching into a pocket and handing her a stick of her favorite cinnamon gum. “You never let me down, Sweets,” she smiled, and he nodded.
“I got your back, girl.”
Russ pulled the Jeep to a halt, putting it in park and shutting off the lights. “Okay, we’re on foot from here,” he said as the other vehicle pulled in behind him. They all piled out, Russ giving orders in a clear, quiet voice. “Sweets, you and Andi take the back, Seeger and I go in the front. Conner, you watch the perimeter. Everybody’s coms are good?” Everyone nodded. “Okay, let’s get this son of a bitch.”
The group moved almost silently, finally emerging through the trees on the south side of the large lake house. Russ moved in close to Andi, leaning to speak softly in her ear. “Be careful.”
“Always am,” she reassured him, then headed off with Sweets to the back of the house towards the lake.
Several minutes later all hell broke loose. Salazar hadn’t been meeting his mistress at the lake house this time around. He was meeting with his next-in-command, seven of them, and things got ugly.
Russell came into the hallway with Salazar in tow, held between him and Seeger, a bag over the prisoner’s head. Russ was swiping blood out of his eyes from a cut on his forehead, the result of an unfortunate meeting with the butt of a rifle. Three men lay dead or incapacitated behind them, and Seeger raised his gun to take out a fourth as they pushed towards the front door.
Sweets and Andi finished off a couple more men before rushing out the back door and heading around the building, guns at the ready in case any more cartel goons showed up. Her eyes had just landed on Russ’s bleeding face when a shot rang out from a nearby window, and she hit the ground hard. “Andi!” Sweets shouted, firing a shot at their assailant, and Russ stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as he turned to look.
She raised her hand, groaning in pain, forcing out the words. “M’okay – hit my vest.”
“She’s okay!” Sweets called out, and Russ felt his heart start beating again.
“Conner! You and Seeger get him to the Jeep and let’s get the fuck out of here!” Russ ordered, heading to help Sweets get Andi to her feet. “Goddammit, Andi – can you walk?” he asked, and she nodded, wincing in pain, glad for their assistance as they hurried away from the house. They made it back through the trees and to the Jeeps, Seeger and Conner already backing out with Salazar tied down in the back seat. “Sweets, drive.”
He nodded and climbed behind the wheel, and Russ helped Andi into the back seat, sliding in beside her. “Sure you’re okay?” he asked as they pulled out, and she nodded, still grimacing in pain.
“Fuck, that hurts,” she managed, and he looked down, his frown deepening.
“If your vest took the hit, why are you bleeding?” He worked at the fastenings on her vest, clenching his teeth at her grunt of pain as she helped him remove it. The shoulder of her shirt was dark with blood, and Russ pulled out his knife, slicing from the sleeve to the neck of her shirt, pulling the front down and leaning over her so he could see her injury. She looked down, squeezing her eyes shut as he turned on the overhead light. There was a large splinter of wood embedded deep in her shoulder, right below her collarbone. “Must have caught a ricochet. Shit.”
“Didn’t even feel it until now.”
“We’ll take care of that when we get back to the cabin,” he said, shutting the light off again, putting an arm around her and letting her lean into his side. He pulled the corner of his jacket up and wiped at the blood on his forehead, then let his head drop back against the seat with a shaky sigh. Too close. Too fucking close.
When they finally got back to the cabin, Russ helped Andi get out and turned to Sweets. “You three mount up and take Salazar in, get him locked down. And if you see Ann, you can tell her we’re gonna have a talk about the quality of their intel,” he growled.
The big man nodded, then looked hard at Andi. “I’m good, Sweets. Promise.” He gave her good shoulder a squeeze, then left them to climb into the other Jeep beside their hooded captive. Andi watched them pull away, then turned towards the cabin, ready to get off her feet and find some whiskey.
“Yeah, let’s get you inside, I need to check you out,” Russell said, and she shot him a brave attempt at a smile.
“Always the sweet talker.”
They entered the cabin, and she sank down on the edge of the old sofa, trying like hell not to groan in pain. Russ was already digging through the cabinet for the medical supplies, coming back with a med kit and then heading to the bathroom for a stack of towels. Next was the almost-full bottle of whiskey that sat on the table, and Andi grabbed it from his hand, taking off the lid and lifting it to her lips, taking several swallows.
“Easy, there, hardcore,” Russell said, gently taking the bottle from her. “Need some of that for – uh – medicinal purposes.”
“That’s what I was using it for.” She looked down as he examined the chunk of wood in her shoulder. “Can you get it out?”
“Yeah, it looks pretty solid. Just didn’t want it falling apart, leaving pieces in there to get infected.” His eyes searched hers for a moment before she looked away and nodded.
“Okay, let’s do this. You need some stitches.”
“I’m fine, let’s get this done first. This is gonna have to go.” He took his knife and sliced through the strap to her grey sport bra, pushing the fabric out of the way. His jaw worked as he contemplated the best approach, finally taking out his multi-tool and readying the pliers as Andi grabbed one of the clean towels. “Okay, hold on.” He got a good grip on the wood and pulled, fast and smooth, sending a fresh rush of blood to soak into what was left of Andi’s clothes. She held the towel to the wound, wincing as she put pressure on it. Russ laid the huge splinter aside and looked down at her, dreading what was coming next. “Okay, now comes the fun part.”
She nodded, laying down on the sofa and letting Russell tuck towels around her shoulder. He grabbed the whiskey, reaching out for her to take hold of his left hand. “Ready?” She squeezed his hand in answer, and he poured whiskey into the wound, clenching his teeth as her back arched up in pain, uncontrollable whimpers escaping her lips as she gripped his hand so hard he felt the bones creak. Slowly, she eased back down, her chest heaving as she regained control. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, watching a tear escape the corner of her eye.
“I know – not your fault.” Russ gave her a couple more minutes to recover, then helped her sit up.
“I think we should do a couple of stitches.” She agreed, and he pulled a chair up close, taking care of the stitches quickly with a practiced hand.
She watched his face as he finished bandaging her shoulder, meeting his eyes when he finally looked up. “Thank you, Russ.”
“Yeah, any time. Let’s just not do it again, okay?” He put a hand to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone. She smiled softly, dropping her gaze, and he pulled his hand back. “So – got a clean shirt in your bag?” She nodded, and he stood up, pushing the chair back and reaching for her duffle.
She winced as she tried to remove her ruined shirt, and Russell shook his head. “Here, let me help.” He pulled the bloodied shirt over her head, then slipped a finger under the remaining strap of her bra. “Want this off, too?”
Andi nodded. “Yeah, it’s ruined, anyway.” Russ reached around behind her, his brows bunching with an impatient frown.
“Who invented these fucking things? How the hell are you supposed to get this off?” he grumped, and Andi smiled.
“Just hand me your knife,” she said, taking it from him and slicing through the fabric, letting him help her slip it over her good shoulder and off. He tossed it disdainfully across the room, then turned, his eyes going directly to the large bruise blooming in the middle of her chest and spreading up the inside slope of both breasts.
“Goddammit, Andi,” he swore quietly.
“You’ve gotta stop swearing at me, Russ,” she teased, but he didn’t smile.
“Swearing is caring.”
“That is not how that saying goes.”
“It is for me. When it involves you. What if he would’ve missed your vest? Or had armor-piercing rounds?”
“He didn’t. And I thought we didn’t ‘what if’ after missions. That was always the rule.”
He finally looked up at her, his jaw working a little before he spoke. “You never came that close to being killed before. And you never should have been there, Andi. You should have been safe at home, not in the line of fire.”
Andi rolled her eyes, her temper flaring. “What about all the jobs you do that I don’t even know about? I hardly ever hear from you, Russ. A text here and there, or a random late-night phone call - other than that I’m in the dark all the time. I never know when you’re going on a mission, or if you’re hurt, or dead. I have that hanging over my head every damn day, but you can’t handle one job where you actually got to see the outcome in person, where you got to verify that I’m okay?” The silence still rang with her anger for a few seconds before he answered.
He sighed, guilt in his eyes as he looked away. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”
Andi nodded, skepticism clear on her face. “Heard that before.” She closed her eyes for a second, then pulled her clean shirt over her head, letting him help her get the injured arm in the sleeve. “How about we don’t do this right now?”
Russell bit at the inside of his lip, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
Andi rose to her feet, gesturing towards the chair. “Okay, your turn. Sit,” she ordered.
“Kinda bossy when you’re in pain,” Russell grumbled, plopping down on the seat. She ignored him, going to the bathroom and letting the water run until it was warm to wet a washcloth. She grabbed the med kit and set it on the table, then put a hand on top of his head and tilted it back a bit.
“Gotta clean you up a little before we do stitches.” He was drenched in sweat and blood, but – fuck it all – he’d never looked hotter. Those damn gorgeous green eyes of his were staring up at her with a look she couldn’t handle at the moment, so she avoided looking into them as she gently cleaned his face and down his neck where the blood had run down onto his shirt. “You should just take this off. It’s a mess.”
He stripped out of his shirt and she took it from him, dropping it to the table along with the now-filthy washcloth. “How many?” he asked.
Andi tilted her head, examining the cut carefully with one hand. “I think we can get by with four.” He nodded, and she turned to ready the needle.
She turned back to him, pausing for a moment before saying, “Okay, easiest way to do this is…” She straddled his lap, looking into his eyes. “Ready?”
“Yep, go for it,” he answered, his voice low and subdued. He let out a little hiss as the needle first went in, then settled, letting his hands rest on her hips. She took her bottom lip between her teeth as she started the second stitch, and he let out a quiet moan.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Not why... never mind.”
She had finished off the second stitch and was getting ready for the third when he leaned up and nestled his face into her neck. He placed a slow, lingering kiss just below her ear, his breath warm against her skin, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the flush of heat through her body. “You’re making this kinda hard.”
“You’re makin’ it hard, honey,” he said, his voice raspy with want, and Andi dropped her head back with a soft laugh.
“Can you please just be good for a couple more minutes?”
“I can be good for a couple of minutes – after that I’m gonna be great,” he mumbled, still nuzzling at her neck, and she shook her head with a wry smile as he went on, his tone very persuasive. “I’m not bleeding anymore, can’t we just finish this later?”
She sighed in frustration at him, even though she couldn’t keep the smile from teasing at her lips. “No. We need to finish this now. Sit up and behave.”
His hands were smoothing over her hips, giving a little squeeze here and there, but she managed to finally put in the last two stitches, tying off the last one and turning to drop the needle to the table.
As she turned back, he slipped a hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a scorching kiss. She fought it for a moment, her anger still stinging a little, but damn it – she never could resist him. He hummed in approval as she responded, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt. “Can we take this back off?” he asked softly, and she looked into his eyes with a doubtful expression.
“We can, but – it’s so ugly.”
Russ shook his head as he helped her remove her shirt. “No, it’s not ugly. It’s a message. It’s saying, “Fuck you, asshole! You tried to kill me, but I’m still here – and I’ve got a fabulous pair of tits.” A slow grin curved his lips as Andi laughed in spite of herself, and he leaned in to kiss her again, one hand sliding up to gently cradle her breast in his hand, thumb brushing over her nipple. She shivered, her hands roaming up his sides and around to explore the muscled expanse of his back. He nudged his nose against hers, watching her eyes flutter closed as he teased at her, leaning close to whisper, “Bed?”
She opened her eyes and shook her head. “I wanna ride.”
He scraped his teeth over his plump bottom lip and smirked. “Whatever you want, honey.”
She pushed back and rose to her feet, letting him stand up as well as they both shed the rest of their clothes, kicking their boots to the side and out of their way. Russ sat back down, eyes glowing as he watched Andi move close again, reaching his hand between her thighs and groaning as he slipped two fingers up into her silky heat. She pushed down until he was knuckle-deep, lips parting as she let out a shuddering breath. She whispered his name as he stroked his fingers over her sweet spot, her legs beginning to tremble. “Need you now,” she managed, and he pulled his hand back, holding his cock steady as she slowly took him in, hands braced on his shoulders.
“So good,” he groaned as she settled fully on his lap, then leaned forward to kiss him hungrily. His hands wandered over her body, caressing and kneading at her warm skin, his hips rising to meet her as she began to move on top of him.
He loved nothing more than to watch her when she was like this, her body smooth and sinuous as she rode him. She was getting close, and he slipped his fingers down between them to rub her clit, moaning along with her as she squeezed hard around his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer, either, and he began thrusting his hips, driving in hard and deep, his other hand gripping her hip for leverage.
She went off like a skyrocket, gasping and then crying out as she came, and he didn’t even try to hold back, joining her with a long, low growl. She rode it out, seemingly forever, finally collapsing with a hard shudder into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat there, his arms wrapped around her, for several minutes before she lifted her head, and he captured her lips beneath his for a slow, gentle kiss. He looked into her eyes, a playful sparkle in his. “Goddammit, Andi.”
She tried in vain to completely smother a smile, but it tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What am I gonna do with you?”
Russell’s smile faded slowly, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t know. But – just don’t give up on me, okay? Don’t you ever give up on me.” She pulled away, putting both hands up to his face, bringing him in close, her whole soul in their kiss, leaving him stunned and speechless for a moment.
“So – where are you off to next?” she asked softly, letting one hand drop to his shoulder as the fingers of the other combed through his beard.
He shrugged, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Not sure. Haven’t heard anything about a new gig, so…”
She ducked her head down, peering up at him until he met her gaze again. “Well, I took the rest of this week off, so I don’t have to be back at work until Monday.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, a smile slowly lighting his face. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know how long this job was gonna take. So – how about spending some time at my place? I have real food, and beer, and a shower with actual water pressure,” she said, tracing his bottom lip with her fingertip, “and really soft sheets.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You hittin’ on me?”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
He grinned, kissing her and landing a playful little swat to her ass. “Well, then, let’s get the hell out of here.”
Hi Jamie, I just watched you on full disclosure and you were great!! You mentioned a fic about soulmates and writing on the skin that both of them can see, and i neeed to read it, so if you have the link or title or anything, pls pls tell me!! Love <3
Hey! Glad you watched, I had a lot of fun (sorry for how posh I sounded omg) and I think that fic is @ellen-reincarnated1967’s Pens, Sharpies, and Promises! Go check it out 😄
If you missed Full Disclosure, you’ll be able to catch up on our across the pond chat with @charliesbackbitches / @bradburydiary and @spnashley in a couple hours (we’ll post the link when it’s up)
Here we go, my first entry for @jacklesversebingo24 🥰 Prompt is 'Dangerous Suggestion.' Hope you enjoy!
Danger is sometimes just in your mind - but Dean is definitely danger of another kind.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Word Count: 1954
Warnings: None really, except Dean in a tux; fluff
The warmth of Dean’s hands seeps through the silky fabric of your dress as he holds your waist, kissing you without warning, and the shock steals your breath away. The deliberate clearing of a throat makes it all stop, both of you looking wide-eyed towards the sound.
“Sir, ma’am – sorry, but you’re not supposed to be in here.”
You don’t have to fake your blush, and Dean glances down at the floor with an embarrassed smirk, expertly fooling the security guard standing in the doorway.
“Sorry, man – we were, uh, just looking for a little privacy, and this door was unlocked, so we just…”
“I understand. But you’ll have to find your privacy elsewhere. This office should have been locked and off-limits.”
Dean nods and takes your hand, leading you out the door as the guard steps aside, and he apologizes once again for good measure as you follow him back to the banquet hall. He parks you next to the wall and bends to whisper in your ear. “Sorry about that. Had to think fast.”
Your eyes slide up to meet his for a second, then you stare back at the floor, unwilling to let him read you quite yet. You nod, responding quietly. “Yeah, of course. At least we didn’t get caught.”
He sighs in frustration. “Didn’t get what we were after, either. So we have to come up with a new plan.” He looks over at the buffet table, cocking an eyebrow at the tempting offerings there. “How about we grab some food and a drink, sit down and figure it out.”
You agree, relieved at the thought of getting off your feet. Your heels are killing you. “Sounds good to me.”
He slips an arm around you, and the muscles in your stomach clench as his hand rests possessively at your waist again. He looks incredible in his borrowed tux, and you are having thoughts that you normally batter into submission with focused research, beer and violence against evil creatures. Unfortunately, none of that is available at the moment, but a glass of champagne can’t hurt.
You claim one of the small tables scattered throughout the room, letting Dean play the gentleman and hold your chair as you sit. Who knew he had that in him? You take a gulp of the bubbly, pop a cheese puff into your mouth, and mentally remind yourself to guard your expression before looking up into those stunning green eyes. “So, now what?”
“Well…” he managed between chewing, “I think I should head for the bathroom.”
You laugh softly. “Okay. That’ll teach ‘em.”
“I mean as an excuse, smartass. I should go, look for an unlocked door so we can duck inside and wait until everybody clears out. Then we pick the lock again, grab that fucking cursed statue and we’re home free.” The amused smile is still on your face, and he can’t resist responding with a slow grin that makes your heart skip a little. “Well, that’s my suggestion. You got anything better?”
You shake your head. “Nope. I think that’s probably the best plan. So – go tinkle or whatever, I’ll guard your baby quiche.”
He stands up, narrowing his eyes at you. “Just so you know, I counted those.” You can’t help but giggle as he turns to go. The man is serious about his food.
He isn’t gone long, sits down and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Okay, we’re good. Just need to wait until the crowd thins out a little so we can get in there without Mall Cop catching us.” He glances down, then glares over at you. “You ate one of my quiche.”
People have finally started to leave, and you are so ready for this night to be over. You had taken as long as possible to eat, each had another drink, strolled around pretending to look at the art on display, but you are officially over wearing heels and trying to act like you fit in with this rich, pretentious crowd.
The guard Dean had dubbed ‘Mall Cop’ is busy manning the door as people leave, so now is as good a time as any to get yourselves settled in for the next hour or two until the place is empty. Dean guides you down the hall, a couple of doors down from the office you needed to get into later, looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear.
“Ok, let’s go,” Dean says, his voice barely above a whisper. He opens the door, craning his neck to look over his shoulder as he urges you past him to the doorway. “Get in there before somebody sees us.”
You step around him, and your eyes grow wide as your hands fly out to brace on the sides of the door frame. “This is a bad idea.”
Dean’s voice hisses in your ear as he pushes you inside. “You agreed to it, sweetheart, now move.”
He squeezes in behind you, pulling the door closed quietly. It’s pitch black and there’s barely enough room for both of you in the tiny broom closet, which is luckily empty of all but a couple of brooms and a mop leaning in one corner. “I changed my mind. I hate your suggestion. It’s a very bad suggestion. A very bad, dangerous suggestion.”
Dean scoffs at your comment. “It’s not dangerous. As long as we’re quiet, they’re not gonna know we’re here. They’ll all clear out in an hour or so, and then we can hit Maitland’s office, get that damn statue and then we’re outta here.”
Your breathing is quickening, your heart beginning to pound. “It is dangerous. I can feel it.”
You feel his hand on your shoulder, his fingers trailing down the length of your bare arm as he chuckles softly. “Afraid to be in the dark with me?” His hand covers yours, and he freezes for a moment, feeling the trembling of your fingers beneath his. When he speaks, the tone of his voice is completely different. “Claustrophobia? But I thought you were okay with hiding out until...”
“I thought it would be a room. Like, a real room, a whole, big room with, you know, room and – and air. Lots and lots of air. Not a tiny death trap. We’re gonna get stuck in here, the walls are going to close in on me and I… I can’t breathe.” Even though you are whispering, your fear comes through loud and clear.
Dean moves both of his hands up to your upper arms, supporting you. “We’re not going to get trapped. All I have to do is open the door, there’s not even a lock on it. Okay?” His voice is gentle as he continues. “The walls aren’t going to close in on you.”
Your trembling continues, and each breath is coming in soft, desperate little whines. “I… can’t…”
He says your name quietly. “Do you trust me?” After a second, you nod, and he gives your arms a squeeze. “Okay. First of all, take off those ridiculous shoes. You need to get comfortable.”
You slip out of your heels, doing what he asks without question, and the cool floor on your bare feet is actually soothing.
“Okay, now just lean back into me.” He moves his hands to cover yours, bringing them up to rest at your waist. “Just relax, feel when I breathe and breathe with me. In – out. In – out. In – out.” His hands stay on yours, holding you in place, grounding you as he slowly guides you out of your panic.
You are tense at first, but gradually you lay your head back against his shoulder and relax against his firm chest, your body responding and your breathing syncing with his. Your quaking begins to calm, and Dean gives your hand a squeeze. “Better?”
You nod as you answer. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
You draw in a shaky breath. “Just – talk to me. So I don’t have to think about where I am.”
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Anything.”
He blows out a breath. “Okay. So – you look amazing tonight.”
You let out a disbelieving little laugh. “Wow, you really are trying to distract me.”
He sputters a little as he answers. “No! Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I should have told you before, but when you came out in this slinky dress and those sexy high heels, I couldn’t get any words to come out. So, I’m telling you now.”
You blow out an incredulous breath. “I – didn’t think you even noticed how I look. Like, ever.” You tilt your head back as if you can look up at him, even though it’s too dark to see. “And you said my shoes were ridiculous.”
“Well, they are. I mean, they can’t be comfortable. But they are sexy, and when you walk, it kinda puts a little extra swing in your step, it’s – ah…” he clears his throat. “Yeah, sexy.”
“Women are used to being uncomfortable just to look good for men.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t need to. I mean, you always look good. Barefoot, in your old jeans, or those cute little cut-offs you wear sometimes. And that old sweatshirt that hangs off your shoulder, that’s good, too.” He leans down so he can speak softly in your ear. “Kinda makes me want to take a bite.”
You’re finding it hard to breathe again. “You’ve never even tried.”
“Well, maybe the time’s never been right. Or maybe I just didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“Wow. And I thought you could see right through me.”
“You’ve always kept your distance, and I thought that’s the way you wanted it.” His thumb is brushing over the soft skin of your hand.
“I thought that’s the way you wanted it. I didn’t think you were even interested in anything else.”
“Shhhhh,” Dean whispers, and you both go silent. Footsteps echo in the hall, then a voice right outside the door makes you jump.
“Did you check the bathrooms?” A distant ‘yeah’ came back in reply. “Good, then let’s get the hell out of here and go grab a beer.”
The footsteps retreat back the way they came, and you let out the breath you were holding. “Just a few minutes to make sure they’re gone,” Dean says softly, and you nod.
After a few long minutes have passed, he finally reaches behind him and opens the door. The dim nightlights in the hallway let you see your way out, and you take a deep breath. “This is much better.”
You start to take a step, but Dean takes hold of your hand and stops you, backing you into the wall.
“You still owe me for that quiche you stole,” he says, his eyes shining playfully. Then he bends to kiss you, gentle at first, then more hungrily as you grab at his jacket to tug him closer. When he finally lifts his head, you are both panting, his eyes searching yours as he waits for your reaction.
“I knew this was gonna be dangerous - in more ways than one,” you tease, and he grins, a touch of relief in his eyes.
“Danger is my middle name,” Dean quips in his best Austin Powers voice, and you giggle, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him again. You smile slyly up at him as you slide out from between him and the wall, heading towards the office that holds your target. “Hey,” he says, and you stop, turning to look at him. He holds out his hand, your shoes dangling from his fingers. “Don’t forget your ridiculous shoes.”
A Cry of Hope: A Family's Journey from the Rubble to Rebuilding 🌟
A Cry of Hope: A Family's Journey from the Rubble to Rebuildi… Hani Yasser needs your support for "Save Hani and His Family: A Campaign to R
War is not just bombing and destruction; it devours our lives, strips us of safety, and takes away all our dreams. My name is Hani, a 26-year-old from Gaza. Despite all the destruction and loss, I still hold on to hope because it is the last thing I have. This is my story and the story of my family, torn apart by war but united by love and resilience. 🌱
Before the War: A Simple Life and Deferred Dreams
Before the war turned our lives into a nightmare, I was striving to achieve my dreams in social work after completing my university studies. I dreamed of contributing to improving people's lives in my community and serving the most vulnerable groups, but the lack of job opportunities in Gaza prevented me from realizing this dream. I had to work as a taxi driver 🚗 to support my large family. It wasn’t what I had planned, but it was the only way to provide for them.
We lived a in a small house in northern Gaza, trying to cope with daily difficulties, but we were together, and that was enough for us.
Then came the war, and it took everything. It turned our lives upside down, and my dreams became like scattered debris. 💔
The War: When Dreams Turned to Ruin
In one moment, we lost everything. Our home was destroyed, and the car that was my livelihood was also wrecked. We fled to the south to escape the bombings, and a tattered tent became our shelter. We now live in a camp where the heat is unbearable , and diseases surround us from all sides. My children and younger siblings live in constant fear 😔, deprived of education and safety. Their childhood was stolen from them, and their daily struggle is to find simple moments of joy in the midst of this destruction. 🎈
Despite all this suffering, hope still shines in our hearts. We believe that with your solidarity, we can rebuild our lives. 🌟
Human Solidarity: Hope in Difficult Times
Despite the distance, we received unexpected support from friends who didn’t know us personally but felt our suffering. One sent us food aid 🍞, and another sent messages of support through social media. These messages and donations renewed hope in our hearts and made us believe that the world has not forgotten our humanity. 💖
Even the support from the local community, though modest, gave us the strength to continue resisting. Some neighbors gave us what they could, offering food and medicine. That assistance was a silent message that solidarity between us can triumph over the horrors of war. 🕊️
Hope for the Future
Hope is what keeps us alive in the hardest moments. One night, I received a message from my brother Salem, who lives in a camp in Greece. He said to me, "One day we will gather in a safe place, and we will live in peace." His words were a ray of light illuminating the dark nights. 🌙
My Family: Resilience in the Face of the Impossible
My Father Yasser (55 years old): He was the pillar of the family, but chronic illnesses have made him unable to work. His health deteriorates day by day, but having him with us is a blessing we cling to. 🙏
My Mother Manal (50 years old): She suffers from diabetes and high blood pressure. Despite needing constant care, her strong will is our source of strength. 💪
My Brother Salem (27 years old): He studied electrical engineering, but had to work as a laborer in a plumbing tools factory. He suffered a severe foot injury, leading to a 70% disability. He decided to leave Gaza in search of treatment and work, and now lives in a camp in Greece. 🌍
My Sister Safaa (23 years old): She is the daily support of the family, working hard to provide food and water for us. 💧🥖
Ibrahim (15 years old): A young boy with a big heart, trying to smile despite all the tough circumstances. 😊
Nasser (7 years old), Bara’a (5 years old), and Adam (3 years old): These children have never known a true childhood, but they try to find simple moments of joy amidst the destruction. Every day they lose a part of their innocence due to the constant fear of bombings and disease. 😢
Our Daily Conditions: Between Poverty and Suffering
Each day in the camp presents a new challenge. We live in a small, dilapidated tent, and suffer from a lack of clean water 💧 and food. Medicines are expensive, and food is scarce. My children can't go to school due to a lack of resources 📚, which increases our psychological suffering. Despite all of this, we try to maintain our spirit and resilience, believing that change is possible with your support. 🌱
Our Campaign Goals: An Urgent Call to Rebuild Our Lives
We now live beneath the rubble, and our goal is to secure the essentials to rebuild our lives:
1. Secure permanent shelter for the family: Build a stable tent to protect my family from the harsh conditions. 🏡
2. Provide medical treatment for my mother and father: Fund treatment to alleviate their suffering. 💉
3. : .Return our children to education: Provide basic educational supplies for the children. 📚
4. Sustainable food support: Provide food for our family on an ongoing basis. 🍞
5. Move the to a safe place: Secure the necessary resources to relocate to a place far from conflict. 🛤️
6. Rebuild our professional lives: Start small projects to ensure financial independence. 🛠️
7. Protect the children from diseases: Secure medical tools and cleaning supplies to protect our children from illness. 🧼
Urgent Appeal
This is not just a story about a family suffering under the rubble; it is a cry of hope and resilience in the face of the impossible. My family desperately needs your support. War has destroyed us, but we have not lost faith in the possibility of rebuilding our lives. We ask you to stand by us in this difficult time, so together we can provide shelter 🏠, treatment 💊, education 📚, and food 🍞 for our children.
Every contribution no matter how small, brings us one step closer to a better life, free from fear and destruction. 🕊
Help us today to protect our future and build a tomorrow full of hope. 🌟
A Cry of Hope: A Family's Journey from the Rubble to Rebuildi… Hani Yasser needs your support for "Save Hani and His Family: A Campaign to R
My campaign vetted at line #5 , by @gazavetters link vetted
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