Hi, I'm Sandra, I Hope to someday meet J2M . I wished I could write fan fics, but I love to read them. SPN addict. 50 year old Taurus. JDM is my bday twin.
Jensen is not driving Baby (1967 Impala) in Tracker (CBS).
I've seen a couple of posts and even the gossip mags saying that it is the Impala from SPN. It's not!
Baby ~ 1967 Impala
Russell's car (below) is a 1965 Chevy Malibu
They do look very similar when looking at them head-on, but see the difference in the headlights, the grill, and the roof? Also, Russell's car is a 2-door. Baby is a 4-door.
From the style of the roof, it also appears that Russell's car might be a convertible. Reference image below.
I would imagine that there is some kind of clause in a contract somewhere that since the Impala/Baby is so iconic to Supernatural, Jensen is not allowed to drive the actual 'Hero' car in other shows. But that's just a guess on my part.
Request: Could you do a Deanxreader where she has always been a strong girl capable of taking care of herself. She is kidnapped by demons and is tortured both physically and psychologically. The boys rescue her but she starts having hallucinations, but in front of the boys she acts like it’s not a big deal. Until one night Dean finds her in a corner in the bunker crying and she begs him to make it stop. When they found a way to cure her, she is more affectionate toward Dean and it’s all fluff?
NO STOP because the other day I realised with the blue outfit and the protection / justice obsession Steve Rogers is a physical representation of Archangel Michael, thank you for confirming and representing this!!!! 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.
Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Bucky x Alpine (platonic)
Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, bitchy boss, secret admirer trope, voyeurism, violence, threats
A/N: We start slowly to get to know them and their backstory. In this part, we will get to know Y/N better.
A/N2: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader
Catch up here: Every Breath You take (1)
Every Breath You Take Masterlist
Bucky smirks when the man raises his hands in surrender. He tried to be a good man, but he couldn’t let anyone hurt you. This man threatened to fire you and called you a dumb bimbo.
“What have I done to you?” Your boss begs while facing a beyond angry super-soldier. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Bucky tilts his head and smirks behind his stocking mask. “You know what you did.” He growls and points the tip of his knife at the man’s chest. “The question is, do you regret your sins?”
“Sins?” He nervously shifts from one foot to the other. Your boss glances around his office, wondering if he can make it past his attacker and through the door. “I don’t know what you are talking about! Do you want money? I can pay you.”
“Money?” Bucky snorts. “People like you believe they get away with everything only because they are wealthy. I won’t let you get away with your sins. If you ever hurt her again, I’ll cut you open.”
Your boss is shaking in fear. His legs are about to give when Bucky wraps his metal hand around your boss’s throat.
Bucky slams him into the wall and leans closer to inhale the fear waving off your boss’s body deeply. He presses the tip of his favorite knife into your boss’s chest, a warning to not mess with him.
“If you ever even look at her the wrong way, I’ll come back and finish what I started today,” Bucky whispers in your boss’s ear. “Y/N Y/L/N is off limits. You hurt her, I hurt you. You yell at her; I’ll make your ears bleed. You touch her…well you don’t want to know what happens if you ever put your hands on my girl.”
“Y/N?” Your boss splutters. “She … I didn’t … it was …a misunderstanding. I was stressed and maybe I lost my countenance…I’m sorry. It will never happen again.”
“Good.”
Bucky drops his hand from your boss’s throat. He steps away and looks at the man messing with you up and down. “Don’t make me come back.”
“I won’t,” your boss sniffs. He tugs at his now wet pants, ashamed that Bucky scared him so much that he wet himself.
“If you tell her about tonight, you will die. Y/N can never know,” Bucky points his knife at your boss. “This is your first and final warning.”
Before your boss can reply, Bucky is gone. Like a shadow, or a nightmare you wake from. Your boss sinks to his knees and starts to cry.
“Morning,” you chirp as you walk inside the building. You greet the receptionist and smile as they wave back. “How are you today, Rodney?”
Rodney and you fall into an easy conversation. You giggle at something he said but freeze when your boss walks toward you and Rodney. He looks a little pale this morning and you wonder if he’s sick.
“Good morning,” your boss nods at you and forces a smile on his face. He clears his throat and drops his gaze. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior over the last weeks. I was stressed, but this is no excuse for what I said.”
“Oh, I—” You’re taken aback by your boss's sudden change in demeanor. What has gotten into him? This is so unlike him, and you wonder what caused his behavioral changes. “I…I should head to my desk. Have a good day.”
“You accept my apologies, right?” He wrings his hands and pleadingly looks at you. Maybe someone reported him to HR, and he is trying to make amends now. “Please, I need to hear it.”
“We all make mistakes sometimes,” you hastily reply. “I accept your apologies, Sir. It was very nice of you to admit your mistake. Again, have a good day.”
You walk away to start the day. There is no time to analyze your boss’s behavior. Whatever made him change, it must’ve been traumatic. He looked scared when he looked at you.
Bucky smiles. “She looks happier today, Alpine,” he explains to his cat. “I think her boss got the message and apologized. Good for him. I’d hate to pay him another visit and to bring more knives.”
Alpine looks up at his owner and meows loudly. “I know,” Bucky sighs and pats the cat’s head. “I didn’t like hurting that man. Though, it had to be done. He would’ve hurt our girl again. I had to stop him.”
While you snuggle into your favorite blanket and switch the TV on, Bucky leans back in his armchair and sighs happily. The cameras he installed in your home make things so much easier for him.
He can watch you in every room via the monitors hanging on his walls. Well, in almost every room. James Buchanan Barnes is not a creep. He didn’t install a camera in your bathroom.
“Do you think we should send her some flowers?” He wonders. “Or is it too soon?” Bucky rubs his chin. “No. Flowers are nice. She’ll be over the moon knowing that there is someone out there, admiring her beauty and grace.”
Alpine stretches and purrs. He presses his paws into Bucky’s thighs before lying back down. “Food was good, huh?” Bucky looks down at his cat. The white furball purrs loudly. “Your belly is full, and now we can watch our girl.”
You yawn. It’s getting late, but you are too tired to get up from the sofa. Rolling to your side you decide to sleep on your couch.
Your eyes flutter shut, and you snuggle into your favorite pillow. Sleep consumes you soon after, and you dream of a more interesting life than the one you are living at the moment.
The annoying sound of your alarm wakes you from your dream. You blink your eyes open and sigh. Just one more day and then it’s weekend.
As you sit up on your bed you frown. Last night you fell asleep on your couch. You’re sure you didn’t get up and walk inside your bedroom.
But here you are, tugged in bed and there is even a glass of water on your nightstand. You usually forget to put a glass on the nightstand, and you didn’t set the alarm last night either.
How can this be? Did you sleepwalk? Maybe you were so tired you forgot that you went to bed last night.
You shrug. It’s time to get up and start a new day. There is no time to waste to find out how you got into your bed last night…
Summary: You've known the Winchester family since you were very small. You love Dean, you always have and you'll do anything to help your friend no matter the cost. You've helped Dean get his singing career off the ground but now that he and his wife, Lisa have moved back to Kansas and settled into a massive property you have started to notice some changes. Can you help him without ruining your relationship?
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Lisa Braden-Winchester, you/ Y/N, Jody Mills, Castiel Novak, Ketch,
Warnings: Heavy angst, domestic violence (male receiving), friends to lovers, slow burn, some fluff, and lots of language (but it's me so you probably knew that already).
Chapter Warnings: legal b/s made up by me, Lisa being horrible, Ketch being horrible, fluff and feels.
A/N: some of the things described in this fic come from what I saw with the experience a friend of our family had with his ex. Violence at the hand of a significant other is very hard to spot sometimes, but if you (no matter gender) are experiencing abuse please reach out. Many towns/ cities have a local group that can help you but if you don't know who to reach out locally or are concerned about privacy you can go to this website they have an option for backing out and deleting your browser history if you need the extra security. Please don't suffer alone.
@deans-baby-momma thanks for your help with this one!
| Masterlist | TSHK Masterlist
Word Count: 1,967 (look at that word count!)
The images for the cover and dividers are from IG and Supernatural Wiki and edited by me.
On his break between classes Sam called Y/N the next morning, and found that she was feeling better and had gone home and painted two canvases the night before.
“I forgot you painted.”
“Well, Sam that’s because I kind of did too,” she chuckled, “I never really sold many and then I dated Trevor – who told me that I was just slopping paint on a canvas and that wasn’t really art and didn’t make me talented so I stopped,” she huffed, “Sam – Dean needs our help to get away from Lisa. I don’t know how but she beat him up. He has giant bruises on his side.”
“Y/N,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead, “If Lisa was beating him up don’t you think he’d put an end to it, or ask me for help?”
“No,” she answered too quickly. “He's Dean. First of all, we both know he would never lay a hand on her. As rough as everyone thinks he is, Dean has never hurt a lady – not that I’m calling Lisa a lady,” she added, the disdain clear in her tone. “Dean is a man’s-man, he’s tough and rugged – he’s not gonna just tell people that his little wifey is beating him up – it’s not a manly image.”
“You might be right about that part,” Sam chuckled. “Lisa’s a bitch ok. I know. But she’s not that violent. It would take some force to hurt Dean that much. He fell, end of story.”
“Why do I feel like you didn’t just call to talk me out of my thoughts and check on my head?” she asked, attempting to change the subject.
“Oh, well I just thought I’d let you know that Ma is looking for some help at the shop. Liz is moving because her husband got a new job in another state and within the next week or two, Ma’s gonna need help. It’s 28 to 30 hours a week. I’m fairly sure she’d hire you over anyone,” he offered and Y/N could just picture his shrug.
“I’ll definitely keep that in mind Sammy,” she replied softly, an edge to her voice that he nearly couldn’t handle. “I um, I gotta go. Someone’s at the door.”
“Ok, take care.”
After signing for the package Y/N settled in to go over the final paperwork from Dean’s management company – so many pages of rules and NDAs that she had to go over. She’d signed some generic ones but this was the final formal agreement.
The following morning Y/N was heading into the studio, feeling lighter and happier than she had in a while. After scanning her signature pages and dropping the packet at the local FEDEX store she’d gotten the first part of her payment deposited.
She’d replaced the money she’d used from savings the past couple months and would be fine for another two or three months just with what she had in her accounts at the moment.
Her chipper mood disintegrated almost as soon as she walked through the door – crew and staff wouldn’t make eye contact and she could have sworn the makeup assistant ran from her. Y/N told herself she was being paranoid but she turned the corner to her office and found that her key wouldn’t work in the lock.
She quickly found someone she thought could help her get in but he told her she needed to speak with Ketch before he could allow her into that office.
“Ketch what the fuck is going on?!”
“Oh, good you’re here early – we can get this finished before filming begins.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can’t have you terrorizing people, so I have to let you go.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Yes,” he answered curtly, “Lisa explained about you coming to her house and threatening her and then beating on her husband,” he tisked, “and that’s just not behavior I can tolerate around my staff and crew – their safety means too much to me.”
“What are you even talking about?” she questioned.
“You didn’t commit the acts of violence on studio property but with another staff member witnessing it, I just have to let you go. You’re a risk to everyone’s safety, especially Lisa’s and she polls far higher with the male demographic than you, so it just makes sense to end this situation before it gets any worse.”
“I’ve never laid a hand on Lisa!” she yelled, “Oh I’ve wanted to slap her a few times but I would never do such a thing and you know it. You’re firing me to cover up the fact that you’re fucking her behind her husband’s back! You know I’ll catch wind of it and tell him, that’s what this is about right?”
“That’s ludicrous,” Ketch scoffed.
Y/N knew him well enough to know that he only used that word when lying and being caught in the lie. Suddenly things became clear to her, this was, in fact, a good thing. It was the push she needed to go out of her comfort zone and she simply replied, “ya know what Ketch, that’s fine. I quit and I want all my belongings and my last paycheck. I expect my PTO to be included because I’m taking those three weeks I’ve built up and I’m not returning.”
“You can’t quit, I fired you,” he scoffed.
“That’s absolutely ridiculous! You cannot fire me for that bullshit because I can sue the studio for wrongful termination and collect unemployment on your stupid asses.”
Ketch’s eyes went wide, he clearly didn’t know that she could collect unemployment whether she was fired or not and he began to grovel about how he’d give her good references and some other bullshit about filling in back pay for her last two missed weeks of work, a “bonus,” he called it.
She was let into the office and gathered up the few things that belonged to her and left, heading directly to Mary’s shop.
The book store part wasn’t open yet but the coffee shop was. Liz took her order and served her.
“Hey, I heard you’re leaving the shop?”
“Yeah, Rob got a job in Texas and it will mean I don’t have to work, which is good because we’re expecting twins.”
“Oh, congrats,” Y/N stood to hug the younger woman, “That’s so exciting. Do you also have family there?”
“Rob has an older cousin, he’s actually going to work for him. Eventually he’ll take over the whole operation because Rob doesn’t have anyone else to hand things down to.”
“Wow, that's big.”
“Rob’s got a business degree so it’s right up his alley. He’s so excited and I’m happy not to have to worry about how to afford diapers.”
“Especially with two butts to change,” Y/N replied and they both giggled.
“I’m terrified but excited.”
“Oh, I bet,” Y/N nodded. An unfamiliar feeling crept into her gut making her realize she wanted a baby.
‘This is the most inopportune time to start feeling this!’ she screeched internally.
“Oh, I have customers. Let’s do lunch one of these days before I go, I got another week of work.”
Y/N watched several people walk in and begin placing orders and setting up their own little work stations in the far corner of the shop.
Mary got there a bit later and after some discussion they had a plan. Y/N’s position would typically be Tuesday through Friday, she would work seven to seven and a half hours and occasional weekends if needed.
Y/N wanted to save a day for creative endeavors such as painting, as well as leaving time set for therapy and it worked well for Mary since she wanted Friday off as much as possible to prepare for weekend family things or to have a break before working the weekend shift, Mary believed in being hands on at the shop even though she had very capable staff.
Y/N didn’t talk to Mary about how things went with Ketch because she was worried she'd mention it to Dean, and that would get him in even hotter water with Lisa; because he’d confront her for sure. Y/N carefully typed out her story; she had been tracking every interaction with Ketch ever since things had started to go sour with him; she figured she’d keep a log just in case he crossed the line and she needed proof. She discussed everything about Ketch with Sam over the weekend but decided to leave things be; because she didn’t want to deal with him anymore.
When Dean stopped by the store on her first shift Y/N couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The boy who taught her to drive, to fish, and how to change the brakes, tires, and oil on a car was still there – still showing up to support her.
They chatted a bit before Dean explained that he was there to pick up a special book he’d ordered and she went to look for it; unfortunately she was unable to find it before Dean had to leave.
“I’m sure Mary already received it,” she smiled sadly at Dean’s somewhat disappointed face.
“It’s not your fault,” he assured, “just text me and I’ll swing by and grab it,” he told her with a little wave as he headed out.
That night, when she laid in bed, Y/N had an idea of where to look and wrote herself a note to check in the morning.
She successfully located the book within 20 minutes of clocking in the next day and sent Dean a text.
Hello Dean, I found the book you ordered. I will leave it on the top shelf next to Mary’s desk so you can pick it up at your earliest convenience.
Y/N had tried to keep the text to a business-like tone and not use any of the normally friendly banter she would with Dean, she felt as though she was walking on a bed of nails trying to keep the peace with Lisa. However, after not hearing back from Dean for more than two days she began to worry; she settled on going to his house after she got off work.
“Mary, can I ask a favor of you?”
“Always sweetie,” Mary answered, lowering her reading glasses to the desk, “what’s up?”
“Um, I know I haven’t been here long at all but is there a chance I can skip lunch and head out early today?”
“I don’t see a problem with that,” Mary murmured as she glanced over her calendar book, “there’s a couple conferences being held nearby so lunch time might be quite busy today; having you here during the whole rush may be beneficial. Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, I just,” she figured she shouldn’t lie to her boss and one of her only friends so she simply stated, “I found that book Dean ordered and I texted him to let him know, but he hasn’t come by. I just thought I’d swing by and drop it off and check in with him before Lisa gets off for the day.”
“That would be really nice of you, he hasn’t answered me today either. Thank you, Y/N.”
“No, thank you Mary. I’ll let you know what Dean says and how he’s doing,” she promised before hurrying out to assist with the coffee orders.
Summary: You've known the Winchester family since you were very small. You love him, you always have and you'll do anything to help your friend no matter the cost. You've helped Dean get his singing career off the ground but now that he and his wife Lisa have moved back to Kansas and settled into a massive property you have started to notice some changes. Can you help him without ruining your relationship?
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Lisa Braden Winchester, you/ Y/N, Jody Mills, Castiel Novak, Ketch,
Warnings: Heavy angst, domestic violence (male receiving), friends to lovers, slow burn, some fluff. Language! (you should just assume this with me. LOL).
Chapter Warning: Dean realizes his friend is struggling financially so he offers some help, Lisa finds out and isn't pleased, reader accidentally catches a glimpse of the marks left on Dean (he has a flashback of the event which is italicized between the two dividers if you want to skip over that part).
A/N: some of the things described in this fic come from what I saw with the experience a friend of our family had with his ex. Violence at the hand of a significant other is very hard to spot sometimes, but if you (no matter gender) are experiencing abuse please reach out. Many towns/ cities have a local group that can help you but if you don't know who to reach out locally or are concerned about privacy you can go to this website they have an option for backing out and deleting your browser history if you need the extra security. Please don't suffer alone.
A/N2: this chapter fills my jacklesversebingo square for "Adulting" will be in bold.
@deans-baby-momma thanks for your help with this one!
Word Count: 1,904 | Masterlist | TSHK Masterlist
The images on the cover are from IG and Supernatural Wiki and edited by me. Dividers were also created by me.
The following week Y/N found herself at home sorting through furniture and clothing she could list on the local marketplace to sell; she managed to sell a desk and a chair and an ottoman that same day.
With help from her neighbor, she was able to load them into the back of her SUV and within an hour she was back home checking her accounts.
“Just enough to cover the mortgage for two months,” she smiled happily as she glanced over her accounts once more. “If I cancel the landline, and my gym membership I’ll be good on utilities and food too, I think,” she muttered to herself as the doorbell rang.
She was surprised to see Dean at her door. “Hey what brings you to this neck of the woods?” she grinned at him as she opened the door for him.
“Thought I’d come check on ya,” he smiled and held out a bag of groceries.
She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “What’s this?”
“Just some stuff that’s helpful and tasty,” he shrugged and took the bag to the kitchen.
It was such a simple thing but he’d gotten her a pack of chicken, ground beef, some cheese, eggs, and several boxes of pasta, and butter. Things he knew she could make many meals from – Sam must have mentioned something.
“You should have told me sooner,” he whispered.
“I didn’t want to be disrespectful toward your wife, Dean.”
He rubbed his hand up and down the back of his neck, “I shouldn’t have said that to you and you know it.”
“Thank you, Dean,” she hugged him tightly. “You didn’t have to do this,” she sniffled.
“I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t help when I can,” he rubbed his hand up and down her back. “You helped me out plenty of times as we were growing up,” he remarked.
She had to doubt his words because in her mind it was always the other way around but she kept quiet just the same.
“When I first started this whole music thing people thought it was some escapism thing or that I just wasn’t in the right mind and was avoiding growing up,” he shrugged, “you never told me that; always helped me navigate the whole adult thing, even when you were still a kid.”
“Yeah, well adulting is hard,” she replied and they both had a laugh.
“Hey, so I was thinking – how are your photography skills?”
“Probably shit since I haven’t touched a still camera in years,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “Why?”
“I’m almost done with the new album and there needs to be some cover photos.”
“You want me to take photos for your new album?” she asked incredulously.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have the first clue about what I’m doing.”
“So?” he shrugged, “I want it to have a raw open feeling like it’s just me and my bestie hanging out.”
“I guess we could give it a try.”
“Great, what are you doing tomorrow?”
A quick check of her calendar and work email told her that she had nothing to do, Lisa would be doing the interview and the entertainment section – yet again.
They set up a time to meet and planned out where to go and as Dean went to leave, he dropped a roll of cash on her counter.
“What is that?”
“You need something to live on.”
“No, you already bought me groceries.”
“Sweetheart, are you worried I cannot risk losing $500?” Dean stared her down. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ll do the photos and you’ll get paid real money for that. This is just a gift from a friend.”
“Dean, I can’t accept this.”
“Fine, it’s gas money so I don’t have to worry about you tomorrow. Go buy some books or do something frivolous with it if it makes you feel better but I’m not takin’ it back.”
Friday afternoon Y/N and Dean sat down in his home office for a zoom conference with “Dean’s people” to go over the photos.
Once they were narrowed down, his publicist asked if she could photoshop them to lessen some of his eye lines and trim him up.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Y/N replied. “For several reasons, but the biggest being that Dean is an extremely handsome man and I don’t think there’s a reason to hide his beauty.”
His agent jumped in, “For what it’s worth I think she has a point. We do not need people out there making internet posts about how old he looks in person versus the cover art.”
“Dean doesn’t look old,” she spat back without meaning to. “He’s perfectly gorgeous as he is and nobody should hide that. The fact that his career is going so well at his age is a testament to his talent and looks. I mean women totally swoon over him without makeup and filters, I see them practically melt in the grocery store – trust me touch ups are NOT needed.”
“Besides, that would defeat the raw look I wanted for these photos,” Dean interjected.
Y/N found herself zoning out for a moment as the higher-ups bickered for a moment.
“Fine, no physical edits of Dean but can we see that third image in black and white or a sepia?”
“That can be done,” Y/N replied, waking her laptop back up and sending the black and white image first.
“Ooh I like this,” she heard someone say from Dean’s laptop.
“I’m sending a third option,” she called out as she sent a roughly edited image – black and white except for the green of Dean’s eyes.
Scooting back into camera view, “What do you think of that? It needs some refinement but,” she was cut off.
“That’s the one,” the publicist remarked, delightedly. “Let’s go with the others and you get this one with the green eyes touched up and it’s going on the marketing,”
Y/N headed home shortly after the meeting to work on the image and get it turned in as quickly as possible.
What she hadn’t noticed was that she passed Lisa’s car as she left their home;on the other hand, Lisa had of course noticed Y/N leaving and she made it her mission to let Dean know just how unhappy she was.
On Sunday she arrived at Mary’s to help prep for family dinner. Mary knew that weekend was Y/M/N’s birthday and she always made sure to invite everyone over and have a big family dinner so Y/N wouldn’t be alone. Over the years Mary had made it her mission to make sure that Y/N had someone around on holidays, and the anniversary of the fire – hoping to soften the lonesomeness and guilt just a little.
The two women prepared a feast and, as usual when Lisa was actually attending, her and Dean were late. They both had a scowl on their faces when they arrived but Y/N watched Dean and she knew after only a few minutes that Dean was in pain, not angry.
Thankfully it was a pleasantly warm day and they ate out on the patio with the umbrella up, because when she needed a moment, Y/N could excuse herself and step inside, under the guise of filling the iced tea pitcher.
She decided while inside to step into the restroom and freshen up. She was surprised when she rounded the corner to see Dean, his shirt lifted as he checked himself out. A couple of giant purplish black bruises on his ribs caused her to gasp.
Dean dropped his shirt and turned away from her – embarrassment flooding his body, “I didn’t know you were still in here.”
“Dean,” she stepped closer, " What happened?”
“I’ll be fine. I just tripped down the steps last night,” he tried to avoid looking at her as he lied.
(flashback)
The previous afternoon…
“DEAN!” Lisa screeched from the front door just before it slammed shut and he heard the lock click into place.
“Hi beautiful,” he greeted with a smile, “what’s up?”
“Don’t you what’s up me!” Lisa shouted, “what was that bitch doing in my house?”
“Who?”
Lisa crossed her arms over her chest, clenching her jaw so tightly Dean thought she might crack a couple teeth.
“You had Y/N here while I was at work?”
“We were on a zoom meeting for the album photos and art – I told you she was helping with that.”
“I didn’t realize it meant you’d be here alone with her.”
“We weren’t alone, we were on a zoom call with six other people Lisa,” he sighed, “for the billionth time there’s nothing between her and I. We are friends and she was helping me out.”
“I think I’ve been plenty clear about my feelings about her,” growled Lisa as she threw a vase at him.
“Lisa, I don’t want to fight with you!” he held his hands out in an attempt to keep her at bay.
Lisa simply stalked toward him; backing him into a corner in the kitchen, “you cheat on me with her?!” she screamed as she punched him in the gut.
“No,” Dean wheezed as he tried to turn from her – this opened his side for three more blows before he dropped down to his knees and covered his face and head.
She kicked him several times and the final blow he eventually figured came from the meat tenderizer – he could see the pattern of it in one of the bruises when he woke up later that night.
He’d spent Saturday cleaning the mess up, apologizing to Lisa, and trying to ice his side as much as possible so he’d be fine by the next day.
“Dean Winchester, that’s a bold-faced lie and we both know it,” she grit out. “That violates the rules, Dean, you promised to always tell me the truth. I want to help you but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s gone on.”
“It’s nothing ok?! Just drop it. I fell and landed on the rocks out the back patio.”
“By the pool?”
“Yeah.”
She swallowed her next words and took the tea outside to the table – her appetite was completely gone at this point but she didn’t want to upset Mary so she picked at her food and stuck around until Dean and Lisa left.
As soon as the leftovers were put away, she told Mary she was getting a migraine and had to leave.
“Mama? Is Y/N ok?”
“I think it’s the stress Sammy, sorry, Sam. Has Dean told you anything?”
“No more than she has. Things aren’t good at work, she’s been looking for a new job,” he admitted.
“Why hasn’t she told me?”
“She doesn’t want to worry you.”
“I have a part time position at the shop she could have. It’s only 28 to 30 hours per week but once Liz is gone, I’m going to need to fill her position. Tell Y/N you know it’s open. Might not be as good of pay as the studio but it’s some guaranteed hours. She’s struggled so much I can’t sit back and watch her lose her house.”
“I’ll call her tomorrow. I’ll use the excuse that I knew she didn’t feel well and I wanted to check in on her.”
Summary: When you hear someone say that you are clingy, you tried to give your boyfriend the space that he needs.
Pairing: Boyfriend/Avenger Steve Rogers x Female Reader
Word count: 2204
Warning: Angst
A/N: I don’t think I will have time to post something lese before the end of the year. I wanted to write something where the reader is perceive as clingy against Steve. I am not sure that I did a good job but hopefully you will like it.
After the last mission, Tony decided to celebrate. It was a very hard one, and he needed it to destress. The other Avengers were quieter but still decided to go.
Having Steve Rogers as your man meant that you had to go to events with him. Sometimes, you really were going just for him. You knew that he wasn't a fan of the attention and would prefer not to go where they were to many people. You knew that he liked your relaxing presence. He told it to you several times. You believed him. Of course you did. He would never lie to you, right?
Well, you weren't sure anymore. You were in the ladies' room when you heard two women starting to talk. At the beginning, it seemed meaningless until you heard Steve's name.
"I don't know how he does it. She is so clingy. Did you see how she is attached to him by his arms like she can't breathe without him?"
"To be fair, I would do the same if I was in her shoes."
"No, you wouldn't. You are not pathetic. You would let a man talk to someone without you for five minutes."
Your heart started to shrink. Were you really like this? Weren't you letting Steve be himself and talk to who he wanted?
"He must be suffocating. I am sure he doesn't tell her because she will cry. She seems like she would cry about everything."
"Well, if she does, that must be so annoying. I am sure he wouldn't like to be around someone who cries all the time with what he is dealing on a daily basis."
"True. Let's see if we can have a chat with him."
"Well, we both know it will be you that he would be interested in talking to."
"Maybe, but you are my wingwoman."
"I prefer when you call me your best friend."
They laugh before leaving. You stayed a bit longer in the cubicle. Your eyes were filled with tears. You needed to get yourself together before going back to the party. You took your phone to look at some videos of animals. You knew that it would help to give you back a smile.
Steve found you at the bar, asking for another drink. He asked for a whiskey while you stayed there. He looked at you, surprised. You didn't kiss him hello. He took your hand.
"I missed you."
"I missed you too."
You weren't really convincing. Your voice was tern but broken at the same time. Steve didn't like that. He didn't have time to ask you anything that Bucky was coming to join you.
The rest of the evening, Steve wondered what he did wrong. You weren't touching him, kissing him or really talking to him. It was so strange that he was taken aback by it. You never were like this. You were a physical person and he liked it.
Three hours later and the party started to slow down. Bucky asked Steve what happened for you two, not to be against each other. Steve didn't know what he did, and he pained him to see you like this.
Even when you went back to your share bedroom, it didn't feel the same. He tried to hug you and kiss you. You let him do it but didn't reciprocate the love and warmth. You could have. It was only the two of you now, but you felt guilty.
Things cool down. You went back to your normal self. Steve tried not to think too much about what happened. He tried to make you talk, but you told him it was nothing. He knew that you would talk to him if you really needed it.
However, when the Christmas party arrived, you didn't feel like it. It was really strange. Steve always saw you all smily, happy and singing when the holidays were coming. You were the one who was the most enthusiastic of them all. You, who didn't like parties, always loved this one. Tony always had nice surprises, and you loved the trees.
As soon as you arrived in the room full of guest, you acted distant and almost cold, telling Steve that he should talk to people without you. He got worried. He didn't t like that at all. Things were better but now, you acted once again strangely. He wondered if you wanted to break up with him. He couldn't understand why. Things were well before the last party. He remembered exactly when your attitude changed, being hurt by it. However, if you wanted to leave him, you had to tell him now. He would not go through another party without you.
He took your hand and put you aside. His heart was beating so fast, afraid of your response.
"Please tell me what's going on. Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad?"
"I don't know, but you are not yourself. It's like you forgot that you love me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you want me to talk to other people because you want to meet new ones without me? You are not touching me, and don’t talk to me. Do you want to break up with me? You need to tell me now."
"Oooh."
You didn't imagine he would think that you didn't want him anymore. Now you didn't know how to tell the things.
"Please tell me what happened. What did I do? One minute, things are fine, and the next, you don't want to be with me. You can tell me anything. I won't be mad. I just need to know why."
You looked at your hands like if they were the most interesting things in the world. Steve urged you. He couldn’t leave without you and even less, let you leave without knowing what happened.
"Please, What did I do?"
You can't let him think that it's his fault when it's entirely yours. You never took his personal space into consideration. You knew that now.
"I didn't realised that I was selfish. You don't like to be touched."
Steve was surprised by your answer. He imagined all the answers except this one.
"What are you talking about? Where does it come from?"
"Hum, nowhere."
"Baby, what's going on?"
You lost it, frustrated that he didn't understand. You did that for him, not because you were happy about it.
"I am giving you the space that you need. I am too clingy. I am always in your arms and touching you, and nobody can talk to you without me being here. I thought this was what you wanted."
You didn't look at him. You were too ashamed to not have realised it by yourself.
Steve was baffled. He didn't know where you heard this, but he definitively didn't like it and was angry. You were his sweet and loving girlfriend, soon to be fiancée if you accepted his proposal on Christmas day, and you deserved to touch him as much as you wanted.
"Y/N, look at me."
You put your head up, tears filling your eyes. You hated to be this sensitive. He didn't deserve that. He took you in his arms, kissing your temple. He made sure that you were looking at him.
"Do you remember when we started to date?"
You didn't understand what it was coming from but nodded.
"You were always touching me. It was soft, subtle, and sometimes fast but always there. In the beginning, it was sometimes unsettling because I wasn't used to it. However, I never said anything because I realised that you did it without thinking. It's just who you are. It's natural. It's a second part of you, and with time, I realised that it actually made me feel better and that when I didn't have my daily dose, I was becoming irritated and angry."
He didn't stop to look at you, being sure that you looked back at him.
"I need this as much as you do. I am sure that the person who said that was just jealous to not be able to talk to you or I alone. A lot of women want to talk to me, and they don't like that I have only eyes for you."
He kissed you softly.
"I need you to keep them away from me because there is no way that I am going to lay eyes on someone else, not when I have you by my side."
"Steve..."
You loved him so much and wished that he was yours and only yours. However, you could see that the women in this soirée were each one more beautiful but especially more badass than you.
"Baby, I mean it. I only have eyes for you and your beautiful soul. Nobody can compare to you."
He kissed with again, but this time, like if his life depended on it. He hugged you, kissing your head before he took your hand, interlinking your fingers.
"We are going to show them who is the most clingy between you and I."
During the full evening, he kept you close to him, even closer than usual. Your back pressing against his chest while his arms circled you. There was no way that he was letting you go for a second, even accompanying you when you needed to go to the ladies room. He will not let some gossip make you think that he didn't need you as much as you needed him.
When he felt you tense in his arms, he searched for what made you feel that way. He saw two women. He recognised them. The brown one tried to talk to him several times at the last party, flirting with him.
He caressed your arm before turning you. He kissed you, putting you closer to him if it was even possible. His hands rammed your body, and you couldn't help a moan leave your lips. Steve and you always have been discreet about you relationship even if you were always touching each other, you never really kissed and even less touched each other like this in front of anybody. When he broke the kiss, he looked over your head, seeing that the two women weren’t here anymore.
"What happened to you punk? Not that I didn't enjoy the show."
Steve kept his eyes on you. He wanted you to feel all his love.
"I just needed to kiss my wife."
You froze for a second before moving from his body.
"Your what?"
Steve was like a deer caught in the lights. He looked at each member of the team that had been gathered around you for a moment. All of them, nodding. It wasn't how he wanted to ask you, but it was too late now. He couldn't ask you to wait. His eyes found yours.
"Y/N, it's not how I planned this. I know you don't like the attention, but I think it's too late to take a step back now. When I first met you, you were just this bubbly young woman who was helping the team and was giving compliments to everybody in the hope that it would brighten their day. When you accepted to go on a date with me, I couldn't contain my excitement and tonight even less. You are the purest woman I ever had the pleasure to meet. You are the kindest and most empathic of us all. When I am not with you, I am counting the minutes that separate us. I can't imagine my life without you, and I don't want to. My dear Y/N, will you marry me?"
Your eyes were feeling with tears. You wanted to be his wife so much that you couldn't believe it. He was such a perfect man. You jumped into his arms to kiss him. The entire team and the other guests applauded.
"I suppose it's a yes."
He let you put your feet on the ground.
"I am sorry, I don't have the ring, it's upstairs."
Bucky took a box from his jacket, giving it to his best friend. Steve looked at him, surprised but smiling. He could always count on him even without any knowing it.
"I could feel that you would blow it before Christmas. You almost did it like ten times."
Steve blushed. He was so impatient to propose to you even with what was happening. He opened the little box, revealing a small ring that looked like if it was from the 40s. You gasped, tears now dropping on your cheeks. It was the most beautiful ring you ever saw in your life. Steve knew that you were trying to make him feel welcome in this new millennium, but you never wanted him to feel out of his time and like if his life before didn't matter. You told him that you wished you could have met him when he was younger, before the serum.
"Steve, it's so beautiful."
He put the ring on your finger before kissing you. You weren't thinking about what happened a few moments ago or your insecurities. This man was about to be yours for the rest of your life.
You and Steve slept together a couple of weeks ago and, though he said he would, he hasn't called you since. Harsh words from your best friend lead you to accept that he just doesn't want you in that way.
Content Warning: Frat!Steve x Reader, Frat!Sam x Reader (platonic... for the most part), partying, suggestive language, flirting, mention of alcohol and weed, mention of sex, arguing, slut shaming, angst, insecure!reader, self-deprecating thoughts, softie!frat!bucky, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissies.
"You're crazy," Sam says with wide eyes and a dopey grin as he watches you swallow down the shot. "I'm pretty sure that counts as a double."
Shrugging, you smile back at him. "What can I say, Wilson? I'm a pro."
"That, you are," He says, shooting you a wink. "And I've gotta say, baby, I'm proud of you. I wasn't expecting you to actually do it."
"Listen, I'm a simple girl," You tell him as the music booms around you in the dimly lit kitchen. "Someone pours me a shot as kindly as you did, I'm not gonna reject it."
He glances around before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. "I mean, I gave you a choice, didn't I?"
Remembering his earlier words, you bite your lip. "I can't kiss you, Sam."
"Why not?" He whispers, looking you up and down.
Instinctively, your head turns to the side where you see the reason. Steve fucking Rogers. The asshole that made you think you had a special connection, only to completely ghost you after your one night stand. Though you hate him, you can't kiss one of his best friends. You're not that petty. He's chatting to a couple of girls, and you wonder if he's gonna take any of them home tonight. Asshole.
"I just can't," You say with a shrug.
"Alright, alright, I'll back off," Sam says, before his eyes light up. "Tequila?"
The two of you end up in the middle of the kitchen, sprinkling salt onto the backs of your hands. Once you're done, you hold your hand out to him and he holds his out to yours.
"Ready?" He asks you, to which you nod.
He licks the salt off your hand and you do the same to his, before quickly downing the shots of tequila. With a wince, you slam the shot glass back onto the counter and take the wedge of lime, sucking it for a few seconds. Just as the acidic liquid hits your tongue, Sam pulls the wedge from your mouth and puts it into his own.
"Fuck," You grimace, shaking your head. "Is it pathetic that I'm not used to tequila yet?"
Sam takes out the sucked lime and shakes his head, patting your shoulder. "You'll get there, baby. You'll get there."
After the shots, you and Sam talk for a few more minutes, laughing and dancing to the music. Before you can lean in and suggest you get another drink because it hasn't hit you yet, you feel a hand tightly gripping your arm.
Turning around, you see your best friend. "Hey, Annella!"
She has a stern look in her face as she pulls you backwards. "Come with me."
Frowning, you glance at Sam before turning back to her. "Can I just finish talking to-"
"Come with me, now," She cuts you off with no bit of humor on her features, immediately sobering you.
"Okay," You say, patting Sam's chest. "I guess I have to leave you, Wilson."
He gives you a nod. "I'll find you later."
Annella drags you over to the side, rage in her eyes. "What the heck, Y/N?"
Utterly confused, you take a step back. "What's wrong? What did I do?"
"Why are you flirting with Sam Wilson?" She asks you, clearly infuriated.
"Wha- flirting? I was just talking to him," You insist incredulously, wondering where this came from.
"Oh, please; I'm your best friend, I know when you're flirting," She says with an eye-roll. "Really? In the middle of a party where everyone can see you? With Sam fucking Wilson: the biggest whore on campus?"
"Will you calm down? Sam and I are just friends!" You argue. "And who cares if everyone can see?"
With a huff, Annella folds her arms across her chest. "You're acting like a slut, Y/N."
Her words cut right through you, making your eyes widen. "Why would you say that?" You ask her lowly.
"Because I'm your friend and I care about you," She claims. "I don't want you to flirt with guys like fucking Sam Wilson because I know what people will think!"
"Who cares what people think?" You ask her with a frown. "Sam and I were just having fun. If someone has a problem with that, it doesn't affect me at all and I couldn't care less."
"Are you kidding me? You sound so..." She trails off, shaking her head.
"I sound so what, Annella?" You challenge her with a raised brow.
"Slutty. You sound slutty," She spits with clenched fists, before muttering, "No wonder Steve didn't call you back."
That line hurts you deep.
"How could you say that?" You ask her, utterly shocked.
"He's right there, Y/N, he can see what you're doing," She says with narrow eyes. "He can see you flirting with one of his best friends; of course he doesn't want you!"
A few people around you have noticed that you're arguing, looking at you with odd looks and whispering between themselves. Having had enough of Annella, you storm out of the apartment, making your way outside where you can get some fresh air.
There's a short wall where a few people are smoking near, and you take a seat on it with a sigh. Is Annella right? Did Steve ghost you because he thinks you flirt too much with other people? Namely, his best friend? Does he think you're a slut, too? Oh, God. Did he sleep with you just because he knows you're easy?
"What's on your mind, sugar?" A gentle voice comes from the cold, dark night, like a blanket wrapping around you in the middle of a snowstorm.
You look to the left to see Bucky Barnes standing with a concerned look on his face and a blunt between his fingers. Sniffling, you shake your head. "Nothing."
He sits down next to you, frowning. "Which asshole up there has got you crying, hmm? Point him out to me and I'll break his legs."
"I don't cry over assholes," You claim, though that's clearly a lie.
"Then what's wrong?" He asks you, nudging your shoulder with his. "Wanna smoke?"
"No thanks; I've been drinking," You reply politely, before letting out a sigh. "I had a fight with my friend. She- she said I act like a slut."
"What?" Bucky scoffs, blowing out smoke. "Why did she say that?"
"I wasn't even flirting with Sam, but she thinks I was," You say with a shrug. "I was just doing a couple of shots with him. He even asked me to kiss him and I said no."
"Sam asked you to kiss him?" Bucky repeats with narrow eyes.
"Don't tell Steve," You implore, before your shoulders drop. "Not like he'll care, anyway. And that's what Annella said - she said Steve didn't call me because he must think I'm a slut, too. I don't even care that he didn't call me, I swear. I was just shocked that she said that."
"Well," Bucky begins, processing your words. "She was very wrong. And unkind. I mean, sure you're a slut, but she didn't have to come out and say it-"
"Hey!" You cry, hitting his arm.
"Kidding!" He exclaims, wrapping his arm around you in a tight hug. "Don't pay any attention to her words, alright?"
His comforting embrace makes tears spring into your eyes. "It's just that... Steve was actually really nice to me. No boy has ever been that nice to me. And he was saying things... I guess I'm an idiot for believing him. But he was so sweet and gentle; I thought for sure he'd call me. But he didn't. I'm such an idiot."
"Hey now, don't say that," Bucky scolds you gently, rocking you back and forth. "You're not an idiot."
"He was so nice," You whisper, shaking your head. "And he made me cum like, three times."
"Oh. Okay," Bucky says with wide eyes.
"Three fucking times! Even if it was just one, I'd have been amazed," You admit. "But he gave me three before he even came once!"
"Well, that's our Steve. He's a giver," Bucky says with a grimace. "And for what it's worth, I can say as his best friend that there's no way he thinks anything bad of you."
You cling to his chest, hoping he's right but suspecting that he's only being nice. He's probably had to mend multiple girls' hearts that have been broken by Steve.
Speaking of the devil, Steve himself exits the building to see you and Bucky huddled together on the wall. He walks over when he sees Bucky whispering into your ear and stroking your hair, concerned about your wellbeing.
"Everything okay here?" Steve asks, making you tense up in Bucky's arms.
Bucky turns to him. "Yeah, man."
Steve gives him a nod as if to say, 'You can leave now,' and Bucky promptly stands up before patting your back and walking back towards the building.
Sitting on the wall with his legs on either side, Steve looks down at you. "You okay?" He asks, his voice low and gravelly.
"Mhm," You mumble, hoping you don't do something stupid like cry in front of him.
"I saw Annella yelling at you," He tells you, frowning.
A dry laugh leaves your mouth. "Yeah."
"What about?" He pushes, unable to kill his curiosity.
You shrug, "She thought I was flirting with Sam- which I wasn't."
Steve slowly nods. "She wants Sam to herself, or something?"
"No; she just said it was making me look like a slut," You admit with a mutter. "And she said that's why you-" Stopping mid-sentence, you inwardly curse yourself. Fuck. Why would you say that?
"I what?" He questions, confused.
"No, it's nothing," You insists, giving him a tight-lipped smile.
"I wanna know what she said," Steve says persistently. "That's why I what?"
You look down with dejection. "She said that's why you didn't call me - but I swear, I really don't care that you didn't call me-"
"Y/N-"
"Seriously," You insist, lying through your teeth. "I just mentioned it in passing. She asked if you had called me since we slept together, and I said no - and I don't mind at all that you didn't. You don't owe me anything."
"Y/N," Steve says firmly, shutting you up. "Give me your hand."
You frown. "Which one do you want?"
Your question makes him chuckle and he shakes his head. "Any. Either. Both."
Holding out both hands to him, you watch with confusion as he holds them in his.
Steve takes a deep breath. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."
The phrase makes your entire body cringe as you recoil backwards. You've been rejected before, but you don't think you can take it from him. Not from Steve.
"It really doesn't matter," You insist, trying to pull your hands out of his tight grip but failing miserably. "I wasn't expecting anything, I swear."
"Can I just say what I wanna say?" He asks you, raising a brow.
"Please, Steve, it's fine," You beg, standing up with you hands still being held hostage by him. "We don't have to talk about it and you don't have to explain anything; we can just forget anything ever happened."
"Oh, my God," Steve mumbles, looking up at you. "You are absolutely terrified of me rejecting you."
You feel nauseous. With a shaky breath, you whimper. "Can we just drop this, please?"
"Look at me," He says firmly. "Sit down."
With your heart racing, you reluctantly do as he says. Fuck. Here we go.
"Listen to me, Y/N," Steve says, his voice and eyes softening. "I really, really like you."
You suck in a breath. "But?"
He lets out a gentle chuckle. "Okay, there is a 'but'-"
"Please, let go of me-"
"But it's an absolutely miniscule 'but' and it's entirely fixable!" He claims.
"Steve-"
"You gave me the wrong number."
You stop pulling away. Your face drops. Your brows knit together. "What?"
"I called the number you gave and some old man picked up," Steve tells you. "I figured you gave me the wrong number on purpose because you didn't want me to call you."
"Oh," Is all you can say.
"Yeah," He mumbles, letting go of your hands.
"Oh," You repeat with widening eyes. "So you did try to call me?"
"Yes, I tried to fucking call you," He says with a laugh. "Bucky told me to just DM you but I thought you didn't wanna see me again because of the whole wrong number thing."
"What were you- why were you calling?" You ask him, your voice small.
"I called you the next afternoon," He informs you with a soft smile. "I was gonna ask you if you wanted to check out the Christmas Market with me."
"That sounds nice," You mutter, feeling both foolish and utterly ecstatic. "I would've said yes."
"Yeah?" He nudges your shoulder playfully.
"Absolutely," You insist, feeling butterflies in your stomach.
A smile grows on his lips as he leans even closer in. Slowly, he kisses you, causing flashes of the perfect night you shared to pop up in your mind. You feel gentle explosions of nerves and excitement as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, stroking the side of your throat with his thumb as you remember all the things his fingers did to you that night.
He pulls away after a few minutes, an accomplished look on his face. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at six. Make sure you're hungry."
Your heart skips a beat at his words, but somehow you remain cool and collected. "Wait, I-"
"See you tomorrow, beautiful," Steve calls out as he gets up and walks away.
Oh, what a night.
steve masterlist
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Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, the thing is they hurt each other a lot, most of the time without meaning to.
A/N: We pick up right where we left off. Trouble tries to get ready to go out on tour, Dean sets off alarms.
Series Masterlist
It wasn’t fair, you were not being fair. But that didn’t change that sick feeling crawling up your throat. Face burning, you looked at Dean who was pointedly not looking at you. You counted the deep breaths he took, his nostrils flared less the longer you sat in suffocating silence.
You should have said something.
You had no idea how to take it back. It wasn’t even what you said, it was how you said it, so derisively.
You wanted to disappear.
The traffic on the freeway only seemed to get worse the longer you sat. It had been a good day, even with Dean’s snippiness over the Rolling Stone article. Why did you have to open your big mouth?!
You bit the inside of your cheek, you were not going to cry. You knew how guys felt about girls crying, it’s a cop out, or a pathetic ‘get out of jail free’ card. Despite knowing girls usually cried out of frustration rather than actual sadness. You didn’t want to come off as pandering or fucking weak.
“Look—- I don’t want to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But, we’ve all seen how well the press and the fans have responded to you two. Is this something I need to put the brakes on? Because I need to know before we start touring.”
Dean huffed. “It’s fine—- it’s not about Bela, okay? It was just an honest question.”
You waited because it felt like he had more to say. You owed it to him to let him say his piece.
He let out a self deprecating chuckle. “You really think it’s just because I’m a horndog, I’d want out?”
“Dean— I didn’t mean it like that, I—”
“No, you did. You were very clear. I just gotta know, Y/N, is there no other reason you can think of for me to want out than some easy lay?”
He wasn’t even pretending to keep his eyes on the road anymore. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark and glossy and every hope you’d ever had fluttered in your stomach.
You were supposed to say something back.
But you had already said too much.
You couldn’t lose him over something as avoidable as a misunderstanding.
“I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t— nu-uh, that’s not what I asked. I don’t want your apology, here, okay? Just—- tell me there’s something else that could get me out of this without being the bad guy.”
It hurt to look at him.
But God was it even harder to look away.
“I can talk to Crowley— work out a timeline if you want?”
Dean shook his head, looked to the ceiling of the impala, and exhaled deeply. “No—- we’re good. But if you ever think of an answer. I want to hear you say it.”
You looked down at your lap, your phone case biting into your palm where you squeezed it.
“I don’t know what you’re fishing for, Dean. I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologize, but I feel like I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth tonight.”
“It’s okay, Trouble. No hard feelings. Promise.”
You looked up to make sure he wasn’t still pissed.
“Seriously?”
Dean’s mouth twitched with a ghost of a smile. “Seriously.”
It wasn’t until you were safe and distracted with drinks and everyone else at Elizabeth’s that you realized Dean had called you by your real name. You couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
No one really talks about the non-glamourous tasks required before going on tour. Especially not the ones that have nothing to do with the music and everything to do with leaving your home for months on end. Your personal to-do list always fell by the wayside when it came to the band, but you were running out of time on it now. In less than 48 hours, the opening act would take the stage.
And three days after that you would officially be on the road, for nearly six months straight.
You shoved a quart of half-eaten fried rice into a garbage bag and moved onto the vegetable drawer. Cleaning out the fridge didn’t take very long, but going through your pantry was a nightmare. When did you even buy half of this shit?! The cans would last, but a lot of the boxed stuff was already halfway to expiring so you set them aside to drop off somewhere over the next couple of days.
Then you wiped everything down.
By the time the kitchen surfaces were done, you were sweaty and gross. But you had too much momentum to stop there. You swept and mopped the floor. You took a breath and pushed on. Later that evening while taking out the trash, your neighbor, Isaac, waved at you over the half-fence.
“Getting ready to get back on the road then?” His accent was pleasant as ever.
You sighed and blew a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. “Getting there. I never understand how much I need to clean with it just being me. But here I am, like usual.”
He poked at some meat on the grill as he made conversation. “Tam said we’re due over tomorrow to go over things before you leave?”
You nodded your head. “Yeah, anytime after you both get home from work is fine, I’ll just be forcing myself to actually pack at that point. I really appreciate you guys looking over the place.”
“It’s nothing really. Plus you more than compensate us for it, love.”
“I know, but still.” You looked down at your dust streaked tshirt and ratty sweats and decided you had been out in the world long enough looking like that. “Alright, I better get back inside. See you tomorrow, Isaac.”
“TTFN!”
You smiled to yourself as you stepped back inside through the side door. You were so lucky to have good neighbors, especially with the way your job worked. Dean had told you all about Tamara and Isaac before you moved in, making sure you knew everything from the seriousness of not asking about kids to the humor of not insulting classic Doctor Who.
When Dean remembered, he’d still meet Isaac at one of the few English style pubs for a football match every now and again.
And they didn’t seem to mind housesitting for you whenever you needed.
The smell of the dry rub from Isaac’s grill haunted you as you went back into your clean, yet emptied out kitchen. It just meant another night of delivery was in your future.
You woke up grumpy from an incessant buzzing coming from your phone. The first notification was from Twitter and you opened it without checking anything else.
Ugh, okay, fine. Dean dropped Bela off late last night. You weren’t too worried about it. So you tried to go back to sleep. But a nagging feeling in the back of your mind kept prodding the possibilities into your thoughts.
Before jumping to any conclusions, you got out of bed and started a pot of coffee.
There had been a lot of little things you had to ignore in the day-to-day of being the band’s publicist, and even more you had to try and bury as their friend. Cas’ penchant for banging journalists was one of the ongoing thorns in your side. And of course all of Lee and Pamela’s on-again-off-again nonsense came up more than was even happening. But Dean knew how to leave a hook up. He also knew when he was being tailed.
This entire headline smelled fishy.
You bit your lip and opened your contacts. It was still too early for a business call, especially since you knew he was out until after bar close, but you couldn’t wait any longer for answers.
The phone rang in your ear and you silently begged your coffee pot to brew faster. Dean answered just before it would have sent you to his voicemail.
“I’m up— where’s the fire?” Dean mumbled into the microphone.
Without any preamble, you started in on the questions. “Have you seen the latest? People are up in arms over you squealing out of Bela’s driveway this morning. What happened?”
“Uh, hold on,” Dean must have moved the phone or covered the mouthpiece because you could hear his voice rumbling, but couldn’t make out a single thing he said. Then came a bunch of muted background noises and a door opening and closing. “Okay, wanna run that past me again? Slower and without the accusatory tone— it’s not even fucking nine am, Trouble.”
Your suspicions continued to rise. “Where are you?”
“In a hallway.”
Not ‘the’ hallway, not ‘my’ hallway, an unspecified singular hallway.
“Dean—”
“Look. The paps were fucking vultures last night, I caught one of them trying to lowjack Baby. So, I ditched her, and Sam got her back home safe. I circled back after I knew they’d scattered and I stayed put. There’s nothing to worry about. Just people trying to make me look bad for being too smart for their slimy ways.”
Your brain hissed like a television left between channels, not a signal coming or going in either direction.
“You’re at Bela’s.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yep.”
Your business brain rebooted, slowly.
“Trouble?”
You called him, you should have said something already. “Okay, so, uh, I guess just make sure to leave publicly. Or go out for breakfast or something. Just don’t leave it how they’re spinning it.”
Dean huffed. “Makes sense. Anything else?”
“Tomorrow is the morning show interview, you said you’d pick me up? Is that still gonna happen or should I just get an Uber? I’ll just call an Uber.”
“I mean, yeah, gotta be home to drag Sam with anyway. So you don’t gotta. We’ll be there with bells on right at five.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“I should go—”
“Right, of course. Bye.”
“Talk to you later.”
You hung up and your coffee pot finally whistled, signaling it had completed brewing.
You moved through your morning routine in a fog. Even when Bela posted a gorgeous fruit plate between matching mimosas sometime before noon, you only gave it a heart and moved on to folding your next load of laundry. Once you let yourself look at what was happening, you gave into the anger. You screamed into an old hoodie until you were hoarse.
Dean was actually sleeping with Bela.
Your two best friends were fucking.
The same best friends you had set up to help make your job easier.
What the fuck was your life?
And how the hell were you supposed to pretend any of this was okay?!
Damn it, Trouble tell him already, or he's really going to be with Bella. I hate it. Yet Dean doesn't really feel like to me he cares for Trouble. I'm getting sad..
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