Summary: While investigating a string of fairy tale-inspired attacks, you become the next victim of the curse. Dean refuses to accept there's nothing he can do about it.
Pairing: Dean x F.Reader (Hunter) / (Established relationship)
Warnings: Fairy tale stuff, magical sleep/unconsciousness, (really)soft Dean, hurt, comfort, light mention of Dean's deal, softness, too much softness, takes place during Season 3 Episode 5.
Notes: I am watching spn again, bedtime stories gave me this idea and why not do this with my favorite Disney princess?
Word count: 4.3k
âAll right, maybe it is fairy tales,â Dean said, staring at the frog sitting in the grass. He still looked unconvinced. âTotally messed-up fairy tales,â he added, pointing at it with two fingers, âbut Iâll tell you one thing. Thereâs no way Iâm kissing a damn frog.â You couldn't help smiling.
âThe stories follow a script, right?â you said, glancing toward Sam. âYou probably don't have to kiss one unless something forces you to.â
âThatâs usually how fairy tales work.â Sam nodded toward a house across the street. âCheck that out.â He looked toward one of the houses across the street, a lone pumpkin sat on the front porch steps.
âYeah, it's close to Halloween,â Dean said with a shrug, like that explained everything. Maybe, but still, it felt a little early.
âYou remember Cinderella? The pumpkin that turns into a coach? The mice that become horses?â at this point, you were pretty sure he was talking mostly to you. Dean looked like he'd rather wrestle the frog than discuss fairy tales.
âDude, could you be more gay?â Dean scoffed.
âDean.â You nudged his arm with yours. âLeave him alone.â
Dean looked at you. âYou're taking his side?â
âI'm taking the side of the guy who actually read a book once in his life.â Sam smirked. Dean shot you an affronted look.
âWow.â
âI'm just saying.â
âYou wound me.â You laughed as the three of you headed toward the house.
Sam unlocked the front door. Inside, the place felt abandoned. Too quiet.
You split up, checking the downstairs rooms while Dean and Sam moved further into the house.
The living room was empty.
Dining room too.
Then you heard something, a metallic rattling sound. You immediately headed toward it.
Someone sat on the floor beside the cabinets, handcuffed to one of the drawer handles. You crouched beside her.
âHey, hey, it's okay.â Sam and Dean appeared a second later. âWe're here to help.â
The girl looked relieved once she realized nobody was going to hurt her, the words started spilling out all at once.
Her stepmother had beaten her, locked her in the kitchen, handcuffed her to the drawers, and forced her to clean while the rest of the family went out.
Definitely Cinderella.
While Sam worked on the handcuffs, movement caught your attention.
A little girl appeared on the other side of the hallway, half of her body was visible. She didn't seem to have anything to do with it, but it made sense when you remembered one of the victims mentioned a little girl before.
âDean,â you called. He was already moving, you watched them disappear through the hallway. Meanwhile, you called 911 while Sam freed the girl and made sure she was okay.
When the police arrived and the victim was being looked after by paramedics, the three of you regrouped outside.
Dean tossed something into the air and caught it. A shiny red apple.
âThe kid left this.â
You exchanged a look with Sam. âSnow White,â he nodded.
âSo what? We look for aâŠâ
âA girl in a deep sleep,â you completed.
âOf course,â Dean said. You couldn't help smiling at his tone. May not be the easiest task but at least you knew what you were looking for.
âWe should start with hospitals,â Sam said and the three of you headed back toward the Impala.
You had barely made it halfway across the street when a wave of dizziness hit without warning. The ground seemed to shift beneath your feet for a second, forcing you to slow down.
Dean noticed immediately.
âYou okay?â
You blinked hard. âYeah. Just... tired,â you admitted quietly. âHead hurts.â Deanâs brows pulled together.
âYou shouldâve said something.â
âIt literally just started.â He still didn't look convinced, not even a little persuaded by your explanation. You reached the Impala and leaned against the door. âWould you mind dropping me at the motel first?â
He exchanged a look with Sam. âWe're heading to the hospital anyway.â
âI think I just need sleep.â He hesitated. You could see him weighing the options in his head, so you reached out and touched his hand. âDean,â you said softly. âReally. I'm okay.â
The second your fingers brushed his, his hand turned instinctively, fitting against yours perfectly like it had done a hundred times before.
âOkay,â he finally said.
You knew that tone. It wasn't agreement. It was Dean deciding to worry about it later.
His hand lingered around yours for a second longer before he finally let go.
ââŠCall me if anything feels weird.â
Sam snorts from the door.
âA little late for that warning, don't you think?â Dean shot him a look but didn't argue.
You squeezed his hand once. âI'll be here when you get back.â
Dean leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. âBetter be.â
Then he and Sam were gone.
The motel felt strangely empty after that.
You tried distracting yourself for a while. Flipped through channels. Sat on the edge of the bed. Eventually, you stretched out on top of the covers, hoping sleep might take care of the headache.
It didn't.
The headache hadn't gotten any better. If anything, the longer you lay there, the worse it felt. Not painful enough to alarm you, just enough to keep you from relaxing.
You closed your eyes, hoping a few minutes of rest would help, when a faint sound drifted through the silence.
Your eyes snapped toward the door.
Nothing.
Just the television and the hum of the motel's air conditioner. You almost convinced yourself you'd imagined it when the sound came again.
It wasn't loud enough to make out. Not a voice, not exactly. Still, something about it settled deep in your chest, tugging at you with quiet persistence.
Without really deciding to, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood.
The movement felt natural, automatic. One moment you were in bed, the next you were reaching for the door.
The cold night air greeted you outside, but it did little to clear your thoughts. Across the road, beyond a chain-link fence and a row of storage units, stood an old warehouse you'd barely noticed earlier that day.
Now it was impossible to look anywhere else.
You crossed the empty lot without hesitation. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a warning whispered that this was a bad idea. That you should turn around. Call Dean. Go back to the motel.
Instead, you kept walking.
The warehouse door stood slightly open, swaying gently in the wind. You pushed it wider and stepped inside. Moonlight spilled through broken windows, illuminating dust-covered machinery and forgotten crates. At first, nothing seemed unusual.
Then you saw it.
A spinning wheel sat alone in the center of the room.
Your stomach dropped.
Every instinct screamed at you to leave. To run. To do anything except take another step forward, but you did.
âNo...â you whispered.
The word sounded weak, swallowed by the darkness around you.
That was the worst part. You could still think. Still understand exactly what was happening. Somewhere between leaving the motel and walking through that door, you'd lost control of everything except your own awareness.
The spinning wheel waited silently beneath the moonlight.
Waiting for you.
Your hand lifted despite every effort to stop it. Your arm trembled as you fought against the movement, and for a brief second, you thought you might actually win.
Then your fingertip brushed the spindle.
A sharp sting shot through your hand and the room vanished.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Dean knew something was wrong before Sam even finished parking the Impala.
The hospital had given them answers, just not the ones they needed. They knew who was behind the attacks now. They knew why people were ending up trapped inside twisted fairy tales. What they didn't know was how to stop it.
None of that mattered the second your call went to voicemail.
âSheâs not answering.â Dean was already trying again as he crossed the motel parking lot.
Straight to voicemail. His jaw tightened.
âShe said she'd stay here. She's probably asleep.â Sam didn't answer right away. By the time he stepped into the room, Dean was already inside.
The television was still playing quietly in the corner. The blankets were tangled on the bed like you'd only gotten up a few minutes ago.
But you were gone. You wouldn't just leave. Not after the conversation they'd had before he left.
âThe door was open, Sam.â His eyes swept across the room, searching for anything out of place. Your bag was still there. So was your jacket.
Enough to tell him you'd walked out in a hurry. Or hadn't had much choice.
Dean was moving out of the room before the thought had even finished forming.
Outside, his gaze traveled across the empty lot until it landed on the warehouse across the road.
The same warehouse they'd driven past earlier.
The same warehouse sitting there now like it had been waiting all along.
âSam.â That was all he said. Sam followed his gaze and immediately understood.
They ran.
The metal door slammed against the wall when Dean shoved it open. For a second, everything seemed frozen.
Dust hung in the air, illuminated by moonlight spilling through the broken windows.
The spinning wheel standing in the center of the room, and you, lying motionless beside it.
Dean crossed the distance in seconds and dropped to his knees beside you. âHey. Hey, come on.â
Nothing.
His hands shook as he reached for your pulse. The relief nearly knocked the breath out of him when he found it.
âCome on, sweetheart,â he muttered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. âWake up.â
Behind him, Sam had gone completely silent. Dean looked over his shoulder, his brother was staring at the spinning wheel.
"What?" Sam swallowed but didn't answer. A knot immediately formed in Dean's stomach. âSam?â
âSleeping Beauty.â Dean frowned.
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
âIn the original Grimm story, the princess pricks her finger on a spindle and falls asleep.â Dean glanced at you. Then looked back at Sam.
âHow do we wake her?â Sam hesitated. Which was answer enough. âSam.â
âWe canât. Sheâs sleeping for a hundred years.â The words seemed to echo through the warehouse. Dean just stared at him.
âA hundred years?â
âDean, listenââ
âNo.â
âDeanââ
âNo.â His voice cracked. âFix it.â
âWe don't even know ifââ
âFIX IT, SAM.â Silence settled between them. After a moment, Sam nodded.
"We need to get back to the hospital."Dean didn't answer. He simply slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back before lifting you carefully into his arms.
Like letting go wasn't an option.
Hours had passed.
Sam had gone to talk to the doctor after putting together a theory, leaving Dean alone with you.
The hospital room had grown darker as the afternoon slipped into evening. Nurses came and went, the muted television murmured from the corner, and at some point Dean had stopped paying attention to any of it.
You hadnât moved once.
And Dean hated it.
Sitting beside your bed, he rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at you again, as if maybe this time something would be different.
It never was.
The worst part was how normal you looked.
No pain. No fear. No sign that anything was wrong.
Just asleep.
Dean's fingers tightened around yours.
âY'know,â he muttered after a while, staring at the floor, âI'm starting to think fairy tales suck.â
The joke landed exactly as well as expected.
Silence.
A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before fading again. His gaze drifted back to you. âI should've stayed.â Guilt sat ugly in his chest. âIâm supposed to protect you.â
Then Dean exhaled slowly and leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. Another against your hair. And finally, a lingering kiss against your lips.
Not magical. Just Dean.
When he pulled back, something shifted. A tiny movement. So small he almost thought he'd imagined it.
Dean froze.
âSweetheart?â Your brows furrowed slightly before your eyes slowly opened.
Dean laughed out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to breaking. You blinked up at him slowly.
â...Dean?â
âYeah.â He immediately leaned closer. âYeah, sweetheart. I'm here.â
âWhat happened?â Dean let out a short laugh.
âYou know what? Better if you donât ask.â Before you could ask anything else, the door opened. Sam walked in carrying a folder under one arm. He took one look at you sitting awake in bed and stopped cold.
âSammy,â Dean said proudly, pointing at you. âAwake.â
âI can see that.â He smiled.
You looked between them. âNow can you tell me what happened?â Sam pulled a chair closer.
âThe doctor finally let his daughter go.â Your confusion must have shown immediately because he continued. âThe girl who's been in a coma all these years? She was the one causing all of this. The fairy tales, the curses... everything.â
You slowly remembered pieces of the case.
âThe doctor?â Sam nodded.
âHe couldn't let her go. Not after everything that happened. But once he finally did...â He gestured toward you. âThe curse ended.â
âThat's rough,â you murmured.
âYeah,â Sam agreed softly.
The silence lasted all of three seconds before Dean ruined it.
âSo, Sleeping Beauty, huh?â He teased, you groaned immediately.
âShut up. I would've preferred the Disney version.â
âThe Disney version?â Dean asked.
âWay more romantic.â You explained.
âMore romantic? I literally kissed you and you woke up.â
âYou did?â He looked at you offended. You were unconscious back then, so you really had no clue.
âI did.â
âDean,â Sam interrupted, fighting a smile, âthat's not actually why she woke up.â Dean pointed at him without even looking.
âNobody asked.â
âIn the story, the curse ends because enough time passes.â Dean rolled his eyes.
âOkay, and the hundred years are up?â
âDeanââ
âLooks like all that fairy tale knowledge finally failed you, Sammy.â Sam sighed. You laughed, and for the first time since he'd found you lying beside that spinning wheel, Dean felt the knot in his chest begin to loosen.
Without thinking, he reached for your hand again.
This time when your fingers curled around his, he didn't let go.
The next few days were... weird.
Not bad.
Just different.
Dean didn't let you out of his sight. At all.
At first, you thought he was being subtle about it. Then you woke up one morning to find him already awake, sitting in the chair across from the bed with a lore book open in his lap. He was supposedly reading, but his eyes kept drifting over the top of the pages.
"...Dean." He didn't even blink.
"What?"
"Why are you staring at me?"
"I'm not."
"You literally are." Dean shrugged.
"Could be dead asleep for a hundred years right now. Think I earned staring privileges." You just stared at him.
From the other bed, Sam snorted loudly into his coffee.
"Oh my God." Dean tossed a balled-up napkin at him without looking.
"Shut up."
But it kept happening.
Dean hovering. Constantly.
A hand at your back whenever you walked somewhere. Asking if you were tired. Checking if you felt dizzy. Reaching out to touch your arm for no reason at all, like he needed proof you were actually there.
A few days later, you were sitting at Bobby's kitchen table with a book in your hands when Dean came through the door carrying groceries.
The second he spotted you, something in his shoulders relaxed.
It was subtle. Most people probably wouldn't have noticed, but you did.
Dean caught you watching him and immediately frowned.
"...What?"
Your expression softened. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Checking if I'm alive." Dean scoffed.
"That's exactly how Iâd say it."
From the couch, Sam spoke without even looking up from his book. "But itâs true."
Dean pointed at him.
"Nobody asked you." Sam grinned.
"You almost went full Disney prince in that hospital, man." Dean looked genuinely horrified.
"Do not call me that."
"You said it yourself. You kissed her and she woke up." A laugh slipped out before you could stop it. Dean's head immediately turned toward you and there it was again.
That tiny shift in his expression.
Like hearing you laugh settled something inside him.
Sam noticed it too. Which meant Dean was completely doomed.
The teasing faded after that, leaving a comfortable silence behind. Dean set the groceries on the counter while Bobby disappeared somewhere deeper into the house, muttering about beer.
Then Dean spoke again.
"You scared me." The words came out quieter than expected.
You looked up.
Dean wasn't joking this time.
"I mean it." His gaze dropped briefly to the floor before returning to you. "When Sam said you'd be asleep forever..."
The sentence died there. You knew Dean well enough to hear the rest anyway.
The fear.
The helplessness.
The thought of losing someone and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
Dean looked away for a second, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "I hated that."
Something in your chest ached.
Dean usually hid behind jokes when things got too real. If he was saying this out loud, it meant he'd been carrying it around ever since.
You stood from the table and crossed the kitchen. Dean's eyes followed you automatically. They always did.
When you stopped in front of him, your hands slid into the front of his jacket, lightly gripping the fabric.
"You know," you said softly, "hovering isn't actually preventing supernatural attacks." Dean hummed. "Counterpoint: maybe it is." That earned a smile.
Then, more quietly, you added, "I'm okay."
Dean looked at you for a long moment. Like he was trying very hard to believe it.
Finally, his hand lifted and brushed gently along your cheek before settling at the back of your neck.
"I know." But even as he said it, he tugged you a little closer. Instinctively. And you let him.
Dean pressed a kiss to your forehead.
From the couch, Sam immediately made a disgusted noise. "Okay. That's enough."
Without taking his eyes off you, Dean flipped him off. You laughed against Dean's shoulder.
For a moment, Dean closed his eyes. Just a second, long enough to feel the warmth of you standing there.
The steady rise and fall of your breathing. The simple fact that you were alive.
Still here.
And for now, that was enough.
Dean had been unbearably clingy all day.
Not that you minded.
At some point, while Bobby and Sam were out getting supplies, Dean had somehow ended up stretched across the couch with you trapped between him and the cushions, one arm around your waist while he half-watched some old western on TV.
His fingers absentmindedly played with the ends of your hair. Every few minutes, he pressed a kiss somewhere random, your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, like he physically couldn't help himself.
You finally laughed softly after the fourth forehead kiss in ten minutes.
"What?" Dean looked down at you innocently.
"What what?"
"You're being weirdly affectionate today." Dean scoffed.
"Weirdly? Rude."
You smiled, shaking your head. "Sorry, sorry."
Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously before leaning down to steal another kiss anyway. You laughed against his lips this time.
"You know," you said once he finally pulled back a little, "Sam was right."
Dean groaned instantly. "Those are words nobody should ever say."
You ignored him completely.
"You kind of are my Prince Charming."
"Sweetheart, I'm way hotter than Prince Charming." You rolled your eyes. Dean looked entirely too pleased with himself. "You seen me? C'mon."
You laughed, fingers idly playing with the collar of his flannel.
"Well... Prince Phillip was really handsome."
Dean froze.
"...Excuse me?" You nodded seriously.
"He was always my crush when I was little." Dean stared at you in disbelief.
"Cartoon prince?"
"He had the sword, Dean."
"I have guns."
"That's true."
"And a car."
"Also true."
"And better hair." You pretended to think about it. Dean immediately grabbed your jaw, turning your face toward him. "Wrong answer. Try again."
By now, you were grinning. "Okay, okay. Maybe you're hotter."
"Maybe?"
"Don't push it." Dean squinted at you before lightly biting your cheek in retaliation.
"Dean!"
"That's what you get." You were still laughing when he kissed you again, slower this time. His hand slid up your side, settling comfortably at your waist while his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your sweater.
When he pulled back, you were still smiling at him.
Dean tried very hard to look unaffected.
"...You liked that." He immediately looked away.
"Liked what?"
"The Prince Charming thing."
"I did not."
"You did."
"Nope." You watched him for another second, amused. Dean suddenly seemed very interested in whatever was happening on the television, which told you everything.
Your expression softened. "You know," you murmured quietly, "I don't actually care about the prince part."
That got his attention.
You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw.
"If I got to choose..." Your thumb traced softly over the little crease near his mouth. "I'd still pick you." His breath caught.
Tiny.
Barely noticeable.
But you saw it anyway. God, you always saw right through him.
"Yeah?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah." A small smile tugged at your lips. "Even over Prince Phillip."
"Good choice." His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. "I really like having you here."
The honesty in his voice almost hurt.
Instead of answering, you leaned forward and pressed three quick kisses against his lips. Dean smiled helplessly into the last one.
"See?" you whispered against his mouth. "Definitely my prince." He rolled his eyes, but the faint blush creeping into his ears ruined the effect.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
The TV droned quietly in the background while Dean's arm stayed wrapped around your waist, his thumb tracing lazy patterns against your side. Neither of you were really paying attention to the movie anymore.
"You went somewhere."
You blinked. "Hm?"
Dean tilted his head slightly, studying your face.
"That look." His thumb brushed lightly against your hip. You looked down at the fabric of his flannel between your fingers.
"...I just wish this could stay like this." The words were quiet, but Dean felt them anyway. Because he knew exactly what you meant.
Not the couch.
Not the teasing.
Not the kisses.
Him.
His hand stilled for a moment before he forced himself to keep moving, thumb brushing gently against your side again.
"Hey..." You shook your head quickly.
"No, it's okay." But your voice already sounded thinner. "I just..." You exhaled shakily. "I hate that every good moment turns into me remembering..." You couldn't finish it.
You didn't need to.
Dean's chest tightened painfully.
Less than a year.
He hated that you had to carry that around now. Hated that every happy moment came with a countdown neither of you could ignore.
His hand slid up slowly, fingers curling gently beneath your chin until you looked at him. Your eyes were already glossy.
Dean swore it wrecked him every single time.
"Don't do this to yourself." You laughed softly, but it broke in the middle.
"How do I not?" Dean didn't have an answer. Because honestly, he didn't know either.
So instead, he brushed his thumb beneath your eye, careful and gentle, like touching something fragile. "I'm here right now," he said quietly.
You nodded. "I know."
But the sadness remained. Dean could still see it.
So he leaned down and kissed you softly. Not trying to distract you. Not trying to fix it. Just reminding you he was here.
You kissed him back immediately, almost desperately, your fingers tightening in his shirt as you pulled him closer.
Dean paused for a second when he realized what you were doing. Trying to stop thinking. Trying to drown it all out before it settled in your chest again. His heart ached at that, but he didn't call attention to it or make you explain.
He simply slid a hand into your hair and kissed you back slowly, carefully, giving you something else to hold onto for a little while.
When you finally pulled apart, you kept your forehead resting against his, eyes closed and breathing uneven.
"C'mere." Dean pressed one last kiss near the corner of your mouth before pulling you fully into his lap.
You went willingly, arms wrapping around his neck. He held you there for a moment, content just to have you close.
"You know what I think?" You hummed quietly. "I think we should go get dinner before Sammy eats everything." A tiny smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. Dean noticed immediately and looked absurdly pleased about it.
"There she is." You shook your head.
"You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Change the subject when things get sad." Dean thought about it for a second.
"...Yeah."
You finally opened your eyes and looked at him properly again.
For once, there wasn't a joke ready on his tongue.
"I can't fix this one, sweetheart." The words were quiet. Honest. "I can't." You swallowed hard. Dean's hand settled against your cheek. "But I can get you pancakes at midnight." A laugh escaped before you could stop it. Dean smiled immediately. "And pie," he added. "Very important."
You leaned forward and kissed him again, softer this time.
"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Dean's expression softened instantly.
"Love you too." Then, because he physically couldn't leave a serious moment alone for too long. "Now c'mon, princess. Your prince is starving."
You groaned. "You ruined it."
Dean grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple as he stood and pulled you up with him.
"Yeah," he said, lacing his fingers through yours. "But you're still smiling."
summary: After her ex finds her, he makes an appearance after she closes up the salon. After a violent encounter, she runs to the one person she never expected. Jackson.
word count: 2.1k
pairing: Jax x Reader
warnings/tags: 18+ only. MDNI. This chapter depicts violence against the reader. Please heed the warnings. Protective!Jax. Stalking. Canon-typical violence and language. Enemies to lovers.
a/n: it feels so good to be back into this fic! Please like, reblog, and let me know if youâd like to be tagged. Iâm also releasing this a little early, but after this installment, we will be going back to Fridays. I just couldnât wait anymore (:
series masterlist l main masterlist
The world around you went completely silent, and all you could hear was your pulse in your own ears. You ran away from him, and he found you. And you knew that you werenât safe.
The sun was setting quickly over the horizon, and you knew it was going to be getting dark soon. But still, you couldnât move. You couldnât bring yourself to step foot out of your salon.
You weighed out your options. You could leave. Run away and never look back. To you, that wasnât an option. You put your life, your blood, sweat and tears into this salon. Youâd be damned to let him ruin that.
Another option was to leave here and go straight to the police. The new sheriff seemed like she didnât mess around, and the fact that she was a woman would help.
Another option was him. The one you didnât want to run to before, but at that moment, he was all you wanted. Jax.
You mustered up every once of strength you had to finally close up the shop. It took entirely too long, and it was already dark outside. The streetlights were starting to kick on, but the streets of Charming were quiet, and you were hoping and praying to hear the sound of a Harley coming roaring towards you. You didnât.
Your keys were shaking and jingling in your hands as you trembled with fear. Youâd felt as if you were being watched. And that feeling became validated once you heard footsteps behind you.
When you turned around, you saw him. It was Alex. He quickly grabbed you, and swiftly pulled you into the alley next to your salon. Your yells for help were muffled when he locked his arm around your face as he pulled you. Alex quickly shoved you against the brick wall, his hand placed firmly over your mouth, pinning you there. Even though he was stronger than you, you still fought with everything you had.
As he tried to get you to calm down, telling you he just wanted to talk, you brought your knee up between his legs, kneeing him as hard as you could in the crotch. While he leaned down to groan and grab himself, you ran. But he caught you as you reached your car and slammed you against it, banging your head against the door.
âStop!â He yelled. âIâm not gonna hurt you.â You didnât care what he said, and you knew what he was capable of, so you kept fighting. And you started swinging with everything you had, aiming for his face, connecting enough times that you had enough time to run into your car again.
This time, you made it safely behind the wheel, locked the door, and quickly drove off.
On instinct, you drove straight to Teller-Morrow.
When you walked right into the clubhouse, you were greeted by Tig and Chibs. They stood up immediately and ran to you. They took in the sight of you - your hair a mess, a scratch on the side of your face, and a goose egg on your forehead.
âJesus Christ,â Chibs said, looking at the damage on your face.
âThe hell happened?â Tig whispered.
You needed Jax, but you didnât see him so you went to go turn to leave but you heard the doors to what seemed like a conference room burst open. The double doors hit the wall as Jax emerged quickly and loudly from the room.
âThe fuck is going on?â Jax roared.
âI dunno, Jackie,â Chibs responded. âShe just got here.â
Jaxâs face immediately changed. He was no longer the president of SAMCRO. He was no longer an outlaw. He was something more primal, more protective. He was terrifying.
He was quickly in front of you, cupping your face in his hands.
âWho did this to you?â He asked, the calmness in his voice terrified you. You knew what would happen if you told Jax about Alex. Heâd kill him, and you didnât want that blood on your hands.
âI-,â you stuttered. âI was closing up the salon and I was attacked.â
âBy who, sweetheart?â Tig asked from behind you, before Jax even had a moment to respond. That was Tig's job. Get down to the root of the problem and handle it.
âIâŠI donât know.â
âDarlinâ,â Jax said, seething. âIâm gonna ask one more time. Who. Did this. To you?â
You lied.
âIt was some random guy,â you said. âI never seen him before.â Your voice was still shaking, and you were still shaken up from what just happened. But you needed to lie.
âWhat did he look like?â Tig asked.
âI donât know,â you responded. âIt was dark. IâŠIâŠâ you couldnât finish your sentence before you started crying. Jax immediately brought you in an embrace, delivering a soft , barely-there kiss to the top of your head.
âSâalright darlinâ,â Jax said, his voice calm and comforting. âLemme take you home.â
âI left something at the salon,â you said.
âIâll take ya there first.â He said, before turning around towards Chibs and Tig, barking some orders at them that you were too worked up to comprehend it at all. You just walked towards your car, but Jax let out a short whistle to get you to turn around.
He was waiting at his Harley for you. No way. There was no way in hell you were getting on that death trap.
âYou got this darlinâ,â he said as you begrudgingly got on behind him. âJust lean with me, aâight?â
The ride back to the salon was short, and you felt as if you were holding your breath the entire time. You dismounted the bike, and quickly strode toward the door of the shop, peeking behind you with every stride, but remembering that Jax was right behind you, and you felt safe.
He followed into the salon behind you, but stayed in the waiting room. By the time you emerged from the back room, you saw Jax studying the flowers on the front desk.
Shit. You were caught.
You slowly stepped toward him meekly. You wondered what he was going to say. If he was going to be angry with you.
âDarlinâ,â he started, holding the note up in front of you. âIâm gonna ask you one more time. What. Happened?â
You tried to speak, but nothing came out and you noticed his jaw tighten. You werenât sure if it was because he was angry at you, or angry over the note.
Jax noticed the fear in your eyes, and his gaze quickly softened.
âWho did this? WhoâsâŠ.Alex?â
Tears began to prickle at your eyes and you felt the lump begin to form in your throat again.
âHeyâŠâ he stepped closer to you, and you flinched. âLook at me, y/n.â
You looked up at him through your wet eyelashes.
âIâve got you.â He brought you into an embrace once he closed the gap between the two of you. âI swear to God Iâve got you. Just tell me whatâs going on.â
And finally, you melted into him.
Quiet sobs escaped your mouth as he wrapped his arms around you. He was gentle, and careful. But firm and protective.
âCâmon,â he said, leading you out of the salon and towards his bike. âIâm taking you home.â
âThank you, Jax,â you said with a whimper.
âDonât thank me,â he said, the engine of his Harley kicking over. âYouâre gonna tell me everything. And then Iâm not letting you out of my sight ever again.â
He brought you home and you didnât need to invite him in - he already knew. Jax slowly and quietly walked through your front hallway, carefully following behind you to the kitchen.
You put some water in a kettle and placed it on the burner of your stove. While the water boiled, you told him everything.
You told him about the abuse Alex put you through. How you ran away. Everything.
âSo howâd he find you?â He asked, the kettle beginning to whistle.
âApparently Iâm not that hard to find,â you said, opening the cabinet and grabbing two mugs and two tea bags. âYou made that clear the day you found my number.â
You bent down to get the milk out of the refrigerator, and Jax was ashamed when he couldnât help but notice your ass as you bent down. But he quickly snapped himself out of it.
âYeah,â he said. âI guess itâs not hard to find anyone these days.â
You didnât respond , you just placed the mug of tea, and the milk on the table in front of him before sitting down opposite him. Jax noticed the stress in your face as you sighed and brought your hands to cover your face.
âHey,â he whispered and snaked his arm across the table, reaching for you. âDonât worry.â
You scoffed. How could you not worry? Your abusive ex boyfriend found you. He was stalking you.
âHow am I supposed to not worry, Jax?â You asked, the frustration was audible in your voice. âHe tried to kill me.â
âYeah, wellâŠâ Jax started, taking a sip from his cup. âHe fucked with the wrong group of people.â
You couldnât understand why Jax was doing this for you. Itâs not like you were ever nice to him. In fact, there were times that you were downright rude to him.
The last couple of weeks, though, you saw a side of Jax you didnât think even existed. He showed you kindness, patience, and protection. It was more than you deserved. And you started crying.
âY/n,â he said. âItâs gonna be okay.â
âI justâŠâ you trailed off.
âWhat is it?â
âI donât really deserve this.â You said.
Jax looked down with a smirk, a hint of satisfaction was written all over his face.
âWhatâs so funny?â You asked, finally feeling like you could relax.
âJustâŠâ he trailed off. âKinda happy that you see that Iâm not all that bad.â
He was right - he wasnât bad at all. It had been so long since youâd felt safe, if you ever felt safe at all. There was way more to Jax that met the eye, and you could see that now.
Jax may have been a criminal, he may have been an outlaw. But for some reason, he was the one person you wanted. The one person you needed.
âIf you donât mind darlinâ, I think Iâll be crashinâ on your couch tonight.â
Your eyes widened, taken aback by his statement. It wasnât even a question, it was more of a demand.
âOh,â you said, roughly swallowing your tea in shock. âNo, you really donât have to do that.â
Jax licked his lips and smirked at you. âRelax. Iâm not gonna try anything with ya, just wanna make sure youâre safe.â
You didnât want to admit it, but Jax was right, you couldnât be alone. If Alex knew where you worked, he most likely knew where you lived. So you didnât protest.
âAlright,â you said. âIf you insist.â
You brought two pillows and a big blanket out from your room for Jax and plopped them down on the couch.
âIâm gonna shower and go to sleep,â you stated, turning to walk away. âLet me know if you need anything.â
âSweet dreams, darlinâ,â Jax said, sitting down on the couch and flicking the TV on.
After you showered, you wrapped yourself in a towel and walked towards your room, but Jax caught you. Soaking wet, and practically naked with a skimpy little towel wrapped around you.
âNope,â Jax muttered to himself. âNot the time.â He went back to focusing on what he was watching on TV.
You were tossing and turning, totally unable to fall asleep. You had thousands of memories flashing through your mind, and every bad thing that ever happened with Alex. Every moment heâd hurt you. The moment you saw the note in those flowers. The rabid look in his eyes when he pinned you against the cold brick in that alley way. It was all too much.
âJax?â You whispered, a little scared to wake him, but he was clearly a light sleeper.
âWhat? Whatâs wrong?â He startled awake.
âI canât sleep,â you said.
Jax opened his arms, inviting you to join him on the couch. You looked at him, unsure if you should or not.
âCâmere darlinâ.â
As soon as you laid down next to Jackson, you felt all of your anxiety melt away. Even though you knew it was only temporary, you fell fast asleep in his arms.
Summary: After the reader gets dumped and ghosted by Dean Winchester, she hits the road, unsure where to go or what to do. To make matters worse, sheâs being haunted by something, and she doesnât know what. One day, in search for answers, she finds herself in the small town of Charming, where she meets Jax Teller. She feels things she hasnât felt in the last year since being dumped by the love of her life.
Series Masterlist
Word Count: 4200
Pairing(s): Jax Teller x Reader, and eventually Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings/Ratings/Tags: 18+ please. Thereâs smut. Lots of smut. Angst. Deans sort of a dick, and Jax is a little chivalrous sweetie pie of a man.
A/N - holy crap guys, this is my first fic in FOUR YEARS. This is part one and I have a feeling Iâm gonna write this quickly because the juices are a-flowin. This will eventually be a threesome/poly/something along those lines series. This is my first crossover and Iâm like obsessed. I feel like I couldnât find *anything* with this crossover so I hope Iâm not the only one on the planet who fantasizes about being in the middle of a Dean and Jax sandwich.
âDean, please donât go.â You pleaded with him as he zipped up his duffle bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed towards the door to the motel room. âI donât understand why youâre doing this!â You ran to block the door, desperate for answersâŠdesperate for a reason.
âY /n,â he scowled at you. âMove.â
But you didnât move. You didnât let your eyes leave him. Though, he had a hard time looking in your eyes, since he looked down at the dirty carpet, bringing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.
âAm I not worth anything to you? Am I not worth some sort of explanation?â Your voice cracked. You couldnât feel more pathetic. Begging the man you love to not leave. Begging the man you love for an explanation.
âY/nâŠâ He trailed off, now looking at the ceiling, still avoiding eye contact with you. âI canât do this anymore. Youâre only going to get hurt.â He finally looked at you, tears streaming down your face. âNow please⊠move.â
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity long stand-off with Dean Winchester, he gently grabbed your shoulders and moved you to the side, and he left. You heard the purr of the Impala before he drove away. Before he drove out of your life. No rhyme. No reason. Nothing. All you could do was cry, with your back against the door, hoping and praying he would change his mind.
One Year Later
Your iPhone clicked as you texted Sam. You were somewhere in Southern California, but you had no idea where to go, or who to go to. Sam was your only option. You had called Dean a hundred times, texted him a hundred times, everything left undelivered, or sent straight to voicemail. It was clear he wanted to erase you. As easy as it was for him to erase you, you were having a hard time erasing whatever was following you. Something evil had a hold on you, and no matter where you went, there it was - haunting you, making you go insane.
âThanks, Sam,â the text read. âI just really donât know where to go. Everywhere I go, this thing, whatever it is, is following me. It has completely latched on to me. I wake up with cuts, bruises. I have tried getting a hold of Dean, but clearly he doesnât want to be reached. Let me know where you are, and I can meet you. I am passing through California now, but can make it to Nebraska in a day, if that's where you are.â
Send.
And before you could even put your phone down in the cupholder, you heard a rush of air come flying out of your tire, and your steering wheel started to shake.
âSon of a bitch,â you muttered to yourself, as you pulled over to the side of the road.
You giggled at Dean, watching him jack up the Impala as you sat on the hood sipping your beer. Summer had finally come, and it was just starting to break 70 degrees which meant it was finally time that you and Dean could do more outside.
âYeah? You think thatâs funny, huh?â He looked up at you, smirking. âSee how funny you think it is if you ever get a flat on the side of the road. Youâre going to thank me for this.â He rested one hand on his knee, and with his free hand, made a come hither motion for you to get off the hood and join him on the ground. You rolled your eyes as you uncrossed your legs, hopping down and setting the bottle of beer on the roof of the car.
âWatch and learn,â he said while he loosened the lugnuts.
You shook your head and muttered something under your breath along the lines of âwell, at least that son of a bitch was good for one thing.â You got out of the car, careful of any cars since you were in the middle of the California highway, but it seemed like you were in a ghost town. Making your way to the trunk of the car, you heard a rumbling in the distance. It sounded a lot like the Impala, and it sent a shiver up your spine. But you knew that it wasnât Dean, he wasnât ever coming back. He wasnât going to save you. So, you minded your own business, and grabbed the heavier than expected donut tire from the trunk, as well as the jack. Kneeling down on the gravel on the shoulder of the road, you started to jack up your car - just like Dean had shown you.
That rumbling engine you heard in the distance a moment ago was growing closer, and you hoped that whoever it was just kept it moving. You werenât some damsel in distress who needed saving. At least not from a flat tire. That was the least of your issues at this point. Once you had the car jacked up, you heard the rumbling of a motorcycle pull in slowly behind you, and you couldnât even be bothered to turn around. âPlease donât ask if I need help, please donât ask if I need helpâ you thought to yourself.
âNeed a hand?â You heard a manâs voice from behind you.
âNope, I am all set! Thanks anyways!â You responded without even turning around to acknowledge the kind stranger, offering his help.
âCâmon, let me help.â You finally turned around, and your jaw damn-near hit the ground. He wasâŠbeautiful. Dirty blonde hair, slicked back, but messy as he took off his helmet and started towards you. âI canât let a woman fix a flat in my presence. Sorry, itâs a rule of mine.â
You stood up and brought your hand to your forehead to block the sunlight flashing in your eyes. âIs that so?â You said, sarcastically.
âLook, I know you can do it on your own,â he said as he knelt down and started working on the tire. âBut, just let me. Clearly, youâre not from around here, and I would like to give you a warm welcome to Charming.â
âClearly?â You scoffed. âIs it that obvious?â
He pointed to your out-of-state license plate. âRelax, darlinâ,â he said. âThereâs no need to be all defensive. Just hang out and then I will be out of your hair in no time.
He looked up at you with the most gorgeous blue eyes youâd ever seen. He had a cut off leather jacket on, and you noticed the President patch on one side but you didnât ask any questions. You just sat on the hood while he worked. It reminded you of that afternoon at Bobbys, hanging out with Dean while he worked on his car. You really didnât want to talk, but you knew it would be rude not to.
âYeah, my ex was a mechanic.â You said, trying to break the awkward silence. âHe taught me the basics.â You snickered.
âYeah?â He squinted, looking up at you, smiling. âGotta stay away from mechanics. Theyâre bad news.â
You laughed. âNo kidding.â You agreed, because in Deanâs case, that was an accurate stereotype. âWhat do you do?â
âIâm a mechanic.â He looked up at you again, flashing a perfect and pearly white smile and you couldnât help but break out into a fit of laughter.
âAlright,â he said, grabbing the jack, and flat tire. âYou should be all set.â
âThank you,â you said, with gratitude as you hopped down from the hood and followed him to the trunk. Once he placed everything in the trunk and slammed it shut, he rested there for a minute. âNo problem, darlinâ.â
âIâm Y/n,â you said, holding out your hand for him.
âJax.â He said, putting his strong hand in yours. âWell, Jackson, but Jax.â
He stared at you intently, keeping a firm grip on your hand and you felt yourself getting shy before releasing his hand.
âWell..â you looked around awkwardly, unsure of where to go from there. âJackson, but Jax, thanks again.â He didnât say anything, he just looked down, pretending to be bashful, but you knew there wasnât a shy bone in that beautiful man's body. âBye.â You turned to head for the driver's side.
âWhere ya headed?â He asked as you grabbed the handle to get in the car.
âI donât really know.â You replied.
He slowly stalked towards you. âAre you staying in Charming?â
âI really donât know.â You assured him you werenât joking when you told him you truly had no clue where to go, and who to go to.
Jax nodded his head, almost as if to say he knew how it felt.
âYouâre gonna wanna get that donut off your car if youâre traveling. Those are only supposed to go for about 50 miles, a hundred if youâre lucky.â
You looked at him and nodded your head. âAny idea where I can get one of those?â
âFollow me,â he said, putting his sunglasses and helmet back on. When the engine to his Harley kicked over, another shiver was sent up your spine. You didnât say anything, you just got behind the wheel of your car, and followed him down the highway, and into the cozy town of Charming.
Truth be told, you loved it. You loved the small town, homey feel. This was the life that you wanted with Dean. Small town. Quaint. Cozy. Normal. But your thoughts got cut off and Jax made a left hand turn into a parking lot that led to a garage. âTeller-Morrow.â You rolled your eyes. You knew that this garage was most likely a front for something more⊠extra-curricular if you will.
By the time you pulled in behind Jax, the sun was starting to set. Jax parked next to you, and walked up to your car, prompting you to roll down the window.
âSo, most of our guys are gone for the day,â he said, resting his hand on the door, looking into the garage.
âOh,â you said, turning the car off. âThatâs fine.â You got out, handed him the keys, and told him it was no big deal. You saw a motel a few blocks down and you could just stay there for the night and pick it up tomorrow.
âNo,â he chuckled. âNo, thatâs not what I meant.â He took the keys from your hand. âIâm gonna take care of it, it really shouldnât take long at all. As he said this, he caught his friend, Opie, walking towards the clubhouse.
âOpe!â He shouted, waving him to come over.
He introduced you to his tall, bearded friend.
âI am going to throw a new set of tires on here, and it definitely needs an oil change. When was the last time you had an oil change?â He turned to you.
There was a long pause, followed by a long, drawn out âumâ sound.
âDonât answer that, I donât even want to know.â He laughed. âGive me an hour. Opeâs gonna take you into the clubhouse so you can chill, and have a drink, if you want.â
You nodded, looked at your new biker friend, and smiled, following him into the clubhouse.
An hour went by, and you, Opie and his wife Donna talked about their kids, the club, mostly small talk really. But, you accidentally had three beers, and you had turned into a lightweight as you got older, and you were already tipsy. You and Donna laughed, drunk and giddy, for the first time in⊠well you couldnât remember how long. How long has it been since you had fun? That you laughed? Itâs been a year now. Youâd almost forgotten what brought you here in the first place.
While you and Donna were chatting on a couch in the clubhouse, in walked Jax. He lookedâŠsuper hot. His leather jacket wasnât on, but he was sporting a dirty, oil stained white tee, with jeans and white Air Force sneakers. And what was even better, his hair was pulled back, in a little man bun. You were immediately turned on.
âHi!â You stood up to grab your keys but you lost your footing and tripped into his arms, causing you to snort-laugh and look over at your new friend, blushing and embarrassed. âSorry⊠sorry.â You slurred. âYour friends got me a little drunk.â You looked back to Jax, raising your eyebrows and shrugging your shoulders. âSorry.â You laughed again, causing Jax to laugh, too.
âWell, thereâs no need to be sorry, darlinââ he said, holding the keys to your car in his hands. But, he was now hesitant to give them to you. âBut, maybe you shouldnât be driving.â
âOh,â you said. âYouâre right. I must be a responsibleâŠadult.â You giggled. âBut itâs okay because that motel is within walking distance, so if itâs okay, I will just pick it up in the morning.â
âOr you can stay here.â Donna said, the ever loyal wingman to Jax. âWeâre having a little get-together tonight.â
âYeah,â Jax said. âYouâre welcome to join, and stay here. We have rooms here, donât waste the money on a hotel.
âAreâŠâ you looked back and forth between Jax and Donna. âAre you sure? I donât want to impose anything.â
âNah,â Jax grabbed your hand. âYouâre not at all. Iâd like you to stay.â
You blushed again, unsure where this shy, bashful side of you is coming from, but Jax just brought it out of you. âOkay. Is there a shower here, though? I havenât showered since yesterday.â
You followed Jax to the shared bathroom in the clubhouse, and he showed you where the towels, soaps, extra toothpaste and toothbrushes were.
âWow,â you said, slightly sobering up. âYou guys must have guests all the time.â
He didnât say anything, he just smirked at you, and walked out, giving you your privacy.
You showered, put on a little makeup, and changed into a basic black tank top and jeans. You let your hair air dry, letting your natural wave do its thing.
When you walked out, it was only Donna, and a couple other random, rough looking biker chicks. âHey,â you said, plopping down on the couch. âThat was nice, I really needed that.â
Donna smiled at you, and sat on a couch on the opposite side of you. âSoâŠwhat brings you to Charming?â She asked, and you could feel yourself starting to get nervous.
âItâs a long story,â you said. âMainly, just going through a bad breakup. Kinda not sure where Iâm going or what Iâm doing.â
âYeah,â she said, taking a sip of her beer. âWell, a lot of us here know what thatâs like. So, youâre in good company.â
And that was the end of that. She didnât pry, which you were thankful for.
There was loud music coming from outside, and you could see the glow coming from the fire pits. âCome on,â Donna said, leading you outside.
The night went well. Honestly, you didnât really interact much with Jax at all. You were chatting mostly with Donna, Opie and someone named Juice, who was also very attractive. Every once in a while though, you would catch Jax looking in your direction and youâd share a secretive, flirty smile with each other.
You were⊠drunk, by the time everyone started leaving, but it was also very late. It had to have been about 2 am. Maybe even later. And you knew that it was time to go to bed yourself. You said goodnight to the members of the club, and made yourself comfy on the couch.
You drifted to sleep, and about an hour later, you woke up to Jackson sitting by your feet on the couch. âSweetheart, why donât you come sleep in my bed.â You rubbed your eyes and took a minute to catch your bearings. It was always confusing waking up in a strange place. âNothing weird, I promise. I just feel bad, you need a good nights sleep.â
You followed him to his room, and once you walked in, he gently shut the door and walked towards the bathroom. You didnât say anything, you just studied your surroundings. You saw the âSons of Anarchyâ flag hanging on the wall, his unmade bed, the clutter. âDo you live here full time?â You asked, as he turned the water on for the shower.
âNo,â he said, standing in the doorway, taking his shirt off. âJust somewhere for me to crash on nights like this.â
Your internal monologue told you to run. Run away and never look back . This man was thirty-something years old and living in a glorified frat house. But, you were no better. You were homeless. A vagabond. So, maybe you were no better than him.
After he got out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and padded out to his bedroom, to find you laying there, scrolling on your phone. When you looked over and saw him rummaging through his drawers, with his damn-near naked body, back tat and six pack, you were practically drooling. âYouâre so fucking hot,â you said, out loud, and immediately covered your mouth with your hand, stunned that you just said that. You were drunk, and had no filter, but he didnât mind.
He put boxers on under his towel and dropped the towel to the floor, slowly stalking over towards you. You were nervous, but you didnât move. You let him stalk towards you, like a predator stalking his prey. He crouched down, his knuckles resting on the bed on either side of you. âAre you okay?â He asked, and you nodded gently, waiting for him to make the first move. You stared into his crystal blue eyes, waiting. It had been a year since anyone touched you, since anyone kissed you. It had been a year since you wanted anyone to.
Jax lifted one hand, caressing your cheek and you closed your eyes, melting into his touch. It took everything out of you to not cry right then and there. âWho made you so sad, babe?â He asked, as if he read your mind. You shook your head in response, not ready nor willing to talk about it.
âJust fucking kiss me, please,â you whispered. And his soft, full lips crashed into yours. You laid back against his pillows, not breaking the kiss. You kissed him gently at first, while he climbed on top of you. Both of his hands rested on your face when he opened his mouth and let his tongue gently enter your mouth, your tongues dancing in perfect harmony. Your eyes were squeezed shut when one of the hands that rested on your face traveled down your neck, down your torso and to the hem of your shirt. He broke the kiss and lifted your tank top up, running his hands along your soft skin. You sat up to help him take your shirt off, and he gently laid you back down, kissing your neck, and breathing heavily into your ear. You gently moaned when his breath tickled your ears, and he smiled in response. âYouâre so sensitive,â he whispered. âPurring like a little kitten,â
He kissed down to your shoulders, your sternum, licking from the bottom of your sternum all the way up to your neck. âJesus Christ,â you whimpered.
Jackson continued licking and nibbling your neck, reaching down to unbutton your jeans. He stood up, and slid the denim off your legs, and paused for a moment. âYou doinâ okay?â He asked as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties. You nodded. âYeah, mâokay.â You whispered softly and he slowly removed your panties, his rough hands caressing your legs as he moved down your body.
Once you were fully nude, he leaned down and kissed you one more time before snaking his way down to your mound, peppering light kisses along your hips, waist before settling himself between your legs. âOpen up, baby girl.â he said, pushing your legs wider before leaning down and taking your swollen clit into his mouth. He moaned, âJesus Christ,â sucking on your clit, entering two fingers into your swollen, dripping core. âYouâre so god damn wet, darlinâ,â he said, pumping his fingers in and out, curving them up to hit your g-spot, and you moaned, gripping the sheets.
âFuck!â You shouted while your eyes rolled back. You were a little embarrassed that you were already on the verge of coming, but it had been so long. âDonât stop,â you begged.
âDo you wanna come already?â He asked, taking your clit back into his mouth, sucking and nibbling, not easing up the finger-fucking.
âYes,â you cried out. âYes, please.â And he stopped, you whined once the pleasure abruptly stopped. âWha- what? Why?â
He chuckled, pinning your arms above your head, lining up the head of his cock to your dripping entrance. âBecause I wanna come with you, babes.â And just like that, he slammed into your dripping core, grinding and hitting your g-spot once more.
âFuck!â You shouted again, the thickness of his cock stretching you out was overwhelming.
âJesus Christ,â he moaned into your ear. âYouâre fucking juicy.â
He started slow, almost torturously slow. The strokes were long and deep, hitting every sweet spot you could imagine, and it was overwhelming. You moaned with each thrust, and dug your nails into his tatted back.
He looked in your eyes, sweat dripping down his cute button nose. âYou like that baby?â He asked, and you nodded in response, biting your bottom lip. You were enjoying it a little too much, feeling overstimulated with pleasure.
âPlease, Jax,â you begged once more, feeling an orgasm beginning to form in the pit of your belly, sending tingles through each follicle on your body. âDonâtâŠ..â you moaned. âDonât stop.â And he didnât. He didnât change his pace, he didnât change his strokes. He just kept going until you were overwhelmed when your orgasm finally released. You were breathing heavily, almost panting, by the time your pussy clenched and seized around his swollen cock. âFuck!â He shouted, and he pumped harder and faster, letting the waves of your orgasm fade away before pulling out and finishing on your mound.
Jax caught his breath for just a moment before getting up to get you a towel. He gently cleaned you off, and laid down next to you. âShit, Y/n,â he said, putting his arm around you and pulling you close. âI needed that.â
âMmmmmm,â you moaned in agreement. âMe, too.â
The two of you lie there for a few moments, basking in each other's arms, not saying a word and staring into each other's eyes. This was starting to freak you out, because he felt so familiar, and you hadnât even known him for 24 hours, and it wasnât like you to sleep with someone you didnât really know, but it felt like you knew him. He felt like Dean. He felt safe.
You rolled over to check your phone, and saw that you had a missed call from Sam. âShit,â you said. âMy brother called me.â You lied, and got up and threw on one of Jacksonâs t-shirts and headed outside. It was dark and cold out, and your fingers were trembling from the anxiety and the cold when you called Sam back.
âWhere are you? Itâs the middle of the night,â Sam answered the phone. âIâm in Oakland, well, I am in Charming.â You replied.
âWhatâs going on?â He asked
âI donât know, Sam,â you responded. âI feel like something hasâŠlatched on to me.â You said, taking a drag of your vape.
âLatched on how?â He asked, of course, needing more detail.
âEvery morning I -â You stopped when you saw Jax walking outside. âI canât talk about it right now. Can I call you in the morning?â
âY/n,â he said, sounding concerned.
âLove you, too. Tell ma I said hi,â and that was it. You hung up on him.
âEverything okay?â Jax asked, sitting on the picnic table next to you.
âYeah,â you lied, looking at him, smiling. âEverythingâs fine.â
The next morning, you woke up in Jaxâs arms. He was still snoring, so you got out of bed, careful to not wake him up, but by the time you were done washing your hands in his bathroom, he was awake, leaning on the door frame, still shirtless, and smiling at you.
âYou look good in my shirt, kiddo,â he said.
âKiddo?â You scoffed. âThatâs cute.â
âLet me take you to breakfast, thereâs this diner in town that has the best food and will definitely cure your hangover.â It was funny that he knew you were hungover, but that would explain the grumpiness. The truth is, you were hoping to leave and never come back. No goodbyes, no awkwardness. Just gone. But seeing him looking at you this morning, with those beautiful baby-blue eyes, you were glad you didnât.
Jackson took you to the diner, and he was right. Once your stomach was full, you felt so much better. You made plans for the weekend, so it looked like you werenât going to be leaving Charming any time in the next few days. Jax paid the bill and you followed him out to the parking lot towards his Harley, but you were stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a black 1967 Impala in the parking lot with the engine running.
No way. It couldnât have been.
âY/n,â you heard a familiar voice behind you, and you and Jax turned around at the same time. And there he was, in all his beautiful glory, wearing a flannel and bootcut jeans as always.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Itâs inspired by real people but entirely imaginary. Created for entertainment, not profit. I too was looking for ernie clement fanfics, oneshots, canons, etc. and couldnt find any so i made my own and thought to share them.
I will happily take prompts.
POV: Piper
There are moments in baseball you never forget â the ones that feel like time itself stops just to make room for something magic.
Bottom of the ninth. Two outs. Tie game.
Ernie Clement at bat.
The stadium was shaking. The crowd was on their feet, everyone clapping in rhythm. I could barely hear myself think. My heart was pounding so hard I felt it in my throat.
He stepped into the box, calm as ever, that little half-smile tugging at his lips. He rolled his shoulders once, tapped his bat on the plate twice â his quiet ritual. I could see his lips move around the words I knew by heart: letâs go.
The pitcher wound up. The pitch came in.
Fastball, middle-in.
Crack.
The sound was unreal. Like lightning splitting the sky. The ball soared deep into left field, the crowd rising with it â gasps turning into screams â and then it landed in the stands.
Homerun. Game over.
The stadium erupted.
I didnât even realize I was crying until my cheeks were wet. He rounded the bases, grinning ear to ear, arms raised just a little in disbelief. By the time he crossed home plate, his teammates were already there, lifting him off the ground in a blur of blue and white.
He looked up to the stands, searching â and when his eyes found mine, he pointed. Just once. Right at me.
My heart just melted.
After the chaos died down, the cameras found him for the post-game interview. He was still a little breathless, jersey untucked, hair sticking to his forehead. He leaned on the dugout railing, smiling that shy, proud smile that made everyone fall in love with him.
The reporter laughed. âErnie, that was huge! Walk us through that final at-bat â what was going through your head?â
He exhaled, shaking his head with a grin. âHonestly? I was just trying to stay calm. Weâve worked for moments like that all season, and I didnât want to overthink it. I just⊠swung.â
The crowd cheered behind him. He paused, looking around the stadium â then straight into the camera. His voice softened.
âAnd, uh,â he said, his lips curving into a small smile, âI wanna dedicate that one to my girlfriend, Piper. Sheâs been there through every game, every slump, every doubt. She believed in me when I didnât believe in myself.â
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, just a little flustered. âSo yeah. That oneâs for her.â
The crowd lost it. The reporters laughed, shouting something like âAwww!â and âSheâs a lucky girl!â
And I was â God, I was.
When he found me afterward, he didnât even have time to say anything before I ran straight into his arms. He lifted me off the ground, spinning me once, both of us laughing like idiots.
âYou really said that on live TV?â I teased, still half breathless.
He grinned, pressing his forehead to mine. âI meant it.â
I smiled, tracing my thumb over the edge of his jaw. âGuess Iâll have to frame that interview, huh?â
âBetter,â he said, kissing my temple. âYou can have the ball too.â
And as the fireworks lit up the sky over the Rogers Centre, I thought â this is what it feels like when everything lines up. The swing, the sky, the person you love, and the moment thatâs entirely yours.
Because sometimes, the story doesnât end in heartbreak.
Sometimes, it ends with a swing, a smile, and your name on his lips.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Itâs inspired by real people but entirely imaginary. Created for entertainment, not profit. I too was looking for ernie clement fanfics, oneshots, canons, etc. and couldnt find any so i made my own and thought to share them.
I will happily take prompts.
POV: Piper
The season ended on a warm October night â strange, considering how the city had already started to cool. The air smelled faintly of rain and fallen leaves, and the stadium lights had just gone dark for the last time that year.
This time, it wasnât heartbreak. The Jays didnât win it all, but theyâd made it further than anyone expected â further than last time. And when the final out came, instead of silence, there was applause. A long, echoing, grateful kind of applause.
I waited for him outside the clubhouse, just like I had last year. The hallway looked the same â scuffed floors, dull hum of vending machines, faint smell of dirt and pine tar. But everything felt different.
When he came out, his face was flushed, but calm. No tears. Just quiet pride. His jersey was still tucked in, a little wrinkled, his cap pulled low. But his eyes â those were steady.
âHey,â he said, and his voice was soft, warm.
âHey, yourself,â I smiled. âHow are you feeling?â
He took a long breath, exhaled slowly. âGood. Tired, but good. You know, it doesnât hurt this time.â
I tilted my head. âBecause it wasnât a loss?â
He shook his head. âBecause I know what it means now. Winningâs amazing â but thisâŠâ He looked around, at the equipment bags, the empty hallway, the sound of teammates laughing down the corridor. ââŠthis is what Iâll remember.â
I smiled. âYouâve grown up, Clement.â
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. âGuess heartbreakâll do that to you.â
We walked out together, hand in hand, through the quiet tunnel that led to the parking lot. The stadium loomed behind us, dark and still, but beautiful in its own way. The kind of beauty that only comes when the noise fades and you can finally breathe.
In the car, he rested his head back against the seat, eyes closed, a small smile still tugging at his lips.
âDo you ever think about that night?â he asked suddenly.
I didnât need to ask which one. âYeah,â I said. âSometimes.â
He opened his eyes, turning to me. âYou were right, you know. It did hurt for a reason.â
I reached over, threading my fingers through his. âAnd now?â
âNow it feels worth it.â
We sat there for a while, neither of us saying anything, just listening to the faint hum of the city â the sound of home. The noise of people spilling out of bars, kids laughing, a car horn somewhere far off. Life, going on.
After a minute, he turned to me with that same grin Iâd fallen for years ago. âYou think you can handle another season of this?â
I laughed, leaning my head on his shoulder. âAs long as itâs with you.â
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my hair. âDeal.â
Outside, the stadium lights flickered once more before fading completely, disappearing into the night. But inside the car â with his hand in mine and that easy quiet between us â everything felt exactly right.
Because this wasnât just the end of a season.
It was the beginning of everything else.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Itâs inspired by real people but entirely imaginary. Created for entertainment, not profit. I too was looking for ernie clement fanfics, oneshots, canons, etc. and couldnt find any so i made my own and thought to share them.
I will happily take prompts.
After the lights go out.
The cheers had turned into silence.
Even from the tunnel, I could still hear the faint hum of the crowd outside â a mix of celebration and heartbreak. The kind of sound that clings to your chest long after the final out.
When I spotted him, sitting alone on the bench in the nearly empty dugout, the rest of the world just⊠faded. His cap was pulled low, his jersey streaked with dirt, and his hands hung limp between his knees. The scoreboard lights flickered above â cruel reminders of what could have been.
I walked over slowly, not wanting to startle him.
He didnât look up when I said his name.
âErn?â
His jaw tightened. I could see the muscles move, like he was chewing on words he didnât know how to say. Then his eyes finally met mine â red-rimmed, tired, and still shining with that quiet determination that made everyone fall in love with him this season.
âI shouldâve done more,â he murmured. âOne more hit. One play different. Thatâs all it wouldâve taken.â
I sank down beside him, close enough that our shoulders brushed. The dugout smelled like clay, sweat, and that faint tang of sunflower seeds he always kept in his pocket. âYou did everything you could,â I said softly. âEveryone knows it.â
He shook his head, staring at the field â empty now, littered with blue confetti that wasnât for them. âDoesnât feel like it.â
I reached for his hand. His fingers were rough, scraped from diving plays and batting practice, but when they wrapped around mine, they trembled just slightly. âYou played your heart out, Ernie. Thatâs more than most people ever get to say.â
For a long time, he didnât answer. Just leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the dirt like he could rewrite what happened out there. I could see the weight of the whole season pressing down on him â every game, every at-bat, every time heâd said next time.
So I leaned in until my forehead rested against his shoulder.
âHey,â I whispered. âItâs okay to let it hurt.â
Thatâs when I felt his chest hitch â just once. And then again.
He turned, finally, and buried his face into my hair, his arms coming around me with a desperation that broke my heart and healed it all at once. I held him there, letting the noise of the stadium fade into nothing.
After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes glassy but calmer. âYou always know what to say.â
I smiled, brushing a bit of dirt off his cheek. âThatâs my job, isnât it?â
He laughed â quiet, shaky, but real.
And as the lights dimmed over the field, he squeezed my hand and said, âNext year. Weâll get it next year.â
sheâs a social media influencer in Toronto. her and ernie have done a few interviews and stuff together & are secretly dating (friends know, just not fans) with their fans shipping them
sheâs invited to throw out the first pitch at the game & ernie catches it
your phone is glowing on the nightstand, screen buzzing over and over, pale light catching on the rumpled white sheets twisted around your ankle. youâre lying on your stomach, cheek pressed to the pillow that smells like detergent and a little like himâlike the warmth of skin and the crisp tang of last nightâs cologne. your finger scrolls through tiktok, the sound off but the captions rolling by in frantic all-caps: âso are they or arenât they??â âernie clement did NOT just drop the fire emojis under her thirst trap.â âiâm so here for this ship.â
you press your face harder into the pillow to stifle the laugh bubbling in your chest, because the bed dips behind you and you feel his hand flatten between your shoulder blades. his palm is dry and warm, trailing slow down your spine until his thumb hooks in the waistband of your sleep shorts. heâs not even awake awake yetâyou can tell by the way he hums, low and scratchy, before clearing his throat and mumbling something you canât quite catch. the beard scrapes lightly along your shoulder when he shifts closer.
you lift your phone just enough for him to see. âcongratulations,â you say, voice still raspy with sleep, âyou broke the internet.â
he squints at the screen, icy blue eyes bleary, hair sticking up in chaotic angles that make you want to smooth it down. he huffs out a little laugh, the exhale warm against your bare skin. âtheyâre gonna figure it out eventually.â
you snort. âtheyâve basically figured it out.â your thumb hovers over the comments. âlook at this oneââif theyâre not dating iâm deleting this app.ââ
ernie leans in to read it, his beard brushing your neck so you shiver. he kisses the spot absently. âtell them not to delete it. your engagement numbers would drop.â
you elbow him lightly, and he finally laughs for real, husky and sleepy, before tugging you onto your side so he can bury his face against your collarbone. you can feel the smile against your skin. your phone buzzes between you, the screen lighting up with another tiktok notification. he groans. âput that thing away.â
âyouâre the one who commented the fire emojis.â
âyeah,â he mutters, pressing another kiss into the hollow of your throat, voice going rough and muffled, ââcause you looked good.â
â
by the time youâre at the stadium the sun is high and relentless, glaring off the glass of the dome and baking the sidewalk until the air feels like itâs shimmering. you have your hair pulled back tight, makeup set to withstand anything, and your nerves crawling up your spine in little pricks of static. your name is on the big board. your name, in lights. you take a slow breath, the scent of freshly mown grass and hot concrete and popcorn drifting around you as you try to look nonchalant.
ernie meets you at the tunnel, already in uniformâwhite pants, blue jersey, the logo snug across his broad chest. the cap shadows his eyes but when he tilts his head back to look at you, theyâre bright, that frosty blue that makes you want to kiss him stupid. you see the twitch of his mouth like heâs trying not to grin.
âyou lookââ
âdonât say it,â you cut in, shooting him a look. âif you say ânervousâ iâm gonna smack you.â
he just shrugs, easy. âwas gonna say gorgeous, sweetheart, but alright.â
you roll your eyes, but youâre biting back a smile.
âyou ready?â he asks, voice low. you can hear the murmur of the crowd, the call-and-response of vendors, the crackle of the announcerâs voice over the PA.
âas iâll ever be.â
he nudges your arm. âyouâre gonna be fine. just throw it.â
âwow. amazing advice.â
âthatâs why they pay me the big bucks.â
you snort, but your fingers brush his as you walk out toward the field. the grass is so green it almost hurts to look at it, cut short and sharp, the dirt of the mound dry and powdery under your sneakers. you hear the hush of the crowd, the growing wave of noise as they see you.
you inhale. slow. your heart hammering against your ribs.
ernie crouches behind the plate, glove out, cap low, eyes on you like thereâs nobody else in the whole damn place. he gives you the tiniest nod. your fingers tighten on the ball.
you wind up. let it go. itâs not perfectâwobbles a bit, but it makes it to him. the sound of leather smacking leather echoes and he holds it up triumphantly, the crowd cheering.
he straightens, grin spreading wide enough you can see it all the way from the mound. and then heâs jogging up to you.
the stadium noise swells, like a held breath.
youâre smiling so hard it hurts your face when he reaches you. he curls a hand around your waist, careful but firm, sweaty glove discarded, and leans in.
the kiss is quick, but sure. lips brushing warm and solid over yours. the roar of the crowd goes sharp and delighted, a collective whoop and scattered applause.
when you break away, his beard tickles your cheek and you realize youâre on the jumbotron. you can see it in your peripheryâthe two of you framed against the bright summer sky, the little smudge of his thumbprint on your chin from where he cupped your face.
you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear, âweâre so busted.â
ernie snorts, eyes crinkling at the corners, the tiniest flush climbing his neck. âyou think they didnât know?â
you breathe out a laugh, tucking your head against his chest for a second, letting the noise of the stadium wash over you. the scent of dirt and grass and his laundry soap clings to him, warm and steady.
and when you finally turn and wave at the crowd, he lingers just behind you, his hand pressed light to your lower back, grounding you while your heart tries to beat out of your chest.
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blakekathryn
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