The sun is bright, the birds are singing, the day is young. It's your very first day working as an admin assistant in the Parks department of Waystar Royco. It's not your first choice, or second, or third, or fourth, or fifth.... But New York City is expensive, and you need this job. Plus, it pays well enough you can give up your occasional bartending shifts, and it comes with health insurance. Plus, you figure, one year here will give you the experience (and line on your resume) to get a job at a less, well.... controversial, company.
You arrive bright and early. The lady at the front desk is nice; she gives you a temp ID badge (to be replaced later in the day) and directs you to Parks, 14th floor. She says they'll get you situated, and then pass you along to HR for your paperwork.
It's quarter to 9 right now. You could go right to your desk - being there a bit early on your first day is bound to make a good impression, and again, you need this to work. But you also know that Logan Roy is in the hospital, and there's a new head of Parks starting today (the lady at the front desk told you so), so maybe there's enough chaos for you to make a quick detour and get in unnoticed? A company like this is going to have free coffee in their breakroom - and who knows how strict they are about coffee breaks once you clock in. Plus, with Logan in the hospital, there's bound to be drama on the top floor, and you don't know how often you'll get to head up there.
You could use a shit, too. It's not urgent or anything, but you know what they say - boss makes a dollar, I make a dime, that's why I shit on company time. And this company is making a lot of dollars.
What do you do?
report to my desk - I want to make a good first impression on the new boss
I NEED coffee, stat - looking for a breakroom
I'm taking the elevator all the way up to snoop the executive floor
time to get my money's worth - I'm looking for a bathroom. a NICE one
Pairing: Mostly Dean x reader, though there is some stuff involving Sam and Leah (OFC)
Word count: 1068
Warnings: Some F/F action, but generally it’s just pure smut.
Summary: This is a part of the CYOSTODA-thing hosted by the awesome @littlegreenplasticsoldier, so if you don’t know what it is about, i suggest you go check out the Choose Your Own Supernatural Truth Or Dare Adventure Mastermess, ‘cause this has been awesome.
If you want to follow the direct path to my little piece, you can use the links below:
Part 1: Setup by @littlegreenplasticsoldier
Part 2: Dean Picks Dare by @eyes-of-a-disney-princess
Part 3: Leah Picks Truth by @revwinchester
Part 4: Sam Picks Dare by @kittenofdoomage
P5 Y/N picks truth by @babypieandwhiskey
Enjoy!
You waited a couple of seconds, eyes gliding over the body of the stunned Dean Winchester as you waited for his answer, the hands massaging your breasts and making you fight to control the sounds trying to escape your lips not stopping for a mere moment.
His mouth was hanging wide open, gaze lingering on the show the three of you were putting on. He was in another world, that much was clear to you.
You nearly whimpered as one of Sam's hands was replaced with the mouth of a certain hot lady sitting in front of you, a wanton moan escaping instead as the combined pleasure of soft, small lips on your breast and big chapped ones on your neck found its way to your core, the dampness of your panties increasing.
The sound seemed to bring him out of his trance, and he let his tongue swipe slowly, teasingly, over his full bottom lip, making you quiver with desire. Looking right into your eyes, he winked at you, before answering the question, that you, by the look on your face, had long forgotten you had even asked.
"Truth."
Oh how you wished he would have picked dare.
You could have dared him to do so many things, and all the clothes he was wearing… damn it. So many possibilities, lost.
The hands and the lips suddenly disappeared from your flushed skin, three pairs of eyes now staring at your nearly naked form, though only two were visible from where you were sitting. They were waiting in anticipation to hear what you would come up with to further speed things up, and with the desperation creeping up on you at the sudden loss of contact, you wanted to hurry up and come up with a good question.
And there it was.
"Would you rather watch or join the party?"
Even though you already had a feeling of what the answer would be, you gasped as he crawled across the floor, old floorboards creaking beneath him as the weight shifted.
And then he was right beside you, warm breath tickling you on your neck, a thread of whispered words filling your ear and making you putty in his hands.
"While the view is great, I would never pass up the chance of getting to feel you around me."
He took both your hands in his, gently helping you untangle yourself from Leah and the younger brother, before scooping you up in his arms and placing you on the biggest of the two beds. You were in for a hell of a ride.
You thought the Winchester brothers looked hot with clothes on, so when they stripped down, you nearly combusted. They were like Greek gods. No, scratch that, they were more handsome than that. You craved their touch, craved the feeling of fingertips running softly down your sides, down your thighs, over your ankles, and up again. Running up the insides of your thighs, teasing you by narrowly missing your core but giving you a bit of what you wanted, what you needed, by rolling your nipples between thumb and index finger. Wet kisses trailed up your stomach. Then down again.
The rest of your clothes came off, pulled from your needy body by his warm hands, and you closed your eyes and let the feeling of his breath ghosting over your newly uncovered skin wash over you. And then the feeling was gone.
You lifted your head from the pillow and opened your eyes. Sam and Leah fell down onto the other bed. And right in front of you was your Adonis leaning over you, watching, appreciating, emerald green gaze sliding over your naked form, his tongue darting out to once again wet his lips, his eyes suddenly meeting yours. Bending over, he puts his hands on the bed, then his knees. Crawling towards you. Mouth now by your ear, he whispers: "So what is your favorite position?"
You turned your head, the green orbs staring directly into your soul. "I'll show you," you whispered back, naked bodies sliding against each other as you made him lay down on his back. Straddling his hips, you leaned down, your chests touching as you let the next words slide over your lips. "I love the feeling of power this gives me."
Scooting down a bit, you pressed kisses on his neck, then collarbone, then chest. Hand gripping onto his throbbing length, lifting your body up, hovering over him, before sliding down on his member. He's stretching you in that perfect way, filling you up completely.
He wanted this as much as you did, you felt that when his fingertips dug into the soft flesh on your hips, undoubtedly leaving bruises. He held you, adjusted the angle, and hit that sweet spot that makes you arch your back, throw your head back, nearly screaming with the surge of pure pleasure rushing through you. You locked eyes with Leah over Sam's shoulder as they sit there, with bodies pressed against each other, Lotus-ing away.
You wanted to do that later. Maybe with Sam, maybe with Dean. Maybe with both.
You wanted to taste Leah's juices on your tongue, and the salty sweat from her skin as you kiss your way down her body.
And when you had had a break somewhere between 2 and 3 am, having taken a shower with the beautiful girl, you would make her sit back and watch as you pleasured both of the Winchesters.
The night was still young, and you had more than enough time to do what you wanted.
Soft, hard, somewhere in between.
Around 5 am you fell asleep with Dean pressed against your back, and Leah against your front, Gigantor laying on the other side of Leah, trying not to roll off the bed, which clearly wasn't meant for 4 people.
A whole year had passed since that night and you still had no idea how you were even able to fit on that crappy motel bed, but at least you still met up with Leah once in awhile, though not always bringing the boys with you. That was your little secret. But when you did bring them, which was actually more often than not, you were sure to have a great night.
Not as good as that first night though. That one, you'll never forget.
Tags:
@wheresthekillswitch
@jensen-jarpad
@27bmm
@notnaturalanahi
@deathtonormalcy56
@just-another-busy-fangirl
@mysteriouslyme81
@mousehybrid
@atc74
@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid
@supernatural-jackles
@dontcallmebabe-ok
@impala-dreamer
@katymacsupernatural
@keepcalmandcarryondean - It won’t let me tag you :’(
@onetwothreefuckmeplease - Won’t let me tag you either :’(
Characters: Dean, Leah, Sam and Reader
Location: Motel room, Crappsville, USA.
Word Count: 2200ish (wordy4lyfe! It goes quick)
Summary: Sam hits you with an easy truth, but Leah wants to know more, and Y/N ends up daring Dean
Warnings: None really, sexual innuendos, and being in Dean’s lap ;)
See @littlegreenplasticsoldier‘s Master Mess
The road so far..
@littlegreenplasticsoldier Part 1
@gemini75eeyore Part 2
@deandoesthingstome Part 3
@rizlowwritessortof Part 4
You’re blushing, and you’re all getting giggly, and this suddenly seems like the best idea anyone’s ever had. “So, whose turn is it? Is it my turn?”
Sam gets that evil, seductive smirk on his face again as he nods. “Oh, yeah, Y/N. It’s your turn. So, what’s it gonna be? Truth or dare?”
With the whiskey making a nice, warm run through your body, combined with the revelation you’ve been a possible source of a few Winchester wet dreams, you hold tightly to the extra courage it’s given you and mirror his evil, seductive smirk back at him as you mull it over. “Well, as tempted as I am to want your dare, after those barefaced admissions, I’m gonna bet you…” pausing briefly, you glance at Dean making sure you’ve got his full attention before looking back to Sam, “…are curious to know, do I give the two finger salute to you? Or do I think of Dean over there when I need to check my oil?” Looking over to Dean again, his eyebrows lift in interest, lips pulling into a smirk when you throw him a playful little wink for your play on words. “Or maybe, I’m finger dippin’ to the two of you at the same time? So hit me with it, truth. What do ya wanna to know?” You internally high five yourself for the choice of words and slide the smirk back into place.
Without missing a beat, or even so much as a blink he asks, “Y/N, have you ever gotten off on thoughts of me, or Dean?” He’s not letting up on that god awful sexy little smirk of his, and his eyes are practically piercing your soul now; or is it your nether region? He really is loosening up now with that bold question.
Your liquid courage has a perfect answer for him too. “A girl has needs. Of course I get my rocks off as often as I please, but a lady has to have a few secrets, Sam.” Holding his stare you smile sweetly and slowly raise your glass to your lips. Dean grunts out a laugh, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips as he leans back against the cupboards, bringing one knee up to rest an arm on it as the other leg lays relaxed against the grimy carpet.
Sam’s mouth turns down in approval, nodding as he takes that in. The gears are still moving inside of that head of his though, and he’s about to say something more when Leah chimes in, “Well Y/N, I have a truth for you, sticking to this topic of self satisfaction and half naked bodies.” Her smile is wide as she shifts her legs around to cross them. “I want to know, what do you find to be the sexiest aspect of each brother?”
“This outta be good,” Dean smiles.
Your cheeks grow warm at having been put on the spot again. Sure, the brothers had to of assumed you’ve excavated your cave on more than one occasion with your recent lack of action, but damn, now you have to get specific about which parts you literally thought about? You were breathing a little sigh of relief with Sam’s easy truth, but it seems she’s asking what Sam may have been looking for originally.
“Are we talking physical aspects? Or characteristics?” you clarify, hoping you didn’t have to divulge the physical parts you’ve noticed the most day in and day out.
Sam gives her a conspiratorial wink and looks at you with an expectant smile, as Dean’s got his eyebrow pulled up to attention, his face giving zero clue to his thoughts, and Leah’s slyly smirking as she answers, “I know they’ve both been complete gentlemen so far tonight, and since you see them regularly, how about both.”
You let out a slow breath through your nose and decide to go for it. Brave Y/N, be brave. Someone’s gotta bend this tension filled room a little further, right?
“Well…” you begin, looking between each brother, lingering on Dean across the way, taking in the perfect spread of his long legs, eyes gleaming as he sits there patiently.
You set your glass on the carpet and rise to your knees, catching Sam’s eyes. “Sam here, he’s very much a gentleman, and one who’s always willing to put your needs ahead of his own.” You slowly make your way closer to him as you speak, looking over your shoulder at Leah until you’re behind him, and set your hands on his shoulders. “The sexiest thing about Sam, if you ask me… is his mind. He’s smart. Too smart sometimes for his own good. I mean the things he can do with a computer…” You raise one hand, fanning yourself dramatically, Sam’s head dropping forward as his shoulders shake with laughter. “You want logic and fact, he’s your go-to guy. He’s definitely the more logical one of the two.” You give her a playful wink feeling his hand rest over yours and give it a tiny squeeze, catching Dean eye-rolling so hard you can almost feel it.
Threading your fingers with his you pull his hand up. “Then you have these.” You unwind your fingers and he leaves his hand up in the same position as he follows your lead. “Just look at the size of that hand, huge right? Those long, dexterous fingers. I mean they just give a girl all kinds of wandering thoughts watching them at work… or even at rest; paging along a book, through papers, his hair, anything.”
You ruffle his hair some with a smile, before turning your attention to the other brother. “And then you have Dean over here.” He’s a little further away from Sam so you drop your hands to the floor, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and slowly crawl towards him. And by slow, it’s slow. He’s just far enough away you can drag it out a little bit.
He shifts to sit up straighter at the attention, eyes locking with yours as you move. “Fearless, selfless Dean,” you sigh. Sam’s leaning back some, unable to keep his eyes from dragging over your form in this position; your back arched just so, and you can feel Leah doing the same, her own lip between her teeth as she hangs on each word. “Don’t be fooled by his macho man act, because while he’s 200% man in there, underneath it all lies a huge, bleeding heart of gold. The love he has for his family, blood or not; the amount that he cares about those he’s allowed in, he’d do anything and everything for them… and that, is the sexiest thing about Dean.” You’re between his spread legs when you stop, both of them now raised at the knee to make room for you. Rising up you sit back on your heels. He looks away shaking his head with a disbelieving half smile, but you know you’ve struck something inside; you can feel it pulsing off of him.
Shifting closer to him, you move until your knees rest against the bottom of his thighs. “Then you have that mouth of his.”
His eyes slide back to yours, head tilting along with his mood. He swipes his tongue out to wet his lips, pulling your attention to them, and that damn eyebrow is arching again indicating you’ve got his full attention.
You have to clear your throat to reign in your wayward thoughts the small action provoked so you could speak again. “Those plush lips, full of sass and bad jokes. And as funny as he thinks he is, you will never prepare yourself for his charm. Boy, can he lay it on thick too. He’s smoother than fresh butter when he’s in the zone.”
He scoffs rolling his eyes, and you bust into a fit of giggles. “Aw, you thought I was going to talk about how soft and supple they are, didn’t you?”
“Actually, yeah. I kinda did. Gotta say I’m a little disappointed there, Y/N.”
It’s your turn to roll your eyes. What is with these three calling you out right now? “Ok, fine,” you sigh with fake exasperation.
When you had started this truth, you had a plan of mentioning it, for dramatics, but decided to keep that bit of information to yourself, locked away for those nights you were alone in your own bed. The alcohol, however, had loosened you up a lot further than you originally thought now that you’d made it this far. That, combined with the light headed feeling you got from Dean’s blatant staring at your mouth at the moment, you decide to jump in feet first.
“To say I’ve never looked for extended periods of time, being with them as long as I have, would be a lie,” you start.
“Stared would be more accurate,” Leah interjects, nodding at you suggestively when you look at her over your shoulder.
“True, but I can’t be obvious here. I do se-”
“Sure you can,” Dean cuts in, practically giving you whiplash with how fast your head turns. “I wouldn’t mind.”
You quirk your eyebrow up, pursing your lips as you scan his over his face. “I know you don’t. Just one look at them, pouting naturally, subtly inviting the viewer closer. How could one not want to see just how soft they really are? To run their tongue along the soft, supple flesh, nibble and suck at that full bottom lip, feel them work across their skin.”
His eyes have gone a shade darker as you talked about him, the two of you now staring at the others mouth he responds, “The feelings mutual sweetheart.”
You both bring your eyes up to meet the others at the same time.
“Well Dean, then I dare you to find out if its true. Kiss me.”
He takes an audible deep breath in, slowly leaning the upper half of his body forward, and places his hands on your thighs.
“Whoa, guys, that’s not the rules of the game,” Sam speaks up.
Not breaking eye contact your hand flies up, arm outstretched behind as you to hold a finger up, one of Dean’s hands doing the same, signalling him to give you a minute. He’s moving just a little slower than you thought he would given the vibe he was putting off, and with the nerves bubbling in your stomach to confirm if he actually felt the same, you reach up and place your hands on his shoulders, pulling his mouth to yours.
You both simultaneously sigh when your lips lock, his hands coming up to take your face between his wide palms and press his lips harder against his. You push into it with him, feeling the confirmation he wanted this too as you tilt your head to the other side, sliding your lips along his for a different angle. He follows your lead, and with the warmth of arousal spreading across your body at the contact, you lick along his bottom lip, asking for entrance.
Sliding your tongue tentatively in, he happily meets you in the middle, and the smooth slide of the muscles against one another has you both moaning in appreciation, like you’re devouring the most delicious meal you’ve ever tasted.
It’s getting steamier the deeper the kiss gets. Your hands have run their way into his hair, as his have trailed down your back, settling into the curve of your lower back, pulling you closer as he moves straighter to press you against him. You climb over his raised thighs, accepting the invitation for connection and he lowers his legs in response once you’re over, wrapping his arms tighter around you.
The contact is heady. The kiss is heady. God he’s amazing at this. He was not lying either about how good that mouth of his is. Your breathless and wanting more as you settle down in his lap, melting into his warmth, a grin forming against his lips when you feel how much he’s enjoying this beneath his zipper as he presses his hips tentatively against yours.
You’re beginning to wish the other two weren’t present so you could rip his clothes off, and feel all of his smooth skin against yours. The ache between your legs is quickly going from a dull roar to a full fledged fire, and if this keeps going, your cares might completely fly out the window and they’ll really get a show. But you don’t want it to stop.
Sam clears his throat, and you barely register the sound, too lost in the feeling of Dean’s mouth against yours. He hasn’t noticed either, even when Sam clears his throat again, Leah giving him a shrug as she smirks, amused watching the two of you go at it like horny teenagers.
“You guys want us to leave? Or do you want to continue playing the game?”
It isn’t until Sam speaks that you finally pull away from each other, the two of you breathing like you’d just run a mile. Smiling you shrug at Dean who rolls his eyes at his brothers comment. Someone sounds a teeny bit jealous…
Dean leans closer, dropping his voice so only you could hear. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. Because I have also…”
You slowly slide off his lap to the ground, and place your hands on the floor behind you as you carefully move away, crawling backwards towards your original spot. “I believe it’s your turn, right Dean?” You put on your best sexy little smile, one you’ve used a time or two to get information you needed. “Truth… or dare?”
Dean picks truth (he tries ;) ) by @kreborn17 HERE
Dean picks dare (well, tries to ;) ) by @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog HERE
Link to the Choose Your Own Supernatural Truth or Dare Adventure MasterMess moderated by the amazing @littlegreenplasticsoldier
I am following Dean Picks Truth by @gemini75eeyore
“Ok Leah, your turn. Truth or Dare?”
Leah shifted a little on the floor, trying to get comfortable. Her butt was falling asleep. She bit the inside of her cheek, contemplating Dean’s inquiry.
“Dare,” she blurted.
Both Dean and Sam’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at her answer. She shrugged, her smile widening, and winked at Y/N. Again. She appreciated the blush she got in return.
Dean glanced around the room. It was obvious the wheels in his head were spinning. After a second, he picked up one of the empty beer bottles sitting beside him and tossed it into the center of the rough circle they were sitting in.
“Spin the bottle. Whoever it lands on, you have to kiss. Boy or girl.” He sat back, a smirk on his face.
“Okay,” Leah shrugged. She could totally do this. She rose up on her knees and reached for the bottle.
“Wait!” Dean held out his hand, stopping her. “And I mean kiss, Leah, really kiss. Not some quick peck on the cheek. Lips, tongue, sucking face, the whole nine yards. Still want Dare?”
She sat back on her haunches, staring at the three people she’d only just met. Three relatively attractive people, three people that she wouldn’t have any problem kissing, under normal circumstances. And while this was definitely not normal, she wasn’t about to shy away from a challenge.
“Yep,” she grinned. She grabbed the bottle and spun it. The shitty, worn carpet didn’t deter the bottle in any way, it spun perfectly six or seven times before it began to slow, finally coming to a halt.
Pointing right at Sam.
Leah watched Sam as she crawled across the circle toward him. He had an easy grin on his face, one side of his mouth tipped up just a little, his hazel eyes sparkling, two fingers loosely wrapped around the bottle in his hand. A low chuckle came from him when she stopped in front of him, resting her hands on her thighs as she sat looking at him for a few seconds.
“What’re you waiting for?” he asked, the challenge clear in his voice. “An engraved invitation?”
Leah giggled and before she could change her mind, she pushed his arms off of his knees where they’d been resting and crawled between his spreadeagled legs. She took his face in both of her hands, tipped his head back and leaned over him.
Sam’s lips were warm and soft. Her tongue danced across the lower one, urging him to open his mouth. He smiled, shaking his head just a little, the ends of his soft brown hair tickling her fingers. She pushed herself a little closer, until her knees were pressed against his inner thighs. One of Sam’s hands fell to her waist, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, his mouth finally opening, her tongue sliding inside. His nose was smashed against the side of her face, the hand not on her waist curling in her hair, pulling her closer until she felt like he might devour her.
God, the man could kiss. Leah could have sat there all night, kissing this man who was a perfect stranger, hoping it might lead to more.
The sound of Dean clearing his throat to her right brought her back to reality. She broke off the kiss, reluctantly, Sam’s lips chasing hers as she pulled away.
“Okay, so we’ve established that Leah isn’t afraid to take a Dare,” Dean chuckled. “Who’s next?”
Leah kept her eyes on Sam, watching the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the slight pink to his cheeks, the way his eyes flashed when he smiled at her, the way he licked his lips as she stared at him.
“Sam,” she murmured. “Truth or Dare?”
Sam Picks Truth by @klaineaholic
Sam Picks Dare and then so does Y/N by @notnaturalanahi
(Let’s all pretend it’s still November, okay? Cool)
Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam, Nayan (Frank, Nate & Daniel mentioned)
Word Count: 5.5k- Sorry...kinda, but mostly not
Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, angst, SMUT
A/N: Here we have another final installment for the amazing Choose Your Own Supernatural Adventure, November Edition. I know it’s not November anymore, but things happened. I hope you enjoy it, and if you’ve got feedback, I’d love to hear it. Big hugs and love to @kayteonline for her support and beta work. Did you know that she’s the best of the best?
Go back and refresh your memory:
Part One by @littlegreenplasticsoldier
Part Two by @kayteonline
Part Three by @moonlitskinwalker
“Now, Y/N, how about I introduce myself” he sneered, and you saw him take a step closer.
The vampire was a few feet in front of you, the stairs mere inches behind you… dare you try and make a break for it? You could try retrieving the machete, or even bolting back to your car. Suddenly, having Sam around as an extra pair of hands sounded very appealing.
But could you really just abandon Dean so easily?
“I’m Nayan, and I believe you’ve been looking for me.”
“God damn it,” you puff out in response, your chest suddenly painfully tight. “Dean?!” you yell, trying to rouse him, but get no response.
Your eyes flick between his form and Nayan’s. So much for that Winchester reputation; twice now he’s shown up and messed up your plans, only to get himself knocked out. You know he’s got to have a machete on him, but it’s too risky to try to get to it. Your eyes narrow as you try to get a clearer image of the vampire in front of you. Your feet slide backward up the first few steps as Nayan remains still.
“You seem a bit shocked, Y/n. I imagine you’ve thought of this moment in countless ways. Nothing quite like this, though, hmm?”
“No, not exactly,” you manage to steadily reply, your foot shifting up another step. Nayan makes the smallest motion forward, mimicking your movement, a slant of sunlight now illuminating his gaunt face. “I would’ve chopped your head off by now.”
Your machete couldn’t have gotten far, you reason, just a quick push out the door and you would grab it, back in no time.
“Oh, my dear, are you planning on leaving another hunter behind?”
“What?” Your blood runs cold, “No, no, I’m not - I didn’t leave anyone behind.”
He tut-tuts you. “Are you quite certain of that? I think, that if Nate were here, he may beg to differ,” he says, too much mirth in his tone.
Your jaw stiffens up, nostrils flaring at the name coming from his lips. “But he’s not here, all thanks to you.”
“Oh no, it’s because of you. You left him.”
“No, that’s not true. I fought and I fought,” your voice cracks. “I couldn’t do anything. I was about to die.” Your fists clench at your sides, hands feeling useless without a weapon.
“But here you are. You lived to fight another day. To be quite the inconvenience, honestly. And Nate was left to die - and he did - but I assure you, it was neither quick or painless. Just as your death will be.” Even without moving, he seemed to be advancing, the menace in his words making the world shrink around you. You move up another step, head bowing now under the closed door. “We fed on him for weeks,” he hissed. “He cried and begged, he called out for you over and over, sure that you would find him and save him.”
“Shut up!” you growl as you drag your nails along the wood, pushing it open and stumbling back with the momentum. You trip across the threshold, trying to keep an eye on Nayan as you make your way out to retrieve your weapon. You clumsily crawl backwards across the dead leaves and grass. Nayan calmly makes his way up the steps of the shelter after you, but halts at the opening.
“Hunter’s blood is always such a treat. When we were done, we left him for the animals.”
“No!” the scream rips from your throat. “Dean,” you plead, “Dean, get the fuck up!” Nayan grabs the door, ducking down and slamming it closed, shutting him and Dean inside.
“No! NO nonono! Dean!” Your screams echo through the open field and into the woods around you. Your hands are sprawled on the ground, digging into the dirt.
You fling yourself over, crawling on hands and knees, scanning the ground for your machete. The gleam of the metal just a few feet away catches your eye. You sprawl across the patchy earth, wrapping your fingers around the handle just as you hear a thunk followed by a dull smack from the storm shelter.
“Damn it Dean!” you sob. If he hadn’t shown up, you would have had your weapon. You’d be toe-to-toe with Nayan right now, not crying on the ground, scrambling to save him. Your face feels wet as tears pour from your eyes - still wide with horror at Nayan’s accusations. You breathe through gritted teeth, fast and shallow, while panic and guilt rest like a weight in your gut.
“Nayan, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you grit out. Pushing up off the ground, you rush over to the shelter door. A yank of the handle confirms he’s latched it. “Don’t you fucking touch him, you hear me!”
You lean back, lifting a foot to stomp your foot against the weather-warped wood. You just hope the age and decay works to your advantage. Angry grunts and yelps escape you each time you lower your foot. The wood creaks and splinters before one of the boards finally cracks. A groan rises up from somewhere inside.
“Dean, get up, GET UP!” you scream through the boards. You take a moment to check inside, looking between the broken boards, but in the contrast of light, you can’t make out anything.
“Y/n!” a voice yells from somewhere; the sound of it echoes in the trees.
“Sam! Sam! The storm shelter! It’s Dean, help me!” you holler into the air, assuming he knows where to find you.
You step back to continue your assault on the door, just hoping that you won’t be too late. Your skin is damp with sweat, jagged splinters of wood jab at your leg, and your stomach muscles ache from the effort.
“Nayan” kick “you fucking” kick “son of a” kick “fucking bitch” kick. Rage, panic, adrenaline - your body feels consumed, one reckless goal the only thing on your mind: get Nayan, save Dean. Footsteps advance behind you. You swing around, jaw and neck tight, skin flushed bright red while beads of sweat roll down your brow, your machete clenched in your hand, ready to strike.
A breathless Sam raises his hands, one still holding tight to his own weapon, blood splattered across his torso. “Whoa, just me, Y/n.”
“Sam! He’s in there!” You turn back to continue your assault on the door, not providing any further explanation. A grunt followed by an anguished moan from inside the storm cellar draws both yours and Sam’s attention. You share a panicked look as he makes his way over, pushing you swiftly to the side. He lifts one massive boot and slams it down to the cracked boards, smashing them before jerking his arm inside, yanking at the latch holding the door closed.
“Dean?!” he yells, his voice strained.
“Get your ass down here, Sammy,” he shouts back, his voice pained.
Sam finally pries the door open, and you both duck into the storm shelter. Disoriented with the change of light, you squint and lean against the wall, watching the two hunters attack Nayan. Dean wobbles slightly, as does Nayan. They rush at him, swinging their weapons, but he manages to twist around them. After a flurry of movement, you find yourself face to face with Nayan, the two hunters holding tight at his torso and arms to keep him back.
“Y/n,” Dean growls, “Do it!”
Your lips straighten into a hard line. You cross your arm over your chest, lifting the machete to reach Nayan’s neck. He snaps his jagged teeth at you in a sinister smile before you swing your weapon, slicing his head clean off his shoulders with an animalistic growl of your own.
Dean and Sam immediately drop his body. The three of you stand in the dark cellar, chests heaving while you all try to catch your breath, the space around you starting to feel humid and stuffy. Sam steps over to Dean, slapping at his shoulders in a relieved hug while he props him up from under his arms. You close your eyes and lean back letting them have their moment. They have a hushed conversation as they check each other out, and you keep your eyes closed, concentrating on controlling your breathing, feeling your chin quiver, your throat constricting with emotion. Your shoulders slump as guilt and exhaustion hit you like a brick wall.
“Asshole,” you grumble, swallowing thickly. “Fucking asshole!” You scream at the headless corpse. The Winchesters heads both snap in your direction, watching as you sink down to your knees, sobs finally escaping your throat as you speak to your conscience.
“Nate, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried…” Your cries consume you then, preventing you from apologizing to any more ghosts as your words turn into incoherent wailing.
Arms wrap around you and you lean into them, hunched over with your face in your hands as you weep and mourn - finally opening the floodgates. The warmth from the set of arms holding you makes the rest of your body feel ice cold as the adrenaline subsides, and the sweat rapidly cools on your skin.
“Sweetheart? Y/n?” the deep voice cuts through your cries. He gently shushes you while he holds onto you tightly, letting you cry until you can’t any more and exhaustion takes over.
Hours later, you wake up in your motel room, dim lights shining through the worn out curtains. You roll over with a deep sigh and a groan.
“Hey there kiddo, how you doing?” Dean asks, sounding as tired as you are, leaning back on a chair.
“I’m sore. And dirty,” you answer, pushing to sit up on the bed, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “Yeah, Sammy patched me up. I’m good. Why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll get us some food.”
You nod and push off the bed, patting his shoulder as you pass to get to the bathroom. Your reflection looks as bad as you imagined. Your face is puffy from crying, hair a wild mess from sweat and fighting. Your skin feels tight and itchy from the dried sweat and dirt caked over it, but you don’t find any major injuries aside from your swollen and scratched up leg, and you let the shower rinse away the mess. You watch the dirt as it swirls around the drain.
‘It’s over. It’s really all over. They’re dead. You've taken them all out. No. Wait.’
Your mind races with worry and you hurry to get out of the bathroom, yanking on a t-shirt and sweats while opening the door.
“Dean,” you rush out. “What are we doing here? What about the bodies, and Frank, and Daniel? Where’s Sam? We have to -”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Everything’s good.” He grabs your forearms, holding you still. “Sam took care of Frank back at that barn and he has a lead on Daniel.” You stiffen up like you’re ready to jump out the door, but he holds you tightly. “He called in another hunter for back-up. Should be closing in on him any time now. He’s got this. You - you need to rest.”
“No. No, he shouldn’t have gone. That’s not on him, this was my job. I should be finishing this,” you grab at your hair. “Oh God! If anything happens…”
Dean turns you toward the table, backing you up until you fall into a chair. “He’s fine, Y/n. You need to eat, and to rest.” He leans down in front of you, still holding onto your arms.
His eyes flicker between yours, waiting for you to acknowledge him, to signal that you’re okay before he lets go. Finally you nod, letting out a tight, tense breath. Dean settles into the chair across from you and waits for you to start eating. You slouch against the table, a year’s worth of tension leaving a sharp ache in your shoulders. After a few bites you break the silence.
“How did you fight him?”
Dean’s eyebrows arch up as his mouth furiously chews at his mouthful of food. “Dead man’s blood,” he wipes his mouth with a napkin then takes a quick swig of beer. “I managed to get a syringe in him, knock him down a few pegs.”
You nod, then go back to eating. A few minutes later you break the silence again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.” You lift your wide eyes to meet his, guilt gnawing at your gut and destroying your appetite.
“No, mm-mm, don’t do that. You have nothing to apologize for. You did what you had to do, it’s the job.” He inhales deeply before adding, “I’m sure Nate knew that, too.”
Your chin begins to tremble, but the sound of Dean’s phone ringing holds you on edge.
“It’s Sam.” He holds the phone to his ear, “Hey.” You can see his shoulders go lax when Sam replies, relieved of his own tension. The rest of Dean’s conversation consists of a string of one word answers that you zone out on. He ends the call, placing his hand over yours to grab your attention.
“It’s done. They took care of Daniel, that nest is finished.” You nod, staring blankly at the carpet. Dean huffs a little, pushing out of his seat to kneel in front of you. “I get it, I do. This isn’t the resolution or whatever you were looking for, but it’s done. What happened to Nate, that’s not on you. You didn’t do that.” He squeezes your thighs, before rubbing a hand over his face. “Hell, if you fought half as hard to help him as you did for me, then he knew, Y/n. He knew that you tried to save him.”
A small, self-conscious smile lifts the corners of your mouth. “Dean, you don’t have to try to make me feel better. Just skip ahead to the ‘I told you so’ part and get it over with. And while we're at it, I officially relieve you of babysitting duty.”
He shook his head. “First of all, you're a grown fucking woman, I'm not babysitting anyone, I’m here because I want to be. Second, I wasn't planning on saying anything like that. We’re alive. You kicked ass.” He tucks his chin down to chuckle. “I mean, you really surprised the hell outta that vamp when you started going berserk on that door.”
A flush of embarrassment makes your cheeks go pink. “Yeah well, I couldn’t let him kill you and deny the ladies of the world this handsome face, now could I?”
“Except, you threw a machete at me.”
“It was a pretty good throw, wasn’t it?”
“Well, you missed, but,” he shrugs.
“I won’t the next time,” you squint at him, teasingly.
“There you go, now you’re thinking clearly.” His thumbs rub absentmindedly back and forth along your thighs. “So, now that you’re done going Kill Bill on those vamps, what are you gonna do?”
You sigh, feeling dumbfounded at the obvious question. “Well, I kept telling myself that I was going to take a break. So I guess I’m on vacation.”
“No shit?”
“Yup. Had this whole grand plan of nothingness. Just me, a beach, some trashy novels, and alcohol. Even planned to upgrade from these shady motels, splurge on a suite.” It felt weird to talk about your plans like they could finally be a reality. It had felt like wishful thinking for so long.
Dean smirked as you daydreamed out loud. “Sounds relaxing...and boring.”
You can’t help the giggle that bursts from you. “It does, doesn’t it?” You shake your head at your foolishness. “Nayan was right. I imagined all of this so differently. I thought I’d feel relieved, refreshed, like once I checked that last mark on my list that I could just tuck it away. But it’s not like that at all. I’m just worn out and I’m anxious, like, what now? I feel like I've forgotten how to do anything else.”
You had isolated yourself for the better part of a year. Constantly on edge, denying yourself anything but anger. It was like the rest of your emotions were trying their damndest to play catch-up after that wall finally crumbled. It felt good to talk to Dean, not at him - even if you did just want to keep calling him handsome. To feel the warmth of him near you - pulling you into his chest. To let yourself smile and have it be genuine. It made a new feeling spread through your chest, your craving for anger replaced by something a little softer.
“It’s tough losing people. Then having that asshole digging into you like that...I’m just saying. I know this hasn’t been the easiest day - “
“Year,” you interrupt. He nods, accepting your correction.
“Yeah. If you want - If there’s, uhh,” he pauses, clearing his throat, “Look, I just think you kicked ass and you deserve to feel good about it. You know? You can relax, you’ve more than earned it.” He nods at you.
Your mind drifts to yesterday morning, and waking up with Dean. His hands lazily roaming your body, the way his lips skimmed along your neck and shoulders. You take your lip between your teeth when you remember the feeling of his hard cock rubbing along your ass. Your shoulders heave as you draw in tight breaths, cheeks burning at the memory of undressing him.
One of Dean’s hands leaves your thigh, making you shudder with the loss of heat. His fingers lift your chin, thumb swiping up to pull your lip out from between your teeth, the skin going white from pressure.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that. Okay, you’re alive. We’re alive. Don’t get upset with yourself for any of it.”
“Oh. No. Dean, that’s not…” He must have thought you were getting ready to cry. His bright green eyes search your face, trying to get a read on you. His look is sympathetic and open. His grip on your lower thigh gets firmer, keeping you grounded, comforted. It only spurs the feelings on even more; craving more contact, more of his warmth, and more of his solid pressure all around you.
“Sweetheart, I mean it. Anything I can do.”
He swallows and clenches his jaw. It looks like a nervous gesture, and it gives you the courage to let your next words slip out. You wonder, then hope that he’s thinking the same things you are.
“Will you? Please, touch me, Dean,” you whisper.
His lips part, tongue slipping out to lick at them. His eyes slowly roam down, then back up your body, reassessing the signals, taking your body in as you leaned ever-so-slightly toward him.
“Where?” his voice rasps.
“Everywhere,” you barely manage to breathe out. Your body tingles from head to toe - worry, anticipation, arousal, all flooding your system at once. His fingers twitch under your chin, his thumb still resting below your lip. You tilt your head down, pressing a soft lick then kiss to the pad of his thumb. He blinks, long and slow, keeping his eyes closed while he takes in your request, his own chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. When he opens his eyes, he’s staring directly into yours, his own need showing in his expression.
His hands move swiftly, cupping your face and pulling you to stand, your lips meeting his at some point in the process. Lips part immediately to taste each other as soft moans and deep exhales escape from the both of you while your feet shuffle, pressing your bodies together. You slide slowly up and down against him, lifting up on your tiptoes, then sinking back down, digging your fingers into his biceps as you hold him tightly.
He pulls his hips away, making you chase his movement, guiding you away from the table to the bed, covers still shifted from where you rested earlier. You feel the edge against the back of your legs and ease yourself down, keeping your lips attached to Dean’s, making him bend with you. One hand rests at the nape of his neck, helping to keep him steady, the other supports your weight behind you. Dean mirrors your placement, helping to settle the two of you onto the bed, and you shimmy further back until your legs no longer dangle off the edge.
You roll to your sides, facing each other as Dean pulls your leg up. He hooks it over his waist, wedging his thigh between yours, pulling at your leg and hip until he’s pressing against your center. You gasp when he applies pressure, rubbing against your clit through your clothes. Your arm trapped under his grasps at his shirt, his shoulder blade, anything it can reach. Your free hand holds onto his waist, pushing up and down, encouraging him and using the leverage to rub against him. You roll your hips sending a jolt of pleasure through you, your body twitches at the sensation.
His lips travel across your cheek, down your neck, over your ear - licking, sucking, and kissing any bare skin they come into contact with.
“You’re amazing,” he huffs out, pushing your shoulders flat against the mattress. The hand stuck between you reaches down to your lower back. You gently arch when he places his hand there, pushing at your hips from behind while you drag and grind against each other. You can feel the slick slide of your panties against your pussy lips with each back and forth between you. The zipper of his jeans is bulged out from his erection and it rubs against your lower stomach.
Your leg is still hooked over him, and his hand slides up grabbing a handful of your ass as it makes the journey upward. Fingers graze and tickle your abdomen, before landing on your breast. A pleased groan escapes Dean when he finds you’re not wearing a bra, your nipple already peaked and sensitive, and he rubs his palm over it, making you toss your head back onto the bed, clamping your eyes shut while you squirm and moan.
“Shit, you’re beautiful,” he says as he nuzzles against you. His thigh is still pressed firmly to your clit, but his hips now lift and rock harder against you. His hand slides down from your breast, over your side and tucks behind your back, both arms now holding you tightly while he props himself up on his elbows. His chin is nudged between your neck and shoulder, hot breath fanning across your skin, and two day-old scruff tickling the sensitive skin there.
“God, Dean.” You shift your knee, pushing at his other leg until he lifts it, allowing you to slide your own further apart, his waist now between them. He never misses a beat, pressing his trapped erection directly against your core, and your hips lift to meet his. You know exactly what he’s got to offer you beneath his pants, and your body goes tense, desperate to feel him.
“Yes,” you moan. “God, Dean. More. Just - more.”
He pulls away, slowly dragging his hands over your skin as he sits back on his heels. Your thighs rest over his, spread wide open by the breadth of his seated position. His hands move even slower as they approach the waistband of your sweats. His fingers graze softly between your hipbones, making your muscles jump until his fingertips reach your mound. He lightly drags them up and down, over your still-clothed center, no doubt feeling the heat radiating from you.
“Okay?” he checks. You nod, licking your lips and waiting for his next move.
His hands reach for the waistband again, this time hooking his fingers inside and pulling them away from you. You lift your legs, straightening them and holding them up in the air, letting Dean slide your sweats and panties up and off. A needy, lustful sound escapes his throat. His rough hands glide down your legs from ankle to thigh then back, careful over your cuts and scrapes. He moves his head, letting both your ankles rest on one wide shoulder. One hand hooks over your ankles, holding them in place, the other tracing a path back down, snaking between your thighs until he reaches your slick lips.
He rolls his head back, his chest rumbling with a grunt as he feels you. You think you hear a quiet ‘fuck’ in there somewhere, but you're too occupied by the drumming of your own heartbeat and containing your own moans to really listen. Two fingertips slide up and down your slit spreading your wetness. They glide over your clit, making your waist lift off the mattress, knees trying to curl in on you.
“A little sensitive?” he whispers, licking his already wet bottom lip. His hand pulls away to rest on the back of your thigh.
You cover your face with your hands, sucking a deep breath through your teeth. “Yeah, a bit. It’s, uhhuh, it’s been a while.” His head twists to place a kiss to your ankle.
“Relax. I got you,” he whispers against you. “Been thinking about this since I woke up with you next to me. So warm, and soft, and ready. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you, I’ve got you.” He rambles while his hand kneads your muscle, his rough hands caressing you gently to soothe you.
“Like this?” you ask, eyes flicking to your feet positioned on his shoulder.
“Mmhmm,” he smirks.
You nod in response, relaxing back down onto the bed, concentrating on the feel of his fingertips. He slides them back and forth before dipping them into you, your slick letting them slide in easily. Your breaths hitch, but you keep your body from jerking away, letting him massage your walls with his two thick fingers.
He keeps a solid rhythm, letting you relax into his touch. After a minute your legs go lax against him, resting easily on his shoulder. You start to arch and rock into his touch, anticipating his pumps in, then back out. He drags his cheek down your leg, kissing, nipping, nuzzling along your calf. Your hands run up your torso, pulling your shirt up along the way letting it bunch up by your collarbone. You grab and rub your breasts, pushing them together then tugging at your nipples. Tiny moans and whimpers escape with labored breaths mixing with the strangled grunts and moans from Dean above you.
“Y/n,” he murmurs, so desperate sounding that it’s nearly a whine.
“Ohh, fuck,” you keen, “Please, Dean. Please, more. Come on.” You pull your legs down and spread them open across his thighs again. You push yourself to sit up, pulling your shirt up and over your head once you’re steady. You toss it to the floor, then reach for his shirt, helping him to pull it up, revealing his smooth, broad chest and shoulders. Your hands hook around his neck and you pull yourself onto him, straddling him and kissing him senseless. You lick down his jaw, neck, and collarbone, tasting him, savoring the feel of his thick muscles underneath you.
“Fuck,” he utters, voice husky and thick, “Fuck, babygirl, hang on, I gotta...mmmm…I can't with these jeans.”
He pushes you gently off his lap then crawls off the bed. His hands are already tugging at the button and zipper of his jeans before he’s upright. You clench up in anticipation. You bite down on a giggle when he stumbles for a second, trying to keep his eyes on you while he bends over and pulls the denim off his ankle. He’s standing straight again, bowed legs spread shoulder-wide, his cock jutting out from him. He’s thick and throbbing, and it’s better than you’d thought it would be - swollen, thick and long. Your lips part, anxious for a taste, for the feel of it on your tongue. You lean forward to crawl across the bed to him, but he stops you.
“Not right now. I, unngh, I just gotta feel you. I’m barely hanging on as it is.” He palms himself while he talks, making his abs clench.
“Get over here,” you curl your finger at him, inviting him back to you. You don’t know when he grabbed it, but he’s swiftly ripping open a condom wrapper and rolling it over himself.
He kneels down onto the bed, shuffling his way over to you. “Lie down,” he orders, and you resume your previous position, thighs parted and waiting for him to settle between them. He stops at your knees, sliding his hands up and down your legs again, prompting you to take your lip between your teeth to hold in another moan.
“You okay?” he asks softly, checking in.
“Yes, mmhmm,” you quickly answer.
He smirks at your hurried response. His palms wrap around your ankles, pulling them up and crossing them together, making your legs straighten again and placing them back on his shoulder.
“You look gorgeous like this. I promise, I’m going to make you feel so damn good, Y/n,” he says, looking down at you with hooded eyes. You murmur a quiet thanks as his arm hooks over your calves to hold your legs together against him, the other ahold of his shaft, rubbing the head over your clit and down, coating it in your wetness.
“F- fuck,” he stutters, “Okay?”
“Yes, Dean. Please,” you cry.
“Alright, yeah, okay,” he dips his hips down, lining himself up with you before pushing his hips slowly forward. For a second you tense up, unnerved by the feeling of him stretching you out. He immediately stops, waiting for you to take a deep breath and relax. You nod once you get yourself under control and keep eye contact while he pushes himself the rest of the way inside of you. Finally, you feel his stomach against the backs of your thighs, he’s fully sheathed and you clench your muscles around him, savoring the feeling of absolute fullness. You can feel his heart thumping in his chest beneath your calves.
“Ohhh..fuck,” he growls, tucking his head down and taking his lip between his teeth. He pulls back, tugging your legs up a little higher to correct the angle, then slides himself back in. You both tremble, letting out pleased hums from the feeling. Your thighs squeeze together, applying pressure around your swollen clit, and you can already feel the tension building in your core, your muscles beginning to burn from being strained.
“So tight, damn it.” Dean’s head rolls on his shoulders, his arms pulling tighter, hugging your legs to his stomach and his chest as his muscles shiver in his own anticipation.
“Dean,” whine with a tilt of your hips.
“Yeah, I know,” he says with a gentle thrust.
“Pleasekeepgoing,” you punch out in a quick breath.
From that point it's a constant string of groans, broken syllables, and gasps. At first it's steady pumping in and out, but when that's not enough he leans over you, your ankles still crossed and resting on the expanse of one shoulder. Your knees press into your ribs, but it's not uncomfortable, you're too busy relishing in the consistent pound of Dean's cock into you. His breaths pops out in quick huffs, his pubic bone pressing into your swollen clit at each pass.
His arms mount at your sides as your hands find the strong columns of muscle in his forearms and dig in. A shout escapes him, followed by a growl as he slams harder into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as your chin tilts to the ceiling. You tighten up as the ache from within your pussy becomes more; a new sharp tingle, then a twitch, then a quiver - it builds up and up and up. Your walls flutter and clamp down as the relief of your orgasm washes over you - all heat and tingling euphoria rushing through your veins. A throaty cry escapes your lungs.
Dean groans a fast, “Oh shit,” and slams hard into you, grinding and pushing as far as he can until he's throbbing and twitching his own release, a broken “oh-oh-oh” whispered with each slowing pump and aftershock.
He leans back a little, letting you open your legs and spread them on either side of him. He holds himself over you, propped on one arm the other stroking your face, thumb rubbing at your brow, swiping away the light sheen of sweat.
“Okay? You okay?” he checks with a slightly dazed smile.
You turn your head following the stroke of his palm, breathing deeply. “Mmmm, yeah. ‘M tired, though.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, me too.”
“I'm sore.”
He grunts, shifting and pulling out of you, settling at your side. “Sorry.”
You place your hands on his cheeks, looking into his sleepy emerald eyes. “Don't be. I haven’t - I mean - It’s, I feel good. Really good.” You pull him in for a kiss.
“Yeah?” he asks, a lazy, smug smile stretches across his face.
“Yeah,” you laugh. “I-I'm alive. We're alive. And I'm officially on vacation.”
The nicest bathrooms will be on the executive floor, but those are probably too nice. There's a much higher chance of being noticed if you go all the way up there just to use the bathroom. But two floors below? Those are probably just as nice, and less conspicuous.
You want to take a nice long shit, so you hunt around a little to find the bathroom with the least foot traffic. After a couple minutes, you stumble across a tiny two-stall bathroom tucked away down a hallway. It's got faux-marble countertops and a little vase of flowers, and those high-speed hand dryers that make the skin on your hands ripple. Perfect.
You settle in and pull out your phone to scroll through Twitter, which is currently dominated by tweets about Logan. You start to scroll and -
You hear the door open, and you sigh a little. All you wanted was some damn privacy. And then you hear the lock on the bathroom door - one you didn't even notice coming in - click shut.
Uh oh.
You freeze. A person starts pacing around the bathroom. A man? You can see Oxfords and dress pants under the bottom of the stall door. He doesn't go into the other stall, nor does he stop at the urinal, just keeps pacing back and forth and making bizarre noises. He's muttering to himself, you realize.
"Fucking... hulk shit. Hulk it up. Yeah." At least, that's what you think you hear. Is he... hyping himself up?
He stops pacing and stands in front of the sink without turning on the water. Just... stands there. Staring into the mirror, presumably.
You watch the numbers on your phone clock change. 8:59. 9:00. 9:01.
Just when you're considering flushing the toilet so he knows someone else is in here, his phone rings.
"Hey, yeah, thanks, man. Yeah, it's going great. Fucking fantastic. I- yeah, just had a call with the bank, which went, uh, super well. Fucking crushed it," he says, in a deeply unconvincing tone of voice. "And I'm just about to head into the all-hands senior staff, which is like 30, 40 people? But it'll be good, we're off to a strong start. Crushing this shit. Fucking... interim CEO who, right? Might as well just crown me now."
As soon as he says interim CEO you realize where you've heard the voice before - a memory comes rushing back of an episode of the Joe Rogan podcast your shitty roommate insists on listening to at full volume in the kitchen.
That's Kendall Roy.
You barely hear him make plans to meet up with the voice on the other end of the phone after the staff meeting. He hangs up the phone, makes what sounds suspiciously like gorilla noises into the mirror, and then leaves the bathroom.
As you wash your hands, a thought pops into your head. You really should head down to your desk, because you're now technically late. But.... that senior staff meeting sounds big. 30, 40 people... what are the odds anyone's going to question the presence of little old you? And when are you going to get an opportunity for this kind of tea again.
At the same time, though.... it sounds like everyone's going to be out of their offices for at least an hour. If anyone catches you in an office you shouldn't be, you can always claim to be lost. It is your first day, right?
Or. Let's be real. You are pretty tired. It sounds like no one will be around to notice if you find a corner to nap in.
Then again, if someone does catch you... is it worth the risk of being fired?
What do you do?
going to my desk - anything else is too risky
I'm gatecrashing that staff meeting
time to take a "tour" through everyone's office
I am. So Tired. So Sleepy. Looking for a place to nap
You don't actually know where the staff meeting is taking place, but it's not hard to figure it out - you spot a small pack of people walking Importantly and With Purpose, and follow them to a large conference room with glass walls where people are congregating.
You realize that you're going to stick out - you're too young and you're clothes aren't expensive enough for anyone to believe you're senior management. But... you could pass as an admin assistant (which is what you technically are anyways). You find a supply closet a few feet away and loot a yellow legal pad and some pens, before turning around and heading to the conference room.
The key to something like this is confidence. If you look like you're supposed to be here, people won't question it. You square your shoulders and walk in. There's a chair in the far corner - out of the way. Good. It'll look like you're just there to take notes. You brush by the executives clustered around the table; they barely take notice of you, to wrapped up in their notes and quiet conversations.
You settle in and take a second to look around and observe. A quiet tension lies over everyone in the room. A couple of people drum their fingers nervously on the table.
You catch some movement out of the corner of your eye - a man in the hallway, who appears to have been running, abruptly slows to a walk as he reaches the room. You watch him glance through the glass walls, reach for the door handle, and then attempt to pull open what is clearly a push door. And then try again. It's not until his third try that he seems to figure it out.
He makes his way around the room, and you can smell the nerves on him as he makes some crack about the Death Star. He glances at you and nods as he walks by, which catches you off guard. He's the only person in the room to acknowledge you so far. He takes an empty chair only a few feet away from you at the table as Kendall enters, flanked by an entourage of suits.
He looks... smaller than you expected. He's always seemed a bit larger than life; now, he seems dwarfed by everyone around him. But all eyes are on him as he enters the room and takes a seat, along with everyone in his entourage - except an even shorter and slightly rat-faced man, who declares his back to be "fucked" and wanders around the outside of the table, looking bored.
Kendall opens the meeting by welcoming the new Head of Parks, Tom Wambsgans - and you realize he's indicating the man who struggled with the door. Who is also, apparently, your boss, and also possibly the one person who noticed you were here and might remember it later. Shit.
Thankfully, Tom seems too nervous to really be noticing much. You watch him reach for a drink of water, fumble the glass, spill some on his tie, and try to discreetly wipe it off.
"Lifeboats", Kendall is saying, "We need lifeboats," and that's.... not encouraging, for a company you've just started at that's supposed to be your ticket to financial stability. But that's just your fucking luck, isn't it? This is just like when you started working for that ice cream place and the health department closed it down one week later. Or that restaurant which, in hindsight, might've actually been a mob front. You're not 100% sure.
You discreetly pull out your phone and pop open Twitter. Your Twitter following is pretty small, mostly friends and a few family members - you really just use it for venting and memes. "jfc," you type, "I think I poisoned yet another company... my first day and Kendall Roy is talking about how #waystarroyco needs to avoid the iceberg. rip 💀"
You turn your attention back to the meeting, which is - ending? Already? Shit, that was fast. You try to look Studious and Official as you flip through the yellow legal pad on which you've written "icebergs", "lifeboats", "Tom Wambsgans", - and nothing else. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Tom leave the meeting and approach Kendall. You can only hear bits and pieces of the conversation over the murmur of voices but you catch a somewhat forced self-deprecating laugh.
"Shake that tree, C3PO," you hear Kendall say as he turns to go.
"Shaking the tree!" Tom responds by laughing - but as he turns to go, his facial expression changes from lighthearted to suicidal. Jesus. It briefly occurs to you that if you were a worse person, you could probably get this man to kill himself and leave you all his money.
Your common sense suddenly slams back into you. You're on borrowed time right now - you're officially VERY late, and if Tom gets back down to the 14th floor and finds out you haven't shown up yet, that's going to look bad. He's also seen you, and it's unlikely you would've been assigned to scribe this meeting on your first day. Fuck.
He's heading for the elevator. You could try to take the stairs - you might be able to sprint faster than the elevator will make the trip, and if you can get your head down and get shuttled off to HR before he notices you, maybe he'll forget your face.
You can also hear the sounds of Kendall and his entourage drifting up the hallway. You don't think any of them paid any real attention to you - if you follow them up to the executive floor and look lost, someone might redirect you, and that'll validate any story you have about getting so lost you spent.... 90 minutes wandering around the building without ever finding Parks.
You could also just brave the elevator. Get in with Tom, introduce yourself as the new kid and say you got lost, and then try to get some flattery in before he can ask any questions about why you were in a senior staff meeting on the morning of your first day.
Or.... this is risky. Very risky. But.... Tom is new. Not to Waystar, but Kendall had said he was managing Resorts South + Central, which means hes' not familiar with the staff in this particular office. You could, theoretically, claim to have been working here for a while. Tell him you're really glad to see him getting promoted, you're excited to work with him, blah blah blah blah blah. Hell, maybe you can get a better title and a raise out of this. Of course, if you get caught, it would be... bad, probably. Quite bad. But, it worked for Pam in The Office. Well.... not this exact thing, but you figure it's the same basic principle.
What do you do?
booking it for the stairs
trailing Kendall's entourage
getting in the elevator and flattering Tom
getting in the elevator and pretending I've worked here longer than Tom has
Welcome to the Choose Your Own Succession Adventure!!
Based on the results of this poll - you're an OC who's just been hired at Waystar Royco, and will have to make choices about how to navigate your workplace and your fellow employees. How will you make those choices? Through polls!
Every day a snippet of story will be posted, ending with a 24-hour poll. The results of that poll dictate where the story goes next. Some polls will seem like Big Important decisions, and others might seem like irrelevant detail - but every choice matters in the end.
Polls will be linked here, under the cut, so you can backread anything you missed. Make good choices! Or don't ;)
