One Thousand Cheers {Dean Winchester x Female!Reader}
Wordcount: 2669 Requested by: @ab1nsur Summary: While hunting demons on the beach, you get caught up in a rather revealing contest. Warnings: Swearing, Spring Break chaos, A touch of non-consensual touching, demon mischief.
Demons on a beach during Spring Break. This felt like some sort of teen romance novel, and you could see the cover now - some red painted muscular guy holding some lusty teenager, the sunset behind them. Course, demons never actually looked like that. The ones you were looking for blended in well enough, looking like bikini-clad twenty-year olds who were looking for a hookup, rather than for souls. “Ever feel like you’re too old for this crap?” You asked Dean, standing up on a bench to try to look over the crowds for your demons, or for anyone who looked like they were being lured away. “Spring Break - what I wouldn’t give for a week off to feel like a stupid kid again.”
“This is your idea of a fun Spring Break?” Dean said, his eyes too busy scoping out the beach, and making sure that his Revolver was tucked away inside of his jacket. He’s the one that stood out for wearing one, in this almost 90-degree weather. The sun going down didn’t cool anything any. “My break was another hunt, and I’d be lucky if it wasn’t somewhere that was raining all the time.”
“I think that’s why you are the way you are. You didn’t get to party enough,” You chuckled. “Didn’t get to raise a little hell like these idiots.”
“Yeah, that’s my problem alright. Didn’t party enough,” Dean grunted. Then his eyes seemed to catch on something, much like how a cat will suddenly spot a squirrel and look ready to pounce. “To the left.”
“I see one to the right,” You whispered back. “Split up?”
“Going to have to,” Dean said. “We’ll meet back up over there.”
He motioned his head to one of the larger stages that seemed like it was preparing for a Wet T-Shirt Contest. You rolled your eyes at him. Of course, that’s where he would want to end up. “Alright, but only because it’s a good central location. Not because I wanna watch you get an eyeful.”
Before he could come up with a witty retort, you were off the bench and walking among the people. In your jeans and white t-shirt, you didn’t exactly fit in with them either, but at least you weren’t wearing a heavy jacket. Your own weapon, your knife, was tucked into a holster attached to your leg, and your fingers brushed against the hilt with every step that you took towards the woman who had flashed her black eyes at you. It was tough to maneuver through the crowd, tall men often standing in the way of your line of your vision, a couple of them playfully trying to touch you. You slapped their hands away and carried on, too focused on the mission to give them a piece of your mind. Otherwise, you would have picked them apart and left them absolutely decimated with only your words.
There she was. A fucking stunner. The vessel must have been a supermodel or something because this demon was getting a lot of attention, exactly like it wanted. It had it’s pick of tall, muscular, college-age men who didn’t actually think much about their future and would make a deal for something as stupid as money. Bargain away their soul for a couple of fun weekends in Cancun or something similar.
Going up and incapacitating it wasn’t an option, not with so many witnesses. There was no way you were going to be able to form a salt circle around it with all of these people around, it would get trodden on, if it didn’t immediately mix with the sand. But you couldn’t let it just take these men away either. If you could save their souls, best bet you were going to try.
“Hey, you,” You called out, jogging a little closer, running the back of your hand against your forehead where sweat was starting to gather and drip into your eyes. All the attention turned to you in that moment, and the demon knew that it had the advantage here. Its smirk made you want to rage. You had to use some quick thinking to get these men away.
“Can I help you?” It said, in a sickly-sweet voice. The fucking confidence in these demons - must be a younger one.
“You’re the bitch who gave my brother herpes, aren’t you?” You said, your mind flashing to Gabriel of all people, and the trick that he had pulled on Sam, making him pretend he was in a commercial for Herpexia. “Yeah, I remember you. Now I know my brother is too chickenshit to say anything, but I will.” You put your hands around your mouth to mime a loudspeaker of some kind, getting more people to look. “THIS CHICK HAS HERPES. DON’T SHARE A DRINK WITH HER OR SLEEP WITH HER. SHE WON’T EVEN CALL YOU AFTER ANYWAY!”
The demon growled, a touch of its true nature showing, the eyes darkening as the guys around her started to subtly walk away, deciding that it just was not worth it. So at least one part of your idea was coming to fruition.
“You play dirty,” she said, her head tilting menacingly towards you. The eyes were so focused on yours. You stepped in a little closer, your hand closing around the hilt of your weapon as a little room was made by the absence of her suitors.
“Yeah, I was inspired by a tricky angel, what can I say?” You said, your own gaze glaring. “What happened to just hanging around crossroads, huh? Surely that has more dignity than picking up these scraps.”
“Dignity? Now - you’re one to talk,” The demon said, the smirk growing on her painted red lips, which perfectly matched the bikini that she was wearing. Her hands were on her hips. She knew there were still too many people for me to do anything drastic, like go charging. “Always hanging around the Winchesters. Clinging onto Dean.”
“I don’t cling,” You scoffed. “I said, actually. It’s something that friends do. Which you wouldn’t know, because demons don’t really have friends, do they? You’re not the most likeable sort.”
“Friends?” The demon said, chuckling, which got on your nerves. “Come on, y/n. Even from down below we can see how bad you have it for Dream-Boy Dean. Which is why you cling.”
“I think this part, right here, this is why you guys have a bad rep. The deals, the hellhounds, the annoying possessions, they’re all bad, but this right here? This is why you’re never going to have friends,” You glared, feeling yourself getting riled up. Which of course is what they wanted.
“We take bets down there, on how hurt you’re going to be when he turns you down,” The demon-woman giggled. “I bet a hundred souls that you’re going to call on one of us. Make a little deal so that he’ll love you the same way that you love him.”
"This isn’t going to stop me from killing you, you know. Actually, it’s making me want to do it more. And then you can go back down to hell and pass on the message that all of you are going to lose your money, nobody wins. You’re all just - so damn wrong.”
Your stomach was churning inside of you. The anger was making you start to become careless, but it wasn’t just the words that she was saying which were pissing you off. It was the fact that she had a goddamn point. OF COURSE you clung onto Dean Winchester. Has anyone seen him? He’s one of the most handsome men in the world, women and some men everywhere fell for him. And you had the pleasure of getting to know him, which made your admiration worse. He was a badass, he was confident, he was funny, he had this bad boy look down pat. But of one thing you were absolutely sure. You would never, ever be stupid enough to make a deal with a demon. Not for love, not for power, not for anything. If you ended up ever confessing your feelings to Dean, and he didn’t feel the same - that was that. You already prepared yourself for it.
“So do it,” The demon-woman said. “Kill me. But you know I’ll be back. That’s the thing that you really should hate about us demons. We always come back.”
“Yeah, it’s really annoying,” You had to admit. Your hand fastened around the hilt of your knife. “And it makes prison sound pretty damn worth it.”
She backed up, turned around and started to run, weaving through bodies. It appeared to be more of a dance than anything else, with her bare feet against the sand. You found it a little harder, running in your sneakers. The constant dipping into other people’s deeper footprints made your thighs burn as you kept moving. You wanted to have your knife in your hands but considering how many people were around, how there could be accidents, it wasn’t the smart thing to do. So, you were stuck just following, hoping to tackle. No, praying to all the angels that you knew that she would get hit with one of those giant beachballs that people were throwing around, so you could drag her out of there easier.
Dodge and weave. The people were growing closer and closer together. You were having to use your elbows. With the congestion, you felt like you were a piece of floss, struggling to get between teeth. You kept getting sprayed with something, water probably. No, ugh, it smelt like beer. Someone was actually shaking up their beer and then pouring out the foam over people.
You wrinkled your nose, wiping it away from your eyes before it could get into them, and then looked around again. You had totally lost her. There were other girls around in red bikinis but none of them had her face. You pushed more and more - until you found yourself being against a stage. Two arms came down and grabbed onto yours, pulling you up, confusing you further.
“And we have our last volunteer for the wet t-shirt contest!” An emcee said, different colored spotlights dancing around your body. “What’s your name, jeans?”
There were cheers coming from the crowd that you had just elbowed your way through. Your mouth went dry as you realized that everyone was now looking at you. You turned your eyes to the DJ booth where a man that looked like he was out of an LMFAO music video was standing, mic pointed out towards you.
“Y/N,” you said, loudly.
“Y/N! Come and stand with the other contestants, you all know how this goes don’t you?”
While he explained the rules of this stupid contest that you now couldn’t get out of, since everyone was looking over at you, you looked through the crowd. Your eyes first landed on the demon, who was smirking at you from amongst the crowd. Her ruby red lipstick made her look all the smugger and you shook your head at her, mentally threatening to make her exorcism as painful as possible. The next pair of eyes that you caught were green, and boy, were they wide.
Dean Winchester could be a bit of a gambling man, often with his life, but he would have never bet that he would see you be a part of a wet t-shirt contest.
One by one, the girls in your lineup had buckets of water poured over them. Your heart was pounding when your turn was coming up. You weren’t dressed like these other girls. You didn’t have on a skimpy bikini top. Hell, it looked like the girl two down from you wasn’t wearing a bra at all. She looked like Jennifer Aniston in Friends. You looked down to make sure that you were wearing one, and yes, thank Chuck you were, and it wasn’t one of your bad laundry-day bras either.
A gasp came out of you as a bucket full of COLD water was poured over your head. It was freezing absolutely freezing, and made you feel chilled down to the bone. But it had the effect that they wanted. Your white t-shirt was now drenched, and clinging onto your body, the way that the demon claimed you clung onto Dean. The cold had the effect on your body of making your nipples harden and start to point out of the thin fabric of your bra. The crowd in front of you went wild, a hundred, a thousand cheers coming out from them as they clapped for your body.
You warmed up pretty quick from how flustered you were feeling. Your eyes were still stuck on Dean’s as his trailed down your body, taking in the sight of you. It wasn’t the most exposed that you had been, since he had given you a hand with stitches on your abdomen before, but it was all about context. This wasn’t seeing you because he was helping. This was him seeing you because you somehow got put into a contest meant to give straight men and lesbians material for their spankbank.
And even though you hadn’t wanted to enter - you got in second.
And a bonus of a 100-dollar cash prize.
That part wasn’t so bad.
You took it without any pomp, just accepted the bill out of the emcee’s hand and hopped off the back of the stage with the intention of circling back around and trying to avoid the mass of people. Music was playing louder now that the contest was over. Free drink tickets were being thrown out from the stage. People were being pulled up to dance. It was basically a stampede over there, and you had to finally resign yourself to the fact that if the demon was in there, she was out of your reach.
You saw Dean exiting the crowd out of the corner of your eye and walked in his direction, pulling the shirt away from your skin, though once you let go, it immediately clung right back with a sick squelching sound. You crossed your arms in front of yourself instead, protecting what little modesty that you had left.
“Not a word, Winchester,” You warned him. He put his hands up innocently, though you knew that he had something on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say.
You watched him as he took his heavy jacket off and he put it around your shoulders. You weren’t cold any longer, but you did take the opportunity to cover up, muttering a thank you as you crossed your arms in front of yourself to hide your wet t-shirt from view. “Can’t complain about a hundred bucks though,” he said, with a corny smile.
“I can complain that the demon bitch got away. I swear, she did that on purpose. Lead me to the stage so that I would get picked. Crowley is probably down there, laughing his ass off, knowing that his demon did this.”
“We’ll find them,” Dean said, resolutely. “- after you buy me an overpriced beer. You can afford it.”
You nudged him with the new weight of the jacket, making him chuckle. It was a welcome sound, after being humiliated and disappointed. “Fine, fine. One beer - but we’re looking for these hellspawns while we drink, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, gruffly. “We’ll squish these cockroaches.”
You nodded and he put his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards one of the makeshift bars on the beach, selling beer at three times the price of what they should be. Your heart was beating quickly again inside of your chest as you were pulled in close to him, the smell of his leather surrounding you. Your words flickered back to what the demoness had said - you clung to him. But right now, it almost looked like ...
He was clinging to you.
