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The Mean Marquis

Lafayette x Reader

Note: So @a-schuylerr made a post about different Lafayette fic scenarios they would like to see and I got inspired. Thank you to @thatoneimaginesblog for being my proofreader and for putting up with me spamming you with my process on this fic. This is my longest fic and I am really excited for you to read it!

Warning: smut and that’s basically it

Word Count: 7,204 ( I expected it to be long just not this long)

Tagged: @hamiltonsquills @mehrmonga @iamgrayfox @rottwat @beckett-faye @justanotherone2u @aph-bermuda @haletotheking24


When your father first announced that you were to marry a French nobleman in just over a month, you felt as if your throat had fallen into your stomach. You were angry and shocked, so angry that you could hardly form a sentence before you stormed off.

That was three days ago, your anger had subsided and left you feeling worried. Worried about the man you were going to be married to. He wasn’t just any old French nobleman he was the Marquis de Lafayette, more affectionately known as the “Mean Marquis”. You’d heard stories about him about his ruthless and cold nature when it came to business. You had also heard about how popular he was with women, and that he was always surrounded by them.

“It’s just not fair!” you yell. You’d walked far enough away from you family’s home that you know you can speak without being heard. “I don’t even know him why should I marry him?” you groan as you sink to your knees.

You take a deep breath as you feel yourself start to panic. How on earth is he going to treat me? You wonder. After everything you’ve heard about him, the best you can hope for is that he will ignore you. He will probably give you a child or two but for the most part, just forget you even exist.

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Darkest Desire 'Consequences’

Don’t forget to read previous chapters!

[Darkest Desire Masterlist]

Chapter 12

Summary: Finally it is revealed why Nick hates you so much. 

Word Count: 3,204

HUGE THANK YOU @i-am-negan-trash for being my beta reader!

Rick stood before the group in the Alexandria church, speaking about the deal Maggie had made with Gregory, the leader of a community called the Hilltop.

“Now, these Saviors. They almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham on the road. Now sooner or later, they would have found us. Just like those wolves did. Just like Jesus did. They would have killed someone or some of us. And then they would try to own us. And we would try to stop them. But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose. This is the only way to be sure. As sure as we can get that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, it’s how we keep this place. It’s how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here’s your chance to say your peace.”

The room was silent for just a moment until you heard someone stand up in the back. Almost everyone turned to see it was Morgan.

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Faking it (Grayson) Part 3/?

Summary: Your bestfriend Grayson is attending a relative’s wedding and he needs you to act as his girlfriend. Cue lots of pining from both your sides, smug looks from Ethan and their family pressuring you into marriage and babies.
Word Count: 2,204
Warnings: None.
A/N: I’m so happy you guys like this so much. The feedback has been amazing. Also, I’m almost at 300 followers!!! Thank you so much. Enjoy part 3!! xx

Faking It Masterlist.

You took a quick shower and dried yourself in the bathroom, changing into the clothes you had taken with you. Once you had dried your hair so it wasn’t dripping you decided to join the others downstairs, hoping that they weren’t waiting for you to finish before they ate. But one glance into the open doorway of the kitchen told you that the dinner was still in the making, Lisa and four other adults bustling around, talking over each other, resulting in them almost shouting to be heard over the other’s voice. You smiled in amusement before turning to walk into the living room.

The living area was breathtaking. Like everything in the cabin, it was out of wooden walls and floors, but it was styled in a very cozy and western feel. There were two red sofas and one mustard colored armchair all pointed toward the largest fireplace you had ever seen, made out of grey stone, and of course a large sofa table in the middle. It seemed like this whole cabin was made out of windows, because at the far left of the living area, there was a whole wall made out of glass, giving off that gorgeous view of the backyard and lake, the one you had in the room you were staying at.

Grayson and Ethan were both preoccupied with talking to their small cousins, three sitting by Ethan and one in Gray’s lap. You smiled at the sight, feeling something twist in the pit of your stomach. It was just too adorable. Gray looked up at, catching your eye. He smiled easily and bounced the little girl in his lap, who couldn’t be more than five or six years old.

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Not The Only Monster

Summary : Sometimes the truth doesn’t set you free

Warnings : Angst. Talk of murder.

Word Count : 1,204 words.

A/N : Now THIS ONE I’m a bit anxious to share. I knew someone who did this (not literally) and at that time I didn’t think much of it because it’s her decision, and quite frankly I’m neutral about this whole ordeal. I don’t want people to be saying shit to me because of what I think so please… just don’t.
If you’re uncomfortable with the issue of babies and abortion please DO NOT read this. I have an alternate ending for this story (that I still have not finished) so if you think the ending is unsatisfying, or it could’ve gone better don’t be afraid to tell me what you think; I value and encourage criticisms of my writings.
Again, take note that English is not my first language so any errors that you want to point out, just go ahead and shoot me a message or ask (:

There was heaviness in the air between you and Bucky. The both of you had stayed silent, your eyes avoiding his hard gaze as you studied the floor. Your heart was hammering against your chest, the beat banging loudly in your ear.

The conversation the two of you had was still fresh in your head, your last words replaying at the back of your mind.

“You’re not the only monster in the team, Barnes” you chuckled lowly as you recalled the one horrible, sinister act you executed. Your eyes may still be looking at him, but your focus was elsewhere. Even though you were here, in your room at the compound surrounded by your team mates, the danger lurking put off at bay, you could never escape your unforgiving past –because behind these four walls you were left to contemplate on your sins.

“What are you talking about?” he asked as he noticed the way your eyes were void of any emotions. He recognized that look anywhere; you were somewhere else, revisiting a memory and letting the weight take over your being. Bucky placed his hand on your shoulder, and his touch had brought you out of your walk down memory lane.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if asking a terrified child where their mother was when they got lost.

You began focusing on him, noticing his worried expression. His furrowed eyebrows, the blue in his eyes filled with concern at your sudden change in attitude. He had never seen the walls you carefully built crumble to dust, and it pained him to know that you too had a fair share of a tragic fate. He saw the internal battle you were waging in that very moment. He knew the torn feeling of wanting to divulge a predicament, but also not wanting to be judged by it.

“I killed someone” you finally managed to murmur and your eyes began to water.

At first, Bucky couldn’t understand what you meant –of course you had killed someone. The whole team had killed someone at one point in their lives in order to make the world a better place, ridding of any evil. Then it dawned on him; you weren’t talking about killing the wrong people, you were talking about committing a murder on an innocent life. Suddenly he felt a searing pain where his hand touched your shoulders, and he quickly returned his arm to his side as you looked down the floor.

‘I killed someone’

He wanted to know who, to know why you decided to do so. And you wanted to reveal to him, to finally let someone know about the one thing you were mortified of. But how could you formulate a sentence that would release that burden off of you while simultaneously make him understand why you had done it in the first place? For once you let your emotions get the best of you, and let yourself cry –finally allowing guilt to wash over you.

Bucky heard you sobbing on the edge of your bed, and never had he encountered such a pitiful sight before him. You were letting someone in, allowing them into the deepest and darkest part of your soul. On the outside you were strong, confidence practically running in your veins as you sauntered around the compound with your head held high, but this? This was everything but that person.

You were fragile, and any wrong movement or words he spilled will undoubtedly scare you away.

“You can trust me” he spoke gently, making you cry harder. Inside you were scared, so scared of what he’ll think of you when you reveal to him your most personal issue. Will he ever look at you the same again? Will he tell the others? Will he abandon you too? Mustering all the courage you had left, all the energy that was still in you, you returned to meet him.

“In the Institution” you began, swallowing the lump in your throat before continuing “where I was raised, where I was trained, I was partnered with a guy”. You closed your eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. The secret was at the tip of your tongue, and the courage that you mustered was beginning to waver. “I hated him. He was vile and cruel” you explained, your body now shaking but from what you couldn’t identify.

“He did things to me, things I will never forget” you told him, hoping he knew the ugly truth underneath it. You tore your eyes open when the face of the man you detested came flashing by, his evil smirk plastered on his lips.

“it’s a boy” a doctor announced, holding a baby in their arms. He was crying softly with his tiny hands flailing around, begging to be touched by the warm hands of his mother.
“Get it away from me” you screamed, looking at it with disgust. Your partner then came charging in, wrapping his large hands over his son protectively. He looked down at you and said “Don’t worry, my doll. You will learn to love him”, before taking the baby away and leaving you behind.

“I…” you croaked, now unsure on your decision to tell him. Nobody knew of this, not even Natasha. You had kept this side of you hidden deeply inside of you in a vain attempt to forget it. But how could one forget?

“He was just three” you finally confessed, bringing your hands to cover your face, the shame burning your whole existence.

Shocked, horrified, revolted –those were the emotions that whirled inside Bucky when you finally let it out. He was speechless, and your cries the only sound that echoed in your room. He thought HYDRA was cold-blooded, but nothing could be as merciless as to what you had done. He wanted to scream at you and to get away, far away from you as possible because he never thought you would do such a terrible thing. He recoiled, taking a few steps backwards as if the space between you and him was flames.

You heard him retreat, and you knew he was disgusted by you. Who wouldn’t be? You were a monster they let in, disguised in the form of a woman who had skills that were beneficial to their operation.

You cried harder, feeling the consequence of being honest bite you. There was nothing but silence from Bucky’s end and your muffled weeps for a time, and maybe that was what provoked a few hurried knocks at the door. Damn these paper thin walls.

You didn’t even hear the door being torn open as Steve barged in, his worried voice booming from the silence that had plagued you and Bucky. Not wanting to let your secret be told freely while you were here, you ripped your hands from your face, revealing to them your drenched cheeks and reddening eyes, before standing up and running past them.

One of them knew, and that’s all it takes for private information to be turned into public knowledge. You didn’t want to witness these people that you had learned to care, to value, and see them turn against you.

So you did what was rational, and left.

Tagging: @imaginingbucky and @avengersnthings + @bexboo616 (Tell me if you want me to stop tagging you / to tag you).

Super Mom

A/N: Part 2 in the mini series The Adventures of Protective Dad Bucky. I hope you like it, it would be much appreciated to get your opinions on it. Tell me if you liked it. Part [1][3][4][5]

Prompt: Prompt: Your baby is sick and Bucky wants her to take the medicine but she is refusing, much to your amusement.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,204

дорогая- Love

Ангел мой- My Angel

Мой милый ангел- My little angel

“C'mon дорогая, just open your mouth.” Bucky’s pleading voice filled your ears. You rounded the corner to see him leaning above your daughter holding a spoon full of white liquid. Your daughter, who was laying on the couch, made a face at the liquid and shook her head defiantly.

“No.” Bucky sighed giving her a pout, you could see it was slightly working as your kid slowly loosened her grip on her stuffed bunny. But as soon as he inched the spoon closer to her mouth she was right back to the start shaking her head with a bigger pout on her lips.

“Baby we need you to drink this to get better,” he whispered softly. He had been trying for the past thirty minutes for her to take the medicine. He understood her dislike to it because he once tried it to convince her that it tasted good. That ended horribly when he began coughing and making faces. The medicine tasted absolutely retched.

“No,” this time your baby girl turned her whole body away from her Dad digging her head into the couch cushion.

He heaved a heavy sigh and stood up going to the kitchen where you were. He rinsed the spoon before setting it on the counter. “She’s so stubborn,” he chuckled lightly and you gave him a small smile leaning over and kissing his cheek. “I think she get’s it from you,” he teased causing you to hit his chest playfully.

“As if, Mr.Wont-Take-No-For-An-Answer Barnes.” He laughed rolling his eyes at you and kissed your cheek.

“I just worry,” and to prove his point your baby girl started having a coughing fit causing both of you to flinch.

“Ok Mama Bear Bucky I understand,” you teased lightly causing him to roll his eyes once more. “So go make our baby happy,” He smiled softly kissing your lips softly before making his way to his little angel.

“With pleasure.”

“You want to watch Little Mermaid?” Steve’s voice rang through the living room drifting into the kitchen where you and Bucky stood. You didn’t hear your daughter’s reply but Steve’s you did, “Anything for you Doll.” You looked over at Bucky to see him pouting arms crossed over his chest. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face as you watched your husband.

He was pouting for good reason. He had been trying for the past two hours to get his little girl to take the horrible medicine with no luck. So you being the super mom that you are, called the god father of your baby girl. Steve was there no under twenty minutes and in within five minutes he was able to get her to take the medicine and was now watching Disney movies with your little princess.

“It’s not that bad,” a giggled escaped your lips at the look your husband gave you.

“He’s here less than five minutes and she took the medicine! What did he do that I didn’t?!” He exclaimed shaking his hands up front of you for emphasis.
You snorted and he pouted. “Honey, you couldn’t even get Steve to take his medicine when he was young and sick.” Bucky’s eyes widen and he parted his mouth in shock.

“How do you know that?” If he frowned anymore he would get wrinkles.

“Steve,” you smirked as Bucky scowled at Steve from a distance.

“That Punk Rogers.” You laughed walking to Bucky and pressed your lips to his for a sweet kiss. When you pulled back your arms continued to be wrapped around his neck while his hands rested on your hips.

“Do you feel better?” You flashed him a sly grin that he matched.

“If I’m being honest, no.” You smacked him in the chest hard. “Ow! It’s just cause I couldn’t protective Ангел мой from getting sick.” That was a better answer.

“You can’t protect her from everything,” you said while carding your fingers through his hair. His grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you closer against his body.

“Yes I can.” You smiled softly at his determined face.

“I knew you would get sick,” you snickered at the bed-ridden Bucky. His nose was red like his cheeks, his eyes half lidded. He let out a cough before he could answer you.

“I thought I couldn’t get sick,” he whined as you sat next to his side running your hands through his hair softly.

“Well when you love someone who’s sick its kind of impossible to not catch it.” You laughed softly.

“Well then why didn’t you get sick?” He frowned as his warm hand rested on your thigh.

“Because I’m super mom.” Before he could say anything you both heard the door creak open.

“Daddy?” Your daughter softly whispered from the doorway. You both flashed her a smile.

“Hey baby girl,” he whispered back giving her a soft smile. She looked a bit timid, but one nod from you was enough for her to launch herself to her dad. Bucky caught her swiftly and hugged her close.

“I’m sorry I got you sick,” she whimpered.

Bucky hugged her tighter, “oh baby its ok. You wanna know why?” Her eyes widen and she nodded her head quickly. “Because Мой милый ангел this means I get to stay home and hang out with my two favorite girls instead of working.” You watched as your daughter giggled and snuggled her head into the crook of her neck. The sweet moment didn’t last long though.

“Ew!” Your daughter whipped her head away from his neck, causing him to frown. “Your sticky!” You burst into a laughing fit holding your stomach as Bucky turned his frown to you.

“It’s just sweat,” he said but your daughter wasn’t having it.

“I’m going to hang with Aunty Nat till you get better,” and with that your daughter left as you continued to laugh. This time it was cause of the incredulous look Buck had on his face.

“You daughter is rude,” he looked at you in shock.

“She gets that from you.” He rolled his eyes but smiled nevertheless. “Wait why do you always call her my daughter when you don’t like something she does?”

“Hey where are you going?” Bucky held your wrist which prevented you from standing up fully.

“Living room, maybe binge watch some Netflix, why?” You looked at him curiously as he gave his best attempt at a sad face.

“Cause,” he started and tugged you closer a wicked smile appearing on his face then, “I was thinking we could play nurse.” You snorted smiling at him while shaking your head.

“You literally have snot running down your nose,” you teased but his smile never faltered.

“I thought you were Super Mom,” he taunted at you while snaking his other hand slowly up your shirt. Before you could reply you let out a shriek because with lightning fast speed his hands wrapped around your waist and flipped you over. His body pinning you beneath him against the bed. He gave you a dramatic evil laugh, “I got you now!” And began leaning in.

“Omg Bucky no! Bucky!” You screamed laughing.

It was safe to say you were sick a week later.


TITLE: Winter

PAIRING: Matt Murdock x You/OC

REQUEST/PROMPT: “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

WORD COUNT: 1,204 (yeah it became a lot longer than i thought it would)

ADDITIONAL NOTES: This story goes from fluffy, to slight-angst, to fluff all over again. A short backstory for this one shot: You’re the paralegal at Nelson and Murdock. You’d needed a job and went to law school, but weren’t a real lawyer. Karen - who’s engaged to Foggy - asked him and Matt if they could possibly hire her. During the interview, You and Matt had an immediate connection. You’ve been working there for about four months, and have been in a relationship with Matt for two.

ALSO: I really hate writing in that “you” style of writing, but I know that some people benefit reading it because it makes them feel more engrossed, so I will. However, that “your name” and “your hair color” ballocks isn’t happening. Unless you give me your name in your request, I’ll just automatically use the name Charlie for the “you” persona. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

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[Word Count: 2,204]

Prompt: Can you write a Sam or Dean x reader, where the reader is super tomboyish & normally wears guys punk clothes and stuff like that but for a case she has to dress up and its like a cliche transformation and the boys are surprised and it ends in kisses?

i frickin love cliches like this omgggg also it says the word cock omg oops but c’mon guys it’s dean of course he’s gonna be turned on omg

this is the dress im describing bc holy fuuuck im in love with it omg someone buy it for me please??

Dean x Reader


You had never been a ‘girly girl’, even before you had been a hunter. No, for you, it had always been grass-stained jeans and plaid shirts, black over pink any day, your trusty combat boots rather than a pair of heels that you just know you’ll will break your ankles in.

When you had first met the Winchesters, they chalked your boyish style up to you being a hunter, but as they got to know you, they found that at times you were more of a guy than they were. Not that they minded of course. In fact, it was endearing, and it was just one of the many reasons why Dean had fallen for you.

The two of you had been together for just over six months now, and during that time, you had become inseparable; you made a great asset to their team, and found that the three of you could finish cases much quicker now that there were more of you. Not only that, but it was a major help that you were of the ‘opposite gender’.

Being the girl of the team meant that you often had to ‘take one for the team’. In other words, you were bait 90% of the time. Not that you really minded - after all, you’re still helping out on the hunt, and you know how to defend yourself so it’s not that big a deal. 

What is a big deal, however, is when you have to dress the part.

“Are you fucking serious, Dean? I’m not wearing a dress!”

“Baby, I told you before, we’re not gonna be able to lure out this damn rogue vamp if you’re dressed like a trucker! Hell, the bar that we’re going to won’t even let you in looking like that, if me and Sam have to abide by the black tie dress code, then so do you!”

You snort, throwing your arms over your chest with a huff as you glare up at him. “I’m not dressed like a trucker. You are.”

Dean stares down at you, brow slowly furrowing before he mutters, “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Shut up, neither do your comebacks.” You grit out, gaze dropping from his face down to the shopping bag that was held in one of his hands. Letting out a deep sigh, you reach out and snatch the bag from his hand, glowering at it like it had personally offended you (to be honest, it kind of had). “”Get out then so I can get ready.”

He pouts down at you, letting go of the bag for you to drop onto the bed. “Aw, can’t I just stay and watch?” 

Your fierce glare quickly has him stumbling for the door, his hands raised in surrender as he leaves you alone. You make sure to wait a minute, just to be sure that he’s actually gone, before locking the door to get ready. 

Peering into the bag, another dramatic groan leaves you as you take stock of what Dean had bought for you. Reaching in, you pull out the first item - a dress. 

It was quite possibly the most extravagant thing you had ever seen, let alone owned. It was a strapless floor-length dress with a sweetheart neckline and a mermaid train, made from velvet in a deep burgundy that was an all too similar shade to blood. 

You stare at it for a moment, completely transfixed before you realize that you’ve been subconsciously stroking it. Dropping it onto the bed, you grab the next thing - a pair of heels. 

It’s inevitable - you groan. 

Naturally, Dean had chosen a pair of six-inch heels. They were simple black heels, with pointed toes and a stiletto heel, and you were already wincing at the thought of having to walk in them (oh, God, what if I have to run in them …) Inside the bag, you find a matching black clutch purse in the same material as the heels, just big enough to fit your phone, your Colt 1911 New Agent, and maybe that lipstick that you can see in the shopping bag …

Reaching in, you find a small bag filled with makeup - all of the basics and then some (because naturally, why would you own makeup?). You take the time to stare at everything for a moment before you get to work.


Two hours later and you’re just about ready to scream. 

You had showered, taking the time to wash and condition your hair (conditioner was something you rarely used, so you had to borrow some from Sam), as well as shaving and applying a face mask. You had also groomed your eyebrows, something that brought tears to your eyes (how was it that you could take a stab wound without so much as breaking a sweat, yet when it came to plucking a hair it felt like you were about to pass out from pain?), and painted your nails a deep blood red to match the dress.

After the grooming stage came the makeup. You figured that you were bound to get makeup on the dress (something which you wanted to avoid; as much as you hated dresses, you just knew that if you ruined this one, you would probably cry), and so after putting on your underwear - all the while cursing your strapless bra - you got to work on applying it.

You were endlessly confused as to what should be applied first, but eventually got through it. You didn’t know what to make of the sensation of applying foundation, and just looking at the eyeliner made you queasy (how the hell am I supposed to make it look decent?! Eyeliner is an art-form that takes years to perfect!). You had a run in with the mascara wand, nearly poking your own eye out, and you found that lining your lips required more concentration than necessary.

Finding a diamante hair comb in the shopping bag, you figured that it was necessary to style your hair, and took the time to put it up in a half french twist, sliding the comb into the twist for decoration and leaving the rest of your hair loose to frame your face and cascade down your back.

Finally came the dress.

It was the perfect fit - you would have to question Dean about that later -, hugging at your hips and curves, and the fabric felt amazing against your skin. By some sheer miracle, you managed to zip it up yourself, and with a quick prayer to no one in particular, you slipped into the heels without falling over. Grabbing the clutch, which you had filled before you had showered, you check yourself in the mirror before you unlock the door to find Dean.

Your heels click down the hall, the sound echoing. Your steps are confident, which is surprising considering the fact that you feel like you’re about to fall down and face-plant at any given moment, but either way, you swallow the fear and keep your head held high. Finally, after what feels like a mile, you stop at the door of the library. Peeking in through the gap, you see Sam and Dean, both dressed in sharp black suits, white shirts and black bow ties; Sam is slouched in a chair, relaxed, meanwhile Dean is pacing back and forth, the fabric of his suit jacket taut.

Swallowing at the sight, you take a deep breath before stepping up the stairs and pushing the door open fully to walk in. 

Sam glances up, and Dean immediately freezes, mouth opening to say ‘finally!’, only for the word to die on his lips as he takes in the sight before him. ‘Stunning’ is an understatement. As Dean stares at you, pupils dilated and jaw slack, he struggles to come up with a word to describe you, anything to say to let you know just how beautiful, gorgeous, irresistible you look, however, nothing comes.

You’re stood in the doorway, arms by your sides, though your arms soon raise up to cross over your chest, self-conscious of how the eyes of both the Winchesters are pinned to you. 

Dean’s eyes drop from your face, where he had been captivated by the dark red lips that he was envisioning wrapping around his throbbing hard cock, to your chest, where your breasts were emphasized by the fold of your arms. Dean was instantly jealous of the figure-hugging fabric, desperate to rip it from your body and replace it with the contact of his own bare skin. 

“-ean? Dean, damn it, snap out of it, you perv!”

He blinks, jolting as he realizes that you were shouting at him. “What?” He asks dumbly, voice several octaves higher, and he clears his throat, cheeks flaming before he tries again. “What is it, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, hip cocking out to the side as you raise an eyebrow at him. “I said, when are we leaving?”

“Oh, uh, now.” He clears his throat, nodding, “Now.”

“Okay then, what are you waiting for?” You gesture for the door, and it’s then that Dean sees Sam, already waiting next to you, eyes still wide and glued to your frame. 

Dean’s eyes narrow, a glare darkening his features as jealousy floods his veins. “Keep your eyes off my girl, Sam.”

Sam glances up at Dean, and, seeing the threat in his eyes, he backs off with hands raised. “Whoa, calm down, Dean, Y/N’s like a sister to me. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Why’re you surprised, huh? My girl’s beautiful with or without makeup and fancy clothes, there ain’t no reason to be lookin’ at her differently.” He grits out, standing next to you and reaching out to wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you slightly to lean against him.

Rolling your eyes, you slap lightly at his chest with the back of your hand before pulling away. “Then there’s no reason for you to be acting like an over-protective dog.” 

Dean pouts at you, the dominant flare leaving him as he stares at you with innocent eyes. You take a second to realize that with the heels on, you’re much closer to Dean’s eye level, and smirk victoriously. Suddenly, Dean’s eyes widen, and he holds up a finger before rifling through his inner jacket pocket.

“One second.” He mutters, before pulling out a small box. 

You’re completely baffled, and for one fleeting second, your stomach drops at the thought that inside that box could be a ring. Sam seems to share that thought with you, because he catches your eyes, shock flashing across his face before fading into understanding. 

Looking back to Dean, you see that it’s not a ring (you’re relieved to see that he’s not about to propose to you; you’d much rather that he propose to you at the end of a hunt, where you’d been tremendously badass and slaughtered a whole nest of vamps or something equally dramatic), but instead is a necklace and matching set of earrings.

The necklace is a simple silver chain with a single diamond pendent, and the earrings are silver drops with matching diamond pendents. Dean avoids eye contact as he takes the necklace from the box, closing it and placing it in your slack hand as he stands behind you to put it on.

“I know it’s nothing fancy,” He murmurs, sweeping your hair over your shoulder as he lifts the chain to do the clasp. “And I know you don’t wear jewelry, but I wanted to get you something, well, something nice, I guess …”

He trails off, hands settling on your shoulders for a moment before restyling your hair so that it trailed down your back again. He comes around to stand in front of you, his hand resting on your waist as he studies your expression, one of complete and utter shock. 

“Dean, I, I … Thank you.” You settle with, leaning forward to kiss him, unable to convey your gratitude in any other way. Pulling away, you smile at him before tilting your head in the direction of the door. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” He agrees, lifting his arm for you to interlink yours with. The two of you trail behind Sam, who was already halfway at the the garage. Out of hearing range, Dean takes a second to glance at his brother before leaning close to your ear and whispering, “I can’t wait to get back here so I can get you out of that dress and fuck you, because I can guarantee that no matter how beautiful you look right now, you’ll look even better naked on my bed.”


“I look forward to it.” You whisper back, though you tighten your grip on his arm and pray that you don’t fall, because the words that Dean just whispered to you have turned your legs to jello.

In all, you’re rather grateful that the foundation you applied is hiding your blush, because you just know that if you were wearing no makeup right now, your face would be as red as your dress.