#Adam Milligan x F!Reader

[sorenmarie87]

Please Don’t Go

Pairing(s)/Character(s):  Adam x F!Reader.  Dean, Sam (mentioned) 

Word Count:  1,353

Warning(s): Angst, Pregnant Reader. Language (from Dean), Pissed off Dean

A/N: I want to thank @iflostreturntosteverogers​​ for betaing this for me and I want to thank @flamencodiva​​ for helping me when I got stuck on a portion of this <333  This fic was written for Mel’s 3k Celebration and my prompt was “Don’t leave me… ”

--

There was nothing that could ruin your day, or at least that's what you thought at the time.  You had just finished sending some good news to your boyfriend over a text, and were making plans to go visit him when you heard Dean stomping through the bunker.  Sam trailed behind him but it was clear that something, or someone had pissed him off.

“Hey Dean -”  Your greeting fell on deaf ears as he stormed past the room you were staying in.  You knew it was probably the wrong time to bring anything up, so you quietly closed your door and started throwing all of your dirty clothes into your laundry basket.  You threw your phone and a book you were currently reading on top of the basket and made your way towards the laundry room.  

--

Have you eaten yet?

It was those four words that pulled you away from your book and made you wander down the bunker halls toward the kitchen.  You searched through the fridges and cabinets until you found a loaf of bread, a jar of creamy peanut butter and some grape jam.  You took four slices of bread and placed them on a plate before you started spreading the peanut butter on the first two slices and then the jam.  You were hungry enough to eat this at least so you pressed the sandwiches together before taking a seat at the kitchen table.    

“PB & J. the dinner of champs.”  You quietly chuckled as Dean walked past you and headed straight for the fridge himself. 

“I know I should be eating more, but I didn’t want to dirty up a bunch of dishes.”  

Dean nodded his head and proceeded to make a couple sandwiches of his own.  "Mind if I eat with you?" 

"I always enjoy your company Dean, you know that."  You smiled as you took a bite of your sandwich and that was when you thought about the conversation you had with your boyfriend beforehand.  You placed your sandwich back on your plate, and just watched Dean as he ate.  

“Dean, there’s something I need to tell you.”  You had been dreading this conversation since you found out but he was your best friend and you wanted him to know.  It was hard enough keeping it a secret that you were dating someone, but it would be harder to hide your growing belly in the upcoming months.  “I just need you to promise me something.”

“Anything, you know that.”   

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship..”  You whispered as you felt Dean squeeze your hand that was resting on the table.  

“It won’t.  Now what do you wanna tell me?” He’s gonna hate me, I know it.  You took a deep breath, and released it before looking him in the eye.

“I’m pregnant.”  Dean let out a cough as his food went down the wrong pipe. Did you really just say you were pregnant? He let out a few more coughs trying to dislodge the food that he felt got stuck.  

“Is it mine?”  You shook your head no as Dean slumped forward in his chair.  “Thank god.”

“Why would you even ask if the baby was yours?”

“Because we slept together a few months back, or don’t you remember that?”  That night was simultaneously one of the best and worst nights of your life.    

“I remember that night quite vividly and I know for a fact you wore a condom.”

“You know what I remember from that night?  You got dressed in a hurry after we finished and then we didn’t hear anything from you for a couple of weeks.”  Dean took a sip of his beer and placed it down on the table.  “Are you planning on keeping it?”  

“That’s a stupid question, Dean.  Of course I am.”  

“Is your boyfriend a hunter, sweetheart?”  Hunter’s kid sure but Adam was raised without any knowledge of the hunting world.  

“No, he’s not and I’m grateful for that everyday.”  Dean sighed as he took another drink of his bear.  “What would you have done in my place Dean?”

  “I would’ve kept my legs shut.”

“That’s rich coming from you Winchester.  I seem to recall the nights when all it took was a woman winking at you and you left with ‘em.  So don’t pull this holier than thou routine with me.”

“I’m just saying you could’ve been smarter and not tied down this guys life with a lifetime burden.”

"Joke's on you because he's actually excited that I'm pregnant.  Unlike you Dean, he has no one besides me and our kid.”  

“If he’s so excited, then why are you still here?  Why aren’t you off playing house with your mystery boyfriend?”

“Gee Dean, I’m grateful this baby isn’t yours but if you want me to leave I will.  I was gonna have a nice civil conversation about what I should do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”  You gathered up your plate and moved towards the sink.  “I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.  I guess, thanks for housing me until I get my shit together.”

Dean is silent as he watches you walk out of the kitchen.  This whole situation was fucked up and you still didn’t tell him who the guy was and that pissed him off even more.  He picked up his beer bottle and threw it at the wall.  Once it shattered, he realized that he was not feeling any better.  Dean picked up his plate and immediately did the same thing.  Dean didn’t want you to leave, not really.  He was being a stubborn, upset jackass and he knew that.

--

"Please don't leave us."  

"Dean, you made it pretty clear how you felt about this entire situation."  

"I was pissed and not thinking straight.  You know how I can get."  

"I know Dean, I really do but it's better this way."  You had just finished loading your bags into the back seat of your car.  

"Don't leave me..."  Dean usually wasn’t an emotional man you noticed.  He guards his feelings and when no one is around, that’s when he breaks down.  You know if you turn around and look at him, you’ll regret it.  He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you so that his chest is pressed flat against your back.  

“Dean -”

“I know you’re set on leaving.  Just let me have this, okay?”  You softly whisper out an okay and you feel him press his lips on the back of your head.  “He better treat you right, you hear me?”

“He’s been nothing but a gentleman to me.”  You wanted to add something more to that sentence but that little voice inside told you not to.  “I just want to give him the life he was never able to have.”

“Will you finally tell me who this mystery guy is?” 

“I can’t - you’re already pissed at me…”

“Please, just tell me.”

“Adam.”

"Adam....The only person I know that's named Adam is,"  The gears in Dean's head started turning as you felt his arms drop from around your shoulders.  "Adam Milligan?"

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“How long?”

“Why does it matter at this point?”

“How long?”  He growled out.

“A year or so…”

"You’ve been going behind our backs for a fucking year now, and never thought to tell us who you were seeing?  Did Sam know?"

“He had no idea.”  

“I won’t wish you good luck, or tell you that you’re going to be an amazing mother.  I’m going to pry myself away, and tell you goodbye before I say something I might regret.”  True to his word, Dean stepped away and you heard his boots stomp on the pavement towards the door leading into the bunker.  

“Goodbye Dean.”  You quietly whispered to his retreating figure and got into your car.

I don’t know how long this drive will take but I’ll be home soon.  Wanna meet up at our spot when I get closer?

Adam - Of course.  Please be safe, alright?

Always am.  See you soon.

--

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Dean Winchester - @idreamofplaid​​​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @akshi8278​​​

[hoboal87]

Don't Speak, Part 18

Pairing: implied Winchesters x F!Reader, implied Adam x F!Reader, implied Dean x Jo

Characters: Sam, F!Reader, Dean, John, Adam, Claire, mentions of Bobby, Ellen, Jo

Summary: John's been gone for a month, and Y/N has yet to Sam and Dean her secret.

Warnings: Character Death, past miscarriage, pregnancy, implied affair, secrets, time jumps, naive reader, legal junk, bits of fluff

Word Count: <2k

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

Don’t Speak Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

Part 17

The circumstances of John’s death still remain a mystery even weeks later. The first time you gently press for information, Sam brushes you off casually, but there’s an underlying anger that you can’t help noticing, and you quickly drop the subject. You don’t tell Sam about your pregnancy, never seeming to find the right time, not that you’ve had many opportunities; Sam has been all but ignoring you since he and Dean arrived home.

John’s funeral is a private affair, his ashes scattered over the grounds, and a surprisingly modest headstone is erected next to Mary’s. Bobby and Ellen, as well as who you assume is Joanna, hidden beneath an overly large cloak, are the only members of the staff allowed to attend. After the conclusion of the ceremony you walk back into the manor. Sam offers you his arm stiffly when you stumble slightly, and you take it, just in time to feel your knees giving out from under you; everything goes black and fogginess clouds your ears.

When you come to, you are in your bed; Adam, Bobby and Claire by your side. Bobby and Adam are speaking in hushed tones, but you’re unable to make out any clear words. Claire is rubbing the small swell of her belly with one hand, holding a book in the other.

“She’s awake,” Adam is the first to notice your flickering eyes. “Y/N– Mrs. Winchester,” he quickly corrects, “you gave us quite the scare.”

Your thoughts immediately go to the baby you hoped that you were still carrying. Clutching your stomach as you look up to ask the unspoken question that must be written all over your face. What if you’d already done something wrong in this pregnancy? What if your baby was already gone?

“Everything’s fine, Missus,” Adam soothes you.

“But– I fell�� What if–?” Your breaths get heavier and your vision tunnels, as you struggle to take in the air.

“Calm down, Y/N,” Adam doesn’t correct himself this time, and sits down next to you. “I need you to breathe, Y/N,” he orders you gently. “Open that window, please,” he says to no one in particular, but Bobby is quick to move, letting in the cool Kansas air.

“Deep breaths,” Claire takes your hand in hers, and pulls it to her chest, letting you feel the rise and fall of her chest as you mimic her breathing. “It’s okay, Y/N,” she says softly, “listen to Dr. Milligan.”

Once you’ve calmed, Bobby leaves you alone with Claire and Adam, muttering something about keeping the boys away for the time being, probably remembering how you reacted to them the last time you were in a state like this.

Dorothy arrives late that afternoon, confirming your pregnancy to still be intact, but she suggests that you be on bedrest for the next few days. You ask Bobby to keep the news of your pregnancy a secret, claiming that now isn’t an appropriate time to tell your husband. Bobby reluctantly agrees as do Claire and Ellen, you couldn’t disappoint Sam again if you lost this baby as well.

February is gone more quickly than you can register, and the smell of near-spring fills the air. Only a few days after the boys arrive home, Dean stepped into his new role as master of the Winchester Estate. You’d planned to tell Sam about your pregnancy after the funeral, hoping to give him and Dean some good news, but after your collapse you were too nervous that you wouldn’t be able to bring this baby to term. You couldn’t stand to disappoint the brothers again.

Since he and Dean arrived home, Sam had stopped sharing your bed and barely spoke to you. You even overheard the brothers talking about taking on another case as soon as everything was settled. You’re shocked that they would want to go back to working so quickly after the death of their father, but you couldn’t deny you were happiest when they were gone.

As February comes to a close, a lawyer, an older man who introduces himself Joseph Finch, comes to give the reading of John’s will. You and Claire sit behind the brothers, listening intently as the deceased patriarch determines the rest of your lives.

It takes you by surprise when you hear that Bobby and Ellen, as well as the still-absent Joanna, are bequeathed a small fortune: one thousand dollars each and were to remain on as staff as per John’s bequest. You know that Bobby and John were life-long friends, and Ellen had been working for the Winchesters since Dean was an infant, so you could understand John leaving them with something, but why Joanna as well?

You expect a scoff from Sam or Dean but neither says anything, and if you weren’t paying attention, you’d have missed the briefest of smirks forming on Dean’s face at the mention of Joanna’s name. You tune out Mr. Finch as he drones on when a strange look forms on Claire’s face, followed by a small smile. You and her, like the brothers, had developed a secret language of sorts, and when your eyes meet, she grabs your hand, pulling it from the barely-there swell of your stomach and places it on her own.

The faintest of movements comes from her belly, and you both must contain your giggles as you feel her baby move against your palm. You never got the chance to feel your baby kick against you, and you can’t imagine how it must feel. A fear fills you as you get closer to the same point in your pregnancy that you’d lost your first baby, but Dorothy, who makes weekly visits, assures you that your pregnancy is strong.

For hours, you sit silently as Mr. Finch spews legal jargon that you barely understand. A long list of assets, including another home in a place called Lebanon, which Sam inherits, are gone over in minute detail. You, for the most part, drift in and out of the conversation, letting your mind wander as to how any of it will affect your life. You were bound to the Winchesters for now and forever, especially now that you finally had a child growing in your belly.

Your eyes flutter to Claire, who’s rubbing the swell of her stomach. She, like you, has seemed to accept her fate, and the once-bubbly personality seems to be slowly returning the more time you and she are allowed to spend together and away from the brothers. An annoyed sigh comes from Dean as he asks Mr. Finch to repeat himself.

“The inheritor of the estate will be whichever one of my sons is the first to produce a legitimate male heir.” Mr. Finch says cautiously. “An additional inheritance of ten thousand dollars will be given for him to do with however he sees fit, with a minimum of one thousand must to go into a trust to allow for the boy’s, and any future children’s, education and training.”

“And to the mother of any legitimate male heirs,” Mr. Finch clears his throat, gathering your and Claire’s attention. “A trust in her name is to be created, with no less than five thousand dollars, so that in the event of her husband's demise she is able to provide for her child.” Sam and Dean share a look between them, and Dean shakes his head, as if he’s telling Sam to not say anything. Though John could be as cruel as his sons, you’d come to learn quickly how to keep him happy. He was much more level-headed, more predictable than Sam and Dean, but you’d never expected something like this.

There is a tenseness in the air of the house in the days following the reading of John's will, and you get a first hand look when you catch Dean and Bobby in the middle of a heated conversation.

“These people worked for your daddy since before you were born, and you’re gonna just rid yourself of ‘em?” Though you knew through Sam that Ellen and Bobby had had a large part in raising the brothers, you’d rarely seen them speak so informally to each other, the way Bobby had with John. Dean doesn’t back down from his decision, and Bobby looks like he might hit him, but he walks away grumbling to himself “not the man I raised,” as he passes you.

“What do you think of the name James?” Claire says as you make your way into a new part of the grounds. Sam and Dean have been absent for the last three weeks, taking a case in Virginia, and you and Claire had been taking advantage of your new found freedom. You rub your stomach, rounding out perfectly under your dress. You didn't expect to be showing this soon, but you welcomed it as a sign that your pregnancy is a healthy one.

“Dean doesn’t want to name him John?” You ask solemnly, you’d figured that Dean would want to honor his fallen father. “What if it’s a girl?”

“Amelia Mary, after our mothers,” she smiles softly, and you don’t comment on the fact that she didn’t answer your first question. “Do you think he would like that?”

You nod, not wanting to spoil the idea that both brothers are interested in the children you are carrying, but you’re sure that Dean has spent about as much time with Claire as Sam has with you.

“Have you and Sam talked about any names?”

"He doesn't know," you admit, unable to keep it to yourself any longer. You’d have to tell him when he returned, as it was becoming more visible by the day.

"Y/N!" Claire's eyes widen as she follows you into a hedge maze. "What do you mean he doesn't know?"

"I–" you don't know how to explain it to her, that you couldn't tell Sam you were pregnant because you were nearly certain that the child you were carrying didn't belong to him or Dean but Adam. Not that it mattered; John made it very clear when the Winchesters first took you that no matter who put a child in your belly Sam would be its father.

"Are you afraid that something might happen, like it did before?" Claire asks cautiously, and you nod slightly. She isn't wrong. You were nearly halfway through your last pregnancy when you lost your first baby, and though Dorothy had assured you multiple times that there was nothing to indicate that something would go wrong with this one, it didn't ease the worry that you felt deep inside.

"My mother told me once it was bad luck to talk about it before your third month, and…"

Claire's forehead crinkles at your statement, her eyes falling down to the swell of your stomach. "Y/N, how far do you think you are?"

"I'm not.. I don't…"

"When did you last bleed, Y/N?" She asks pointedly, and you're unsure where she's going with this line of questioning.

You have to think for a moment, your courses had become completely unpredictable in the aftermath of your miscarriage and the brothers’ attack on you and Claire. When Adam told you that he suspected you were pregnant, Dorothy confirmed it, asking a similar question, and when you asked him if the child you were carrying belonged to him, he smiled and pulled you in for a hug. Did he know something that you didn't?

"Near the third week of December."

Claire takes a moment, seemingly counting as she looks down at her hands. "You're past three months, Y/N."

"No," you shake your head. Your child belonged to Adam, that much you were sure of.

"You can't be less than that," Claire explains, "Sam was gone for a month."

"But Adam…"

"Adam?"

Part 19

Feedback is FUEL! Please tell me your thoughts!!

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[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

The Road Ahead | Adam Milligan x Reader

Words: 2279

Warning: None, except some typos and Adam not being in this one as much.

A/N: How does writing work again? What do you mean I have to type it out? I’m thinking of a series name for this to organize these continuous oneshots. No promises of regular updates. It’s only when I can.

Continuation of [True Winchester Fashion] and [Night at the Museum].

-

The museum director hummed softly to herself as her heels echoed through the empty halls of the building. The exhibit was coming along nicely and her contact had come through and found an actual grimoire. Finally, her years of searching were finally over. If only she had brushed up on her Latin, then she would have had no problem translating it herself. Her senior curator had fallen sick after a week of trying to translate the ancient book, which left the college student rookie to translate. She had kept an eye on you for some time now. She had seen the potential in you, the potential of witchcraft. It takes practice and intelligence to master it and she had only wished the matrilineal side of her family had kept on the tradition of passing down the defunct coven’s knowledge. No matter. Blood of the coven is thicker than water of the womb, as they say. You make your own family.

With each passing week of you translating the grimoire, more incidents had been occurring around town. She wanted to approach you about it, to help you control the power of the book, but it would mean revealing her intentions too soon. She had watched you run in fear when the growing number of creatures had reached the museum. Then, those damn FBI agents had to get involved. They stopped by the museum after you had reported the bodies of the security guards that night and she had to pretend to be a clueless director that had limited knowledge about the objects in the museum and the history they hold.

It would be a matter of time before the grimoire gets out of control.

Exiting the museum, she felt a cold presence behind her. She spun around and saw a woman with the reddest hair, palest skin, and radiating the most powerful energy she had ever felt. The woman’s red lips split into a smile, a chill running down the director’s back telling her that it wasn’t a friendly one.

“Who are you?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Oh, dear. Oh, sweet dearie. You dare mess with magic and not know who I am?” The woman chuckled, taking a step forward. “I’m Rowena, the most powerful witch that ever graced this horrible planet and… the current Queen of Hell.”

“Queen of Hell. You must be joking.”

Rowena stared her down and the director suddenly felt her knees giving out. “I have been told that I have a grim sense of humor, but I do not joke about this. And you, missy, must think that witchcraft is a joke. What was it? Some kind of soul searching, finding out who you are from your family tree? Think you could feel close to them if you get a fancy old book and a cauldron?” she said mockingly. “What’s your name, sweetheart.”

“Joana Faith,” she gasped as the weight on her shoulders lifted.

Rowena hummed. “You. You need to fix this mess. As much as I love chaos, I love organized chaos and I’m not going to let some amature run around with a powerful grimoire like she’s in Harry Potter. You watch yourself, because I will also be watching you, Joana Faith.”

“Alright, alright.” Joana slowly picked herself off the ground. “And what about those FBI agents that have been snooping around? How is all of this going to be explained?”

Rowena rolled her eyes, a mix of irritable fondness in one gesture. “Those boys. They probably already know by now. As long as you set things right, you don’t have to worry about them. You do know how to stabilize that grimoire, right?”

“Well…”

Rowena rolled her eyes again.

-

Adam felt Michael’s presence in the back of his mind, asking to take over. “I can help,” the archangel said. Adam nodded, taking a step back and allowing Michael to take control.

“I don’t know what to do,” you moaned, clutching your head between your hands as eerie figures began to crowd around the windows of your apartment.

Your eyes landed on the grimoire, the leathery surface and crispy pages drawing you in like a magnet. Heat radiated off of the old padlock as your hand drifted closer. There were ancient powers in that book, power to change things, to manipulate them, and to end things. And the grimoire chose you.

You could hear Adam’s voice, but it sounded like you were under water. You couldn’t catch what it was, but you felt your heart pick up in panic. This wasn’t right. This was something that you don’t know about… but maybe you can learn to.

Firm hands gripped your shoulders as you were yanked away from the grimoire. Adam’s hazel eyes were looking down at you, but it didn’t feel like Adam. You still couldn’t understand what he was saying. He frowned, pressing two fingers onto your forehead. Heat spread through your head, brightness filling your vision as if you were pulled out of the ocean.

“Sam and Dean will be coming to deal with the monsters outside, but I need you to focus.” He paused, watching as your eyes still drifted down to the grimoire. “That thing doesn’t call to just anyone, you know.”

As you calmed yourself, so did the noises outside, the dark shadows disappearing from view. Your eyes snapped back to him. “What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear, that you have a gift and a curse,” came a Scottish woman’s voice.

You spun a head around and saw a red haired woman and Joana who looked haggard. The red haired woman rolled her eyes at her.

“Oh, please, you want to be a witch and you can’t even handle teleportation,” she chided. She looked over at you and Adam and smiled. “Hello, Michael. Fancy seeing you here. Playing college student, I see.”

“Rowena,” ‘Adam’ said with a curt nod, “You’re here for the book.”

“Of course I am. Even if the Winchesters deal with those monsters outside, there’ll be more coming if we don’t get that book under control. You,” Rowena sauntered over to you, “How much of the book you’ve read already?”

“Almost all of it,” you said sheepishly.

She hummed, looking almost impressed. A grimoire would be difficult for a beginner, but for someone who had no experience to make it that far into the book is a feat in itself. Maybe you’d be useful to her in the future, or maybe become a potential apprentice.

“Well, you two are glad that I’m here. Listen up, I’m about to give you a Witchcraft crash course and I expect you to pay attention. You wouldn’t want me to visit you when I’m upset. Michael, help those boys outside while I sort this out, would you?”

Adam stood up and gave her a look of warning. “Make sure (Y/n) is safe-”

“Or else what, dearie?” she smirked. There wasn’t much use arguing with the Queen of Hell, especially if it was Rowena Macleod.

He glowered before turning to you. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured you.

You watched him disappear with a small gust, strands of your hair flying out of your face and loose paper flying off the table. “What do you mean by Michael?” you asked Rowena.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Your boyfriend Adam is the vessel of the archangel Michael,” she said nonchalantly, “but we’ll unpack that later. We’ve got work to do.”

-

There was an energy that coursed through your veins that you never knew was possible. It was invigorating, like you could fly or punch through a wall. Rowena warned you about becoming too power hungry.

“Ambition is good, but too much can kill you,” she said, then added with a smirk, “Unless you find a way to cheat death, I suggest you know your limits first.”

After the incident with the grimoire, everything seemed to go back to normal. Your friend, who the Winchesters had saved from the vampire den also had no recollection, convinced that she was drugged and kidnapped while your other friend was not so lucky in getting out. The two of you mourned all the same, but only you knew how she really died. No one in town even remembered what happened with the disappearances and the killings, except for you and Joana. You now see her in a different light, knowing what her main goal was in creating the Salem witch exhibit. Her talk with Rowena seemed to humble her and she regarded you with a little more respect than she used to. The exhibit was still ongoing, but this time, no dangerous objects for display. No, that grimoire stayed with you after Rowena helped the two of you contain it. It was now imprinted with you and under your care. You didn’t know where to start.

Adam had disappeared that night and no one remembered him, either. It was as if he had vanished along with everything that was unnatural, like some weird fever dream. Rowena had said that he was a vessel to an angel, the archangel Michael of all things. In any other circumstances, you would have had a hard time believing it, but with the grimoire and the monsters and witches that came with it, it was just another piece to the universal puzzle found. Now you know the truth. The things in stories like the werewolves, the vampires, the witches, and even angels and demons, were all real, and there were people that dealt with them within the shadows. They come and go and only a few even notice them. They save lives without any recognition or reward. Hunters, they were called. The Winchesters.

After graduating college, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. There was the museum library, but it was no longer what you wanted to do. Now that you have discovered witchcraft, you wanted to know what you could do. Maybe you could help people, too, like Adam and his brothers.

You cleared up your desk at the museum as you snacked on the brownies that a senior curator had brought in for your last day. They were sad to see you go, but you told them that you had applied to a museum in the city and wanted to see where you went from there.

“You are always welcomed back here,” one of them said as they hugged you.

Your last stop was the cemetery where your friend had already left flowers. She didn’t talk to you all that much, saying she needed more time with her family and had sought professional help to cope with your mutual loss. Maybe it was for the best. You still blamed yourself for your mutual friend’s death after all.

You turned to leave and was immediately faced with Joana. She had dropped her perky and enthusiastic mask that she had kept up around others and offered a sympathetic smile instead.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said, “I didn’t realize that an old leathery book would cause this much trouble. I’m sorry.” She looked around, eyes squinting as the summer sun beamed down on the two of you. “I heard you were leaving town. Good for you. I… there’s another thing I should apologize for.”

It was then you realized that she had a small book tucked under her arm. She pulled it out and handed it over to you. It was worn from constant use, scribbles and rough sketches on every page. Flipping through them, words like wendigo, werewolves, and revenant, stood out.

“It had been left on your desk that night when… the whole thing with the grimoire had been put to rest. I got curious and… I might have borrowed it. I realized it must have been left by those hunters that had helped us,” Joana explained.

“Possibly by Adam,” you muttered, closing the journal.

“Adam. Rowena said that he was a vessel of an angel. Is that true? Did you know?”

You shook your head. “Not sure how much from the Queen of Hell is true but I wouldn’t be too surprised anymore if it was. There is a lot out there that people don’t know about. What about you? What are you going to do now?”

She shrugged. “I could dabble here and there. I think I want to use it to protect this town, though. After everything that happened, I realized the impact of one thing could have on a whole community, especially when it involves things that people don’t believe existed. If those hunters hadn’t come here, hell, even if Adam hadn’t decided to go to school here, who knows what would have happened.”

“Yeah. Makes you think about those that weren’t so lucky. I’m going to try to learn more about this… this whole business with supernatural things. If I have a gift, I should use it, right?”

Joana nodded before stepping back. “Well, good luck. Come back whenever and tell me about what you’ve found. I’m curious, but I don’t think I’m cut out for venturing.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

As you walked towards your car, there was the bittersweet ache in your chest. You had never lived away from home before, the town was practically all you knew. Yet, there was something inside of you that felt that you had the potential to do more and be more than what you were now, and it wasn’t going to change unless you stepped away into something new.

The road ahead was dangerous, but it was better than staying in one spot forever. Maybe one day, you would even run into Adam again.

[ao3feed-wayward]

Make Me

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2FE6jFx

by reigningqueenofwords

Words: 707, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adam Milligan, Reader

Relationships: Adam x Reader - Relationship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2FE6jFx

[ao3feedsabriel]

Blood & Iron

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2m3nbeq

by Angelkissesanddemonsblood

It’s been millenia since Evangeline (the reader) saw the light of day. Chained in a cave and forced to watch the demise of Sam Winchester she lives in a vicious cycle of her worst nightmare. Breaking the chains that bind her and following her gut she lands herself exactly where she always should have been, protecting the human in her charge (Sam). After recovering she sets out to right the wrongs of her people, reigniting an age old love in the process. Despite all her efforts not everything can be fixed with a little magic and dreams of white picket fences.

Words: 374, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie, Charlie Bradbury, Adam Milligan, Mary Winchester, Rowena MacLeod, Crowley (Supernatural), Assorted Angels, Chuck Shurley, Chuck (God), Original Female Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Reader, castiel x reader, Sabriel - Relationship, Gabriel & Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Gore, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, it's pretty sad, honestly these poor characters, im a terrible person, but like enjoy i guess

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[revwinchester]

Eyes That Know

Summary: The reader is a rock star with heavy addiction issues.  Sam is a former rocker who has been to rehab and been sober for a number of years.  When the two meet at a party sparks fly and they fall into a romance.  After losing one girlfriend to addiction, Sam can’t do it again and makes the reader choose between him and her drugs.  

Author: revwinchester

Pairing/Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Lucifer, Dean Winchester, Adam Milligan, Jimmy Novak, Ruby, Amelia Richardson

Word Count: 5697, including lyrics (which are italicized throughout)

Warnings: talk and use of soft and hard drugs, implied prostitution, cocaine overdose, major character deaths, mention of minor character death, mental illness - specifically addiction, anxiety, and depression, all the angst.  Also, one of the character deaths could be read as suicide - though it’s not intended to be one - and the song lyrics mention the historical suicide of Vincent Van Gogh.

A/N: This ended up being for two challenges and it is the angstiest thing I have ever written.  I cried while I wrote it.  First, @nichelle-my-belle is hosting Nichelle’s 4K Angst Challenge and my prompt was “if you kill all my demons, my angels might die too.”  I was looking for a song to frame the fic when @thing-you-do-with-that-thing announced the SPN Anti-Valentine’s Challenge and I saw one of the prompts was “Josh Groban - Starry Night,��� which is a cover of Don McLean’s “Vincent,” a song I absolutely love.  You can bet I snapped that one up real quick! Click on each of the links to head to youtube for two different versions of the song.  They are so different but each are beautiful in their own right (though, if you’ve never heard it before, I recommend you start with the original).

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Eyes That Know - 

Starry, starry night Paint your palette blue and gray Look out on a summer's day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul Shadows on the hills Sketch the trees and the daffodils Catch the breeze and the winter chills In colors on the snowy linen land

You spied him across the room at an industry party: Sam Winchester.  You had always loved Vessel, the band he had played with, and had been disappointed when he had hung up his bass guitar and let his brothers replace him.  You had heard the stories about why he had done all that, of course.  How he had gotten addicted to cocaine, been convinced by his older brother to go to rehab, and ultimately decided that he needed to get out of the business if he was going to stay sober.  He’d stayed in L.A. in order to be close to his brother, Dean, and his half brother, Adam Milligan, the other two original members of Vessel.  If Sam was here, that probably meant his brothers were somewhere nearby, too.  

You had just taken a hit and were feeling relaxed and confident as your eyes followed his movements through the room.  Soon enough, he looked up, likely feeling someone watching him, and his gorgeous hazel eyes were locked with yours.  He quickly finished the conversation in which he was engaged and made his way over to you.

“You’re Y/N,” he declared.  “One of Lucifer’s clients?”

“And you’re Sam Winchester,” you replied coolly, despite the fact that you were fangirling inside now that he was standing right in front of you.  

Sam tilted his glass toward you in ascent and the two of you fell into easy conversation, turning out the crowd for the rest of the evening.  At one point, Sam noticed your hand shaking a bit and asked if you were alright.

“Oh, yeah.  Just coming down,” you told him.

Sam’s face fell and you rushed to comfort him.  “Nothing hard, I swear.  Luc encouraged me to talk to someone about my anxiety and then he helped me get my meds without being spotted by the paparazzi.”  It wasn’t a lie, not entirely anyway.  You had talked to someone about anxiety, you didn’t do hard drugs, and Lucifer had provided you with what you had taken to deal with your anxiety tonight.  You just didn’t mention that you were self medicating.  

Sam smiled again.  It didn’t quite reach his eyes but you could tell he wanted to believe you and that you’d be able to win him over again.  “How about we get out of here and you take me to dinner?” you suggested.

Sam agreed and texted his brother, letting him know he’d be leaving.  You tossed him your keys and he gave you a quizzical look.  “If you’re taking me out, you’re driving,” you sassed, before turning to walk toward the door, knowing that Sam was following you like an overgrown puppy dog.  You led him to your car with him still questioning how you knew he didn’t have a car at the party he needed to get home.  “I figure you probably arrived with Dean and Adam since you had to tell one of them you’d be leaving.”  You slid into the passenger seat of your Jaguar F-Type, unsure if Sam’s gigantic frame would actually fit now that you were at the car.  

He managed to squeeze in, though.  As soon as Sam started the convertible, you hit the button to open the top of the car, giving the man all the headroom in the world while he adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs.

Sam drove you to a diner about 45 minutes outside of Hollywood.  It was a bit of a trek but the food was good and the owner was a friend of Dean’s, he told you, so he trusted that there wouldn’t be any leak of your date and the two of you wouldn’t end up surrounded by cameras.

You were seated and ordered quickly before the conversation turned to their music.  “So, you switched the music from your iPod to the radio pretty quickly in the car,” Sam began, making you blush.

You had been listening to one of Vessel’s earlier releases, from when Sam was still in the band, on your way to the party and had hoped you’d been quick enough and he hadn’t noticed.  No such luck, apparently.  

“Well, you knew I was one of Lucifer’s clients so, you’re allowed to know about my career but I can’t be a fan of yours?” You asked cheekily.  

Sam laughed.  “Of course you can, I just… that was “Family Business,” right? That album was 12 years ago.  How old were you then, even?”

“Old enough,” you replied with a wink.  And it was true, Sam wasn’t that much older than you but Lucifer had suggested playing up your youth and innocence in order to sell yourself and you had gone along with it.  Now that you were about to come out with your third album it was time for your “sexual awakening” or, at least, the sexualization of your brand.  You were grateful that you wouldn’t have to play the role of a virginal school girl anymore.  While you weren’t quite as risque as Lucifer was pushing the brand, it definitely lined up more with your actual personality than the image you’d been portraying for the past three years.  “God, I was so in love with you guys when I was a teenager,” you admitted.  

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked, cocking an eyebrow.  “Tell me more.”

“Well, I mean, what’s not to love?  You’ve got Dean fronting the band with his obvious talent on guitar, that whiskey rough voice, and those entrancing green eyes, not to mention lips that were just made to be kissed.  And Adam on drums, so young and innocent but those muscles… mmm… and always looking so serious about everything.”  You were making him suffer a little for asking the question and you could see in Sam’s eyes that he knew it.  “And then there was that bass player.  Don’t get me wrong, Jimmy is great and the band sounds almost as good as ever but that original guy… kind of quiet and mysterious, like you’d expect from a bass player, with gorgeous hair that you just want to run your fingers through before you give it a good tug while he’s kissing his way down your body, and, oh, don’t get me started on those strong, agile fingers…”

Your teasing was definitely having an effect on Sam but just as he made to stand, probably to pull you out of the diner and into a bed, your food arrived.  You scooped up your burger and took a bite, some of the juice dripping down your chin before you could wipe it away with a napkin.  Sam resettled himself on his side of the table and tucked into his meal, too, the hungry look in his eyes fading slightly as the two of you ate and chatted about less sexually charged things.  

When your meals were about half done, you decided to bring up a touchy subject.  “So, you seemed pretty crestfallen back there when I mentioned my meds were wearing off,” you pressed gently.  “Wanna tell me about that?”

“Oh, uh, that.  Yeah,” Sam stuttered, trying to buy himself a little time.

“If you don’t want to, it’s ok, Sam,” you apologized.  “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sam was looking at the table instead of at you as he spoke and you thought he might need that buffer in order to get his story out.  “I mean, if you know the band’s history, you know mine.  Or, part of it, at least.  I was using cocaine, almost killed myself because of it.  My girlfriend at the time had introduced me to the stuff and, God, the rush that came along with it… Ruby was, well, she was something else, that’s for sure.  Dean kept trying to tell me she was bad for me but I didn’t listen.  I thought I was functioning at a level I’d never reached before.  But then Ruby got killed in a drug deal gone bad,” Sam’s voice had shifted to a whisper and you reached a hand across the table to grab one of his hands.  “Stabbed, actually, in an abandoned church.  I was standing right there, saw the whole thing happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  If Dean hadn’t followed us that night, if he hadn’t been hiding right outside the door and pulled me out of there, I don’t think I would have made it out alive, either.”  Sam paused and took a shuddering breath.  

“I’m so sorry, Sam.  I didn’t realize all that,” you offered.  You really hadn’t intended to dredge up memories quite like this.  

“No, it’s good,” Sam assured you.  “No one ever talks about this side of things, at least, not in specifics, and maybe we should.  But, anyway, that’s when Dean finally got me to agree that I needed help.  He dropped me off at a rehab program before I had a chance to change my mind.  When I got out, I tried to get back into the music world, back on the stage and in the studio, but I realized that the lifestyle pulled me right back to the edge of using again.  So, I left.  I helped Dean and Adam find Jimmy and left most of that life behind.  Obviously, I’m still tangentially connected to all of it but I’ve found a good balance.”

You squeezed his hand to reassure Sam you were still there.

“Thanks,” he said, finally looking up at you again.  “Thanks.”

“No, thank you, Sam.”  Your voice was sincere.  His story had touched you.  You weren’t going to end up like Ruby; you’d be smarter.

“Anyway,” Sam continued, “I write now.  I wrote most of the music for Vessel before and I still write a lot of their stuff,” he told you.  “You, uh, you’ve sung a few of my songs, too; ended up being some of my most popular pieces, recently.  So, thanks for that.”

“No way,” you replied.  “I’d remember if Sam Winchester had the writing credit on any of my songs.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” Sam laughed.  “Only Vessel gets my real name on the credits.  You’ve done songs by G. Adreel, though.”

A shy smile spread across Sam’s face as he watched your eyes go wide.  “That’s you?” you gushed and he nodded.  “You’ve written some of my favorite songs that I’ve recorded!”

The two of you talked about life, careers, and music.  You shared some about your own history and Sam told you more about his family.  Before either of you realized, it was nearly 4 AM and Sam’s phone dinged with a text alert.

“It’s Dean,” he explained.  “He’s wondering if I’m ever coming home.”

It was so clear that Sam loved his brother fiercely and, from his stories, you knew that the sentiment was returned.  They hadn’t grown up with Adam but, once they had learned about his existence, they had welcomed him into the fold with open arms.  All of that only served to endear the younger Winchester to you even further.

Sam settled the bill and you both started the drive back to LA.  Over the coming months, you continued to write and record, paying special attention to any songs that came across your radar that had been written by Mr. Adreel.  All the while, your relationship with Sam was growing.  You shared a few more weeks of dinners well outside of LA before finally releasing a statement through your publicist and taking your relationship public.  

During these months, your manager continued to help you deal with your anxiety, upping the ante with various concoctions before finally convincing you to try cocaine.  “It’s going to be like magic,” Lucifer had assured you and he had been right.  Your confidence soared and your mind was rife with ideas.  You started relying on other writers less and less, preferring to write your own music and, aside from two amazing pieces by G. Adreel that you couldn’t pass up, your third album was full of original songs you had written.

You promised yourself that you would be careful.  You only took small amounts just before you sat down to write or backstage immediately before a performance.  This wasn’t an addiction; you were in total control.  You made the decision to start boosting your confidence before interviews and when the small amounts weren’t giving you the creative jumpstart you needed, you knew it was the right thing to up the dosage.  You never used the magic in the hours before you saw Sam.  Until once, when you misjudged how long the high would last.  You couldn’t go out with him while you were coming down, he’d notice for sure so you made another line of the white powder.  Just this once, you told yourself, just to get through this date without Sam finding out.

Now I understand What you tried to say to me How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free They would not listen,  They did not know how Perhaps they'll listen now

“You can’t keep doing this, Y/N.  You can’t live like this,” Sam told her, tears forming in his eyes.  “I can’t go down this road again and I can’t watch you kill yourself.  Please go to rehab.  I’ll take you; no one will know you’re there.  You are such a light, Y/N.  Don’t let this win.  Please.”  He knew he was begging but he didn’t care.  He loved this woman but he couldn’t do this again.  Not after Ruby.  He wouldn’t go down this path again and he couldn’t watch Y/N destroy herself either.

“If you kill all my demons, my angels might die too,” Y/N replied fearfully.

“No, baby, you don’t… You don’t need that crap.  Not to perform, not to create.  All that beauty is already in you,” Sam rasped, the tears spilling onto his cheeks.  He had never seen Y/N this bad.  He had known she was using, had helped her through some bad highs and offered to help her beat it.  Sam had suggested rehab previously, but she’d always brushed him off, told him that she just needed to finish writing or recording or get through the next tour first and then she’d stop.  The date had been continually pushed back and he’d been content to go along with her.  But she’d been late for more and more dates and interviews and had recently begun standing him up and skipping jobs all together, sometimes disappearing for a few days at a time without any word or indication that she was alright.  To say that Sam was worried about her would be a gross understatement.

“It’s in you, not in this stuff,” Sam insisted, a pit forming in his stomach as he felt his heart break.

“Sam, I…” Y/N began but he interrupted her.

“Please,” Sam begged.  “Please.”  Even to his own ears, Sam’s voice sounded so broken.

“I… I can’t Sam.  I just can’t.  Without this I’m nothing.”

The words cut deep. Sam had heard these words before.  Hell, he’d said them before.  To his brother after Ruby had gotten him hooked on the white powder, but hearing them directed at him, hearing that this relationship, his love for this woman meant nothing compared to the high… he knew it was the addiction talking but he was still gutted by her words.  

Sam had been clean for about 8 years now but even so, the allure of the cocaine was there in the back of his mind.  He knew he’d never touch the stuff again but he also knew the high, the feeling of power, of being invincible, that he was missing out on.  But Y/N was beyond any of that right now.  Sam looked at his strung out girlfriend and tried one more time.  “Please, Y/N.  Come with me; let me get you some help.”

“I don’t need help, Sam,” she snapped, “I need to write.”  Her voice was barely a whisper and she was shaking so hard that Sam knew she wouldn’t be writing a thing.

Sam knew what he had to do, he just hoped she’d make it through all of this and get the help she needed.  “I can’t do this, Y/N.”  His voice was hard and he schooled his face into an expression to match his tone.  

Y/N looked up at him with tears in her eyes.  “Sammy, no…” she whispered.

He reached down and grabbed the plastic bag of powder that was sitting beside her.   “It’s me or this shit, Y/N.  You can’t have both.”  He knew the ultimatum was harsh but he needed to be clear with her.  He’d lost Ruby to this life and he couldn’t watch as Y/N, someone he actually loved, destroyed herself.

He stood for a moment as her eyes darted between his own hazel eyes and the bag of cocaine he had taken from her.  Her silence spoke volumes.  Sam threw the bag back to the floor in front of her, the cocaine spilling out in a white cloud, before turning on his heel, walking through the door and out of her life.  

Starry, starry night Flaming flowers that brightly blaze Swirling clouds in violet haze Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue Colors changing hue Morning fields of amber grain Weathered faces lined in pain Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

You sat on the floor in your apartment, your back pressed against the couch and tried to scoop up as much of the magic as you could.  That’s what this stuff was, magic.  Why couldn’t Sam see that?  Why couldn’t he remember?  Maybe if he’d just try some again, he’d remember…  The songs you were able to write when you were filled with the feelings and images… there was no way you could do it without the magic.  

You put the meager amount you had been able to collect from the carpet onto the table and picked out some of the longer fibers you had gathered along with it.  Looking at the small pile you already knew it wouldn’t be enough.  You crawled across the floor to where you had dumped your purse and dug out your cellphone before making your way back across to your spot in front of the couch.  

You pulled up your manager’s contact information and pressed the button to dial him.  While the phone rang you inhaled the powder you had gathered from the floor, breathing deeply through your nose.  

After the third ring, you heard the familiar voice that always promised either a job or a high.  “Hey babe, what can I do for you?”

“I need more, Luc,” you breathed into the phone.  

“More? Already? I told you that I wouldn’t be able to get you any more for at least a week and that you needed make the magic last.”  You could hear the smile in Lucifer’s voice but didn’t pay it any mind.

“Sam was here and…” you began but your manager cut you off.

“He was?  Is he back in the fold?” he asked you eagerly.  Lucifer had told you multiple times that it was his goal to get Sam back into Vessel.  He had managed the band but when Sam left, Luc had been kicked to the curb as well and thought that if he could get Sam to rejoin the family band, he’d get the golden egg back.  You had long since realized that, along with Ruby, Lucifer had been the one to supply Sam with cocaine and you suspected that he hoped the way back in was to get Sam hooked again.  Until you had come along, Vessel had been his most profitable venture and losing them had been a major blow to his credibility.

“No,” you told your manager, “no.  Sam is… Sam is gone.”  The words felt wrong on your tongue but the new high was kicking in and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.  “He left.  But I’m awesome and now I can fuck whoever I want.  But there was… there was an accident, he surprised me and I dropped the bag and it spilled into the carpet.  I need to write, Luc, I need it.”  

Lucifer muttered something that you couldn’t quite make out but before you could ask about it, he spoke louder.  “I think I can get you more but it’s not going to be cheap.”

“Whatever it costs, I can pay it,” you urged.  You were one of the most popular musicians currently performing, money was not an issue and you told Lucifer as much.

“It’s not your money I want, Y/N.  In fact, I’m positive I can get you more magic than ever before now that Sam isn’t a hangup,” he informed you.  “If…” Lucifer trailed off, leaving you to anticipate his next words.

“‘If’ what,” you questioned.  

“If you give me your body,” your manager revealed.  “Think about it: all the magic you could ever want - all the creativity, the confidence, the power - no charge,” Lucifer teased.  “All you have to do is say yes.”

You didn’t hesitate.  It wasn’t even a question in your mind, you needed the magic, needed the high, needed to create.  “Yes.”

For they could not love you But still your love was true And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night You took your life as lovers often do But I could have told you Vincent This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

Sam was driving through downtown Lawrence, Kansas, on his way home from work and flipping through the radio stations when a familiar voice caught his attention.  It was Y/N’s latest single, a cover of Don McLean’s song “Vincent.”  Sam had always loved this song and Y/N’s voice and interpretation definitely did it justice.  He hadn’t seen Y/N in about a year.  He still thought about her, though; still hoped she’d call him to tell him she’d gotten help.  He still loved her, too, probably always would but he had done his best to move on.  Even now, listening to her voice singing his favorite song through his car’s speakers, he was on his way to a date with a veterinarian he’d met by chance three months ago.  

After he’d left Y/N, he realized that he needed to leave the music business and L.A. behind him completely if he ever truly wanted to get away from his past and his pain over losing her.  He’d stopped writing altogether, moved to Kansas, to the city where he had been born, and picked up a job working at a record store while he debated going back to school.

The song ended and the radio show’s hosts began talking.  “This was an interesting choice for a first single from her new album but Y/N did an amazing job with this song,” one of the hosts gushed.  Sam had to agree with him.  

His co-host interrupted him, her voice sad.  “It’s also going to be her last single and her fourth record, which released late last month, will be her final album.  We’re saddened to report the news that Y/N was found dead in her hotel room this morning, just 12 hours before she was set to kick off her latest tour at Madison Square Garden in New York City.  The early reports are saying Y/N accidentally overdosed in her room and died sometime during the night.”

Sam slammed on the breaks, nearly causing an accident.  He pulled his car onto the side of the road and frantically thrust the gear shift into park as he numbly listened to the rest of the news report.

“Though she allegedly had a number of recent flings, Y/N was most recently romantically linked to Sam Winchester, formerly of the band Vessel.  The pair was reported to have split a year ago.  She is, unfortunately, the latest member to join the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse, and Kurt Cobain in the infamous 27 Club.”  The female radio host’s voice was full of emotion as she read off the news bulletin.  Though Y/N had likely never met this woman, her music had touched her and the reverence in her tone was clear.

“What is it with the age 27 and musicians?” The woman’s co-host asked.  “I feel like 28th birthdays have to be a huge deal in the music world, right?”

Sam flipped off the radio, angry at the man’s flippant tone and knowing he wasn’t going to get any more information from these people.  Tears pricked in his eyes unbidden and soon enough they were spilling onto Sam’s cheeks.  Sam sat on the side of the road and cried for... he didn’t know how long.  

He’d needed to leave, needed to get out of that situation for his own health but maybe he should have stayed a little longer, fought a little harder for Y/N.  Maybe he should have dragged her away from that life.  Maybe he hadn’t loved her enough.  If he had, maybe she’d still be alive.  Finally, the ringing of his phone pulled him out of his head.  “Hello?” Sam answered, not looking at the caller id before he hit the answer button.  

“Sam Winchester, where the hell are you?”  It was Amelia and she sounded pissed.  Sam couldn’t blame her when he noticed the time.  He was an hour late for their date.  

“I’m sorry,” Sam replied, trying to keep his voice steady.  “I was on my way over and I, uh, got some bad news.  Lost track of time.”  The excuse was a weak version of the truth but how could he tell her more?  He couldn’t tell Amelia that the woman he loved, the woman he’d probably love forever, with whom he had once pictured a future was gone.  She knew he had some demons in his past but sharing this and the story that would have to go with it was too much.  

“You’re going to need to do better than that, Winchester,” Amelia retorted.

“Someone I… an old friend died,” Sam told her, his voice breaking.

Luckily, Amelia took pity on him.  “I’m so sorry, Sam.  I’m still here if you still wanted to get dinner.  Or I could get some takeout and meet you at your place,” she offered.

“I think I just need to be alone for a little bit, Amelia,” Sam replied truthfully.  “Thank you, though.”

After a brief exchange of goodbyes and a promise to reschedule, Sam was back on the road, slowly making his way toward his apartment.  He walked through the door and immediately made a beeline for his bedroom, collapsing on the bed fully clothed.  Sam took a pillow and pressed it against his face to muffle any sound as he screamed until his throat was raw and his voice was hoarse.  

When he finally pulled the pillow away, the clock on his bedside table read 10:00.  It would only be 8:00 in LA and Dean would be finished with sound check for Vessel’s show at Purgatory, a club where they would often debut new music.  When Sam had left the band, Dean and Adam had searched high and low for a replacement before stumbling across a man named Jimmy completely by accident.  He played for all three of the brothers and then Sam listened as he played with Dean and Adam.  Jimmy was a perfect fit and he was glad that Dean and Adam would get to continue doing what they loved so much.  

Tonight, however, he resented it just a little bit.  Sam needed to talk to his brother.  Dean had been the one to help him through his own addictions and was the only one Sam trusted who had any idea of what he was going through.  But Y/N had been Dean’s friend, too, and he didn’t want to bring his brother that far down right before he had to take the stage.  Sam waited until he knew the show would have started and sent Dean a text.

To: Dean Winchester

Call me as soon as the show is over.  Don’t care how late it is.

Sam knew sleep wasn’t going to come to him that night so he made his way to the living room, stopping in the kitchen to grab a few beers, and began flipping through the channel.  TNT was showing a marathon of Y/N’s favorite show.  Something about two brothers who killed the things that go bump in the night and, though he had never enjoyed the stories, Sam found himself getting sucked into the world Y/N had loved so much as tears began to leak from his eyes again.

Starry, starry night Portraits hung in empty halls Frameless heads on nameless walls With eyes that watch the world and can't forget Like the strangers that you've met The ragged men in ragged clothes The silver thorn of bloody rose Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

At Dean’s suggestion, Sam moved back to California.  Sam was pretty sure it was because Dean and Adam wanted to be able to keep a closer eye on their brother.  They knew he had still loved Y/N, despite having to leave her a year prior, and they were worried what her death might do to him or drive him to.  Sam had gone along with the plan without much resistance.  Once Amelia had seen him so broken up about an old girlfriend, she realized his heart would never be in their relationship, not fully, so there wasn’t much tying him to Lawrence.  

He started writing music again here and there but put most of his focus into trying to end the stigma that surrounded rehab.  “People should not be looked down upon for seeking help,” Sam insisted in interview after interview.  “I went to rehab, I’m not ashamed of that, and I’m a better person for having gotten the help I needed.”

Inevitably, though, the interviews would then dwell on his own drug use, some hosts and journalists going so far as to insinuate that glorifying rehabilitation programs would glorify drug use.  Those were the people that made Sam see red but he learned how to handle that line of thought with as much grace as he could muster.  “That time in my life isn’t one that I look back on fondly.  There are no happy memories associated with my addiction, if that’s what you’re implying.”  Sam would subtly call out the interviewers for their intolerance.

Sam reached out to people in the entertainment business who he knew had struggled with addiction in the past, hoping to find allies for his cause.  “More stories should end like mine, like yours,” he would tell them and, ultimately, they all agreed with that sentiment.  None of them joined his crusade, though.  For some, contracts and royalties were contingent on them not talking about their past drug use.  For others, brands had been built around their innocence and one wrong word could send that crashing down.  Sam was forced to sign more non-disclosure agreements than he could count to even get meetings with some of these people.

Sam was alone in this and, at first, he was undeterred.  He had the support of his brothers, who were willing to speak to their part in Sam’s story, and that would have to be enough to get this campaign off the ground.  Except, it wasn’t.  Sam tried to push forward.  He knew it could be successful if he could get even one person to talk about it… Eventually, however, he was just tired and beaten down.  

Y/N had been gone for three years, now, and she was all but forgotten by the general population.  Sure, some would remember her when one of her songs came on the radio but that was rare these days.  Her death had been what spurred the conversation for the first few months but now, Sam was seen as “that former addict who quit music because he couldn’t handle the pressure and now he’s got a bone to pick with the industry,” or, that’s how the news outlets were starting to describe him, anyway.  

So he stopped.  He stopped talking, stopped advocating, and, ultimately, stopped feeling.

Now I think I know What you tried to say to me How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free They did not listen they're not listening still Perhaps they never will

You watched Sam from above, watching as each person turned him away.  Sure, they were grateful for the programs that had helped them, they would tell him, but the conversation always ended the same way: “but I can’t tell anyone that.”  Though you didn’t expect anything different, it still broke your heart every time.  But Sam was resilient and tenacious.  Until he wasn’t.  

You watched as his work slowly fizzled out and Sam sank into depression.  You watched as he stopped sleeping and barely ate anything.  You watched as Dean and Adam tried to convince him to eat and then tried to bully him into it; the same with sleep.  But you could feel that Sam had no appetite and, despite his exhaustion, you could feel how sleep eluded him.  He was hospitalized; you could see how his body was shutting down and you were worried for him.

Then one day, you couldn’t feel his hunger or his weariness anymore.  Instead, there was a sense of peace and joy and those emotions comforted you.  Then there was a hand on your shoulder and you turned from your vantage point, from where you had watched Sam from heaven.

“You’re early,” you told him through tears.

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport

Mooselings: @jared-padaloveme

Pond Sam/Angst Tags: @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @loveitsallineed (@purgatoan) @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @blushingsamgirl @notnaturalanahi @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @wildfirewinchester @for-the-love-of-dean @spn-fan-girl-173 @cici0507 @fiveleaf @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @supernatural-jackles @idreamofhazel @wevegotworktodo @jpadjackles @babypieandwhiskey @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @ageekchiclife @drarina1737 @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobsessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder 

[ao3feed-castiel]

What Doesn't Kill Us

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Qe3eB6

by reigningqueenofwords

Words: 3639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 14 of Chocolate Cupcakes

Fandoms: Supernatural AU

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Reader, Castiel, Adam Milligan, Dorothy (OC)

Relationships: sam x reader, past Jess x Sam, Cas x sister!Reader, Dorothy x granddaughter!Reader

Additional Tags: talk of miscarriage

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Qe3eB6

[ao3feedsabrielnodestiel]

Blood & Iron

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uez9p0

by Angelkissesanddemonsblood

It’s been millenia since Evangeline (the reader) saw the light of day. Chained in a cave and forced to watch the demise of Sam Winchester she lives in a vicious cycle of her worst nightmare. Breaking the chains that bind her and following her gut she lands herself exactly where she always should have been, protecting the human in her charge (Sam). After recovering she sets out to right the wrongs of her people, reigniting an age old love in the process. Despite all her efforts not everything can be fixed with a little magic and dreams of white picket fences.

Words: 374, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie, Charlie Bradbury, Adam Milligan, Mary Winchester, Rowena MacLeod, Crowley (Supernatural), Assorted Angels, Chuck Shurley, Chuck (God), Original Female Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Reader, castiel x reader, Sabriel - Relationship, Gabriel & Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Gore, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, it's pretty sad, honestly these poor characters, im a terrible person, but like enjoy i guess

[ao3feed-charliebradbury]

Blood & Iron

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2m3nbeq

by Angelkissesanddemonsblood

It’s been millenia since Evangeline (the reader) saw the light of day. Chained in a cave and forced to watch the demise of Sam Winchester she lives in a vicious cycle of her worst nightmare. Breaking the chains that bind her and following her gut she lands herself exactly where she always should have been, protecting the human in her charge (Sam). After recovering she sets out to right the wrongs of her people, reigniting an age old love in the process. Despite all her efforts not everything can be fixed with a little magic and dreams of white picket fences.

Words: 374, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie, Charlie Bradbury, Adam Milligan, Mary Winchester, Rowena MacLeod, Crowley (Supernatural), Assorted Angels, Chuck Shurley, Chuck (God), Original Female Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Reader, castiel x reader, Sabriel - Relationship, Gabriel & Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Gore, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, it's pretty sad, honestly these poor characters, im a terrible person, but like enjoy i guess

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2m3nbeq

[ao3feed-crowley]

Blood & Iron

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uez9p0

by Angelkissesanddemonsblood

It’s been millenia since Evangeline (the reader) saw the light of day. Chained in a cave and forced to watch the demise of Sam Winchester she lives in a vicious cycle of her worst nightmare. Breaking the chains that bind her and following her gut she lands herself exactly where she always should have been, protecting the human in her charge (Sam). After recovering she sets out to right the wrongs of her people, reigniting an age old love in the process. Despite all her efforts not everything can be fixed with a little magic and dreams of white picket fences.

Words: 374, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie, Charlie Bradbury, Adam Milligan, Mary Winchester, Rowena MacLeod, Crowley (Supernatural), Assorted Angels, Chuck Shurley, Chuck (God), Original Female Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Reader, castiel x reader, Sabriel - Relationship, Gabriel & Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Gore, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, it's pretty sad, honestly these poor characters, im a terrible person, but like enjoy i guess

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uez9p0

[ao3feedsastiel]

Bonded Through Sin

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2lymUlQ

by FormidablePassion, HelVonAsche, mindylee, Mrs_SimonTam_PHD, when_the_day_met_the_night

Kink #1: ABO (Helfu Rules) Sam Winchester x Reader

Written by HelvonAsche

Requested by @oriona75, yeah, dis bitch asked for a lot.. and I’m gonna give it to her. Hard. <3

Helfu ABO Rules - Just some guidelines we use for ABO, explained on @helvonasche and @madamelibrarian's Tumblrs.

Words: 6743, Chapters: 18/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: Sam Winchester, Lucifer (Supernatural), Michael (Supernatural), Reader, Dean Winchester, Adam Milligan, Gabriel (Supernatural), Nick (Supernatural)

Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Michael (Supernatural), Dean Winchester/Reader, Adam Milligan/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Reader, Gabriel/Lucifer, Castiel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Nick/Lucifer, Castiel/Reader

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Denial, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Morning Sex, Knotting, murder fucking, Blood Play, Knife Play, Sibling Incest, Incest, Wincest - Freeform, Spanking, Cock Cages, Unsafe Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Injury, Angst, Exhibitionism, breath play, Choking, hypoxia, Oral Sex, Fisting, Anal Fisting, Dirty Talk, Derogatory Language, Humiliation, Breeding, Voyeurism, Teasing, Anal Fingering, Grace Kink, Body Sharing

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2lymUlQ

[hoboal87]

Don't Speak, Part 17

Pairing: implied Winchesters x F!Reader, Adam x F!Reader

Characters: Sam, F!Reader, Dean, John, Adam

Summary: The Winchesters are gone, and the reader can breathe freely, until she remembers John's orders.

Warnings: dub-con, but also, LOTS OF CONSENT, soft smut, fluff, pregnancy, drunkeness, a secret revealed?, past domestic violence, some dirty talk, minor D/s themes, MAJOR CHARACTER DEAT

Word Count: 3.1k

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

Don’t Speak Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

Part 16

The new year was a rung in with a surprisingly lavish affair. In the six months you’d been living at Winchester Manor the only visitors you’d come across were Dr. Milligan and the midwife, but that night the manor was filled with more people than you could imagine. You stood stoically at Sam’s side for the night, making only the barest of conversations with guests, too afraid to speak unless spoken to.

Once the guests have cleared, you are allowed to spend the briefest of moments alone with Claire, before the brothers pull you to your respective chambers. Sam whispers praises in your ear as he fills you to the brim, how he can’t wait to see you swell with his child.

Two days later you, Claire and the staff wave off the Winchesters, but not before John reminds you of the deal made with Dr. Milligan, and that you are to be pregnant by the time they return. You nod, and John leaves you with a soft kiss on your forehead. Neither brother makes much of a farewell to you or Claire, entering their carriage with little more than a wave.

You hadn’t realized up until that point that there was a tension filling the manor, one that was now, at least temporarily, lifted. You feel as though you can breathe easier now that you are free to do as you please, no longer having to fear the wrath of the Winchesters if you step out of bounds.

Mrs. Harvelle seems to be slightly more at ease as well, though when you ask about Joanna and her recent absence, she lets out a sad sigh. She repeats John’s words, that she had fallen ill, you want to pry further, but when you notice the sadness, you decide to respect their privacy.

You’ve almost forgotten about the deal John made with Dr. Milligan until he shows up at the manor a week after the Winchesters leave, with the midwife in tow. The midwife, whose name you learn is Dorothy, allows you to sit in on Claire’s examination, and you feel a bit embarrassed that in all the time you’ve spent with her you somehow hadn’t asked what her name was. Dorothy pushes gently on Claire’s stomach, which has already begun to swell, and asks about any symptoms, many you remember having during your own pregnancy. Dorothy pulls out a wooden device that she explains will allow her to hear the baby’s heartbeat. After spending nearly an hour with Claire, she unknowingly reiterates your fear; that Claire became pregnant around the end of October, which meant that either brother could be the father of her baby.

Dr. Milligan enters the room, calling your name with a gentility that you rarely heard from any of the Winchesters. You excuse yourself, allowing Claire to have some privacy with the midwife.

“I’d like to have another look at your wrist, Missus,” Adam says rather loudly, as if he is scared that one of the servants may accuse him of being inappropriate with you.

You lead him to your and Sam’s chambers, butterflies and nerves causing your stomach to do flips. You were going to sleep with a man who was not your husband, and you were doing so in hopes of getting pregnant. You imagine this is what Claire felt like, when you tried to explain why it was okay to fuck all three Winchesters, but this – this doesn’t feel right.

Adam walks only a few paces behind you, and waves of nerves come off of him as you open the door and enter your bedroom. You let out a deep sigh, unsure of how this was going to work; was he expecting you to make the first move? Did he want you to drop to your knees as you often do with the brothers and take him in your mouth?

“I’m not sure–” Adam lets out a breathy laugh, he’s clearly as uncomfortable with this idea as you are. “Should we– How ‘bout we talk a little? Get to know each other?” Adam offers, and you nod your head slightly, swallowing the bile beginning to rise in your throat.

“Okay,” you gesture to the two chairs in front of the fireplace, warmth radiating from it; there’s a decanter full of brown liquid. John advised you to take a few drinks to calm your nerves, you’d only drink wine when it’s given to you, and you know this is not that. With a shaky hand you pour what you assume to be whiskey into glasses and take a wary sip. The liquid burns as it travels down your throat, making you shake your head at the unfamiliar taste.

Adam tosses his drink back with a bit more conviction before pouring another sizable amount into the glass.

“This– this wasn’t my idea,” Adam remarks. “But my mother– she’s ill, and we have debts.”

“Please, Dr. Milligan, you don’t have to–”

“Adam, Missus, please.”

“Adam,” you say with a slight smile, and you take another sip from your glass. “Tell me about her– your family.”

Adam goes into some detail about his mother, and how his father had abandoned her long before he was born. She had, at one point, been a nanny for the brothers, but once she learned she was expecting she left to focus her attention on Adam. John had, for some reason, offered financial support to Adam and his mother for a number of years.

When Adam asks about how you’d met Sam, you choke back a sob, you know you can’t tell him the truth; that you were most likely sold off to the Winchesters to cover your family’s debts. You pour yourself another glass of whiskey, letting the warmth fill you before spinning a tale about falling in love with Sam while he was in London.

You’re not sure how much of your story Adam believes. If John propositioned him to guarantee that you were pregnant by the time they returned from their trip, he most likely knows that you have an unconventional relationship with the Winchester men, but Adam doesn’t question you, saving you both the embarrassment of the truth.

Two more drinks and nearly an hour later, you're feeling the effects of the whiskey; your limbs are slightly numb, and your head spins a little when you stand up. Adam seems to be in a slightly better state than you, but you can still catch the slur in his words as he adds another log to the dwindling fire.

The orange glow gives you pause as you appreciate his features. It suddenly makes sense why John would choose Adam to possibly father a child with you; he doesn’t just share Dean’s features, but Sam’s as well, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d could almost say that he was related to the Winchesters.

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly when Adam catches you mid-stare, and you can’t help the heat rising in your cheeks. “You’re very handsome,” you blurt out, the whiskey having loosened your tongue, making it nearly impossible to filter your inappropriate thoughts about the young doctor.

“You are quite stunning yourself, Y/N,” Adam walks away from the fireplace, and hovers above you. “Any man would be lucky to have you,” he leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

You moan against him, returning the kiss as he cups your face, soft and gentle kisses were not something you were used to. Adam takes his time, letting you get used to him, before tracing his tongue against your lips, you open your mouth to let him in, tasting the whiskey on his lips.

Adam doesn’t push you, letting you take the lead in every aspect. His hands don’t move until you ask him to touch you, and he slowly undresses you. You’d never known undressing to be a sensual experience, usually your clothes were quickly discarded, or the Winchesters didn’t even bother, only lifting your skirt so that they could do what they wanted.

“May I?” You ask as you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. Adam nods, and you start working on him, rubbing your hands down his smooth and taut chest as you rid him of his shirt.

Adam turns you around and begins to rid you of your underclothes, letting them fall to your feet. You’re still for a moment when his breath hitches, and you realize that your back has multiple scars from previous punishments you’ve received. You can feel his eyes on each scar, and he seems to want to ask you about them, but he knows better, and instead places a gentle kiss where each mark lays.

Adams hands snake around your body, and you can feel his growing erection pressed against your back as he asks barely above a whisper: “can I touch you?”

You nod eagerly, feeling the wetness pool between your legs, but Adam focuses on your breasts, massaging one before moving to the other. While one hand works over your breast, the other makes its way down your body. Adam’s hands are softer than Sam’s, and when he lets his fingers slide through your folds you let out a shuddering sigh.

“So wet already,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your body, “bet I could slide right in,” Adam slowly ruts against you, letting a finger tease your hole. “D’you want that?” Adam begins pumping his finger a few times before adding another, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside you. You moan in agreement, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more friction, for the orgasm he was already building, and teetering you over the edge.

Your walls tighten around Adam’s fingers, and when he swipes at your clit you let out a silent scream as the coil finally snaps, your legs giving out. Adam is the only thing keeping you partially upright. He captures your lips, and keeps his fingers in place as he lets you come down from your high.

In a move you don’t expect, Adam lifts you off your feet and carries you over to your and Sam’s bed. He lays you down gingerly and hovers over you, the warmth of his body offering a comfort that you rarely received from any of the Winchesters.

“You want me to keep going?” Adam asks, and even if you didn’t, your answer would be the same; you had to be pregnant by the time the Winchesters returned, or face the fact that they will no longer have a reason to keep you around. “We can stop, I don’t have to–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. He needed John’s money to take care of his mother, and you fear what could happen if John ever realized that you deliberately disobeyed him, and what if he told Sam, or Dean? They might hurt you, or Adam, and you couldn’t let another person get hurt because you couldn’t do as you were told. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll go slow, okay?” Adam pulls down his trousers to reveal his cock: he’s not quite as thick as Dean or long as Sam, but it’s still impressive. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and you want to taste him, but before you can tell him, he notches himself at your entrance. True to his word, Adam pushes in slowly, and you feel a delicious burn as your walls stretch around him, sucking him in as if you were made for him and him alone.

Once fully seated inside you, Adam doesn’t move, letting your body get used to the intrusion, and filling the time with soft kisses and words of praise. It’s only when you curl your legs around his waist that Adam starts to thrust. It’s not the hard and fast pace you're used to, but something much more sensual. Every move is deliberate, there’s no race to finish, no obscene noises filling the emptiness of the room, only soft moans that escape your and Adam’s lips.

One of Adam’s hands makes its way between your bodies, and he slowly starts rubbing your clit.

“Faster,” you beg, feeling the coil start to tighten, “please, Adam.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Adam stops moving, and you silently curse yourself.

“You won’t, I can take it,” you offer a coy smile. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Adam nods, and starts thrusting a little harder and faster, even then, there’s still a gentleness behind his moves. A sheen of sweat starts to form on his forehead, and you can see that he’s still holding himself back.

“I can get on top, if you like?” you offer, and in a swift move, Adam pulls out and flips the two of you over. You hover over his cock for a moment, teasing him before sinking down.

“Fuck,” he whimpers as you take him to the root. You roll your hips as you adjust to the new angle, and after a little teasing on your part, you lift your hips before slamming back down.

Your thighs are burning, and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come. Adam’s finished once inside you, letting you work him back to hardness while he licked your pussy.

It’s been three weeks since the first time you slept with Adam, and he’s finally letting himself go harder and faster with you. He’s fucking up into you, cock pistoning in and out, as he sucks on your nipples, and you bite back a moan as he hits that spot in you over and over again.

“Please,” you whine into his neck.

“Not yet, kitten,” Adam admonishes you playfully, giving you a light slap on your ass. “You’ll cum when I tell you too.”

Adam had gotten bolder over the last four weeks, but under all of that, there was still a shy boy, who wouldn’t ever dream of doing anything to hurt you. He was the exact opposite of Sam and Dean, making sure you were okay with everything before he did it, learning to play your body like a fine-tuned instrument after only a few days, and when you briefly fell ill, he didn’t pressure you, instead he offered warm snuggles, and helped you feed and bathe yourself.

It was then that he’d come up with the nickname kitten, as according to him, you curled against him, making a sound that you assumed sounded like a purr. It was a secret between the two of you, and while he’d only use it when you were in bed together, it started to feel like a code word.

“Fuck, kitten,” Adams moans as he flips you over onto your hands and knees, and entering you again. “You’re squeezing me so good, Y/N. You ready?”

You grunt out a yes, and with a handful of thrusts and Adams thumb swiping at your clit, you cum hard around him, your orgasm triggering his own, painting your insides with his seed. The two of you collapse onto the bed, Adam holding you tight in his arms, before pulling his softening cock out of you.

You know you’re starting to develop feelings for the young doctor, which only brings a new set of problems, least of all being that you’re married, and that you’re expected to give Sam an heir. You’ve yet to disclose your true relationship with the Winchesters, though you're sure Adam has put some of it together by now. You figure that this will be the last time with Adam, the last chance to conceive a child before they arrive home, as they are returning almost a month sooner than anticipated. You hope that you’ll be able to tell Sam that you’re going to be giving him a child.

Adam has spent nearly every day with you at the manor, doing as John ordered: splitting his time between you and Claire, ensuring that her pregnancy stays on track. When he leaves you to do his daily check up with Claire, you feel a turning in your belly, and with barely enough time you empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

"How long have you been feeling this way, kitten?" Adam pushes your slightly sticky hair away from your face, and you give him a pained smile.

"It's nothing," you try to downplay it, not wanting to ruin your last day with him. "I'm fine."

"Kitten," Adam lowers his voice, authority dripping off his words. "I need you to tell me the truth."

"A few weeks," you admit, "ever since I was ill, I don't think I ever fully felt better."

"When did you last bleed, Y/N?"

"I'm not sure," you answer honestly, having to rack your brain. "A month?”

“We can have the midwife confirm it when she performs her next check on Claire, but I believe you’re pregnant.”

“I am?” You ask with a naivete that brings a small smile to Adam’s face. You cup your belly, elation filling you knowing that you’ve fulfilled your wifely duties to Sam and Dean.

Dorothy visits before the Winchesters are due to arrive home, confirming your pregnancy. Claire offers congratulations when you tell her, and you decide not to tell her that Adam, as far as you know, not one of the Winchesters, is the one who fathered your baby.

You and Claire are given clean bills of health by both Adam and Dorothy, and you prepare for the arrival of your husbands, eager to tell them your good news. Before Adam and Dorothy leave, you notice Ellen pulling her aside, and there are hushed whispers between them. You hadn’t seen Joanna in months, and when you ask about her, Ellen only tells you that Joanna won’t be returning to the manor for some time.

Bobby leaves to meet the Winchesters at the train station near midday, and less than an hour later you, Claire, Ellen and all the servants are outside the manor, waiting to greet the masters of the house. When the carriage arrives, you wait with baited breath to see the men, excited to tell them your good news.

Sam and Dean exit the carriage, looking more worn than usual, with a sadness behind their eyes you don’t quite understand. Dean’s holding a black box in his hands, something you know they didn’t leave with.

You wait patiently for John to appear, but no one else exits the carriage. The next minutes are a blur, and your knees give out from under you when through the fogginess you hear the words: “father’s dead.”

Part 18

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[ao3feed-wayward]

Returning the Favor

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2TVcptY

by reigningqueenofwords

Words: 1698, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adam Milligan, Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Relationships: Adam x Reader - Relationship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2TVcptY

[ao3feed-wayward]

Ramen

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2WndHL0

by reigningqueenofwords

Words: 697, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of When Hate Turns to Love

Fandoms: Supernatural, Supernatural AU

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adam Milligan, Reader, Sam Winchester

Relationships: Adam x Reader - Relationship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2WndHL0

[ao3feed-wayward]

Chicken Noodle Soup

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HEHPhN

by reigningqueenofwords

Words: 331, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of When Hate Turns to Love

Fandoms: Supernatural, Supernatural AU

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adam Milligan, Reader

Relationships: Adam x Reader - Relationship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HEHPhN

[ao3feed-castiel]

Mistrust and Broken Hearts

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HXotCx

by reigningqueenofwords

Words: 2901, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 13 of Chocolate Cupcakes

Fandoms: Supernatural AU

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Adam Milligan, Sam Winchester, Reader, Castiel, Jessica Moore

Relationships: past Jess x Sam, sam x reader, Cas x sister!Reader

Additional Tags: Miscarriage

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HXotCx