#Lawrence Baker x Reader

[deepspacedukat]

The Baker's Baker - Part One

So, this is the fic I made the poll about. 75% of you said you were at least open to other David Birney characters depending on the character, so here it is. I honestly have no excuse. David Birney played a hot character in "Murder, She Wrote" and I have caught the brainrot. Spoilers for S10E3 "The Legacy of Borbey House." I know I changed part of the story, but it doesn't stray too far from the original, hence the spoiler warning. I'm not tagging anyone for this fic, because, even though some Letant Enjoyers might like this, I don't think anyone came to my blog for MSW fanfiction lol. To those who choose to give this little brainworm a read, I hope you enjoy.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Lawrence Baker (MSW) x Reader

[A/N: Future chapters will contain smut/smut adjacent content, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mild rudeness, flirtation, mention of a missing person per the episode plot, vampire rumors, utilizing cupcakes for flirtation, readers owns and works in a bakery, reader has history with Borbey House but that'll be expounded upon in a later chapter.

~*~

Cabot Cove was rife with rumors surrounding the property across the street from my front door. Borbey House had stood empty for a year and a half - some residents wondered if anyone would ever buy the place until a couple of weeks ago. I only caught a glimpse of my new neighbor as I was getting home one night. Dark hair, a darker suit, and the jaunty strut of a man who was utterly confident in himself - whoever he was, the new owner of the Borbey Estate was much flashier than the usual Cabot Cove crowd.

I only saw him once, though, along with a couple of curtain twitches from one of the upper windows. Any other time a person emerged from the house, it was without fail a harsh looking man with a square jaw. He and his employer both seemed rather ominous to anyone who believed in superstition, and the Borbey legacy was already saturated with those. All the mysterious deaths years ago...it was a wonder that anyone was interested in buying the place when it went on the market.

Legend had it that the original owner, William Borbey, had been a vampire, and given the new owner's tendency to avoid going out in the daylight coupled with how quickly gossip of any sort traveled through Cabot Cove, rumors about his condition spread rather rapidly. I couldn't really blame the man for not wanting to immerse himself in the insanity that was a small town like this. I had hoped I'd catch another glimpse of him eventually, but after that first sighting, all I saw was his - was the man with a square jaw a butler or a chauffeur? Both, perhaps?

This morning, however, my luck changed - for better or worse, I couldn't definitively say. It wasn't often that our postman switched mail around, but today I'd opened my mailbox to find a letter addressed to one 'Mr. Lawrence Baker.' Glancing at the address confirmed my suspicions: this belonged across the street.

With barely a moment's thought, I hurried back into my house and dropped off my own mail, scooping up a box of assorted cookies I'd packaged in advance for the bakery in the process. There were plenty more where that came from, so I figured it couldn't hurt to give Cabot Cove's newest resident a warm welcome.

Straightening myself up a bit, I grabbed the misdelivered letter and the box of cookies and walked across the street. Before I even got the chance to knock on the door, however, it was practically flung open. Mr. Baker's butler scowled silently, expectantly down at me with cold, hard eyes.

"Uh, hi! I–"

"Do you have an appointment?" His question was clipped and rough. Was that a German accent? Interesting.

"No, but–"

"Then begone." With that, the door was slammed in my face.

Oh, hell no. Tall and scary that man might be, but I wasn't about to just let someone treat me like that.

I was secretly quite proud of the firm, confident sound of my knuckles rapping on the aged wooden door. Once more, it was thrown open, but before Mr. Scary got the chance to do something more drastic than slamming the door in my face, I held up the letter so he could see the typeface on the envelope.

"This was delivered to me by mistake this morning. I was just coming over here to give it to its proper owner." After a tense moment of silence, the letter was snatched from my hand. "And these are from me. I run the bakery on Main Street and I wanted to officially welcome Mr. Baker to the neighborhood."

Shoving the box into the stunned butler's grasp, I turned on my heel and started back to my house, standing as straight as possible to cling to my remaining dignity. Well, that had been slightly more humiliating than I'd expected. So much for being neighborly–

"Excuse me, miss?" A smooth, sophisticated voice called out from behind me before I was more than a few feet down the front walkway. Looking back, I saw a familiar dark-haired figure stepping around the gruff-mannered butler to stand in the doorway. Red-lensed sunglasses rested atop the bridge of his nose, but it was still undeniably the same man I'd seen that first night. Lawrence Baker, in the flesh. Up close, he looked...well, extremely handsome. "I'm sorry for the rough reception. Peter is used to dealing with less pleasant visitors. I'm afraid most people don't like an outsider invading your peaceful community."

Taking a few small steps toward the door, I gave my elusive new neighbor a tentative smile and attempted to ignore the way his pale blue button-down shirt clung to his figure so perfectly.

"It's alright, but I promise not all of us are quite so prickly. I'm sorry if you've been on the receiving end of any sort of intolerance," I said, and he leaned jauntily on the door frame as a grin stretched his lips. The lines on either side of his mouth spoke of the many smiles he'd worn over the years. "Anyway, I should really let you get back to your day. I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. If you need anything, I live just across the street."

"I'll be sure and keep that in mind, Miss...?"

I introduced myself, keeping a respectable distance between myself and the front door. The longer I looked at Mr. Baker, the more I wanted to do something ridiculous, like take up sketching just so I could capture the shape of his lips when he smiled.

"I couldn't help but hear what you said a moment ago. You run the local bakery?"

"Yes, I do. If there's something you'd like that I don't normally offer, I take custom orders." My brain went somewhere it definitely shouldn't have, and I fought to keep myself from blushing.

Instead, though, I had some restraint. Excusing myself, I retreated quickly back to my own home. I took a seat in the kitchen and glanced at the timer I'd set for the cake in the oven. There was still a while until I needed to check it.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting at my kitchen table lost in thought when a knock sounded at the door, jolting me back to reality. A brief flash of fear zipped through me at the prospect of Mr. Baker or his butler - somehow the name 'Peter' didn't fully encompass that man's personality - coming to throw my cookies back in my face and threaten legal action if I ever set foot on their side of the street again.

"Why, you look as pale as a ghost, child!" Seth exclaimed when I opened the door. I'd almost forgotten that he and Jessica were coming over for lunch today. Inviting them in gratefully, I stole a quick glance across the street and was just in time to see a curtain twitch in one of the upper windows of the Borbey House.

There was nothing I could do but close the door as if to block out the storm that was my neighbor's red-tinted gaze.

"Are you alright?" Jessica's hand rested gently on my shoulder, and I gave her a grateful smile.

"Oh, yes! I'm fine. I just had a very odd encounter with the new owner of the Borbey place," I told her as we all made our way into the kitchen. A couple of hours passed, and with lunch consumed and my new cake recipe freshly sampled by the three of us, I'd heard several bits of gossip about Mr. Baker and his butler.

"You say he had red lenses in his glasses?" Seth asked as he cut himself another slice of cake. When I nodded my head, he hummed thoughtfully. "Those have a few uses medicinally, dependin' on the shade. He could be sensitive to light. Until he comes into my office, though, I'm afraid that's all I can say."

With a wry smile, Mrs. Fletcher leaned back in her seat.

"I doubt that will do anything to dispel those ridiculous vampire stories that have been making the rounds, lately." She was right, of course. "Be careful, dear, you might find him knocking on your door one night in search of something more than just cookies."

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I felt suddenly better than I had all morning. Trust Jessica and Seth to know how to lift my spirits.

"I'll be sure to wear a garlic necklace and keep a stake handy," I joked. Allowing my smile to fall in favor of something more serious, I switched topics. "Any news about...?"

Jessica and Seth glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"You'd be one of the first to know. The last tip-off the Sheriff had was a dud. Lady was in her fifties. Definitely not Laurel Perrin," Seth murmured setting his fork down. Had he already eaten his second piece of cake? Mentally, I marked that recipe down as a success. I'd have to make one or two for the bakery this week to see how people reacted to it. "I...I know you were her friend, and I don't mean to sound disheartenin', but the chances of Laurel turnin' up after all this time..."

The doctor laid his hand over mine where it rested on the table, and I looked pointedly down at the wood grain beside my fingers.

"I know, Doc. I just...I can't give up hope. Neither can Dave or Charlie. Not until we know for sure, one way or the other. You can understand that, right?"

"Of course, we can. Closure is a somewhat universal longing, especially for those closely involved in situations like this," Jessica murmured wrapping her arm around my shoulders in a reassuring hug. "Now, why don't you tell us how the new space for the bakery is working out?"

Never had I been more grateful for a change of subject.

--

Six days later, I was in the middle of serving who I thought would be my last customer of the night when the bell over the bakery door jingled.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," I called over my shoulder as I boxed up a dozen brownies.

"No problem, take your time." I blinked a couple of times as I finished up. I knew that voice. Forcing myself to stay focused on my current task, I served my regular customer and handed him his change.

"Thanks, Jim. Have a safe drive home, okay?"

"'Course, ma'am, and I'll be sure and tell the wife you asked after her," he said tipping his hat as he turned to leave. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as I turned to the new arrival.

"How can I help you tonight, Mr. Baker?" The man in question was clad in a crisp, black suit that was probably worth more than my entire inventory, but the smile on his face softened his visage into something more personable.

And his eyes! I hadn't been able to see them properly when they were hidden behind his tinted glasses, but they were the clearest blue I'd ever seen.

"Would you prefer the socially acceptable answer, or the truth?"

Oh, color me intrigued! Clasping my hands and resting them on the counter, I narrowed my eyes at him playfully.

"Hm. Let's have the truth first, then the respectable excuse," I murmured, and he stepped up to the counter, tracing his fingertips over the refrigerated cases as he moved closer.

"Alright. I was fascinated by you the moment I saw you walking up the drive. The way you handled Peter's abrupt dismissal made me realize I'd made a mistake in avoiding contact with my neighbors," he said leaning one forearm on the counter. "I wanted a chance to see you again...to talk to you longer than just a few seconds, and this seemed like my best bet. In my defense, I had no idea that I'd have such a gorgeous neighbor."

I forced the muscles in my face to remain neutral. No smiling, not yet. I had to be casual. If I let myself smile now, I might explode.

"And the respectable excuse?"

"Ah, that. Well, I heard about the special you were having on cupcake orders and thought I'd come take advantage of the discount," Mr. Baker said with a smile, and I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh. "What?"

Crooking my finger at him, I coaxed him into leaning close enough to whisper in his ear, trying to add to his anticipation.

"The special is on brownies today, not cupcakes."

A warm, velvety laugh spilled from his lips as he leaned back again.

"Oh, damn, there goes my airtight alibi," he mused when his eyes met mine once more. "I guess that blows my chances of you accepting my invitation to dinner..."

I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Dinner?"

"Yes, but I doubt you'd be interested in socializing with a man who can't even get his excuses in order beforehand," he teased. Giving me a shrug and turning to a cloche-covered tray of brightly-iced cupcakes, he pretended to study them as I forced my brain into gear.

"...What day did you have in mind?"

The wide grin he gave me lit up the whole shop.

"How about tomorrow night? From what I understand, your shop is closed on Sundays, isn't it?"

"That's right. Sure, why not? Tomorrow sounds great," I answered lifting the cloche off the cupcake tray. "In the meantime, if we're going to sell that poorly-constructed cupcake excuse, you can't leave here empty-handed."

"Ah, thank you. We wouldn't want the rest of the town to think you were in danger from a reclusive vampire," he muttered with a gleam in his eye as I boxed up an assorted half dozen cupcakes. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing at all. These are on the house."

His eyes went wide, and he placed one of his large hands gently on my arm.

"I didn't come here to swindle you out of your merchandise. I don't want you to think I can't afford a few baked goods."

"This has nothing to do with your ability to pay, Mr. Baker. Haven't you ever had someone do something nice for you before, just because they could?"

Something like comprehension flickered across his face.

"Not...in a very long time, no," he said just above a whisper, looking at me as though I'd transformed right before his eyes. Placing one of my hands over his where it still rested on my arm, I spoke just as quietly.

"Then it's about time someone did." A moment's weighted silence passed between us before I got back to the cupcakes, closing the box and sealing it with one of my labels. "There you are. And if you really want to do something to repay me, tell me this: what's your favorite dessert?"

He was silent for a moment while he considered his answer, but ultimately he shook his head.

"I'll have to think that over. It's serious business deciding something like this," Lawrence said with a faux stern expression plastered on his face.

"Oh, naturally. You can tell me over dinner, assuming you've selected by then," I said with an equally stern expression, but when a bright smile broke across Mr. Baker's lips, I cracked and let out a quick laugh.

"I look forward to your charming company tomorrow night, my dear," he said, and without a moment's hesitation, he caught one of my hands in his grasp and brought it to his lips. My heart fluttered in my chest, the traitorous bastard, and before I knew it, Mr. Baker had taken his box of cupcakes and left.

Resisting the urge to squeal or smile so hard that my face broke, I went to the door and flipped the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed.'

When I got home that night and exited my car, I glanced across the street. Instead of the usual twitching curtain, I was just in time to see both Peter and Mr. Baker in the latter's sitting room, nibbling on what were unmistakably a pair of my cupcakes.

If I'd been any happier, I might have floated away like a balloon.

--

"You're having dinner with the man? But neither you nor anyone else in town knows him very well," Doc Hazlitt protested the next morning as I chatted with him over the phone. He'd called to ask what day that new cake would be added to the bakery's menu so he could give me some extra patronage. Once I assured him it would be a Tuesday addition, he moved on to a rumor he'd heard about Lawrence Baker kissing my hand during business hours and leaving my shop with a box of desserts. I hadn't disabused him of the notion, hence his current state of agitation.

"Doc, I am perfectly capable of handling a simple dinner. I'm not a little girl anymore," I said, and a sigh crackled down the line.

"I know, I know, but I don't want you to get hurt. I was the doc in the ward when you were born, and I've known you all your life. Is it any wonder that I feel a little nervous about you gettin' involved with a man who's only been in Cabot Cove for a handful of weeks?"

"Y'know, that's another thing, Seth," I started as I cradled the phone to my shoulder and slipped a tray of scones into the oven. "People around here act as though every new arrival or outsider is here to pillage the town. Why can't someone move in and be given the benefit of the doubt for once? Mr. Baker is perfectly friendly–"

"–And rich, to boot, meanin' he is used to gettin' exactly what he wants–"

"That's enough, Doctor. You haven't even met the man. You have no right to judge him until you've at least tried to get to know him." I didn't even try to keep the reproachful edge out of my voice. "Please, at least try to be open minded. If not for his sake, then for mine."

"I'd still be grateful if you gave me a call tomorrow morning so that I know you survived the ordeal," he requested, and after a quick agreement, he finally let me go.

Seth was right to an extent. I barely knew him, and Borbey house, despite my personal history, was still surrounded by gruesome stories and the ghosts of its past. It wouldn't hurt to be a little cautious.

Although, a benefit of spending time across the street was that I'd have a chance to change that surly butler's opinion of me. That was something I definitely needed to do, especially if I was going to be acquainted with his employer. Maybe with the right dessert, I could lower his defenses enough to show him I wasn't just a pest to be swept out onto the street.

~*~*~

[dolene]

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[cyber-dump-171]

Prologue: Distress Call

The End is Near (Gravity Falls x Reader)

Masterlist | Chapter 1 →

Word count: 1.2 k.

WARNING: Violence, monsters and blood.

Note: thank you for stopping by and reading! Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! For those who come from my profile and are waiting for Chapter 6 of OSYGM, it's on its way!

══════════════════

ROADKILL COUNTY SHERIFF'S OFFICE

Transcript of 911 distress call

10/2/1980 - 1:13 A.M.

────────────────────────

RW: Rita Woorley, Dispatcher.

CS: Caroline Simmons, Victim.

JS: Jeremy Simmons, Victim (?).

────────────────────────

RW: 911, where’s your emergency?

CS: *heavy breathing* *clothing shifting* *distant objects clattering*

RW: Hello? Is anyone there?

CS: *heavy breathing* *distant clatter*

RW: *sighs* For God’s sake, these kids and their pranks.

CS: Please… help me…

RW: Hello? Ma’am, what’s the address of your emergency?

CS: Trantow Fields, house 131 in Gravity Falls. I’m Caroline Simmons and I-I need police here… Just, please, hurry. *distant door banging* 

RW: *typing* Alright, and what’s the emergency?

CS: *rapid breathing* It’s my husband… I don’t know what’s happening… Oh God- *distant clatter* *a male voice screaming*

RW: Police are on their way, ma’am. Tell me what’s happening.

CS: I-I don’t know… he’s gone insane… he was fine this mornin’, s-sick with a bug but he was his chipper self. But-

JS: *distant shout* CAROLINE! LET ME OUT, SWEETIE!

RW: Ma’am, are you in a safe place?

CS: *hyperventilating* Y-Yes! I barricaded the bedroom, where he’s at… *heavy breathing* I-I locked myself in the kitchen. *crying*

RW: Ok. Take a deep breath, ma’am. Police are around five minutes away from where you are. Keep walking me through what happened. 

CS: *heavy breathing* S-Sorry… I… I woke up to him holding a knife… h-he… he… *distant hurried banging* he tried to stab me… H-He had crazy eyes… his mouth was bleedin’, I think he bit his lip too hard… *loud crash*

RW: Ma’am?

JS:  CAROLINE! *door falling* *distant hurried footsteps*

CS: Oh my God… h-he broke the door… HE BROKE THE DOOR! SOMEBODY! SAVE ME!

RW: Ma’am, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath. Is your husband still armed?

CS: No… I took the knife from him. Oh my God… what happened to my Jeremy? *crying*

RW: Ma’am, take a deep breath. Police are close.

CS: *whispering* *hyperventilating* I think he’s downstairs… I-I can hear him… *footsteps grow louder*

RW: Ma’am, remain calm.

CS: *heavy breathing* *loud distant footsteps*

CS: *soft knocking* *muffled bizarre breathing*

JS: Caroline? Honey, it’s me… There’s something wrong… I don’t know what’s happening to me…

CS: *crying* Jeremy… Please don’t hurt me…

JS: Sweetie, I need you to open the door, please…

RW: Ma’am, do not open the door. Police are close.

CS: *hysterical crying* YOU’RE NOT MY JEREMY!

JS: Caroline, I know you’re scared, but please, I need you to open the door. 

CS: *hysterical crying*

JS: Darling? Do you remember our wedding vows where I promised to always protect you?

CS: *crying* Y-Yes, I-I remember.

JS: I can’t protect you if the door’s closed… So please, open it. I want to see you.

CS: *sniffling* *heavy breathing* *phone clatters on the floor*

RW: Ma’am, do not open the door… Hello?

CS: Please… Jeremy, love, don’t hurt me. *kitchen door opens*

JS: I’m so sorry for scaring you, darling. *distorted breathing*

CS: …

RW: Ma’am? Are you there? Hello?

*Call is abruptly disconnected*

══════════════════

ROADKILL COUNTY SHERIFF'S OFFICE

Transcript of 911 distress call

10/2/1980 - 1:27 A.M.

────────────────────────

EK: Elmer Kain, Dispatcher.

DM: Dylan Moss, Victim.

LW: Lawrence Woodworth, Victim.

KB: Kyle Baker, Victim.

UM: Unidentified Male.

────────────────────────

EK: 911, what’s your emergency?

DM: HOLY SHIT! FINALLY! WE NEED AN AMBULANCE! HURRY!

EK: Sir, remain calm, what’s your location?

DM: W-W-We are at a… *heavy breathing* fuck, sorry, at Gravity Falls High School! Please hurry, somebody’s bleeding to death!

LW: *distant* Kyle, do not fall asleep!

EK: *typing*  An ambulance is on its way. Walk me through what’s happening.

DM: W-We were working on a f-final project and was g-getting late so we went to drop our friend Kyle at his house! B-But this fucking thing... it just- *crying*

LW: *distant* S-Something came out of the forest and tore K-Kyle’s stomach out!

EK: Were you able to catch sight of what it was?

DM: *crying* We don’t know! I-It was too f-fucking dark… I… we… I’m so fucking scared!

LW: *distant* I-It looked human, but it… it wasn’t human? I-I don’t know! It had huge claws!

KB: *coughing* * groaning in pain*

EK: What’s the current state of your friend?

DM: *crying* H-He’s breathing but his stomach is just… gone… it’s like a… *retches*... pile of mush o-on the floor. *retches*

EK: Take a deep breath… are you applying pressure to the wound?

DM: *crying* I-I’m so scared…

LW: *distant* W-We are! We tied m-my hoodie and I-Im’ pressing on it but he’s getting paler!

KB: *coughing* I want my mom…

DM: *crying* H-Hold on, man. H-Help is on the way…

EK: The ambulance is five minutes away, keep applying pressure. Do not hang up the phone.

DM: *branches and leaves snapping* *distant footsteps* … what the fuck?

LW: *distant* DYLAN! LOOK AT THE FUCKING FOREST!

DM: … Kyle? But… he’s right here… what?

EK: What’s happening?

KB: *distant coughing* *crying* Mom…

LW: *distant* GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM US!

EK: Hello? What’s going on?

DM: *distant footsteps* Holy shit… it’s… I… it’s Kyle, but… Kyle’s also… bleeding on the floor.

EK: What? I don’t quite understand.

UM: *distorted crying* Mom…

LW: *distant* FUCK! WHAT DO WE DO!?

DM: I DON’T KNOW! HELP… PLEASE!

UM: *distorted crying* I want my mom…

EK: What’s happening? Dylan?

DM: *incoherent screams* *distorted roar*

*Call is abruptly disconnected*

══════════════════

ROADKILL COUNTY SHERIFF'S OFFICE

Transcript of 911 distress call

10/2/1980 - 1:33 A.M.

────────────────────────

KJ: Keneth Jarvis, Dispatcher.

TB: Tabitha Roberts, Victim.

UF: Unidentified Female.

────────────────────────

KJ: 911, where’s your emergency?

TB: *distant glass tapping* Hello? My name is Tabitha Roberts, I live on Oakley Road, house 28 in Gravity Falls. I need the cops.

KJ: Alright miss, what’s the emergency?

TB: *distant glass tapping* Someone… no, scratch that, something is trying to break into my house.

KJ: *typing* Uh, sorry… I’m a bit confused by your statement. “Something” is trying to break in?

TB: *distant glass tapping* I… I just don’t even know how to describe it. I got home from work about twenty minutes ago when I heard something banging on my backyard door.

KJ: Uh-huh.

TB: *distant glass tapping* I opened the curtains and… well… you’re definitely not going to believe this but… something that looks like me is trying to smash the glass and come in.

KJ: … Pardon?

TB: *distant glass tapping* I know it sounds insane but you have to believe! The weird part is that it looks like me but at the same time, there’s something wrong… I can’t place it… I think it’s the eyes… the skin looks loose…

KJ: Uh… O-Ok miss, a unit has been dispatched to your place, please stay on the line. Are you in a safe place?

TB: *distant glass tapping* No, I’m in the living room, it’s the only place where I have a landline. I’m staring at the… thing… Jesus Christ, it doesn’t even fucking blink!

TB: *distant glass banging* *sound of glass cracking* Oh God… the glass… it has a crack…

KJ: Miss? 

TB: *distant glass banging*  FUCK! IT’S BREAKING THE GLASS! 

KJ: Miss, remain calm. Do you have a place where you can hide?

TB: *glass breaks* FUCK! HELP ME! PLEASE! IT’S COMING AT ME!

KJ: Miss, find a place to hide, police are on their way.

TB: *incoherent screams* *glass and furniture breaking* GET OFF ME!

KJ: Miss, what’s going on?

TB: *something is smashed against the ground* …

KJ: Miss Tabitha? Is everything alright?

TB: … *footsteps*

KJ: Hello? Miss Tabitha?

UF: *distorted* Hello? My name is Tabitha Roberts, I live on Oakley Road, house 28 in Gravity Falls. I need the cops.

*Call is abruptly disconnected*

══════════════════

Tag list:

@rotknox

[satelitis]

˗ˏˋ 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍’𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘 ´ˎ˗

୭- 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐘 : standard tumblr games (cym, whos most likely, kmk etc,etc.)

🕸- 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 : send me a trope and a character and i will make headcanons about it. (drummer!butch jojo, baker!peter parker)

⋆-𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 : matchups!! send me a short desc. of yourself and i will match you up with someone (please include fandom and gender preference)

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🕸- 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 : give me a specific mood/ vibe/pastime and i will give you a movie, song and book rec!

⋆- 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 : your turn!! tell me who you ship me with!! you can write little headcanons or thoughts <33 (please do this one if you do ilysm!!)

DISCLAIMER!! : please only stick to one request per ask! and only the fandoms i write for!! keep the reqs sfw!! I AM A MINOR!!! also if a character is canonically lesbian or gay then only req for that gender specific reader please (no robin buckley x male reader)!!! this event is running from 1/07-1/31 !! have fun loves!!

TAGGING MOOTIES!! : @mictodii @spaceagebachelormann @dizzyntrr @juneberrie @solutopia @spiderst4rgirl @spiderfunkz @stvrlighttgabss @isitoversnowtvs @jaidens @dljcem @doyouknowwhoyouare13

CHARACTERS I'M WRITING FOR : tasm! peter parker , miguel diaz, johnny lawrence, daniel larusso, anthony larusso, hawk mozkowitz, robby keene, tori nichols, dallas winston, ponyboy curtis, steve randal, two-bit matthews, darry curtis, johnny cade, sodapop curtis, butch jojo, brick jojo, boomer jojo, sirius black, regulus black, james potter, remus lupin, marlene mckinnon, ron weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, cedric diggory, harry potter, hermione granger, luna lovegood, ginny weasley, lee jordan, bradley bradshaw, nick bradshaw, pete mitchell, tom kazenzky, anakin skywalker, luke skywalker, leia skywalker, han solo, richie tozier, stanley uris, eddie kaspberak, beverly marsh, ben hascom, mike hanlon, bill denbrough, mike wheeler, eddie munson, robin buckley, steve harrington, max mayfield, lucas sinclair, richie white, john b routledge, jj maybank, sarah cameron, kiera carerra, pope hayward. ask if a character you would like isn't on this list!!

[imagineteamfreewill]

Crowned

Title: Crowned

Pairing: Prince!Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Whipping, brief language, slight angst, mostly fluff

Square Filled: Secret Relationship

Summary: Y/N is a castle kitchen maid in Lawrence, where Prince Samuel is scheduled to ascend to the throne on Christmas Eve. The extra work takes a heavy toll on her, but there’s something—or someone—else making it an even more eventful season for her.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo​). As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and supporting me in so many ways. I hope everyone has a safe, happy, and healthy holiday season with their loved ones! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

The village always bustled with activity as you neared the winter solstice, but this year even more so. The prince’s coronation was scheduled for Christmas Eve, which meant in addition to the usual preparations, everyone was getting ready for what was promised to be the grandest event the castle had ever had. Even you were mildly excited for what was to come, and normally you hated your job in the kitchens. 

“Y/N! Where did you put those eggs, girl?”

You sighed as you kneaded the dough on the table in front of you. The head baker had given you the task of making the braided loaves for the castle’s coronation feast. They were one of the traditional dishes that the prince had requested, so they had to be perfect. You’d been mixing, kneading, braiding, and baking from sunup to sundown most days, and when you weren’t working by the ovens, you were out gathering more supplies. She’d sent you to get eggs from Farmer Mills that morning and for milk from Farmer Singer the morning prior. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you worked, it never seemed to be enough. It felt like she’d been harping on you and critiquing your baking every second of every day. You were deciding between throwing something at her or crying. Maybe both.

“They’re with the butter, ma’am,” you called back, holding in the retort you wanted to tack onto the end. Her shrill voice was like a knife and you’d been on the verge of a blinding headache for three hours now. It wouldn’t be long before you’d need to beg her to send you home to rest. She probably wouldn’t agree.

“Are you daft? Come here!”

You winced, pausing mid-knead. That wasn’t a good sign. Slowly, you wiped your hands on the apron tied over your shift and made your way around the other long table. The head baker was in the back room, and as you passed by the other kitchen girls, they all gave you pitying looks of various degrees. You were the newest in the castle, having just started a few months ago after seeking refuge from a neighboring kingdom, which meant you got the brunt of all her anger and stress. Unfortunately for you, her anger and stress were at an all-time high given the upcoming feasts.

“Ma’am?” you asked, standing in the doorway to the makeshift storeroom.

“Come here,” she ordered, and you obediently stepped closer. “Where are the eggs?”

Turning towards where you’d set down the basket, you said, “They are—” You stopped mid-sentence. The basket had disappeared, as had the eggs. “They were there, Ma’am, I promise you. I put them next to the butter as soon as I got back.”

“Well, they’re not there now, wench, so what will you do now?”

You swallowed thickly, tears welling in your eyes. You’d be punished for this. “I’ll go to Farmer Mills’ straightway and fetch more, ma’am.”

“That’ll be comin’ out of your pay. Give me your hand.”

The head baker reached for her whip and struck it across your knuckles as soon as you’d extended your arm. Knowing better than to cry out, you bit down on your tongue and squeezed your eyes shut right as the whip lashed across the back of your hand again. Your skin felt warm where the blood welled up.

Three more lashes and you were free. You darted out of the storeroom and grabbed your cloak from the peg on the wall, wrapping it around your shoulders as quickly as you could. One of the other kitchen girls, Anna, was waiting for you by the door. She wrapped a clean cloth around your hand without a word, then slipped a few coins into the pocket of your apron. When you opened your mouth to protest, she shook her head and gently nudged you out of the kitchen and into the bitter cold.

You took the shortest route from the castle to the farm on the edge of the castle village. Jody’s family had farmed the land for decades. The land had been in her husband’s family since he was a young boy, and you’d become friends with her shortly after they’d married. She was kind and she always made sure you had the best. You hoped now that your friendship would help you procure the eggs you needed during the busiest time of year.

The streets were fairly empty for noontime, but you stuck to the edges of the paths, leaving room for the tradesmen and their wives, the knights, and the ladies that milled about, looking for someone upon which to bestow their Christmas generosity. Boughs of holly decorated the windows and their sills, and the red berries stuck amongst them added festive cheer to the otherwise dreary winter. Candles were already burning in the windows in an attempt to ward off the gray-tinged darkness that threatened each precious minute of daylight until the solstice. The coming winter promised to be a harsh one, but the hope of the evergreens loosened the tight knot of fear in your chest. Christmas was coming, and with it there would be rest and time for celebrations of your own. You’d never attended a servant’s dinner, and Sam would be a king. You knew that to be intimately true, more so than most, especially in the depths of the kitchens.

“My lady?”

A hand on your arm made you turn, and you almost stumbled when you met familiar eyes.

“Samuel,” you murmured, immediately smiling wide. Your cheeks felt warm even despite the cold and you glanced around, hoping no one would notice you talking to him.

He was dressed plainly, in a gray wool cloak drawn up over his head and tied securely around his shoulders, a long brown tunic that you were certain you’d seen before in the squire’s closet, and a pair of leather boots. Sam looked every part a common man, and your heart swelled with giddiness.

“What are you doing here? Someone could see you!” you whispered, though you couldn’t stop smiling. You pulled him under the eaves of a cobbler’s shop, out of the snow and away from prying eyes. The cobbler was deaf, and after you acknowledged him with a polite wave, he went back to his work.

“I was tending to my horse when I saw you leave. I have something for you,” Sam replied. He smiled down at you, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. A thrill went through you when his hands brushed yours as he placed a parchment-wrapped bundle into your hands. He didn’t seem to notice your bandage, nor did he see the blood that had soaked through it.

“I don’t have anything for you.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Open it.”

Hesitant, you began to carefully unwrap the brown parchment. It fell to the ground and was instantly soaked with snow, but you could only gasp and marvel at the fabric in your hands. The dress shimmered in the winter sun, sparkling as the weak light hit it. You’d never seen something so beautiful, and you’d certainly never owned anything like it. The fabric felt lighter than air and as you ran your fingers over it, you held your breath, just in case you might blow it away. Certainly, none of the other kitchen maids or servant girls owned something like this. Not even the finest lady in all of Lawrence owned a dress as beautiful. You weren’t even sure if the royals in your home country had even seen something so fine.

“Samuel,” you finally murmured, and you regarded him with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can, my love.”

His words warmed you from the inside out and you ducked your head, hiding the bashful smile he always pulled from you. “I have no place to wear a dress like this, and Ma’am will surely find out…”

“Come to my coronation.”

Your head snapped up and the smile fell at the seriousness of his request. “What?”

“Come to my coronation,” he repeated. Sam reached out and brushed hair behind your ear. His touch was warm, a welcome relief from the winter chill, but you were too shocked to register it.

“I can’t,” you told him. “It’s not proper for a kitchen maid to attend a royal event of any kind. It’s forbidden. If I did, Ma’am would—”

“It’s my coronation. Nothing is forbidden if I say it isn’t, and I want you there.”

You looked away and stared at the feet of the horses as several knights rode by. Their hooves kicked up dirty slush and pebbles, spewing them over your shoes and Sam’s boots. Sam looked the opposite way, subtly using the hood of his cloak to shield his face from the men. After they’d gone, you didn’t turn towards him again, but you could feel Sam staring at you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the cheerful calls of men and women loitering in the street. “And once I am king, we can be together. There will be no law to stop us.”

“But there is a law now, and I’m bound to keep it, as are you,” you replied. You pushed the dress into his grasp and stepped just out of his reach, drawing your own cloak closer around you. The wind ruffled your shift and apron and Sam’s hair fluttered in front of his face as he stared down at you with hurt in his eyes.

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

“Of course I do, my King.” You bowed your head slightly, silently willing away the lump in your throat.

“Y/N—”

You stepped back again, almost tripping over a pile of firewood. Sidestepping, you lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I must go.”

His flickered to your bandaged hand when you reached up to adjust your hood once more, and your breath caught in your throat when he blocked your path and tenderly grasped your wrist with one hand.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. You kept your eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t see the lie in them, but he hooked a finger underneath your chin and gently guided you to look upward.

“It’s not nothing to me. You’re hurt.”

Your lower lip trembled as you held his gaze, until finally he dropped his hand and you could avert your eyes again. “I cut myself while I was helping cut vegetables. It was a clumsy mistake.”

Sam stood for a moment before he said, “You work in the bakery. Do not think so little of me that I do not know your trade. Tell me the truth, Y/N.”

“Is that an order?”

Even without looking, you felt him tense beside you.

“It’s a request,” he quietly answered. “Tell me the truth, my love.”

His words cut deep into your heart, expertly carving out the softest parts of you and extracting them from the walls you’d built. Sam knew how to get past your every defense in just a moment’s time, and a tear rolled down your cheek as you stared down at the muddy, snow-mottled ground.

“The eggs I fetched for Ma’am this morning went missing. She believed it to be my fault, and I was punished.”

“Punished?” Sam repeated, and you slowly nodded. “Show me, I beg of you,” he added.

You knew that he was no stranger to blood or injury, but the shame you felt while unwrapping your hand was like salt in your wounds. Sam would never understand what your life was like, not now in the kitchens and certainly not before you’d escaped your homeland to come to Lawrence. Accepting punishments you didn’t deserve came easily to you, and the scar that would form across the back of your hand would only be one of many that littered your skin.

Sam took your hand in his once the bandage was removed. He held it gingerly, cradled between his own gentle palms, as he inspected the lashes. They were precise and though the blood had crusted over and dirtied your skin, you knew that underneath the mess, the four lashes stood like tallies across your knuckles and hand. Four identical scars would form, a constant reminder to you and others of your supposed blunder. You’d be forever marked by your inabilities.

“You should see a doctor” Sam finally said, and you pulled your hand away.

“I’ll heal fine enough on my own,” you argued. Before he could say anything more, you wrapped the bandage back around your hand and tucked it underneath your cloak, out of sight. “I truly must go now. If I don’t return with the eggs…”

“Let me walk with you,” he insisted.

You shook your head, but Sam stepped closer, crowding your personal space. “Please, I beg of you. I’ll leave you before we near the castle upon your return. I just wish to be with you before…”

His next words went unspoken, but you heard them loud and clear.

Before I’m crowned King.

Before everything changes.

Before I’m forced to marry for the good of the kingdom.

Before you fade away from my memory.

Swallowing thickly, you looked back down at the ground and nodded. “Very well.”

Sam held out his arm. It took you a few seconds to stir up the nerve to take it, and then he was leading you toward the outskirts of the village before you could think twice. He walked in silence beside you, carefully veering you around large puddles and holes in the ground. He positioned himself between you and the busy village paths and took the brunt of the slush and mud splashing when horses rode by and when children pushed carts full of root vegetables, evergreen boughs, and firewood toward their families’ stalls. The two of you remained quiet even as you walked, and you thought it strange that Sam didn’t ask for directions to Jody’s farm, nor did he even ask the farm to which you were heading. He simply steered you along in silence.

When you finally arrived at the Mills’ farm, you removed your arm from his and gathered your skirts in one hand so you could navigate their crowded land with more ease. Chickens roamed freely in their appointed yard, as did the goats in theirs, but you knew that their son and one of the village boys wouldn’t be far off. They took good care of the animals. A loss of any could surely devastate them all.

Smoke blew from the chimney as you neared their small hut. As soon as you were within a few feet, the door swung open and Jody met your gaze, her own eyes filled with concern. You never visited midday.

“Y/N?” she asked. Once you were near enough, she ushered you inside to the waiting warmth. You immediately took your normal seat at her table, but you glanced back over your shoulder when she wasn’t there to join you. Instead, Jody stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide and her body tense with indecision.

“He’s a friend,” you told her, but she only continued to stare.

Jody suddenly dipped into a low curtsy, her head bowed until she could only stare at the floor. “Your Highness,” she frantically murmured. “I apologize, I did not recognize you from afar.”

From where he stood just outside the door, Sam met your eyes through the open doorway. His hood had fallen, revealing his face, and snowflakes clung to his hair. His skin was pink with cold as he gave you a sad smile, then knelt slightly to help Jody rise.

“Please,” he said, his voice soft. “I am only here to accompany Y/N.”

Silently, Jody looked between you and Sam, and you felt warmth rush to your face, though not from the heat of the fire burning in her hearth.

“Of course, please come in, Your Highness.” Jody stepped out of Sam’s way and gestured for him to sit across from you at the table. She shut the door tightly behind him, then bustled around her small home. You watched for a moment as she retrieved a second wooden cup and began to pour tea. It had been ready to drink already, and guilt as heavy as lead sank to the bottom of your stomach. Jody and her family had little as it was, and now they’d waste their precious tea on you.

Sam took the empty chair and his legs immediately crowded yours under the table. He murmured an apology, then looked around the room. Two beds had been pushed against the wall to make room for the table and chairs. A roll of blankets was tucked atop one of the hay-stuffed mattresses, and several sets of clothing hung on hooks above the second.

“I apologize for the state of my home, Your Highness,” Jody said as she carried over two cups, then placed one in front of each of you. “We make do with what we have.”

He shook his head. “You may call me Samuel. I’m nobody important here.”

Her eyes grew wide and she glanced at you, but you focused on preparing your cup of tea with the small bowl of sugar she’d somehow produced. You knew with every minute that passed you’d get in deeper trouble with the head baker. Still, you couldn’t sabotage Jody’s time with Sam with your own troubles. It was very likely she’d never see him again, just as it was likely you’d never spend this much time with him again after today.

“But Your Highness, you are always—”

“Please,” Sam insisted. “I’m only accompanying Y/N today. I needed to get away from the coronation preparations, and she agreed to show me around the village.”

Of course, you hadn’t agreed to that. You’d barely agreed to anything, and the reminder of the upcoming coronation made tears well up in your eyes.

You inhaled deeply, straightening up in your seat and willing them away. You had to focus on the task at hand. Both Sam and Jody looked over at you as you downed your tea and winced as it scalded your tongue and throat.

“I need more eggs, Jody,” you told her. “The ones I bought from you this morning have disappeared. If I do not return with more…”

You trailed off, but Jody knew what you meant. She’d managed to get you talking one day and you’d spilled the horror stories of the head baker and the punishments you and the other kitchen girls had received. She’d also heard all about the horrors of your previous home. You’d shown her the scars that came with those stories, too. The only thing she didn’t know about you was how closely you held Sam to your heart, but that was a secret you could never betray.

Sam didn’t say anything as Jody quietly excused herself to search their chicken yard for more eggs. You obeyed, sitting completely still with your empty cup cradled between your hands. The bandage kept rubbing against the healing lashes every time you moved. You tried to shift it away from them as subtly as possible, but Sam was watching you like a hawk.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

Sighing, you turned your head to look at the flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. “Samuel…”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable, Y/N. Why will you not let me help you?”

You looked down at the cup in your hands, fidgeting with the cracked handle. It clacked against the wooden table as you carefully placed it at the edge of the table. The cups were the finest in Jody’s collection, and your stomach twisted at the thought that she might think differently of you now that she’d seen you with Sam. Would she tell the other women in the village? Or her husband? What if her son had seen you, or the other shepherd boy? If someone found out that you’d been consorting with the prince unchaperoned, you’d be done for.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can’t get accustomed to your help. Soon enough you will be the king and I…”

“You will be my queen,” Sam fervently replied.

Shaking your head, you rose from your seat. The door swung open before Sam could speak up or join you. 

“I believe this will be enough,” Jody said. The basket in her hand was only half full of eggs, but your chest swelled with relief and gratitude nonetheless.

“It will have to make do,” you told her as you dug the coins from the pocket of your apron. “Will this be enough?”

Sam stood and you glanced over at him. His expression was unreadable, but then he nodded slightly, and you quickly looked back at Jody. It only took you a moment to realize that he’d been negotiating on your behalf.

You gripped his arm, digging your nails in until he looked over at you. He kept his expression neutral even as he turned his back on Jody to shield you from her curious eyes.

“You can’t,” you hissed at him. “They’ll ask why you’re paying her money. They’ll find out about us.”

His head shake was small, but not unnoticeable. “Dean won’t tell.”

If Dean knew, then there was no doubt in your mind that Sam had told others about your trysts, and your stomach twisted at the thought. You stepped away, staring at him for a moment longer, then turned and took the basket from Jody, who still stood by the door.

“Thank you, Jody. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you stepped back out into the cold midday air and started making your way back toward the castle. If anyone had stopped to ask you, you would’ve told them the tears in your eyes were from the cold.

The head baker’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and you hadn’t even made it to the actual feast yet. She’d ordered you and the rest of the kitchen girls to be working three hours earlier than normal, long before the sun even rose on Christmas Eve, and the upstairs servants had told you that the guests were talking about a feast that stretched long into the night. According to Lady Charlie’s handmaiden, most of the visiting royals planned to celebrate until the priests came for the midnight blessing. After that, there would be Christmas feasts tomorrow morning, afternoon, and evening, allowing everyone to celebrate. The leftovers would be taken to the villagers, and then there was the servant’s dinner to prepare for. You were exhausted. Between the extra work in the kitchens and the mental and emotional strain of avoiding Sam at any and all costs, you’d barely had time to catch your breath, let alone sleep or eat.

“Y/N, are you well?”

You glanced over and forced a small smile in Anna’s direction, though you never truly met her eyes. Your brain and hands were focused on the lump of dough sat on the table in front of you. Ever since leaving him at the Mills’ farm, you’d thought of little else besides how Sam could approach you next. He’d always teased you about getting bold and visiting you in the kitchens while you were working, but the very thought of that struck fear into your bones. If the head baker, or anyone, really, discovered your relationship with him, you’d be hung.

“You look pale, and tired. Maybe you should rest.”

You shook your head and tried to muster a little bit more life into your tired body. “I’m fine, Anna. Truly.”

When you looked up at her, she was turned toward you but her gaze was focused on the doorway leading to the castle courtyard. All day long, pages and servants from the neighboring kingdoms had been arriving to serve their own dignitaries, so when you turned to see what she was looking at, you’d expected an exhausted young boy or girl, looking lost and very, very hungry. What you hadn’t expected was Sam.

Sam, dressed in navy velvet, a gold circlet atop his head, and a gold chain resting on his chest. Sam, with shining black boots and his sword tucked neatly against his hip. Sam, with his hair shining in the light from the candles and his eyes focused solely on you.

“Y/N,” he began, and you swallowed thickly, your fingers digging into the dough in front of you. Your legs trembled and you had to lean against the table for support. He stepped through the doorway, ducking down to avoid knocking his head, and slowly approached the table where you and Anna worked.

“I cannot do this without you by my side. It would be wrong for the woman I love to be absent from this part of my life. I beseech thee, with every part of myself, to join me.”

He held out his hand as he stopped a few feet from the table. You couldn’t tear your eyes away and you licked your lips, trying to come up with a suitable response. When notching came, all you could do was gape at him and shake your head.

“Sam, I— I cannot be with you.”

“Yes, you can,” he gently argued. “You will not be punished. You are committing no wrong.”

You closed your mouth and quickly shook your head, glancing over at Anna as you continued to grip the table through the bread dough. It would no doubt have to be thrown out after your mistreatment. No good loaves could come of it now, just as no good would come to you after Sam departed. You were utterly and truly ruined.

“And what’s this? Why aren’t you— Your Highness!”

Whirling around, you stared in shock as the head baker collapsed into a low curtsy. It only took a second before Anna had collected herself enough to do the same. Only you and Sam remained standing, but he was still focused solely on you.

“I cannot,” you croaked, shaking your head. You tried again, more urgently this time. “You need to go, Your Highness. Please.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes flickered down to the scars on your hand. The head baker would surely whip you again for this. When you noticed Sam looking down as well, you hurried to tug the sleeve of your dress down to cover them, but it was too late. His eyes caught the movement and his eyes darkened slightly at the scars, then even further when he saw the whip coiled on its wall hook behind you. Ma’am had left it there as a reminder of what would happen if you or the other workers slacked on your tasks for the coronation or the Christmas feasts.

Sam dropped his hand back down to his side and his other came to rest on the hilt of his sword. He walked around the table, approaching the head backer, who still lay prone on the dirty kitchen floor.

“Are you the mistress here?” he asked. His voice had changed and you shuddered at the formality of it. With you, Sam spoke softly, gently, and with all the earnestness he could muster. Now, his words dripped with displeasure.

Silently, Anna rose and helped you over to sit on a nearby barrel of brined fish. It hadn’t quite made it to the storehouses before everyone grew busy. The smell of the fish was overpowering and it had been all day, but you barely made it to the barrel before you stumbled over your own feet. Sitting in the stink would have to do.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ma’am whimpered.

You closed your eyes, holding your breath even as your lungs burned. You couldn’t bear to watch Sam fulfill the part of his job you knew he hated. Yes, people far and wide respected him for his level head and for being a fair and just ruler in his father’s stead, but he was also Lawrence’s judge, jury, and, when absolutely necessary, executioner.

“Then I command you to treat your workers with the grace they deserve in my kingdom. This will be your one and only warning.” Sam paused. “My father would not be so kind. You are lucky that I will hold this discovery close. I will be watching you well.”

Ma’am whimpered again, her words unintelligible as Sam backed away and scanned the room for you. Once he found you sitting beside Anna, who’d stood tensely by your side throughout the whole exchange, his face softened.

“What must I do to convince you?” he asked.

You looked down at your hands, ignoring when Anna’s grip on your arm tightened at the sound of Sam’s voice directed toward you. 

“Samuel… I’m but a servant. What we had needs to end now that you are becoming king. You must marry for the good of the kingdom, even if it is not what you desire.”

“You sound like my father,” he replied, a hint of humor in his voice.

His footsteps were soft as he crossed the room, stepping over the baker. His sword bumped against the leg of the table when he stopped a few feet away from you and Anna.

“May he rest in peace. He was a wise king, and you will be too,” you added.

“I will be even better with you by my side, Y/N. I love you, and I always will. You cannot ask me to try and give my heart to another, not when it will always be with you.”

Tears made your vision blurry until you finally looked up at him. His expression was pained as he waited for you to reply. When Anna gripped your arm even tighter, unable to stand the silence any longer, you shook your head.

“And what of your people? They will speak ill of me. Will you be able to handle that?”

“No one will—”

“They will,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile. You sniffled and patted Anna’s hand to signal her that she could let go. When she did, you carefully stood from the barrel, but you didn’t move away from it. “They will, my love, and you cannot punish them for it. They will be jealous and confused and angry that you chose someone so unworthy of your love, but fighting against their venom will only make it worse.”

Sam fell silent as he searched your face. Finally, he answered, “Are you accepting me, then? Will you stand beside me today, and every day after?”

After a moment, you nodded and offered him a small smile. “Yes, Samuel.”

Beside you, Anna laughed in pure relief, and you glanced over at her. She tried to muffle it, but you began to laugh as well. Sam surged forward and took your hand in his, making you look back at him. He dipped low to press a kiss to the back of your uninjured hand.

“I believe there is even a dress waiting for you, my lady,” he said.

You laughed a little more then, and when Sam took your hand to lead you out of the kitchens and up into the castle, you didn’t resist. Instead, you turned to wave at Anna. When she called after you in hopes that you’d come visit her in the days to come, you nodded fervently. You’d never forget the friend she’d been to you since arriving in Lawrence, and you’d repay her kindness tenfold.

Sam led you up to the main hall of the castle, where his older brother stood waiting in similar clothes. His robes were a deep red and the circlet on his head was also gold. The sash across his chest bore the Winchester crest, and the polished hilt of his sword gleamed bright in the winter sun streaming through the windows.

“You work in the kitchens?” he asked once you and Sam had fully emerged from the staircase. 

Tentatively, you nodded and glanced over at Sam, who’d positioned himself between you and the hall, shielding you from prying eyes. A tall evergreen decorated with candles and red berries stood proudly behind Dean.

“Yes, sire,” you replied, dipping into a slight curtsy. While you were certain that he’d disregard your show of respect given Sam’s affection for you, Dean was still captain of the King’s guard and that title alone was enough to make you tremble. He held more power than most people knew.

Dean scoffed and reached out to take your other hand. He bowed and kissed over the scars. His touch was gentle and you felt your face grow warm. Being kissed by one Winchester brother was enough to make your heart race, but two? You were practically floating, and Sam chuckled knowingly when he caught your somewhat dazed expression.

“Come, my love. Dean will be the one to escort you down the aisle for the ceremony,” Sam murmured.

You blinked and looked up at him, at a loss for words. Being left to your own devices in the upper parts of the castle was a terrifying prospect, especially since Sam was the one who’d escorted you up. If you were caught without him… You’d heard horror stories of servants who’d assumed too much of themselves. You shuddered.

“You will be perfectly safe,” he reassured you. He squeezed your hand and nodded encouragingly, but your stomach still churned with nerves. 

When you glanced over at Dean, he nodded as well. “You have my word that I will not leave you, Y/N. I am sworn to my brother’s protection, and therefore I am sworn to yours,” he said.

Slowly, you forced yourself to exhale and nod in agreement. “Very well.”

“I will see you soon, Y/N,” Sam said. He dipped down and pressed a kiss to your cheek this time. The flour that clung to your skin didn’t seem to bother him, and underneath the white dust your cheeks grew warm for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived to pull you from the depths of the kitchens. Sam always seemed to be able to turn you into a lovesick young girl, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sam backed away. You watched in silence as he turned, then strode down the hallway with such purpose that the path in front of him cleared immediately. Most of the crowds you had seen entering the castle for hours were nowhere in sight, but no one in the hall stopped to bow as he passed, as they had for King John. You wondered if he’d requested such behavior or if things would change once he was crowned. Since you’d begun meeting in secret months ago, Sam had never struck you as the kind of person who demanded a person’s respect. He always earned it in his own subtle way, just as he had earned your affections. He’d snuck past all your defenses in less time than it took you to escape from your home country.

Once he’d disappeared from view, Dean lifted his arm for you to hold. You gratefully accepted and let him guide you in the direction of the masses.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you entered the main part of the grand hallway.

“To the coronation,” Dean replied. He steered you around a group of knights who had gathered along the edge of the hall.

You stumbled and gripped his arm even tighter as ice cold panic flooded your veins. “The coronation? Now? I thought it not for a few hours!”

With his other hand, Dean steadied you. He slowed his pace for a few steps, then stopped when you planted your feet in the plus golden rug, refusing to move.

“Yes,” he answered, “the coronation. Where did you think we were going?”

“I— I did not know, but I am not— I cannot go to the coronation!” you hissed at him. You glanced down at your shift and the thin leather shoes you’d been wearing for years now.

“That’s horse shit. Of course you can go. Sam’s requested your presence, Y/N. You won’t be turned—”

“Maybe not,” you argued, “but I won’t truly belong.” You pulled your arm from his. “I’m dirty. I smell like yeast and fish. I don’t know the proper way to act or the proper things to say. I can’t dance. I don’t belong here, Dean, and one man’s love cannot change that.”

He watches you for a moment before his expression softens. “I believe that is why he cares for you, Y/N.”

You stared at him, confused. In your head, there’d been lists of reasons for Sam to turn you away. There’d been an even longer set of ways that the people of Lawrence could dismiss you from the coronation, each one more humiliating than the last. How could he love your faults?

Dean gently guided you to take his arm again, then began walking toward the cathedral at the far end of the castle. “You are not of royal blood, and you were once a stranger to Lawrence, but you’re intelligent. You’re quick, and you make him happy. Not a day has gone by that he hasn’t spoken of you, and he’s mentioned no less than a thousand times how beautiful you are.”

“Truly?” you asked, and he chuckled. When you glanced over, Dean stared straight ahead, but he smiled.

“Truly.”

You stopped before a set of doors that stretched high above your head, ending in a point only inches from the lofted ceiling. The wood shined in the candlelight and you shivered as guards on either side pulled them open for you and Dean. A gust of wind blew through the cathedral, making the candle flames on the golden stands all around you dance and flicker. Rows of dignitaries inside turned at the sound of the giant doors creaking open and every bit of giddiness from Dean’s commentary drained out of your body.

“You swear that this is what Sam wants? That this isn’t a trick?” you asked, looking up at him.

Dean regarded you with a soft smile. “I swear, Y/N. I gave my word that I would protect you, did I not?”

Hesitantly, you nodded. “This is true, but—”

“Then you are safe with me. I’m the captain, and they will obey me”

You took a deep breath, then nodded again. “Very well. I’m ready.”

He dipped his head and forced his expression into a neutral one before stepping forward. You kept your eyes focused on the grand altar at the front of the cathedral as Dean led you down the center aisle. The ladies and lords on either side of you gasped and whispered as you passed. It took every fiber of your being not to turn and run the other direction, and by the time you’d reached the steps that led to the altar, you were trembling.

“You are safe,” Dean whispered. He leaned in close to you so that only you could hear. “They cannot harm you, nor will I let them try.” When you shakily exhaled and nodded in understanding, he continued, “Sam will arrive soon. After he is crowned king, you will take his arm instead of mine.”

Confused, you looked up at him just as the fanfare began. “What then?” you asked.

The twinkle in his eye made your stomach flip. “And then you will join us at the feast. Sam can have new clothes brought for you, if you would like, and you will celebrate with us. I believe he had a gown made for you especially. Did he not?”

Before you could answer, Dean straightened and lifted his fist to place it over his heart, just like the other knights did as Sam entered, but his other arm stayed in place to hold you steady. You clutched it tightly as the music continued and Sam processed down the center aisle of the cathedral. Long strands of evergreen garland marked his way. You marveled at his steadiness amid the grand procession. Children selected from the village and from royal families assisted with his robes and men in heavily decorated robes of their own carried tall, pure white candles and shining gold artifacts ahead of him.

Sam looked every bit the king you knew him to be. In the time since he’d left you in the care of his brother, Sam had donned a red sash embellished with the Winchester crest. A long navy robe trailed behind him, trimmed with white and composed of the richest velvet and fur you’d ever seen. His expression was grave and steady, though you knew his nerves hid deep down inside of him. Sam had told you how scared he was to be king. He didn’t want to let down his people or harm them in any way, but you had faith in him. All of Lawrence did, too. If they didn’t, his father wouldn’t have allowed him to be crowned king until it was absolutely necessary. Instead, John had made way for his son to take the throne at a much younger age than he had. In his last breaths, John had ordered for there to be no royal advisors or interim leaders in between his death and Sam’s ascension. It was only to be Sam leading the people, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

The ceremony passed quicker than you’d expected, and soon Dean was leading you across the dais to where Sam stood, newly crowned. He looked out over the visiting lords and ladies with the same serious expression as before, but when he turned to look at you, the sun shone through the stained glass in the massive basilica. You couldn’t help but smile back as he took your hand in his, bowed, and kissed the back of it. The gasps from the gathered crowd were but background noise as Sam lifted his head just enough to catch your eyes from below.

“My King,” you greeted. Your cheeks ached from the intensity of your own smile, but you couldn’t stop. The sun shone down upon you, casting colored shapes across Sam’s face and the robes that swirled around his feet like dark ocean waves.

“My heart,” he answered.

Thank you for reading! <3

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[snowgoldwaylon]

Snowgoldwaylon's Masterlist!

I will NOT write about:

Drug addiction.

Addiction to anything serious or harmful in anyway.

Any kind of sexual assault. That isn't tolerated on my blog.

Racism. I also don't accept the "oh I was just joking."

Cheating, infidelity, or r@pe.

Key: 🌟 means it contains smut/NSFW

🌠 means it has angst

👣 means family oriented/pregnancy.

Russell Adler: 🕶

Age Gap Headcannon

Cosmos and Cauldrons

Slipped Away part one part two part three🌠

Sleep Headcannon

How Do We Fix This? 🌠

Hang On!

Can I Have One Last Kiss? Part Two Part Three🌠

Wait, Does That Make Three of Us?👣

No More Second Chances, X Alex Mason Part Two🌠

After All This Time

The Outfield

Frank Woods: 🏹

I've Got You! Part one Part two

You What??

No Matter What

Likes and Dislikes Headcannon

Family Headcannon 👣

Auf Wiederseh'n PT. 2

I'm Gonna Rock You

Alex Mason: 🌞

All Night Long

Backyard Boy

20 Years Later 👣🌟

Ring of Fire

Eleazar "Lazar" Azoulay: 🍻

Soft Lazar Headcannon

New Dad Lazar Headcannons 👣

Lawrence Sims: 🧭

Relief

New House Headcannon

Helen Park: 🇬🇧

Life Saving Surgey Headcannon

Kapano "Naga" Vang: 🎭

And That's When You Came

Not So Rough After All

NSFW Headcannon 🌟

Harry Stone: ♠️

S/O Headcannon 🌟

Shane Sparks: ⚡

Date Night Headcannon 🌟

Dimitri Belikov: 🚁

You Call That Sneaky??

Traitor Headcannon🌠

Raul Menendez: 🇳🇮

Whisper of Roses, Part One Part Two

Nightclubbing

Family Headcannon 🌟

Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin: ⚰

Anything for You 🌟

Cold Truths 🌠

John Rambo: 🪖

Hurt reader Headcannon

Grigori Weaver: 🎃

New Dad Headcannon

A Night At The Opera

Samantha Maxis: 🧟‍♀️

Hanging out with the Safehouse Crew HC!

Freya 'Wraith' Helvig: ❄

Gender Neutral Headcannon!

Ingo Beck: 🇧🇪

Smut Headcannon!

[lieslidoo]

The beauty in the mundane Howl Jenkins X Painter!OC

Part 1: an uncharacteristically early start.

this is really not book or movie accurate I just like the characters so like, MAJOR cannon divergence, love y’all. Have mercy on my soul dear reader, for I have not proofread this fic.

Far beyond the bustling coasts of Porthaven and the lush greenery of the folding valley lay the small village of North Bexley. Surrounded by two mountains of admirable size, it stood snugly as if it had always been there, and as far as Agatha Havenglow was concerned, it had. 

Miss Havenglow was perhaps one of the most well known inhabitants of this charming Hamlet. Had you gone to the village folks and asked about her, many of them would have told you that she was a strange young girl who would have been unbearably lonely if it wasn’t for her sister, Emily Havenglow. 

Some of them, more knowledgeable, might show you around the town and point out the many things she had painted : various hanging signs, storefronts, advertisements and the occasional mural. And If you had asked Mr. Tailor, the town’s baker ( who funnily enough married the village tailor’s eldest daughter Ann) he’d tell you she was “too good for this small town” and that  “She ought to leave us for South Bexley”, by which he’d mean that she should leave North Bexley for better, bigger towns and not, as it may seem, the actual town of South Bexley, which has, as of yet, not been located (and nor do I believe it ever will be). He might then point you in the direction of the Havenglow’s home, at the edge of Silverkeep lake more commonly known as North Bexley Orphanage, where our story begins.

On the first day of the month of may, Agatha was getting an uncharacteristically early start to her busy day. She put on the pair of woolen socks Mrs. Havenglow had gifted her for their last birthday and threw her shawl around her shoulders. The dark herringbone floor creaked as she moved to her nightstand and picked up her journal and her charcoal pencil. And, as she had done every morning before, Agatha drew back the green velvet curtains, opened her blinds, sat on the windowsill and started to draw. She drew the camellias and Irises that Her mother loved so much and the arrowwood her sister had cared for, the wrought iron swing that her and Emily bickered over and the wooden one that Mrs. Havenglow had put in next to it in a futile attempt to bring peace to her garden. The small pond that emptied into Silverkeep lake where the children would once go to capture frogs and feed ducks. Everything held a story, a memory and try as she might, she always felt she failed to adequately draw them.

She was hard at work sketching the small tree stump on which she had once twisted her ankle when her door opened and the familiar scent of Emily’s cinnamon basil tea filled her room. “You’re up early today.”

“You’re painfully observant today.”

The girl joined her sister on the windowsill and, with her tea tray in her lap, waited for her twin to finish her drawing. She had learned a long time ago that this was to Agatha what gardening and baking was to her, her way to make sense of the world around her and to safely interact with it, and there was nothing in the world she loved more than watching her draw. After a few minutes, the pencil stopped moving and the handkerchief stopped smudging and there was peace, both in Agatha’s room and mind.

“Are you done?” “Yes.” “Let me see.” She handed her the journal and took one of the warm cups of tea in exchange. “I don’t know how you do it. It’s so…”  “So what?” “So alive.” The artist snorted at her sister’s praise and took back her journal, setting it on her dresser a bit harsher than she normally would have.  “How was the may dew?”  Agatha asked Emily, her voice still rough from sleep. 

She was referring to a strange custom the girls of Bexley had been doing for centuries. On the first morning of may, all young maidens would run out to the nearest prairie and dutifully wash their faces with the morning dew. It was a sight to behold, pretty women, all in their white nightgowns laying on the green grass and waiting for the sun to shine on them away from the hungry gaze of men and the pressures of marriage. 

“It was intimate, and invigorating.” “Did you go with the other girls?” “Of course! Praying is best experienced in the company of your peers.” “And by praying you mean rolling around in a prairie for half a sunrise?” Agatha mocked. Her sister sneered at her and dangled her legs out the window. The air was crisp and the sun was warm. 

“Oh! The bannocks!!” Emily cried out “I thought you had forgotten” “I could never! its tradition.” Agatha laughed at her sister’s earnest response to what she clearly said in jest. Try as she might she could not recall one time where her sister had forgotten a celebration ; be it holiday or name days, she never faulted. The girl handed her a small bun and took hers, raising it towards the sky. “Merry May-Day Aggie” “Merry May-Day lily.” The bread was still warm and smelled of rosemary, lavender and honey. As the bannock touched her mouth, she thought of the village fête tonight and felt a strange sense of trepidation, something that was quite rare in a village where familiarity and predictability were king. “Are you going to say yes tonight?” She asked. “To what?” “To Lawrence, are you going to say yes?” “If he proposes, yes.” Emily stated, sadness burdening her normally sweet voice “There must be something we can do, have you asked Mr. Tailor? he’ll help us, I’m sure.” “He doesn’t have the money. Lawrence is our best solution, our only solution.” There was a moment of silence and Emily braced herself for what she knew her sister would offer. This room had heard this particular argument unfold a myriad of times and for a moment, Emily was saddened that this was probably the last. “We could run.” “Aggie, no.”  “You could open an orphanage where you want, Agatha argued, you don’t need it to be in boring old Bexley” “Well I like boring old Bexley, and I love Havenglow cottage, and I won’t see it go to waste on some rich stuffy old man who will only use it in the summer.” “So you’ll marry a rich stuffy old man instead?” “Lawrence is not old.” He wasn't, not particularly

“No he’s just boring.” He was, most definitely “What a wicked thing to say!” Emily chastised. “A wickedly true thing to say. He’s not worthy of you goose.” “Agatha…” the girl softened at the old nickname, “don't start, please.” “If you just moved away to a city, even for a month,” Agatha started, “I’m sure you could see that Bexley cottage is not the be all, end all of your life, and even if you don’t, I'm sure you could find a better, handsomer, RICHER man to take Lawrence’s place.”

The girl was not wrong. Emily was certainly the most coveted maiden in North Bexley. A born homemaker, she could steal any man’s heart with her baking prowess and her angelic singing voice. Although her heart had, as of yet not been moved by anyone.

“We don’t have a month aggie, and who’ll take care of this place? Who will make sure no children are turned away?”

“We haven’t had a child in 5 years Emily.”

“Then it should happen any day now.”

“Oh for the love of god!”  Agatha exclaimed, snatching her sister’s hand with her own “Promise me, if there’s a possibility, even a small sliver of a chance you could escape this wretched, pathetic excuse for a…”

“Aggie…” Emily warned

“Marriage, you’ll take it. You’ll try.”

“Aggie, its…”

“Please, for me.”

The girl mulled it over and sighed. Emily could never say no to her sister, being the second born, she always felt like Agatha knew best and she had been shown to be right many times before. The eldest Havenglow seemed to have a sharp sense of intuition and often knew something would happen before it did (be it a stranger entering town, an unknown illness falling upon a villager or an unpredicted visitor at the cottage door). When the girls were children, Emily used to swear that Agatha possessed magic powers, but the girl relayed it to having spent all her life in a predictable and boring small community. After all, she reminded herself, sorcerers were few and far between and she would most probably never meet one in her lifetime, so the idea of her being such a creature was absolutely preposterous.

“Fine, I promise. But if by the time of his proposal I don’t have a better, safer option I will say yes, and I will go through with it. And that’s final.”

Agatha considered arguing further but, feeling the time wasn’t quite right, laid her head on Emily’s shoulder and chipped away at her bannocks.

 A heavy silence fell over the room as both of the Havenglow girls ate their breakfast, their linen nightgowns floating in the wind and their feet snuggly kept warm by the impeccable knitwork of the late Mrs. Havenglow.

Hello there, no Howl in this chapter, but lawd he coming. Had to set stuff up :)

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-6)

Word count: 3.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: fluff, feels

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​​ I love you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“This is fun!” You rolled the ball along the lane. It didn’t even reach halfway before sliding to the side.

“You actually suck!” Jack exclaimed somewhat surprised. “You weren’t lying about that.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you let him pass to the aisle, carrying another bowling ball. He knocked out 2 pins in the first strike.

You cheered for him as he drew another and in his second turn knocked down four more.

He triumphantly pumped his fists in the air and you high fived him. “That’s more than either of us have accomplished this evening.”

Jack threw a wry look at the girl he had been eyeing all evening. “I don’t think I’ve impressed her.”

The girl in question was a pretty blonde and you had definitely seen her check Jack out at least once. Jack was actually quite good-looking with his soft brown hair and a guileless smile.

“You know what I think?” You winked. “You should go talk to her.”

“Noooooo,” he backed off real quick. “She’s never going to want to talk to me.”

“I’ll bake you those cookies I gave Cas if you do it!”

He made a face. “Aw Y/N! You’re not playing fair.”

You shrugged. “It’s a one time deal. Take it or leave it.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” He glanced at the girl once. “I get the cookies even if she doesn’t agree?”

“Sure do. You just gotta ask her out!”

He gave you one accusing look, then walked over to the girl at the counter. You watched as she smiled sweetly and he nervously scratched his neck. After a few minutes, he came back waving a chit and a huge, disbelieving grin on his face. “She gave me her number. Can you believe that?”

“Whoever would have guessed.” You feigned disinterest. 

“This is such a win-win. I got a date on Sunday and I get the cookies,” he sighed happily.

You wanted to reach out and shuffle his hair, so you did and Jack wrinkled his nose at you.

The two of you grabbed a quick bite at a fast food trolley and walked home teasing each other about how sucky the bowling was.

“I thought the ball was going to drag you with it that one time,” Jack said as you opened the door to your apartment. 

“Know what?” You said conspiratorially. “I did, too.”

You waved a goodbye and then locked the door behind you, exhausted in the good way. The moment your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep.

**************************

14th August 2008

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do better than that,” Jo encouraged and you threw the ball hard. It still landed at her feet.

“I can’t do this,” you gave up, going to sit under the tree in the park. “I’m tired.” 

Jo sighed as she sat down beside you. “It’s been almost a month since your Gran… you know… You can talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you muttered, plucking the grass at your feet.

She laid back on the grass, staring into the bright blue sky. “It’s just that I know you’re hurting- I know it, but if you don’t tell me what to do, I can’t help you!”

No one could help you. Help could only be given in times of a disaster or a problem. There was no help for the last person left alive in the world. No one was coming for that person… just like no help was coming for you who were the last one left in your world.

“There you are!” Dean Winchester was walking up the small hillock, a wicker basket in his hand. He looked damn good in that leather jacket, the sunlight making his hair glint golden.

You gave Jo a questioning look and she smiled guilty. “I uhhh… arranged for a surprise picnic for us. Dean offered to get us sandwiches.”

You wanted to feel annoyed with her. The last thing you needed was to pretend to smile for company. Dean had been exceptionally kind to you, but you didn’t want to make him a victim of your isolation driven lethargy.

“Hey,” Dean said, his eyes softening when he saw you. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said automatically.

He pushed the wicker basket towards you. “Jo said you liked muffins. Now, we tried baking some, but they come with health warnings.”

“We?”

“Sammy and I,” he said, jerking his head sideways. You saw Sam coming up the hillock with a thermos in his hand. 

You sat up straight. 

You hadn’t seen Sam since your return to Lawrence for good and felt a bit ashamed about how you had behaved at the funeral, clinging to him the way that you had throughout the night. The brothers had walked you to the house and stayed over along with Ellen and Jo. They had left with Jo before you were up the following morning.

Ellen had stayed with you for the better part of that week, helping you tie the loose ends. She absolutely refused to leave till you agreed to come with. After a while of resisting her, you had given in. Who was left here for you anyway?

After returning to Lawrence, you mostly locked yourself in the room, rereading the books you had bought with you. It was immature and highly inappropriate to be this unhelpful in someone else's house, but you couldn’t bear the pitying looks in everyone’s eyes. Sam had come by once or twice. You had pretended to be asleep each time after hearing his voice downstairs. 

Now, you didn’t have a choice but to talk to him.

“We’ve already pulled out the death by muffins, I see,” he said, sitting down next to his brother. He looked up and your heart almost leapt out of your chest. You had forgotten just how good-looking he was… and then when he was looking at you like that...

“We tried, Y/N,” Sam said apologetically. “We really did. Asked the recipe from Karen and all, but they just taste weirdly bitter.”

“It’s too much chocolate,” Jo said, wrinkling her nose as she took a small bite out of one innocent looking muffin.

“Here, you wanna try some?” Sam offered, looking so hopeful that you automatically took it from him. When your fingers touched his, it felt electric. 

It was awful. The bitterness wasn’t the rich bitterness of chocolate. It was excess baking soda. It left the insides of your mouth feeling desiccated.

“Well, you’re officially the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Dean declared, his face twisted in absolute disgust. “What did you eat the full thing for?”

“It’s not that -”

“Bad?” Dean asked, revolted. “It’s disgusting. Satan’s rear end tastes like that. We only brought them with us to see we could feed them to the ducks! Sammy and I bet money on that.”

He looked so horrified that you laughed with a mouthful of the muffin, the crumbs sputtering out of your mouth, in all their caustic horribleness. Once the laughter broke out, a fit overtook you and you fell back into the soft grass laughing till tears rolled down the sides of your eyes.

“You guys suck at baking,” you coughed in between the chortles.

“Yeah, Y/N is our resident baker. Her cakes and cookies are to die for!” Jo lauded. You punched her in the arm lightly to stop her from praising you.

“Maybe you can teach us,” Sam said, and there was an undercurrent to his voice, warm and inviting. 

“Alright you crazy kids hang around here with the basket,” Jo said. “We’re heading out for a while to the diner. There’s a couple of things we have to pick up for mom. Don’t hog the muffins.”

You sat up straight, realising that laying around like that wasn’t displaying any sense of propriety.

“Will you be alright?” Jo asked, worry lining her forehead.

“Yes, don’t worry about me.”

Jo still looked concerned as she walked down the hillock and disappeared from view.

You closed your eyes, and before Sam could utter a word, said, “Listen, I’m really sorry about how I behaved at the- the funeral. It was anything but appropriate to put you through that. I’m really sorry.”

When Sam didn’t say anything, you opened your eyes, albeit reluctantly. 

He was staring into the distance, not at you. When he finally spoke, you couldn’t place the tone of his voice. “Is that really how you feel?”

“What do you mean?”

He regarded you closely, the wind ruffling his hair. “I was under the impression that me being there helped you- even if just a bit. But if all it did was make you feel sorry, then maybe I shouldn’t have come.” 

“It did help me,” you said quickly. “Really. The mere thought that there was someone who wasn’t there because they had to be there was more help that I can even begin to explain. I mean Aunt Ellen and Jo are family, and though they didn’t know Gran too well, they still had at least some level of obligation to be there. And it was so thoughtful of Dean to drive Jo. But not a single person was there only and only for me, except you. Trust me, you got me through that evening.”

“Then why are you sorry?” He asked, perplexed. Though he appeared relieved at the same time.

“Because,” you said, resigning to finally saying it out loud. “It doesn’t justify clinging to you like that. It was really kind of you to come, but I think I overstepped my boundary.”

“Y/N,” Sam said, placing his hand on top of yours. “I didn’t come there from the kindness of my heart. I came because I was worried about you. It was driving me crazy thinking about how you were. I had to make sure with my own two eyes that you were okay. I’ve known you for what, a week? And even then, drove all the way across Kansas to just see you! And you think you overstepped boundaries?”

“As wrong as it sounds, I was really glad to see you. I don’t regret a minute of having you next to me. I think it kept me standing throughout the dinner,” you said in a low voice, not meeting his eyes. “The next day a few women brought casseroles over and they asked about you. I didn’t know what to tell them.”

“Not that you needed to tell them anything, because it was none of their business,” Sam said through gritted teeth, “But aren’t we, at least, friends?”

At least. 

People didn’t want to kiss their friends, and you wanted to kiss Sam. Very Much.

“Thank you for being there, Sam,” you said, instead of replying to the question. “It meant a lot to me. It still means a lot to me.”

“What’re you going to do now?”

You shrugged. “Hope for an acceptance and then apply for a student loan. Then I can get out of Ellen’s hair.”

Sam braced himself against the smooth grass with his other hand- the one not laying over yours- resting it behind his back. This way, his torso stretched out, his t-shirt hitching up just a bit to reveal his belt. You tried your best not to look. 

“You know Ellen and Jo don’t think like that,” Sam reasoned. “Jo was so worried about you. She still is.”

You sighed. “I know she is. This isn’t them. I’m just not comfortable. I just miss Gran so much, and I hate that I wasn’t there for her. I know I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. It was a stroke and it was instantaneous, but I just can’t help feeling guilty… like if I had been there, I could have stopped it somehow. “

Sam didn’t say anything to contradict your words, didn’t try to oppose you in any way or tell you how you shouldn’t be feeling this way. He knew that one couldn’t control the way they felt. He simply put his hand on your shoulder, something he had done a lot that other evening. It was comforting and more familiar than it should have been. Your body simply accepted his touch now. 

“She left the house to my name, or so a lawyer told me. He said I should sell it and use the money for college. I don’t want to sell it like it was a shack that didn’t mean anything to anyone. I want to keep it and turn it into a bakery one day, so someone who loves baking as much as Gran did can run it one day.”

You didn’t understand why you were telling him any of this. Maybe because you knew Sam wouldn’t preach or discredit any of your words. He simply listened. Listened and understood, not just what was spoken but also that which was left unsaid. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, the feel of his skin on yours felt calming.

“So what did you bet on?” You said after several moments of silence, raising the muffin from hell and waving it in front of him.

“That the ducks would eat it.” His mouth quirked up. “I don’t have high hopes, though.”

“We should at least try,” you suggested. “Ducks are vicious creatures. They just might eat it.”

The ducks did not eat it.

You tried throwing small pieces into the little pond in the park, and Sam tried chasing them much to your entertainment, but the ducks were smarter than you gave them the credit for.

“Blood fiends,” you glared as a couple of them flew off. 

“You don’t like ducks?” He asked, amused.

“I was 6 when a duck attacked me. They are monsters.”

Sam laughed as the two of you made your way to the bench in the park. It was the same bench where he had taken you the first time you had met him. You could see the bar across the shrubbery in the distance. 

When you looked back at Sam, his cheeks were slightly pink and so were the tips of his ears.

“Hey,” he said, his hand tucking his hair behind his ear. “Do you want to go out for dinner sometime?”

“Like a date?” You asked, surprised.

He licked his lips. “Yeah. Like a date.”

Sam was clearly nervous about this, absurdly more than you were. “That sounds nice,” you said.

“How about Saturday?” He asked, then laughed a short laugh. “I mean. I would have wanted to go sooner but I’m flying out of town.”

“It sounds great.”

Then he said those words that made your heart melt. “Y/N, I can’t wait for Saturday.”

**************************

“Damn, woman! You can bake.” Meg came hovering out of her room still in her pajamas. “This is what heaven smells like.”

You smiled at her over the fresh batch of cookies you had pulled out of the oven.

“Y/N! It smells like a Bakery in there. What are you doing?” 

It was Kevin, shouting from the balcony. 

“Come out here!” He yelled, and Meg opened the glass doors of the balcony wide.

“In a minute!” You shouted back, replacing the tray with a new one in the oven and adjusting the dials. 

Both Jack and Kevin were in the window, looking like they had just woken up. Even the undergrads seemed to be out on their balconies downstairs. You could hear the muttering.

“I’m baking cookies for everyone,” you announced, leaning against the railing.

“And by everyone, you mean...?” Asked Meg.

“Just everyone,” you waved your hand vaguely. “So far there’s 138 and counting. I’ve been up since six.”

“You’re mental,” said Meg. 

“Those cookies were just for me!” Said Jack at the same time as her.

Pam, who was just entering the apartment from what must have been a night shift at the bar looked up at the assembled crowd. 

“What the hell?” She shouted. “Y’all are really this jobless first thing in the morning, huh?” Then she paused to sniff. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

“Y/N’s baking cookies for everyone.” Kevin was kind enough to provide her with an answer.

“Don’t you have better things to do than feed these idiots?” 

You grinned down at her. “There’s a whole batch for you.”

“Well, God bless your soul, you sweet child,” she said and disappeared under the awning.

You were sure to pack some cookies with you while leaving for the first day of your job. 

The Robert Crown Law library was starting to feel homely enough by this point, thanks to having spent so much of last week there for the Civil Procedure assignment. The Librarian on duty was supposed to overlap her shift with you for today and tomorrow, so you could be trained. Molly was sweet and really helpful. The library was fairly empty today. It was easier for her to run you through the bookshelves and their arrangement, the basics of handling the data centre and the ultra-systematic cataloging. Molly insisted that she take the desk duty for the day while you familiarized yourself with everything. Back when you had worked as the library assistant in TU, you had always considered yourself to be lucky to get paid for spending time amidst so many books. That hadn’t changed.

“We’re really lucky with the Law library,” said Molly. “The other libraries are a mess, especially the big ones. People keep calling there all the time, and even visitors are allowed without appointments. Law library only gets our usual crowd and very few people are a particular pain in the ass.”

Molly was a final year student. She had taken a break after her second year to backpack across Europe. Apparently she really didn’t have any anxiety whatsoever about her career. Whatever the case was, she was super chill.

“These cookies kick ass, by the way,” she hummed after taking a bite out of the one that you had offered. You smiled and bent down to retrieve the tags.

“How’s it going, Molly?” 

You stilled. 

“Sam!” You heard Molly squeal. “You’re back again? Spending an awful lot of time here these days, aren’t you?”

“Oh, it’s the loneliness,” he said in a mocking voice.

“Y/N, What’re you doing down there. Get up,” Molly called.

Slowly you got to your feet. 

Sam straightened like a rod at the sight of you. He was wearing flannel today over a pair of jeans, which shocked you because you were so not used to seeing him in anything except suits. It made him look so young. Not like your Sam, or the professor you distanced yourself from, but painfully somewhere in between.

“Sam, this is Y/N. She’s the new odd-shifts librarian,” Molly introduced cheerfully. “Y/N, this is Sam Winchester. Does he teach you?”

She turned to Sam. “Do you teach her?”

“Uhh-”

“Oh, of course you don’t remember her name, even if you do teach her. It’s been like two weeks,” she prattled on. “Do you take a class for the first year?”

“Civil procedure,” he said curtly, not sparing you a single glance. Then he spoke to Molly. “Can you grab that book I was reading yesterday? I think I asked you to keep that one aside.”

“Sure. Here,” She handed him a Code violation handbook from under the table. He promptly turned away from the table, heading straight for a bench that did not have a view of the Librarian’s desk.

It hurt. It hurt like a whiplash each time he ignored you. Pretended that you didn’t exist. And it sucked that you couldn’t even blame him for it.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Molly sighed after Sam.

“Sure,” you muttered, going back to retrieving the cards.

“It’s not unusual for professors to be here, but Sam’s been spending an awful lot of time in the library since the past few weeks. I wonder what’s up.”

You avoided the whole section of the library where Sam sat, sticking to the computers and going through the database cataloging. It wasn’t long before Sam was back at the table. 

“Actually, can I take this book to go?” He asked.

“Leaving already?” You heard the thrumming of keys as Molly entered the book’s name in the directory of issued books.

You did not turn around to peep, and the desk was almost out of earshot anyway.

“That’s it, then?”

“Thanks, Molly.”

“Hey, you want to grab a cookie before you leave?”

“Sure!” 

You heard the crumbling sound of the wrappers and then a crunch.

There was a pause. In an almost imperceptible voice, so low that you had to strain your ears to hear it, Sam said, “Tell her these are lovely.”

Blood rushed to your ears, and you did not hear the rest of the interaction. You didn’t even go back to the desk again till the end of the shift. By the time you returned, all the cookies were gone and Molly was humming to herself softly, completely having forgotten about passing on the compliment. She waved at you as you left for the day and you waved back absentmindedly.

Tell her these are lovely.

He knew. He just knew.

*******************************

A/N 2: Last slow chapter!!! Yay. Things start escalating pretty quickly after the next chapter. No playing footsie. ;) 

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Girl Next Door (Part 10) - Don’t Break

Summary: The reader takes Dean out on his surprise date and she feels herself growing closer to him. When she and Sam are late getting home one night that week though, Dean gets a bad feeling...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 5,000ish

Warnings: language, medical emergency

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

Reader’s POV

“Jack,” you said the next day just after lunch. He was out on the front porch, writing down a few things on a list. “Whatcha doing?”

“I was working on copying over a few of those old recipes for you,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said, ruffling his head as you hopped down the step. “I’m busy with Dean for the day but you want hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner? Winchesters are making ‘em and apparently they come with bacon as if that’s surprising.”

“Sure,” he said. You stopped after a few feet, glancing down at the keys in your hands. “Go enjoy your date, sis.”

“Are you okay hanging by yourself today again?” you asked.

“Yeah. I’m good. I promise,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take another bike ride.”

“Alright. Be safe,” you said. “Make smart choices.”

“Go on your date, dork,” he said. You gave him a quick wave before you slid into your car, parking out front of Sam’s, Dean ducking outside and into the car with a baseball hat on his head.

“Ready?” you asked.

“For my surprise date? Been looking forward to this all weekend.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, laughing as you pulled him out of the passenger seat. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” you said, wrapping your arm around his. “I may have heard from a little birdie that Dean Winchester was quite the baseball player in high school and his favorite minor league team of all time is the Springfield Cardinals who just so happen to be playing a special game in Kansas City today which is like super close to Lawrence and guess who got us some tickets.”

“I haven’t been to a game since I was like, eight,” he said, smiling at you. “I...how-”

“Sammy comes over and hangs out when I bake sometimes while you’re at work. Eileen says social interaction and testing his memory is good for him. Apparently you also convinced Sam to jump off the roof of your shed when-”

“Forget that. This is awesome!” he said. “I’ve been wanting to see a game for years but never got around to it.”

“Well today’s your lucky day then, ain’t it Winchester?”

Dean was all smiles when you walked back to your car that evening, Dean tossing a ball up and down in his mitt you’d borrowed from Sam. He spun around and looked back at the stadium, smiling and giving you a hug as you moved to get in the car.

“This was great. I can’t believe I caught that foul ball and...and this was so awesome. Thank you. I never had someone take me out on a date before and you like blew it out of the water, sweetheart,” he said.

“Didn’t I tell you that you deserve nice things too, Dean?” you said. Dean leaned back, eyes flickering around your face.

“I don’t remember the last time I was this happy,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy to be honest.”

“You got a lot more happy days ahead of you. I promise.”

Dean’s POV

“Hm,” hummed Dean, plopping down on his bed that night, closing his eyes as he faced the ceiling with a smile.

“Have a nice date earlier?” asked Sam. Dean didn’t bother to open his eyes but nodded, Sam slipping inside and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off her at dinner tonight.”

“She took me a on a date today and it was so thoughtful and simple and fun,” said Dean, throwing his arm over his face. “I sound like a teenager.”

“I remember you coming home and talking about girls when you were a teenager. Never quite saw this reaction though,” teased Sam. “You know, Jack and I talked tonight and if you two want to ever go out you know, not on the weekend, Jack doesn’t mind sticking around here, keeping an eye on me. Hopefully I get cleared on Friday to start staying home alone, watching TV again.”

“We’re like the misfits,” said Dean, smiling under his arm. “We got brain trauma, relationship issues, workaholic tendencies, mental institution stays...us four are like a soap opera. Not to mention you’re falling for your nurse.”

“I was thinking of going out on my own date soon, depending on what the doctor’s say,” said Sam.

“Good for you, Sammy. Jess would be proud of you,” said Dean, moving his arm away. Sam nodded, fiddling with his hands. “She would be proud of you, Sam. I am.”

“Work’s a long way away for me again but...I’m not going back to the way I was. I’m not burying myself in it again. I want to pick Avy up from school and play with her, cook her dinner every night. It’s not your job to do those things for her. I think...I think I want to get away from the big business stuff, help the little guy. It’s why I signed up in the first place. You know, help people starting their own business and what’s involved, help people like Jack who didn’t know they were…”

“Being abused?” said Dean. Sam nodded, Dean turning his head. “I’m pretty sure he knew Sammy, after a while. But how low do you think he felt to not say anything? He probably thought he deserved it.”

“I talked to Gary at the firm for a little bit this afternoon. Obviously don’t say anything to anyone but there was another person that popped up from Bryerwood. If Jack’s ever ready to talk about it, I think there’s a real case there for him,” said Sam.

“Give him a little time. Maybe bring it up in a few weeks, see if he’s ready to talk about it again,” said Dean.

“He’s more relaxed now than when we first met him,” said Sam. “I think Cas and Y/N are really helping him.”

“You know how mom and dad used to fight about money a lot? We didn’t have the greatest example of a healthy relationship growing up,” said Dean. Sam nodded and lay back against the bed, looking over to Dean. “But I never for a second doubted that mom and dad didn’t love us. They were not perfect parents and dad and I fought more than once, pretty bad too. But they hugged us, told us good job for doing good in school, they never told me it was wrong to want to be a mechanic, they never told you that it was wrong to want to be the first Winchester to go to college.”

“What’s your point?” asked Sam quietly.

“Can you imagine how fucked up the two of us would be if our own dad didn’t hug us? Dad’s not a warm and fuzzy guy but Y/N and Jack don’t even remember getting a hug from theirs. He’s their dad. I’m just saying...maybe we’re luckier than we knew,” said Dean.

“Boys,” they both heard from the door, their father stepping around the corner. “Mom and I are going to head home if that’s alright.”

“Yeah. Thanks for hanging out this weekend,” said Sam. He nodded, John giving them both a smile. “You’re free to stay the night though. It’s getting kind of late.”

“No no, that’s alright,” he said, turning to head out. “Boys.”

“Hm?” hummed Dean, sitting upright, Sam doing the same.

“I know...I wasn’t a perfect father. I wasn’t even a very good one most of the time. Mom and I know we fought too much, took too long to sort all that out. Dean you were already a man by that point. We screwed up that part,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “But we have always loved you. Both of you.”

“We know that, dad,” said Sam. “We love you too.”

“Alright. Night boys,” he said. Dean waited a moment and followed after him, catching up with him on the front porch. “What is it, Dean?”

“I’m sorry I told you to stay away from him when Sammy was in high school,” said Dean, swallowing hard. John gave a quick smile, tilting his head. He cupped Dean’s cheek, running his thumb under his eye.

“Don’t ever apologize for that. It’s one of my worst memories and one of my proudest,” said John. “Sammy was better off without me for a while there. I’m sorry you had to be his father when I couldn’t.”

“I snapped at the hospital,” said Dean, pursing his lips. “A few weeks ago-”

“Dean. Don’t apologize for that either. Sam gave that authority to you to make decisions for him, not to us. He trusts you. He trusts you far more than he’ll ever trust me and that’s okay, Dean. You made all the right calls that night, all the hard calls. Sammy might not be alive if I were in charge. You knew how strong your brother was. You’ve always known. There’s no hard feelings, Dean,” he said.

“I…” said Dean, turning around, his father’s hand sliding to his shoulder when he heard a laugh in the air. Y/N and Jack were on her front porch, the pair of them cracking up at something.

“Parents mess up, Dean,” said John. “Even your friends parents I’m sure. But kids have a way of doing okay despite all that.”

“For all the times we fought and argued and said I hate you...” said Dean, still looking over. “Even when I thought you wanted me gone forever...I knew you didn’t. Way down but I knew. Those two over there...I’d take your parenting over what they had any day.”

“Call us if you need any help with Sammy, alright?” he said. “Any time.”

“I will,” said Dean, giving him a smile. “Drive safe.”

Five Days Later

“Uncle De?” asked Avy the next evening. Dean lifted his head up from watching the summer storm, Avy taking a seat on the front porch beside him. “Something wrong?”

“No,” said Dean, staring next door, turning his head. “So, you going to binge watch some movies with your daddy tonight? The doctor’s said his head is getting a better even faster than they were expecting.”

“We still can’t play outside,” she said with a frown.

“No but daddy can read you bedtime stories and play other games again the doctor said this morning,” said Dean, running a hand over her head. “And he can be home by himself so that’ll be good.”

“Are you gonna leave?” she asked.

“No, no. Your daddy and I talked and I’m going to stay here with you guys through the summer, maybe longer. He can’t drive a car for a long time so I’ll be around. Plus I like living here,” he said. “But you remember what I said about if Daddy acts funny when I’m not around?”

“I call you and go get Y/N or Jack next door,” she said.

“That’s right. Call me and we’ll make sure he’s okay,” said Dean, watching Y/N’s front door crack open. He frowned, Jack jogging over in his raincoat, dropping his hood when he hopped onto Sam’s porch.

“Hi Jack!” said Avy.

“Hey Avy. Can I talk to your Uncle alone for a minute?” he asked. Dean nodded and urged her inside, Jack smiling until Dean pulled the door shut, his face falling. “Y/N’s not home yet.”

“Yeah. I know. We had a date. She was running Sam to the store with her earlier. They’ve been gone a while,” said Dean. “A few hours now.”

“She’s not answering her phone,” said Jack. “Or Sam.”

“I know,” said Dean as he stood up. Jack glanced to the dark rainy night sky, pursing his lips. “Hey. Don’t freak. There’s a six year old on the other side of that door. She’s been through enough shit the past month. She doesn’t need more.”

“What do we do?” asked Jack. Dean stared at the front door and pulled out his phone.

“Hey Cas...can you do me a favor?...I’m fine, just Avy needs a last minute babysitter...Sam and Y/N went out earlier and they’re not home yet...I’m sure they’re fine...yeah...well I had this same feeling that night and...no, no, we’ll drop her off...it might be all night...it’s probably nothing...I owe you one...yeah, well, I still owe you one,” said Dean, hanging up the phone. “Alright. Go lock up your house and meet me back here. I’m dropping Avy off and we’ll go look, alright?”

Jack’s gaze went down to Dean’s phone when it lit up again with a different name, Dean following it. He’d spoken to them enough lately that he put the number in his phone.

County North Hospital.

Reader’s POV

One Hour Earlier

“So, you taking Eileen someplace fancy tonight?” you asked Sam on the way home from your shopping trip.

“Does Eileen strike you as the fancy place kind of girl?” laughed Sam. “But yes. Well, it’s casual-ish too. I was going to bring her to Winslow’s.”

“Oh, nice. I’ve never been but heard it’s yummy,” you said, pulling onto the highway. “I like that gray dress shirt you got. The one with the little charcoal specks. Wear that with some dark jeans, your black beanie, she’ll be all over you.”

“I just realized today was the first time in a month I went to the store, went anywhere besides our houses or the doctors really,” said Sam.

“Well no one said it’d be easy but you’re doing a lot better, Sam. We can all tell. You’re more alert, happier. Before you know it, you’ll be driving around on your own again,” you said.

“Thanks for taking me today...and helping with the clothes. Been awhile since I’ve been on a date,” said Sam, rubbing the back of his neck. “A work shirt is too formal.”

“I understand,” you said. “You got some casual but nice stuff. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see a Winchester boy pick out three flannel shirts though,” you laughed.

“We like our flannel,” said Sam, staring out the window at the dark edges of the road. “Dean really likes you, you know.”

“I really like him,” you said.

“I’ve never seen my brother this way with a girl. He trusts you. He doesn’t do that with girls. Not after the stuff his exes said,” said Sam.

“I’ve had this conversation with your brother before Sam. I don’t care what other people think of him. I care what I think and I think, he’s a really good guy,” you said, tapping your fingers against the wheel.

“I wish we could have been friends without me needing a whole horrible accident,” he said with a laugh.

“Life’s funny sometimes,” you said. “Jack’s gonna babysit tonight but I…” you trailed off, Sam suddenly jerking in his seat. For a second you thought he was having a seizure but he grabbed the wheel and turned it hard to the right as your brain registered what was going on in front of you. A tractor trailer on the other side of the highway was halfway through the median, jack knifed and heading straight for you.

It ended up hitting the back portion of the car thanks to the turn Sam did, not straight into the driver’s side which you didn’t really have time to be grateful for. One of your hands was out in front of Sam, the both of you jerking against the seatbelts as the car flipped violently. Your hand got hit between something hard and Sam’s head, most likely the dash if you had to guess. You shut your eyes and when you opened them, you were upside down, airbags deflating, glass and metal all over. Your body fucking hurt and you couldn’t see a thing.

“Sam,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt, some piece of metal or console pushed in so you couldn’t quite see him. “Shit. Sam, say something.”

You groaned when you dropped to the roof of the car, climbing out the drivers window. The truck was stopped and on it’s side. Both sides of the highway were backing up now. You couldn’t see all that great in the rain and the dark but you dragged yourself around to the other side of the car, Sam grumbling as he pulled himself out the passenger window.

“Sammy?” you asked, kneeling down and pulling him over to the front of the car and into the light from the head beams. You ripped off his beanie and looked at his head, Sam shaking it as he gave you a thumbs up.

“I’m alright. Head feels in one piece. At least I feel alr-” he stopped. You moved to lay him down into a recovery position but he just put his hands on his shorts and started fumbling with his belt.

“Calm down, you’re-”

“Your leg,” he said, ripping the leather out of the loops. You stared down, seeing blood. You were expecting it to be honest. Your leg hurt a lot and you knew there must have been a cut.

It was gushing though, the pins and needles feeling hitting you fast. You stared for a second while Sam slipped the belt on under your leg and around you, cinching it tight.

“Probably femoral artery if I had to guess. Could be popliteal too,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ah. Okay, that hurts now. The adrenaline’s wearing off. Shit. Oh boy. I lost a lot of blood in the car I think.”

“Chicks got more blood right? You’re okay,” said Sam, pressing down on your leg.

“Yeah, chicks got more blood,” you said with a laugh. “Learn that one in school?”

“Biology. Jess took biology. She was going for nursing. I thought she was cute, figured I better try to impress her,” said Sam.

“I’m probably going to pass out but don’t let go of the pressure if you can help it Sammy. I ain’t ready to meet her just yet,” you said. Sam nodded, putting a hand on you when you started to lean back. “Remember to tell them you had brain trauma and what medi...the uh...the…”

“Okay,” he said as you lay back on the ground, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Okay. Just hold on, Y/N. It’ll be okay.”

Dean’s POV

Present

“Sammy,” said Dean, giving Sam a big hug from where he sat in his hospital bed a few hours later. “I thought I told you I never wanted to see you in here again.”

“Since when do I listen to you,” said Sam, pushing Dean back. “I’m okay. Bumps and bruises. They did a head scan and everything. Really. I’m okay thanks to Y/N.”

“Y/N?” asked Dean.

“She had like a super fast reaction, shot her hand out in front of me, stopped my head from hitting the dash. I don’t know if she broke her hand or not but the doctor’s said it probably stopped me from cracking my head open,” said Sam. “You go and see her yet?”

“No. They won’t talk to me. I’m not family. Jack’s trying to get answers but she was his power of attorney or something and not the other way around so no one’s telling us anything,” said Dean.

“Hey. Go find Doctor Franks. I saw him not long ago. Ask him if he can find out for us,” said Sam.

“I will. Uh, Avy’s with Cas for the night,” said Dean, moving to take a seat.

“Alright. You go find out what’s happening with Y/N. I’m okay until mom and dad get here. Seriously, go get answers,” said Sam.

“Did...do you know anything at all?” asked Dean.

“...She was bleeding a lot. They took us in separate ambulances. I don’t know what happened after, Dean. I’m sorry,” said Sam. Dean smiled though and ran a hand over his head gently.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ll go find out what I can and let you know.”

Two Hours Later

“Here,” said Jack, handing a cup of coffee to Dean. He shook his head, Jack taking a seat on the bench beside him. “At least we know she’s still in surgery.”

“How are you so fucking calm about this?” said Dean, glaring at Jack. “She’s your sister.”

“I know she acts like she’s the older one a lot but she’s not. You’re not the only one that’s younger sibling was in an accident tonight,” said Jack. “And I’m freaking out. I’m just putting on a brave face.”

“Who for?” scoffed Dean.

“Same reason you’re sitting there bouncing your knee with that hard ass look on your own face. I deal with my shit on my own. I don’t cry in hospital hallways. I just don’t,” he said.

“Me either,” said Dean as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Text me if the doctor swings by.”

Jack nodded and Dean headed down the hall and for the elevators. He was familiar enough with the place and was quickly out the back door and across the parking lot, stepping into the woods a ways, finding the log on the ground that’d been there a month ago.

It was raining more now but Dean didn’t care. He still sat down and got wet, resting his head in his hands. He felt a shudder run through him as he took a deep breath and gripped one of his legs.

“Please, please let her be okay. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her be okay. Please.”

Twenty minutes later Dean slipped back inside, wiping off his face as best he could, stopping in the bathroom, eyes a little red but he could pass it off as being tired. He stopped in the cafeteria before he headed upstairs with some hot chocolate for Sam and Jack.

Sam was sleeping in bed, their parents there with him now, Jack still on the bench outside his room, sipping on the coffee Dean had turned down. Dean nearly took a seat when he saw Doctor Franks appear around the corner, Jack up on his feet.

“She’s out of surgery. It went well. It was a clean cut on her leg so they were able to stitch her up. Muscle wasn’t damaged in her leg so she should be up and around fairly quickly,” said the doctor.

“What about her hand?” asked Jack.

“Bruised, swollen and wrist is sprained but not broken. She has a concussion but that was expected. A few bruised ribs too but the car took most of the damage for them both,” he said. “They want to observe her for the night but she can go home in the morning along with Sam. They both need rest and try to keep her off stairs and her feet for the next week or so.”

“She’s okay,” said Dean with a nod. “Okay.”

“Can we see her?” asked Jack.

“Once she’s moved out of post-op but I’ll come find you two when that happens,” he said. “This could have been much worse. Let’s be glad it’s not.”

“Thanks doc,” said Dean, taking a seat on the bench with a sigh.

“How does she not hate me,” said Jack, sitting next to him. Dean turned his head, Jack staring across the hall. “When I was overdosing, she must have been scared to death. And I did that to myself. This...this is terrifying, sitting here, knowing you can’t do anything.”

“Jack,” said Dean. “Let it go. You’re not that guy anymore. I know you’ll never scare her like that again.”

“No, never,” said Jack, staring at him. “I wish I could take it back.”

“You can’t, Jack. But you can move past it. I know you haven’t been home long but she’s going to need you to step up and be her big brother again. She’s going to need all of us to help,” said Dean.

“I can do it,” he said with a nod.

“I know,” said Dean, patting Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You want something to eat?” asked Jack around three in the morning. Dean shook his head, sitting on the other side of the bed where Y/N was sleeping. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Dean gave her a smile when they were alone, running his hand over her head.

“Thanks for saving, Sammy, sweetheart. I owe you one,” he said. She stirred and sighed, nuzzling her head against his hand. “I’ll be quiet now. You sleep, Y/N.”

Reader’s POV

There was a slightly chemical smell in the air as you woke up, disinfectant that made your nose twitch. You blinked a few times, Jack snoring in a chair on one side of you, Dean laying his head on his arm, fast asleep, holding your hand in his. Facing forward you caught Sam with a few cuts on his cheeks, eating what looked like breakfast out of a styrofoam box in the chair at the end of the bed. He smiled and gave you a little wave.

“I’m guessing I didn’t die then,” you said, holding up your hand, seeing the bandages on it but no cast. You flipped up your blanket on the one side, spotting a bandage high up on your leg. “I’m also guessing your brain is still in functioning order?”

“Mhm. I live another day to eat crappy hospital food,” he said, wolfing down some eggs. “Always had good omelettes here though.”

“These two alright?” you asked, nodding to the both of them. Sam hummed around his mouthful of food.

“Yeah. I don’t think they finally crashed until like four or something. Our parents our passed out in my room. You want some water?” he asked. You nodded, Sam setting aside his food and grabbing the pitcher off the table. Dean shifted in his seat, rolling his head once the other way, turning back to you and briefly flashing open his eyes. They shut and flew open in the next second, your hand moving to run through his strands.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a smile. “Oh shoot, Sam. I bet your new clothes are ruined.”

“Told you she was fine,” said Sam, Dean’s eyes darting around your face.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said, gently running a finger over your cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a scratch or two,” you said. “Sorry I missed our date.”

“We’ll go on one tonight. I promise,” he said. You smiled and saw Jack wake up, a sigh of relief escaping him.

“Hey. You weren’t worried or something, were you?” you teased. Jack scowled, pointing a finger in your face.

“Don’t do that again,” you said.

“My driving was impeccable. Ask Sam,” you said.

“We just got shitty luck,” he laughed, popping a piece of hash brown in his mouth.

“So when can I get out of here?” you asked.

“Soon. Let’s maybe talk to a doctor first before you go wandering off.”

“Thank you for our date tonight, Dean,” you said from your bed, a pizza box between the two of you, a movie playing on the TV.

“Eh, near death ain’t cancelling our plans,” he said. You giggled, nibbling on another slice, his head resting on your shoulder. “Thanks for not dying last night.”

“Thank Sam. He’s the one that got his belt on me,” you said.

“You saved each other,” he said. He was quiet for a few minutes as you finished your food, wiping off your hands when you were done eating and turning off the TV. He sat up and moved the box to the floor, you rolling over closer to Dean when he returned, careful of keeping your right leg away.

“You okay?” you said quietly. He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”

“You better not,” he mumbled. “Mine.”

“You don’t go anywhere either,” you said snuggling down against him. You shut your eyes, his long fingers moving the hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. He traced around a small cut under your right eye, gently kissing your other bruised cheek.

“Don’t you get hurt like that again,” he said quietly. You nodded, Dean tucking your head under his chin with his arm around your back.

“I want you to stay,” you whispered. You didn’t open your eyes but felt another kiss on your forehead.

“You sleep,” he said. “Wake me up if you need something.”

“Sam?” you mumbled.

“Our parents are there and you got hit worse than he did. I was staying no matter what,” he said. “Do you want some medicine?”

“No. I’m fine. Just want to lay down with you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, sweetheart. We can do that.”

A/N: Read Part 11 here!

[atc74]

Breaking The Law

Squares Filled:  Cop AU for @spnaubingo / Neighbors for @spnkinkbingo / Thunderstorm for @spngenrebingo / Accidental Cuddling for @spnfluffbingo / First Kiss for BTZ Bingo 

Warnings: Where do I start? Baking, Dean in uniform, incredibly horrible, daringly hilarious and completely inappropriate pick up lines, masturbation, dirty talk, use of a sex toy, use of handcuffs as restraints during sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, consensual role play, intentional law breaking.  Crack, fluff, smut - what a package!

Summary: Y/N always bakes a pie for new folks when they move in to her quiet little Topeka neighborhood. When Dean Winchester moves in next door, she is in for a surprise. Her new, insanely hot neighbor is not what he appears and she formulates a plan to get what she wants. 

Pairing: Cop!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6333

Written for: @spngenrebingo @spnfluffbingo @spnkinkbingo @spnaubingo BTZ Bingo and @luci-in-trenchcoats who, over the course of a couple weeks said this: Hm, like obnoxiously fluffy lol. Maybe Dean meets the reader as a new neighbor or something and he doesn’t get a chance to say what he does for a living so she thinks he’s just this really nice guy always doing cute things around his house and with his family and then she finds out somehow he is one and is surprised because she thinks of him as super sweet Dean? Or you know, smutty cop Dean is always a safe bet too lol. Can’t go wrong with that. Dirty talk? Like because he’s so sweet that too is a bit of a shock.Maybe edging too? And then he’s as sweet as can be afterwards again? Michelle, I started writing and this is what came to me. I hope you love it! Even if it isn’t exactly what you asked for, I still think it’s pretty damn good! Thank you so much for the graphic! How you made this only knowing what squares I was filling boggles my mind!

Beta’d by: @hannahindie​, my support beam and enabler, who had this to say: ‘Hahahaha yes. And yes...I am howling...Oh good lord almighty I’m gonna die...I think I blacked out.’ Han, thank you!

A/N: So when I got this request, I set out on a mission and google’d my little heart out. This is not the smuttiest, but it is definitely the funniest thing I have ever written. Enjoy!

Want Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker​ 

Ringing the doorbell, Y/N stood on the front porch of her new neighbor’s house. It was a sultry evening and with the fresh baked pie in her hands, still warm from the oven, she was starting to sweat. “Dammit, just answer the damn door already!” She cursed under her breath just as the door swung open, a cool breeze hitting her in the face.

“Oh Christ that feels good!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing the pie into his hands as she walked through his front door, lifting the hair off her neck and fanning herself. Only slightly cooler than when he opened the door, she turned to him. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”

“Thank you?” He replied, looking at her with a confused look on his face. That is when she finally got a good look at him in person and not through the dusty windows in her kitchen.

“Damn! You’re a handsome one aren’t you?” she whistled, giving him a once over. “Sorry! Where are my manners! I’m Y/N Y/L/N, your neighbor.”

He shifted the pie to one hand and held his right out to her. “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Did you make me a pie?” He looked down to the glass dish in his hands.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Romeo. I’m a baker. It’s what I do. I bake the best pies in the county. I always bake a pie for someone when they move into the neighborhood,” she rolled her eyes and walked further into the house, without even a glance back at him. “Looks nicer than when Mr. McGregor lived here.”

“Well, from what I heard from my realtor, Mr. McGregor was ninety, a bit senile and a hoarder,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, but he liked my pie,” she smiled, remembering the sweet old man that had passed a few months earlier.

“Oh I bet he did,” Dean muttered, not taking his eyes off her ass as she walked toward the kitchen. Not that he minded a beautiful woman in his house, but this was a bit odd. He followed her, placing the pie on the counter.

“What did you say?” she turned around to face him.

“I said, I bet he did. This smells delicious! Apple?” He changed the subject and bent down to get a good whiff of the spicy goodness he couldn't wait to dig into.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said!” She laughed. “Well, I am sorry for barging in here like that on your first day in the new place. It was just getting so damn hot out there and with the warm pie, I was sweating like a whore in church! I better get out of your hair and let you settle in.”

He burst out laughing. “Oh my god! I haven’t heard that in forever!”

“Things old folks say, right?” She giggled, a hand over her mouth. “Anyway, nice meeting you Dean. I’m just that way if you need anything.” She pointed to her house and made her way for the front door.

“Thank you for the pie, Y/N. I’ll get the plate back to you tomorrow,” Dean walked her to the door.

“No hurry, just bring it back when you’re done. It should keep for the week just fine if you refrigerate it,” she informed him.

“Oh that won’t be necessary because it won’t last long. Pie is my favorite thing and I will probably have it finished by lunch tomorrow,” he told her.

“Well, then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Romeo,” she winked and walked out his front door.

“Holy hell! That’s the hottest guy I have ever met!” She shut her front door, leaning against the cool surface. “I’d only kick him out of bed to fuck him on the floor!”

“Fuck! She is the hottest chick ever,” Dean mumbled as he grabbed a fork and dug into the pie she made. “And she can bake pie? I gotta get me some of that.”

The next day, Y/N was busy baking away in her kitchen and trying to keep cool from the sweltering heat. Turning her trusty fan up a notch, she heard a knock on the door. As she approached the front, she could see a very tall, very built silhouette on her front porch.  She turned the knob and opened the front door to a very sweaty Dean Winchester, her unfairly hot new neighbor. She stood there for a moment, checking him out.

“Do you work for UPS? Because I am pretty sure I just caught you checking out my package,” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through her body like an earthquake.

“Are you a sprinkler? Because you’re making me all wet,” she murmured in response, not even caring that Dean caught her checking him out and and damn did she like what she saw. “Well come in already! It’s fucking hot enough without you standing there, letting all the cool out!”

Dean’s jaw dropped an inch or two and he didn’t try to hide the fact that he was giving her the twice over. He had never met a girl so bold before and it made him bolder in return.

“Your pie was fucking delicious. I could eat that shit all night long,” he admitted, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes darting from her eyes to her mouth to her tits and back to her mouth.

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite flavor Romeo?” she cooed, turning her back to him and slinking back to her kitchen.

“Whatever’s on the menu, Sweetheart,” Dean got a good long look at her ass as she opened the oven and removed the two freshly baked pies.

“Do you have a shovel? ’Cause I’m digging that ass!” He gave a hum of appreciation and continued to stare are her.

“Pretty awful pick up lines we got, huh?” she laughed.

“Yeah, they’re not the greatest, but it’s a good time!” He agreed.

She grabbed two beers out of her fridge and handed one to him. “So Dean, tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Uhh, I’m gainfully employed. I’ve got a brother, Sammy. He is an attorney in KC. My mom still lives in Lawrence in the house we grew up in. I have dinner with her every Sunday. My dad, uh, he died a few years ago,” Dean took a long pull off his beer.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she smiled warmly, laying her hand on his arm.

“You know, he lived a good life. He loved us and he was proud of us. That’s all I need,” Dean shrugged. “But, you...you’re a baker. Like is that your career?” His deep green eyes lit up.

“No, not officially, not yet. Right now, I just bake as a hobby and I do some small time catering,” she replied. “I am saving up to open my own place. I have a responsible, adult job with medical coverage and a ton of vacation. I am kinda liking my gig right now.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I have held the same job for fifteen years and I love it. I get paid well to do what I love and the time off isn’t bad. I am dreading going back to work in a few days though,” he sighed, finishing the beer. “Thanks for the beer, Y/N. What time can I expect that pie delivery?”

“Oh, you think I deliver free of charge more than once?” she winked.

“I already told you I get paid well,” he winked back. His pink tongue darted out, licking his lips.

“You know, we could always just skip the niceties, go upstairs to my bed and do all the things I’m going to tell my girlfriends we did anyways,” she stepped closer to him, keeping her eyes locked on his.

He chuckled.

“What’s so funny, Romeo?” She was so close to him now, she could the heat radiating off him.

“Oh nothing. I was going to tell you a joke about my dick, but it’s too long,” he quipped. “Have a nice day, Y/N.” He turned and was out her front door before she could even respond.

It’s not that Y/N had never met a man as attractive as Dean before. It was that she had never met a man that attractive with a job and a sense of humor. He had values. He cared about his family. He had dinner with his mom every week and she could tell the way he talked about his brother that he loved him and was proud of him. So yeah, she had never met a man as attractive as Dean, and it wasn’t all about the looks.

She did not deliver a pie that evening. She stared at it on her kitchen island. Well, when she wasn’t staring at Dean. He was bent over the front of his car, his ass on full display, tinkering with something under the hood. She literally could stare at that ass for hours. And she mostly did, until it started getting dark. Then it just felt creepy watching him with the lights off. So she slipped on a pair of flip flops, grabbed the god damned pie and stomped over to his house.

He was still playing with that car when she reached his driveway. The muscles in his back flexing under the thin, damp cotton shirt. The flood lights illuminating every curve and dip as he worked. She admired his back side, before she made her presence known. “Are you butt dialing me right now Winchester? ‘Cause I swear that ass is calling me.”

He jerked upright so fast, he hit his head on the underside of the hood. “Son of bitch!”

“Oh my god, Dean! I am so sorry!” she placed the pie on the steps of his porch before rushing to his side. “Just let me take a look.”

“No! It’s fine!” he protested, still holding the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I brought a peace offering...pecan?” She pointed to the pie on the stairs.

“Did you say pecan?” He asked.

“I did say pecan,” she replied.

“Damn sweetheart, that’s one of my favorites,” he winked and turned to grab the pie. “I like a woman that can bake. You know what else I like in a woman? My dick. Come on in.”

“Ha! As much fun as that sounds, I’ve already got plans,” she turned to leave. “Enjoy my pie, Dean and remember my name. You’ll be screaming it later.” She licked her lips and sauntered back to her front door, swinging her hips more than necessary.

Y/N lied about her plans for the evening, but Dean didn’t need to know what she was really doing. As hot as it was outside and as hot as Dean was making her on the inside, she hurried up to her room and stripped out of her sweaty clothes. She turned the ceiling fan on high, and pulled out her favorite toy.

Armed with only silicone, batteries, and the image of Dean, sweaty and covered in grease, stuck in her head, she played out her fantasies of him until she was too weak to move. Buck naked, she rolled over and slept peacefully for the first time since this heat wave hit.

Dean sat under the shower head, the cool water spraying over his tired muscles. He couldn’t get Y/N out of his mind. The way she unapologetically gives as good as she gets. That was the thing on his mind...giving it to her, hard and fast. His hand wandered to his dick. It was twitching at the mere thought of her. He gave it a squeeze, but knew it wouldn’t help. Dean stroked himself to full hardness, picturing Y/N. If he didn’t feel so relieved by his release, he would be embarrassed by how fast he came, like a fucking teenager. She was right about two things now. Her pie was out of this world and he came screaming her name.

She stayed away for a couple days to give her mind and hormones a rest, but she still couldn’t get Dean out of her mind. She caught glimpses of him every now then, but did her best to stay put, enjoying the last few days of her vacation.

She stepped outside one morning, the air cooler than it had been in more than a week. She decided it would be a good day to walk to the market and gather the supplies she needed for the large birthday party she was catering in a few days.

With her wagon full of fresh ingredients, she walked down the street toward home. She felt better since the weather had cooled down some and was looking forward to getting her baking done. She whistled as she approached the corner, waving to the mailman when she noticed a squad car parked in Dean’s driveway. His car wasn’t there, but she should’ve seen it coming. She knew he was too good to be true. She cursed herself for letting herself think the best of him. She put her head down and walked right on past to her own drive.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up!” A familiar, deep voice called out to her.

She whipped her head up and saw Dean rushing toward her, a pie plate in his hands. He was wearing a Topeka Police Department uniform, complete with the utility belt holding a gun, taser, baton, and handcuffs.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna catch flies if you keep that pretty mouth open any longer,” he laughed.

“You know, that uniform looks great on you,” she composed herself and licked her lips. “It would look even better on my bedroom floor.”

“Wow, I - uh…” Dean stammered, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck nervously.

“Speechless, Winchester? I’m surprised,” she smiled coyly.

“Oh no, not at all. I just wanted to thank you for the pie. It was incredible. And when you decide to open that bakery, let me know if you want to add ‘impeccable gag reflex’ to your resume,” Dean smirked, handing her the pie plate and walking home.

She stood and watched as he opened the door and slid back into his cruiser. He gave her a wave and sped off down the street in the opposite direction. “I thought he was a mechanic!”

Y/N spent the entire afternoon baking, icing and baking some more. She had cakes, cupcakes, and cake pops. Her first floor looked like a birthday party vomited everywhere, but she didn't care. She was formulating a plan. Now, she just needed to put it into action.

She waited until she heard Dean’s car pull into his driveway. She had showered the icing out of her hair and even put on a little makeup and painted her toenails. She dressed in her shortest cutoffs and a tight tank top and slipped on a pair of heeled sandals. She placed a few mini pies on a platter and gracefully walked over to Dean’s front door.

Without knocking, she opened the door wide and slammed it shut behind her. She counted to five, but only made it to three before Dean ran down the stairs in nothing but black socks and matching black boxers, his gun drawn. “What the hell are you doing, Y/N? I could have shot you! You don’t just walk into someone’s house like that! Especially a house that belongs to a cop!”

“Oh hi Dean!” She chirped. “I just wanted to bring you some pies. I’m sorry. Am I trespassing?” She bit her bottom lip and popped one hip out.

“What?” he answered perplexed.

“I’m sorry? Are you questioning the pies or trespassing?” She walked into his kitchen and dropped the platter on the table.

“Pies or trespassing? Are you drunk?” Dean took the last few steps, coming to a stop at the door as she walked past him, putting her hand on the knob.

“Oops! Sorry,” she giggled and walked out.

Dean locked the door and leaned against it, letting his head hang down. That is when he noticed for the first time that he was just in his socks and underwear. And sporting a tent in his boxers. “What’s a nice girl like her doing in a dirty mind like mine?”

The next day, Dean went home for lunch to find Y/N laying out in her front yard. She was wearing a skimpy kelly green bikini and...was she spitting? He took a few steps to the edge of his lawn. Sure enough she was spitting on the sidewalk. What the hell? He shook his head and walked back home. He let himself in, remembering to lock the door this time, although he was sure he wouldn’t mind her trespassing wearing just those two slips of spandex she called a bathing suit.

Later that evening, Dean was sitting on his sofa, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He was watching the last inning of the Royals game against the Twins. He heard what sounded like singing coming from the street. He put the beer down and moved to his front window. Pulling the curtain back a little, he opened the window to listen, and watched for a couple minutes trying to figure out what the hell she was doing.

Y/N was riding a bicycle in those too short shorts and flip flops. She was singing the Alphabet Song. Now, Dean couldn’t deny she was the hottest thing he had seen in his entire life, but he was beginning to think she just might be bat shit crazy. He made a mental note to run a background on her before his shift the next day.

Dean woke earlier than normal the next day, showered and dressed and was out the door in record time. He sat down at his desk and pulled her report. There was nothing. She was clean, like squeaky clean. She didn’t even have a speeding ticket on her record. He just sat there and shook his head, not knowing what he was going to do about the hot and crazy neighbor chick. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her sane.

Each night for a week solid, Y/N rode her bike, or walked, up and down the block singing that damn children’s song. He decided then and there if he ever had kids, they were learning their ABC’s some other way because if he heard that fucking song one more time he was sure he just might shoot her.

He avoided her for the next week or two. He still saw her out in her yard. She would sing some nights and was still oddly spitting on the sidewalk. He missed their dirty banter and her pie. Maybe he should try to talk to her. Maybe she just needed a friend.

Dean walked over to her house with a six pack of beer. He stood on her front porch waiting for her to answer and just as he was about to go back home, the door opened. She greeted him warmly.

“Hey Dean, come on in,” she swung the door open so he could follow her.

“What is that smell? It smells like heaven!” Dean breathed deeply through his nose and closed his eyes.

“That is an order for Saturday. I am catering a police retirement party,” she commented, waving her hand over the dozens of baked goods in her kitchen.

“You’re the lady Bobby and Ellen have been raving about?” Dean marveled.

“I make more than just pie, Dean!” She told him, throwing a pinch of flour in his direction.

“Hey! Be nice,” Dean ducked, avoiding the mess. He grabbed a beer and handed her one. “So, do you usually socialize when you go to these parties?”

“No, they’re my clients, not my friends. Well, except for Bobby and Ellen. I worked with Ellen years ago and she was what I needed when my mother died. They’re like family,” she shrugged, cracking a few eggs into the bowl.

“Well, since you put it that way, would you like to come with me?” Dean asked. “I’ll be there, too. Bobby’s been like a father to me and my mentor since I was in the Academy.”

“Dean, I’m already going, besides, I will have work to do. I don’t just get to hang out all night like you do,” she replied, whisking the cake batter.

“Well, what if I help? That way, you have less to do and more time to spend with your extended family?” Dean offered. “And me.”

“We’ll see, Winchester. Now, if you’re not helping, you’re just in the way!” She poured the batter into a waiting pan and popped it in the oven.

“I’ll just be in your way,” Dean made a move to leave, but stopped. “I’ll see you Saturday, Y/N.” He gave her a wink and showed himself out.

“Hey Bobby!” Dean called out to the retiring chief. “I didn’t know you knew my neighbor, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah. She and the wife go way back,” Bobby commented, taking a sip of his coffee. “Don’t even think it boy. I’ll whoop you.”

“I can’t deny I feel something for her, Chief. But I think she might be a little ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’, if you know what I mean,” Dean relayed, his finger turning circles at his temple.

“She ain’t crazy boy, unless she’s into you,” Bobby chuckled. “She’s a sweet girl with a good head on her shoulders and is close to opening her own bakery.”

“Bobby! She rides up and down the block on her bicycle, singing the fucking ABC’s! She spits on the sidewalk for fuck sake! You know who does that? Crazy people!” Dean was shouting now.

“Oh boy, she got it bad. I gotta go call the wife,” Bobby walked away.

“What are you talking about, Chief?” Dean stepped in front of him, blocking his path back to his office.

“You ever looked up old laws that just never got gone?” Bobby asked him pointedly and Dean shook his head. “Just look ‘em up. Don’t be late to my party and remember I like Johnny Walker Blue.”

Dean was driving home from the retirement party behind Y/N’s delivery van. He kept replaying the night in his head. He also kept thinking about what he had found out the other day. Y/N wasn’t crazy, she was trying to tell him something. Now he just needed to get her to admit it.

He pulled into his driveway and hopped out of his car. “I’m gonna change quick, then I’ll help you bring in the rest, okay?” He called out to Y/N as she opened the back of her van.

“No problem. I’ll leave the door open, just let yourself in,” she called back, carrying a few trays in the house with her. A crack of thunder sounded above her and she rushed for the door. If she hurried, she could get them in before the storm started.

Dean quickly took off his jeans and button down and changed his clothes. He gave his teeth a good brush, then walked back out his front door, locking up behind him. Lightning had joined the thunder and the sky lit up as he made his way to Y/N’s front door.

He stepped up onto the porch and pounded loudly on the door. “Miss Y/L/N!”

“Dean, I told you to let yourself in!” she reminded him as she opened the door. Her jaw hit the floor as she took in his change of attire. “Wha-what are you doing, Dean?”

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, we’ve been getting complaints in recent weeks and decided it was time to look into it before it became a big problem,” Dean stood with his hands on his belt and his voice carried an air of authority. The sky opened up and the rain pelted down.

Y/N involuntary pressed her legs together. She could already feel the wetness in her panties just from looking at him. “I’m sorry, Officer…”

“Winchester, ma’am,” Dean nodded, not breaking character.

“I’m sorry, Officer Winchester. What complaints are you talking about?” She asked, batting her eyelashes. This was it, she thought.

“One of your neighbors said you’ve been spitting on the sidewalk. And not only is it unfitting of a lady like yourself, it’s also against the law, Miss,” Dean took a step forward, breaching the threshold.

“I’m so sorry, Officer,” she cooed, looking up at him. Even as he took another step closer, she didn’t back up like he expected.

“You’ve also been singing the Alphabet Song at night,” Dean added to her list of complaints.

“I love to sing, Officer Winchester,” she smiled. “I didn’t know singing was against the law.”

“And you entered the home of a law enforcement officer without proper permission. Miss Y/L/N, that is trespassing,” Dean took one more step, closing the gap between them. His uniformed figure just inches from her. She ran her eyes up and down.

“But we’re neighbors, Officer Winchester,” she looked back up at him. “And I brought him pie. He likes my pie.”

“That’s not the point, Miss Y/L/N. You’ve been carrying on with illegal activities for days and I’m here to put an end to it,” Dean reached behind his back for his cuffs. “Unless we can come to some kind of arrangement…”

“Oh Officer Winchester, what kind of arrangement?” Y/N queried, her voice breathy as her lips parted. “I have pie.”

“Oh Miss Y/L/N, I’m not sure pie will be enough to get you out of this predicament,” Dean grabbed her wrist and unfolded the cuffs. He pressed the cold metal to her heated skin.

“If you show me what I can do to get out of this, I promise I’ll learn my lesson, Officer Winchester,” she panted, holding her wrists out for him. “Surely a big strong man like yourself can show me.”

“Oh, I can show you alright, Miss Y/L/N,” Dean slapped the cuffs on one wrist, then the other and led her through the house back to her kitchen. “This looks like it’ll do.”

Dean pushed her forward over the island, her cuffed wrists in front of her. He pressed into her back as he leaned over her. “You ready for your lesson, Miss Y/L/N?” He breath was hot and heavy in her ear.

“Yes!” She shouted. “Officer Winchester, is that a weapon in your pants?”

“Oh sweetheart, I am armed and dangerous,” he growled. He let go of her and walked around the front of the island. It was narrow enough that her hands her hanging over the edge. He uncuffed one of her wrists, wrapped the cuff around the silver handle and recuffed her.

“Oh my god, Dean,” she moaned as a gush of wetness left her throbbing pussy.

“That’s Officer Winchester, Miss Y/L/N,” he corrected her as he walked around the other side of the island, coming to a stop behind her. He undid his utility belt, letting it crash loudly to the floor due to its weight.

She heard the rustling of fabric and the metal of his zipper and swore her pussy was leaking like a sieve. She felt two strong hands on her back as they trailed down her spine and across the swell of her ass up in the air. The touching didn’t stop there. His hands moved over her cheeks and down her thighs until he reached the bottom of her skirt.

A cool breeze blew across the backs of her legs as Dean pulled up the back of her skirt. He whistled low as he admired her backside.

“Christ sweetheart! This all for me? You’re so wet, it’s dripping through your panties,” Dean breathed out heavily. She felt his breath against her thighs and spread them for him as much as she could in her position.

“I do love a man in uniform Officer Winchester. It just turns me on so much, I could come just from you talking to me and wearing that,” she panted, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he whispered. His fingers hooked into the sides of her panties, pulling them down and over the cute little boots she had on. “I can smell you. You smell just as good as those pies you’ve been making me. Now I want to taste your pie.”

Her moans increased as he buried his face in her wanting pussy from behind. At the first drag of his tongue against her sodden hole, she screamed out in pleasure. “Dean!”

“Sweetheart, do you know why they call me the cat whisperer? ‘Cause I know just what your pussy needs,” he licked, his tongue breaching her and sending her into her first orgasm. “Wow. That’s impressive.”

“I told you,” she mumbled against her arm. Her legs were trembling already and he had barely touched her.

“Well, I better try harder,” Dean announced. He walked back around and uncuffed her. He flipped her over and lifted her onto the counter. “Such a beautiful fucking pussy and I’m gonna wreck it.”

His tongue darted out over her outer lips as he slipped two fingers inside her easily. She was tight, but so wet and dripping for him. He pumped gently at first, exploring her both inside and out. Her moans were louder as he flicked her clit from his left and her hips bucked off the counter as he did it over and over. As he circled her swollen nub, he finally reached that sweet spot inside her with his fingers and within no time at all, she was coming again.

“Fuck, Dean! Oh my God!” she cried.

“Fuck me,” Dean panted, his cock hard in his pants.

“Upstairs, now!” Y/N sat up, her pussy dripping all over her counter and down her thighs.

Dean picked her up in one move and took the stairs two at a time.

“Last door on the left,” she pointed and he opened the door. He set her down gently on the bed then stripped out of his pants.

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” Dean confessed, his eyes never leaving hers as she slipped off her boots and skirt, wearing only a sleeveless blouse.

“Oh Officer Winchester, you have got a dirty mouth on you,” she tsked, running her hands up her body, stopping to play with her breasts.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m afraid I do,” Dean agreed. He moved toward her. She opened her legs invitingly as he reached the edge of the bed. “I’m still new here, and I’m not stopping until your legs are shaking and all the neighbors know my name.”

“Dean, I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” she breathed.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” Dean promised, as he removed his pants. She reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“You already have. Please let me,” she reached for his boxers and slipped her slender fingers in the waistband,

“I can’t wait, Y/N. I’ve been dying to get inside that pussy for weeks. Please, there’ll be time for that later,” Dean was on his knees, shrugging out of his uniform shirt.

Y/N pulled her blouse over her head, revealing her lace and satin covered breasts to him. He swallowed loudly and got up off his knees. He picked her up under her arms and moved her to the top of the bed, before settling over top of her, bracing himself on his elbows.

Their eyes met and he crashed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, but wanting. Dean’s lips were softer than she expected, but firm as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Her mouth parted and she slipped between his lips, her tongue seeking his. “Dean.”

“Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” Dean murmured, his lips trailing across her jawline.

“I have an idea. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night. And then there was all the flirting and fuck, I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my life,” she panted between the kisses he bestowed on her. His lips moved further down her neck.

“You make me so hard.”

“I’m so wet for you Dean.”

“Oh Christ.”

Dean’s lips wandered over her collarbone, stopping at the swell of her breast. He reached behind her with one hand and flicked open the clasp. His lips moved to her shoulder, slipping the strap down slowly as he edged on the thunderstorm brewing inside of her. He moved to the other side, mimicking his movements until she was bared to him.

“You’re ravishing,” Dean professed, his eyes roaming her bare body laid out before him.

“Dean, baby, fuck me, please,” she pleaded with him. Her hands moved to his boxers, slipping them down over his hips. She used her feet to remove them, until he too, was bare.

“Yes, God yes,” Dean moved back over her, one hand guiding his cock toward her entrance, but stopped. “Fuck! Condom? I didn’t bring my wallet. I’m sorry.”

“Dresser, top drawer,” she heaved, so close to where she wanted him.

Dean bolted from the bed, ripping open the top drawer of her dresser. It took him no time at all to find what he was looking for and he tore open the package, rolling the rubber over his dick. He was back in her bed and where he really wanted to be.

“You ready for me sweetheart?” Dean looked into her eyes and she nodded. He held her gaze as he slowly pushed inside her wanting hole. “God, you’re so fucking tight!”

She moaned as he finally bottomed out inside of her. “I love the way you fill me up, Dean. Like my pussy was made for you.”

Dean pulled out and pushed back in faster and faster with each pass, growling with intensity. “I’m gonna make this pussy mine.”

“It’s yours Dean, take it!” she sobbed as the storm raged on inside her. With the two orgasms he had already given her, she knew it wouldn’t take her long to reach that edge again.

“Fuck, Y/N! You feel so good,” Dean grunted, his pace increasing as he pounded into her. “Gonna wreck this perfect pussy.”

“Oh my god Dean! I-I’m gonna come. Ohhhhhhhhhh!” her pretty little mouth froze in a perfect o shape, the scream forced out of her under Dean’s thrusts.

“I’m right there, God you feel so good,” Dean groaned as he pulled her leg up to change the angle. He carried her through her release, her walls clenching around him as he found his own. He gave one final pump, stiffening and stilling inside her as he filled the condom. “Fuck.”

After they had given themselves a few moments of rest, Dean rose from the bed, and returned with a warm towel. He cleaned them both up, then crawled into the bed next to her. They were both laying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling.

“I was wondering how long it would take you. How long I would have to sing that stupid fucking song,” she turned her head to look at him.

“It took me a while to figure it out. It was actually Bobby that clued me in. I just thought you were all ‘Girl Interrupted,’ Dean admitted.

“I don’t know what it is about a man in uniform, but it literally does things to me. I can’t explain it,” she confessed.

“I’m sorry about earlier...you know, if I was a little rough with you,” Dean turned to his side, facing her.

“I kinda liked it, Dean. What would you say if I said I was thinking about installing a new bathtub?” she smiled at him.

“I would have to cuff you and read you your rights, Miss Y/L/N,” Dean leaned in and kissed her deeply.

She pulled away for a breath, looking into those deep emerald eyes. “Think we can have a snowball fight this winter?”

“You’re nothing but trouble woman,” Dean laughed. “I should probably get going.”

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” she placed a hand on his arm.

The sun broke through the flimsy curtains in Y/N’s bedroom, filling the room with the bright orange and gold of the sunrise. Dean stirred, burying his head in the pillow, away form the sunlight. The pillow moved, feeling silky under his stubbled cheek. And it smelled of vanilla. “Shit! I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean-”

“Dean, relax, it’s okay. I’m a bit of a cuddler myself. But I should probably ask...post-coital-cuddle-by-accident isn’t against some strange Topeka law is it?” she giggled, wrapping her arm around his waist, she felt his morning wood press into her thigh.

“No, no it isn’t,” Dean breathed in her scent as he pulled her into him.

“Damn, I guess I’m going to have to start breaking real laws now,” she pressed a kiss to his chin.

“I don’t want to have to arrest you for real. How about if I just show up in uniform once a week to take the edge off?” Dean offered.

“What about the other six nights? Can you take the edge off those, too?” She asked.

“I think we can come to some type of arrangement,” Dean agreed, his hips rutting against her.

“I think I’m going to order that new bathtub...the corner one. That’s big enough for two,” she breathed out as his fingers found her core.

“I think I should probably invest in some new cuffs,” Dean claimed her lips with his. They had plenty of time to come up with some type of arrangement.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean  @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99 @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace  @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @kdfrqqg  @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @cherrycokegirls1 @mogaruke @kickingitwithkirk @wotinspntarnation 

The Dean’s List: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @wingedcatninja  @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x  @elara98azalea @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @pretty-fortune @deanwinchesterwitch 

AU Tags: @luci-in-trenchcoats @kayteonline

[thirstyforbishiesimagines]

500 Followers Prompt Event

MASTERLIST

N.B. ALL characters are aged up (18+) as stated in our RULES post

Eugene

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff / Sinful Smut (“Truth or Dare?” “Dare” / “The game is, either of us is only allowed to touch the other with their mouth.”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff / Sinful Smut ("Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home?” / “Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff / Sinful Smut (“Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.” / “Show me where you want to be touched.”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Sorry, did that hurt?” “No, I’m just a little sore from last night.”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff / Sinful Smut (“Does this kiss tickle~? Haha. Why are you laughing so much?” / “I want to kiss every inch of your body before I fuck you,”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Sorry, did that hurt?” “No, I’m just a little sore from last night.”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff (“You’re supposed to be washing my hair, but this feels more like a massage” / “Does this kiss tickle~Haha. Why are you laughing so hard?”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Sinful Smut (“I want to hear you beg for it.” / “Say my name,” “Louder”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Sinful Smut (“The way you smile like that always turns me on,” / “You look so beautiful tied up to my bed.”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Sinful Smut (“I was wondering how long you two were going to make out like that before you realised you weren’t alone.”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff (“I missed being with you like this.“ / “Does this kiss tickle~? Haha. Why are you laughing so much?”)

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff (“Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.” / “Can I have a massage?“)

-  Eugene x Reader x Fluff (“I could not be more happy.”)

-  Eugene x M/Reader x Sinful Smut (“Look at the mirror and tell me what you want.”)

Ethan

-  Ethan x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.” / “Say my name,” “Louder”)

-  Ethan x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Spread your legs. I want to feel how turned on I made you.” / “Blindfolds heighten your senses, no wonder you’re whimpering louder than usual.”)

-  Ethan x M/Reader x Zion x Sinful Smut (“Hmpf! Fine! You guys won’t give me your attention… Oh, HARRRYY!”)

-  Ethan x Reader x Sinful Smut (“I’m fine, Mommy. I’m not that hungry. I just want your milk.”)

Zion

-  Zion x Reader x Eugene x Sinful Smut (“What do you want for breakfast?” “Why are you asking me that at 10 o’clock at night-OH”)

-  Zion x Reader x Fluff (“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”)

-  Zion x Reader x Sinful Smut (Your pussy tastes so sweet,”)

-  Zion x Reader x Sinful Smut (“I want to fulfill that fantasy you’ve always wanted.”)

-  Zion x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Fuck me like a starve animal or leave.”)

-  Zion x Reader x Fluff (“Truth or Dare?” “Dare.”)

-  Zion x Reader x Fluff (“So you were the miraculous that helped us… Should I give you a reward?”)

-  Zion x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Is your father a baker? Cause you have two nice buns.” / “Are you a gun? Cause I’d bang you every day.”)

-  Zion x Reader x Fluff (“Hold my hand tight, I’ll protect you.”)

Harry

-  Harry x Reader x Sinful Smut (“I was wondering how long you two were going to make out like that before you realise you weren’t alone.”)

-  Harry x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Were you touching yourself?”)

-  Harry x Reader x Fluff (“Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”)

-  Harry x N/Reader x Sinful Smut (“Sorry, did that hurt?” “No, I’m just a little sore from last night.” / “Like this school, I’m going to explore every part of your body and mark them.”)

-  Harry x Reader x Sinful Smut (“How cute. You’re wet. Do you want me to clean you up?”)

-  Harry x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Hey Babe, wanna try this nice furniture and play with these toys?”)

-  Harry x Reader x Fluff (“Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”)

-  Harry x Reader x Fluff (“Only I can make your face like this. Nobody else. Okay?”)

-  Harry x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”)

-  Harry x Reader x Sinful Smut (“I’m not wearing any panties.”)

Lawrence

-  Lawrence x Reader x Fluff (“Truth or Dare?” “Dare.” / “I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.”)

-  Lawrence x Reader x Fluff (“No one else can compare to your loveliness.”)

-  Lawrence x Reader x Sinful Smut (“You look beautiful tied up to my bed,” / “Blindfolds heighten your senses, maybe that’s why you’re whimpering louder than usual.”)

-  Lawrence x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Call me ‘sir’ when we’re alone like this,” / “Spread your legs. I want to feel how turned on I made you.”)

-  Lawrence x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Were you just touching yourself?”)

-  Lawrence x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Spread your legs. I want to feel how turned on I made you.” / “You’re nipples are so sensitive today,”)

-  Lawrence x Reader x Sinful Smut (“Either fuck me till I can’t walk or I’ll find someone else to do the job.”)

-  Lawrence x Reader x Fluff (“Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”)

[titaniumrode]

Lawrence x Reader thing

It's been days since Judy disappeared. Every moment you spend in the classroom you used to share with her feels like torture. What went wrong? You finally met someone you used to know, you finally had a friend. And what? She just.....vanished? It was hard for you to accept. Everything was getting to be too much. Scarlett was always yelling at you, believing that you were guilty.

It's too much. You feel so empty. You're alone again, in that classroom you used to share. Sitting in that classroom you can feel the loneliness crushing you. It feels like you are going to go insane. You sigh. Then, all of a sudden you remember what Lawrence had said to you, right after Judy went missing. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be here."

You spent a while contemplating, but eventually made up your mind. You were going to go to Lawrence's room. You didn't want to be alone anymore. Slowly, so no noise could be heard, you slid open your door and crept out into the hallway. While on the short walk to Lawrence's classroom you thought about how abandoned everything looked. To some degree it looked like how a normal school would at this time of day. It makes you remember the time when you and a friend snuck into your old school. You both walked around the hallways, made jokes, broke into people's lockers. The thought made you giggle a bit. Until you once again were hit with the sad truth, nothings normal anymore, it's all ruined. You wonder about what ever happened to them. Were they okay? You prayed that they were.

You approached Lawrence's room. The sight of it washed away all the horrible thoughts you had. You took a deep breath and lightly knocked on the door. As quietly as you could( with him actually having to hear it inside his room) you whispered, "Lawrence?"

After a few moments you heard stirring inside the room. The door soon opened. Before you was Lawrence, his hair messy (messier than usual at least) and his glasses a bit crooked. You had never seen him so disheveled. You giggled a bit. Noticing your laughter, Lawrence straightened his glasses and gave you a kind smile. "Mc...What brings me the pleasure of you coming here?"

Oh jeez, that damned smile. You could feel your heart racing already. Fumbling over your words a bit , but somehow managing to form a sentence you say, “Uhhh, well remember that time you said you'd always be there for me to speak with?”

Lawrence seemed a bit confused but nodded, “Yeah?”

“Well… I really don’t want to be alone right now and I think that I need someone to talk to. I’m sorry if I woke you, you really don’t have to say yes.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren’t nervous right now. You had said he didn’t have to say yes, but let’s face it. How were you going to survive if he says no? Your anxiety was going through the roof now . Calm down, calm down. It’s going to be okay . You looked at Lawrence's face, surprised to see that he looked thrilled. Happiness coloring his voice he responded with, “It's fine, I'd love to chat with you. It’s my duty as the leader after all. “

You let out a sigh of relief. See? It's fine. Nothing to get worked up over. Lawrence stepped aside so you could enter the room. Walking through the doorway you saw that his classroom wasn’t that different from your own. There was a table in the center of the room that had a blanket laid on it and all the desks were pushed to the back of the room. After thinking about it for a bit you decided to walk over to the table and sit on it. You could feel warmth coming from it, so you assumed that Lawrence was laying there before you came along. You could feel Lawrence's eyes on you. You looked up to meet his eyes and motioned him to sit with you. Soon enough, Lawrence was sitting on the table with you.

“So, do you have anything in particular you need to talk about?” Lawrence asked, his voice soft and calming.

“Hmmmm, Why don’t we ask each other questions? So we can get to know each other a bit better. I feel like we never get any opportunities to talk.” You gave a small smile.

Lawrence smiled a bit more in response. “Yeah sounds good. Do you wanna go first?”

“Sure. How about- What do you wanna do when you get older? Whenever the world is back to normal?”

Lawrence let out a small laugh, “I want to be baker!”

“Woah! That’s super cool! Hehe, I love sweets so I'm sure I’d like anything you make.”

It was true. You absolutely loved treats. Your mom used to make pastries when you were younger. They were always yummy and it made you happy that you got to spend time with her. The thought of your mom brought your mood soaring but then quickly it fell. Was your mom even okay? You had promised that you would eat with her the day this had all started. The day the apocalypse started. Suddenly it was too much, you could feel the tears start to fall down your cheeks.

Lawrence looked shocked and concerned as he asked you what was wrong. You couldn’t find it in yourself to even reply. You just kept sobbing. Suddenly your vision went dark and you felt a warmth around you. It took you a second to realize that Lawrence had pulled you into his arms. Even though you’d usually been embarrassed, you were honestly lacking the warmth of another person. When’s the last time you’ve been hugged? You started settling yourself into Lawrence's warm embrace. Lawrence soothingly started to run your hair through his fingers. You could slowly feel yourself start to calm down, and eventually you feel asleep that way. Quietly, Lawrence whispered to you, “I love you.”

[logancreatesworlds]

Paradise - (Angel!Spencer Reid x black!reader)

Author’s Note:  AUs are my thing.  Do I even have to explain?  I swear God keeps sending me ideas. 🤣💡❤

Warning: Strong religious references.

Disclaimer:  None of the images are mine.

Luke 23:43

And He said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise."

It was in the year 2035 that the world had officially gone to shit.  

Surprisingly, it wasn’t because of global warming or war caused by greedy politicians, but rather by the very God that many claimed to love.

Lucifer always said that God loved humans more than him.  Yet, the world had ended not in a ball of fire, but by flaming rays of light.

The Almighty God had finally had enough of his own creation.

First, it started in France, England and Western Europe with the water turning to blood and getting most of the people deathly ill with HIV.

The presidents and dictators could not stop it.

Then, it spread to Russia and eastern Europe, where frogs and lice invaded everything and destroyed the livestock and crops.

The farmers could not prevent it.

After that, it came to lower and southeast Asia, and the livestock either got attacked by their own livestock or were murdered by its diseased meat.

The people could not counteract it.

Next, it hit Australia and Oceania, covering the entire place in darkness and raising swarms of locusts to attack the people - conveniently murdering the first sons of all the families first before moving onto the rest and leaving them with venomous boils.

Nobody could repress it.

And finally, it attacked the Americas, plummeting and freezing the South in snow and hail and then torching the North in heat and fire.

Nothing could avert it.

The only place spared from God’s seven-day wrath was Africa, the Motherland.

Perhaps all those stories your mother told you about being a part of God’s chosen people was true after all.

Or more likely, you were just lucky - for now.

You were packing your bags, planning to return back to Houston, Texas after your vacation.

A graduation present from your uncle.

The next thing you know, you’re watching monks in Myanmar get rammed by raging bulls and French people scratch their heads so hard that they destroy their scalps on the news.

You had been in Cairo at the time.

The last words your mother had said to you over the phone were ones of warning.

“We are living in our last days.  Stay there for just a few more weeks and then come home to me when it’s safe.”

But it wasn’t safe.

Houston was one of the first places to burn.  

No amount of firefighters could put the flames out and everyone who tried to flee - quite literally, combusted.

Your mom was gone.

The scientists who were lucky enough to live estimated the the “Plagues” had killed off about sixty-five percent of the population.

Most of the other thirty-five percent were hunted down and shot to bits in blinding light by beings with golden wings.

They called them The Seraphim, the Burning Ones.

They were not friendly, nor were they gentle, and they chopped off the heads of every human they saw until God himself started assigning them people to spare.

One morning you had woken up with a G��burned into your right arm.

After the angels had broken into the army barracks you had fled to for safety and cleansed the place of its human inhabitants, you figured out that that G stood for Genesis - the first book of the Bible.

Soon you were herded along with the other ‘G’s into a strange settlement.

The buildings were perfectly made of hard stone and sanded white.  

The gravel streets were quiet and desolate. The gravel streets were quiet and desolate. 

The golden sun shined over all of it.

“Forward!” An angel commanded, pushing you towards it all.

The angels then backed up, and a large wall magically blocked them from view.

You and the others looked around confused as you all wandered further into the strange land.

No one was there.  No one.

What was going on?

The only thing that provided explanation to the question was a stone plaque in the middle of the town’s main square.

As the all of you got closer to it, golden letters burned into its hard surface.

To the people of Paradise, heed these commandments.  

1.  Thou shall not try to leave.

2. Thou shall not steal.

3.  Thou shall not eat any of the blessed foods.

4.  Thou shall not create or dabble in new invention.

5.  Thou shall not marry another unless granted permission by the Holy Union.

6.  Thou shall give The Burning Ones tribute on the first of every spring.

7.  Thou shall worship God and only God.  

The rules were simple.  Still, people found it in themselves to be naturally disobedient.  But they didn’t last long.

"That’s it!”  An angry older man huffed, “I’m going!”

“Mister Coleman you can do that-”

“Enough!” Coleman snapped, “I’m a professor, and I say that this had got to be a prank.  You all can stay if you want, but I’m getting out of here.”

Professor Lawrence Coleman then walked up to the wall and started to climb.

Then...

THWOOP!

A loud scream ripped from you and a the others as a shining gold arrow ripped through Coleman’s trachea.  His body began to glow and then...ash.

Looking up, you saw the thing that had ended him.

A Seraphim floated above with emotionless air, his wings flapping as he spoke with authority.

“The commandments are clear and true,” the being spoke, “You are now servants of the Lord himself.  Disobey his word?  You die just as this wretch did.”

Even after Coleman’s deaths, people still tried to escape.

After about fifteen of them tried and failed, people started rebelling in other ways.

Some ate sugar, meat and spices, others tried to craft weapons to kill The Burning Ones...

Many died.

Soon, only thirty of you remained.

March 20th

Year 11

You sighed softly as you collected water from the well before carrying it through the courtyard.

This was your life now.  

Slowly, people settled into their new lives in Paradise.  Some became bakers, other farmers.  You?  You were ordained to be a nun in the convent.

Rape was illegal so you did not have to worry about covering your woolly hair, and the only people you saw on the regular were the other nuns and the children.

Your role was to teach them the word of God, and you knew what would happen to you if you did not play your role.

“Boker Tov Miss (Y/N),” little Alice greeted with a toothless grin as you came into the dining room.

“Boker Tov Alice,” you replied, placing the water on the table, “Ready for breakfast?”

“Mhmm,” she replied.

“Glad you could finally make it,” Miss Winifred - the oldest, said as placed hot bread and fresh milk onto the table, “We were starving.  Come along ladies, let us get alone with prayer.”

It was the rule that everyone in Paradise had to say eight prayers a day:  one in the morning, two before and after breakfast, lunch and dinner respectively and one at night.

This was the second prayer.

Later that morning, you sighed softly as you plucked fresh raspberries off their trellises and placed them in a basket.

Thank the Lord the rains had been frequent, lest your tribute would have been rendered inadequate and you obsolete.

Today was The Day of Babel.

Every March 20th the people of Paradise were commanded to bring gifts to the Main Church to please the Seraphim who watched over and protected them.

Tribute...

Each person was assigned one Seraphim per year and the cycle rotated.

This year, you were assigned to give a gift to the Seraphim called Spencer.

“You think he’ll like it?”  Constance, your only friend, asked as she held the basket for you.  

“He shall have to,” you replied seriously before dumping two handfuls of berries in, “Or else I shall be raptured.”

The people of Paradise knew what that term meant, raptured.  

To you, it was foolish to pretend the friends you had watched be burned before your eyes were somewhere in heaven with God, but you decided to be sympathetic and go along with the delusion.

Sometimes it is better to believe a happy lie than to acknowledge the painful truth.

“Come,” you said, “We mustn't be late.”

After about a thirty minute walk, you made it to the square.  Everyone else was walking to the church silently.

It was always easy for you to pick out the newer people, the younger ones who were not used to wrathful Gods and fiery angels.  

The most scared-looking ones were always the children.

Soon, everyone was inside.

On the main stage stood several golden plates.  Each plates stood for one Seraphim that was to come.  

One by one, an angel appeared - their wings shining and their eyes glowing.

Then, your moment of truth arrived.

A blinding ray of light shined down on the last plate.

When it disappeared, there he was.

“Praised be to the Burning Ones,” you greeted with a bow, the other behind you following suit, “We humbly receive thine greatness.”

The Seraphim stepped off the golden plate and stood in front of you.

“Thank you.  Now, let us see what have brought me.”

Steadying your hand, you held out the small basket of raspberries.

Spencer gave a pleased smile, “Berries, my favorite.  Thank you.”

Everyone followed behind you, presenting their gifts.

With interest, you took notice of how Spencer accepted each gift with grace and kindness, giving a thank you to each person.

Then, it was little Alice’s turn.

“Hello,” Spencer greeted, getting down on one knee and looking her in the eyes.

Alice did as you both had rehearsed.

“Praised be unto you,” Alice replied with a little bow.

“And unto you, little one.  What have you brought for me?”

“W-well, it’s not perfect but I...I drew you a picture.”

With two little hands, she handed it to him.

You held your breath.

If he didn’t like it...

“This is the best gift I have ever received,” Spencer said, “Thank you Alice.”

You breathed out a small sigh of relief.  You would all make it another year.

That night, you couldn’t sleep and decided to step out to get some fresh air to help you relax.

The wind blew slightly through your fro as you clenched your robe tighter around you to keep warm.

The streets were desolate, silent.  The only light out besides the lanterns on the doors was the moon.

This wasn’t the only night you had left the convent.

After more than ten years in Paradise, you...were getting sick of Paradise.

It was always the same routine: get up, pray, eat, pray some more...

What was the meaning of life now?

To obey, you huffed to yourself, It’s always to obey.

Soon, you made it to to the forest and as routine dictated, to the small clearing half a mile out.

You were so tired of it all - the praying, the obeying...

Still, what could you do about it?  Nothing.

“Meaningless,” you muttered to yourself.

“Nature is never meaningless.”

You whipped around at the voice.  

“Relax,” the familiar figure soothed, gliding out of the darkness, “It is only I.”

“Spencer,” you greeted, bowing, “What a lovely surprise.”

“Do not lie, (Y/N),” Spencer replied, his wings gently flapping as he floated, “I know you do not welcome my presence.  No one here does.  Not truly.”

“Then why are you here?”

The angel landed and shrugged.

“You interest me,” he replied, “Even if you hold everyone together, yet you yourself are falling apart.”

“I am not falling apart,” you growled, “I will never break.”

Spencer smirked, “Wrath is a deadly sin.”

“So is arrogance and yet that did not stop you.”

Spencer laughed, “You are something (Y/N), something indeed.  On the outside, there is this smooth cocoa brown shell of humility and penitence.  But on the inside, there is a blazing fire waiting to burn.”

“Then it is probably best to ignite me-”

Your retort was stopped short when Spencer pulled you to him, smashing your lips towards his in an illicit kiss.

Once you snapped out the trance his lips had put you under, you did the only thing a self-respecting woman would do.

SLAP!

Spencer held his cheek, his eyes wide with pleasant shock as you stood there fuming.

“You...you slapped me.”

“Yes, I did.  Were you expecting a different reaction?”

“From you?  No.  But I could rapture you for that.”

“You won’t.”

“You are right.  I won’t.  You are different from the other humans.  You are real.”

“You consider me real for slapping you?”

“I consider you real for standing up for yourself.  You are fierce, strong, and you stand firm in what you wish to achieve.  I like that.”

You stood there puzzled.

“Listen,” he spoke, “I agree with you.  This life is meaningless.  Paradise is lost.  The honey is hardened and the milk is sour.  This...holy project is a farce.”

“And what makes you think I dislike Paradise?”

“Your body language.  You walk around with your arms crossed and your eyes blazing.  You want to be free.”

“So what if if I did?”

“I want to be free with you.  A bunch of us do.”

“Us?”

“Seraphim, some close friends of mine.  We used to live for guiding humans to Christ, not burning them for straying form the path we set.  Sure you humans failed many times but there was always brave souls like you who got it right.  Paradise is dead.”

“Well...what do you propose we do about it?”

“Escape.”

“Escape?  That’s your brilliant plan, oh great Seraphim?  Even you must know that there is no escape from Paradise.”

“Then we shall make one.”

“And say your colleagues catch you, what then?  I will be raptured and you will be sent to Hell.”

“God only watches this place periodically.  I have a contact who guards his throne.  She tells me so.  If we time everything right, we can leave for good.”

You sighed.

You weren’t really going to-

“I’m in,” you answered. 

God no.

“Excellent.”

You seriously were partnering with your designated angel to break God’s rules.

Great.

December 24th

Year 11

“And you are sure this sword is gonna get us out?”  You asked.

“You have been asking that for months,” Spencer replied, wrapping his lithe arms around your waist and kissing the back of your head, “Yes I’m sure.”

“Sorry,” you mocked, “Just checking.”

“Don’t worry,” Spencer soothed, speaking into your hair, “We shall all be free soon.”

This intimacy between the two of you had become commonplace ever since October.  Apparently devising a plan to be free from God’s tyranny is a good foundation for a relationship.

“I will defy God for freedom, but I would die for you,” Spencer had said once.

Just like the other angels, Spencer had an arrogant and prideful side to him.  But he was also kind, clever and - to your surprise, very intelligent.

A Seraphim and human in love?  Go figure.

“Where will we go?”

“Anywhere,” Spencer replied, “The plagues are gone so we can head towards Europe. Or we can go to America.  I will carry you all the way there if need be.”

“Will it be worth it?  Is there anything out there for us?”

Spencer shrugged, “Who knows?  But at least it will be up to us to discover.  I am done being God’s puppet.  From now on, we shall have the freedom to live as we please.”

That was the goal.  Freedom.

December 24th

11:50 PM

You waited anxiously in the daisy fields. 

Constance, Alice and Miss Winifred had each split up and talked to the others, to see if they wanted to leave.

You had wanted to ask them sooner, but Spencer assured you it was too dangerous and that another Seraphim would surely catch you.

Everything had to be perfectly timed.

“Psst.”

You looked over to see Constance, Alice and Miss Winifred.

“You made it.”

“Yes,” Constance said, “We did.”

“And the others?”

Miss Winifred shook her head disappointingly, “They were too afraid.”

You sighed.

Can’t save everybody.

Quickly, you shook it off.

“It’s fine,” you replied, “Let’s go.”

Swiftly, you led your three companions to a hard spot in the dirt and cleaned the spot off as quickly as possible.

“What is that?”

“A seal,” you replied, “It’s the only other way out of this place.  The Seraphim use it to enter and leave Paradise.”

Gently, you took the blade of the sword and stuck it into the seal’s one small hole.  Magically, the sword’s handle glowed and the seal opened, revealing a dark tunnel.

“Let’s go,” you said.

Soon, you were in the tunnel. 

“I thought you said he was coming too,” Constance said petulantly.

“I am.”

The four of you squeal when a lantern flickered on in the darkness, revealing Spencer’s face.

“You have got to stop doing that,” you mumbled as Spencer kissed your cheek.

“Sorry Ahuvati,” He replied.

“Wait you two are...together?” 

Spencer nodded, “Since October.”

“Have you fucked yet?”  Miss Winifred asked.

“Jesus Wini,” You huffed, “Alice is right here, and no - we have not.”

“There shall be plenty of time to discuss our relationship later,” Spencer said, taking his sword from you, “Right now we’ve gotta move.” 

Unsure of what was outside, you followed him.

Who knows?  Maybe there was nothing out there.  Maybe there was an opportunity to start over.

Either way, the choice would be yours and no one else’s.

Goodbye Paradise.

Author’s Note: Aaaaand that’s all folks!  I know this one was bit different but I really worked hard on it.  Comment and let me know what you think!

@shinyanchorface  @tenaciousarcadeexpert  @naturally-bri  @suz-123  @dontshootmespence  @cynbx  @girl-x-wonder-x-reid  @lovepeacehappinessalluneed  @princesswagger15  @confused-and-really-hungry  @lyricsstories  @dreatine  @siriuslycollins  @darkfaethedestroyer  @jackiethedreamer243  @hekaates  @yourfavoritefavorite  @storage-space-running-out  @blackwatershipper  @fandom-rpblog  @witchiewinchester

[waywardnerd67]

SPN Fluff Bingo Masterlist

Below the cut is the summaries for my SPN Fluff Bingo Card

Twirling in Love – Jared x Reader Summary: (Y/N)’s friends decided to sign her up for dance lessons to get her out of the house after a bad break-up. After begrudgingly going to her first lesson she finds her teacher to be a handsome man who is similarly going through the same thing.

Deep Down – Dean x Reader Summary: Dean and Sam call on (Y/N) to help them with a case in her hometown. When things going terribly wrong, Dean is faced with feelings he had buried deep down from when they were kids.

Mystery Girl – Jensen x Reader Summary: Working his way through college, Jensen works at the campus bookstore in between studying and playing baseball. When (Y/N) comes in to the bookstore, Jensen ends up in between a rock and a hard place.

Not What It Seems – Misha x Reader Summary: Having enough of Jensen and Jared’s pranks, Misha asks (Y/N) to help him get back at them.

Saving Me – Jensen x Reader Summary: (Y/N) has relapsed back into a dark place. As she makes one final decision fate steps in with a hero to save her.

Forever and Beyond – Sam x Reader Summary: Sam met (Y/N) during one of the darkest times in his life. Through the good and bad, she stood by his side. Now, he wants the one thing he never believe he could have.

Team Free Will – No Pairing Summary: (Y/N) is the new kid at Lawrence High School. When a few of the popular kids decide that it’s their mission to make her sophomore year the worst one yet a group steps in to help her out.

Wild and Free – Dean x Reader Summary: Before the birth of his first child, Dean decides to take (Y/N) on a road trip to fulfill some items on their bucket list.

A Place to Call Home – Sam x Reader Summary: Sam is trying to balance studying for the California Bar Exam and his relationship with (Y/N). When (Y/N) is at her wits in he suggests something that he never had before in his life.

Stand of Fate – Jared x Reader Summary: (Y/N) just moved to Austin with her son who is constantly get made fun of for his long hair at his new school. She decides to take him to Austin’s most popular barber shop The Moose.

Crash – Sam x Reader Summary: (Y/N) is involved in a serious car accident involving a celebrity. Now she must find a lawyer to help her with a settlement. She never figured that one of the worst days of her life would lead to what she had always dreamed of having.

The One Who Got Away – Jensen x Reader Summary: Jensen has a new student starting in his eighth-grade social studies class. After a rough start he decides to have a conference with her mom who ends up being the one girl he let slip through his fingers.

Coffee Mate – Dean x Reader Summary: (Y/N) begins working at Family Business Coffee Shop after moving to Sioux Falls to escape her life in New York. Instantly she is adopted into misfit family and tries to avoid the feelings that are developing for the owner’s eldest son.

Weather the Storm – Jensen x Reader Summary: Jensen takes a job as a new rancher with one of the largest farms in Dallas. When he meets (Y/N) another worker on the farm he cannot help but fall for her instantly.

Woman of the Water – Dean x Reader Summary: Dean is taking some R&R when he finds a woman hurt on a beach in Maine. Finding her takes him and his brother on a whirlwind adventure in a whole new world of the Supernatural.    

Inside My Mind – Jensen x Reader Summary: (Y/N) has been best friends with Jared since they were kids, always escaping from her harsh home life. When she meets his co-star the three of them become inseparable. That friendship would take her on a journey of healing from a past she desperately wanted to forget.

Winchester Curse – Sam x Reader Summary: Sam and Dean meet up with a new hunter that has been staying with Jody and the other Wayward Daughters. At first, it seems to Sam that Dean and she have hit off, but he cannot help the feelings building up inside him. Determined he is cursed to never have what he desires he pushes her away. Will (Y/N) be able to provide Sam’s theory wrong or will she end up the next victim of the Winchester curse.

Firefly – Dean x Reader Summary: (Y/N) adopts a cat whose previous owners were murdered. When strange things start happening around the cat she calls on the one person she swore to never speak to again.

Eternity – Castiel x Reader Summary: (Y/N) has suffered from horrible anxiety and panic attacks all her adult life. Trying to overcome her panic, she pushes herself to far and ends up being saved by an angel. Together they find the are tied to one another is more ways than they could have ever dreamed of.

Light in the Dark – Misha x Reader Summary: Being a paramedic, Misha would see the worst in humanity. When he meets (Y/N), she in one of the darkest moments of her life. Can they both help each other heal from the darkness they have experience?

You and Me – No Pairing Summary: (Y/N) takes a walk down memory lane as she flies up to celebrate her best friend’s 40th birthday.

Love and Ink – Sam x Reader Summary: (Y/N) gets hired on at a local tattoo shop in Lawrence, Kansas where she meets the Winchesters. When she gets into an accident, (Y/N) must rely on Sam to help her with her clients. Working closely with him brings up feelings she promised herself she would never have again.

Bedtime – Dean x Reader Summary: Dean and (Y/N) are babysitting his nephew and he decides to read him some of his favorite bedtime stories.

Heavenly Treats – Castiel x Reader Summary: (Y/N) is writing an article on a world-famous bakery that is in Lebanon, Kansas. When a blizzard comes through snowing her in the small town, (Y/N) gets to see truly how special the bakery and the baker are.

Obsessed – Dean x Reader Summary: (Y/N) is filming a documentary on Dean Winchester, the newest rising star in rock music. During her time on his tour she finds a fan who is following him from city to city. When she approaches him and his manager/brother, they both dismiss her and end their contract with her film. Will she be able to convince Dean his life is in danger before something bad happens?

[fanfic-from-a-67-impala]

Bad Terms (Part One)

Characters: middle sister!Reader, Dean, Sam, a medical examiner, a waitress

Word Count: 3602

Summary: Requested by anonymous: Can you please do a oneshot where You and brother dean are constantly at each other’s throats till he/or you get caught by a djin and get saved by the others and like you and Dean hug for the first time in over a year?

Warnings: estranged sibling angst, Lawrence house fire angst, reader likes girls (which isn't really a warning), cliffhanger

A/N: I don’t think I’m supposed to say this, but this is my favorite request so far. Part one of two for this request.

You were always scared of the dark.

It’s why the why the soft flickering glow from the crack under your door, for the last few peaceful moments of your life, comforted you. There, in your bedroom – the one up the stairs, the first door on the left, right next to Sam’s, right across the hall from Dean’s – your small, two-year-old hands inched your blanket down so you could peek out from behind it.

When you caught a whiff of smoke, though, a tingle of fear settled into the pit of your stomach.

“Mommy!” you yell.

Laying still, sweat forming on your forehead, you waited for her to burst through the door, as she had so many times before when you’d had a nightmare or heard a strange noise. But she doesn’t come.

Instead, you heard a scream. You heard crashing, bounding footfalls. Then, the roaring and crackling of a fire. Your dad shouting.

You didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, until your door creaked open. Your eyes, trained on where your mom should be, instead darted down to where your big brother, Dean, waited with the baby Sam in his arms.

“Dad says we have to go, (Y/N),” he shouted over the fire. “Come on. We have to go.”

You slid out from under your covers and toddled over to where he stood. You left your room, standing back to memorize its place up the stairs, first door on the left, before following him down the steps and out the front door, but not before catching a terrifying glimpse of the fire swallowing Sam’s room.

Your thirty-three-year-old self stands in a blazer and a button-down, surrounded by chatter and indistinct police radio, when you spot the tall man in a suit across the wall of metal slabs, flashing a badge to the medical examiner. And, for some reason, that night – the night of the fire – consumes your mind.

His eyes flicker over your head, then snap back to you, questioning.

It can’t be him, you think. He’s too tall, too grown-up, his eyes have seen too much.

His lips form your name, though, as he crosses the buzzing room separating you. It’s not until you’ve pulled him down into your arms (you have to pull him down this time), not until the chatter, the corpses, everything has disappeared, that you allow yourself to believe it’s him.

“Sammy,” you whisper.

He embraces you tightly, so tightly you can feel his heartbeat against yours. It feels familiar but all kinds of different at the same time.

After not nearly long enough, you pull away. “Ah, let me look at you!”

His eyes are still wide with shock, but he lets you hold his hands out to the side and step back to examine him.

You push aside the sharp twinge in your chest and instead let relief flood your heart with the knowledge that he’s alive.

He glances down, a light blush rising to his cheeks.

“You grew out your hair,” you tease, twirling the strands in your fingers. “You look good, Sam.”

His face softens. “Thanks, (Y/N). You’re looking good, too. What’s it been – like, thirteen years?”

“Closer to fourteen, yeah,” you agree. “Not since–”

“Stanford.”

“You’re right. It’s been–” you clear your throat after your voice breaks– “it’s been a while.”

“I don’t really know where to start,” he admits. “We didn’t… we didn’t even know if you were alive.”

You nod, ducking your head in apology. “I guess a low profile’s one of the perks of, you know, not saving the world everyday.”

“You heard about that, huh?” he mutters.

“A lot of people have,” you say. “Makes it easier to keep tabs on you.”

“That right?”

The figure behind Sam creeps into focus. He makes the same confident strides he’s always made toward you before coming to an abrupt stop next to his brother.

“No, please, go on,” he remarks. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Dean,” Sam warns.

“Sammy, stay out of this one.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Actually, Sam, don’t bother. You two obviously have things covered here. I’m moving on.”

“Deserting your family again,” Dean says. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Consider it an act of mercy. I'll even leave that pretty face of yours intact this time,” you add.

He clenches his jaw as you imagine he recalls your last encounter. In fact, you can't remember the last time the two of you were in the same room that didn't end in at least one of you with a broken bone.

As you turn to leave, Sam catches your arm. “(Y/N), wait. Dean…” he pleads.

The air between you and Dean chills, your glaring lines of sight freezing over. Before the two of you can disintegrate each other, Sam steps in front of you, blocking your sight.

He throws his arms out to the side and drops them. “Will you just… tell me what happened to you two?”

“This isn’t exactly a new thing,” you reply. “We’ve been at each other’s throats since before I can remember.”

“But you could always work together. I don’t understand what happened there.”

“I left, as I’m sure you’ve heard,” you say.

“She made her choice, Sam,” Dean sneers. “We came to work the case. Let’s work the case.”

He tugs on Sam’s shoulder, but Sam shrugs him off, tilting his head at him. Dean responds with a firm stare, but it withers and reduces to a conceding eye roll.

Sam turns to you again. “One case. Please.”

You glance at Dean, who avoids your eyes, before dragging your gaze to Sam again.

“You know, that thing–” you wag a finger around his face– “that wide-eyed puppy dog thing you’ve got going on?”

He chuckles and shrugs.

“It’s still not freaking fair,” you groan.

“Something we agree on,” Dean says. “Now do we have more feelings to feel, or can we get to the body?”

“All right,” you sigh, extending an arm in the direction of the lab-coated woman across the room. “Your lead.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

You glance between the two brothers, examining the way they move with each other, even during an argument. You don’t underestimate their bond, or the disadvantage it leaves you at as an outsider.

“Unless you want to spend more time discussing it,” you snap at him.

He raises a hand in surrender before continuing on to the doctor.

“Agents,” she greets. “What can I do for you?”

“Hey, doc. I’m Special Agent Clapton. These–” he gestures to you and Sam– “are Special Agents Baker and Bruce. We’re investigating the John Doe with the jelly insides.”

“Cream puff guy?” she says.

You stifle a laugh, but she notices and smirks in your direction.

“Sure thing, agents.” She leads you to the wall with the metal doors and pulls one open, sliding out the slab with a massive, swollen body laid atop it. “Appetizing, isn’t it?”

You mumble in agreement.

“We haven’t done the autopsy yet,” she explains. “The chief wants to run the corpse through some forensic radiological imaging before we perform any extractions.”

“People speak, doc,” you request.

She laughs. “Basically, we cut into him now – Vesuvius. We’re going to run some tests, take an x-ray, and then we’ll take a giant syringe and draw out the… jelly.”

“Now, what do you know so far?” Sam asks.

“They found the guy in the park, no ID and no one else around. I don’t have cause of death yet, but we did find something interesting.”

You tilt your head to watch as she lifts the shoulder of the body, revealing a large blue handprint. “We swabbed it, but nothing came up. It’s almost like it’s tattooed on there.”

“When do you think those lab results will be ready?” you ask.

“We’ll put a rush on it. Have it ready for you in a couple hours,” she answers.

You nod. “Thank you.”

She holds your gaze a little longer while she gathers some papers before crossing the room again to leave. “He’s all yours, agents.”

You turn away from the boys’ direction until you feel the blush in your cheeks cool.

Dean taps Sam’s arm. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That someone’s got the hots for (Y/N),” Sam teases.

“One of the perks of not actually being a fed,” you say. “There’s no one to tell you you can’t hook up with the cute M.E.’s.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Sammy?” Dean says.

Sam rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably.

You shoot him a proud beam. “Wow, remind me to ask about that one later. In the meantime, what is it you were thinking?”

“Djinn,” they respond at the same time.

“Djinn? Since when do djinn liquefy their victims?”

“There’s an offshoot,” Dean explains. “We caught one of these last year.”

“Now all that’s left is to find out where it’s staying and kill it,” Sam states.

You nod. “Easy enough, right? How many tattooed, blue-eyed, pasty-skinned freaks can be running around this town?”

They exchange a glance.

“They’re not tattooed, blue-eyed, and pasty-skinned, are they?” you frown.

“That’s the thing – they can pass as humans,” Sam notes.

“We’re going down to the station to check out the missing persons in town. Why don’t you stay here with your… girlfriend… and wait for those results?” Dean suggests.

“Or you could come up with a better excuse for getting me out of the way.”

He draws back from your comment, but then shrugs. “All right. How about the last one of these we worked, it turned out to be the coroner?”

You turn to Sam, who nods. Out the small window of the swinging doors, the doctor reaches across the counter to hand a file to the receptionist who greeted you earlier.

“You think it’s her?”

“I’m not thinking anything yet,” Dean says. “So, you good here?”

You nod.

As Dean leaves through the same swinging doors, Sam sucks in a breath, which he sighs out again. “Wow.”

“What?” you prod.

“Nothing, just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “If he thought I was so much as looking at someone we might have to kill, he’d never leave me alone with her.”

“Well, I always was the detached one. Maybe that’s part of why he hates me.”

“Or maybe it’s why he wants to hate you.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Sam!” Dean calls, propping the door open. “You coming or what?”

Sam follows him out the door, sending a small wave in your direction.

The doctor – Doctor Elizabeth Finch, you learn – performs the autopsy and has the results to you before lunch. Pouring rain splatters the parking lot as you walk across, clutching the folder against your chest. You reach the diner and spot the boys in a corner booth.

“Hey,” you greet, sliding into the bench next to Sam.

“That it?” Dean nods to the folder you dump on the table.

“The autopsy report of one John Doe,” you confirm.

“Not anymore,” Sam states. “The guy’s name was Karl Sanders.”

“You ID’d him?”

“He’s an attorney from a town in the next state over,” Dean says.

You shake your head. “This is making less and less sense.”

“What do you mean?”

You flip open the folder and point tap a point on the first page. “The doctor found trace particles of wood and lividity marks from a paneled surface. She thinks it’s from finished wood from some kind of structure.”

Dean frowns. “So, what the hell is going on here?”

“Beats me.”

“What else did she get from the body?” Sam asks.

“It looks like he died of a fever. The creamy filling was essentially his melted internal organs.”

“Oh, perfect timing,” Sam says. He eyes the waitress who carries three plates of food over to your table.

“All right, we’ve got the double bacon cheeseburger…” she announces, “Cobb salad… and a BLT, extra bacon for the lady. Enjoy.”

Her words, the sight of the sandwich she places in front of you, hurl you back in time. Suddenly, being here with your brothers, sitting in the same greasy diner every town has, doesn’t feel foreign at all.

“Wow,” you breathe. “I haven’t had one of these in ages.”

Sam shifts in his seat. He must have remembered from all those years ago that it was the only thing you ever ordered. The thought warms your heart.

“I, uh, just kind of assumed,” he says. “We can get you something else if–”

“It’s perfect, Sam. Thank you.”

He offers you a shy smile, barely meeting your eyes before turning to his salad.

You clear your throat. “If we’re still liking the doctor for this, I’m on board.”

“Why’s that?”

“Apparently, she does a lot of travelling, works all over as a forensic pathology consultant,” you repeat what she told you. “And besides, no one that interesting becomes an M.E. for the hell of it.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “If you think she’s so sketchy, why trust her autopsy?”

“I got a couple other doctors’ opinions without her knowing. They all agree.”

“We checked her out, too. Red flags everywhere. No family, no permanent address.”

“The gig makes it easy to cover up her kills,” Sam adds, “and the liquefied organs lines up with what we know about this kind of djinn.”

“We should track her down, find out what her deal is,” Dean suggests.

You bite your lip. “Well–” you pull out a business card, a room number of the hotel where she’s staying scrawled on the back– “I’ve got that one covered.”

The crackle of static over the speaker alerts Dean to your presence down the hall.

“Radio check,” you test.

He turns the receiver over in his hand and holds the button. “10-2. Loud and clear, (Y/N).”

“What am I looking for?”

“We don’t know yet,” Sam responds from over Dean’s shoulder. “Just keep an eye out for any red flags.”

“10-4. I’m going in.”

“Be careful, (Y/N),” Sam says.

Dean watches the video feed from the camera attached to the button of your shirt as it moves with you on Sam’s computer screen.

“Why do you have to do that?” he grumbles, setting the receiver on the glass tabletop of the hotel room with a clatter.

Sam’s eyes dart around in confusion. “Do what?”

“With (Y/N).” Dean flings a hand toward the radio. “Treating her like…”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Like she’s our sister?”

“She’s not,” Dean snaps, “all right? She walked out on us.”

“She walked out on you,” Sam retorts. “And so did I, but you came and got me at Stanford anyway, so don’t pretend that’s what this is about.”

Dean draws back in shock at his brother’s words. The two of you had issues since the night of the fire, and when Sam left for Stanford, you lost what little buffer he provided. That, Dean always thought, was when the tension gave out and you finally snapped. It was what made you leave, too.

He doesn’t respond to Sam as your three raps on the door sound through the speaker.

It opens with a click, revealing the doctor’s casual form.

“Agent Baker,” she greets, her voice sultrier than Dean remembers.

Your voice deepens to a low hum. “Doctor Finch.”

She chuckles. “You can call me Liz.”

“Well, in that case, you can call me–”

“Okay.” Sam reaches over and turns a knob on the radio, muting the voices. “That’s enough of that.”

The picture shakes as you make your way inside, the video scanning the room. Dean glances over the suite, complete with a king-size bed, kitchenette, and a sofa, its design similar to the room they rented for tonight.

You sit on the couch and the camera stills, following the doctor – Liz – as she stands with her back to you at the minibar. She makes her way toward you, a glass of something clear in each hand, one of which she holds out to you.

She joins you on the couch, close enough to reach out and touch you. She crosses one leg over the other, pushing the fabric of her skirt up her thigh, and when you turn, Dean can see her arm slink across the back of the sofa.

Sam mutters something about him staring, but Dean only waves him off.

You set your drink on the coffee table and make your way across the room toward a bathroom.

Sam turns the radio up again. “(Y/N), tell me you didn’t touch that drink.”

“Of course not,” you whisper.

When your reflection in the mirror comes into view, Dean can see the fading blush in your cheeks.

“What do you see?” Dean asks.

You open a cabinet in the corner of the bathroom, which holds only a few white towels on the shelves. At the vanity, you run the faucet before shuffling through the drawers. You pull back the shower curtain to find an empty, pristine white tub and a shower caddy with hotel soaps.

“Nothing but normal human people stuff,” you conclude. “But if I were a djinn, I wouldn’t be draining people’s blood in my company-sponsored four-star hotel room either.”

“See if you can get anything out of her,” Sam says.

“All right, stand by.” You turn off the water and make your way outside again.

The screen travels from the empty couch to the bed, where Liz perches. The picture shakes as your breath hitches in your chest before you shuffle across the room to meet her.

“You know, the people I work for always set me up in these big hotel rooms with these huge beds,” Liz drawls. “They really are cozier with two people.”

You chuckle, and even Dean can barely pick up on the shocked quiver in your laugh. “I’ll bet they are.”

She extends her arms to you and you accept with your own. When she pulls your chest against hers, she covers the camera and the screen goes dark. Dean hears static again as your mic brushes against fabric.

“You don’t want to get to know me better?” you murmur.

“Not particularly,” she teases. “Do you?”

“I think I know enough,” you say. “You’re not what I thought you were.”

Dean looks to Sam for confirmation of what he already knows: your last comment was meant for them. She’s not the djinn.

Before he can curse, the sound of your lips smacking against hers cuts through the disappointment and fills the room. This time, Dean’s hand shoots out to turn down the volume knob.

“Well, now what?” he huffs.

“I don’t know,” Sam admits. “I guess we– Wait.”

On the screen, Liz looks directly at them – or, rather, at the camera. Dean can’t hear her, but the rage and disgust in her eyes leave little to the imagination as her lips move at you.

The video follows you all the way down the hall until you burst through the door of their own room, eyes wide. You lean your back against the door, your chest rising and falling.

After a few silent moments, Dean opens his mouth to speak.

“Nope,” you interject, “we’re not talking about it.”

Later in the night, you pore over a map splayed out on the table while Sam traces his eyes across his computer screen and Dean rifles through the pages of an ancient book. Your head bobs back and forth as you struggle against your leaden eyelids.

“That’s it. I’m getting coffee,” you declare. “And some food. Any requests?”

The boys glance at each other before turning to you again.

“That’s not a good idea, (Y/N),” Sam says, “not with a djinn running around.”

You raise a tired eyebrow at him, daring him to try a better reason.

“Besides, that lady probably called the cops on you. They could catch you,” he argues.

“I’d like to see them try,” you remark.

He looks to Dean with pleading eyes, but Dean doesn’t meet them.

“The diner’s, like, three blocks away. I’ll be twenty, thirty minutes tops, all right?” you say.

Your voice is firm, but you still wait for his sigh of reluctant agreement before you head out the door.

Gloom and mugginess hangs in the air from the earlier rain, and you track mud into the lobby of the hotel when you make your way back, a carrier of coffee in one hand and a plastic bag of Styrofoam plates in the other.

Sam clears a space so you can drop them on the table, looking more content than earlier. As you survey the room, you guess why.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Look, don’t be mad,” he says. “He went to follow you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, still too tired to process his words. When you finally do, the thought of Dean going after you tugs the corners of your lips up.

Your hope sinks as quickly as it rose.

“We’ve got to go,” you say, collecting a silver knife and the small pot of lamb’s blood from the table.

“(Y/N), wait. It’s okay,” Sam insists. “He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You pocket the knife and check the magazine of your gun. “I know he’s good, but so am I. Sam, I would’ve known if someone’d been tailing me the past half hour.”

The realization seems to strike more quickly with him before he springs into action, echoing your movements before following you out the door.

Read part two here!

[impalaimagining]

I have quite a bit coming up in the next few weeks for you guys. And it feels... 

Along with my commissions, I’ve also got two fics coming today for my 9 Squares 3 Fics challenge card. I have an au/trope bingo card as well, and the fics for that are due May 22. Check out the card and let me know if you’ve got any ideas (for unfilled squares only!). 

The breakdown: 

For 9S3F

-Jared x Reader, apocalyptic AU - Jared Padalecki, riding a motorbike, sadness squares -Jensen x Danneel - Danneel Ackles, proposal, singing the other to sleep squares

For AU/Trope Bingo

-Ambulance Officer!Dean - Reader and Dean are in an established relationship and Reader goes on a girls night and she somehow eat something she shouldn't and Dean is the one called on scene. -Bartender!AU - Part 2 to Return To Sender - Jensen goes to San Jac’s and tells Jared about Danneel’s marriage to Misha. -Baker!Dean - Dean x Reader - You’ve lived your life with a certain scent drifting in and out of your mind and nose, but you can’t quite figure out what it is, until you walk past a bakery in Lawrence, Kansas. -Truck Driver!Dean - As a truck driver, Dean can go all around the country and stop at different places to carry out his murders. Serial killer AU.