#Poor Sammy and his broken arm

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Sleepyhead

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, slight John Winchester x daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: the various times you’ve fallen asleep around the boys

Your brain didn’t work the same way as your brothers. To them, four to five hours of sleep every night, or even every other night, was sufficient to keep them going, even through grueling hunts.

For you, that wasn’t even sufficient enough to keep you going through your homework.

Because of this, you’d developed the skill of falling asleep anywhere, at any time, in just a few minutes.

This skill led to some interesting stories over the years.

…

“Psst,” Dean Winchester hissed as he nudged his little brother.

Sam glanced to his left and saw Dean gesturing to the back seat, where you were curled up against the window, fast asleep.

“We left like four minutes ago,” Sam whispered with a grin.

“No kidding,” Dean pulled over, reaching into his bag and pulling out a Sharpie, popping the cap off as he leaned over the back seat.

Sam gave him a sideways glance, “What’d she ever do to you?”

Dean chuckled, “This is what she gets for stealing my jacket.”

Sam glanced back again, and sure enough, somehow you’d managed to snatch Dean’s jacket and were currently using it as a blanket.

Sam shook his head, an amused smile playing across his face.

“I’m not sure the punishment fits the crime, but go right ahead.”

After you awoke, it took you the rest of the day before you saw the mustache drawn above your mouth, and the “NERD” written across your forehead, and about half an hour of scrubbing to get it off.

When you confronted Dean about it, he just laughed.

“That’s what you get, sleepyhead.”

…

“Hey, we’re back, how’s…” Dean’s voice trailed off when he saw you, head down on top of your history book, put like a light. “The homework going,” he finished half heartedly, laughing softly.

“I don’t know how she sleeps on that chair, those things are hard as rocks,” Sam commented as he headed to his bed. It had been a long hunt, and he was desperate for some sleep.

“Poor kid,” Dean said softly as he began to pull your chair away from the desk.

“Is it my night?” Sam yawned, scooting over to make room for you on his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said as he lifted you carefully into his arms. “I’ve got her.”

Sam splayed out on his bed as Dean gently set you down on his.

“Dean?” You stirred, keeping your eyes closed but reaching up to grab at the arms holding you.

“Shh,” Dean took your hands in his, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. Go back to bed, sleepyhead.”

…

“We ready to go yet?” Dean asked, replacing the library book on the shelf as Sam stood.

“Yeah, as soon as we find Y/N,” Sam glanced around. “I thought she was right here.”

“She went over to the fiction section,” Dean led the way, and stopped short when he found you, leaning against a bookshelf, a book clutched in your arms, fast asleep. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I still don’t know how she does it,” Sam muttered as he knelt next to you, reaching out to shake your shoulder. “Honey, it’s time to go.”

“Sammy?” You asked sleepily, blinking your eyes open slowly.

“C’mon,” he urged, helping you as you slowly got to your feet.

“Did you find what you needed?” You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you leaned against Sam’s tall frame. Sam smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulder and guiding you towards the door.

“You bet, sleepyhead. Now let’s get outta here.”

…

“Let her sleep.”

Dean looked over at his father, frowning.

“She’ll want to see you. It’s been weeks.”

John ran a hand over his face, sighing.

“I’m not staying long, I have another lead to follow up on.”

“All the more reason to wake her up. She misses you.”

“Dean, I said let her sleep,” John glanced over at you as you stirred, but you just shifted around and fell back asleep.

“Why?” Dean demanded. He didn’t often challenge John, but after you’d broken down crying the other night, confiding in Dean how much you missed your father and how much you worried about him, he’d decided that things needed to change.

“Because she…” John shook his head. “Just don’t. Let her be, I can’t.”

“Can’t what? If you want me to do this, I need a reason.”

“Because if she sees me, she’s going to ask me to stay,” John swallowed. “And if she does that, I won’t go.”

Dean stared incredulously at his father as he made his way over to your sleeping form. John leaned down, placing a kiss to the side of his daughter’s head and smiling gently at you.

“Goodbye, sleepyhead.”

…

“I told you we shouldn’t have brought her,” Sam complained as the Impala pulled into the motel.

“I didn’t think it would take so long,” Dean grumbled.

“She was exhausted, she couldn’t even stay awake for fifteen minutes. If that vamp had found the Impala, she would’ve been a sitting duck.”

“I know, I know,” Dean ran his hands over his face and sighed. “Look, it was stupid, but she’s ok, alright? Can we just go to bed.”

“Alright,” Sam reached back to shake you awake, but Dean grabbed his arm.

“Just let her sleep, I’ll bring her in.”

Sam shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Sam left the Impala and headed for the hotel room.

“Alright baby,” Dean sighed as he opened your door and carefully lifted you into his arms. It wasn’t as easy as it had been when you were little, but he could still lift you without much difficulty. He carried you inside and set you gently on his bed, before pulling the covers over you.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead. I’ll be watching over you.”

[peachhcs]

can we get any this from Sammy and Will at world I just need my broken heart to be fix for one moment

night out in prague

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

a night off in the city leads to the usa men's team heading into the city for a much needed night out.

1.4k words

as promised, here is some of samy and will at worlds before they broke up because i said i would still write about their happy moments in between the sadness to get a small break from the angst :)

au masterlist

will's gaze stuck itself to samy as she walked towards him with a drunk smile spread across her lips. she wandered off towards the bar an hour ago taking shots with some of the girlfriends of the guys with will keeping a watchful eye on her a few tables away. he enjoyed seeing her get along so well with the others despite their age difference to some of the other players on the team.

the blonde forgot his conversation he was having as samy reached his side. he quickly smiled down at her, "hi."

"hi. miss anything exciting?" the girl wondered, tucking her head into will's shoulder since he was her height sitting in the booth.

"not really. enjoy your shots?" will chuckled lightly when samy eagerly nodded.

"so good. you should've done a round with us," the brunette always got more touchy whenever she got drunk. her fingers reached to will's curls to play with them and the action had the boy flushing.

he loved the feeling of samy's fingers in his hair, but being around everyone else while she did it was still something the boy was getting used to.

the other guys at the table hardly even noticed, but it still sent a blush across will's cheeks nonetheless.

"i'm hungry," samy mumbled as she leaned more into her boyfriend. his arm wrapped around her waist basically keeping her up against him.

"wanna leave soon?" will wondered.

"no, i'm okay. don't wanna pull you away," she hummed towards the guys still in their own conversation will stopped listening to.

"i don't mind. i was thinking about leaving soon anyway," the blonde said.

"are you sure?" samy never wanted to pull her boyfriend away if he wasn't ready to leave. she didn't mind hanging around longer as long as she probably started drinking water instead of more alcohol.

"yeah, i'm sure. don't worry," the hockey player beamed up at her. his smile was hard to ignore knowing he was being serious, so samy returned it.

"okay, as long as you're sure. i'll say bye to luke," the younger girl caught sight of her brother a few tables down.

the middle hughes saw his sister walking towards him, smiling a bit, "what's up little hughesy?" poor samy would never escape that nickname, especially whenever she was around her brothers since they were always "hughesy" before her.

"will and i are gonna leave. just wanted to let you know," the girl told the older boy.

"leaving already?" cole wondered from beside luke.

"yeah, i think those rounds of shots did me in," samy chuckled lightly.

"i can tell. your cheeks always get red whenever you have a lot of alcohol," luke quickly squeezed samy's cheeks which instantly made her pull back.

"shut up. you're the same," the girl poked her brother's flushed cheeks. he just rolled his eyes while the others laughed.

"have fun back at the hotel. don't be too loud," trevor teased earning an eye roll from samy and a gagging motion from luke.

"god, do not say that shit around me about my sister. gross. text me when you get back," luke shook his head in disgust.

"you're such a baby. see you," samy pinched her brother's arm before finding her way back to will who finished paying their tab.

"ready?" the blonde hooked his arm around samy's waist again. the girl nodded, so the two hurried out before anyone could stop them and drag them back in.

the city slowed down once night hit besides the few cabs driving through the streets and people wandering back home from the bars much like samy and will were doing. prague was so beautiful at night, too. the girl's gaze was glued to the buildings with incredible architecture that reached into the sky.

"i could stay here forever," samy mumbled.

"you and me both," will hummed, his hand going to intertwine with samy's

"do you ever wish you could stay in the countries you travel to forever?" the youngest hughes' gaze fell on her boyfriend. from the side he was stunning. his curls started growing back out after his last haircut and his entire face in general was just to die for.

"yeah, sometimes. i wish we'd get more time to explore," will's own gaze flicked across the impressive buildings and night sky.

"i don't know if i've said this, but i really like traveling with you. it's really fun and it's been super awesome cheering you and my brother on," samy felt will's hold tighten on her hand. he met her gaze with a smile, stopping them on the sidewalk for a moment.

"i'm really glad you're here. it means a lot that you came out and i hope we can continue doing this," the two exchanged warm smiles before their lips were on each other's seconds later.

will's told tightened on samy's hips as their kiss deepened. the streets of prague were practically empty, so the couple used that by their advantage to kiss under the starts as cheesy as it all sounded. samy's fingers tugged at the curls on the back of will's head making him kiss her even harder. they practically lost themselves in one another.

"you're so beautiful," will mumbled when they finally pulled apart for air.

"i love you," samy hummed earning a large smile from her boyfriend.

"i love you more," the blonde placed one more kiss to her lips before making them continue walking to the hotel.

the rest of their walk was spent in comfortable silence. the two gently swung their connected hands back and forth until reaching the hotel. the front desk nodded to them as will dug out his key card to take them to their floor.

once will kicked their door open, samy stumbled in. she tore her heels off, falling back onto the bed with a happy smile painting her lips. the blonde chuckled seeing her sprawled out across the bed, quickly plopping down beside her as the two began staring at the ceiling. 

"be honest with me. are you signing when we get back?" samy wondered because she saw the news headlines and all the circulation about will, gabe, and ryan possibly signing. the couple hadn't talked much about it since they lost the ncaa finals as will kept it pretty sparse around her and everyone else. 

because of samy's slightly intoxicated state, she didn't pick up on the hesitation in her boyfriend's face nor the way the smile faded from his lips. she just assumed he didn't hear her or something. 

"i'm not sure," his answer finally came. 

"i feel like there's so much speculation going around. i mean, i'd be happy for you either way," the girl shrugged, a light smile tugging on her lips still. 

she missed will's hesitation again because he just rolled over so he was on his side and samy met his gaze. "i know you'd be happy for me either way. i think you're my number 1 supporter," the boy chuckled. 

"well, after your family, i hope i'd be. have i ever missed any of your games when you were close to or in michigan?" the brunette raised her eyebrow. 

will's smile faltered a bit, but again, samy didn't notice. her hand reached up to caress the boy's cheek as he leaned into her soft touch before kissing the inside of her palm. his gesture had samy giggling before pulling him into a real kiss against her lips. she fell back against the bed again as the hockey player sort of hovered above her so he wasn't completely crushing her with all of his body weight. 

the two continued making out until will pulled away knowing it was late and samy was intoxicated so they couldn't take it further. she pouted though when his lips left hers, "why'd you stop?" 

"it's late, we should go to bed. i got practice in the morning," the blonde chuckled. 

"when has that ever stopped you?" the girl teased some making will blush. 

"maybe when you're not drunk, yeah?" he grinned, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek instead. 

"fine," the boy rolled off of her back onto his feet where he reached his hands out to help her back up. 

the couple exchanged warm smiles before samy started towards the bathroom to wipe her makeup off and get ready for bed. fifteen minutes later, they were ready for bed in their pajamas or in will's case, pajama pants and no shirt. samy flicked the lights off before crawling into his side, snuggling into her boyfriend's extended arm. 

"i love you, sleep well," samy hummed into the boy's chest. he smiled even though she couldn't see it. 

"i love you, too," he placed one last kiss to the top of her head and then quickly knocked out for the night, soft snores filling the hotel room. 

[literaryavenger]

Broken - part 2

Summary: You reach your breaking point and confront the team.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Hints to eating disorder. Language. Tony being an insensitive ass. Reader being very dramatic. A lot of yelling. Talk about Bucky's past and Tony's parent's murder. Innocent and broken Bucky. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.6K

Part 1

A/N: reader is absolutely dramatic in this and I love it. I can't say enough that this is my first work (second chapter, but still), I don't really know what I'm doing, but I'm trying. Also English is not my first language so pardon me for mistakes, I'm really trying not to be too repetitive in my writing and expand my vocabulary and just generally do better. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

After a morning of hanging out with Cassie and Scott, Cassie’s mom, Maggie, came to pick her up.

You chatted for a few minutes while Scott and Cassie gathered her stuff and, after you said your goodbye, they took off. 

"Thanks for inviting me to hang out with you guys, Cassie’s such an amazing kid." you say to Scott with a smile while you get in the elevator to the communal floor for lunch with the whole team.

"No need to thank me. Cassie loves you so much, you’re always welcome to join us." He says back as the elevator dings and you get off.

You smile at him and look around to see most of the team already at the table wrapped up in their own conversations.

You don’t have “assigned” seats, but Tony sits at the head of the table on the only side that has only one seat, while the other side has two.

It’s very important for Tony to have this seat as he thinks of himself as the head of your family, even if he doesn’t want to be the team leader.

The rest of you gather around him, usually next to the same people that you enjoy having conversations with.

Today Vision was sitting on Tony’s left side with Wanda next to him, then Pietro, whose other side was empty so Scott sat there.

On Tony’s right was Peter, then Nat and Clint, you sat on the far end leaving a seat empty between you and Clint on your left, and the two seats on the head of the table on your right, also empty, with Scott in front of you.

There are gonna be a few empty seats because Thor, Loki and Bruce were currently in New Asgard.

After a few minutes of conversation with Scott, which mostly consists on trying to come up with your next prank, Sam, Steve and Bucky join you, Sam sitting between you and Clint, Steve on your right at the head of the table with Bucky between Steve and Scott.

You notice Bucky briefly looking at Tony on the other end of the table before bowing his head and staring at the table without saying anything, while Tony stares daggers at Bucky, stopping as soon as he sees you looking.

You think it's weird, but then again you know Tony and Bucky had problems so you let it go.

"Hi, baby." Sam says to you when he sits down, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi, Sammy." you say chuckling "how you doing?"

"Very good now." he says, putting his arm around you and making you laugh again. "Where have you been all day, I’ve missed you baby."

"I’ve been staying as far away from you as I could, baby." you say jokingly, to which he makes a pretend hurt face with a big gasp that makes both you and Steve laugh. "I was hanging out with my girls."

"But Nat was training and Wanda was hanging out with Vision." Steve points out, a little confused.

"Yeah, she means Tic tac and his daughter." Sam explains while you, him and Scott laugh.

Steve then join in on your laughter and you keep joking until Wanda uses her powers to put the plates full of food on the table, with some help from Vision.

As the lunch went on you all kind of talk to everybody, joking about stupid things mostly you and Scott have done lately.

You notice Bucky is quietly eating, not joining in in any conversations and keeping his eyes on his food.

Nobody is trying to talk to him either and you're about to when you feel Steve nudging you on the arm with his elbow.

you look at him and see him look from you to your plate a couple times.

You give him a small smile and a nod and you eat a couple of bites of your food before he lets himself concentrate on the conversation once more, but not before exchanging a bit of a worried and knowing look with Wanda, which you chose to ignore because you don't want to have that conversation right now.

You bring your attention back to Bucky "So, Bucky, what did you and Cap do after I left this morning?"

As soon as you ask the question the whole table goes quiet. You look around the room and everyone is looking weirdly from you to Steve to Bucky, which confuses you a lot.

You looked back at Bucky, who is about to answer but, after giving Tony a quick glance, he shuts his mouth, deciding against it.

You look at Tony who is giving Bucky a look that if it could kill, it definitely would.

At this point you're pretty fed up with this unspoken tension and, since nobody is saying anything, you decide to address the issue yourself.

"Okay, enough is enough." you say, getting everybody’s attention on you but keeping yours on Tony and Bucky "Will somebody explain to me what the fuck is going on?"

"Language!"

"Stick a sock in it, Rogers. I’m sick of this. I’ve been patient for three fucking months. I’m done with this. You have been treating me with child gloves and it ends now. First you all just disappear for a mission leaving only me behind, then half of you come back and nobody tells me anything about everyone else and when the rest of the team came back, all of you started acting like nothing even happened, barely acknowledging Steve’s absence unless I asked, and even then you just danced around my questions. Now he’s back with someone new and not only are you all still acting like nothing happened, but all of you are being extremely rude and deliberately ignoring the poor guy!"

You point at Bucky, who turns red at the attention and looks uncomfortable, but you go on. "AND Tony hasn’t stopped looking at him like he wants to murder him where he stands! Now, somebody tell me what the fuck happened then and what has been happening for the last three months."

you look at Tony who looks like he was about to explode, but doesn't say anything.

Bucky looks uncomfortable and like he's trying very hard not to look at you.

Steve looks at you with an apologetic face and you know he's not about to tell you anything.

You look around at everyone else and they all look either shocked at your little outburst or guilty because they know you're right.

Most of them avoid your gaze and the ones that are looking at you are silently asking you to let it go.

After a few minutes of no one saying anything, you lose the last chill you had.

"FINE!" you yell, getting up and slamming your hand on the table, startling almost everybody after the uncomfortable silence you’d been sitting in.

"If you’re gonna insist on treating me like a fucking child, keeping me out of these serious business, trusting a literal child more than me," you said pointing at Peter "then maybe I should start behaving like one. Or no, you know what, better yet, since none of you trust me anyway, I should just quit this fucking team and move out!"

Without giving anyone the chance to answer you storm off towards the stairs, going straight to the smallest training room to try and calm down a little, since it’s the one no one ever uses and no one’s gonna think of looking for you there.

You get on the treadmill and started running, not stopping until you see the light from outside dim and the gym lights turn on.

You turn the machine off and as soon as you stop you feel so dizzy that you almost fall over and have to hold on to the handles of the treadmill just to keep your balance.

After a few minutes you catch your breath, then stumble towards the punching bag and start throwing punches as hard as you can, still so angry that you don't even think about wrapping your hands.

After about half an hour of angry punching your knuckles are bleeding, but you only stop when your head starts spinning and you slip on the floor out of breath while you start seeing black spots.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and when you look up you see Bucky with a very worried look on his face.

He's saying something to you but his voice is so distant you could barely hear him. You look at him confused for a second before feeling yourself slipping away and then everything goes black.

You wake up to confused yelling and your head pounding, and it takes you a second to even realize where you are. You try to sit up but have an IV on your arm that stops you.

You look around the room confused, finding the source of all the noise: Tony is very intently yelling at Bucky who's just looking at his feet, his face covered by his long hair, while Steve is trying very hard to keep Tony away from Bucky while also yelling at him to calm down.

"Let go of me Rogers, it’s HIS fault she’s here!" Tony yells "and it’s your fault he’s here in the first place!"

"Tony, you don’t know what happened, you can’t just accuse Bucky everytime something happens!" Steve yells back, struggling to keep him away from Bucky.

"LOOK AT THEM! THEY’RE BOTH COVERED IN BLOOD AND HE WAS THE ONLY ONE TO SEE HER ALL AFTERNOON, WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED TO KNOW?!" At this point you're sick of the screaming and especially of the random accusations against Bucky.

"Can you stop yelling for fuck’s sakes?" you say, even if it comes out lower and weaker than you’d like.

The three men all look at you, a little surprised and worried sick.

"Y/N! Are you ok? What did he do to you?" Tony says, getting angrier with every word, while you're just confused by his accusations.

"What are you talking about, Tony? Nobody did anything to me, I just passed out."

"You don’t have to cover for that murderer, just tell me what really happened!" murderer? What is he talking about?

You can tell he was trying not to yell too much at you since you're not the object of his anger, but his insults and his insinuating that you're lying are making you angry, a feeling that just grows when you see all the guilt and hurt in Bucky’s face at his words, which just breaks your heart.

"You want to know what happened, Stark?" you're the one yelling now "You, the whole team, pissed me off so much that I spent several hours running and hitting a punching bag so hard that I bled and then passed out from exhaustion and probably dehydration. And stop yelling at Bucky, if it wasn’t for him finding me and bringing me here I could’ve died in that gym, so you should be fucking thanking him!" you yell the last part so loudly that you think that's gonna be the end of that, but Tony has more to say.

"THANK HIM?!" he yells, his eyes open wide, almost in shock. "YOU THINK I SHOULD THANK THE MAN THAT MURDERED MY PARENTS?!" He yells so loudly that you're surprised he still had a voice to keep going.

But he did, a little quieter after seeing the shocked look on your face. "You have no idea who he is! Who he truly is… I know you love hearing stories about Steve and him in the 40s, but that’s not who he is now. It’s not who he’s been for the last 70 years!"

You're hanging on his every word, looking at Bucky’s general direction every now and then, scared to meet his eyes and have everything Tony was saying confirmed.

But that wasn’t a problem, since Bucky's back at looking at his feet, like a kid being yelled at by a parent for doing something wrong.

"He’s been under Hydra’s control all this time! He’s been taught how to be invisible, how to disappear and most importantly how to kill, in every way possible. He’s been killing people for decades, living as a ghost story, unstoppable and unbeatable. Three months ago Steve found him and set out to help him, and when half of us didn’t agree with him, we battled against each other. The half of the team that came back later had to spend some time on the Raft while we worked on their release. For Barnes it took longer, and Steve refused to leave his side. They were lucky enough to get them to release this monster, and if it was for me it never would’ve happened. So do not tell me to thank a murderer, a monster that broke my family in 1991 and almost broke it again a few months ago!"

You're shocked.

Not just because of Bucky’s past, but because of what happened three months ago.

Because of what everybody kept from you.

You feel absolutely betrayed by everybody. Everybody except Bucky, funnily enough. You're barely listening to what is being said.

You hear Steve’s "He was being mind controlled" and Tony’s "That’s all an excuse" but your attention is elsewhere.

You're looking at Bucky who is visibly trembling and, when he looks up at Steve for a few seconds because of something he says in his defense, you see his face clearly and it's wet with tears.

It absolutely breaks your heart and you make eye contact for a second before he quickly bows his head again and slowly backs away from the room, almost scared.

The two yelling men don’t even seem to notice the loss of a fourth person in the room and keep on yelling until they just keep repeating the same things, and you're done.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" you yell at the top of your lungs, leaving them instantly silent.

"I don’t care who you think he is. The man you seem to hate so much is absolutely nothing like the man that walked into the tower this morning. The man that’s been so scared to even just talk, that he keeps his head down and doesn’t make a sound unless spoken to. The man that saved my life today. The man that ran out of here is absolutely broken, and it’s 100% your fault!" you end, looking straight into Tony’s eyes.

"Y/N, Bucky’s-" Tony started, but you cut him off.

"Bucky is the only one in this tower to not have lied to me. All of you kept me in the dark on this." You're now looking at Steve. "You’re no better, Rogers. Half of the team, half of my family was in, not just any prison, but the fucking Raft, and none of you told me. Why? Why just me?" you almost whisper the question you’ve been wanting to ask for the last three months, tears flooding your eyes.

"We didn’t want to put that on you..." Steve says.

"We knew how hard it would’ve been for you to choose a side…" Tony adds.

"BULLSHIT!" you yell, startling them. "Do not give me this 'we did this for you' bullshit. You did this for yourselves, because neither of you wanted to see me choose the other one. But you know what? I don’t want to choose either of you. Now you both lost me. So I hope you’re happy, because you brought this on yourselves for lying to me for so long. I’m done!"

You get up, tears streaming down my cheeks, take the IV out of your arm and walk right out of the room while the two men watch you leave, too stunned to say anything.

Part 3

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[auroras-space25]

I’m back again! Could I request a supernatural fic with Ler older brother Dean and Sam with Lee younger sister reader please? Thank you 💜💜💜

Thank you so much for requesting!!!!!❤️

Pranks And Tickles:

Sam and Dean Winchester

Reader is about 15-16 years old, set in about season 15 so Sam and Dean would be about 37 and 41 :)

If there was one thing about being a Winchester…It was that you all liked to prank or mess with each other…

Well one day, in a day where you guys aren’t dealing with God and End Of The World problems you decided to lighten the moods and pull a prank on both your brothers.

As we all know, Dean was VERY protective of his car, aka ‘Baby’, and would kill ANYONE who messes with her.

So you decided to take it upon yourself to use fake car stickers to make it look like she was smashed, giving Dean a heart attack and a half and Sam terror and confusion as he was the one who just drove the car.

For the next 20 minutes the bunker is filled with back and forth yelling with you in the kitchen as a laugh is heard from you, Sam and Dean’s heads both wiping around. “What’s so funny? What is so funny about my ‘Baby’ being broken!?” Dean says in a harsh voice. You let out a snicker and walk up where the car is, gesturing the two to follow after.

You show the stickers by peeling them off with a smug look on your face. The drops of Dean’s jaw and slight laugh from Sam were priceless. “You did this? Seriously!” Dean yells as he stops panicking from the near loss of ‘Baby’. “Poor Sammy, always getting the blame…” You say in a sing song voice.

The two brothers glare at one another, then back at you. “Say Dean…do you remember what we used to do when Y/N was younger, and she was being a smartass?” Sam asks in a teasing tone. Dean immediately picks up on what he’s talking about and smirks, crossing his arms. “Ahh yes…the one monster she could never defeat…”

The drop of your smug smile was never quicker as you knew EXACTLY what they were hinting at. “Oh shit…” You immediately bolt back down into the bunker, slowly being followed by your brothers.

After a very short minute of running, Dean swoops in and carries you Princess Style onto the couch, where he lays you down with your back against his chest. “Here’s to payback.” He says to Sam with an arm raise, which is then returned. “Here’s to payback.”

And with that, you feel two strong hands skitter across your waist and ribs and another two strong hands grip at your ankles and scribble across your feet.

You let out a loud squeal and start giggling, twitching and squirming in the grasp of your oldest brother. “SAM! DEAN!”

The two brothers smile at the sound of their little sisters giggling and continue. “You know how Dean feels about ‘Baby’…” Sam says as he wiggles his fingers under your toes. “It's just a stupid car!” You giggle out your words, hearing the gasp on Dean. “It is not! She’s beautiful!” Dean says as he starts tickling you even harder.

The combination of tickles eventually grows too much and you begin to squeal. “OKAY OKAY! ILL NEVER TOUCH YOUR PREVIOUS ‘BABY’ AGAIN!” You yell out through your more manic giggling.

The brothers look at each other and decide to show pity and stop their tickling, Sam standing up and Dean keeping you pressed against his chest. “You’re a little menace…”

[bigdealsgoddog]

Lookism guys when drunk

Zack lee

We already know he’s a crybaby drunk. Whether he’s mad sad or happy he’s always bawlin

He’d be out one night drinking with the boys™️, poor Daniel would be the one escorting and make sure everyone got home safe.

He had Zack hanging on his shoulder when you opened the door but as soon as he saw you he was immediately ontop of you, clinging onto you like a baby koala

“(Y/n)! Baby! You’re home!” Thankfully your used to it at this point so you know the tears streaming down his face doesn’t mean anything bad happened he was just so happy to see you. You’d thank Daniel and bring zack inside all the while he’s sniffling and rubbed his face into your hair

Don’t leave him alone for even a minute he will cry harder and that is a threat™️. Thankfully he’s really easy to take care of, just a simple ‘could you please sit baby?’ Or ‘how about you go lay in bed and I’ll bring you a water, once you drink it I’ll cuddle you as much as you want to ok?’

Careful though he might get so happy he’ll start hugging you while crying because you’re just so kind to him what did he ever do to deserve you and oh my god you are so warm and soft he could hug you all night

Daniel park

I feel like Daniel wouldn’t be the type to really want to get drunk in public really? Or even super drunk to begin with

He’s the type to cuddle with you on the couch with a glass of (whatever your preferred liqueur is) and watching some tv with you getting in that good quality time™️.

He’s totally a fruity drink guy when out in public though, he used to get self conscious about what people thought about what he drank but to him everything else tastes pretty bad, he’s not drinking to get drunk so one pina colada wouldn’t hurt right?

But after some convincing(mild bullying) from Zack and VinJin to let loose and the fifth pina colada…

He did not realize fruiter drinks were stronger because of the sugar and not easily gauged alcohol content.

You happened to be there too, it’s the only reason Daniel felt comfortable enough to drink. You were his designated driver and you would never let anything happen to Daniel or let Daniel do anything he might regret.

I mean, until he sees some poor dumb bastard attempting to flirt with you that is

Jace would even tell you the next morning that daniels whole demeanor just flipped like a coin. He’d take a deep breath almost like to steady his nerves, completely changing the vibe around him and his friends as he set down his empty glass and took quick strides over to you

His friends really thought some is going to die tonight and I mean. They weren’t really too far off.

You just weren’t going to let poor Daniel go to jail over this.

You and the guy could see Daniel coming and you were almost convinced he had taken on ultra instinct the moment he made eye contact with the guy. The poor bastard looked paler than a ghost before immediately dashing off. Before Daniel could chase after him you had grabbed his arm laughing a bit nervously.

God the moment you and him get home though? You were so concerned he was still pissed because of how quiet he was being.

That was until you got up to your shared bedroom and he grabbed you by your shoulders to just confess how much he loves you and how great full he is that you love him back and that you’re so kind to him. That he would fight everyone to the end of the earth if it meant that he knew you were ok.

He’d pull you into a hug and you of course hug him back, you’re emotional hugging him tightly as you reciprocate his feelings for a few moments before you hear the snore that came from him burying his face in your hair.

Somehow he fell asleep standing up in your arms and now it was your job to get him in bed laying properly

Samuel Seo (Seo Seongeun)

this might be my love for broken and deeply insecure men talking as well as my love for Sammy, but I feel like he could be either two wildly different versions when drunk.

He's either incredibly sad or incredibly horny, the only difference is whether or not he had tequila or whiskey and if you want some odd form of both its soju.

it's not like he's gonna start bawling at Marly and Me or tear up because you didn't give him a kiss good night.

ok actually he might

but it's more like he's unable to really contain his sense of inferiority, for some reason tequila just gets him riled up for his future plans and things he can do to truly put himself into 'the position of a king.'

But after stumbling around his home office for the past hour now, drunk and unable to even read his computer screen properly with all the swirling numbers, he can't help but get frustrated with not only the computer but with himself.

he spent fifteen minutes looking for a pen that was already in his hand.

so here you are on the couch with an oddly clingy Samuel who has not said a word to you since he staggered into the living room and intruding on your movie marathon.

You could smell the alcohol on him and considering he wasn't trying to get into your pants at the moment, you had opted for keeping the silence aside from the tv while you rubbed slow circles in his back.

"(y/n) Do you...do you really think I could become a king?" He mumbled into your side, surprising you from your tv induced trance. You gave him a small smile before nodding and kissing his head "Of course I do."

"Why?" He looked up at you, a frown set on his face, and you can see tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You're going to have to go make sure the liquor cabinet isn't completely empty later and figure out why the hell Samuel drank this much.

"Because baby, you're so driven and motivated to get what you want, if being king is something you want, I'm sure you're going to figure out how to get it."

You'd spend the rest of the time cuddling him and reassuring him until he finally decides it is much too late and the alcohol is finally making him sleepy so you and him have to go to bed together so he can cuddle you. Or he's going to fall asleep right there cuddling into your side and there's no way in hell you're going to be able to get up.

[romancemedia]

Little by little, with every new episode, Shall is becoming more and more protective of Anne. In the beginning, Anne bought Shall to serve as her bodyguard, that was his job, but since they formed a genuine relationship and bond with each other, he willingly chooses to protect her.

In episode 4, he refused her order to stop Jonas from stealing her work and instead willingly chose to protect her against the wolves.

In episode 5, he defend her against Catt and was ready to fight him!

In episode 6, when Jonas and his friends started insulting Anne, he stepped in and got his sword, once again protecting her from a bunch of stupid bullies.

In episode 8, Shall grows worried about Anne and her involvement with the Duke and how she may wind up caught in the crossfire. After learning the truth of why Anne sent him away, he hurries back to her side, while also showing how worried sick he was about her the whole time and by the end, shows how happy and relived he is that she’s alright.

In episode 9, when Sammy began shouting insults towards her, he was ready to bring out his sword and if Keith hadn’t arrived when he did then it’s likely a fight would have broken out if Sammy said one more bad thing to Anne.

Finally in this latest episode, Shall’s protectiveness of Anne had truly reached it’s peek. He was out of his mind with rage after seeing what Sammy and the other students were going to do to Anne and he was out for blood! He was ready to cut them down and had Anne not stop him, then they would surely be dead! Despite stepping down though, he declared that someday he would kill Sammy and the others and he means it.

Even better, he knocks away the boiling water to further ensure Anne’s safety.

And once everything is over, Shall holds Anne in his arms, comforting her as she cries over her terrifying experience. Poor Shall even felt guilty, blaming himself for being separated from her.

[igotanidea]

Life is good : totally spies x little!brother

A/N: now this is not what I usually write, but it was nice to reach to the childhood/teenagehood classics. Thank you for the request @paultiteuf360. told you guys, I have wide range of fandoms I could write for :D :D

Request/summary: It's the story of a 6 years old cute boy who lived in the streets cause his parents died in a car crash. One day' he is attacked by thugs, but he is saved by the totally spies. Because he has no family, the 3 spy girls decide to take care of him like big sisters: he loves the feeling of their latex suit, to be held in their arms (legs wrapped around their waist and arms around their neck), getting hugs and cheek kisses, as the find him adorable. It's a cute story of Sam, Clover and Alex having heartwarming moments with their autoproclamed little brother.

***

This was not the plan.

This was most definitely not the plan, but then again – life is twisted.

And this is how Sam, Alex and Clover, at the very young age became self-proclaimed sisters to a child they found on one of their crazy missions. Even Jerry, with his years of experience and rational thinking and Sam, with all her thinking attitude and strategic brain were completely helpless once that little boy looked at them with his vulnerable, teary eyes full of hope. Hope that maybe, maybe, those girls that just saved him from being attacked, for no reason whatsoever, could be his literal saviours.

And how could they possibly say no? Especially when Alex rushed to the terrified boy, hugging him to her chest so tight it was nearly on the verge of suffocating him, almost breaking into tears herself. As the raven-haired agent kneeled on the floor, refusing to let go off the child it was quite hard to say who was comforting who.

And then, without thinking, guided solely by the heartache Alex felt looking at that poor broken innocent sole abandoned by his parents and living on the street like a wild animal with no one to hold him or care for him or love him she blurted out that one sentence that was about to change everything.

“can we take him home?”

Now that was something that took both Clover and Sam by huge, huge surprise.

“Alex…” Sam started, crouching next to her friend putting one hand on her shoulder “we are not-“

“Come on, Sammy, pleeeeaaaase….” Puppy eyes fixed on Sam’s face were quite hard to say no to.

“We really shouldn’t—“

Deep inside Sam was wishing that Clover would take rational approach to things and back her up, but it was far too late for that. The blonde was already wiping some dirt from the boy’s face fixing his crooked and torn little jacket cooing at him.

“Hey there, little fella.” She sent him the brightest, most reassuring and charming smile “it’s all right kiddo. No need to cry….”

Hearing those words and having these two pretty ladies melting over him, the boy broke into a crying fit. All the fear from being attacked, the loneliness he felt through the years ever since his parents were gone and confusion of what was going to happen to him now found a way out in the form of tears.

“Oh no!” Alex hugged him tighter to her, allowing the boy to wrap his arms and legs around her. It seems like the feeling of her latex suit was strangely comforting to him.  “It’s okay. It’s okay….” She brushed his hair standing up, refusing to let go. “We’re not going to leave you alone….”

“You’re not?” he stuttered, pulling back and rubbing wet eyes with his little fists in a child-like manner. This was the first sentence he said since the girls came across him and it was a bit reassuring. Meaning, he was opening up to them.

“We’re not.” Clover assured, giving Sam the look.

“We’re not.” Sam repeated, taking a step closer and looking at the boy’s face, smiling at him “We’re not leaving you alone again. Now, can you maybe tell us your name?”

***

Tommy.

That was his name. Tommy.

As some research done thanks to Jerry’s curtesy showed, he’s been leaving on the streets, in and out of the foster system since he was four and since his parents died in a car crash. Reckless, unnecessary death, because the driver coming from the opposite direction was DUI speeding. Two years of cold, loneliness, fear and emptiness was something no one, let alone a child this young should have to deal with it.

Alex was straight-forward sobbing while hearing all those news.

“Poor little Tommy.” Tears were falling down her cheeks like a fountain. She was definitely the most sensitive of the trio, but the luridness of the situation got even to Sam. Within a few minutes, Jerry found himself in the company of three slightly hysterical young women and one small boy who was trying to hug and calm them all at the same time.

Not sure how to behave himself.

Obviously, as a middle-aged man in charge of the one of the most important top spy agency on the world he had some privileges that could be used for everyone’s benefit.

Turning away from the rest of the people gathered in the WOOHP rubbing his sweaty eyes he started pressing some buttons and writing something that seemed suspiciously like some hacking code to some hacking system.

***

“Sh! You’ll wake him up!”

“You’re the one who’s yelling!”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Both of you be quiet!”

It was both silly and touching how they crowded behind the bedroom door where Tommy was soundly dozing. Ever since Jerry enabled them to take care of the boy without any legal or formal complications the three agents were bending over backward to provide him with all the affection and happiness he’s been deprived of. Sometimes it was hard, given all the duties girls had to deal with (saving the world included), but every time it happened Tommy was gladly left in the presence of grandpa Jerry.

One time the esteemed WOOHP boss was seen with a paper hat on his head and silly make up on his face having the time of his life babysitting his self-proclaimed grandson.  All things considered, the good moments far outweighed the bad.

Just like now, when upon hearing the voices coming from the door Tommy stirred in his sleep, rolled over, sat up and looked at the girls with the shiny eyes.

“Hi….”

It only took one word to make the girls run inside the room, plopping on the bed.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Slept well?”

“Are you hungry?”

The little boy they found on the street just grinned happily.

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too, kiddo.” Girls responded in unison, kissing his cheeks and forehead making the boy giggle.

Life was good.

[the--blackdahlia]

Better Man

Title: Better Man

Summary: Chris calls Danny to fix things. It doesn't quite work.

Warning: Brief language

Pairings: Matt Menard x Angelo Parker; Sammy Guevara/Tay Melo; Chris Jericho x Danny Garcia

“How’s Danny?” Tay asked Angelo as she and Sammy walked into Matt and Angelo’s apartment. Well, theirs and Danny’s. He had always had a spot in their home, and he was currently locked in the room that would always be his.

“He’s listened to that Beyonce song like six times I think,” Angelo explained as he closed the door behind them, making sure a certain Manitobian didn’t show up behind them. Anna was sitting on the counter close to his door.

“Seventh. Just started over.” She told him. “I’m gonna have to make this boy a playlist.” Jake stood up to let Tay have his seat on the couch next to Matt. Sammy perched on the arm of the couch by his wife. They were all getting hit hard by what Jericho had done, but Danny was taking it the hardest.

“Poor guy,” Jake mumbled, leaning against the wall. Angelo knocked on Danny’s door.

“Kid, our friends are all here. We’re gonna have pizza and bash Jericho.” Angelo told him. He heard the click of the doorknob before it opened and Danny emerged. Sammy jumped up and walked over to him, hugging him. He felt Danny stiffen, but he didn’t fight back.

“I was promised pizza?” Danny asked softly when Sammy let go of him.

“Come sit down and Ang will order,” Matt told him. “We’re gonna have a party!”

Angelo ordered probably too many pizzas. There was beer and wine for Anna and the boys and juice for Tay. They had old matches playing on the TV, making fun of themselves and others. Most of the bullying was focused on Chris Jericho, who deserved it. Everything was going well, filled with laughs and fun.

Until Danny’s phone rang.

“Hello?” Danny answered, the others quieting.

“Hey Danny, can we talk?” It was Chris on the other end of the line. Danny had been avoiding him for a few weeks now, and Chris finally decided he should bridge the gap.

“What do you want?” Danny asked. Angelo was ready to jump in and give Chris an earful, but Matt held up his hand, telling him to bide his time.

“I want to fix us. I don’t know what happened, but I miss you and I want to fix it.”

“You want to fix it?” Danny asked with a laugh.

“Yes. Please tell me what’s wrong?”

“You are abandoning us, Chris,” Danny started. “Not just you and me, but our family. You’re turning your back on us for someone who has done nothing but prove he’s a ball of slime inside a shit bag. And, on top of that, I had the chance to be with my mentor. I had the chance to have his respect and wrestle with him. But I gave it all up for you. And now you’re just abandoning me. You’re going to wrestle me and Sammy? And what? Expect us to lay down for you so you and Takashita can look good. So fucking Callis can look good? I’m not doing it. Sammy’s not doing it.” Danny sighed then, already feeling the weight in his chest lifting.

“Are you done?” Chris asked. It was a simple question, but it snapped something in Danny.

“You know what Chris, I am done,” Danny looked at his friends, no family’s, faces and smirked. “I’m done with you. Fuck off, Chris Jericho. And don’t call this number ever again.” With that, he hung up. As Chris tried calling him again, it all started to hit Danny. He had just broken up with Jericho.

“Oh, come here kid,” Angelo pulled him into a hug. That’s when Danny realized he had started crying at some point, but he didn’t know when. He had been fueled by so much anger in that moment. Before he knew it, everyone was hugging him. Even Anna, who was not always the most touchy-feely type of girl.

“Wanna go burn pictures of Jericho in the sink?” Anna asked him when everyone separated.

“Let’s eat the pizza first. Then we’ll see.” Danny gave her a smile.

He had his family, he didn’t need Chris Jericho.

And when him and Sammy wrestled The Callis family, he would make sure that was loud and clear.

[ariweather]

Chapter 4: Tying the knot (part 4/4)

John returned to the flat with 2 sandwich boxes in hand, one normal and one sinful. Sinful sandwich. sinful sammy. Sherlock's sinful sammy. That sounds horrible. 

"Sherlock, I'm baaaack... I have your food......" 

"Ah, thanks, John. We can eat at the table."

Sherlock arose from his position on the couch and strode over to the kitchen table. It was cluttered with vials, test tubes, and other detective equipment. He slid everything off of the table with his arm. Now the floor was littered with glass shards and chemicals. Possibly human remains, too. Sherlock looked at John (who was considering moving out). "It's alright, the case was solved ages ago. I'll discard those later. Just mind the glass shards." 

The two men sat at the table, ready to consume their lunch. John though to himself, "mmmm sandwich finally." Sherlock's sandwich looked like one of those cursed Papa's Burgeria creations. John eyed the juicy Reuben sandwich on his plate. Oh god, it looked so tasty. He was ready to dig in when Sherlock began to open his 16 packets of mayo. Using a fork, he stabbed open the first packet. He dispersed it onto the underside of his rye bread. Fine. Then, he moved onto the next packets, except he took 8 into his hand at once. And then he stabbed them all with the fork, and that was a bad idea because all of the mayonnaise exploded onto John. 

John, a Broken, Creamy man, stopped moving in absolute horror when he realized. He thought to himself: “Oh god. I'm covered in mayo. of COURSE I'm covered in mayo. Why wouldn't I be covered in mayo?”

A pause. The air was tense and stagnant and creamy all at the same time. 

John looked at Sherlock in disbelief. Sherlock looked at John in full belief. John could feel the mayo soaking into his dry skin. 

“Let me go get the vacuum cleaner” said Sherlock nonchalantly. 

John just stood there trying to process what just happened. The way all of the mayonnaise hit him instead of spilling onto the floor was almost miraculous (in a demonic way). He remembered what his therapist had taught him about how to deal with strange and stressful situations. Deep breath in, and out. In, and out. In, and JESUS CHRIST THE SCENT OF MAYO WAS SO STRONG. Would john barf? Likely. But just then, luckily or unluckily, sherlock returned with vacuum cleaner in hand. 

“John, hold still for a moment. I’m going to vacuum the mayonnaise off of your person.” 

What happened next would traumatize John forever. 

Sherlock turned on the vacuum cleaner, and it ended up being insanely powerful. So powerful that it sucked up john’s entire Reuben sandwich from feet away. John watched in undignified horror as his only solace got sucked away by sherlock’s machine. 

“Sorry about the poor aim” sherlock said “Must be the concussion.”

Sherlock finally managed to properly vacuum john clean of all mayonnaise. John was clean and free of mayo, but at the cost of a juicy Reuben sandwich and his sanity. 

John looked to sherlock. “You know, this all could have been avoided if you had just not worn untied shoes around like a madman. Aren’t detectives supposed to be logical and smart?”

Sherlock replied “Yes, well… too late now I suppose. Sorry about the pound of mayo. How about you just tie my shoelaces and I can be on my way to solving another murder case?”

John answered back, “Fine. Sherlock, you’re weird. And you make me feel depressed. But I think I’d still like to get along with you. Lemme see your Louboutins.” John knelt down onto one knee. This was the moment. Finally, he and sherlock would be unified as soulmates! But, john could not have cared less about that. He was mostly just concerned about fixing that idiot’s stupid tangled shoelaces. Finally, sherlock’s vintage Louboutins were tied in a nice, tight bow. If john watson could do one thing right, it was tying good knots. (he had learnt a bunch of different knots during his time in boy scouts back when he was a kid). 

Anyway, John still kinda smelled like mayonnaise. The vacuum cleaner got the surface level stuff off, but it didn’t remove the scent that embedded itself deep into john’s clothing. Sherlock noticed this as he said, “Thanks for *COUGH* tying my shoelaces. Uh, you still smell like mayonnaise.”

“NOW  WHOSE FAULT IS THAT????????” john screeched.

“Yours. You were the one blocking the natural trajectory of the mayonnaise, John. It’s common sense, really.” sherlock replied.

“Sherlock, just…. just go solve your murder case. And PLEASE don’t get any mayo on the crime scene, alright?”

“fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine” 

----

link to previous chapter (chapter 3)

[slashermary]

i’m so obsessed with the fact that when sam dies in apocalypse world dean for the most part keeps his cool. he yells and he pushes and his voice pitches up, but he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t break down, he doesn’t charge past cas after him, he just accepts it with an empty, defeated look and keeps moving. but then the SECOND he sees mary, the moment they’re reunited and she’s so happy and she’s hugging him, he just becomes a little boy in his mommy’s arms!! he just cries!! it doesn’t matter what their relationship is like or how long they’ve been separated or how much dean is trying to shove this down. when your mom hugs you and asks what’s wrong you can’t help but just burst into tears! because your mother’s arms were the first safe place where if you cried hard enough, and she held you tight enough, she could make everything better. so maybe this one last time it’ll work again

[the-faceless-bride]

One for me one for you

Sam x mother!Reader

Slight Micheal x reader (?)

⚠️ GORE ⚠️

You finished smoothing down your hair that stuck out of the dark purple cloak, smiling in the mirror before feeling a tug on your cape.

You look down with a smile, your son stood there cape in one hand and his bucket in the other; "yes, I'm ready let's go!" Sam hops a little and rushes to the door but still waits for you to make your way over, practically vibrating in his spot he was so excited to be going out trick 'r treating!

You take his little hand in yours before walking out, the door shutting behind you on its own. Walking down the small set of stairs to the street, Sam hopped down each step, an almost silent giggle pulled from him at the bottom.

Going from door to door down your street, sometimes you would wait as Sam ran up to the house by himself, others he would drag you with him and help lift him up when he couldn't reach the doorbell.

Smiling at your little boy when he spun around excitedly when he was given a large swirly pop, practically shoving it in your face as he jumped up in a 'look it, look at this awesome thing I have!' Way, "yes Sammy, I can see your swirly pop! Is it yummy?" You asked and he nodded his head pulling himself into your arms to sit on your hip, his feet kicking back and forth as he bopped his head to the song in his head.

But this beautiful domestic moment with your sun was ruined, a group of older kids... And they were NOT spreading nor appreciating the spirit of Halloween.

Sam slowly tugged on your hood, his feet stopped kicking and he wasn't holding his swirly pop up in joy anymore, he held it low his little first clenching the stick, slightly shaking...

You kissed the side of Sam's head before placing him on the ground, watching him carefully as he waddled to the house past the rowdy teens.

One of the older boys stopped and quickly grabbed the attention of his friends, "hey there little guy. What you got there?" The older kid gestured to Sam's rather large bag full of candy.

Sam looked down at his bag, to the swirly pop in his hand, to the group of teens. "Yeah, you plan on sharing any of that?" One of the girls said, Sam stared at her for a moment, while yes he did plan to share with you and his father, he thought these teens deserved a chance to fix their ways.

He looked around counting the kids, five, three boys, and two girls. Sam reached into his bag pulling out three suckers, and two chocolate bars, holding them out to the five teens.

The group of teens looked amongst themselves laughing before the leader dressed as a clown shoved Sam before snatching his candy bag before all five ran off, "thanks for the Candy kid!" Sam sat up looking down at the concrete, the suckers, and Candy bars are strewn about, and his swirly pop was cracked in half.

You rushed over to your son as he looked up at you, a small whimper of sadness left him as he half his arms up to you. "Oh, my poor Sammy" you picked up your son and followed after the awful kids.

Your mother bear instincts were at an all-time high and you weren't going to let these kids get away with this, you were gonna try and convince them to give your son his candy before it's too late.

"Hey!" The kids stopped in their tracks, they were in the middle of going through all the candy in Sam's bag, "get a load of this guy! He got his mommy!" The girl dressed as an Angel laughed and that was Sam's last straw.

Sam jumped from your arms running towards the Angel girl before using his broken swirly pop into her neck and pulling, ripping her throat out. Before turning around and shoving the same pop into the boy that was sitting next to her.

At this point, the other girl and two boys left started to come out of their shock and started to scream and panic, the three teens got up to make a run for it; Sam jumped on the back of one of the running boys biting his neck, you grabbed the other one wrapping your cloak around his head.

After that Sam ran up to you trying to get your attention on the girl that was running away.

But she didn't pose much of a threat as she was stopped as a knife went through her stomach, she looked up seeing a very tall man, his emotionless mask staring down at her.

The knife going in and out of her over and over, the girl collapses and the Man turns to you and Sam.

...."hi honey!" You say and Sam lifts his arms in joy as he runs past you to his father, and you reach down pushing the Angels body over to grab Sam's colorful candy bag.

Walking over to Michael who was holding Sam on his hip, and you hold out the candy bag to Sam.

"Com'on let's go home."

[gretavanlace]

Baby Doll

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, praise, choking, degradation, use of derogatory terms, masturbation, penetration with a foreign object, etc...idk, this one won’t be for everyone

* Sending a little wink to these lovely anons who planted this filthy seed *wink* *wink* ❤️💋

“Please?” you beg, lending a sultry edge to your tone as your fists wrap around his jacket so tightly the sequins dig into your palms. “We can be quick. You look so good…this fucking jacket is just…” you trail off, at a lost for words. He is such a stunning specimen, dripping sex and confidence.

“No, baby doll…” he shakes his head and gently unfurls your grip on him. “Last gig I was so late they had to unload everything without us, remember? Josh is still bitching,”

“Josh is always bitching.” you counter, pressing your body flush against his.

His fingertips drag up the outside of your thigh, but stop just short of dipping under your tiny robe. “Is my poor little girl feeling neglected?”

You nod and throw him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“The same little girl that I had bent over the kitchen counter stretched pretty and pink around my dick less than an hour ago?” His hand inches higher, teasing tender pinches into your flesh…voice placid and relaxed, as if he’s floating in a hammock, basking in the afternoon sun.

Again, you merely nod as your hands find his jacket once more. He looks so mouth-watering in the cropped, glittering shrug found in a thrift shop, undoubtedly donated after the death of an eccentric great aunt. How?

“Greedy...” he breathes, the word falling warm against your neck. “and spoiled. Fucking greedy and spoiled.”

“Yes…” it’s barely a word, hardley a response at all…more of a broken wisp of a moan.

“Well,” his lips are now pressed just below your ear as he sings a soft melody to you. “You can’t always get what you want.”

“Jacob.” you huff in mild annoyance. He’s toying with you and you have little patience for it. “The Beatles are better than the Stones anyway. Shows what you know.”

With a crack on your ass, he points you in the direction of the en suite, a silent order to go get ready. “I won’t listen to such blatant musical blasphemy. I want a divorce.”

“We aren’t even married.” you call over your shoulder with a subtle sway of your hips that you hope might lure him in.

“Okay, I want to marry you, just so I can divorce you.” he’s wandering out of the room, having won this round. “And the shower massager stays in its cradle while you’re in there, baby. We don’t have time for your antics.”

~

“Well look who decided to grace us with a timely arrival for once.” Josh nudges Danny with his elbow, arms struggling around a box overflowing with tangled wires.

Jake skirts around him and hauls out a mic stand. “Shut up, Josh. It was one time, alright? Let it go.”

Sammy appears out of nowhere, as he so often does, looking like he just stretched his way out of a cat nap, slender fingers wrapped around a sweating White Claw. “Yeah, but you didn’t even help!” he jumps in straight away, siding with Josh. “We had to drag everything in – that place had stairs, by the way, and…”

“Samuel,” Danny interjects, dropping a kiss hello upon your cheek before turning to his friend. “You did fuck all besides stand around and complain about the heat.”

“Lies!” Sam shakes his head vehemently and waves off the accusation. “I also got that girl's number.”

“Ah, yes…” Josh nods. “That was very helpful to the rest of us. Thank you, little brother.”

“Welcome.” Sammy shrugs, gracefully dragging the case that bolsters his bass out of the back of the van, before vanishing through the bar’s backdoor.

“Here, let me help.” you reach forward, searching for a box or case in need of carrying, determined to make yourself useful, but Jake puts a quick stop to it.

“My girl isn’t a roadie.” he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in for a chaste kiss.

“You’re right.” you agree, leaning in to kiss him back. “You guys don’t have those.”

“Someday.” he smiles. “You know what we do have though? Perks.”

“Oooh,” you sigh as if the very idea has caused a swoon. “Perks?”

“That’s right, baby. One free drink for each member of the band…and I’m gonna let you have mine.”

A feigned shiver of delight quickly turns very real when he nuzzles your neck. “A free drink?”

“That’s right.” his teeth nip into your earlobe, then he whispers in your ear, like pillow talk, “Bottom shelf only.”

He punctuates himself by wiggling his fingers into your hips, laughing when you giggle and shove him off.

Moving to grab you back in, he’s foiled by the brash sound of his twin brother’s voice barking out at him. “Get a goddamn room. Preferably after you help carry this shit in!”

You watch him tug a large black case effortlessly into his grip with one hand, while pushing Josh’s shoulder to knock him off balance with the other, and then head into the bar to round up that free drink.

~

Now you’re pissed.

Through the first half of the set, you chalked it up to the state you’ve been in all day. You wanted him. Needed him. So of course, everything he did…every minute detail, caught and held your attention. You’re aching for him, so he couldn’t be held responsible for the state he had you in, right?

Wrong. Because as he struts closer to the edge of the tiny stage, and thrusts his hips forward into his guitar, cocking his head to the side as his fingers fly across the frets so rapidly they blur…you know. When his beautiful brown eyes flutter and then flash to yours with a wolfish grin, you long to duck and cover. Whatever he’s cooking up in that devious mind of his won’t be helpful to your current situation.

His eyes never leave yours, and his fingers remain toying with the neck of his Gibson, coaxing pulsing whines and screams out of his amp, as he reaches for the Guiness he’s almost killed. He brings it to his lips, drains the dredges, and then…like the sadistic son of a bitch you know him to be…he drags the bottle slowly down his strings, creating a mournful cry.

Your thighs slam together as a silent moan sounds off inside your head.

Fuck this guy. You think. Haughty, and annoyed, and just so damn hungry for him. Fuck. This. Guy.

The smirk that he tries to hide breaks through and you want to smack him square in his pretty face. You want to fuck yourself on his pretty cock. You want to smack his pretty face while you fuck his pretty cock.

You catch him staring down at your clenched thighs, looking highly pleased with himself. He enjoys the game far too much, but you like to play too. So, in the spirit of sportsmanship, you part those thighs of yours that he’s so smugly inspecting. Just enough that if someone looked closely, they might catch a flash of your panties up your skirt.

Narrowing his stare, his expression burns hot as his jaw flexes firmly to ensure his demand is heeded. Close your fucking legs.

Well, look who can’t take the heat but won’t get his ass out of the kitchen.

Not to be rushed by a man who is clearly attempting to take you apart in the middle of a dive bar, you slowly cross your legs but still manage to show far too much thigh. Oops.

~

“You know, they say that’s a sign of sexual frustration?” Sammy points down to where you’re picking away at the label of your beer.

The set is long over, and the five of you are now scattered around a pool table as Josh and Jake battle it out, albeit poorly, with sticks in their hands.

You’ve never heard that before. Not surprising, though…Sam is a veritable forest of mostly useless information.

The inventor of Pringles is actually buried in a Pringles can. Rainbows were once called bows of promise. People used to answer the phone “Ahoy” instead of “Hello”.

These facts of his almost always sound made up, but they always check out, and you’ve long since stopped googling to double check him.

“Really?”

“Really.” he confirms grimly before turning his attention to his brother. “Is someone not doing his job, Jacob?”

“I do my job just fine.” Jake’s patience is very obviously wearing thin as he misses the shot he’s been lining up.

“That true, shortcake?” Sammy prods, offering you a conspiratorial wink that Jake can’t see. Let’s stir him up a little, shall we? It seems to say. He also knows his innocent pet name for you, chosen because you’re shorter than even the twins by at least a head, makes you blush.

“Usually.” you sigh, holding Jake’s stare when it catches yours.

“Usually.” Josh laughs infectiously, dragging you right along with him until Jake’s face sets into concrete irritation that seems like it may never dissipate.

Your laughter dies down as he shoves his pool stick into the rack on the wall and stalks toward you. “Your shot.” he points out to his twin, clipped and venomous, eyes still fixed on yours.

His mouth, warm and soft, finds your cheek and then sweeps up languidly. To anyone else, it would look like a sweet, intimate moment between two lovers in the darkness of a hole in the wall pub. In reality…

“Watch yourself, babydoll.” he warns, low and slow against the shell of your ear.

“You watch yourself.” you snap back quietly. “Fuck you and your beer bottle slide. I know what you were doing, whore.”

His head jerks back so his stunned eyes can assess yours. “Did you just…did you really just call me a whore?”

Your spine straightens defiantly with a terse nod. “Yes, I did. Because that’s what you are. Up there on stage trying to make me wet for you. Probably not even just me, probably trying to make everyone in here desperate for this.” Your hand cups his cock through his skin tight jeans, your actions hidden by his body and the corner you happen to be seated in.

“You want that?” he rasps, pressing into your palm.

“I always do.” your continued touch is a challenge, a game of chicken, who will be the first to veer off the road? “Are you gonna give it to me? Or does someone else get it tonight?”

He grabs your chin and guides your line of sight around the sad little bar, filled with no more than a handful of equally sad men staring down into their beers as if reading tea leaves. “See this crowd?” he jerks your face around with mindful authority until you nod.

“This bar could be bursting at the seams with gorgeous, fuckable, women, and you’re still the only one I’d see.” he dips his thumb into your mouth and allows you to suck it, like his favorite little baby, for just a moment before pulling away with a wet pop.

You lean forward slightly, searching…he takes great satisfaction in this. “Look at you, baby doll. Is that sweet mouth lonely?”

A hum through a bite of your bottom lip is your only reply, but he seems to like that just fine. “Maybe I’ll see if I can find you a lollipop.”

“Jakey…” you beg him with your eyes.

“Calm your pretty self down, yeah?” he grins, backing away. “We’ve got all night.”

You hate him. You love him. You love to hate him. In these moments, fuck how you love to hate him.

~

You’ve spent the remainder of the night digging yourself into a hole, nice and deep.

Smarting off to him, flirting with his brothers, spurning his touch one moment…seeking it out the next. You’ve perched yourself on his lap, moving far more often than necessary, swatting him away when he attempts to hold you still, swatting him away some more when he attempts to make you rock against him.

His cock is throbbing beneath you when the others drift off to put a pinball challenge Danny has set forth into play.

“You feel nice, baby.” you purr, spinning the stir straw in your vodka tonic, which is now mostly ice. “So hard and warm…will you take me into the bathroom and let me feel it, hard and warm, inside?”

You’re staring down at the table, facing away from him, so you aren’t privy to his expression, but you hear the sharp intake of his breath. Then you almost feel the split second decision ripple through him. He isn’t ready to give you your way. Not yet.

“No…” his palms splay out over your thighs. “And shouldn’t you be ashamed of yourself? This bar is filthy, and here you are asking me to take you into the bathroom. Fucking dirty.”

His mouth moves over the dip of your shoulder as he admonishes you. When you move to rise off of his lap, he pulls you back down firmly…a reminder of who is in charge. “You will sit here like a lady and wait patiently until I decide to take you home and ruin you with this cock you want so badly. Plan to wreck that snug little cunt, doll. Gonna fuck it wide open. When I’m good and ready.”

Fuck…

As much as you want to give in and obey him like a servant groveling at the feet of her king, there is a flame of defiance within you that he’s never been able to truly extinguish. Perhaps because he knows you would like it to remain lit. Perhaps because he would like it to remain lit.

Either way, that tiny blue blaze flickers strong in your belly, and you allow it to guide your disobedience.

“No, I will not sit like a lady and wait.” you bite back, sounding much stronger than you actually feel. You move to stand but his hands delve into your hips, dull nails digging into your flesh through your clothes.

“Red.” you speak the word with a delicate hint of sovereignty you don’t actually feel…but you’ll act the part anyway.

His hands rip away so quickly you might as well be on fire. “Sorry…” he murmurs, taking on that strangely formal, yet attractive, tone that only lends itself to his cadence during interviews. Usually. “Sorry, baby doll…fuck, m’sorry.” his mouth is now moving along your neck as his hands grip the table in front of you. He’s being mindful that you can see them.

“Don’t be.” you assure him lovingly. “Just remember your place.”

You watch his knuckles turn white as he clutches at the wood in a quiet frenzy. “Remember my place?” His voice is rumbling thunder, threatening a storm.

You rise off of his lap, immediately mourning the warmth and sturdiness of his body, and turn to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you murmur huskily into his ear. “To get off all by myself because you think it’s cute to tease.”

Without waiting for a response, you saunter off with the heat of his gaze lighting your path.

You expect him to follow, to be pressed up against you before you’ve even made it through the door…but you’re able to close and lock it all by your lonesome. You don’t really plan to do anything, you don’t want to take matters into your own hands, you want his hands.

All over you. Grabbing at you, drifting across your flesh, prying your legs apart, slipping inside, filling you, coaxing you closer and closer to that sweet, sweet end. You want to feel the kiss of his rings against you, his hand wrapped around your neck while the other fucks into you until you’ve soaked him, until you’re rolling down his wrist and shivering each time he tucks into that blissful spot inside.

Leaning against the wall, you survey the dingy, cramped little room that smells of cheap air freshener and stale liquor. It’s poorly lit, but, with an annoyed sigh, you lean forward and inspect your makeup in the blurry, smudged mirror. You expected him to come after you, you really did…and the rejection would sting if you didn’t understand that he is every bit as stubborn as you are.

You’re straightening your skirt, preparing to head back out, when a swift knock sounds against the door.

“Just a second.” you call out, feeling inexplicably embarrassed.

Jake’s voice, stern and commanding, responds “Unlock this fucking door.”

You swing it open with a satisfied smirk. He’s hunted you after all. “Hey, Jakey…can I help you?”

In a blink, he has pushed his way into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Sealing you both into a grimy tomb that is filled with the muffled thumps of a jukebox and sexual tension.

“What makes you think you can misbehave this way?” he asks, walking you backward until you meet the sink. “What could have ever given you the impression that I’d take your bullshit with a smile on my face? Hmm?”

Stunned into silence by his tone, you watch as he swigs at his bottle of beer, downing the last of it before swiping the back of his hand across his plush, pink mouth.

“Asked you a question, baby doll.” He raises your face to meet his own with the neck of his lager hooked beneath your chin. “Answer it.”

“I’m sorry, Jakey.” you pant, airy and full of want. When he gets this way, it’s infatuating. “I didn’t mean to misbehave. I only wanted you to fuck me.” Your hand grazes the fly of his jeans with a soft moan. “Just missed your pretty cock. That’s all.”

His finger finds your lips in a silent ‘shh’ “You most certainly did mean to misbehave, troublemaker. Spreading your legs in a bar full of old men who probably haven’t seen a cunt as tight and pink as yours in years. Sitting on my lap, making me hard…” he switches to a high pitched voice that mocks you. “Red.” Now his fingers are wrapped around your throat. “Don’t you ever fucking safeword again unless you mean it. Am I clear?”

You swallow hard against his grasp and nod slowly. “Yes.”

He nods back, just as slowly. “Nice to see you’re listening again. I’d call you a good girl, but we both know that isn’t true tonight, don’t we? So what’s that make you, baby doll? Tell me.”

Eyes burning into his, you answer without hesitation. “That makes me a bad girl. I’m a bad girl, and I’m sorry for it.”

“Yes you are…” his knee knocks your thighs apart. “And do bad girls get what they want?”

“No.” you sigh, tense under his stare…he is radiating lust– hot, fierce desire.

He tilts his head as if he doesn’t already know “And what is it that you want?”

“Your cock.” your tongue slips out, searching for his mouth. You can’t reach, but he takes pity on you and pulls you into a deep, aching kiss before wrenching you back.

“So what won’t you be getting?” He leads, condescendingly.

“Your cock.” you repeat, sounding despondent. Your pulse is pounding in your clit, panties soaked and clinging to you, hips rocking into nothing, seeking friction that isn’t there.

“Well look at that. She may be a troublemaker, but she isn’t stupid.” his fingers drag up your thigh until he meets the dripping silk hiding your cunt away.

When your hips jerk from the counter and into his touch, he pulls back. “Eager, aren’t we, doll? And for what? Already told you that you won’t be getting any cock. So why are you so excited?”

“Please…” you’re whining and grabbing at him without shame.

“Please, what?” he’s taunting you, torturing you, dragging this out.

“Fuck me.” your fingers are latched around his necklaces. “Please…I just…fuck…”

He pets at your hair sweetly. “You just what?”

A tiny sob escapes you…he’s just all around you. Consuming you. The way he sounds, and smells…the way he makes you feel. The way he makes you want. “I need to feel full. Please, Jakey. I’m your baby doll, aren’t I? Don’t you want to make your baby feel good?”

“Jesus…” he shudders, faltering for just a moment, before kissing your cheek. “Yeah, you’re my baby doll, but I meant what I said…you can’t have this.” he digs his hot, hard, cock into your thigh. “You haven’t earned it.”

“Fingers?” you question hopefully, struggling to articulate thoughts, you want him so badly. “Your mouth?”

He hesitates, searching your face, turning something over in his mind, until he reaches behind you and snatches up the empty beer bottle he discarded on the counter behind you. Eyes on yours, he holds it up between your faces silently.

An embarrassing, animalistic, sound bursts out of your chest and he shakes his head in disbelief. “Panties down. Now.”

They are stretched around your thighs in a breath as he purses his lips to suppress a smile.

“Your cunt is slutty, you know that?” he whispers, nudging the lip of the bottle into your thigh. “You’re slutty. We’re in a goddamn bar bathroom…it’s disgusting in here, and any minute some drunk, dirty old man is gonna knock on the door and you don’t even care. You don’t care,” he shrugs, to illustrate his point, and eases the bottle upward. “You’ve got your legs spread for me, trembling all sweet and pretty, waiting for me to fuck you with a beer bottle. What the fuck is wrong with you, baby? You’re sick. Fucking twisted.”

“What’s wrong with you?” you gasp when the glass sweeps over your clit at last.

There’s a devilish gleam in his eyes when he answers. “Plenty. There’s fucking plenty wrong with me.”

“Show me.” you beg, rocking your hips up in an attempt to force the bottle inside you.

“Say please like a good girl. Ask nicely.” the amber glass skates across your overheated center, cold and shocking. “Where’s my proper little girl with all those finishing school manners?”

“Please…” the word shakes out of you as if your body is set to spin cycle. “Jake, fuck, please…”

In reply, he lifts the bottle to your lips “Suck.”

Your mouth descends down around the neck as if it were his beautiful cock, and he pushes it in further, until you’re gagging around it.

“Oh, that’s nice, doll…sounds pretty, pretty, pretty. I can’t even feel it, and you’re still working so hard to please me. Gag, baby…that’s it. So beautiful.”

He slips it in deeply, until you're retching around it while still trying to swallow it down further. “You want it inside?” he breathes against the curve of your neck as you suck away at it.

You nod urgently, allowing a groan of desire to shudder out of your tightened chest.

The bottle dips down, dragging a lazy trail until it's circling your soaked entrance. Your hips rock and thrust forward, trying to force his hand.

“Look at you…” he sounds smugly pleased. “Chasing it like a whore. Is that what you are? Is my baby nothing but a whore? All innocent eyes and a soaked pussy?”

“For you…” you whine, thighs quivering as your body vibrates with unbridled desperation. You reach down and grab at the bottle “I know I don’t deserve anything, I was mouthy, and I teased you…but please, Jakey. Please?”

“Begging…” he scoffs. “For a beer bottle in her cunt. Who’s my fuck whore? Hmm? Who’s my darling little slut?”

“I am…” you preen, spreading wider, inviting whatever he is willing to bestow upon you. “I’m your whore. You want to give your whore what she needs, don’t you, baby?”

Again, his body shakes at your wanton display, but he doesn’t own his vulnerability for long. Instead, he’s nudging the bottle inside you tenderly. Your thighs part as best they can with your panties caged around them. “Thatta girl, baby…take it. Just fucking take it.”

Your head should be heavy with shame…you should be telling him to stop, pushing him away, rejecting the complete obscenity of it all. Instead, your fingernails dig into the back of his neck for leverage as you begin to ride the smooth, cool glass.

“Look at you,” he twists his wrist. “All up on your tiptoes…that’s fucking adorable. How’s that feel, sweetheart? You like that?”

A frenzied nod, followed by a choking sob echoes into the room, but he doesn’t bother to hush you. “Harder, Jake…” you whine, tugging at his hair.

“No.” he slides two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the cradle of your tongue when your lips part with a tiny wail. “Gotta be careful, baby doll. I don’t want to hurt you with it.”

“I don’t care.” you argue around his skin, licking and biting at him as he presses his digits deeper.

“Well, I do.” his pace remains cautious, but he tilts the bottle into your sweet spot, earning a gasping sob. “Yeah, see? Just shut your mouth, baby. I’ll get you there…you know I will.”

Your hand drops down, fingers frantically circling your slick, swollen clit.

“That’s my girl.” he coos into your ear, licking through his words. “Gonna help me take care of this filthy little cunt of yours? You’re a naughty, disgusting fucking slut and I fucking love it. I fucking love you. Maybe I’ll put it in your ass when I get you home, since you’re so in love with my cock…I bet you’d let me put it anywhere I wanted, huh? Bet you’d let me fuck your pretty ass and then slide down your throat, wouldn’t you?”

You’ve lost the ability to think, so you simply suck on his fingers and allow your eyes to roll back in your head.

“Can’t even answer me?” he teases, shoving into your mouth until you gag and tears pool in your eyes. “Cock drunk and stupid on a beer bottle. What’s everyone out there gonna think when you stumble out looking like a sloppy, fucked-out whore?”

“Mmmmjake…” muffles out of your mouth. You’re so close your entire body feels feverish…burning up from the inside out.

“C’mon, baby doll…” he whispers, twisting the neck of the bottle inside you. “Give it to me…cum for me. I want it, baby…fuck, I want it so bad.”

He suddenly sounds even more desperate than you feel and the need in his voice grabs hold of the white hot band coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach and rips it apart.

Your teeth sink into his knuckles until he hisses in pain as your vision blurs, your body writhing and fighting the unimaginable pleasure. Until something breaks, and rather than fighting it, you allow it to happen, you relax into it and crumple in his arms, safe and sure in his embrace.

“Fuck…” the curse drags out of him slow and rasping. He sounds transfixed, but you aren’t sure why until the fog clears a bit.

You’re soaked…thighs and panties covered, as is his hand and the arm of his jacket.

“Look what you did.” His loving scolding sounds winded, like he’s never loved anything more in his entire life. He eases the bottle out of you and brings it to his lips, lapping his tongue in a slow stripe along the side, tasting you…savoring you with heavy lidded eyes.

“Take me home.” you breathe, watching his tongue lick along the glass.

“No.” he answers off-handedly. “Oh, look at that, baby.” he holds it up, shimmying it around to draw attention to the liquid now gathered at the bottom of the beer bottle. “Caught some.”

In stunned, mute, lust-drenched awe, you watch as he tilts his head back and swallows it down before tossing it into the overflowing trash can in the corner.

He adjusts his very obviously swollen cock in his jeans and then turns you to face the sink. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Can’t have anyone suspecting what you just let me do to you in here, now can we?”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gardenofgreta @greta-van-chaos @theweightofstardust @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @paintmyhouse @dvrkblooms @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @kdarling1 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretasmokerising @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @tripthelightfandomtastic @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @dakotadovato @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @joshkiszkas @avagvf @rhythm-of-space @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @loofypoofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @gretavanflowerpower @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @calumspretty @weightofdreams-gvf @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @agirlwithmanytastes @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails

[lunareclipsee]

a little thing that’s been in my head for a min

so sam takes darlin to a clan meeting bc it’s about quinn, and will wanted someone who was in close quarters with quinn for a long period of time in order to give the clan an actual idea of who they were up against

before it starts, everyone’s kinda lingering outside (vincent talking to lovely, fred and bright standing close to eachother bc they’re the only people they’re close to besides sam, and a couple of others dicking around before war talk) and darlin’ doesn’t even need to feel sam’s slight change in demeanor to know that the bitch that just walked in was alexis.

darlin involuntarily half-shifts, just making themselves bigger and more imposing, nobody touches him-

will eventually calls everyone in and they discuss war shit, how there’s rumor of quinn massmaking an army, how they fight newly turned vamps, how many allies they had, how they would go about it.

then, it’s darlin’s turn to dish on quinn. how they met him, how he manipulated them, how he made them believe that everyone was out to get them, how he kept them under him for so long. and how he would try to pull shit with everyone he could. he didn’t trance, he had never really felt the need to. getting people to follow his every order without magic gave him some sort of rush, it was his MO

sam was beside them the entire time, of course, subtly leaning into them, letting them know he was there.

after the meeting, sam and darlin’ walked out together and alexis was waiting with someone and she says smth like

“what a cute little guard dog, sammy. does it do tricks?”

sam tries to lead darlin away, because he knows who will win that fight and he really doesn’t want to deal with the fallout, but they get out a little jab before he can.

“i dunno, leech, wanna come over here and find out?”

now, a little background. darlin’ was absolutely raised country. up at 4:30, make breakfast, feed the animals, clean the pastures, all that. to be able to be around huge animals that early, they had to be quick on their feet. one second too late and they have a broken limb, a broken rib, or worse.

poor alexis doesn’t even fucking stand a chance. she leads with her left foot, so she’s ending up on the right of a half-shifted wolf who has her by the throat in a vice grip, not letting go. darlin’ may be a tank, but they’re not stupid. they know how to fight.

now, alexis is just playing along at first. looking all scared before sporting this cocky ass grin, but once she realizes she can’t get out? she’s beating at darlin’s arms begging sam to “get his mutt” and at that comment he just kinda throws his hands up like ‘not my problem anymore’

darlin gets her on the ground and gets in two punches before they’re pulled off

(it takes both will and vincent to keep darlin’ from breaking alexis’ nose, though vincent almost “accidentally” lost his grip. lovely is cheering darlin’ on bc they never liked alexis, especially after hearing what she did.)

[lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs]

Realization

Gosh this took a while. The longest piece of mine so far I think. Be ready. It's the only warning you will get :)

It wasn't a good day for Norman.

Sammy told him off for...something. A bent gear or a broken wire. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, and he didn't listen much to the musician's words, more resentful of the disgruntled tone in his direction. Then the musician grabbed him under the elbow and led him out of the village. It was the kind of grip that made it clear it was better not to even try to break out.

So now he had to make the long walk from the Lost Ones’ Village to the toy factory. And all the while he had to listen to the lectures from the prophet. Sure, Norman loved that voice, adored it with all his inky heart(even though he sometimes had to doubt its existence) but damn it, no one likes being scolded! To any "Can you hear me?" from Sammy, Norman answered with muffled white noise. He could hear him, but he hardly listened.

When they reached the floor of the factory - or what was left of it -Norman didn't touch anything, lest he provoke a second round of reprimands. He didn't want to risk it.

Everything was quiet. Even Sammy had calmed down and was now busy carefully pulling out the parts he needed from the frozen machines. Norman just looked at him and involuntarily thought, "A talented man is talented at everything." And only the projectionist would want to get lost for half an hour in thoughts about what a wonderful and hardworking musician and...oh, Norman had already been called out and now it was time to go back. Well, at least the journey was quickly coming to an end.

They were on their way down the stairs, already halfway down the floors, when ink tendrils started to appear on the walls. Sammy put his hand on his head, and they both stopped in their tracks to start looking around. Neither of them expected the Ink Demon to appear right in front of them, though.

Norman's instincts took over. Grabbing the poor musician in his arms, he rushed back, hoping to get away from the Demon. But the lord of ink seemed bored with killing ordinary Searchers, and he was unwilling to give up new targets. The projectionist running a circle around the floor didn't do much to save the situation; he couldn't find a single Miracle Station to hide in.

Being cornered was terrifying.

With his back against the closed doors of the elevator shaft, he hissed and growled mechanically at the approaching demon. The musician in his arms shrank back, clutching his head and wheezing in pain. Norman knew that it wasn't just this wimp with horns that was a danger to Sammy; it was its aura that was literally driving him insane.

Time was running out. The demon was getting closer.

On an impulse, the projectionist turned around, grabbed the dissociating prophet with one hand, grabbed hold of one of the doors with the other, and began to pull. Surprisingly, the door moved. With a scraping sound the shaft was open, and a couple of floors below, the roof of the elevator cabin was visible. Norman simply tossed the half-crazed musician into it and let the doors close, immediately lunging at the Demon. He wanted to give the devil a good fight, one he would never be able to forget.

The demon immediately grabbed him by the throat. Very soon all drowned in darkness. There were no images, no sounds, no sensations. It was as if he'd just been turned off from reality.

Huh. Turns out dying isn't as scary as they say.

Too bad he couldn't apologize to Sammy, though.

***

When Norman woke up, he was floating in the ink. He didn't immediately know where was up and where was down in that thick, sticky darkness, so it took him quite a while to get to the surface. It was a good thing the monster didn't need to breathe. It was also a good thing he wasn't dragged away by other monsters. The projectionist found himself in the river, the same branching ink river which led to the Lost Ones Village. Alas, he was not in the branch that led back home, but in another. His lens was also smeared with ink, blocking Norman’s ability to see. The fact that his hands were made of the same ink did nothing to help him.

When his attempts to regain his sight failed, the projectionist simply sat on the ground, hissing irritably. He was tired and getting angry. How had he ever gone from a simple studio corridor to this bloody river in the first place! And anyway, wasn't he supposed to be...

Oh.

Oh.

Gotta find Sammy.

Stumbling at almost every step, Norman walked up and down the little "shore." To the delight of the projectionist, in a corner of this little piece of land stood an equally small rowboat. Of course, in his condition it would be easy to get lost in all these intertwining tunnels, but it was better than staying here.

***

The Lost Ones met him. At first, they scattered away from him, as if he were just another Searcher or some other mindless monster. But then, even if fearfully, they approached him. Some just sheepishly touched him, as if to make sure he wasn't a ghost, while some helped wipe the ink off the projector. But at some point, they slowly parted and pointed to a small structure in the center of one of the walls. The place where Sammy lived.

That's right. Sammy. How was he doing? He must be mad at Norman for his antics... How loudly would he yell at him? Would he reprimand him? Didn’t matter, as long as he saw that sweet lack of a face and heard that sweet and familiar voice again. At an orderly pace, he headed toward the house (if this pathetic excuse could be called that) and stopped at the entrance. After hesitating a little, he entered.

Norman didn't see the prophet immediately; he was kneeling in the farthest corner from the entrance, whispering something. Norman could barely make out the words, but it sounded like Sammy was praying and... apologizing?

Could it be that... this was his way of mourning the "death" of the projectionist? Honestly, Norman was flattered and somehow even amused. The musician clearly hadn't noticed his guest and didn't react in any way to his presence. The projectionist tapped quietly on the wall. This caught Sammy's attention and he turned around.

There was a long pause. The musician's emotions were hard to read because of the mask, but Norman had that persistent feeling you get before a storm hits.

The prophet rose and slowly, somehow unnaturally smoothly, approached him, gingerly reaching out and touching the side of the projector. As if unaware of the blinding light, the musician stared at the projectionist for a long time, as if trying to figure out if what was happening was real. Norman didn't move the whole time. He was ready for a scandal. He was ready to be reprimanded like a naughty child. God, he even was ready for a slap in the face or a punch in the gut. What he wasn't ready for was to have a hand on his shoulder and be dragged into an embrace.

He stood there, a little bent over and holding his head high, not daring to put it on the prophet's shoulder and wondering how real the life was. He felt how unusually tight, yet gentle, this embrace was. Even as a human, Sammy had never done anything like that. But the surprises didn't end there.

“You had me worried.” Norman noticed an intonation he'd never heard from Sammy. The musician spoke softly, but there was much more emotion in his voice than when he raised it. “You frightened me. No, I was terrified.” Sammy’s voice became even softer, as if trying to hold back tears. “I hope you're pleased with yourself. So, please...I beg of you...never do that again.”

Norman felt the embrace grow a little tighter. He felt the musician's hands shake finely as his fingers dug into his back a little, as if afraid to let him go.

He felt a wave of guilt wash over him because of the poor prophet, who must have been feeling uneasy and blaming himself for not being able to keep his only friend safe.

Norman finally responded to the embrace by gently wrapping his arms around the musician and resting his head on his shoulder. He hugged him as tightly as he could, careful not to overdo it or hurt him accidentally. It was his way of promising Sammy that he would never make him worry again. He hoped the musician would understand that.

Still, Norman couldn't help but feel that warmth somewhere inside him. He was important to Sammy. Perhaps as important as Sammy was to him. It was probably selfish, but Norman wanted to believe that maybe Sammy loved him.

And he didn't really care if the musician himself realized it. Nor did he care what kind of love it was, platonic or...something more.

As long as he was loved, any risk, any trauma was worth it.

[zodiyack]

Light-Stick

Requested by @psychkunox​: (Been so long since I requested other than Peaky) But can you do a Supernatural one, Dean x Reader insp to the ep "Regarding Dean."

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff?, tired/probably poor writing

Words: 1,218

Summary: (See Request?)

Note: So, if you couldn’t tell by the title, this revolves mainly around the scene wherein Sam and Dean are at the motel. Sorry if this sucks :\

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @psychkunox​,

Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

The phone rang, vibrating the table with it. “Unknown Caller”. Sam looked away from his laptop and picked up the phone without hesitation. Y/n watched from the seat across, taking slow sips of her morning drink of choice. “Hello?”

“...Sam?”

Upon hearing his brother’s voice, his shoulders hunched and his empty hand came up, an “are-you-shitting-me” type of attitude immediately replacing his calmed expression. “Dude! Where the hell have you been?” At Sam’s sudden change of tone, along with his question, Y/n widened her eyes and tilted her head, no longer half asleep.

“Uhhh I’m not really sure about that.”

“Well- where are you now?”

“Um, not really sure about that either.... I um... Oh!” Dean laughed on the other end, “I’m starvin’. How you feel about waffles?”

Sam’s face morphed with confusion, drawing Y/n’s interest even more. He muttered a bit, struggling to form a word before he picked one, “What?”

“Dumb question. Right. What psycho doesn’t love waffles? I mean they’re fluffy with little pockets full of syrup you just cover ‘em with whip cream, right? Anyway, meet me at Waldo’s, alright?”

Sam could barely think of something to say with the amount of time given to him. Dean hung up leaving Sam thinking 100 miles per second. Y/n made eye contact with her boyfriend’s brother, raising a brow as to ask for the story.

“Was that Dean?”

“Mhm.”

“Where was he?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Did he not tell you?”

“No, actually, he doesn’t even know. He said to meet him at Waldo’s for waffles and then hung up.”

Y/n paused, scrunching her brows together in thought. Then she nodded with a shrug, “Sounds like Dean to me.”

Dean met Sam’s eyes as he walked into the building. “Hey...” he drawled. The first thing he did as the two sat down was sigh and tap his head, “You brought my girlfriend but did you bring any of the uh-” Sam took the bottle of pills out of his pocket and shook it, like an owner would a dog treat to their eager pup. “Yes!”

“Sounded like you could use it.”

“Oh man,” Dean whispered as he opened the bottle.

“Rough night?” Y/n’s eyes followed her boyfriend’s every movement. Dean after drinking, whether it be drunk or hungover, never ceased to entertain her. Dean shook his head.

“Rough morning.” He poured some into his hand, using his coffee to wash down the pills rather than water. 

Sam watched with amusement as well, chuckling a little. “What happened? I mean, you just went out to get some food.”

Dean raised his free hand to emphasize his shrug as he set the mug down. “I dunno.”

“What does that mean?”

“I- I guess I blacked out... And judging from this hangover,” he nodded his head, “it was epic.”

Sam looked to Y/n for context, however, all he got was a raise of her shoulders. She hadn’t been with him last night, so there was no way she was involved with his drunken state.

“Well, we tried to call you-”

“Oh.” Dean held up his broken phone, making Sam sigh and Y/n look down in disappointment. “Not sure how that happened.”

“Great. Alright, well I’ll text mom and make sure she knows you’re going with me in case of emergency and Cas, in case he tracks down Kelly.”

Dean slowed his chewing down as his brows furrowed, tilting his head to meet Sam’s eyes. Sam raised his brows in response. “The- mother of Lucifer’s love child?”

“Right. Right. Yes, the, devil-baby-mama drama... Heh, say that five times fast. Devil-baby-mama drama.”

Once again, Sam sighed at his brother’s antics, though, Y/n couldn’t help but giggle a bit. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, “Alright, Dean, you know, uh, you’ve had a good run, but uh, maybe let’s pump the brakes a little bit. I mean you’re not twenty anymore...”

Dean froze, staring at his brother. Amusement was nowhere to be seen on his face, which was quite rare. “Okay, one, the Rat Pack partied till the day they died and b, I can still kick your ass.”

“Finish your waffles, tough guy. I’m sure you have some work to do.” Y/n snickered. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll catch up with you guys later. Call me if you need me, okay?” She raised her brows as she waited for Dean to nod, then pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out the door, waving goodbye to the brothers.

“Hey... I came as soon as I could-” Y/n opened the door and stepped into the room, closing it behind her.

“Thank you- I-”

“My girlfriend? Really Sammy?”

He ignored his brother, whispering as quietly but frantically as he could.“Dean’s been acting weird.”

“Like Dean weird? Or...”

“No no, Dean has not been acting weird, Dean has been acting like Dean.” The man in question interjected, waving his finger around.

Sam spun back around to face Y/n, pointing to Dean. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Didn’t plan on it. ...Why is there a sticky note with the word lamp on the lamp?”

“Because Dean called it-”

“A lamp.”

“A light stick.” Sam glared at Dean.

Y/n covered her mouth, attempting to keep it contained, but to no avail; laughter poured from her lips uncontrollably. Dean seemed to find offence in it.

“Why the hell are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry bub, but... can you blame me? ‘Light stick’. Sounds like some holy shit if you ask me. Or maybe Starwars. Lightsaber?”

Sam squinted at her in confusion. He shook his head. “Not the point- listen, do you think we can do anything?”

“I’m not sure...”

“I’ll call someone, give me a minute.” Sam walked over to the other side of the room and began to pace.

The voice on the other end was inaudible to Dean and Y/n, but Sam filled in the most he could with his responses.

“Yeah, well, we need your help Rowena.”

“C’mon man, Rowena? I mean- tch- Hey!” Dean bent over into the mini-fridge, pulling out two little bottles of- “Tiny vodkas! Score!” He smiled and shook the bottles with a chuckle.

“This is serious. Look- I think Dean’s been hexed, okay? He- he’s been forgetting things... He’s not drunk!”

Dean held the empty ice-container in his arm, the lid in his other hand. “We need ice.”

Sam turned to Dean’s voice, then turned his head back around and shook his head, holding up a finger, an unspoken “one minute please”.

Y/n chortled as Dean continued to silently gesture with the lid to the container.

“What? ...I don’t know? Uh- And I’m not checking either! ....How do I break it? ...Got it.” Sam hung up, spinning back around to face the two, “Alright so- ...Dean?”

Y/n lifted her head from the lamp, her fingers toying with the sticky note. “Huh?”

“Where’d he go?”

“I- I don’t know...”

They looked toward the door, opened ajar just slightly, then back to each other. “Dean!?” Sam raced out the door.

Y/n looked back to the lamp and the yellow note between her fingers. She chuckled, remembering what Dean said. “Light stick.” More chuckles rang out before Sam’s voice brought her back to reality.

“Y/n! C’mon!”

“Right, sorry!” She raced out the door, following behind. “...Light-stick...Never calling another lamp a ‘lamp’ again.”