#Sammy is so fucking goofy it’s hot!

[ari-lawrence-polk]

“Remember who you are Lawrence…”

Took over 4 hours and I absolutely love it.. for now. First drawing where the hands look fine as hell

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The background a little goofy goober 😋

[hockybish]

https://www.tumblr.com/hockybish/757825679573352448/does-sammy-like-maisiemaisie-like-sammy-because-i

Maybe you can have Svea and Maisie be drunk on Instagram live and spill some tea about Sammy and then maybe Jack FaceTimes Svea upset/mad but then Luke FaceTimes after Jack does and is proud. Also maybe include Nico having to come to the apartment to turn the live off

anon: This is the same anon who asked this and I had already sent in an idea for this but I have another one which is like what if you do Maisie and Svea are together hanging out at Svea's and Sammy goes Live which then makes Maisie and Svea go live "drunk" spilling things about Sammy while Luke and Nico are hanging out together at his apartment then both guys go to Svea's to get the girls sobered so then Jack late at night FaceTimes Svea or something mad/upset because Sammy had come up with this plan of tearing apart his relationships Svea and Maisie

a/n: I hope this doesn't come across as Svea or Maisie as mean girls

Anything in italics is when they are live! Anything in pink and italics is when Sammy is live!

"She is doing it again" Maisie scoffed. She opened instagram and tapped on her boyfriend's brother's girlfriend's icon that was indicating that she was live.

"She broke up with him only so she could start sleeping Farabee and Barzal again!"

Svea took another swig of vodka that was less than half full now as they both watched as Sammy began subtly talking about them. She passed the bottle and Maisie took some too.

"Oh and don't get me started on the other Maisie." Sammy sneered when she said Maisie's name. "She's so quiet and annoying. We have to be really careful around her. I mean what even is an extroverted introvert?"

The blonde Swede looked over at her American friend who almost looked embarrassed by what Jack's girlfriend was slipping to everyone.

"We should go live too!" Maize shook her head. It was decided that they would go live on Maisie's insta, since she had more followers. They each took another sip of their alcohol again.

"Ready?" Svea looked at the Maisie. Maisie burped, giggling and shaking her head. Svea hugged Maisie and gave a friendly kiss in her hair.

"Hi all Maisie's really super cool people." Svea gave a goofy drunk smile. "I'm Svea and thats Maisie May May." Maisie waved at the phone.

The two girls made small talk about various things, waiting for the right time to start inserting their tea. They got the opportunity when someone in the comments asked in the comments where Sammy was.

"Where is Sammy? Why would she be here? She doesn't like us." Maisie slurred.

"Yeah, we tried to be her friend, but apparently we aren't cool enough. That just means more goodies for us!" Svea grabbed one of the cookies that Maisie made for girls night.

"You know they're fighting again."

"OOO what's it about this time?"

"Jack liking the the pictures of girls again. I mean what's wrong with like pictures of hot girls?"

"What did Jack get her this time? Another purse?"

"And a pair of Christian Louboutins" Svea mouthed wow, Maisie nodded along.

"You have to be really insecure in your relationship to to get mad about that. And you know I wouldn't care if Nico did that because I know that he loves me." Svea admitted.

"You guys know she tried to get with Luke before she decided to fuck around with Jack, and she makes Lukey so uncomfortable we have to leave whenever she comes over."

They continued going back and forth spilling almost of the dirty laundry between the couple. Jack had heard enough.

He FaceTimed Svea first, but she just left it go to voicemail, since she was already on a call with Luke who was laughing along with the girls. They had moved on to less hot tea by now and he nor Nico knew what was mentioned earlier. He tried his brother next, who did pick up after second ring.

"Make them stop” Jack blurted out.

“Well hello to you too brother” They had just gotten done taking with Maisie and Svea, and Jack yelling at him soured the mood.

“Cut the crap, Luke. You and Nico need to get the girls to stop. It’s upsetting Sammy” Jack growled back.

"Like all the times she made the girls cry is any different?"

"Not Svea, she doesn't cry about anything." Nico shrugged. Both Luke and Jack shot him a look, as if to tell him to shut up.

"Whatever, just get them to stop, leave her alone, and apologize and I guess I'll try harder with Sammy"

Nico and Luke trekked across building to Svea's apartment. They quickly greeted the girls before Nico taking the phone from Maisie. The girls drunkenly slurred protesting as Nico ended the live.

Svea protested by trying to bolt with her phone out the door, Nico easily caught her. Maisie just sat there with tears in her eyes, she was at the stage of drunk where she starts crying, Luke wrapped his arms around her to comfort her.

"I think it's time for bed." Luke collected the phones so they couldn't do any more damage and the boys put their girls to bed.

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Six

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Mild anxiety, uncomfortable silences, awkward flirting (there's a theme brewing here) Cursing, & some silly goofy bestie time with our favorite buddy Daniel.

Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

You're Only Human - Billy Joel "'Cause all I needed was a little faith, So I could catch my breath and face the world again, Don't forget your second wind."

My eyes flutter open, Penny’s rough tongue lapping against my face. Wait, what time is it?! I blindly feel around for my phone. Am I on the couch? I rub a knuckle across my eyes, blinking them open and sitting up. I frantically search under throw pillows and cushions until I find my phone… under my coffee table. 5:34 am. Oh fuck, I’m late. Birdie is going to be here by like 6. Fuck fuck FUCK.

I run to my room, Penny hot on my heels, quickly searching for something to wear. I throw on a plain black sweater and a pair of black dress pants. You really can’t get any more professional than black on black. I sit on my bed, sliding on, you guessed it, a pair of black socks. And then rush over to the bathroom, nearly falling over Penny on the way there.

I splash some cold water on my face in hopes that it wakes me up a little bit. I pat my face dry with the face towel that always sits on my sink and reach for my hairbrush. As the only Kiszka who brushes their hair regularly, I have an image to uphold. I gently comb out the knots, careful not to take my head off while still attempting to rush. I finish brushing my teeth and gargle some mouthwash and then double check my smile in the mirror. Perfect.

“Oh, the photos,” I say out loud, slipping past Penny, who patiently waits in the doorway of the bathroom and bolt it to the living room. I gather the photos and look around for my folder. Where is my folder? I had it just here on the coffee table? Oh fuck. I check the time again, and there's a notification from Birdie. 

Birdie 🪿: On my way

Oh shit, oh shit. I haven’t even taken Penny out yet. I drop the prints back on the coffee table and shove my feet into my slippers, and shrug on my coat. 

“Come on, Penny girl,” calling her to me and, hooking on her leash. We head outside, and of course, she takes her sweet time because why on earth would she feel the need to rush for me? I love her dearly, but she’s the biggest and best pain in the ass that I deal with every day, only narrowly beating out Birdie these days. After she, thankfully, does her business, we head back inside. I pick up the photos again, searching for my damn folder, where the fuck did I put it? Penny’s hyped from the cold air outside and bursting with the zoomies.

“Stop, Penny, please.” Running my fingers through the fur between her ears, hoping to calm her a bit. I spot the folder out of the corner of my eye.

“Ah-ha!” I run over to it, and Penny bounds off after; I turn quickly, and “Oh fuck” I trip and fall over her as she tangles herself between my legs. I’m as bad as Birdie is, damn. I reach for the folder on the table from my seated position on the floor and search for the photos now strewn about the room. I tuck them into the folder and promptly shove it into my bag, sufficiently annoyed by my morning. 

Birdie 🪿: Here.

Is she mad.. nevermind.

“Alright, Sammy. You’ve got nothing to worry about. The presentation is going to go fine. Birdie will be fine. You look good. Everything is going to go according to plan… starting now.” I give myself a little verbal pep talk in front of my floor-length mirror. Fiddling with the final touches of my outfit until I feel confident. With this morning being a tragic mess, I have to leave it at the door so I don’t psych myself out for the presentation. I slip on my scarf and jacket, trying to stay bundled from the cold. I grab my keys from the key hook by the door and head to meet Birdie at her car. 

She’s staring down at her phone, biting at her thumbnail when I spot her, bright yellow sweater and all.  

Oh, she’s nervous too. 

I grab the chilly handle of the car door and open it slowly. Her head snaps up and she bites out, “The least you could do if you’re not going to respond to my text is turn your ‘read receipts’ on so I know you’re not asleep or something.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Birdie. Have you not had sufficient caffeine intake this morning?” I set my bag on the floor and scoot into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind me. 

“If I say no, does that mean you’re buying again?” She puts the car in drive and pulls away from the road. When I buckle my seat, I notice her hair is up, well, as much up as your hair can be when it’s short. You can see much more of her face like this. I refocus my attention to the road ahead. 

“Nah, I bought last time. It’s your turn, and I’m craving a caramel latte wicked bad.” I say, throwing her a cheeky smile. 

“Fine, I’ll stop and get coffee.” she shakes her head.

“I know,” I pouted my bottom lip out, “I just had to twist your arm, huh?”

As we make our way through the drive through, I open my bag and reach for my wallet. I pull out a five and hand it to her.

“For the tip,” I say plainly, placing the bill into her hand. She grabs it apprehensively before placing it into the tip bucket. She looks back at me, wearing an expression I can’t quite read. Her eyes catch sight of my open bag. 

“Oh, Sam! Did you buy me flowers as an apology for having to deal with you the past week? That’s soooo sweet of you.” her fake enthusiasm falls short, and she looks at me completely deadpan. 

“I uuuhh,” I clear my throat, unsure of why I feel so awkward all of a sudden. “I actually bought the daisies for.. Daisy. You know, the receptionist.” I swallow thickly. Seriously what's wrong with me. 

“It sounds stupid when you say it out loud, huh?” Her attention is called back to the barista, handing her our drinks through the window. I’ll never get over how sickly sweet her customer service voice is compared to the way she speaks to me. I grab my drink and place it into the cup holder, twisting the top off my straw wrapper and placing the straw through the lid. The squeaking of the plastic on plastic sends a chill down my spine. I put the wrapper in my jacket pocket to be polite but Birdie flings hers to her back seat, where all straw wrappers go to die in her vehicle.

“Girls like flowers?” I defend. “At least normal girls do.” I throw her a side eye she doesn’t catch because she’s keeping an eye out for an opening in the road. 

“You know, if someone bought me,” she takes a long pause, flicking her head side to side to double-check she’s clear to drive before successfully pulling out into traffic. “willows every time they tried to get me flowers, I’d never actually want anyone to get me flowers.” She blindly reaches for her coffee, taking a small sip.

“The thing is, your name is Will-A, not Will-ow. Besides, a willow is a tree; a pussy willow is a flower.” No sooner than the words are out of my mouth is she choking on her drink. She grabs a spare napkin and wipes her mouth, coughing a few times before wiping her mouth once more and throwing the napkin in the back seat to join the graveyard. 

“The point is, Sam. Buying daisies for a girl named Daisy– not the most original idea. I’m sure you’re not the first guy to do it.” she lowers her voice before finishing, “Or the last.”

“Flowers are more effort than your date put in.” I know it's a low blow but damn, cut a guy a little slack here. She purses her lips at my comment and I know I may have taken it too far. 

“This is gunna be a long fucking drive. Why don’t we just run through the presentation? That reminds me, you never sent me an email with the digitals you edited. Can you do that before we get there?”

“Yeah, I actually sent it over to you this morning before you got to my apartment. It should be in your email.” I bend down to rifle through my bag, mostly talking to the floor of her car, and try to find my folder of prints. 

“My bag is in the back seat. It’s in the blue folder not the purple folder,” she instructs.

I set my folder on the center console and twist my body, attempting to reach for her bag, but my arm isn’t long enough. I unbuckle my seat belt and mumble out a plea to not kill me while I’m unprotected and kneel backward in the passenger seat. I grab her bag from the back seat and plop it in my lap before I realize it's the same camera bag as the one I use, just in tan instead of gray. Maybe she can hold her own rocks now. I pull out her blue, not purple, folder and set it with mine before putting her bag back in its place. I open her folder and pull out her printed photos, waiting for her instructions.

“Okay, just to double check, I should have the dock, the bird in that bush, and the lobster boat. Then the full view of the rocks and water from Wolf’s Neck.” She recounts her photos on her fingers, tapping each one against her steering wheel. 

“All here. You know what points you want to hit?” I ask. 

“Yeah, I ran through it with my roommate last night,” waving my question away with the flick of her wrist. At least one of us is prepared; I got drunk with Daniel and passed out on my couch. 

“Alright, my turn.” I try to sound more excited than I am. If I’m being honest, public speaking makes me uneasy. Even though I know while I'm sitting there watching other people present, I couldn't give two figs on a rolling donut what they're saying, I always assume people are judging me. The nervousness is always present in the shakiness of my voice, and I hate it, no matter how confident I am about what I’m talking about. 

I flip open my folder and pull out my photos. I scan through them one by one until I count only three. Oh no, she’s gonna fucking kill me. Not only does she have to cart my ass around through this entire thing, but she can’t rely on me for the one thing I have to fucking do. God dammit. I close my folder and clasp my hands together on top of it, staring straight at the road. I can feel her glance at me. Eyes trained on me for as long as she feels like she can spare before checking the road again.

“What?” 

I internally scream. I want to say nothing. I want to pretend this isn’t happening. I want to jump out of the car a little bit. 

But instead, I pivot.

“You look nice today. Yellow, like a ray of sunshine.” I smile sweetly at her.

“Compliments are not going to help you.”  

“We even match. Look,” I point to my yellow and navy plaid scarf. “Isn’t that cute?” I laugh uncomfortably.

She glares at me.

“Don’t be mad.” I wince.

“No. Absolutely not, Sam.” she waves her pointer finger over at me.

“Don’t be mad,” I repeat. Please, please, please don't be mad

“If you don’t tell me what's wrong RIGHT NOW,” She emphasizes her words by slapping her steering wheel. “I will pull this car over and make you walk the rest of the way.” 

I take a deep breath, knowing that I’m about to endure the wrath of a thousand fire-breathing dragons.

“Promise me you won’t be mad, and I’ll tell you.” I am a fucking pussy. She is just a girl, so why do I feel so uneasy? 

“Samuel,” she warns.

“The rock path photo is gone…” I trail off. I know instantly she sees red even though she’s not making eye contact with me. Hoping if I explain she might grant me some leniency, I continue speaking. 

“I overslept this morning and was running around trying to get ready, but running gets Pen excited, and she was trying to play. Anyway, she came at me full speed and knocked me on my ass and.. I just thought I grabbed all the pictures.” I rush out. I should have stayed quiet.

“SAMUEL THOMAS KISZKA!” she yells at what I can only assume is the top of her lungs. I hate to think she can yell louder than that. 

“That’s.. actually my brother's middle name,” I respond, doing myself absolutely no favors. 

“I don’t care whose middle name it is. This is my car which means I say it's your middle name right now because I’m pissed off. You can remember to pack your precious daisies, but you can’t be prepared for the presentation. If we don’t do this, we don’t go to California, and if we don’t go to California, we can kiss the chances of us getting hired GOODBYE.”

I visibly cringe at her words, cutting me like.. tiny daggers. How ironic.

“It was an accident, Birdie. I would think someone as accident-prone as you would be understanding of this type of situation.” I’m deflecting hard. But I can’t stand the thought of disappointing another person in my life. I don’t work much at the bar like I feel like I should be doing to help out, because I’m trying to pursue my own career. My car is unreliable making me unreliable, and I'm constantly asking everyone to help me out. ‘Hey, can I get a ride?’ ‘Hey, can you watch my dog?’, ‘Hey, can I vent to you about my menial problems?’. And now, I’ve disappointed a girl I’ve hardly known for a week, and I feel like the ground could swallow me up in the middle of 95 South. 

“Don’t you Birdie me right now. I should pull over and make you walk.” she snaps effectively pulling me out of my own thoughts.

“I’m sor–”

“Don’t.” Oh if she never snaps this word at me again, it'll be too soon. 

“Ya know, you act like I did this on purpose. If you go down, I’m going down too. We’re in this together, Willa.” I try to reason with her, to no avail. 

“I don't wanna hear anything else out of you until we get there.” She scrunches her nose up at my response and turns the dial to the volume up to further reinforce her request for me to shut the hell up. I honestly don’t blame her. The rest of the ride to the office is filled with her occasional heavy sigh and the 90’s throwbacks being played on the radio station. 

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After a sufficiently awkward rest of the car ride, we arrive at the office. If it weren’t for the fact that we took her car, I’m sure she’d have left me in the dust and hurried on ahead of me, but she waits for me to slowly and painfully get out of her car. Impatient, tapping her booted foot against the pavement and absentmindedly checking for stray hairs. As soon as I round the corner, she turns in the direction of the front door and speeds off. Thankfully, my long legs work in my favor and I catch up to her. The elevator ride up is just as silent as the car ride, though when we round the corner to the receptionist’s desk, I’m positive I make out a groan from her direction.

Without so much as a wave to Daisy, Birdie speeds off in the direction of the office room we congregate in. Daisy’s eyes watch her intently as she passes, and then they jet back to me. A smile paints her bright pink colored lips. She is rather adorable. 

“Morning, Sam.” She greets me warmly. 

“Morning Daisy. What a lovely color on you. It compliments your eyes.” I hear Birdie scoff from down the hall. 

“Oh, thank you.” She runs her dainty fingers over the large buttons of her powder blue cardigan. 

“I got you something,” I smirk at her. 

“Really?” She beams, and I pull the flowers out of my bag and present them to her. The baby blue paper delicately wrapped around them slightly crumpled from living in my bag for the last 2 hours.

“Your desk looked far too bare last time I was here. I thought it would give you something pretty to look at.” 

“Thank you, Sam. They’re beautiful,” a light blush reaching her cheeks. 

“I know daisies for Daisy wasn’t my best idea, but I didn’t actually know what flowers you liked. Just wanted you to know I was thinking of you.”

“You’re sweet.” her blush deepens, and I can already feel my failure of a morning starting to repair itself. “Ever heard of Bachelor Buttons? They’re just a type of cornflower, but back in the Victorian Era, they were used as a symbol of love and availability when men would court women.” By this point, this girl is about as red as a tomato, which I find endearing. 

“Anyway, my Nana told me about them when I was young, and it’s just always stuck with me. They’re a really pretty shade between blue and purple.”

“Surprisingly, pretty girl, I have heard of them. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” I shoot her a wink. “I’ll see you later.” Wiggling my fingers in a small farewell, I head off toward the room I’m supposed to be in. 

When I round the corner, I can see Birdie furiously looking through her folders, opening them, flicking through some pages, shutting them, and setting them aside. How many folders does this girl carry with her? I set my bag down next to her on the table.

“Lovely of you to join me, Samuel.”  she doesn’t bother looking up at me. Oh, she’s pissed. I don’t entertain her comment with a response, just take out my own folder, sans one photo, and take a seat. I try not to psych myself out, thinking about having to get up in front of a room full of people I don’t know and speak. I hope my voice doesn’t shake. 

“Ah-HA!” she pulls out a photo, holding it out in front of her, eyes wide. “Here it is.” Her smile is smugly written on her face. I grab the photo from her grasp, admiring my work. The photo she was looking for was the one I took of her standing on the rocks like the Titanic. I know she liked it, but..

“You printed this? When?” I question her. 

“The other day, with the others.” She says plainly. “Just because I don’t like you right now doesn’t mean I can’t like this picture. I told you that.” 

I smile, recalling her response to seeing the negatives for the first time. She had such softness in her eyes when she looked at them gently held between her fingers. I almost wonder if people don’t see her. If the people she’s surrounded herself with have never seen her in that light. Just getting to enjoy a simple day doing what she loves most. Which she does, love photography above everything I mean. And it’s so clear to me. I’m not sure if it's because I also love photography but I can see it clear as day written across her face every time she gets a camera to her eye.

 Her delicate voice interrupts my thoughts.

“You said you took it because it reminded you what Maine is about… right?”

“Yeah, uhh yeah.” I rush out nervously. I did take it because of the project, but she also looked beautiful out there in that moment. It felt like a shame not to capture it. 

“Then we’ll use this one to replace the rock path one.” She smiles triumphantly, knowing she fixed the problem. Her resolution does nothing to subdue my anxiety about the presentation, though, given that now I have to talk about her in front of a bunch of strangers. 

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Jim enters the room, setting his bag down on his desk and sighing deeply. You can tell he’s just absolutely done with this job. Whether that’s working for the paper period or having to deal with all of us, I’m not sure yet.

“Good morning. Today, we’ll be doing presentations in alphabetical order to make things easier for me. You should all be prepared anyway, so it doesn’t matter what order you go in.” He takes a long sip from his coffee. 

“We’ll make the announcement of the winners before you all leave today and figure out the logistics then. Once everyone arrives, we’ll begin with Connecticut.” He sits back down.

Seeing Connecticut present only made me more nervous. Not because I’m worried ours isn’t good but because I’d rather be doing anything else on the planet right now other than presenting. I’d clean the back room of the bar on my hands and knees with a toothbrush before I’d ever willingly get up and speak in front of people. 

“Willa and,” Jim looks down to check his notes. “Sam? You’re up next.”

My heart leaps into my throat when he calls my name, and I feel like my stomach could fall out of my ass. I’m a fairly confident guy, honestly a bit over confident in situations I could be humbled in. I am self-aware.. sometimes. This is just not one of those areas I need humbling in. I stand up, gathering my things, and I look over at Birdie wide-eyed. Her brows knit together, and she tilts her head to the side in question. I purse my lips together, hoping that tells her enough. I’m not sure it does until she wraps her hand around my arm, giving me a squeeze of reassurance, but she plays it off as pointing me in the right direction to the front. 

She hands me her folder, blue, not purple, and goes to set up her computer to the HDMI cord for the digital part. I display the printed photos against the whiteboard, Birdie’s first and then mine, and then I scoot to the opposite side. I really hope she takes the lead here. 

After small introductions, Birdie, thankfully, starts speaking. “Trying to define Maine can be difficult when you’ve spent your whole life there. Despite it being one of the larger states in New England, I don’t think you could meet a single person from there that doesn’t consider themselves from a ‘small town.’’ She walks over to the board standing opposite me.

“But two things were made abundantly clear to Sam and I on our adventure to get brain food that day.” She looks over at me expectantly. I clear my throat.

“Uhm, the fi-first is that Maine is the pine tree state.” I swallow thickly, trying to clear my mouth of the excess saliva my nerves generated. “Me-meaning the woods are, uhm, a big deal here.” I release an anxious breath, and she relieves me of the stress of talking.

“The second is that a big part of Maine culture is that it’s coastal. They don’t put a lobster on the license plates for nothing, even if it is technically a dead one.” She laughs. So effortlessly, so clearly in her element, talking to these people while I can feel the sweat start to gather on my lower back and threaten to drip down my ass crack.

“Sam made another good point about the culture here, and not just here but New England as well.” Again, she makes eye contact with me, sending me a small smile. 

“New England is Old.” I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Uhh, what I m-mean is that most of the buildings here are old, made of brick. Beautiful, but uhm… Old. We decided on, uh, using film and digital to capture and represent that.. uhm.. idea.” I finished a bit unsure of where I was going with that. 

We take our time explaining each photo, 16 in total, giving them a few extras to choose from for the feature if they decide to actually pick us. I can’t help but admire the way Birdie speaks about each place, her eyes lighting up especially when she talks about the water from Wolfe’s Neck and all the rocks she found there. A stark contrast to the way I stumble and uhh and uhm my way through mine. The shakiness of my hands doesn’t let up, but the more I talk, the easier it is until I get to the last photo. 

The photo of her. 

“Truth be told,” I start to explain honestly. “We had chosen a completely different picture to round out our, uh selection.” I scratch at my beard nervously. “But my dog knocked me on my ass, and it’s somewhere in my living room.” I laugh.

“Bir– uhh, Willa pulled this one out of her wonderful bag of tricks. It was a chilly day, well.. for her not for me.” I look over at her and scrunches her nose a little. “We’d wandered around those large rocks trying to find the inspirations around us, and she just took a moment for herself. Something I frequently love to do by the seaside here, as most people do. But the simplicity of her stealing that little moment away for her reminded me why so many people come here on vacation. Annnd, why Vacationland is also written on our license plates. It was a moment I had to capture because it truly represents Maine.” I suddenly realize how long I’ve been rambling for and clear my throat again, darting my eyes around the room. At least people don’t seem bored? I look over at Birdie for confirmation that I did well, but she’s looking for the same from Jim. Her cheeks are tinted pink. 

“Excellent, guys,” Jim says, more enthusiastically than normal. “Great job.”

The mumbled sound of his voice as he calls for the next team to go up and present sounds like radio static in my ears. Birdie comes up behind me, beaming and grabs onto my arm. Her smile is so wide, it’s like she slept with a coat hanger in her mouth. I laugh at the thought. We make our way back to our seats and I whisper to her, “So I take it you’re not mad at me anymore?” I throw her a small smirk. 

“The jury is still out.” She sends me a small cocky side-eye. 

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We break for lunch after Massachusetts presents. Birdie decides to head to the bathroom, so I pay Daisy a visit. 

“Hey, stranger. How was your presentation?” She asks sweetly when I reach her desk. I lean my forearms against the counter in front of her and give her my best eyes. 

“It went well, I think. Not to sound cocky or anything, but I think we have a pretty good shot at winning.” 

“I wouldn’t bet against you. You and Willa seem like a good team.” She raises an eyebrow. It feels almost as if she’s digging for some dirt on Birdie and I. 

“We.. do okay,” I say a bit apprehensively. “She’s brilliant. Though I’d never tell her that, of course. We butt heads sometimes, but I really do think we nailed it.” I say, trying to give Birdie her kudos and not give Daisy the impression I’m interested in her. Because I’m not.

I spot her coming down the hallway out of the corner of my eye, and I stand up straight. 

“Birdie!” I say with more enthusiasm than is normal. She rounds the corner, coming into our full view. 

“Birdie?” Daisy questions, and before I can answer she speaks. 

“You can either stay here and starve, or you can come with me to get lunch. It’s up to you.” She adjusts the purse on her shoulder and crosses her arms, clearly unamused. 

I freeze. 

The look on Daisy’s face says she's also unamused. 

My eyes dart back and forth between the two of them as they both stare at me. I clear my throat and awkwardly shift on my feet. 

“Uhh,” I run a hand through my hair. “She’s my ride, Dais. I’ll catch up with you before I leave, okay?” 

She gives me a small nod, and I follow Birdie out of the building. 

As we make our way down the sidewalk to where her car is parked, she grills me. 

“Can you not find another time to flirt other than on the clock?” She rolls her eyes at me. 

“I mean, technically, we’re on lunch.” I try to convey my own annoyance. “She loved the flowers, by the way.” Really driving the point home. 

“Go figure.”

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The Wendy’s parking lot is where we end up for lunch. Something quick but still not eating in the breakroom. To be honest, the break room is kind of depressing. There’s hardly any windows and everything in there is white. It's practically one step away from being a padded room. 

I take a large bite out of my burger and ask around my food, “So how do you think we’re holding up?” 

“Do you always talk with a mouthful of food, or do you do that just for my benefit?” her lip curls in disgust. 

“Just your benefit,” I mumble out and smile wide.

“Uhm, I think we have a decent shot. Mass did really well, but I’m curious to see how the rest of the projects pan out. If more people bomb like Connecticut did, we're a shoo-in.” She laughs and takes a sip of her drink, and wipes the condensation off on her knee, tightly tucked up to her chest. “I had no idea you were so scared to talk in front of people, though. You were up there shakin’ like a damn leaf.”

I swallow my bite. “Yeah, if you weren’t so angry at me this morning, I might have remembered to tell you that.” 

She scrunches her face, and I try to decipher what’s going on in her head. I venture an educated guess, figuring I have nothing to lose. 

“Hey, I’m a big boy.” I laugh and place my hand on her knee. “I know this is important to you.” I shove a french fry into my mouth. “Besides, I’d gladly take your anger any day because it means we’re talking.” 

I look over at her and smile. 

She looks at me with eyes so wide they look like they’ll bulge out of her head. Did I say something wrong?

I snatch my hand back and run it through my hair. “Ya know, because we have to talk to .. ya know, work together.” 

She laughs louder and weirder than normal. Not that her laugh is weird normally. She’s just being weird now. “Oh yeah, yeah. Right.” 

There’s a moment of awkward silence. Why is this awkward? I’m so confused. Did I say something? Or do something? I thought I was being nice.

“Well,” she says, still loud and weird. “We should head back, shouldn't we?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

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Birdie and I share a nervous glance after New Hampshire’s presentation. But our nerves ease after Rhode Island does terribly. She poorly attempted to hide her laugh behind her hand, and yes, everyone looked at her. She turned beet red. At least I’m not the only one being slightly embarrassed today. During the last presentation of the day, I know we have it in the bag. I don’t think she’s as confident as I am of the state of her fingernails are any testament. She furiously chews at her thumb again as Jim re-enters the room after deliberations with the other department heads. 

“Alright, it’s close to quittin’ time.”

“Jim,” The woman next to him warns.

“It’s getting close to the end of the day.” He gives her a large sarcastic smile. “So the winners of the contest are, in no particular order…”

I grab Birdie’s hand, effectively snatching away her nervous snack, and weave my fingers between hers. I give her a small, excited smile, but panic becomes her. I squeeze her hand gently. I know the anticipation is killing her. 

“Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and… Maine. Thank you all for coming and participating. Those of you who were not chosen will report back to your home bases tomorrow. Will the winners please join me at my desk?”

We jump up, and she throws her arms around my neck. I wrap my arms around her waist and pick her up, her knees gently bumping against my thighs as I do. She tucks her face into my neck, and I take a deep breath in relief. Finally, something goes my way. Going to California means I have a real shot at booking a job in a field I love. Suddenly my senses are overtaken by the smell of.. Is that coconut? Does she use coconut shampoo? Oh no..

“Thank god,” she whispers. “I was worried.”

“I knew we could do it,” I whisper back. 

She lifts her head, our eyes connecting. Hers soften for a moment before they drop down to my mouth. A stupid smile resting upon my lips. She meets my eyes again but this time they’re wide and nearly bulging out of her head again like earlier. My brows knit in confusion, and I rush to set her down. She lands on her foot wrong and nearly falls over; my hands move of their own accord reaching out to steady her. She fixes her shirt and tucks a few loose strands behind her ear. 

“Uh, thanks. We should..” she points a thumb over her shoulder.

I follow her lead over to where the rest of the winners are hovered around Jim’s desk. 

“Congrats, guys. You’ll all be heading to San Francisco tomorrow. For your convenience, we’ll have you fly out of your local airports, so I need you to write your emails down here.” He points to his clipboard. “We’ll send you an email within an hour requesting certain info so we can book the flights. Then, a second email will follow with your airline booking information so you know when to show up to the airport. A car will pick you all up from the airport at the appropriate times, and they’ll coordinate with you from there. You’ll be gone till Sunday, so pack accordingly. And I think that’s it.” He scratches his head. “Yeah, yep, that’s it, you guys are free to go. Oh! The feature is going to run in next week’s issue, so keep an eye out. Thanks again, guys.”

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The drive home was much easier than the drive this morning. Birdie excitedly yammering about how she’s ‘never been to the West Coast’ and ‘Will it be as cold in northern California as it is here’ and ‘I could use a vacation. I know we’ll be working, but it still kinda feels like a vacation, right?’ I agreed with a laugh. I wait for the excitement to die down and her to realize she’s stuck with me for another week, but it doesn’t come. At least she’s happy. This trip might not be so bad. She makes me fill out the information for both of us while she drives, ‘not wanting to waste a second of preparation.’ When we pull up to my apartment I thank her again for the ride and send her off with a promise to text her to coordinate once the flight information is sent out. 

I could use a fucking nap, but unfortunately, I have to pack. I unlock my front door and step inside, greeted by my favorite girl. Oh fuck, I need to figure out what to do with her. I hang my coat and scarf up on the coat rack by the door and turn to see the chewed-up remnants of my missing photo. Thanks Pen. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket, selecting Daniel’s contact, and I wait for it to connect. His photo shines across my screen as it starts to ring, and I hold it up to my ear, waiting for him to pick up. Feeling like I’m short on time, I head to my room to start packing.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, I need to ask you for a favor..” I ask tentatively, searching for my duffle bag in my closet. 

“Does it involve my Penny girl?” he says, hopeful. 

“Yeah. Birdie and I won the feature, and they’re sending us to San Fran tomorrow. Can you come grab her tonight?” Aghhh, there it is. I pull it out and toss it to my bed. Penny settles down next to my bag. I could almost swear she’s pouting.

“Congrats, man. Yeah, I can swing by in a bit. I’m at the gym right now.” 

I breathe a sigh of relief and pump my fist. “That’s fine. Thank you, this is really helpful. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I hang up the phone and plug my phone in on my nightstand, making a mental note to remember to pack my charger tomorrow morning. I pull out nearly all my drawers looking for nice but casual clothes to wear in California, knowing full well it will still be cold over there. I checked on the way home, and they only seem to be the slightest bit warmer than Maine this time of year. The initial email outlined what we should bring to prepare, casual clothes, and an outfit for a black tie event. It did mention there was a pool in the hotel, we’ll be staying at so I packed a bathing suit just in case we have some free time. 

Just as I’m searching for some of my toiletries, I hear Daniel’s signature knock again, and Penny is bounding off toward the door. I catch up to her excitedly panting and open the door. She jumps on Daniel, her gentle ‘boofs’ greeting him warmly, and he loves her back just the same. Once she’s settled, we head back to my room where I finish packing. 

“So the presentation went well? You didn’t choke?” He asks, Penny’s head resting in his lap as he sits on my bed. 

“No, Daniel.” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t choke. I was a nervous wreck, and I forgot a photo, but Birdie saved my ass. Two other groups royally bombed, so the competition wasn’t too fierce.” I say, placing my dress shoes in my bag. 

“Ready for another week of Birdie?” 

“I don’t know if it's the excitement from winning or if she suddenly decided not to hate me, but we’ve been okay today. Well, towards the end.” I laugh

“What does that mean?” 

“She bit my head off on the ride down there when I told her I forgot a photo. This is important to her. I didn't take it personally. But she did cop an attitude when I stopped to talk to Daisy around lunch. But after that, she was sweet as pie, actually.” I recall, folding another pair of pants. 

“How’d it go with her? Daisy, I mean.” he corrects himself. 

“It went okay. She loved the flowers, and I managed to get her number before I left, undetected. I didn’t want to risk pissing Birdie off when she was in such a good mood.” I shove the final things into my bag and zip it up. I think I’m done, thank God.

“Probably a good call there,” He nods his head as he pets Penny. “You ever think about why she gets so pissed at you in the first place?”

I set my bag by my door and sit on the floor opposite Daniel. “Dude, I don’t fucking know. Everything I do pisses her off. She basically hates me.” Having worked up a sweat rushing to get everything packed, I take the hair tie sitting on my wrist and throw my hair into a bun. Daniel glares at me. 

“Funny how she supposedly ‘hates’ you, but y’all fight like an old married couple.” He cocks an eyebrow at me. 

Gasping in shock, I say, “But Daniel, how can that be when I’m married to you? You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel waves, brushing me off. “If you don’t pull your head out of your ass, I’ll be serving you papers.”

Whatever the hell that means. 

After Daniel leaves, the only thing left to take care of is to secure a ride to the airport for the morning. I will no doubt be met with a resounding ‘Yes, Sammy! I absolutely will take you to the airport tomorrow’ from exactly all of my brothers. I pull out my phone and open up the group chat affectionately titled “The boys club: Sammy gets employed (potentially)📷” and pull the trigger. 

Sam: Alright boys which one of you can take me to the airport tomorrow?

Josh: How early?

Sam: I fly out at 6 so like.. 5 😑

Josh: no

Daniel: I literally just left your house with your dog, absolutely not.

Jake: I will if you promise to get your truck looked at when you get home

Sam: Done.

And Jake saves the day, and for that, he has earned his place as Tweedle Dee… for now.

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Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed and can't wait for chapter 7 🤭

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

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Tagliiiiist:

@gvfsstardust , @myleftsock , @mindastreamofcolours , @dont-go-home-without-me , @threadofstars , @literal-dead-leaf , @lizzys-sunflower , @mackalah , @klarxtr ,@edgingthedarkness , @writingcold , @takenbythemadness , @i-love-gvf , @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy , @peaceloveunitygvf ,@violet-hayes , @musicspeaks , @anythingforjtk

[miistymemorii]

To Settle a Bet

samuel kiszka x fem!reader

rating: E for everyone

warnings: alcohol consumption, FLUFF

“So, apparently there’s an ongoing bet to see if we’re going to hook up.”

Those were the last words you were expecting your best friend. You were both at a small get-together at Jake and Josh’s place, the twins and Danny fairly drunk but requesting that you make them more drinks. They didn’t ask Sam, as he had an affinity for making shitty drinks, but he had followed you like the loyal lapdog he usually was. You had just finished up the drinks, ready to have Sam help you carry them out, when he dropped that bomb on you.

You spun around, settling down the tumbler in your hands. “Excuse me?”

He nodded, sipping his own drink before smacking his lips with an obnoxious “ahh”. “Yep. Ronnie made a joke about it, which didn’t mean anything to me, then I overheard my mom talking to Lori, and I figured I’d do some snooping. Had to get Danny... unbelievably high to get it out of him. Went to my scheming brothers and Josh cracked. Crazy, truly.”

You shook your head as if to shake the notion away from your now-racing mind. “That’s preposterous.” you muttered, beginning to gather the glasses. Your actions were stopped when Sam gently grabbed your wrist, moving it downward to tell you to set the glasses down. You obliged. 

“Now, now, I see this as an opportunity.” he said, a classic Samuel Franics Kiszka mischievous smirk forming.

You decided to indulge him, but only a little. “What are you on about?”

His finger tentatively traced over the rim of his own glass; his eyes fixated on the contents of the drink. “I say... we screw with them.”

You rolled your eyes. “And how exactly do we do that? Sleeping together? Not sleeping together?”

He let out a small tsk, as if disappointed. “No, no, ew, nothing like that. The bet says that we hook up, right? So, I say we go out there, say we’ve secretly been dating, but not hooking up. That way none of them win the stupid bet.”

You shake your head, taking a sip of your drink and dropping your voice to a whisper. “They won’t buy that for a second. We fuck - other people, that is - the most out of everyone in the group. Plus, they know we’re just friends.”

He gave you a strange look. His goofy grin seemed to drop a little, his eyes softening, his eyebrows drooping. His head tilted towards you slightly and you saw him swallow, pushing down words unspoken. “Yeah, the best of friends.”

He grabbed his drink and gave you a quick smile, moving to reenter the living room. “Wait, Sammy...” you called to him, causing Sam to spin around on his heels. “Okay... if we do this, you’ve to let me take the lead on the lie. It has to be believable.”

Sam rolled his eyes and let out a loud, obnoxious groan. “What, you think I can’t tell a good lie?”

You scooped up the drinks, sans your own. You grinned at him as you walked past him, into the living room where Jake, Josh, and Danny were laughing loudly at something on Danny’s phone. They all cheered when you appeared and you set their respective drinks in front of them, taking a seat next to Josh, who wrapped his arm around you.

Let the games begin.

You pretended to yawn and gently pulled away, giggling at the pout that blossomed on his face. “Sorry Josh, gotta cut back on the physical affection. Got a hot new man in my life, wouldn’t wanna upset him.”

Danny pointed a drunken finger at you. “Oo, y/n’s got a boyyyyfriiiiend.”

“Yeah right, like any man could keep up with you.” Jake snorted from behind his glass.

That’s when Sam waltzed into the room, a casual grin on his face. The two of you locked eye contact for just for a split second, then he got the ball rolling. He leaned down and set your drink in front of you. “Here you go babe, left your drink in the kitchen.” He squeezed himself in between you and Josh and put his arm around you. He gave your nose an affectionate poke. "You’re lucky I love you, with how forgetful you are.”

Josh all but spat his drink all over the coffee table. Immediately the three of them began to shout questions, their voices slurry with alcohol. Sam let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

“What the shit is this shit?” Josh slurred angrily. Then, it looked like a lightbulb went off in his head. He pointed at Jake, a goofy grin on his face. “YOU OWE ME FIFTY BUCKS MISTAH!” he screamed.

Jake immediately shot up, shoving Josh on the shoulder weakly. “No way, this is total bullshit.” He wagged a finger between you and Sam, who’s head was now thrown back in laughter. “You two are liars! This is a SHAM!”

You took a sip of your drink then cleared your throat loudly. “It is indeed true, not a trick. I mean-” You gave Sam a quick peck on the cheek, which he quickly did back to you. You grinned a little, glad he was playing along so smoothly. You reached up and gave his cheek a hard pinch, nuzzling your nose to his chin. “Just love the guy.”

Danny took a swig of his beer, shaking his head. He hiccupped then said, “I owe our sisters fifty bucks. Each.”

“Aww, look at you and Josh, thinking the best of us.” Sam taunted. “What gave us away? The constant loving bickering? The stolen glances? The way she takes my breath away?”

He slapped his hand on your thigh, keeping his hand gently cupping it. You froze. This wasn’t a part of the plan. You figured Sammy would pick up cues of light touches, playful banter, a few fake “I love You’s here and there. But the presence of his hand on your thigh - not your leg, not your knee, your thigh - was too much to ignore. You felt yourself getting warm, and it wasn’t just the alcohol. 

Sam did an impressive job lying to his brothers and best friend. The four went back and forth for about an hour and you drank as you watched on, trying your best to keep up with all the fake details Sam was feeding them. At some point, you looked at the clock. It was already almost 2 A.M. You stood up and held your hands up. “Okay, okay, guys, settle down. It’s super late. It’s adios for me. You set your drink down, reaching for your keys. Shit. If you and Sam, why would you go home? You played it off by reaching over and grabbing your phone. You leaned over Sam, who maneuvered his arm to hug the back of your thighs. There is went again, that embarrassing, schoolgirl pang of heat. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

Sam stood up, his arm shooting up your body to wrap around your lower back. “I think I’ll go with you, sweetness. Boys, feel free to continue drinking, but remember: you break it, you buy it. The guest room and den are at your disposal. Darling?”

You said your goodbyes to each boy then followed Sam back to his bedroom. He opened the door and made a grand gesture inside. You stepped past him.

“You... haven’t cleaned this room since the last time I saw you.” 

He tsked, playfully shoving past you. “You don’t care about all that. I promise I’ll clean it in the morning, darling.”

You giggled and sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh? Is this before you surprise me with breakfast in bed, baby?”

Sam let out a snort and drunkenly threw a pile of clothing at you. “Here, go change. You smell like a fucking bar.”

You stood and took the clothes to his bathroom, giggling to yourself. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dug yourself too deep. There was always a part of you, sometimes small, other times loud and obnoxious, that crushed on him. You had repressed it because of your friendship, but there had been times you had doubted him.  Like he had said, little touches here in there, a few times you had caught him staring... things you had hung up on, kept stored away in the back of your head. When you reappeared from the bathroom, Sam was propped up against the headboard, having hanged into his pajamas. Or rather, pajama pants. He was shirtless.

You stumbled your way over to the bed, plopping on it and rolling over. You were feeling the full effects of the booze, your head woozy. You looked up at Sam, a wobbly finger reaching up and booping his chin. “Hey you.”

He smiled softly down at you, taking your finger and catching it gently between his teeth. It was only for a second, but you could feel the slight prod of his tongue against your skin. It sent a shiver a shiver down your spine. He pat your forehead gently. “Bedtime for you. And me. But definitely you.”

You maneuvered yourself under the covers, nuzzling your cheek into the pillow. Sam reached over and turned the bedside table lamp off. He settled himself under the covers, turning onto his side to face you in the dark. Through his thin curtains, moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating his face. 

There was a moment of stillness, then you whispered, “I think they crashed.”

Sam hummed in agreement, then reached over and swept a piece of hair out of your face. He didn’t look you in the eyes, instead focused on his own action. He did it casually, which made your heart race. “Hmm, yeah, that does seem to be the case.”

Another pause.

“Goodnight, Sammy.”

Sam leaned forward and pressed the lightest of kisses to your forehead and you felt yourself die a little inside from happiness.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

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It was the brightness of light pouring in through Sam’s damn thin curtains that woke you up. You rolled over, onto your stomach, burying your face into the pillow. Your hand stretched out to Sam - but he wasn’t there. However, something else was in his usual place. A piece of paper. 

You peeked up from the pillow and scanned it’s contents. 

Good morning sunshine ! I have cleaned my room, so no more nagging from you little lady. It was before I left you breakfast in bed. Or rather, breakfast-at-side table. Please enjoy. I ran the guys home - i will be back shortly.

Until then,

Sam.

[koiiiji]

Omg I can tell Jake is ur fav or one of them! He’s so popular! So what’s ur fav characters?? (Omg u thought wb was a harem??😂 imagine 😳 but is Jay the main character still and everyone just wants to fuck him??)

uuuh i love Jake but i don’t understand yet, do i like him as bro figure or it’s more hubby?… like i understand that he is good boy and stuff but… like come on, my fave character from wb is Sangho, who seems emotionally unavailable but still hot…

ANYWAY! yes, i love Jake but our feelings questionable😤😤

next! is Sammy. i refuse to call him otherwise, Sammy baby is my boy, not hubby materials but boyfriend who will ruin your psychological health if you broke up. bro deserves to be gapryon son🤚🏻🤧

next! is daniel!!! lookism actually one of those main characters who i like, he can be cute, he can be badass, he can be goofy, it seems like he can be anything - baby boy✨🎀

next! goo kim🤭😍🫶🏻 from what i can see now, we would be best bros, i swear, he seems funny and cool, but this bro literally is snake (and i like it!) im only about to learn more about him but so far i like the fact that he have secret friends while Gun have hires(?) like seems that he cares more (he prob doesn’t but i like to be delulu)

next! vasco another baby😭🤧 he had that line recently “to win over bad boys i should became bad boy myself “ RRRRRAH YES MY BABY *bark bark*i cant wait to see his training arc, my boy about to be more bulky. i like how naive he can be sometimes😭✨💗🎀

honorable mention: jay hong, jace, JARRY and that two bros of Jake, kouji and zack lee🥹🫶🏻

and i thought that harem is about shelly… like i thought “okay this blonde bro is her bro who protects her from this two gangsters one of them def had crush on her (wooin and joker) while that black haired guy is her bf” idk i learned later that it’s about cycling but i still like idea about boys harem over one girl (OH REALLY?! NOT REALLY NOTICEABLE WITH ALL MY MALE X FEM X MALE FICS)

[yungkiszka]

| NSFW Alphabet| Sam Kiszka

warnings: smuuttt obviously ;)

a/n: I had covid and didn’t post for a hot minute but I’m back and I hope you enjoy you little freaks. <3

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A= Aftercare (what they are like after sex)

Sam is a big cuddler after sex, he likes to be held or even hold you.

He will kiss your sensitive skin, anywhere he's left marks.

He’ll Whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how much he loves you.

B= Body Part (favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, his hands because they drive you insane. Or his collar bones, you loovvee nibbling on them and he livessss for it!

On you, your ASS! Sammy is such a butt guy. He loves to leave his handprints on your ass, but also likes to just lay on it.

C= Cum (literally anything to do with cum)

He begggss to cum in you almost every time, if not in you then 100% on your ass or in your mouth.

When you're dom, he will beg you to let him cum. You love seeing him beg.

“Please baby, let me fill you up.”

D= Dirty Secret (little dirty secret of theirs)

Not so much a secret but he loves being called daddy, but also likes when you are the dominant one and call him a ‘good boy’.

E= Experience (how experienced are they?)

VERY EXPERIENCED, he is such a ladies man I mean come on now…

F= Favorite Position (their fav position/positions)

When he's feeling submissive, definitely when you are on top.

But otherwise, he loves doggy. He likes to pull your hair and smack your ass HAARRDD.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, ect.)

He's pretty serious in the moment, but he will giggle seeing you beg for him.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they down there)

Just stubble really, he likes to keep it clean down there.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect,ect.)

When it comes to sex, very intimate, he likes to play music in the background, light some candles. He’s a very romantic type of guy.

Always calling you pet names and praising you.

J= Jack Off ( masturbation headcanon)

Sam FaceTimed you because he could not stop thinking about you while he was on tour. You had a matching red lingerie set on, knowing it would drive him crazy.

“God, baby you look so fucking good.” Sam whispered in a raspy tone.

“Sammy, are you touching yourself?” You asked, smirking.

Sam sat there silently, smirking knowing well he was jerking off to you.

“Mm fuck baby.” He moaned, making you smile.

“I can’t wait to fuck you when I get back, treat you like the princess you are.” He said.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Spanking, hickies, literally anything to make a mark on you. He loves making sure people know that you're all his.

Also, he loves when you are dom.

Jerking him off and edging him, making him beg for his sweet release.

L= Location (favorite place to have sex)

Literally anywhere in the house.

His favorite is fucking you ontop of the grand piano you two have in your shared home.

Or on his amp where you can feel the vibrations his bass makes.

M= Motivation ( what turns them on/ gets them going)

Seeing you in his t shirts with nothing but panties underneath

It's like asking for him to destroy you..

Just hearing his name come out of your mouth makes him hard.

N= NO (something they won’t do/ turn offs)

Even though he's a switch, he's not into any of the pegging stuff.

Neither you of you really like anal, but thats about it. He's down to do anything you are okay with.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skil,ect)

It's a big 50/50!!!

HE LOVVEES eating you out, buttt also loves you sucking his dick and making you gag so he can praise you for it.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Ect)

He honestly loves to go slow, but rough at the same time.

Sam loves to thrust hard, but at a slow pace. Your moans are like music to his ears.

Q= Quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often, ect)

Alllwaayyss down for a quickie, weather it's before a show or party you guys are going to.

Fuck, he will maybe even fuck you at the party you two go to.

R= Risk ( are they down to experiment? do they take risks,ect)

Always down to experiment with things you guys haven't already tried unless you both don't like it.

You never thought you'd be a dominant person until you met sam.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go, how long do they last)

Ngl, this man can go for houurrss.

He will go until your legs are like noodles.

T= Toys (do they own sex toys? Do they use them on themself? On their partner?)

You both have a good amount of toys.

vibrators/ vibrating panties ( he loves using them on you in public)

Handcuffs, rope, blind folds, you name it.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sam is such a fucking tease, but so are you.

You both love to make eachother beg

V= Volume (how loud do they get?)

Hes so vocal during sex, and you fucking love it.

But if you two are trying to fuck without anyone hearing, you put your hand over his mouth because someone is bond to hear him.

W= Wild Card ( just a random headcanon;))

“They are gonna hear us sam, they are literally in the room next to us.” You whispered to your bf, your back against the sink in a bathroom of a house your friends were throwing.

“They won’t hear shit love, they are all too drunk or stoned to even notice we are both gone.” He said as we he placed kisses on your neck.

Sam was always ready to risk it all in order to fuck you, it doesn’t matter where you two are clearly.

He picked you up off your feet and sat you down on the counter. His hands slid under your dress, his big hands caressing your thighs. Your head fell back as he rubbed your pussy over your panties, smirking at how wet you already were. He immediately pulled them down and started to finger you.

“F-fuck Sam.” You moaned quietly.

“Don’t be quite baby, let it out.” He spoke softly, looking you straight in the eyes and sucking on his fingers that were just in you. He left no time in between and pulled his pants down and lined himself up with yo entrance.

“Ugh, fuck Sammy.” Your nails dug into his shoulders.

“You look so pretty when I’m fucking you, doll.” His words made you melt even more.

He went harder and harder with each thrust, making sure someone heard you two. He loves making sure people know who you belong to.

“I’m gonna cum baby, shit!” You groaned, reaching your orgasm as you felt sam release into you too.

He kissed you roughly and got dressed again, helping you get yourself together too.

You both walked out of the bathroom and immediately saw Josh outside the door.

“Have fun in there?” He walked past you and winked, a huge smile on his face as he went into the bathroom. Your face immediately turned red, seeing sam laugh and you slapped his arm playfully.

X= X-ray ( let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Definitely long more than thick, but it's got good girth to it lmao

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Horny 24/7. period.

Z= Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep after?)

He's usually the first one to pass out

He will cuddle up in your arms as you play with his hair.

[sorryjustafangirl]

seattle worries

a/n: it was about time i wrote for the toothless love of our lives mr erik johnson. im still mad at him for waiving his nmc even though people saw it coming so i wrote this while at work and because im in a slump. enjoy. gender neutral reader

pairing: erik johnson x reader

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: mentions of pandemic, a few swears, expansion draft

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! this lovely gif is not mine! credit to the wonderful gif-maker

You and Erik had been dating for about 2 years now and things could not have been better. The two of you had been set up by a mutual friend after the Avalanche were eliminated from playoff contention. EJ was a natural charmer and swept you off your feet, despite any nerves he felt that night.

Then a pandemic hit and Erik decided that you should move in. In case we have to repopulate the Earth, you know, he joked, but he was serious about his proposition. Your friends all gave you skepticism when you accepted; after all, you were moving in with a man, a professional athlete at that, after less than a year of dating. But you knew it was the right decision. Even when Erik went to the Edmonton bubble, you never felt lonely because you were in the space you shared with him, the space you knew he’d come back to.

Now, a year later and your relationship had been through injuries, an infectious disease, and hectic NHL life. You honestly thought nothing could break you.

Until now.

You were seething. How couldn’t he have told you? Sure, he could be a dumbass sometimes but he’d have to be a whole ‘nother kind of stupid to think you wouldn’t find out.

The thud of his hockey bag and the clang of his keys hitting the trinket dish on the hall table shook you from your thoughts. He walked into the kitchen, where you stood with your hands gripping the counter, with a smile on his face that quickly disappeared when he saw the scowl on your face.

“Hey baby…” His voice was hesitant, obviously testing the waters.

“How could you not tell me?” Your eyes were set, your jaw hard, and you could feel the tension in your shoulders. He sighed but didn’t say anything. “How could you not tell me you waived your no movement clause Erik? I found out from fucking SportsNet!”

“Look, I was going to tell you-”

“When?! You couldn’t find a good time to talk about how you might throw away your life here in the past two months?!”

“That’s not fair! No one ever said anything about throwing my life here away.” His voice raised but you didn’t back down, not with the way your cheeks were hot with anger.

“Oh, so you just expect me to drop my life here to go live in Seattle? Because your career is more important than mine?”

“I never said that! God, I hate it when you put words in my mouth!”

“Well, I hate it when my boyfriend doesn’t consult me on something that affects us both!”

“Why are you so angry about this? Nothing’s happened yet, they might not even take me!”

You scoffed at him, but it came out breathy because of the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m upset because it feels like you aren’t even considering us in your career. Like you don’t care how this affects me too. Like you don’t even notice you’re throwing us away.” Your voice cracked at the end, tears falling from your eyes. You turned away from Erik in an attempt to hide your emotions but he knew. He knew from the way you hunched your shoulders and the way you shut your eyes, you were crying.

Slowly, he came towards you, his step gentle. His arms around you were like glass until you clung to his shirt; then they became like a warm blanket- all encompassing and familiar. Sobs racked through your body and he traced his hand up and down your back. He placed a kiss on the top of your head lightly before smoothing your hair, trying to soothe you. When you finally calmed down, with only hiccups left, he took your face in his hands, wiping away the tear stains off your cheeks.

“Who said anything about me throwing us away? Hmm?” He spoke softly as if he was trying not to frighten a calf. When you didn’t answer him or meet his eyes, he bent down to your level, meeting your weary eyes and repeated his question. When you stayed silent, he kissed your forehead before placing his own against yours.

“I’m not throwing us away, okay? I’m not. Even if you think I am, I promise you I’m not. You’re stuck with me, okay? You got it? I’m not leaving you,”

“But what if Seattle-”

“If. If, baby. It’s not set in stone, it’s an if. A possibility. Joe doesn’t even think they’ll take me. Waiving my contract meant they could protect another D. I haven’t played in practically a season, Seattle probably won’t want me.”

“Probably. Meaning there’s a chance they do want you,”

“There’s also a chance I get hit with a car tomorrow, or that it starts snowing in July.” When that didn’t crack a smile from you, he sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen and I wish I did and I wish I could guarantee I stay here but I can’t. But I can guarantee that I’m not giving up on us, even if I go somewhere else,” He ended with a soft smile but furrowed his eyebrows when he saw your eyes go hard again.

“So you’d still expect me to go with you then?” You broke away from his embrace. “To pack up everything I’ve ever known just because you waived your contract?” You shook your head and started off towards your bedroom.

“What, no! No! Baby, c’mon,” He grabbed your hand and turned you to face him. “I don’t expect you to change your whole life for me. I know your job and your friends and your life here is important to you. But I do expect you to have a little bit more faith in me, in us, that we’d figure it out.” He sighed again and dropped your hand to run his hands through his hair.

“Look, hypothetically, hypothetically, if Seattle took me, I only have a year left on my contract. After that, I can decide where I want to go. So it’d be one year, not even, just one season where we’d have to do long distance if you don’t want to move. We could do that. I know we could. And… I’m not as young as I used to be. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to play. And so when that day comes, I can be wherever you are. I don’t care if it’s Milwaukee, Hawaii, Seattle, or here. I want to be wherever you are, even if it means we do 8 months apart. I’ll do 8 months apart if it means the rest of our lives together.”

The two of you stood there in the hallway, silent, contemplating what was said. Even though you had lived together for a year now, this was your first major fight. And your first real glimpse into your future. Sure, you’d mentioned in passing getting a dog or a house with an acreage for his horses, but it was all in passing. EJ was a joker and although he makes you laugh like no other, he isn’t the kind of guy to get serious too often.

“You want forever with me?”

“Fuck yeah, baby. You’re it for me. And you have for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were waiving your clause?” You were pleading with him at this point, your eyes searching his for any sort of answer.

“I didn’t want you to freak out, which based on tonight, was fair enough on my end. And seriously, Joe doesn’t think they’ll take me. I’m old and injury prone. But Sammy isn’t. And we need Sammy. It was for the good of the team. And if I told you, you would’ve tried to talk me out of it.” He shrugged. “But I’d already made up my mind.” He reached out to take your hands again, his thumbs rubbing your thumb knuckles. “It wasn’t against you. I didn’t tell anyone I was waiving it until it was done,” You were silent as he continued to caress your hands.

“I want forever with you too, you know?”

His eyes sifted and his signature goofy grin made its way into his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You looked up at him and squeezed his hands. “Even when you’re being stupid and leave me in the dark,”

“Well then I’m a very lucky man,” He pressed his lips to your cheek in a sloppy kiss which pulled a smile from you. His smile grew wider in triumph. “There’s the smile I know and love. C’mon, let’s go to bed, yeah?” You nodded and kept your hands intertwined as he led you to the bedroom. The two of you slowly got ready for bed, EJ slipping under the covers first. He opened the blanket for you, and you turned off the light before finding you spot cuddled into his side, your head resting on his chest. His hand ran over your hair, whether to soothe you or him, you weren’t sure.

“I love you. And nothing, not even Seattle, will ever change that.” He whispered into the dark room.

“I know.” You pressed a light kiss to his chest and laid your head back down. “I love you too.”

“Whatever happens, it’s me and you babe. I promise.” He kissed the top of your head and slowly you both fell asleep, his promise of the future lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

let me know what you think! thanks for reading!

join my taglist

[deansawthetvglow]

he’s empty. they’re free and he’s empty. he doesn’t want to tell sam, sam with his smile and his hope and his finger pointing directions to eileen’s apartment. but he is, numb and lost and empty and he doesn’t know what to do. 

and sure they’re free, and they’ve got a helluva god looking after them, but he still doesn’t feel like this is it. their big win. their big, beat god, settle the score, save the world win. and so, when they park in front of eileen’s, and sam reaches for the handle, dean stills him with a hand on his arm. and sam looks back, goofy smile fading at the emotion dean’s sure is written across his face.

dean clears his throat. he doesn’t know what to say.

sam’s voice breaks the silence.

“dean?”

dean drops his hand, then raises it to touch his left shoulder in an unconcious movement.

“just....just give me a second.”

and sam, being sam, sits. dean can feel the impatience buzzing off of him, but he knows sam will wait.

“it’s...it’s...” he can’t choke out the words

sam fills in the blank.

“cas?”

dean purses his lips, nods, glances to his brother’s too understanding eyes.

“we’ll get him back.”

dean nods again.

“that’s the problem, sammy. i...i’m not sure we will.”

and he feels hot tears on his cheeks and he wants to will them away, push them down, but god dammit, they are free and so dean’s going to allow himself to cry. god knows he deserves it.

under his breath, “fuck.”

sam’s hand smoothes over his back.

“i love ‘im, sammy.”

“i know.”

“we gotta get ‘im back.”

“we will.”

dean steels himself then, gets out of the driver’s seat and moves to the back, let’s sam run inside to reunite with his love. dean curls up, cries into the leather like he did the time they went to the fair and he dropped his ice cream and mom drove him home because he wouldn’t calm down. and he sobs, deep heaving sobs, and now he doesn’t feel so empty, just lost, and he feels sad, and he feels sorrow in his bones and the emotion shivers through him like a thunderstorm and then, it calms, it calms because his eyes are puffy and he can hear the sound of eileen’s front door, and the unintelligible words spoken by his brother to her. and like a prayer, puts his hands under his ear against the seat and he curls his knees into his chest even further and he lets his eyes droop close.

he’s exhausted. war worn. just plain fucking tired. 

so he lets his eyes close and he lets his breathing calm and he lets his hands stop shaking and he lets the tendrils of hope uncurl cautiously in his chest. and then he thinks, before sleep takes him,

we’re gonna get cas back.

[bustyasianbeautiespod]

Episode 27 Transcript: Cas and Andy A.K.A. The Backseat Boys

[intro guitar music]

G: Hello, my name is Grey.

C: And my name is Crystal.

G: And this is Busty Asian Beauties, the Supernatural commentary podcast where I, someone who has seen this show several times…

C: And I, someone who really knows the show through social media, discuss every single episode of Supernatural from start to finish. Also, we are both Asian.

G: Both Asian!

So for today's episode, we will be discussing Season 2, Episode 5: “Simon Said,” written by... Ben Edlund! Directed by Tim Iacofano.

C: Is this Bedlund’s first episode?

G: Yes, it's- I think it's Bedlund's first episode.

C: Ugh. I wish they fired him afterwards, but I guess at least we got 6x20 out of it.

G: I don't- like, I mean, I think we'll get into it later, but you don't like this episode for very specific reasons.

C: I hate this episode. [laughs]

G: Yeah, I don't share the sentiment, so-

C: Yeah.

G: But I don't really like the episode, so I'm not gonna argue for it that much, so if someone is out there being a die-hard fan of this episode, [laughs] there's no representation for you in this podcast.

C: Yeah, sorry, you should probably come back next week.

G: Yeah, sorry! [laughs] Yeah.

So, before going in, Crystal, what did you know about this episode?

C: I knew that we were going to meet Andy, who is a weed-smorking boyfriend with mind control powers, but- he's another one of the psychic kids, but he's generally chill and doesn't want to hurt anyone. I also knew that he had an evil twin, and also that when Sam and Dean find him, like, they're both sort of trying to find evidence that Sam can be good or is destined to be evil, and that's sort of the underlying emotional current.

-

G: Okay, so we start with this man walking down the street. He's very jolly, he's saying hi to people. His name is Dr. Jennings. And it seems to be, like, a small town where people all know each other. His cell phone rings, and he picks it up, and then we- while on the call, we start seeing visions of something, that something being Dr. Jennings shooting down a place. He hangs up and goes to- a gun shop, I guess? Well, it's not a gun shop. It's like, just a shop with guns in it, which was shocking to me.

C: Yeah, apparently it's a sports equipment shop, so I guess if you're in a state where [overlapping] hunting is a common sport, it would just be a section in the store.

G: Yeah, I guess so. And Dr. Jennings comes up to a guy and asks to look at a gun. At first, the guy hesitates, because I guess Dr. Jennings isn't the type to go hunting, but he gives him the gun anyway. A turkey-hunting gun. And Dr. Jennings is, you know, looking at the gun and everything, acting all casual, and asks for what the shells for this gun is. And the man gives it to him, and then he starts loading up the fucking gun! And at first, the man stops him because this is illegal, but Dr. Jennings shoots the guy. And then shoots himself. And as we see the blood splatter of Dr. Jennings's head, we fade into Sam standing over a sink, washing his face. I love the visual of like, when someone is in distress, they wash their face. [laughing]

C: [laughing] Yeah.

G: Yeah. Like, of course he's washing his face in this moment.

C: Yeah. He's running his wet hands through his wet hair. Like, go girl.

G: Sam is in distress. He obviously just saw this vision. Dean... comes into the bathroom?! [laughs] What a weird scene. Why not lock your door, Sam?

C: He was just washing his face? Yeah, you lock the door if you pee, and you keep the door unlocked if you're just washing your face to have a hot girl breakdown.

G: So Dean comes in the bathroom, and he's like, "Oh, zip-zip Sammy, we have to go," and he notices that Sam is not okay, and he goes, "Oh. What is happening?"

C: [laughing] Also, when Dean comes in, you see him through the reflection in the mirror, and it's all angled weird, and he looks so silly and goofy.

-

C: So we're in the Impala. Dean's driving again. Boo. And they're talking about the vision. Sam, apparently, wants them to go to the Roadhouse to suss out if the demon is involved in this and where he might be, but Dean says that going to the Roadhouse might not be a good idea, because there's going to be hunters there, and he says, “I don't know if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?” And Sam says, “So I'm a freak now?” And Dean, with the older brother instincts of never being able to comfort anyone and making everything worse, slaps him, and goes, “You've always been a freak.” [laughs] Agh. So fun. Also this is quite similar to their conversation at the end of “Skin” where Sam says that “At Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” and Dean says, “That's because you're a freak” and then, “Well, I'm a freak, too.” Except here, now, Sam’s the only freak. [laughs] Sorry, Sammy.

G: So we go to the Roadhouse, and Jo- we see Jo playing an arcade game - a shooter arcade game - as a man watches. And she hits every single deer in the shooting game, and the guy's like, "Oh, you're really good," and hands over a couple of bucks. Apparently, there's like, a bet going on. And as Jo walks away, Ellen comes in, and says "You got hustled, bro," and and shows the high score of the arcade game, and it's all Jo. Fantastic. Go Jo.

I love Jo this episode. What are your thoughts about her?

C: She didn't get that much time, I suppose, and I wish she had more to do than look at Dean, but, I mean, she's fun.

G: Is Jo is our first- yeah, yeah, yeah.

C: Recurring female character?

G: She's like, the first young recurring female character. Like, Sam and Dean's age.

C: Yeah. That's true. The rest of them get kissed or fucked once and then never spoken to again. I mean, I guess you could argue that Meg is a recurring young woman-

G: Oh, yeah!

C: - but she's actually centuries old.

G: Yeah, I mean, I guess she wasn't a love interest, so. Jo is. And like, do you- weird question, I guess, but - do you ship Dean and Jo?

C: Um, I think that Jo is a lesbian. [laughs] That's what I think.

G: Mm. I kind of see the appeal. And I feel like if the environment, i.e. the fandom at the time wasn't so misogynistic, like, it could have been a thing, you know?

C: I like the idea of Dean one-sidedly pining for Jo. 'Cause later, when he's singing the song in the car, I'm like, "Maybe he will become better just by liking her and like, being less like, aggressively masculine," but I don't really see any appeal in them like, actually getting together.

G: Yeah, it's about the slow burn. [laughs]

C: The slow burn that never stops. Well, that does stop and then stops burning and never happens, yes. [laughs]

G: I feel like I should be defending Deanjo in this podcast because, like, I do like them. I do like the idea of Deanjo. But [laughs] I don't like it that much to fucking fight for my life for it, so. [C laughs]

Anyway, Dean comes in, with Sam. [laughs] "I to am in this episode." [C laughs] So Dean says hi to Jo, and Jo makes a joke like, "You can't stay away, huh?" and Dean’s like, “Yeah. How you doing, Jo?” And then Sam comes in and is like, “Where’s Ash?” and Jo’s like, “Oh, in the backroom. Also, I'm okay!” Dean apologizes, says like, "We're in a timetable right now, so, my bad." And we go to the backroom, where Ash is, and Sam and Dean knock. Sam is saying, “Ash, Ash!” and, [laughing] there's a wooden sign by the door that says "Dr. Badass" -

C: "Is In."

G: Yeah, "Dr. Badass Is In," and Dean takes notice and then follows suit, and says, “Hey, Dr. Badass!” And the door opens, and, I guess, I mean, we don't see the lower half of Ash, but I guess he's naked.

C: We don't get to see if his ass is bad or not!

G: You can see that, through his glutes have seen naked.

G: Dean and Sam avert their eyes as Ash sniffs them up? Did you notice that?

C: [laughing] Omegaverse.

G: [laughing] Noo! This is our second episode with in a row with mentions of omegaverse. I feel like-

C: And I'll do it again! [laughs]

G: - people are gonna stop listening to us. [laughs]

C: [laughing] I don't like omegaverse, and I think the premise is inherently flawed, please come back!

G: As soon as Sam and Dean say that they need Ash's help, Ash puts on his pants, and they go to sit in the middle of the Roadhouse. Oh, I forgot to say! The Roadhouse is buzzing tonight, baby!

C: Yeah.

G: It's full of people! Business doing well. Go Ellen. I support a girlboss winning- is that what they say? Is that the phrase?

C: I- think- "I love to see a girlboss winning."

G: [overlapping] I think it's "I hate to see-" yeah, exactly. I love to see a girlboss win.

C: Yeah. So Ash has his laptop open, and Sam's asking him to look up the logo from the bus that he saw in his vision, the Blue Ridge bus line. Apparently, it's only in Guthrie, Oklahoma.

G: It's fascinating what Sam remembers in the visions. Like, do you think it's ingrained in his brain, or is it just like, like, seeing things, you know? Do you think his brain like, just seeing the bus line and his brain is doing a cinematography thing where like, "The bus line is important, Sam! Remember the bus line!" [laughs] Or do you think he's seeing it, like, how you see real life?

C: I think that what we see on screen is what Sam sees in his mind, so yeah, I think we get the zoom in on the bus line. You'd think that Sam would notice that it'd be good to remove the cell phone from that guy, though, but he forgot that part.

So, Sam asks Ash to check if Guthrie, Oklahoma has any demonic signs or omens, and Ash says, "Why do you think that the demon's here?" and Sam and Dean exchange a look like "we're or not gonna say you're psychic," so Dean's just like, "Just check, okay?" There's no signs there. So then Sam decides to ask about a house fire in 1983 that starts in a baby's nursery when they're six months old. He bribes Ash with a beer to look it up, and Ash does.

Meanwhile, Jo is at the jukebox, [G starts laughing] and she plays the song "Can't Fight This Feeling"-

G: Yeah!

C: - by Rio Speedwagon?

G: REO Speedwagon.

C: I don't know this song. REO Speedwagon.

G: You don't know this song?

C: No.

G: This is like, I think this is very famous in the Philippines. Or, like, it's very famous with my dad. [both laugh]

Like, I started cheering and crying, when the song played. Like, yes, go! Because it's so pointed, too, like, especially when you know the lyrics, it's like- the song is about like, removing all inhibitions, you know? [laughs] Like- so it's like- I thought she was making fun of Dean, like she was actively teasing him. So I thought the song choice was very good.

C: Dean makes a judgmental face, and he goes, “REO Speedwagon?” and Jo says, “Damn, right. Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart." And Dean says, "He sings it from the hair. There's a difference." And I think I wrote down here, "Oh, that's why Queen is not in any of the Supernatural soundtracks or title references." And also because they're gay, but also because they have long hair.

G: No, fucking Led Zeppelin- they all have long hair.

C: Okay, then I don't get it.

G: That's just the look of the genre at the time.

C: Then why isn't- I mean, I guess it's because Eric Kripke is homophobic. Is that why Queen is not featured on Supernatural at all?

G: I fucking bet.

C: Okay, yeah.

G: So, [laughing] Eric Kripke, pay for your sins. [C laughs]

C: Jo asks Dean about the profile that Ash was looking for and mentions how she knows that Mary died in the same way. Dean tries to shoo her off, but she says, “I could help.” But Dean says, “No, we have to handle this one ourselves. Besides, if I ran off with you, I think your mother might kill me.” [laughs] Ellen gives him a little glare by the bar, and Dean makes a little scared face. And Jo's teasing him about being afraid of Ellen, and as this is happening, Sam runs up to Dean and goes, like, "We have a match, we have to go," so they head out, leaving poor Jo behind.

-

G: So, "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore," like, keeps on playing as the Impala drives off, but now it's Dean who's singing it! A part of me is like, "Aw, Dean is singing," and other part of me is like, "Ew, Jensen Ackles is singing."

C: [darkly] Jensen Ackles. [both laugh] Radio Company, get the fuck out of here.

G: [laughing] Should we do a bit about Radio Company's music?

C: We could do a line-by-line analysis of "Watching Over Me," except there's literally nothing to analyze, and it's not a Cas song because Cas deserves better.

G: Literally.

C: So yeah, I guess we have nothing.

G: Anyway, as Dean is singing, he's singing- he sings right before the chorus, and I was like, "Well, that sucks," that Sam stops him right before the good bits.

C: But it also means that Dan knows the song well enough that he knows the non-chorus lines, which means he must have listened to it a lot.

G: Everybody-

C: I don't!

G: Everybody knows this song. [laughs]

C: [laughing] I don't!

G: I knew this song when I was fucking 4!

Sam stops him by saying, "You're kidding, right?" and Dean's like, "Oh, I heard this song somewhere, I can't get it out of my head," and asks Sam, like, "Oh, what do you have?" And Sam says, "Andrew Gallagher. Born in '83, like me, lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, also like me." They talk about whether the demon killed his mom, and Sam's like, "Yeah," and Dean asked, like, "How did you know to look for this guy?" and Sam says, “Oh, the premo” - [laughs] he says, “Every premonition I've had,” and like, you've had one premonition outside of your family, Sam [C laughs].  But this is like, the part where Sam reminds Dean of Max Miller, and it's like, "Oh, yeah, because Dean should have forgotten about Max at this point." Sam says, "Every premonition I've had is about someone who was like me," and Dean like, gets up in arms about Sam comparing himself to Max because Max is, you know, a murder. But Sam's like, "Well, the point is he was killing people, and I'm seeing someone kill people, so it may be a similar thing." They talk about where to find Andy. Sam says he doesn't have an address, and he has so many bills that are unpaid, but the debt collectors just let Andy walk away. So that's, like, "Ooh, why is that?"

C: What a king.

-

C: So we go to a diner or cafe, and there's a waitress there named Tracy who's talking to Sam and Dean. She tells them that debt collectors often come by to talk to Andy, but they always leave. Dean lies about them being lawyers representing Andy's aunt, who left him an inheritance, and Sam starts asking around about Andy. Tracy reveals that she and Andy have some kind of history, and then some other random guy swoops in. He's like, "Andy? Andy kicks ass, man! He can get you into anything! He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once." And Dean starts making an impressed little face, like, "Good taste in music" because [G makes sound of disagreement] as we learn later- no? Is it bad taste in music? Is that the face?

G: Do you know the song "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing"?

C: No.

G: Oh my god. [laughs] Crystal, what do you know?

C: Mitski.

G: I don't think Aerosmith is a good... like, I don't think Dean would be like, "Oh, Aerosmith, yeah, of course."

C: Okay, I guess just because he seemed to like Andy a lot already before they even saw the van, I assumed that he was impressed by this in some way.

G: No. I'm not impressed. So. [laughs] But, alas. Maybe Dean is.

C: Yeah.

G: Yeah, what a weird thing to do, that he doesn't like REO Speedwagon but likes Aerosmith.

C: He's a weird little man.

So Tracy tells them that they can find Andy on Orchard St at the house with a van with a barbarian queen riding a polar bear painted on the side. What a king.

G: Okay, so Sam and Dean are in the Orchard St, and Dean is admiring the fucking van. And it's a pretty cool van! Okay, here's the thing. Sometimes I like, look at myself, and I wonder, "Did I really watch season 2?" [both laugh] Because, like, I'd forgotten a lot of it, and sometimes I just question. Like, I know I did, but sometimes I question it. And then I watched this episode, and I saw that van, and I was like, "Oh, I've definitely seen that van before. I've definitely watched this episode before." And that scene later on, where Andy asks, "Tell the truth," and Dean starts like, speaking without hesitation, like, that scene, too, I remember it so vividly. So, [lauging] I guess we have proven once and for all that I have seen Supernatural.

C: Congratulations!

G: Thank you. And I do remember it. So, good for me.

Dean is complimenting the van, and there's this really funny shot where, as soon as Dean is like, "Oh, that's a sweet van," and then he turns to Sam, who is looking like the most done person in the world. Sam says that Andrew Gallagher is the second guy they found, and every single guy they find that's kind of like Sam are killing people. And Dean starts this whole thing where he's completely on Andy's side. This entire episode, it happens. He's like, "Andy might be good, might be innocent." We know why he's doing this. It's because he's trying to placate Sam and himself that, "Hey, just because you have these demonic visions doesn't mean that you are demonic in nature!" This is where Sam brings up the thing that the demon said, that like, "He had plans for me and children like me. Maybe this is his plan. Maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks. Maybe we're all supposed to be..." dot dot dot, and Dean's like, "Killers? So the demon wants you out there, killing with your minds. Is that it? You're not a murder, Sam! You don't have it in your bones." [laughing] Sam's like, "Well, actually, [C starts laughing] I do actually kill, like, a lot of things, so..." And Dean's like, "Those things were asking for it. There's a difference." Which is such a- like, I get that he's trying to placate, Sam, right?

C: Yeah.

G: But like, you just had that moral dilemma two episodes ago where you were like, "Oh my god, what if the things that we killed are not actually worth killing?" or whatever, and now you're like, "Eh. They all deserved to die. It's alright, Sammy, it's alright! [C laughs] It's fine. It's alright!" [laughing] Like, come on, Dean.

As they are having this conversation, a man comes out of an apartment building. It's Andy! He's wearing pajamas and a very nice satin robe. Nice because it has dragons on it, so this guy likes likes a big statement piece. It's a whole thing. Like, Andy is saying goodbye to a woman who is on top of the apartment, and it's, you know, she's blowing him a kiss. Andy keeps on walking and comes across the guy that we saw from earlier, Dr. Jennings. And Sam recognizes the guy, so he goes to follow Dr. Jennings while Dean goes to follow Andy.

C: So [sighs] the thing about a woman in the window. Right after we see her, we see Andy say hi to a man on the street and talk him into giving Andy his coffee, right? And the fact that this all happens in the same sequence, and the vibe we're supposed to get is like, "He's very well-liked and gets everything he wants because he has secret powers" just makes me wonder how much this woman consented to sex with him.

G: At this point, we're supposed to think that. I think it gets shown later on in the episode that he is like, better than that. Like he said, like, he doesn't use his powers like, the girl, you know, the girl dating-

C: Well, he says he's never used his powers on Tracy.

G: Yeah.

C: That doesn't mean he hasn't used them on anyone else, though.

G: Yeah, but, like, to defend him, I guess, like, I think the episode is purposefully framing him as potentially dangerous at this point, so you are supposed to get that vibe, but the episode then like, comes back later on and is like, "No, he's a good guy, he won't do that." So.

C: Mm, yeah, I suppose.

C: Dean starts falling Andy in the Impala because Andy gets in the van while Sam's following Dr. Jennings.

G: So funny that he was like, "I'm just gonna follow this guy in my creaky-ass, old-ass, giant-ass car." [laughs] And he was like, "This is gonna work out! It's fine!" [C laughs]

C: "He doesn't have powers or anything. I'll be chill!" Dean just really wanted to look at that van some more. As as a carfucker, Dean's blood was not in his brain; it had gone down south.

Andy notices that Dean’s following him and comes over, and he says, "Hey." They have a conversation where they're both cheery and smiling so much. Andy's complimenting the Impala, and Dean's like, giggling and twirling his hair and being like, "Yeah, I just rebuilt her."

G: Yeah. There are fascinating shots of Dean's hands that I didn't know what to make out of. Like, he puts-

C: It's because he was tucking a gun back into his jacket.

G: Yeah, he was tucking a gun in his jacket, and then like, it goes back again where he's like, slapping his thigh, like, in enthusiasm [C laughs], and I was like, "Okay, I don't know what to think of this, but proceed."

C: I will say that Dean and Andy fuck in "bad moon rising." [laughs]

G: For real?

C: Yeah.

G: Good for them!

C: Yeah, good for them!

Right in the middle of the conversation, Andy's like, "Yeah. Um, hey, can I have the car?" [starts laughing] And Dean, smiling, goes, "Sure, man!" and he just gets out and goes, "Hop right in! There you go!" And he's just smiling and waving until Andy's further away, and then he's standing in the street, looking like a total loser. Andy's an icon for that. Thank you.

G: This is so fascinating to me, that, even after that, Dean was like, "He's not a bad guy!"

C: I know!

G: [laughing] Like, he really loves Sam so much and he's willing to like, placate Sam so much that he's like, "He stole my car, Sam, it's fine," and inside he's like, fucking crying. [C laughing]

C: Sometimes he can be a good brother.

G: Sam is following Dr. Jennings, and we see what happened in the vision, which is he gets the call, and he's heading to the sporting goods center when Sam goes there. He pulls the emergency alarm, so Dr. Jennings turns away, which is a weird choice, I feel. Like he was like, "Oh, the sporting goods center is on fire, so I'm turning away!" Like, don't you feel like if he was being mind controlled as strongly as, you know, we see later on, like, he would just keep on going?

C: I guess I just assumed that Ansem gave him very specific instructions about what to do, so if the state of the store changes at all, then the instructions no longer apply.

G: Yeah, yeah, maybe.

C: Like a computer program, you know? Like, "Oh, error."

G: Yeah. So Sam stands in front of the store and is just looking. Andy drives by in the fucking Impala, and he's like, "Oh my god!" [C laughs]

Dr. Jennings, meanwhile, gets another phone call, but Sam doesn't see it because Sam is calling Dean about the car. And Dean makes a Star Wars reference, you know, it's a whole thing. And as he's calling Dean, he turns his head, and Dr. Jennings steps in front of a bus. And he dies. RIP.

C: Sorry, bro.

So we see the ambulance put Dr. Jennings away, and Sam and Dean watch. Sam's looking really guilty, and he says, like, "I thought that he was gonna be okay after I kept him out of the gun store. I should have stayed with him."

G: [laughing] The fact that they're having this conversation right there [C laughs] next to a body. [both laughing] Like, the cops are overhearing this random guy being like, "I should have stopped him. I thought he past it." Like, come on, dude.

-

C: So we're back at the diner, and Andy comes in, looking really upset. He goes over to Tracy and tells her that Dr. Jennings is dead. We don't ever really learn what Andy's relationship to Dr. Jennings is in his adult life at all, do we?

G: Yeah. I think he, like, because it's a small town where everyone knows everyone.

C: Mm, yeah, so he just likes him as a dude who he sees sometimes.

G: Yeah.

C: Yeah. But no one else seems to care, right? Like, Tracy's just like, "I'm sorry, like, I know this hurts you personally," like, she doesn't care that much, so he and Dr. Jennings had to have been like, friends. Closer than him and Tracy, at least.

Okay, so Andy tells her that he was upset and wanted to see her, and they start holding hands. Meanwhile, the guy from the first scene in the diner is washing dishes and probably seeing all this. Tracy tells him that she misses him, and then tells him that there are some guys looking for him, and Andy gets alarmed.

G: Yeah. The thing is, we know Andy, right?

C: Yeah.

G: So we know if he didn't do the killings. But the concept of the - prior, we think it's him, so it's like, this guy literally killed this man just so he can get it on with a girl? [C laughs] Wild! I love that implication. Like, I love that that's where Supernatural goes, because it's like, you do feel so much content for the guy when you just like, have that in front of you, like, at the beginning, right, before you know what's actually going on.

C: Yeah.

G: I don't know, I really like that that's the implication.

C: Yeah.

G: So Sam and Dean are walking. [laughs] They're just walking in the street. They're like, "Okay, we don't have a car. Let's just take a fucking walk." And they see Baby! So- how do you feel, by the way, about calling the car Baby?

C: I thought it was the stupidest, funniest thing I'd ever heard when I heard about it before I was in the Supernatural fandom, but now, I'm used to it now, so I don't even have any thoughts on it.

G: Yeah. That's literally Baby.

C: But like, Dean absolutely fucks that car.

G: Yeah, that's literally Baby! That's literally his Baby.

Anyway, he goes up to Baby, and he's like, "Oh, he left the keys inside!" so they were able to hop in. And Dean figures out that this guy only does mind control using verbal commands. And Sam says, “Oh, the doctor was just on the phone, so maybe he commanded the doctor to throw himself in front of the bus," and Dean's like, "Hm, I don't know. Maybe." And Sam's like, "Excuse me?" And Dean- this is where Dean starts his thing again where he's like, "I don't know. He seems like an innocent guy!" They go down to track this guy-

C: I think that it was a really smart choice to have "Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things" right before this episode, where Dean is so ready to accuse everyone of everything based off of no evidence, so you can really see how much he is in denial this episode.

G: Yeah. I mean, again, he's vindicated, again, but-

C: [laughs] Mm-hm.

G: But if he wasn't, he would have still been like, you know, like, "No! This Andy guy-" you know. His convictions are really based on subjective as fuck reasons.

C: Yeah. [laughing] Where's your logic and rationality, Dean?

G: [laughs] Yeah. So Sam and Dean approach Andy's van in the middle of the fucking street. In the middle of the fucking street! [laughs] They're crowbarring this guy's fucking van open, in the middle of the fucking street. So they open it, and we see the interior of the car, which is - it has a disco ball, there's fur rugs everywhere, there's a tiger and the side of the van, and there's a fucking bong- that's what it's called, right?

C: Yeah, yep.

G: Anyway, Dean is very impressed.

C: Do we think that Ash and Andy would be a good ship?

G: Ash and Andy? You know what I thought of?

C: What?

G: Well, okay, I'll answer that first, and then I'll say what I thought of.

I think Ash and Andy would be pretty cool. Like, they have the same vibes, but it would be like, too much of the same thing, you know?

C: Yeah, yeah.

G: Like, they're both geniuses who are like, "rock and roll, baby!" You know what I thought? [laughs]

C: What?

G: Like, I thought- when Andy was in the backseat, I was like, "You know what should have happened?" They should have taken Andy under their wing, and it's a whole thing, like, Sam, Dean, and Andy, and then, when Cas comes-!

C: Oh?

G: Andy and Cas would be a good pair, right? They would be like, the backseat boys, and- [C laughs] they're just hanging out in the backseat, you know? Cas is super straightlaced and Andy's like, "Party on, Cas!" and it's a whole thing, and I thought it would have been fascinating.

C: Yeah, that would be cute. And I feel like it would be interesting to see them in endverse as well.

G: Yeah, exactly. I have no idea how Andy's story ends. Like, I've forgotten.

C: Don't most of the psychic kids die in the hunger games near the end of season two?

G: Yeah, but I don't know what happens to him specifically. Like, does he have anything else happen to him before he dies? You know, shit like that.

C: Well, he's gotta fuck Ash, Dean, and Cas first, so that's what.

G: Yeah! You gotta fuck Cas first, bro!

Me. [C laughing] That's my dream.

Anyway, Dean is very impressed. He likes the tiger. Sam picks up the books, and it's Hegel, it's Kant, it's Wittgenstein. And he's also very impressed. And Dean picks up the bong, [laughs] and they're also very impressed. [C laughs]

C: Yeah.

G: What is the normal size of a bong?

C: Smaller than that. [laughs]

G: Way smaller?

C: I'd say so, yeah.

G: Yeah. How does a bong work? [laughing] Let me google it.

C: I don't actually know.

G: "How does a bong work?"

C: I think you put the weed in like, the circular part at the end, and you like, put the fire through the tube at the bottom, and then you breathe in, and the smoke rises?

G: I have no idea what this Redditor is saying. Oh, it's like- you know in pipes, when- I mean I- God. [laughs] I am such a guy, you know? Like, I'm into Led Zeppelin, I had a pipe phase. [both laugh] But you know how in pipes, like, the longer it is, the cooler the smoke gets before it reaches your mouth?

C: Oh.

G: So, like, I think it's the same logic here that, like, the bong exists to cool down the smoke before it reaches your mouth, so like, the longer the bong is, the cooler the smoke? Cool.

C: Yeah, so Sam and Dean are sitting in the Impala. It's parked, they're waiting for Andy or just talking, maybe. Dean's complaining about the food, and Sam's trying to figure out why Andy would kill the doctor. And Dean's like, "If it is Andy," and Sam's like, "Bro, like, stop it. Obviously, the doctor who was mind controlled to die who lives in the town with the mind controller was killed by the mind controller." Dean just says, “I don't think he's got it in him, that's all.” And Dean says, “You're not right about this.” And before Sam can question him further, Andy appears in the window, and he asks them, “Why are you following me?” But there's some kind of effect.

G: Yeah.

C: Do you know- what is the effect?

G: It's like, it just echoes, right?

C: Yeah.

G: Like, "Why are you following me... me... me..." [laughs]

C: Yeah. [laughs] To show that he is compelling them. So, Sam starts lying, going with the lawyer thing, and Andy yells, "Tell the truth!" And Dean goes, "We hunt demons." And Andy goes, "What?" And Dean goes, "Demons and spirits." And I go, "Oh my god, Cas in 'Free to Be You and Me' core!"

Dean keeps talking, he says, “Sam's my brother.” Sam’s like, “Dean, shut up,” and Dean says, “I'm trying,” but he keeps smiling and talking. He says, "He's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, because you're all part of something that's terrible, and I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right.” And Andy just goes, "Fuck this. Leave me alone." And Dean goes, "Okay!" But Sam gets out of the car and starts following Andy. Andy keeps ordering Sam to go away, but the powers don't work on him. Sam keeps talking, he says that he knows about Andy's powers, and "it started about a year ago, right after you turned 22, huh? Little stuff at first, and then you got better at controlling it." Andy's getting pretty scared at this moment-

G: I mean, I would be as well. Have you seen how big Sam is in this episode?

C: He's so tall.

G: He's so fucking big! What the fuck? I guess like, we're used to seeing him beside Dean where he's just a little bit big, but beside Andy, Andy is like a foot smaller than him.

C: Yeah, Andy is a short king.

So he tells Andy that his mom also died in a fire, he has abilities, and they're connected. And then he asks, "Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?" and Andy is shocked, he says, "What? I didn't." And then we get another Sam vision time. There's a blonde woman at a gas station who is gassing up her car, she gets a phone call, there's like, a vision of fire, and then after she agrees to whoever's on the phone, she starts covering herself in gasoline and then pulls out a cigarette lighter, says, “It's gonna be okay,” and then lights herself on fire. Whoo!

G: God. What a visual.

C: Yeah.

G: The fire here looks so good! It genuinely looks like she's fucking immolating herself! And like, what Dean says later, like, "You can still smell it," it's such a visceral thing to say that I was like- I feel like I was taken to this place, and I saw this woman self-immolate. What a scene.

C: Yeah, it's pretty good.

G: Sam collapses, and Dean catches him, and Andy was like, "I didn't do anything to him!" And Sam relays to Dean that he saw a woman burn alive at a gas station. And then they see a fire truck pass by. Sam tells Dean to go follow that fire truck. And so he does. In the fire station, Dean calls Sam, and the woman is fucking dead. And she's been dead for like, a couple of minutes already, so when Dean arrived, like, that's when she died. So this is not even a head-start premonition. This is like, it happened pretty much the moment the situation happened. And Dean says that Andy was with them when the immolation happened, when the phone call with the woman happened, so it must not be Andy. So Dean says that he will dig around some more. Sam and Andy continue talking. [laughing] Andy tells Sam that his visions suck.

C: Yeah.

G: He's like, "Wait, we all have powers. All of us who this thing happened to, we all have powers. And I have this amazing power that makes me feel like I won the fucking lottery," and also, like, if he just goes to the lottery and he was like, "Let me win the lottery," like, he could literally win the lottery. So like, this guy's fucking solid, you know? And Sam's visions are literally "I see people die." [both laughing] He does get the- he did get the short end of the stick. Wow. I love a metaphor. Anyway, they continue talking.

This one's interesting. This line is interesting. Andy says, like, "It was a gift, my thing," and then Sam asks, "But you still live in a van. I don't get it. You can have anything you ever wanted," and Andy said, "I mean, I've got everything I need." I thought we could linger on that for a bit. What did you think of that line?

C: What do you think that Sam would do if he had Andy's powers?

G: Yeah, exactly, that's like, the question, right? Like, would he- like, would he just tell vampires, like, "Hey. Just die." [laughs] I think that would be an efficient-

C: Well, no, I think it'd be more- now that he knows about Lenore, it'd be like, "Hey, just stick to cows from now on."

G: Yeah. Though the whole point of this thing is like, Sam's comparing himself to Andy, right?

C: Yeah.

G: And he's like, "You have this opportunity for a normal life. A life better than normal, even. Why you're settling to live like me, like, a nomadic lifestyle in a car?"

C: If Sam had these powers at 22, then [laughing] when Dean came over, he would just tell Dean to go away, and then we wouldn't have to watch 15 seasons of Supernatural.

G: I don't think he would do that. I don't know, it's just it's fascinating that the way Sam frames it, like, "You can have everything you've ever wanted," and the reply is "I have everything I need." So are we supposed to think that of Sam? Like, is that what the story is trying to tell us, that like, "Sam's got everything he needs, so he doesn't have to pursue the things that he wants!" which is like, a fucked-up thing to say, right?

C: Yeah. I don't know. Because there's not really that much focus on Sam's hopes and dreams this episode, so it's hard to tell if they are saying anything.

G: When that scene happened, I was like, "Why this line in this episode?" It feels out of place- like, it feels significant because it feels out of place, you know?

C: Mm-hmm.

G: Anyway, so Sam asks, "So you're not really a killer?" Andy says, "I've been trying to tell you that!" and he's like, you know, very playful now. So that's cute. And Sam says, “That's good. That means there's hope for the both of us.”

-

C: Dean shows up and says that the person who died, her name was Holly Beckett, and apparently, Dean called Ash to run a background check on her, and she gave birth when she was 18 year old- 18 years old, back in 1983, on the same day that Andy was born. So we find out that Andy was adopted. Dean seems really mad that he never brought that up. Like, who cares? Like, why would that be relevant? So they think that Holly might be Andy's birth mother, so Dean says that he couldn't get a copy of the birth records because they're sealed in the county office, and Andy's like, "Well, screw that." [laughs]

They're at the records office, and they have access to all the files. Andy's telling the security guard like, "Everything's fine! Go get coffee!" And then he says, “These aren't the droids you're looking for.” Is that a Star Wars reference or something?

G: I mean, I assume so.

C: Right, yeah, continuing Dean's Obi-Wan Kenobi thing. Dean is very happy at this line. He's like, smiling and going, "Awesome!" He wants to fuck this man.

G: [laughing] I didn't see it that way, but I respect your opinion.

C: Thank you.

So they confirm that Holly Beckett is Andy's birth mother and that Dr. Jennings was her doctor who also oversaw the adoption. And then, Sam, the dramatic bitch, finally reveals, "Oh, I think I know who killed them. Holly Beckett gave birth to twins." Dun-dun-dun! [G laughs] I can't believe Supernatural is doing an evil twins storyline. Like it w- it could work, but it's very funny.

G: Do you know about the other evil twin storyline in Supernatural?

C: Arthur Ketch and-

G: [laughing] Yeah.

C: - what's the other guy? The other not actual guy?

G: [laughing] I don't know! Amazing.

Ketch is like, the worst character in Supernatural. That's probably not true, but he is my most beloathed character in Supernatural, and when he- every time he comes back, I'm like, "Let's just get it over with, guys. Let's just fucking kill this guy." And he never dies!

C: Ugh.

G: Well, I mean, he does die, but, fuck that guy. But his twin- evil twin line is so fucking funny.

C: So Andy is freaking out, he's in shock. He says, “I have an evil twin.” Yeah, Andy. I'm really sorry. Holly put Andy and his brother Ansem up for adoption. His brother's name is Ansem Weems, and apparently, he lives in this town. Dean is printing a photo of him from the DMV, and he looks at it, and he goes "Oh, geez," basically. So he hands the picture over to Andy, who's in shock.

G: Yeah. I just want to say that, like, it's fascinating that they conclude like, we realize in this episode, right, that Mary dying is not like a- not a blood thing. Like, it's not like, "You birthed this child, and then, because I feed him demon blood, you also die." It's a matter of who's there.

C: Yeah.

G: So like, why is it all the mothers then?

C: Yeah!

G: Like, I'm pretty sure a dad was there one time.

C: Azazel's just a misogynist.

G: Literally a misogynist.

C: The only way for these children to survive is if they had two dads. [laughs]

G: [laughing] Yeah.

C: Azazel would just not bother.

G: Maybe that's what happened to the evil twin!

C: So true.

-

G: We don't see the photo, but we do go immediately to Weber from the diner. If you don't recall - which I didn't, I was like, "Who the fuck is this guy? He looks like Frodo from Lord of the Rings." [C laughs] And he does, doesn't he?

C: Yeah, his eyes, I can see it.

G: Yeah. I was like, "Why are we going to Frodo right now?" And apparently, it's the guy from the diner earlier, who was like, "Oh, the Aerosmith concert," blah blah blah. So it's this guy, and he's talking to Tracy. And- ugh. Yeah. This sucks to talk about. Like, the next couple of scenes after this.

C: Yeah.

G: Weber is talking to Tracy about Andy, and he's asking like, how she feels about him these days. Apparently, Tracy and Andy were together before. He's asking if there's still something there, if they were ever serious. And then Tracy's like, "Um, no," and then she was about to leave. Weber stops him and says, “Tell the truth,” and it has the same echo effect as what we heard with Andy.

Sam and Dean are driving in the Impala, and Andy's in the backseat! And he's doing the exact same pose that Cas does at some point.

C: Aww.

G: And this is like, the moment where I was like, "Andy and Cas could have been a thing and have been so happy," and in a better universe, Destiel is nothing [C laughs] compared to Andystiel. [both laugh]

Anyway, Sam asks, like, "What do you know about this guy Weber?" Andy says, “He acted like he was my best friend in the world, like, kind of weird, tries too hard." Sam starts having a vision again. The vision is - we see Tracy, and she's wearing, like, a nightgown, but a really short one, and she's walking to a dam, and she's standing over the edge of the dam. And then she fucking jumps. So.

C: Yeah, and she's also crying the whole time.

G: Yeah, yeah.

C: Which I think makes this scene a lot more disturbing because the other deaths that we all saw, they were so calm. They kept saying, "Everything's okay, everything's okay." But like, you can see that she is like, suffering and fighting against it.

G: This is why, like- I mean, like, this scene would still be bad to look at - by "this scene," I mean the scenes later on - would still be bad to look at, even if she was like, just placid, right?

C: Yeah.

G: But it's such a weird choice that they made her the only one who's screaming and crying.

C: Yeah, it definitely makes all of it a lot more disturbing to watch. And also, her being in lingerie in this scene is also really disturbing because I was like, "Oh, he rapes her first. Great!"

G: Yeah.

C: Sam starts yelling because he's seen the vision, and he starts trying to get out of the Impala. And Dean like, catches him as he starts falling again.

-

C: So now we're at the bridge, and Ansem is driving with Tracy in the passenger seat, and she looks really scared. And he starts like, feeling her up. And he says, “I take my ladies here. They like it. Well, I mean, I like it, so of course they do too.” Yay... I love when people say words and how words and sentences exist in the world. So Tracy starts crying and begging to be let go, and he demands that she stops crying, which she does, but I guess it doesn't last.

G: Yeah, like, she stops crying- sobbing, but tears are still falling out of her eyes.

C: Yeah. So he says, “I see what you see in Andy. I mean, he's a genius. He's gonna be a great man someday. But he's my family, not yours. You can't have him. You're not gonna have anything after tonight.”

G: Okay.

C: Okay.

G: This is the part, I guess, where I bring up that, if Andy is a Sam mirror, does that make Weber a Dean mirror?

C: Oh, dear.

G: This is why- especially later on, like, when Weber confronts Andy, right, and he keeps on saying things about family and all that, and I was like-

C: Right. Oh dear.

G: "Damn! Oh god!" [laughs] I don't think it's the intention of the episode, especially not now, not when this aired the first time. But there is this kind of feeling later on where Dean is like, you know, with Ruby, he's like, jealous of Ruby. When Sam lives a life in season 8, he gets angry at Sam for leaving him behind. So we do get vibes of Weber behavior from Dean later on.

C: Yeah.

G: Fun stuff.

C: Fun stuff!

Sam and Dean and Andy drive over to the bridge in the vision, and Sam tells Dean to stay back, and Dean's like, "Yeah, good call, I don't really want to be mind-controlled anymore." And Sam pulls out two guns and starts walking, but Andy stops him and says, “I'm coming with you.” And Sam says, “Andy, no,” like an idiot. Like, you'd think that, if your vision is "a woman is mind-controlled to death," you'd want someone to mind-control her to not die [laughs] with you-

G: Yeah.

C: - but I guess he just wants to keep Andy out of it.

Andy says that “If it's Tracy out there, then I'm coming.”

-

G: Okay, so in the car, Tracy and Weber are still there. And it is the beginnings of a rape scene. I'm just not gonna elaborate because I don't wanna, but that is what's happening.

C: Yeah.

G: And in the middle of it, he tells her that, like, "After all this is over, you go jump off that dam!"

Sam comes in, and Weber, like, threatens him with his echo voice, but Sam, of course, unfazed, fucking slaps him. Good for him. And Andy pulls- Andy is on the other side of the car and gets Tracy out. Sam takes Weber out of the car as well, and Andy comes around and starts punching and kicking this guy. He's like, "I will kill you! I'm gonna kill you!" and Sam tries to stop him.

C: Boo.

G: Prior to Andy kicking the shit out of this guy, Sam actually tapes his mouth closed because, you know, verbal cues is how they control people. So, when the next thing happens, which is Weber looks intently at Tracy and Tracy, like, picks up a stick and fucking hits Sam in the head, it's a surprise. Because, like, oh my god, this guy can mind control even without verbal cues. Weber stands up, pulls the duct tape off his mouth, and Andy asks him, “How did you do that?” Weber says, “You just gotta practice, bro.” And I guess what I'm wondering here is, like, how would Sam practice his skills? [C laughs]

C: Um, he can't.

G: Like- [laughing] he literally can't. He doesn't know how to make it better. He doesn't know how to make his visions more accurate. And I was like, "Well, that's a bummer that all of these people can practice their powers, and Sam's just like, 'I'm just sitting here,'" you know?

C: Lily can't really practice her powers either.

G: Yeah! Yeah. Do you know what Jake's powers is?

C: Super strength, right?

G: Super strength, okay. So we got super strength, we get telekinesis, we get mind control, we get "just fucking kill people like, with a touch," and then we get death visions. At least Lily's power can be a weapon.

C: Yeah.

G: Like, you know. Sam's powers really are just "Well, people are gonna die around me [C laughs] and if I can or cannot stop them, then, you know, that's gonna be my problem."

C: Yeah. Sam really got the worst power. I can't believe Lucifer like, looked at this, like, group of children, and was like, "I don't want the death touch one. I want the one who gets migraines."

G: The Lucifer thing, I don't think is-

C: Related?

G: Yeah, I don't think- I think it's separate from the- what do you call these kids? [overlapping] Psychic power kids? Yeah. I think it's separate, because the Lucifer thing is more a "Mary and John were destined together to produce viable offspring" type of situation.

C: Yeah.

G: Which also sucks, but.

C: Well, then, what was Azazel's goal in feeding everyone demon blood?

G: I have no fucking idea.

C: Like, for fun? For funsies?

G: [laughs] Yeah. He was just like, fucking Battle Royale-ing these kids for funsies. [C laughs] I guess we'll figure out later on, maybe I'm misremembering.

C: Yeah. Also, you didn't mention that when Tracy was attacking Sam with a stick, Andy uses his powers to tell her to stop.

G: Yeah. At first he says, like, “Stop,” like, normally, and then when it doesn't work, he tells her “Stop it," using her [laughs] as transcript says, "demonic echo voice" [C laughs], which I love.

Anyway, Andy was about to attack Weber when Weber says, "If you don't stop doing that, Tracy's gonna do a little flying." And we turn around, and Tracy is standing on the edge of the dam. And Andy and Weber start talking, you know, like, actual exposition talking. And Weber says that the reason why he is trying to kill Stacy- no that's not her name. [both laugh] Why he tried to kill Tracy is because she's trying to come in between them. And he says, “She's garbage!” and I was like, “Oh my god, this guy's a fucking woman hater,” and then he says, "All of them," and I was like, “Okay, he hates everyone equally.” [C laughs] [laughing] At least this guy said "Women's rights. Women deserve to be hated as much as I hate other people."

C: I mean, I think that him being a serial rapist makes him a woman hater, though.

G: This guy doesn't get any passes.

And Andy says, like, "Are you really this stupid? You learn you got a twin, like, you call me up, you buy me a drink. You don't start killing people!" And then, this is the reveal. I think this is like, the most important part of the episode. Which is that Weber reveals that "he didn't want me to talk to you," and Andy asks, "Who's he?" And Weber reveals that Yellow-Eyes has been talking to him. Dun-dun-dun!

Yellow-Eyes has been talking to him in his dreams, saying that he's special and he's got big plans for him and for the both of them, and that he told him that he has a brother, Andy.

C: Dean starts hiding behind a tree and aiming a sniper at Ansem. And Andy continues, asking, like, "Why did you kill our mom, and why did you kill Dr. Jennings?" And Ansem says, “Because they split us up. They've ruined our lives, Andy. We could have been together this whole time, instead of alone. I couldn't let them do that. I couldn't let them get away with that. No.” I- I don't really understand Ansem, at all.

G: Yeah.

C: Like, why- what is his deal? What are his motives?

G: I guess we're supposed to feel here that Yellow-Eyes has been feeding him, like, shit, I guess.

C: Yeah.

G: He is like- I think one of the reasons why I wasn't compelled by this episode was because the villain, i.e. Weber, is just- he's not compelling. Like, he doesn't make that much sense.

C: Yeah. He's just like, cartoonishly evil.

G: Yeah, he's like, evil to a-

C: Everything he says is laughable because it makes no sense.

G: Yeah, which is like- I think the episode tries to acknowledge that by Andy saying, "Are you stupid? Are you really this stupid?" But still, even if you acknowledge it like that, like, it's still stupid! Like, his motives are still stupid, you know.

C: Yeah. Right, because I feel like if we got a little bit more of his childhood, like, maybe if he was abused or like, horrifically lonely, then I would get why he's trying so hard to have Andy as his brother and like, try to exert control over him, but like, we have nothing. Like, who cares if you have a twin? If I heard I had a twin, I would just go to sleep. Who cares? [laughs]

G: His backstory is that he asked his mommy for like, "Can I have a younger brother?" and the mom was like, "No." [both laughing] And then he was like, "I'm going to be evil for the rest of my fucking life."

C: Soo true.

G: Just get a dog, dude.

-

C: Ansem sees Dean. He says, “I see you. Bye-bye.” And apparently the bye-bye was enough of a demonic echo command to prompt Dean to try to kill himself. "Bye-bye" is not specific, but alright.

G: I mean, he can like, mind control without using his voice, you know?

C: Yeah, that's true, that's true. So he was thinking-

G: And also, like, does he have magic hearing abilities now too? Like, why can he hear Dean?

C: I don't know. Maybe Dean just stepped on a really loud twig, but it wasn't important to his journey. [both laugh]

Dean's about to shoot himself, Tracy is crying and about to die. And then we hear a gunshot. And it's- Andy has shot Ansem in the back, and Ansem is dead.

G: Oh, just to clarify, Ansem is Weber, because we're using different names. Yeah.

Anyway, it's morning now, and we're still at the bridge, and Andy is talking to some police officers, and he's telling them that "Oh, Weber shot himself, and you all saw it happen" - you know, demonic echo-style. And the policemen are like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Sam and Dean are looking at him. Sam says, “Oh, he's getting better at it already.” Which like, I don't know. I don't know if we see- like, I don't know what we see of Andy's powers again, but I hope the next time we see him- okay, do you hope that the next time we see him, he can mind-control without words? Because that means he's been mind-controlling more and more, right?

C: He's practicing, right?

G: Yeah. And maybe that's not a good thing. Yeah. So maybe the next time we see him, his powers should be the same, so that's evidence that he learned his lesson of like, maybe his powers are not for good sometimes. [laughing] Wow. Hashtag nuance! [laughing] Is that what this is? Anyway-

C: Not on Supernatural. [G laughs]

G: As Andy keeps on walking towards Sam and Dean, he walks past Tracy, who avoids his eyes. And he tells this to Sam and Dean, that she won't even look at him.

C: And we're supposed to feel bad for Andy in this situation, and, like, not that much for Tracy, which pisses me off soo fucking much.

G: Yeah. Yeah. And he says that the reason must be because he has never used her powers with her before, but because he did last night, she's scared of him now.

Anyway, Sam says, "Well we should be going" - [laughing] doesn't even acknowledge that at fucking all. He's like, "Okay, cool, dude. We need to go now." And he hands him the smallest piece of paper possible, literally this piece of paper is fucking tiny, and he's like, "I wrote my cell phone number there. You don't have to be alone in this, alright? If anything comes up, just call me." Andy asks what he's supposed to do now, and Dean says, "You be good, Andy. Or we'll be back."

C: [laughs] Jesus Christ, Dean.

G: What a threat! And like, the whole episode he was like, "Oh, Andy is fine, Andy is good, like it's blah blah blah." And now he's like, "If you-"

C: [laughs] "I'm gonna fucking kill you."

G: "If you misstep in one direction- in one wrong direction, you're fucking dead, bro." And then, as Sam and Dean walk away, Sam says, “I was right, wasn't I? That he was a killer.” Dean says, “He's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved my life.”

C: She's not his girlfriend, and she has a name. I hope Dean dies, and I hope everyone who wrote this episode dies.

G: Sam says, "Well, he wasted somebody still." Dean says, “Yeah, but he was pushed into it.” And Sam says, "Maybe that's what the demon is doing. Pushing us into things. Max Miiller was pushed. I was pushed by Jessica's death." Dean like, gets fed up, asks what the point of all this is. Sam says, “Right circumstances, everyone is capable of murder. Everyone.” Sam continues on, saying that he heard Dean say to Andy when Andy forced him to tell the truth that he's just as scared of all this as Sam is. And Dean's like, "That was mind control! It's like being roofied! It doesn't count!" Poor Dean.

C: Yeah, okay, but also- Do you think Dean's been roofied? Like, what is the point of this line?

G: Oh, it's like, heavily implied- like, there's like, a story later on in the show where he gets drugged-

C: Oh, right, in the Claire sex trafficking episode, right?

G: Yeah.

C: Yeah.

G: I'm not sure if, like, he does get drugged or he was threated to get drugged in that story, but, yeah.

C: I mean, it's sad that he's making jokes about it. Sorry, dude.

G: Yeah. Sorry, dude.

Dean continues on that they're just gonna find the "evil son of a bitch" and kill it. And Ellen rings them up and they go to the Roadhouse.

-

C: I'm so- I don't know where to talk about how pissed off I am about the Tracy storyline or if it even should be in the episode, but I feel like this is the last place that I can. I don't know. What should I do?

G: You go do it.

C: Okay. I guess there's a lot of things that I am upset about with how they handled Tracy's storyline. It's- I don't get the point of the rape scene, it just feels, like, excessive, exploitative tragedy porn, especially with the fact that she's crying the whole time when everyone else was placid, and Ansem just keeps talking, and he's like, forcing her to unbutton her clothes and tells her to go slower for him. Like, it's just- it's so much detail, and like, they like, really make it clear how much she's being violated, and I don't think it's necessarily bad to be like, "this is a bad thing that's happening to her," because it is, but I think the point when you do something like that is that you need that character to have some amount of depth beyond just being a victim. The scene when Ansem and Andy are fighting and basically he's like, dangling Tracy in front of Andy like a toy, going like, "Oh, if you don't do what I want, like, I'll drop her!" is so- just the image of these two brothers like, fighting over this completely helpless girl who's like, half-undressed and is about to die is like, really fucking awful to look at. And it's just- and also, like, the very last scene with her, where she's like, just crying in her blankets. Because the way Supernatural works as the show without nuance where everyone looks into the camera and states the scenes- or states the themes- is that the characters that are done justice, I think, are the characters who get to monologue a bit about how they feel. Like, that's my standard of whether or not Supernatural views a character as a person. And the fact that Andy gets the ending monologue about how sad he is that his ex doesn't like him anymore because she almost got raped by his brother, and he has the powers that his brother has, and not like, her at all getting to talk about her feelings, or like, do anything, is just like, really, really disgusting to me, and I hope that Edlund has a really bad life. Yeah, [laughs] I guess that's all of it.

G: I think you can make the argument that like, it's bad because it's supposed to be bad, but like, it doesn't have to be that gratuitous, you know?

C: Yeah. And she still could have gotten to be a character.

G: Yeah. Like, the first part of your statement is like, like, yeah, Weber is supposed to be bad, that's why the whole scene was bad, etc. The part that's like, more egregious is the second part, which is that they don't provide any character traits to Tracy other than, you know, she's a victim of this terrible thing that happens to her, and also like, at the end you're you're supposed to feel bad for Andy specifically, instead of her, who just went through this horrific thing, so yeah.

-

C: Okay, so we're back at the Roadhouse now. Sam and Dean are at the bar, Ellen’s talking to them. Jo's about to come up to them, but Ellen sends her off to pick up another case of beer, [laughing] probably 'cause she wants to keep Jo away from Dean? Is that the-

G: No! She just doesn't want Jo to listen to the case.

C: Okay, that makes more sense, but I didn't get that. Okay. So Ellen questions about the events of their last hunt, and Dean says that he is not gonna tell her because it's a family thing. And Ellen says, “Not anymore,” and says that she got all of Ash’s research, and, "So you guys think that the demon was the one who burned down Andy's house, and also your house?" Sam says, “Yeah, we think so,” and Dean's trying to hold him back from saying any more information while Sam seems down to collab with Ellen. Ellen asks why, and Dean says, “None of your business.” [both laugh] And Ellen says, "Mind your tongue with me, boy." And she says, “This isn't just your war. This is war. Something big and bad's coming, and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. At best, all we got is us, together. No secrets or half-truths here.” So I guess it's nice that they're setting up the season as like, this war where they have these allies, but I don't know if that is what shakes out. I guess we'll see. So Sam finally reveals that there's people out there like Andy Gallagher, and then he makes a little face and he says, “Like me.” He says, “We all have some kind of ability, a psychic ability. I have visions. It's different for everybody. And the demon said that he had plans for people like us, but he doesn't know what the plans are.” Ellen immediately jumps to “Are these psychics out there dangerous?” and Dean’s like, “No, not all of them!” [both laugh] and Sam says, “Some are. Some are very dangerous.”

Man. Sam is always the one more willing to give like, monsters the benefit of the doubt until they look a little bit like Sam mirrors and then he's like, "Go fucking kill them. Do it! Do it!"

G: [laughs] Yeah.

C: So Sam says that the pattern isn't actually always there because Ansem never had a housefire when he was a child; there was nothing out of the ordinary. So Ellen says, “Okay, so if there's others like him, then there'd be nothing in the system. We wouldn't be able to track all of them down.” And Dean says, “So who knows how many of them are really out there?” Jo shows up again, and Ellen says, “You'd better break out the whiskey instead.” And the episode ends.

-

G: I love the pose that Jo makes at the end of this episode. Like, she puts her hands on the back of her hips like an old lady, you know? [laughs] And I was like, "Yes, Jo! Arthritis at age 21 rights!" [C laughs]

Anyway, what do you think about this one?

C: I hated it. What did you think?

G: I didn't like it, but I don't think I hated it. Like, I just watched it, and I was like, "Yeah, sure I'm watching an episode of Supernatural," you know?

C: Yeah.

G: Yeah. I don't really have anything else to say. [laughs]

C: Yeah.

G: Your Best Line/Worst Line. What's your best line?

C: I think I kind of liked Dean's whole truth spell moment where he says, yeah, "He thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself because you're all part of something that's terrible, and I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right." Like, sorry, bro. Sorry all of you.

G: Yeah. I like the- when Sam says, like, "Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone. You know, maybe that's what the demons doing. Pushing us. Finding ways to break us." It's just like, the concept that Sam's life is this one long manipulation to making him worse and worse and worse and worse.

C: Yeah.

G: And then, you know? He still ends up the way he ends up.

C: Yeah.

G: It's like, "Well, what a sweet, sweet lad." Worst line?

C: I mean, probably just anything from the rape scene, but I don't really want to repeat it.

G: or slyness.

G: I guess like, I didn't like Andy and Weber's conversation about- like, their entire conversation is so weird. Like, it doesn't make any sense. Like, the fact that he is killing Tracy for a romantic interest is so fucking funny to me [laughs] because like, it's basically what happens with Dean and Ruby, right? Like, you know.

C: Right.

G: Yeah. And it's like, [laughing] I feel like Dean uninhibited would have done the same thing with Ruby. And it's- I don't know. Like I said, I don't think they intentionally paralleled Weber with Dean, but it did happen, end up happening.

C: Mm.

G: Not the line that I hate necessarily, but it's just a line that- I don't know. I don't think it's the worst line. I think the worst line is like, similar to yours, but yeah.

Okay, so IMDB rating.

C: Not sure. Because we both did not like this episode-

G: But it is plot-heavy.

C: Yeah, and before I watched it, I had high hopes, because I feel like the general vibe that I got from Tumblr was that it was a good one.

I don't know, I think I'm just gonna go 8.2 just like episodes 2 and 3 of season 2.

G: I'll go 8 point... I feel like it would be higher because people like this episode.

Why? [laughing]

C: Yeah.

G: Why? It's so fucking- like, I guess I like Andy. That is true. He is a chari- he's not actually that charismatic, but he is like, an entertaining character to some degree.

C: He did steal the Impala.

G: Yeah, he stole the Impala.

C: And dated Cas.

G: And he is dating Cas.

So, I'll give this an 8 point... 8.3 just to hedge our bets, as we like to say. [laughs] Let me see. [singing to self] Oh my god!

C: What?

G: It's an 8.5!

C: Ughh. Why?

G: Horrific time that I'm having right now.

C: [groans] Yeah. Me too.

G: Last episode was literally a 7.9? A 7.8?

C: Yeah! It was a 7.9, and it was fine!

G: It was a good episode!

C: Yeah.

G: I'm tired, guys. [both laugh] I'm tired of IMDB lying to us.

C: Yeah.

G: One of these just says, "the ep is entertaining and adds to the plot of Sam's arc." So true.

C: It does add to the Sam's plot arc, correct.

G: This one says "by far my favorite episode."

C: For what?

G: For- "this episode is memorable because of Dean's slapstick comedy while trying not to do what he is told via Andrew's mind control." I do agree, that scene was very funny-

C: Yeah.

G: And I remember it so vividly, like, watching it the first time, I remember it vividly, so like, it must have- like, it sticks to me for a reason, and the reason is because it's an entertaining scene. But like, the rest of the episode doesn't make up for it, I feel.

C: Yeah.

G: Like, doesn't live up to it, you know?

C: Yeah. This one says that they liked the episode because Sam and Dean act like equals because they're like, both watching out for each other in different ways, which I guess is true? Sure. I'll take it.

G: Someone says this is the best psychic kids episode.

C: I- "Nightmare" was better.

G: I think "Nightmare" is very upsetting, so people might be turned off from it, you know?

C: Yeah.

G: This one is also ups-

C: Is also upsetting! Yeah, I found this one more upsetting than "Nightmare." I think it just like, depends on your sensitivities.

G: "Andy is a nice example of how the show refuse to treat all supernatural entities as evil." Eh, whatever, I don't really care. [laughing]

C: Eh. Yeah, whatever, I don't care what any of these people have to say. They're all wrong.

G: To me, Andy is Cas's boyfriend, and that's it! [C laughs]

C: So true.

-

G: I think that's it for this episode of Busty Asian Beauties. Next time, we will be talking about Season 2, Episode 6: "No Exit." Leave us a rating or review wherever you get your podcasts.

C: Follow us on social media! We are on twitter at twitter.com/BeautiesPodcast, and on Tumblr at bustyasianbeautiespod.tumblr.com. Our official tag is #BABPod, B-A-B-POD, and thank you to everyone who's donated to our Ko-Fi at ko-fi.com/bustyasianbeautiespod.

G: You can email us any feedback, comments, or inquiries at bustyasianbeautiespod@gmail.com. See you guys next time! [both] Bye!

[guitar music]

[watermelonlipstick]

Nerves (Request)

This was my first request, and it was fun to write! Anon wanted a reader around Sam’s age whose nerves Dean mistakes for fear until he confronts her about them. Thanks for reading, and of course I would love any advice or critiques!! If you have a request, drop it in my inbox and I’ll definitely write it if I feel like I can do it justice. Just a little bit of weekend fluff. 

Title: Nerves

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Word Count: 2715

Summary: When helping Sam’s college friend, the reader, Dean can’t figure out why she’s so scared of him. 

gif from forgetthisbull

“Dude, Dean, I’m serious. Don’t be a fucking creep to her,” Sam said, shutting the door to the Impala and following his brother into a greasy spoon called Little Bavaria with white scalloped curtains.  

“Dude, Dean, I’m serious,” Dean mimicked in a nasal sing-song. “And when am I ever a creep?”

Sam glared at Dean in exasperation. “Please? Just please? Can I have one friend you don’t hit on?”

“Fine! Drop it!” Dean snapped, yanking open the door and pulling his face immediately into a saccharine smile for the rosy-cheeked grandma-type standing behind a cash register that could not have been made after 1983.

“Thank you,” Sam said, obviously relieved. He scanned the room before seeing her sitting in a back booth.

You waved excitedly to Sam as he walked toward you, looking like a sun-kissed and confident man rather than the floppy haired boy you remembered.

As the brothers made their way over to you, a waitress dropped off plasticized menus and glasses of water. Sam waited for you to stand up before wrapping you in a bear hug. He smelled clean and familiar in a way that made you feel slightly lighter immediately.

“I like the new hair, it looks good on you,” he said, charming as ever.

You reflexively touched your head. “Oh! Right, I forgot that was after college. You look great!”

Sam’s smile was easy and wide as he turned to Dean. “This is my brother Dean.”

Dean raised a few fingers in a weak wave, decidedly not giving you anything Sam could construe as bedroom eyes or a flirtatious smirk. “Nice to meet you. Sorry it isn’t under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, well,” you trailed off.

“Should we sit?” Sam asked, graciously offering you an out.

After the requisite coffees and Dutch babies were ordered, Sam looked across the table angelically. “I’m really sorry this is happening,” he said, his voice smooth and soothing.  It was all Dean could do not to roll his eyes, one arm slung across the booth behind Sam as he slouched back. He tried for the appearance of nonplussed neutrality. “If it’s okay with you, I think you should stick around us until we figure this out. I don’t want to leave you alone in that house,” Sam urged.

You kept the relief off your face better than you’d expected you would. You were trying to play it cool in front of Sam and his hopelessly cute older brother, but you were scared enough of going back your new house that you just repeated what they ordered, unable to focus even on the menu. As you had been doing for the last day and a half since you called, you thanked God for the small instinct to call Sam. Sam, who you hadn’t seen in a few years but was the least judgmental person you’d known in school. Somehow you knew even if he thought you were crazy he would come anyway. Now he was here, bigger and looser than you’d remembered, not making fun of or pitying the girl who thought her house was haunted, and you felt like you could take a deep breath for the first time in weeks. In a weaker moment you might’ve cried, and for that reason it was better that Sam had brought his brother. It might not have been so embarrassing to break down with an old friend, but you couldn’t ugly-cry in front of the Rebel Without A Cause at the table, all pillowy lips and long eyelashes. Distractedly you tried to remember if Dean looked this good in the two or three pictures Sam had scotch-taped to his dorm wall but couldn’t call them up. You channeled all the chill-girl energy you could muster and shrugged. “If you think that’s better, I can.”

“I do, yeah. It’s just that we don’t know what’s going on yet,” Sam offered. “If you need to get some stuff from your place, we can come with you. Right, Dean?”

“Sure,” Dean said, his tone clipped and his lips pressed tight. “Whatever Sammy wants.”

You heard a thump under the table and Dean smiled slightly more reassuringly.

Over breakfast Sam had about a hundred questions about everything you’d been up to lately. He seemed genuinely interested as you told him about the new job you’d moved here for, wanting to know more about the goofy drama between your coworkers and odd clients as though it was fascinating. You’d forgotten how much you desperately missed him until you saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and heard his laugh twinkle out over the coffee steam and powdered sugar. All the while, Dean seemed to be boring into you with those green eyes, sometimes adding a meaningless trite comment or chuckle but not genuinely engaging. You tried only partly successfully to ignore him, focusing on Sam and your food and how nice it was to feel safe.

3 cups of weak coffee after you’d finished eating, knowing you’d be jittery but not caring from the giddiness of the reunion, Dean took out his wallet and threw about double what you’d guessed the tab might be down in cash. “Should we go get your stuff?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you answered, taking one last sip before getting up from the table. A look you couldn’t decipher passed between Sam and Dean so quickly that you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring right at them. You followed the boys out of the restaurant, feeling a very odd and fleeting moment of jealousy when Dean thanked and winked at the older woman behind the cash register, giving her a slow languid smile like warm honey. He was so pretty. As quickly as the thought had come over you, it was replaced with disgust at yourself. At a time like this, when your whole world was in chaos, you were worried about some hot guy—who clearly wasn’t into you from the way he was acting—instead of your own safety. You were still cursing yourself mentally when you slid into the back of the gigantic black car they’d arrived in.

Sam’s friend was cute. Like, really cute. Beautiful, even, and Dean was beyond annoyed that this was the one time he promised Sam he wouldn’t hit on one of his friends. Not that it seemed to matter, because she only had eyes for Sam. It was like she melted when she saw him, staring only straight at his kid brother all through the time they stayed at the breakfast spot. If Dean was being honest with himself, he was more than a little hurt, not used to being looked at with anything less than adoration by the women he wanted. What added even more salt to the wound than the way she seemed so infatuated with Sam was the way that she looked when she saw Dean. Dean peddled in monsters and the looks of attractive women, and he knew fear when he saw it. He’d spent the rest of breakfast with Sam’s comment about him being a creep running through his mind on a loop, careful not to lean too close into her or say anything less than strictly G-rated. Unfortunately, that limited him more severely than he realized it would.

When she got into the back of the Impala, she sat straight up like she was in a cotillion class, not comfortable enough even to sit normally in his car. Was Sam right? Was he a creep? Dean suddenly felt weird and predatory, like maybe the blood and guts of hunting was changing him in some irreparable way that people could sense. He tried to smile agreeably the way Sam did up at her in the rearview mirror and saw a shark reflected back at him. Looking quickly away, Dean put both hands on the wheel the way he thought someone non-threatening would.

It didn’t help that Sam thought something was off, which meant Dean wasn’t pulling off his act and maybe couldn’t even pretend like he wasn’t the kind of person who makes a beautiful girl’s eyes go wide in fear. Each time Sam had side-eyed or kicked him under the table, the point was re-emphasized. Dean was desperate to relax but worried he’d freak this poor girl out somehow, so he kept himself tightly wound as he took directions to her house.

By the time they’d finally figured out the problem—not, as you thought, that your house was haunted but that a coworker was in fact a witch trying to torment you—the three of you had gotten into a semi-comfortable rhythm. You were crashing on the couch in their motel room, carrying your toiletries into and out of the bathroom every morning like you were at sleepaway camp and trying to keep your clothes as wrinkle-free as possible while living out of a suitcase. Some parts of it were so nice; you were still just as grateful for the protection you felt as you had been in that café, and you had forgotten how comforting it was just to know there was someone else around. Other parts, however, were not. You hadn’t slept on a couch, let alone a scratchy-creaky motel one, for so many days since college, and you were remembering why. On top of that, Dean was so compelling that it felt like you expended half of your energy each day just trying to keep yourself from staring at him.

And naturally, the more you got to know him the harder it got. He was not only the pretty boy that was obvious from the first time you met, but also so kind and respectful, seeming to be very aware of the potential discomfort of immediately sleeping in the same room as a strange man and giving you a wide berth for as much privacy as possible. He even picked up coffee in the mornings before you and Sam got up, that first day getting a black coffee, a nonfat latte, and ‘whatever the coffee guy said was most popular’ because he didn’t know what you’d like. If anything, it felt almost as though he was being a bit too gentle, and you wondered if Sam had told Dean you were some kind of fragile and delicate bird that startled easily. When you’d asked Sam about it after a couple days, he just shrugged and said he hadn’t really told Dean much other than some stories from college. You decided to drop it. Maybe Dean was just like this, which made it all the harder not to develop the kind of crippling, blushing, oh-my-god-is-he-going-to-sit-next-to-me crush you hadn’t felt since middle school.

When the coworker had been ‘taken care of’—a careful answer from Dean that you chose not to pursue—you were left feeling unmoored. It wasn’t like you could go back to the now-destroyed house, or even imagine how you’d explain away the chaos of the last couple weeks to the few people you knew here. Sam seemed to pick up on it intuitively, and offered for you to come along with him and his brother until you figured out what you were going to do next. Like it had when he had driven across the country and tossed you the last life raft over the formica table at Little Bavaria, it felt like Sam was saving you. He seemed excited when you said you would, and was out grabbing sandwiches for the road while you and Dean packed up the motel room when Dean asked if he could borrow you for a minute.

You were so embarrassed at the small, cartoonish voice that agreed, sitting on the side of the bed while Dean draped himself effortlessly—God, how could he look so cool even just sitting down—over the arm of the sofa.

“I, uh, if you’re going to come on the road with us I think we should talk,” he started. Your pulse started thumping in your chest and you hoped you weren’t blushing as you raised your eyebrows, signaling for him to continue. Dean cleared his throat and fiddled with his ring before continuing. “Listen, I don’t know how much Sam told you before we met, or whatever, but I swear I’m really not that bad.”

You’d been focusing so hard on not looking desperately infatuated that you weren’t able to keep the surprise off your face. “Bad? Of course not, you’ve been amazing. You and Sam saved my life. I’m so grateful,” you sputtered.

“Right,” Dean said, looking slightly confused. “Then I’m sorry if I did something maybe, because I don’t want you to think I’m some, like, animal—”

You cut him off. “Dean, you’ve been unbelievably sweet, way above and beyond what you needed to do. I’ve felt so safe the entire time I’ve been with you guys, and now you’re letting me stay with you for even longer; I don’t know how I can repay you, seriously.”

Dean looked up at you, his confusion tinged around the edges of his eyes with something wounded. “Then why are you so scared of me? You jump whenever I come in the room, you only look at Sam, you don’t even slouch when I’m around. I know I can’t do Sam’s puppy dog eyes act, but come on, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You act like you’re waiting for me to sock you.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, realizing you didn’t know what to say. It was hard enough to think with Dean’s eyelashes sweeping over his cheekbones like the most delicious metronome you’d ever seen, let alone process what he was saying. “I—Dean, I’m not scared of you,” you finally squeaked. His face didn’t change with the spark of recognition that would’ve allowed you to stop there with a soggy handful of dignity left, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself to continue. “God, this is so embarrassing,” you murmured under your breath. “Okay,” you started, hoping your voice sounded resolute and firm. “I mean, it’s just that you’re so cute, and cool, and self-assured, and I was worried I was going to do something weird or whatever, and now I guess I have anyway. I’m truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or especially feel like I wasn’t anything other than thankful for you and everything you’ve done. I’ll try to act like less of a total freak, I promise.” 

You winced, waiting for the inevitable pity from this gorgeous man who must hear these proclamations from every woman he meets. Instead, Dean chuckled, which was maybe even worse. Pity you were ready for, could swallow and heal your ego from in private, but open ridicule was too much.

“Okay, well, that was fun. Sorry,” you said, smacking the tops of your legs and getting up from the bed. Dean grabbed one of your wrists as he pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes.

“No, wait, sit down,” he said, smiling.

You obeyed, feeling a little lump of embarrassed tears forming in your throat but not seeing a way to extricate yourself from the room gracefully. Dean’s callused thumb swiped affectionately across the back of your hand.

“That is way better than what I thought,” he insisted.  “Sam made a big deal about how I shouldn’t act like a creep to you, and it got in my head. I thought I was coming off as a total perv or something.”

His eyes locked you in like quicksand before you could answer, not pitying or withering at all as you’d thought, just soft and tender and the impossible green of a perfect matcha. “No, I’m the perv here,” you offered, attempting to make light of your shyness.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart,” Dean purred. Heat swelled up into your cheeks, and Dean brought your hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the back of your hand as he gazed up at you.

As you were desperately scrolling through the Rolodex in your mind for something witty to say, Sam opened the door to the motel room. You were equally and fiercely relieved and stymied as his hulking frame filled the doorway, grabbing the duffel he’d left on the tile. “You guys ready?” he asked, his smile bright and carefree.

Dean dropped your wrist and winked at you as he got up from the couch unhurriedly. “More than ready, Sammy. Let’s hit the road.”

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass, @akshi8278​, @dream-believe-and-love​

[superfanficnatural]

Reunion

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Male!Reader

Summary: This is a request from @aflamboyanceofgays​, “Virginity loss, cut off by John, meet up many years later at a bar, reader thinks Dean is just straight and before was just a “phase” so he accepts the invite to the bunker but doesn’t make a move on him, Dean’s feelings come back stronger and stronger and after a few nights at the bunker, he “goes in for the kill” as I would like to say it.” I hope I wrote this to your likings! 

A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this, there is a lot of cuteness in this but also some good ol’ smut. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: Angst, Heavy Fluff, Smut, NSFW 18+, Fingering, Oral Receiving (Male), Anal Sex, Cute Sex, Rough Sex, Swallowing, Rimming, Marking, again, some others that I can’t think of.

Italics are thoughts

Gif isn’t mine

Dean Winchester, the boy who had stolen your heart the moment you laid eyes on him. Spiky brown hair, a goofy yet perfect smile, green eyes that you lost yourself in every single time you looked into them. You were only about 15 when you had initially met, Dean being 16. Your parents had died during a hunt and John took you under his wing, nurturing you as a father, but if you were honest, he was more like a drill sergeant. You knew that you liked Dean, more than a friendly way; but you didn’t know if he liked boys, so you kept it quiet, admiring and daydreaming about him from a distance. 

Two Years Later

“Come on, Y/N! What’s the worst that could happen?” Dean asked, reaching out his hand, silently asking you to take it and go with him. John had been out for a hunt for the past few days and Sammy had just fallen asleep. He wanted to go out and get some drinks, then get drunk together.

“Dean, we don’t know when John is gonna be back, plus, we aren’t even old enough to buy alcohol yet!” you exclaimed, nervous.

“It’s fine, he’s not going to be back until at least tomorrow, and about that,” he reached into his pocket, flashing an ID, “Got myself a fake ID, says I’m 21.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Oh my god, Dean, you didn’t.”

“Indeed, I did. Now come on, don’t you want to have some fun and spend some time with me?” he asked with a soft and pleading look.

You could never say no to him, “Fine, let’s get going then.”

You grabbed his extended hand and felt electricity course through your veins. The smile you returned made his grow bigger, pulling you out of the hotel room and bringing you along to the drug store a block away.

“Alright, just wait out here, I’ll get us the good stuff,” he promised, letting go of your hand and entering the store. You had already begun to miss the warmth his hand provided. After a few minutes, he came back out with a black bag and what seemed like a really big bottle of alcohol inside.

He flashed you a cheeky grin, “Got us some whiskey.”

You smiled and asked, “Where are we going to drink it?”

“Back in the hotel room, duh,” he replied, making a silly face.

You chuckled and walked side by side with him back to the motel room. Opening the door and walking inside, you noticed Sammy still sleeping peacefully on his bed in the far end of the room, bringing a smile to your face. That kid was always such a heavy sleeper, not used to the hunter sleeping schedule just yet. Sitting down at the table next to the door with Dean, he tossed the bag aside and pulled out the bottle, getting up and moving over to John’s extra duffel he left behind, pulling out two glasses for the both of you.

“You really came prepared, didn’t you?” you asked, amused.

He shrugged with a smile, “Saw them sitting there yesterday, gave me the idea.”

He sat back down and poured the both of you a drink, clinking your glasses together you took a sip.

“Jesus, this ain’t too bad,” you said with a slight grimace on your face.

Dean recoiled, “Holy hell this shit is strong!” with a huge cringe, coaxing a laugh out of you. 

“How the hell can you drink it so easily?” he asked, exasperated.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s pretty strong but I guess I can just handle it easier.”

He looked a bit jealous and you chuckled, “Aw, is little Bean mad that I’m better than him at something?” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, a slight smile on his face from the nickname you gave him.

The both of you continued drinking, reaching the end of your second glass, you were very close to being very drunk, while Dean had finished his as well with a slight sway to his head. 

“You doing alright over there?” you asked, trying to hold back your laughter.

“I’m doing perfectly fine,” he slurred, “Let’s play a game, truth or dare.”

You smirked, “Why not? Who starts?”

“I’ll go first, truth or dare?”

You thought for a second, “Dare.”

He smiled, “I dare you to take another sip of the whiskey.”

Chuckling, “That’s it? You suck at this game Winchester.”

“Just shut up and do it,” he replied, face falling slightly.

You grabbed the whiskey by the bottle and took a nice long sip, the burn in your throat providing warmth to the rest of your body.

“Alright my turn, truth or dare?”

“Hmm, no, you said it yourself, that dare sucked, so I’m asking again.”

“Fine, truth this time,” you replied, amused.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” he asked, a slightly hopeful look on his face.

Your face went pale and your breathing ceased, staring at him like a deer in headlights. He seemed like he was about to say something but you cut him off before he could utter a word.

“Um, I- its- I don’t-” you were a stuttering mess.

“Y/N, it’s ok, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he replied, his face soft and full of concern.

“No, you asked, so I gotta answer,” you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, meeting his gaze. This was it, now or never. “My crush is...you, Dean.”

His eyes impossibly widened, “W-what? Stop messing around, Y/N.”

“I’m not... I’m not kidding,” you were reluctant to admit, breaking your gaze and looking anywhere but at him, a huge blush on your face.

“Ask me.”

“W-what do you mean?” you questioned, still looking at the floor.

“Truth or dare, ask me,” he replied shakily.

“T-truth or d-dare.”

“Dare.”

“I...” you started, wondering if you should really do what your heart wanted. Ultimately your curiosity, along with the help of the alcohol gave you the push you needed., “I dare you to... to kiss me.”

You couldn’t see his reaction, your eyes still focusing on the glass in front of you but you knew he probably had disgust written all over his face. However, before you could take it back, you saw him get up and slowly walk over to you. You picked up your gaze to see that he had a nervous look, repulsion nowhere to be found. He placed his hands on each armrest, leaning down to level his face with yours. You were holding your breath in anticipation as to what he would do. You took the opportunity of your close proximity to admire his facial features, freckles dusted across his cheeks, his green eyes shining as bright as ever. Glancing down at his lips, he did the same and you saw him lick his perfect plump ones, a shot of arousal flowing through you. He started to slowly lean in, millimeters away from your face. Pausing with nothing but a hair between the two of you, he pushed in the remaining space and connected your lips. 

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, you felt exhilarated yet relaxed, giddy yet comfortable, shocked yet contempt. The suction between your lips was so perfect that you felt like they fit together perfectly, like pieces to a puzzle. So many thoughts were running through your mind, but the feel of his lips pushing against yours effectively wiped them all away, your mind blank and only able to focus on him. You reached your hands up to cup the sides of his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He smiled into the kiss, prompting you to do the same. He pulled away after a few minutes to catch his breath, while you were panting like a madman, the excitement and adrenaline from the kiss increasing your heart rate. 

“That was...”

“Freaking awesome,” he finished, a bright smile on his face.

You were still just barely separated, but you pulled him back to you, desperate to feel his lips again. What started off as a hesitant and small kiss, turned into a heated and passionate one, moaning into his mouth, he slipped his tongue in between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and groaning at your taste. He pulled away and lifted you from the seat, ripping your shirt off and letting out a low grumble from deep in his throat, reaching down and sucking on your nipple greedily. You let out an audible gasp, the pleasure foreign yet much appreciated. You were starting to get impatient, reaching down and tugging at his shirt up, trying to get it off. He pulled away from your nipple with a ‘pop’ sound and smirked, slowly taking off his shirt so you could see his muscles rippling with the action. You moaned appreciatively, his abs and chest the sexiest thing you had ever laid eyes on. He reached back out to you and grabbed you by the hips, roughly pulling you into him, your hands falling on his strong chest. He started sucking hickeys on your neck while unbuckling your belt. Throwing your head back, you let yourself get lost in the pleasure that he was providing with his lips. He sucked hard, attacking your skin with his tongue and teeth, coaxing small moans to escape your throat.

“Don’t be too loud, Sammy is asleep,” he whispered in your ear, biting the lobe.

You nodded, unable to open your mouth for if you did, you definitely would have made a noise loud enough to wake him up. He unbuckled your belt and unzipped your jeans, pulling them along with your briefs off, dropping to the floor. He ceased his actions and lowered his gaze to your throbbing member, poking him in the thigh. 

“Fuck you are so hot, Y/N,” he breathed.

You reached out and unbuckled his belt as well, wanting to mark him just as much as he marked you, forcing blissful moans to escape him, spurring you on. Releasing him from the confines of his jeans, you pulled them down to see that he was going commando. Normally, you would have made fun of him for it, but right now all it did was serve to arouse you even further. His cock stood proudly, taunting you to play with it. 

You licked your lips and began to get on your knees but was stopped by Dean, “No, Y/N. I want to be inside you, we have time for that later.”

You nodded and followed him to the bed sitting down on top of it with his figure standing in between your legs. His cock was just in front of you and you couldn’t help yourself, reaching out to grasp it with your hand, you wrapped your mouth around it and started bobbing your head.

“Ngh, fuck, Y/N,” he moaned, hunching over slightly and balancing himself by gripping your hair.

He tasted incredible, his thick cock feeling perfect inside of your mouth. You went faster and faster, taking him all the way which surprised the both of you. He abruptly pulled back, “If you keep doing that then I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s kind of the whole point,” you replied, a smirk on your face.

“Another time,” he dismissed with a smile, pushing you back up the bed and towering over you. He leaned down and connected your lips once again, reaching down with his finger to tease at your rim. You slightly jumped and Dean smiled into the kiss, continuing to please you with his fingers. He attempted to insert a finger, your tight hole offering heavy resistance.

“Wait, here,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it up to your mouth, sticking in his fingers and swirling your tongue around them, looking directly into his green orbs. His eyes darkened and he pulled his fingers away, returning to kiss you while once again teasing your hole. The second he breached you, you tensed up and let out a moan. 

Dean muffled it with the kiss, “Shhhhh, relax, I’m gonna take care of you.”

You felt your body go lax at his words, instantly complying: you trusted him with your life. He slowly continued with his finger while kissing at your neck, whispering loving words in your ear, praising you on how well you were doing. After you got used to the single digit, you bucked into his hand, the intrusion feeling like heaven. He chuckled and added a second finger, scissoring them to open up your hole. You tried to hold in your moan, a small squeak coming out instead.

“Please, Dean, fuck me,” you begged, impatient.

“I don’t want to hurt you baby, I’m not exactly small,” he admitted.

After a few more moments of fingering you, he couldn’t wait much longer so deciding that you were ready, he lined up his cock with your entrance and began to push in. At first you started to tense up once again, feeling the humongous head prodding at your entrance. 

“It’s ok, I’ll be gentle,” he soothed.

You forced yourself to relax and let him in. He was moving painfully slow, his thick member stretching your walls deliciously. Slowly, he started pumping his hips, gradually inching further and further in with each stroke until he bottomed out and the both of you let out low moans. He was pressing right up against your prostate and it was driving you insane.

“Please move, please fuck me, Dean,” you breathed, ragged and huskily.

He lost all control and started thrusting into you, still being careful to not go too fast to hurt you. It felt so good, his constant stimulation of your prostate already having you seconds away from your orgasm, not even touching your cock. As he was thrusting, you wrapped your legs around his waist, silently begging him to go deeper, faster. He responded by picking up the pace slightly, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You were biting your fist and desperately trying not to be too loud, moans spilling from your throat involuntarily. He reached down and started to stroke your painfully throbbing cock, going the same speed as his hips. 

“Fuck, Y/N. Your ass is so goddamn tight, feels so good around my cock, so warm,” he growled, rutting his hips a few times, accurately hitting against your prostate. You couldn’t help yourself and let out a loud moan, instantly looking over to Sammy to see if he woke up. Dean didn’t care at this point, still thrusting into you and stroking your cock. Making sure he was still asleep, you turned back to Dean to see sweat rolling off of his forehead, his hair stuck to it, eyes dark and breathing heavy. The intense look of desire and want in his eyes was what nearly sent you over the edge. He reached out with his free hand and started pinching your nipple, alternating between the two of them. 

The slight pain was the boost that you needed, “Fuck, Dean. I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whined.

“Cum for me, Y/N. You can do it,” he emphasized the last statement by thrusting in harder than before, his cock slamming against your sweet spot. Your breathing cut off and your body went still as your release squirted out of your cock all over his fingers and your stomach. Clenching the muscles in your ass with your release, it triggered Dean’s orgasm as well. Groaning a little too loud, he spilled into you, biting your neck to keep himself from making more noise. You felt rope after rope of warm cum coat your insides, the feeling of it comfortable. He slowly pulled out and gave you another lingering kiss. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, he came over and wiped the cum leaking from your hole affectionately, along with the remainder from his fingers and cock. He dropped the towel before cleaning your stomach, confusing you, but he got on top of you and licked up all the cum, kissing you. You shared the cum between the two of you and you felt your dick twitch at the flavor, your own cum mixing with Dean’s natural taste on a whole different level. He pulled away with a blissed out and completely happy smile that made your heart swell. He climbed into bed with you and just as he was about to turn off the light, John walked in. 

Your heart dropped, and you knew this was it. 

“What the fuck?” he barked, seeing the two of you naked in the same bed.

“Dad, it's not-” Dean started.

“Not what it looks like? Don’t feed me bullshit kid,” he cut him off, “Y/N! Get your fucking clothes on and meet me in the car,” he silently seethed, careful not to wake up Sam as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Slowly, with tears escaping your eyes, you got up and started to get dressed. 

“Y/N, please don’t cry,” Dean came up to you and hugged you.

You wanted to revel in the comfort and safety his arms brought you but you knew you had to leave, Dean’s relationship with his father being one of the most important things. Sniffling, you pulled yourself away from his arms, looking into his face and almost breaking at the broken and vulnerable look on it.

“I have to go Dean, I can’t ruin what you have with your dad,” you admitted, making your way to the front door.

Being stopped once again with Dean’s hand on your forearm, “Please, we can figure this out,” he begged, his eyes tearing up.

It was the hardest thing you had ever done in your life but you took his hand off of your arm and gave him one last lingering kiss, forcing yourself to pull away and open the door. Before you closed the door on the love of your life, you turned and took one last look, “I love you, Dean.” You could hear the sound of anguish tear from his throat on the other side of the door and clenched your fists, forcing your feet to walk over to the impala. Getting in the passenger seat, you could feel John’s anger next to you. Not uttering a word, you looked out the window while he put the car in reverse and backed out of the lot, driving away from the motel. You looked back for as long as you could until eventually you couldn’t see it anymore, a few tears silently falling from your face. The entire car ride could not have been more uncomfortable, no sounds, the radio off, and it wasn’t like you were about to strike up a conversation. You found yourself looking out the passenger side window, reminiscing about your memories with Dean. The time that you guys had a prank war between you, him, and Sammy. It was one of the happiest moments of your life, constantly laughing with each other at the ridiculousness of each prank and the reactions of the victims. Your mind then wandered to when you and Dean managed to convince John to let you guys go to a high school party, minus a few details of course. You remember the two of you having the night of your lives, the both of you already fairly popular in the school. After a few hours of some more driving, John eventually pulled into a junkyard, a house in the middle of it all, you recognized it as Bobby’s house; another father figure to you. 

Parking the car, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, “Here, this should keep you going for a bit till Bobby helps you out,” offering it to you. 

You scoffed and opened the door to get out, “I don’t need anything from you,” you spat, slamming the door and marching over to Bobby’s front door, him opening it as you reached the porch. You walked right past him, a clear indication that you were enraged, and made your way upstairs to the guest bedroom you knew he had. You could faintly hear arguing from your room, a door slamming and the skidding of tires on the gravel floor, indicating that John had left.

I hope that Dean can still find happiness, though, I know that I never will.

Twenty Years Later

You were sitting at a bar, nursing a whiskey, on the rocks. After Bobby had died, you left the junkyard, too many memories of him everywhere, so you lived on the road. Motel by motel you barely managed to scrape by in life, working as a solo hunter. Occasionally, your mind would wander to the green eyed boy who had stolen your heart all those years ago and still has yet to give it back; but you tried to wipe those thoughts from your mind before they spiraled you into depravity. You heard the bar door swing open, not paying too much attention to it, you stared down in your drink, debating whether you should have another or leave.

“What would you like, handsome?” the busty bartender asked the man who had sat down next to you. You didn’t spare him a look, not in the mood to start a conversation with anyone.

“I’ll take a whiskey, and the time you get off of work,” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice and you had to stop yourself from gagging, though you had to admit, that voice did something to you. Curiosity took over and you glanced to your left where the man was.

“Holy shit...” you couldn’t believe your eyes, “D-dean?” you questioned warily. He glanced over to you and that’s when you saw his eyes and you knew, those perfect green eyes only belonged to one man. 

His eyes went wide and you could hear his breath get caught in his throat, “Oh my... Y-Y/N? Is that really you?” you could feel tears swelling in your eyes, giving him a nod. 

He let out a gasp and got up out of his seat to envelop you in a hug. You reciprocated, basking in the old feeling of comfort and safety that you always felt in his arms. You could hear him let out a choked breath, squeezing you harder. You smiled and a tear dropped down your face, your happiness at seeing him once again too great for words to describe. After a few moments the two of you pulled away and you let yourself get lost in his green eyes once again, just like you used to, seeing a much harder exterior from before, a pain in his eyes that could only come from years of loss. However, the thing that was extruding the most and was written all over his face was utter happiness. You gave him a once over, damn, age has done a fucking wonder on him. 

“So, Winchester, how the hell have you been?” 

The both of you fell into an easy conversation, it felt like you guys had never separated in the first place. You talked about everything that had happened after you left, leaving that part out, for neither of you wanted to revisit that event. It was around three hours later that your conversation died out, your face hurting from the smile stretching your lips.

“Hey, so uh, me and Sammy found a place, we call it the Bunker, it’s our home now. Do you wanna... come stay with us?” he asked hesitantly.

After hearing that John had died many years before, you looked into his eyes to see desperation written in them, just like you remembered, you could never say no to this man. “I would love to, Dean,” you smiled.

His face lit up like the Fourth of July, “Awesome! I mean... great! Well, let’s get out of here.”

You paid for your drinks and exited the bar, “Seems you still got that damn car though,” you chuckled, looking towards the sleek black Chevy Impala.

“Of course I do! Baby is irreplaceable.”

“That action figure still stuck in the ashtray?” he nodded, “The legos in the vent?” he nodded once more. You chuckled, “I’ll follow behind you.”

You both got into your cars and you followed closely behind Dean. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the old memories you had with him, and seeing him now, talking to him, only solidified your thought of him still holding your heart. You still loved him just as much as you did when you were teenagers, if not, even more so now. The only setback was that he’s straight. If it wasn’t obvious from his advancements on the bartender, you thought you had a pretty decent gaydar, and it screamed that he was straight. As heartbreaking as it was to know that you were just a phase in his life, you were still extremely good friends and you missed him, so you would take what you could get.

Arriving there about a half hour later, you got out of your car with your duffel to see a large iron door, “Wow, this place just screams ‘cozy’,” you joked, looking at him with a jokingly bitch face. 

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, Y/N,” he smirked, making you second guess your initial thought about the place.

You followed him to the door, him pulling out some sort of key and unlocking it, beckoning you over to enter before him. Walking past him through the doorway, you noticed an iron spiraling staircase that led to a living room sort of area. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you dropped your bag and took a moment to take in everything around you, a table in the center of the room with maps and other papers on top, chairs on every side of the round table. A library, stacked with so many books you counted around a few hundred off the top of your head. Two other exits that looked like long hallways leading to other areas of the Bunker.

“Damn, I really did judge too soon, this place is pretty awesome,” you breathed, spinning around to take in everything in the room like a child.

Dean laughed at your actions, “Told ya, come on, there’s someone that you probably wanna see.” He led you down the hallway and you walked past several doors with numbers in gold tint written on them, eventually stopping in front of one, Dean knocked on the door. You registered a voice call out, “Come in!” from the other side. He opened the door and you were met with a face you never thought you would have seen again.

“Oh my god, Sammy is that you? What the fuck? You’re huge!” you exclaimed, overjoyed that you could see the man you called a brother once again, but also surprised by his humongous figure.

“Y/N? How-Where-” he was struggling to pick which question to ask first so you took the initiative and ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, for he really was freakishly tall. You could feel his chest rack with a few sobs and felt his arms wrap around your shoulders, squeezing so tight like if he let go, you would disappear. 

“Holy shit, I’ve missed you so much, Y/N,” he choked. Your heart broke, for you had left without as much as a goodbye to Sammy, but also filled with happiness that after all these years, he still missed you.

He pulled away and looked you in your eyes, “I know why dad made you leave, and I understand that there was nothing to be done. I’m not mad at you for not saying goodbye, I’m just so glad that I can see you again,” he breathed. Even as a kid he could read me like a book, guess nothing has changed. You gave him an apologetic and grateful smile, turning to see Dean try and hold back his tears.

“Oh my god, Dean. Are you crying?” Sam asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“Shut up Sammy, dust got in my eyes,” he replied, slightly sniffling, leading to you and Sam laughing together.

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” Dean motioned to the door, walking you out, but before you could leave, “Hey, Y/N? Do you maybe wanna... watch a movie? Us three? Like the old days?” Sam asked, flailing his arms around, trying to gesture what he was saying. A genuine smile lit up on your face, remembering when the three of you would sit down at the motel and watch movies together. 

“I would love to,” you replied honestly.

He smiled and waved you out of the room, returning to whatever he was previously doing beforehand. 

“This is your room.”

Walking through the door Dean had kindly opened for you, you took in the decently sized room, a joint bathroom with a shower attached, and dropped your bag on the bed. Walking up to Dean, you gave him a hug, “Thank you,” you muttered into his chest, finally having a place you could call home.

He chuckled, “Anything for you, Y/N,” he breathed, hugging you back. His admission had your heart beating a little faster but you pushed it down, knowing he only meant it in a familial way. 

You pulled back, “Fuck unpacking, that can wait, let’s watch a movie.”

He grinned and nodded, walking back to Sammy’s room to get him. The youngest Winchester’s eyes lit up once again when he saw you, a smile spreading on his lips. As they walked past, you followed, shoulder to shoulder with Sam with Dean in the front of you guys.

“Damn, Sammy, I’m never going to get used to seeing how big you are,” you poked.

“I’m still never going to get used to seeing you again after all these years,” he breathed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

Dean turned and walked backwards, “How come he can call you Sammy but I can’t?” he questioned, an adorably confused look written on his features.

“Because, Y/N is my favorite,” he stated, looking down at you and kissing the top of your head.

“As adorable as that is, and as happy as that makes me, I’m still older than you Sammy. I kiss YOU on the head, not the other way around,” you mused. 

The three of you chuckled and walked into a large room with several couches and a large TV in the center of the wall, all of the couches angled towards it. Sitting down on one of the couches, Dean and Sam fought over who could sit next to you, for it was a two seater. You began laughing at their ridiculous behaviour, but it still warmed your heart like no other. Eventually Dean pulled a fast one on Sammy and sat down while he was recovering from a shove, he huffed and puffed and reluctantly plopped himself on the couch next to the two of you. 

You laughed once again, “Next time, Sammy.”

Dean cheered in success, throwing his arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his side, “I win! You’re all mine tonight, hate to break it to ya,” he cheered with a cheeky grin. Even before you and Dean had admitted your feelings to one another, you were super close, hugs and cuddles were completely normal for the two of you. 

You smiled, “Eh, I guess I can deal with it for a few hours,” looking up at him, your happiness evident in your face for his lighted up as well. 

Opening up Netflix on the TV, “Y/N, you choose, you always had the best taste,” Sammy piped in from his seat. Dean reluctantly handed the remote over to you, having just found a western movie he wanted to watch.

“Sorry Bean, looks like I’m picking,” the old nickname fell from your lips before you could even think about it. The look of adoration in his eyes and his pleased smile telling you that he liked you calling him that as much as you did. You scrolled for a few moments before deciding to put on “Extraction” a new movie with the main star Chris Hemsworth.

“God he is so fucking hot,” you breathed, seeing his face on the cover photo. You heard Sam chuckle and expected Dean to do the same, instead finding his body go stiff and felt his heavy sigh on your head. You were about to ask if something was wrong but decided against it feeling his body relax seconds later, his arm giving you a light squeeze.

Throughout the movie, you found yourself unable to focus, being so close to Dean was distracting you more than you thought it would. His scent was intoxicating, leather, whiskey, and another underlying scent that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it smelled like home. His warm and muscular body touching up on you, making your mind go delirious and your pants to tighten. After what felt like forever, the movie ended and everyone started to get up.

“That was a pretty good movie,” Sam said.

“Yeah, the action actually wasn’t too bad,” Dean admitted.

“I had trouble focusing on anything but Chris’ face to be honest,” coaxing another laugh from Sam, but when you looked over to Dean you noticed his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. 

Confused, you asked, “Dean, is there something wrong?” 

He smiled once more, but you knew him well enough to tell that it was completely fake, “Yeah I’m good, just a bit tired, let’s head off to bed.”

You reluctantly followed him, suspicious as to why he was acting so strange. Dean walked you to your door as you waved goodnight to Sammy.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” his hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’ll still be here,” you replied, his awkwardness shocking you, for he had always been confident in everything that he did.

“Great! Good, I mean. See ya tomorrow,” he rushed, walking away to his bedroom. You shook your head with a laugh, Dean acting completely out of character. Turning off the lights and getting into your bed after placing the duffel on the floor, you laid back with your face to the ceiling. This has probably been the best day in my life in the past twenty years. After tossing and turning from excitement for tomorrow, you eventually drifted off into sleep, your dreams filled with you and Dean together.

For the next few days, the boys decided to take a break from hunting, wanting to spend time with you and re-establish your relationship, not that it wasn’t already strong. Day after day, Dean seemed to be even more attentive with you, while you weren’t complaining it was somewhat strange, it was like he was slowly becoming the same boy that night you last saw him. Reprimanding yourself for assuming Dean was actually still into guys, you shook it off and instead focused on spending some quality time with the boys. After around four days, one night when you were preparing to go to bed, there was a knock at your door. 

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” you asked, a small smile on your lips.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside and let him enter, closing the door behind him. He turned back to you and it seemed like he was struggling with saying something, opening and closing his mouth a few times like a fish out of water. After a few moments, you heard him mutter, “Fuck it.” 

The next thing you knew, you were pushed against the door and his lips were on yours. At first you were surprised, eyes wide and lips still before you let yourself fall into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss feeling just like it did back when you were teens, but so much better. He had more experience, as did you, and it seemed like he poured all of it into the kiss, desperately trying to impress you. He pushed up the rest of his body on yours, rubbing his prominent erection against your thigh, prompting your own member to begin to harden. You moaned into the kiss and he took control of it, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

“Fuck, you taste just as perfect as you did all those years ago,” he moaned, returning to the kiss.

The similarity to the first time you had made love to each other threatening to burst your heart with nostalgia and happiness. You roughly pushed him off of you, earning a dark glare and a rumble to come from deep in his chest. You smirked and took off your shirt, playing with your waistband, slowly lowering them just above your pelvis, pulling it back up just before he could see anything then repeating the action. He was glued to the spot, eyes intently watching you like a hawk, his eyes told you that he liked what you were doing. Becoming impatient, you took off your pants, but left your underwear on, reaching out to tug on his waistband, pulling him towards you. You sucked on his neck and nibbled on the small space underneath his ear, gaining a low moan from Dean. Rubbing him through his pants, you continued your assault on his neck, making sure to leave marks that were clearly visible, wanting everyone to know that he was yours. He grunted and grabbed your bruisingly by the hips backing you up until your legs hit the bed and you fell, sitting down. He took off his shirt and you took your sweet time appreciating his body, toned arms, chest so large, it looked like the comfiest pillow you could ever have. He smirked at your reaction and slowly peeled off his pants along with his undergarments, his cock bouncing out of its confines, inches away from your face. Once again, the scene around you flashed to the exact moment that Dean stood in front of you like this all of those years ago. However, he was sexier now, more rugged, muscular, cock about another inch and a half longer than what it already was, making your mouth water. You bit your lip and reached out with your hand, tugging him closer to you with his large member as the anchor. 

“Last time this happened, I told you to suck my cock another time, well now is the time,” he graveled, reaching out to grip at your hair and using his other hand to guide his dick into your mouth. This time, you had no intention of teasing, all the years of waiting for this exact moment fueling your want and desire for him. Wrapping your lips around the tip of his head, you instantly pushed down, going as far as you could before popping off with a gasp of air. You wanted to please him so you pushed your limits, relaxing your throat and pushing all the way down until his pubic hair was pushing up against your nose. 

“Ohhhh fuckkk, Y/N. Nobody ever managed to suck this cock as good as you, always the best at everything,” he moaned.

His praise gave you the confidence boost to continue, bobbing your head forwards and backwards, forcing small moans and whimpers to fall from his lips. 

“Fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna cum,” he whined.

You pulled away for a second, “Cum, Dean. Let me taste you,” returning to your task, you gave it everything you had, using your other hand to massage the area between his hole and his sack, making his legs start to quiver and his breathing to pick up.

“Oh shit, just like that,” he started pumping his hips into your mouth, chasing his own release. After a few more pumps, his hold on your hair tightened and he thrusted one last time, “FUCK Y/N!” he called out, pouring what felt like a gallon of cum into your mouth and down your throat. He released your hair and took a step back, his softening dick falling out of your mouth as you swallowed the last of his load down, palming yourself through your boxers to relieve the tension, his taste extremely arousing. 

“Holy shit, that was amazing,” he breathed, chest heaving with the deep breaths he was taking. 

He reached into his sweatpants on the floor and pulled out a tube of lube, “Did you seriously come in here thinking I was gonna fuck you?” you asked, a slightly annoyed look on your face.

He gave you a toothy grin, “Well, I was right wasn’t I?” Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. He placed the lube on the side of the bed and roughly grabbed your legs, manhandling you onto your stomach, the pressure from his fingers leaving marks behind in their wake. Tearing off your underwear, he wasted no time in shoving his face into your ass, tongue fucking into it, spreading your cheeks with his hands.

“Oh fuck Dean! Shit, that’s so good,” you whined, gripping the bed sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. He was relentless in his assault, stretching a few fingers from his hand on your ass to tease your rim, rubbing circles around it.

“Dean, please,” you begged, voice faint and weak.

“I’m going to take care of you, Y/N. I got you.”

He grabbed the lube bottle and squeezed some on your ass and his fingers, the cool liquid making you jump slightly. He chuckled and resumed his task, slowly inching in two fingers into your tight opening. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re still so damn tight,” he groaned, pushing his fingers in until the knuckle and fucking into you.

“Shit! That feels so good Dean!” you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut and scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure. After a few more minutes of fingering you, he pulled out and you heard the bottle of the lube open up, turning back to see him pour a generous amount over his cock and lathering it, already just as hard as it previously was. 

“I’m gonna fuck you, hard,” he growled, grabbing your cheeks and roughly squeezing them, forcing them open so his monstrous cock could fit inside. He started slow, pushing in with the head, stretching you so incredibly, giving you a sense of fullness. After the head was fully seated inside, you thought he would continue the slow pace, but instead he shoved the rest of his cock in one sharp thrust.

“FUCK!” you screamed, the sudden intrusion splitting your ass into two. He chuckled darkly before pulling out where just the tip remained and repeated the motion, another loud moan ripping out from your throat. Continuing, he began to pound into you relentlessly, the bed creaking, threatening to break from the sheer strength of his thrusts. His hands were placed on your hips, guiding them back and forth onto his cock as he rotated his hips and pushing into you. At first, it was mostly pain, but your walls eventually widened to accommodate his large size and you began to call out in ecstasy rather than pain, his cock reaching what felt like your stomach. 

“Take my fucking cock, that’s it, such a perfect hole, mine, and mine only,” he growled, accentuating each word with a thrust. He was filling you up delightfully, moans of pleasure and need falling from your lips. He snaked an arm around your chest and pulled you up level to him, the new angle hitting your g-spot delectably.

He bit your ear, “Who do you belong to,” he grounded out.

“You! I belong to you, Dean. I’m yours!” you whined.

“That’s fucking right, mine,” he growled possessively, pushing your head back down into the bedsheets, your ass still elevated, providing an even better angle for him to push into you. 

Your moans were muffled by the bedsheets, “Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned.

“Cum without touching yourself, cum on my cock,” he commanded, grabbing your wrists with his free hand and holding them together on your back. You felt the string snap at his words, cumming into the bedsheets with a loud grunt. After a few more pumps, you felt him still, spilling his seed into you, filling you up with the amount of cum streaming from his cock. He pumped a few more times, sharp ruts that had you whine from the impact on your prostate. Pulling out, he used his discarded t-shirt on the floor to clean up the mess, tossing it aside and turning you onto your back. Reaching down, he kissed you softly and pulled away with a loving look on his face.

“When you left all those years ago, you said something to me,” you felt your cheeks redden, “Dean, you don’t-”

“You told me that you loved me, but what you didn’t let me do was respond,” he breathed, vulnerability shining in his mossy eyes.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Forever Tags List: @magssteenkamp​ @shadowsinger11​ @donnaintx​

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags List: @akshi8278​

Male Reader Tags: @beka-dreamer​ @brymalibu​

[spohkh]

miracle on cornelia street [dean/castiel]

so BASICALLY sarah @adanceinasnowglobe and i were talking about what everyone would be up to post-series -- yknow, like, now that theyre all safe and healthy n everythings cool and destiel is officially together. yknow. as happened in canon -- and we were like so obviously destiel get a house, and thats kind of the basis of this verse so !! this is the foundational fic for what i HOPE will be a series of fun lil day-in-the-life drabbles, from both me and sarah!! 

ehehehe :-) enjoy!

read on AO3

The house is a quaint thing, sitting low and snug under a pair of shady oak trees in a quiet suburb just outside of downtown Lawrence. Its brickwork face is weathered—definitely in need of a good power wash—and the roof is just as worn. The bottom step to the porch slants unevenly, and the porch itself has cracks in the concrete. There are chips in the paint on the window frames, the iron porch railing is rusting, and who knows when the gutters were last given a proper cleaning.

There’s a lot of work to be done, but standing there in the small front lawn, Dean Winchester can’t say if he’s ever seen anyplace else so perfect as the house at 3767 Cornelia Street. Dean’s house—his home. His home with Cas.

“Can you believe it?” he quietly says to Miracle, who has been sitting patiently by Dean’s leg. Miracle tilts her head and wags her tail. Dean looks back up at the house. “Yeah, me neither.”

The sound of a familiar car rumbling up the road snaps Dean out of his reverie. He rubs a knuckle at his eye and clears his throat and tries to look like he hadn’t been standing in his front yard about to cry while talking to his dog, christ.

The car rolls to a stop on the curb just in front of the house. The driver’s side door opens, and Sam slowly unfolds his ridiculous limbs as he gets out. It’s always a wonder how he can fit himself into a car at all. Sam gives a dorky little wave as he ambles over to where Dean is standing.

Dean peers behind Sam, trying to see into the car. “What, no Eileen?”

“Hello to you, too. Dick,” he replies snarkily. “She’s wrapping up a work thing. She’ll come over when she’s done.”

Dean sucks his teeth in disappointment. “Ah, well. Guess you can go home then.” Sam shoves at his shoulder. Dean just laughs and pulls Sam in for a proper hello hug.

“Why are you standing out here, anyway?” Sam asks when they part.

“Can’t a man just hang out in his own front yard? Accompanied by a dashing canine companion?” He leans down to pat Miracle on the head.

“I guess…” Sam looks down at Miracle. When she tips her head up and gazes back at him, Sam snorts.

“What?”

“Miracle on Cornelia Street,” Sam says with mirth.

Dean squints at him. “What?” he repeats, now more incredulous.

“You know—like Miracle on 34th Street. But we’re on Cornelia, so.” He nods down at the dog. “Miracle on Cornelia Street.”

“Dude.” Dean rolls his eyes at Sam’s goofy grin and starts walking up the path to the house, Miracle trotting behind him. “Shut up and come inside already.”

Sam follows after him, pausing just inside the threshold as he spots something on the doorframe. “Oh, classy,” he says, throwing a sardonic look to where D.W. and C.W. are scratched into the wood.

“Just wait,” Dean jokes with a toothy smile, “when I got the time I’m gonna draw a little heart around it.” He was joking, but now that he said it, he kind of wanted to.

Cas looks up from the stove when they walk into the dining room. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old AC/DC tees, the logo all but worn away from being washed so many times. He’s usually in some ratty tee or other when lounging around these days. But in honor of Sam’s visit today (Cas’ words) and to seem a little more dressy short of donning his usual button-downs (Dean’s private opinion), he’s also wearing the cable-knit cardigan Sam got him as a gift last Christmas. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam leans against the counter that separates the dining and kitchen areas, craning his giraffe neck to catch a glimpse at the stove. “Hey, Cas! What’cha cooking?”

“Nothing. Dean made it. I was just watching the pot so it didn’t boil over.” He locks eyes with Dean, his intent stare very clearly communicating I did not touch the chili I added nothing I did not touch the dial I was just watching it like you asked so don’t even start.

Dean just smiles as he walks past the counter and steps into Cas’ space. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, and busses Cas on the cheek.

“You’re welcome,” Cas replies warmly. He’s gazing up at Dean with those summer afternoon blue eyes, standing in one of Dean’s shirts and that dorky cardigan, and Dean starts to get full of that feeling from out in the front yard again. If they were alone, Dean would probably say something recklessly sappy like I am so stupid in love with you.

As it is, Dean clears his throat and turns back to Sam, slinging an arm around Cas’ shoulders, and says, “He did the salad.”

Cas sneaks him a knowing look before, thankfully, putting his attention on Sam without commenting on Dean’s hasty redirection. “I did the salad,” Cas agrees blithely, and places the salad bowl on the counter for Sam to see, seeming pleased with himself.

Sam looks between the two of them, an amused tilt to his eyebrow that Dean implicitly distrusts. He’s definitely thinking mocking thoughts about the two of them. But he just quirks a smile and says, “It looks great.” Shrewd little diplomat.

Cas shifts to the side to see past Sam’s shoulder. Sam glances behind himself before shooting Cas a confused look.

“She’s still at work,” Dean tells Cas, guessing who he’s looking for. “Sadly.”

“What, am I not good enough?”

“Of course you are,” Cas promises earnestly, just as Dean says, “Well…”

Sam’s opening his mouth to retort, probably something absolutely scathing, when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, a smile spreading over his face. “Speak of the devil,” he says, then tips his head with a grimace, “as it were. That was Eileen. She’ll be here soon, so I’m gonna go wash up.”

“Bathroom’s down the hall—“

“Dude, I know where it is. I did help you guys move in.”

Dean spreads his hands in assent. “Fine, christ, I swear never to be a good host to you in my home ever again. Go ahead and go take your dump now.”

“I’m not gonna—ohmygodnevermind.” He turns on his heel and huffs down the hall, Miracle trotting after him, the tags on her collar clinking together jauntily.

Dean reaches past Cas to turn the burner off, then lands his hand on Cas’ hip. “Have I told you today how cute you are in that sweater?”

“Yes.” Cas brings his hands up to cradle Dean’s face. “Four times.”

“Make it five.” Dean kisses him. He pulls Cas into a hug, pressing his face against Castiel’s shoulder. They sway into each other. After a warm moment, Dean says in a low voice, “The first family dinner in our house.”

Cas hums a soft, contented sound in agreement. “The first of many,” he responds, just as quiet. Dean squeezes him tighter. He knows they’re both thinking about Jack and Claire, their bedrooms sitting empty and waiting for whenever they can find the time to visit—and Kaia and Alex and Jody with Claire, if they can, and Charlie and her girlfriend, and Bobby, and all the other wayward extensions of their sprawling family caught out in the wind. Their house isn’t big enough to host everyone, but with Sam and Eileen up the block and the bunker just a few miles out, there’s plenty of room to put up people who come out their way. Dean has the hope that 3767 Cornelia Street becomes a common pitstop for folks—a suburban Roadhouse, a tidier (much tidier) Singer Salvage.

Dean presses a kiss against Cas’ neck, and Cas breathes a sweet little sigh that pushes all thoughts about future dinners right out the window. Fuck, this dinner could go out the window, for all he cares. He kisses a little higher up, right under Cas’ jawline, before pulling back to catch Castiel’s darkened gaze. “How ‘bout we ditch the nag and go have a private party of our own?”

“Dean, no. I worked really hard on that salad.” He sounds perfectly serious, but the playful glint in his eye gives him away. Dean snorts, mumbling oh, forgive me, Chef Cas as he leans in again.

Just as they kiss, Sam walks back in. “Hey, I think something’s wrong with your sink–- oh, sorry.”

“Huh?” Dean reluctantly pulls away as Sam clears his throat, looking sheepish. “What’s wrong with what, Sammy?”

“Uh, with your bathroom.”

“The bathroom? Oh, what, you clogged the toilet?”

“Wha— N—  I DID NOT SHIT IN YOUR BATHROOM.”

“Then how did the toilet get messed up?”

“It’s the SINK, the SINK—”

“You took a shit in the sink?”

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dean…”

“What? He started it.”

“Started WHAT?”

Dean snaps his fingers. “The end of the world.”

“Oh! My god!”

“I guess technically, yeah, since god is our kid...” He turns to Cas. “Weird, weird lives we lead.”

Cas just shakes his head, clearly exasperated. Sam has given up on speaking completely and has fallen back on making a gesture like he’s one second away from grabbing Dean by the throat.

“I was there for all twelve years of it,” Sam says to Cas, “and I still can’t believe you stayed with this guy.”

“Well,” Cas muses serenely, “you’ve been here a lot longer than me.”

Sam grimaces when Dean throws him his best shit-eating grin. Nothing like his two favorite people bonding over how much of a pain he is.

The sound of the front door opening distracts them, and then a voice calls, “Knock knock! The life of the party has arrived!”

“Eileen!” Sam exclaims happily. Miracle takes off down the hall, Sam hot on her heels.

Dean chuckles at Sam’s unabashed excitement, then gives Castiel another peck on the cheek before moving away from him. “Can you put everything out on the table? I’ll go check out the bathroom sitch real quick.”

Cas catches his hand as he starts to leave, softly saying his name. When Dean looks back at him, Cas smiles and says, “I love you.”

Dean wonders if maybe three time’s the charm and he should just give in to what his body wants him to do. If a man has a right to stand around and cry messily anywhere in his own home, surely the kitchen would be the place to do it. The kitchen, after all, is the heart of any house.

But Dean doesn’t. He indulges in a little sniffle, Cas’ eyes glimmering with knowing in the soft light. Dean brings Cas’ hand to his mouth and kisses the neat gold band around his finger, and he kisses each peaked knuckle, and he turns Cas’ hand over and kisses his palm and his wrist. Then he lets go and puts his own hand against Cas’ cheek, and says his recklessly sappy thing: “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

And the glowing feeling inside him doesn’t settle, only grows brighter.

Whatever’s wrong with the sink will be just one more thing to a long list of shit to deal with. Their house needs work, no denying. But Dean knows they’ve got plenty of time.

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part one ~ caught sight of her ~

(part one)

A/N: I wanted to write this for awhile. It’s the first fanfic I’ve ever written so it might not be amazing, but I hope it’s good and that you enjoy it! I will be getting some of the English aspects wrong (sorry).

Summary: Alex is not the kind of man (if given the chance) to steal another man's girlfriend. Or is he? 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Set in 2020. Mentions of the Budweiser Bug. (Sam is an OC)

Word Count: 2.5k

It was a warm and late afternoon.

There was a short break in the clouds and the sunlight streamed through to bounce off his sunglasses, as he walked the pavement.

It was a warm and late afternoon – teetering on hot.

Alex wore his white Gucci button-up which was fantastic for not attracting heat. Still there were noticeable wet spots under his arms. For each street closer he was to his apartment building he quickened his pace and rolled his shoulders back. Adjusting – so that the cloth might peel off from his skin without him having to directly pinch it out from his armpits. Alex did not like being sweaty – but who did?

Despite how he might have felt about crowds or said crowds looking at him, he more often than not enjoyed the loudness of his expensive shirts, his california twink shorts, even his odd hair colours (if applicable). What these preferences said for his personality was anyone's guess.

Maybe he was secure enough in his identity to enjoy things that are deemed as classically feminine. Maybe he was making a statement on the gender binary, or the expectations of traditional masculinity.

Maybe he had stared into the darkness inside long enough that he could not bear having to see it outside as well. Or maybe he liked pink – thought it complimented his cool skin tone or his lip colour.

Which it did.

One street from his building, Alex picked up his feet and sped up. He reached the front entrance; his hand went for the door handle and – WHAM!

Alex grasped at his nose, which had connected first with the glass of the door as it swung out. There was no red on his hands as he drew them back to check, but there was a general throbbing radiating out from the middle of his face.

From above him, a man asked, "Shit, you alright there?" His voice was rich like a slice of peanut butter cheesecake drizzled in a chocolate sauce of genuine concern. While he spoke, the man dropped the large cardboard box he was holding – it hit the ground like it weighed well over seven stone – and sidestepped out from the other side of the door.

"No. Yeah. Fuck, give me a moment."

"I could get you ice or something, maybe?" The man held his hand out in the air at an odd distance from Alex’s left shoulder, hesitant it seemed to touch him.

"It's fine." His eyes spotted the hand, then the discarded box. It was wrapped tight in tape, across the top was written STORAGE in permanent marker. Alex gestured to the building and asked, "You moving out?"

"Moving in actually, I just grabbed the wrong box by accident. Maybe one of these days I'll learn how to read." He bent over and picked the box up.

"Well, I'm Alex. 205"

"Sam. 305." (a floor above) "Everyone calls me Sammy."

How to describe Sammy. Picture an elk – a blond elk. A majestic beast for sure. Picture that and then make it stand on its hind legs and also be a person. He had a naturally muscular build and an evident dedication to a workout regimen – not too intense like three or four times a week.

Everything about him appeared likeable, charming. Certainly, it was his voice. As well as the goofy smile, how he carried himself ~the confidence~ and how he held a comfortable amount of eye contact.

Alex gave a polite smile. In the pit of his stomach something was building – he had not eaten in at least ten hours – a feeling like optimism. Surely, if he were courteous and pleasant now, perhaps this new neighbor might be less willing to lodge noise complaints against him later on.

"You look strong." Sammy cleared his throat before continuing, "There's a couple-three more boxes left I got to bring up. And a sofa. I'll never be able to get that thing up myself. You're heading up, right? You wouldn't mind helping, would you?"

"No. No—I mean, yes. I will help you." It was a class rendition of George's commentary stutter.

"Great! I got to get the truck unloaded before the game. You're really doing me a solid." Sammy's smile widened to be a bit open-mouthed – like that of a dog after being told it was a good boy. He led Alex to the other end of the car park, to the truck, the sofa, and the boxes.

Alex stood waiting – as Sammy crawled into the truck bed – to help ease the sofa out. He tried to get a good hold around the back of it as it sprung out at him. Sammy pushed on his end, putting a lot of unjustified faith into a stranger.

He did not hear a complaint from Alex, just a string of strained grunts.

Sammy hopped out – boots hit the ground, and he took over the lifting part of moving furniture while Alex acted more as a guiding hand.

Walking toward the building, Alex shouted across the sofa, "Who you cheering for tonight?"

"Newcastle! Who else? Best there is in the whole sport far as I can tell."

A bark of a laugh shot from Alex's mouth. "I've got someone you have to meet."

Hanging around Sammy – for the time it took to maneuver the sofa in/out of the lift and to retrieve the remaining boxes and haul them up – was not not enjoyable. It was comfortable.

Alex did not think about the manual labor he had been tricked into doing; instead, he was preoccupied with chattering on and on as both rode the lift up. He answered all Sammy's questions – about the building, the people, the area.

He rinsed the other man for his team preferences and his truck – despite Alex himself not being able to drive. And while there was a lot of damning material for Sammy to 'fire back' with, he did not.

With arms shaking slightly under the weight of the last medium-large sized box, Alex went on with his lighthearted ribbing. And Sammy just laughed along. Even snorting once.

"Not even joking – are you a comedian or something?"

Alex beamed. "Or something."

Both men had a chance to rattle off some horror stories of the absolute shitholes they had rented in the past.

DING of the lift doors opening interrupted a rant on neighbors who complained about the littlest of noises, which Alex continued after stepping into the hall.

Then, it was done. The last boxes were set on the floor of the bare-walled apartment. What was Alex meant to do now? Leave? Hang around? Ask for a drink?

It was not like he was desperate for friends, just that Sammy was genuine, and it never hurt to have someone to ring up to accompany him on a night out or if Alex ever got evicted again.

Sammy dragged out a dramatic sigh as he straightened up, leaving the last box he had carried up – labeled DISHWARE – next to the sofa. Raising his arms above his head, he stretched out his back. Alex might have done the same, but he was conscious of the absurdly damp state of his underarms.

"I'm having friends over for drinks and to watch the game," Alex began. "Maybe a few rounds of FIFA afterwards. You should come – if you want, or not. There'll be money on it, and I tend to lose a lot."

"You just helped me move a sofa up three floors, shouldn't I be the one offering you something?" Sammy slapped Alex on the shoulder perhaps harder than he meant, perhaps not taking into consideration the size difference.

"There's nothing I need."

"Well, it sounds fun. I'll be sure to come round! And I'll—"

KNOCK. KNOCK.

A young woman stepped through the apartment door while her gaze held an intense focus on her wristwatch for too long. Like it does not take anyone who knows how to read a manual clock that long to figure out the time. She was looking at it just to look at it – to look preoccupied.

Shoulders a bit rolled in and posture a bit poor, she took five steps in and closed the door before even looking up. She pulled her head up from her wristwatch.

Upon seeing the space, her eyes brightened and shined. She gasped a small (not surprised but delighted) gasp, smiling big. And—and—oh.

OH.

OOOHhoho. Oh.

Oh, no.

Alex caught sight of her, and he was gone.

And it was not that she was perfect. No, she was not the airbrushed model of the advertisements on the tube. No. She was her, and it was ~ugh~ it was almost indescribable. It was the fit of her clothes and her hair and the cute ears. It was all of those separately and all of those at once, at the same time.

Seeing her was like living in a significant moment in history. Like attending a World's Fair, holding a piece of the Berlin Wall as it was being torn down, or standing on the frontline of a revolution.

It was having an inkling – a fervent gut feeling – knowing that what was happening was momentous and would leave an everlasting impact. But, for the time being, he was just in it: living it. Experiencing everything with the understanding that millions of different pieces had to have fallen into place for this one thing to happen and he. was. there.

"Hi, Red." Sammy caught her in a tight vice-like embrace.

"Hello." It was muffled a smidge from having her face buried in his shirt. She broke apart from him first.

"Alex, this is my girlfriend. Y/N. We call her Red." He said, keeping her close with an arm snaked around her middle while she gazed up at him.

In their brief time hanging out together, Alex had not considered that Sammy might have a girlfriend, nor did he consider that Sammy might not have a girlfriend.

He had not thought about it at all. Not in the slightest.

"Nice to meet you." Alex reached out his hand.

Y/N tore her gaze from Sammy and stared at the hand in front of her; she pondered it. Not moving. Her face flushed like she was going to be ill.

"Um...I..." He retracted his hand, shoving it deep into the pocket of his shorts.

"She won't shake your hand, mate, nothing against you – just a germaphobe. That's on me for not telling you beforehand."

"That's alright. I guess we're not meant to be shaking hands anyway." An awkward chuckle drippled off his tongue to which he did not receive a reaction. "With the Budweiser Bug and all."

"Oh, I'm not scared of that. People overreact." Sammy switched gears and moved to stand at Alex’s side.

Alex continued smiling as he considered how that might have been the most ignorant thing he had heard all month. But not everyone had the opportunities to take higher education courses as he had.

Y/N kept quiet during their exchange and after looking over Alex once more (avoiding his face), she flickered her gaze to Sammy.

It was like standing in the same room with someone on the phone and getting one half of the conversation. Alex was left guessing based on how confused and uncomfortable Y/N appeared to be as to what expression Sammy was using to respond to her questioning gaze.

Whatever he must have signaled or mouthed, it worked.

"Hello," Y/N addressed him simply as she set sail those dazzling eyes of hers into the peaceful seas of Alex's blue set, "It's nice to meet you as well."

It was a voice to tune-in to over the general hum of a group of speakers. A voice that might be complimented as being good for radio. A voice clear and crisp like water (from anywhere but London tap).

Alex wanted to keep her talking – to hear her mind and her thoughts. Hear her present a speech, putter a nervous ramble, or just word vomit. Hear how she pronounces each consonant and vowel. And if there were specific words that carried a different accent than the rest. Where did those come from? Where did she come from?

Notwithstanding his questionable reputation in a few corners of the internet, Alex was not a complete and utter irrational weirdo. He did have a brain which he would use part of the time.

It was not unlike him to be struck with crushes on young women and men he met in passing—he was human; it happens. If he was feeling extra alone, that crush might linger longer.

Might stumble into his dreams.

That is all it was—a crush. Right? Then why did it feel different? Not like that of a sudden burst of flames but of a washing-over sense of relief – an unquestionable assuredness in something new.

New or not, Alex was determined not to be weird about it.

"Why go by Red?" ...when Y/N is so fitting, so beautiful. Mission: Don't Be Weird Status: Failed

"What do you mean?" she asked with her head cocked to the left.

"Come on." With a clear sense of boredom in the direction of the conversation, Sammy strolled to the sofa and sat on it. He ripped into the cardboard box labeled DISHWARE and began emptying plates and mugs onto the cushion next to him. Speaking a bit louder to be heard over the tearing of tape, he offered, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Guess not. Or I might just be a little thick."

Everyone ignored his comment.

"You know, if you want to stick around some, Red's making quiche."

"Quiche?" Alex walked toward the back of the sofa – stopping a few meters short. "More of a breakfast food, don't you think?"

Bringing a hand to his chest in mock shock and offence, Sammy declared, "Food does not have curfews!"

"Except at hotels...and McDonald's."

"No. No, not McDonald's. Not for a while now; where have you been?"

Alex rolled his eyes; while searching for some support in the conversation, he turned to find Y/N had disappeared in the single second she was out of his sights.

A disappointed frown formed on his pink lips.

Perhaps it was a cue for him to leave as well. "I got to run. I'll be seeing you then?"

"Right," said Sammy. "Go Newcastle! Yeah?"

Alex thumped his closed fist twice against his chest in an odd gesture (which meant nothing) and smiled a closed mouth smile as he stepped backwards out the apartment door to the carpeted hall.

Sammy chuckled and shook his head, "You're a funny guy, Alex."

[let-me-love-you-loki]

An Ending Within-Ch. 11

Chapter 11

           I walked into the restaurant, my brace making my movements clunky and uneven. Ever since the match against Jon and Kris, I’d been forced to wear it. Dr. Sampson, the AEW medical director, had gotten in touch with Dr. Thurman, my main doctor, and they decided together that the brace and a week out of action were required.

           I hated it.

           My first official AEW match and I fucked up.

           I heard my name from a booth near the back of the dining room. Roman stood by the table and smiled. The radiant warmth of beach sunshine spilled over me. I could scent the salt spray of the ocean as he pulled me into a heavy, warm hug. He kissed me on the hair, his voice rumbling in his chest.

           “Lelei le vaʻai ia te oe, tuafafine laitiiti.”

           Safety. Home. Unconditional love and support. It all settled into my bones when I heard him speak.

           “It’s good to see you, too, uso matua,” I replied, hugging him hard around the middle.

           He pressed a kiss to my forehead and turned toward the table, gesturing to the other people who were there. “I brought friends.”

           Hunter and Stephanie sat at the table, both bearing slightly worried but still welcome smiles. They stood and gave me their hugs in turn before the four of us settled around the table.

           “How’s your leg, Llane?” Stephanie asked, leaning forward over the table.

           I looked down at my leg and shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ve not been numb for days now. But the docs are being extra careful.”

           Hunter nodded and draped his arm along the back of his wife’s chair. “They should be. You’re still doing your PT?”

           He watched me with those knowing dark brown eyes of his. It reminded me of how my father would look at my brothers and I when he was grilling us.

           “Yes, Dad,” I replied, grinning at him. “I go all the time. And Dr. Sampson makes me go through medical approval before I go anywhere near the ring.”

           “Michael Sampson?” Roman asked as the waitress appeared with drinks.

           We put in our order before I had a chance to respond.

           “Yeah.”

           “Good,” Hunter said firmly. “He knows what he’s doing. He used to work for us at the PC.”

           It was the first mention of the fact that we were at rival companies. That they were the daughter and son-in-law of a man who hated the people who ran my promotion. I had thought, that last day in his office, that I’d never see Hunter or Stephanie again. Not until The Shield got into the Hall of Fame—if it ever happened.

           After all, Vince could be petty and both Jon and I had jumped ship to AEW.

           Stephanie smiled softly and reached across the table to take my hand. “We miss you, Llane. And it makes us happy to see you happy.”

           “Trust me, itiiti,” Roman said, curling his arm around my shoulders. “That locker room isn’t the same without you. The ladies miss you.”

           “And whatever else I think about that pissant company,” Hunter said, chuckling until his eyes crinkled, “I know you are going to be running that division soon.”

           “I’m going to tell Billy you said that.”

           Hunter leaned back in his chair and practically roared with laughter. “Oh, he knows. And he’s perfectly happy there, which is all that matters.”

***

           Thuds. The sound of flesh in violent contact. The rumble of the boards beneath the canvas.

           Black and Brave was busy as Marek and the other trainers put the students through their paces. Sefina slept in her stroller nearby, Seth’s hat turned sideways on her head, long ago used to the sound of a wrestling school.

           It was her lullaby.

           Seth was in the ring with a few of the students. They sat on the turnbuckles while he talked them through a sequence. I watched him mime the movements, walking the ring to block out the spacing of them.

           I remembered the first time I saw him in this building. He was brilliant then. He was brilliant now.

           “Maggie, give it a try,” he said, gesturing to a girl who was only a smidge taller than Alexa Bliss. Seth glanced over his shoulder at me, grinning softly. “Remember, use your strengths. Don’t wrestle like me… wrestle like you.”

           After all this time, it was finally sinking in.

***

           “Are you sure you’re good?” Kenny Omega asked as I walked down the hallway backstage. He was dressed in his gear, ready for a match against Sammy Guevara for the AAA championship.

           I adjusted the strap of my brace around my upper thigh. “Sampson says so. I’m ready to get out of this thing.”

           He nodded. “Let’s talk about what’s up for you next after the match.” We stopped in gorilla, and I leaned against the wall to take some pressure off my leg. One of the producers jerked his chin in our direction, and a camera pointed in our direction.

           Kenny planted his palm on the wall near my head. His two-toned curls whipped as he shook his head. “Here’s the truth, Leighton,” he said faux seriously. “The faster we get you out of the Inner Circle the better.”

           “What makes you think I want out?” I retorted, putting a lot of snark into my voice. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t work alone.”

           “C’mon, you’re a badass,” Kenny said dramatically. “The Elite could use someone like you.”

           “Stop poaching, you pumpkin-headed dipshit,” Jericho said, appearing around the corner with Sammy in tow. They crowded in, trying to push Kenny away. “Black is Inner Circle. I brought her into AEW. She’s not going anywhere.”

           I thumped Sammy in the chest, trying to draw his attention to wher I saw the Bucks coming up behind them. They stopped a few steps behind him, their arms crossed over their chests. Nick smirked. “You think she really wants to be part of your Inner Circle jerk?”

           “You watch your mouth, Nick Jackson,” Jericho shot back. Sammy tried to slip his arm around my shoulder. I shoved him off.

           Matt bucked up, getting into Sammy and Jericho’s faces. “Watch it.”

           Kenny tried to wedge in between them. I rolled my eyes and sighed before dropping to the floor and crawling out of the pile on my hands and knees. When I was clear, I let out a whistle.

           “Hey! How about all of you shut the hell up?” I crossed my arms and tossed back my hair. “C’mon, Sammy, it’s time to win that title off Ramen Noodles over there.”

           Sammy shoved his way out of the pile and threw an arm around my shoulder. I didn’t flinch. “See you in a few, Omega.”

           We walked toward the entrance tunnel and out of the shot. As soon as we were out of camera range, he dropped his arm. “When did this angle start up?” Sammy queried as he stretched.

           “Which one?”

           He gave me one of his goofy grins and gestured between us. I laughed and swept my hair up into a ponytail. “This isn’t an angle, Guevara. Point is that I’m a hot commodity—everybody wants me on their team. If the Nightmare Collective was still a thing, they’d be recruiting me too.”

           “Dark Order on your doorstep?”

           I rolled my eyes. “Mr. Brodie only takes the guys. Good for him.” I glanced at the schedule on the wall by the tunnel. Jon had a pre-taped promo. He wasn’t even in the building.

           Before he could respond, a producer pointed at him and his music thundered through the speakers. Sammy Guevara. He bounced on his toes and pushed through the curtain. I followed right behind, serving as a second for the night.

           “This match is a Triple A championship title match,” said Dasha from the ring. “Introducing first, your challenger, accompanied by the Inner Circle’s Leighton Black, from Houston, Texas, weighing one hundred eighty-five pounds… Sammy Guevara!”

           As soon as Sammy was in the ring, Kenny’s techno-rock theme filled the building. He came stalking out of the tunnel, pausing at the top of the ramp. Pyro shot into the air.

           “Your Triple A Heavyweight Champion, from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, weighing two hundred twenty-nine pounds… Kenny Omega!” Kenny didn’t move as Dasha finished his introduction. There was a split second of quiet, and then a heavy guitar riff spilled out of the sound system. Matt came running out of the tunnel still in jeans and a t-shirt. Dasha looked to the ringside producer, who shrugged.

           “He is accompanied by one half of the Young Bucks…Matt Jackson.”

           I looked up the ramp and grinned at Sammy. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Tag List

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[queenofcats17]

Sidewalk Eggs

@arcadequeerz posted this and I can’t not write it.

Warning; this gets...really gross. 

---------------------------------------------

Wally fried eggs on the sidewalk when it was hot. 

Sammy wasn’t sure why he did this because a.) it was incredibly unsanitary, and b.) it absolutely would not cook the egg properly. The first time he’d seen Wally doing it, he’d been absolutely baffled by the scene before him. 

He’d snuck out of the studio to have a cigarette to ease some of his stress. Yes, he was trying to quit, but he needed something to take the edge off of his stress. When he’d opened the back door to sneak out, he’d found Wally crouched on the sidewalk, staring at an egg. He had a carton of eggs right next to him. The cigarette in Sammy’s mouth dropped to the ground as his mouth gaped open.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” He asked. 

“Makin’ lunch,” Wally replied, glancing back at him with a goofy grin. “You want some?” 

Sammy stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some sort of joke. Unfortunately, Wally’s expression was completely sincere. Which meant Wally was genuinely going to eat the sidewalk eggs. Sammy wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or amused. 

“....I’m good,” he said slowly. 

Wally shrugged and turned back to his eggs. “Eh, your loss.”

“I’ll have some.” Henry suddenly stuck his head out the back door. 

Sammy stifled the urge to roll his eyes and groan. “Of course you will, Stein.”

Henry walked out to hunker down beside Wally, both of them watching the eggs intently. Wally occasionally poked at them with a stick. By this point, all desire Sammy had to smoke was gone. 

“You idiots are going to get salmonella,” he said. “There’s no way the sidewalk is going to cook them properly.”

“Aw, don’t be so negative, Sammy,” Wally scoffed. “We’ll be fine!”

They were not fine. 

The next day when Sammy came in, he found Henry slumped over his desk, considerably paler than usual and drenched in sweat. Then Wally stumbled past, equally pale and sweaty, and vomited into one of his mop buckets. Sammy fought the urge to grin in self-satisfaction. His friends were sick. This wasn’t the time for him to gloat. But he couldn’t help himself.

“I hate to say I told you so, but-” He was cut off by Wally throwing up loudly and messily. Sammy took a step back. Well...He’d gotten his point across.

“The egg...betrayed me, Sammy,” Henry whimpered. 

“You’re an idiot, Stein.” Sammy sighed. 

.

Despite this disastrous incident, Wally continued to attempt to cook eggs on the sidewalk. A few days after Henry’s departure from the studio, Sammy found Wally outside again, sadly poking at an egg he’d cracked on the sidewalk.

“It’s not the same without him,” he mumbled.

“Didn���t you learn anything from the last time?” Sammy asked, starting toward him. “You’re going to get sick-”

“Maybe I won’t this time!” Wally snapped back, his face starting to get red and blotchy as tears sprung up in his eyes. “Henry probably took all the salmonella with him when he hecking LEFT US!” He sniffed loudly, snot starting to leak from his nose. 

Wally was ugly when he cried. Very ugly. He had the sort of crying face that made you both uncomfortable and want to comfort him. Wally had been crying a lot since Henry had left. Sammy couldn’t help but feel awful seeing him like this. Wally was always so bright and cheerful. It felt wrong for him to be so distraught. 

“...Maybe you’re right,” Sammy conceded after a moment. “Look, I’ll...I’ll eat them with you.” Internally, he was kicking himself. He was absolutely going to get sick from this. But the way Wally’s face brightened made him feel better about the Hell he was about to endure. 

“You’re gonna love ‘em! They’re really good!” Wally said as he scooped up the barely cooked egg and presented it to Sammy on a paper plate from the break room.

“It smells...great...” Sammy gritted his teeth and tried to will away the vomit rising in his throat. He gingerly took the plate from Wally, staring down at the runny yellow mess. 

“Should I eat it with my hands?” He asked, poking at it with his finger. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Wally nodded. He watched Sammy expectantly with the air of a puppy who’d just done a good thing. 

“Okay...” Sammy took a deep breath, sliding it into his mouth. It was even worse than he’d expected. How Henry and Wally had managed to eat this without trouble was beyond him. 

“See? It’s good, right?” Wally smiled wider. 

“Mm-hm.” Tears were springing up in Sammy’s eyes. It was just so awful. But he couldn’t make Wally sad. Not after coming so far. He managed to choke it down, although keeping it down proved a challenge. 

He felt sick for most of the day, trying desperately to keep himself from emptying the contents of his stomach. He did end up throwing the eggs back up halfway through the day, though. On his way back from this, he ran into Joey in the hallway. Sammy wasn’t really in the mood to talk, but Joey stopped him anyway. 

“Were you eating eggs off the sidewalk today?” He asked, putting a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sammy replied. He didn’t know how Joey had found out and he didn’t care. He felt like fucking death. 

“Why didn’t you offer me any?” 

“Excuse me?” Sammy blinked, absolutely certain he’d heard wrong. But, no, Joey looked...genuinely hurt he hadn’t shared the sidewalk eggs with him. Of fucking course he was. 

“Hey, Franks?” Sammy yelled over his shoulder, trying to suppress the vomit rising up as he raised his voice. “Joey wants some of your eggs!”

“Aw, gee! Really?” Wally stuck his head inside, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yes, of course!” Joey said, as though half-cooked eggs that tasted like asphalt and dirt was a perfectly normal thing to want. 

“You’re all fucking losers,” Shawn scoffed, striding up from the Toy Department. “I could eat 50 of those things!”

Shawn didn’t come in for two weeks after that, and the next day Sammy, Joey, and Wally were sick as dogs. 

Sammy ended up vomiting into one of his prized violins. His favorite violin. Once he wasn’t in any danger of throwing up again, he took it to a music shop and begged the owner to find some way to restore it. She’d given him a look, but took his money and told him to come back later. He threw up again when he got back to the studio.

Upon coming in and finding Joey, Sammy, and Wally all throwing up into whatever receptacle they could find, Norman knew exactly what had happened.

“Sidewalk eggs again?” He asked, leaning over Sammy. 

“Yeah.” Sammy managed to groan out before violently vomiting into the trashcan he was hunched over. 

“You want some sometime, Norman?” Wally asked from a few feet away where he too was hunched over a trashcan. 

“Um, I’m allergic.” Norman smiled politely. “No thanks.”

“I saw you eating an omelet the other day you fucking liar,” Sammy hissed, clutching the trashcan tighter. Norman vanished as quickly as he could.

When Shawn returned from his 2-week sick leave, he proclaimed that the sidewalk eggs had changed him.

“I’m never gonna eat another egg again,” he said. “Hell, I don’t even wanna see another egg!”

A moment later, with perfect comedic timing, Wally walked up to Shawn.

“Hey, wanna go cook eggs on the sidewalk-” He was cut off by Shawn screaming at the top of his lungs and running away.

Sidewalk eggs were officially banned from the studio after that and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when summer ended and it was no longer hot enough for egg cooking.

.

The legend of the sidewalk eggs didn’t die, though. 

30 years later, sitting in the safehouse with Sammy, Henry found himself longing once more for Wally’s sidewalk eggs. Especially since all he really had to eat was stale bacon soup. 

“Man, I really miss those sidewalk eggs,” he sighed to himself as he stared into his soup can. Sammy looked up from his own can, staring at Henry as though his friend had just gone crazy.

“What?” Henry got a bit defensive. “They were good.”

“Henry, I say this with great love.” Sammy reached out and put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You’re a fucking disgusting little man. Those eggs were the worst thing I ever ate.”

“They were better than this,” Henry insisted, shaking his empty can. “I would take a thousand sidewalk eggs over one more can of bacon soup any day.”

It was at that point that Sammy’s brain seemed to blue-screen and Henry had to change the subject to get Sammy back to normal. He kept bringing up the sidewalk eggs, though, much to Sammy’s growing annoyance.

In fact, Henry brought up the sidewalk eggs so much that Sammy eventually snapped. 

“Those sidewalk eggs-” Henry began, only for Sammy to grab him by his lapels and slam him against the wall. It was actually kind of hot, but Henry tried not to focus on that. A demonic hell-studio wasn’t exactly the best time for being horny.

“Stein, if you say ‘sidewalk eggs’ one more time fucking time I’m shutting you out of the Miracle Station the next time the Ink Demon comes prowling,” Sammy growled, his face inches from Henry’s. 

Henry stared at him. Then, ever so slowly, he smiled. 

“Sidewalk eggs,” he whispered. Sammy muttered some curse and let go, throwing up his hands. 

There was a reason Henry didn’t take Sammy’s threat seriously. Sammy had been particularly snippy due to being trapped in the studio, lashing out in anger more than once. This had to be another one of his empty threats brought on by stress. 

But Sammy had been completely serious. 

And the next time the Ink Demon came around, Henry found himself pounding on the door of the Miracle Station, the heartbeat of the Ink Demon coming ever closer as Sammy casually smoked a cigarette from inside.

“SAMMY COME ON PLEASE! I SAID I WAS SORRY!” Henry wailed as he banged frantically against the door. 

Sammy took a long drag from his cigarette, taking his sweet time and blowing out a cloud of smoke. 

“Those eggs made me throw up in my favorite violin,” he said, holding Henry’s gaze. “It was an antique, Stein. An antique.” 

He did eventually let Henry in because he didn’t actually want his friend to die.

“I fucking hate you so much,” Henry grumbled, sounding more like an upset child than a 50-something man. 

“I did warn you.” Sammy gave him a smirk. 

They stayed in the Miracle Station until the Ink Demon finally left. As they started to get out, Henry, still a bit bitter, muttered under his breath,

“Sidewalk eggs.” 

He hadn’t expected Sammy to hear him.

However, Sammy had heard him and responded by shoving Henry back into the Miracle Station, locking it, and leaving. It was an hour before he came back to let Henry out. 

The sidewalk eggs were not mentioned again.

[leviathanlazarus]

Crazy About You

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 924

Warnings: none; get ready for some hardcore adoration

Requested by the incredible @mountainofthesunn, hope I’ve made all your dreams come true <3 

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You were head over heels for Sam. It started slowly: at first, it was his laugh. You loved his goofy, loud laugh. It caught your attention even more than his appearance did, though you always thought he was beautiful and, in that way, you loved his skin. It was so smooth, so precious to you and, when you two kissed, your heart fluttered at the softness of his cheeks brushing against yours, or his soft lips on your neck. You loved that he pretty much outright refused to wear shoes and, often times, appropriate clothing. You loved that when it was just the two of you, he went around in nothing more than shorts or boxers, so you always felt that soft, warm skin of his. Somehow he always looked and felt like he had just stepped out of the most lavish, clean pool of glossy water. 

The list of things you loved about Sam was pretty much endless and it was hard to keep it to yourself. 

He was next to you on the couch, a movie you really weren’t paying attention to playing on the TV. You were twirling a lock of his hair between your fingers, observing its shine as you moved it, feeling each strand trace along your knuckle, and looking at him far more than you were looking at the screen.

Sam turned, finally noticing your daze, and grinned. “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just like looking at you.”

His grin grew. “What’s your favorite part?”

“Of you? I can’t choose just one.”

“Okay, well, one of the things I like about you,” Sam said, turning on the cushion to face you. “Just physically right now, you know. I really like your mouth.”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, Y/N, listen, okay--your mouth is the perfect shape.” 

You smiled and took another lock of his hair to play with. “I really like your mouth too. You’ve got a nice mouth.”

Sam winked.

“Ha-ha, Sam.”

“I know you like my hair.”

“I do,” you said, nodding. “I’d like it more if you let me braid it.”

“Alright, fine, braid me.”

“Turn around,” you instructed and, when he did, you started to gather his hair, all of it silky smooth between your fingers. “I love your whole face, really.”

“You’re making me blush,” Sam replied and reached his hand back to tickle your waist. You instinctively laughed and shot back on the couch, taking Sam with your by his hair, him growling out a single, “Fuck.” 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Sammy,” you said, voice rising, and let go of his hair. 

He started to laugh, that same laugh you loved so much, and laid down on his back with his head in your lap, gazing up at you.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked.

“Only a little,” Sam replied, extending his arms up. “Kiss to make it better.”

You rolled your eyes again but you actually really loved when Sam wanted some babying. You bent down and kissed his forehead, then he coerced you down further, your mouth clumsily trailing over his nose and then to his lips. He met the inelegant kiss gently at first, then slid his tongue up and into your mouth and you pulled away. 

“I don’t even wanna know what that looked like from an outsider’s perspective,” you remarked, laughing. 

“Hot, I bet,” Sam replied, nestling further into your lap and shutting his eyes. “You can go back to braiding my hair now.”

“Oh, can I?”

Sam merely smirked in response. You resumed, holding up a section of his hair and parted it, working on a little braid that would fall above his ear. 

“I like when you play with my hair,” Sam murmured. 

“I’m gonna do multiple braids,” you announced. “I can’t wait to show everyone.”

“Who’s ‘everyone?’”

“All my friends, they all know I’ve been dying to do this,” you said, almost done with the first braid. “They actually get so annoyed with how much I talk about you sometimes.”

Sam laughed again; your heart flipped. “Really?”

“Yeah. They must be pretty annoyed considering they’ve actually told me it’s annoying,” you said, starting another braid. “But I’m just really crazy about you.”

Sam opened his eyes then and laughed for a second. “Crazy about me, huh?”

“Yes, you crazy kid--crazy about you.”

Sam rolled over and buried his face in your lap, nuzzling your inner thigh, his hair a mess across your legs. “I’m crazy about you too,” was the muffled response before he sat up and smiled at you, his hands placed on your knees.

You leaned forward and Sam grabbed you, hurriedly placing his lips on yours. The kiss was deep and soft, both of you lingering on each others mouths, Sam’s hand moving to the side of your neck, and he ran his thumb over your throat. 

You slowly pulled back, then gave him another quick peck. “Let me do a few more. I wanna annoy my friends tonight.” Sam obliged, turning his back to you and relaxing between your knees. The scent of his hair--like sweat, smoke and a hint of patchouli--drifted into your face as you ran your fingers through it, doing your best to untangle it. Again you watched how its color shifted and how it shone in the light, how much it felt like satin against your skin, and again you listed all the things you loved about him in your head. You weren’t even done making the list by the time you’d finished braiding his hair. 

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Forgot to do my taglist earlier like a dumbass: @jeordinevankiszka @mountainofthesunn @bigthighsandstupidguys @camomillacatalina @saywecanart @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade