#sam's wounded little face augh!! kisses her cheeks

[ardentpoop]

this scene is very self-indulgent fix-it fic but i kinda don't care bc sam so rarely gets any type of closure (esp compared to dean) that it feels Really Good to hear john apologize to him. one of the most "messed-up things" john ever did was choose not to say goodbye to sam before he died.

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

Stay

A/N: This was a request from the sweet @roonyxx. Thank you for requesting!

Prompt: Can you do a Dean x reader, where they are on a hunt with Sam, and the reader saves them, but gets heavily injured by it and passes out, and then Dean gets scared of losing her, but she makes it in the end. Some angst, fluff kinda stuff.

Hope you like it!

Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer!

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Dean x reader, Sam

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, angst, language

Dean huffed as he tried to loosen the ropes, that tied him to the chair – he could feel Sam behind him as well, but he hadn’t said a word or made a sound, so he was sure, Sam was passed out. Fucking great. He groaned as he tried again, his wrists already burning from the tight rope.

A low hiss came from his left, and he looked over, his eyes searching the dimly lit room – a figure stood, shrouded in shadows.

“And you are?” He asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm. He hadn’t seen Y/N, and could only hope she hadn’t been caught; he made a quick decision to keep the guy talking, at least to buy himself some time to wriggle out, or to buy Y/N some time to chop some heads. A hiss sounded again.

“Ah, not the talkative type, cool, cool. Uhm… Where are we?” In a split second, the figure was in front of his face, long, grimy hair clinging to the sunken face; a stale smell hung around the guy and when he exhaled, a sick smell of rot hit Dean’s nostrils.

“Augh, man, brush much?” He gagged, and his ears picked up a sound from the outside – it was like a muffled shout. Y/N.

“You don’t get to ask us questions. You came to kill us.” The man hissed. Dean rolled his eyes. “yeah, mostly because you guys keep killing teenagers.” The man huffed.

“Teenagers. The most annoying part of humanity.” The man scanned Dean and noticed his struggle with the ropes. He grinned maliciously before stepping forward, leaning in over Dean. His let a grimy finger swipe across the bead of sweat on Dean’s forehead. “You will taste so sweet.” He snarled, before gripping Dean’s hair to twist his head to the side but stopped in his tracks.

A scream sounded from the door and both men looked towards the sound – Dean felt elated, whereas he could see the worry grow in the nameless vampire.

The door got flung open with a loud crash, and the light flooded the room; Y/N stood in the doorway, a machete dripping with blood and a vicious smile on her lips. The nameless vampire looked around, seemingly searching for an exit, but he was too late; Y/N had stalked over to him and in one swift motion cut his head off, even before he knew what had happened.

“Dean.” She sighed, quickly untying the ropes around his wrists. “You idiot. I told you it was an ambush!” She said before gently kissing his forehead, the ropes falling away. “I’m your idiot, though.” Dean grinned as he rubbed his wrists. “Get Sam, I’ll scout the building for survivors.” She said gently, and she sped off, flying up the stairs to the second floor. Dean rose Sam, a bit worried about the gash on the side of his head, still oozing blood. Sam looked confused but accepted that Y/N had come to their rescue.

“Wait, you let her go off alone? Dean!” Sam tried to scold him, but his voice was weak. “Save it for later, Sammy, we gotta get you to the car.” He hooked his arm around Sam’s waist, half-dragging him out of the small farm-house to the impala.

As he put Sam down on the backseat (Sam groaning angrily at being manhandled), he stretched up to look around – she should have been back by now. He scanned the area, but everything seemed too quiet, and he could feel the hairs in the back of his neck stand up. Something was wrong. Sam mumbled something, and Dean bent down to hear him.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a head-wound, it already stopped bleeding, promise. Go find her.” He said – Dean looked into Sam’s eyes, but saw nothing but determination. He believed him.

He was already starting to walk towards the house, when a figure came out of the front door, hobbling, hunched over and her arm wrapped around her waist. Dread filled Dean’s body. No. He ran towards her, and he could barely hear her weak whisper of his name, before she collapsed, and he barely caught her. She was pale, almost white, and when he lifted her up, he noticed the warm, slick sensation under his hands; she was bleeding, and bleeding a lot, by the feel of it. Her arms hung limply from her side, and Dean sped up, running panicked towards the car. “SAM! Sam, you need to drive! NOW!” He screamed at his brother, who scrambled to move to the front seat – Dean knew it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to let Sam, who was probably concussed, drive, but he couldn’t leave her. Not now. Not ever.

“Dean… She’s…” Sam started, but Dean glared at him, shutting him up. “Drive, for fucks sake, Sam!” The impala sped off, dirt and gravel flying up behind them.

Dean was staring at her face, trying to find a little color, and her head was in his lap; she felt cold and small, so fucking fragile in his arms, and he could barely see her chest rising and falling. “Faster, Sam. Get us to the nearest hospital.” He snarled. He knew it wasn’t Sam’s fault, but he needed to put his anger to good use somewhere – Sam didn’t say anything, but merely sped up, the car flying down the road.

“Ten minutes, Dean.” Sam said in a hushed, panicked voice. Dean looked down at Y/N, his eyes swimming.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can’t do this now. We still got a whole bunch of crap, we need to do.” He caressed her cheek, smearing a little blood on her cheek; it looked wrong. Blood on her looked wrong. “We still need to try everything in Biggerson’s. You promised. We haven’t had kids yet, which is never something we actually talked about, but I know you want. I’ve just been too afraid, sweetheart.” Dean caught Sam’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, but Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded slightly. “Keep talking, it might keep her awake.”

Dean looked back down at Y/N, and he wished he could see her eyes again. He needed her eyes to be blinking, bright and alive, open to glare at his stupid jokes. He needed her lips to smile at him, or to hear them form the words I love you before kissing him. He needed her alive. “I’ve never been good with words, you know this, baby. Remember, when I asked you out? I told you that you looked a little fat in your jeans, but I meant like a good kind of fat. Remember how you laughed at me? You told me I was a dick, but you could be persuaded to change your mind, if I picked you up and paid for dinner.” Was it his imagination, or did her lips twitch? He kept a steady watch on her chest, making sure she was still breathing; it was barely noticeable.

“I love you. I do, so much. We still have so much left. We could get married. Right now. I want to be married to you and have kids with you. We still have a bet on Sam, remember? I can’t win, if you’re dead.” His voice cracked at the last word, and he couldn’t see anymore – his eyes were full of unshed tears, his hands finding no purpose anywhere; he was so scared of losing her. “You can’t leave yet. I can’t do this without you. Please, saty alive for me, baby.”

“Almost there, Dean.” Sam’s voice sounded weak and scared as well. Dean looked at her, and his breathing stopped – he couldn’t see her chest rising and falling anymore, she was still, and the blood was still ebbing from her side; she looked to be stabbed, his hand was covering the wound, but the blood kept fucking flowing – it was pulsing out of her, and he didn’t know what to do. “SAM!” He screamed for his brother, but it was futile; they were already on the parking lot, the tires screeching to a halt, Sam jumping up of the front, opening the door behind Dean. “Dean, let’s go!” His voice brought Dean back, and he was hauling her gently from the backseat, carrying her in his arms, blood smearing on his shirt, but he didn’t care – all he cared about was her still chest, and Sam’s back in front of him, both of them running fast.

“We need help!” Sam and Dean shouted, and nurses rushed to their side; one went straight to Sam, dragging him down on a bed, examining his head-wound. A slew of nurses ran to Dean.

“She was stabbed. Please, I don’t think she’s...” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t speak anymore. The coaxed her out of his arms, flying down a bright hallway with her in a bed, leaving Dean standing in the middle of the ER with blood on his hands, and his mind in shambles.

 “You can see her now.” A gentle, female voice sounded, and Dean looked up at her. His eyes were red, and they were stinging – he had finally run out of tears. Sam patted his shoulder in sympathy; thankfully, Sam had only suffered a minor trauma, his head-wound looking worse than it was.

“Come on. We gotta do it, man.” Sam said in a sad voice. Dean nodded and stood up, but he held Sam back.

“Can I… Can I go alone? Just for a few minutes?” His voice sounded so wrong. Muffled and weak. Sam smiled a little, half-smile, his eyes sad. “Of course, man, whatever you need.” He sat down again, cradling the cup of coffee in his hands. Dean heaved a deep breath and followed the nurse towards a single room.

She was there. So still and she looked wrong in this place – all the white, clinical stuff didn’t match her at all, and she looked smaller than she was. Fragile. Her eyes were closed, and her skin pale. Her hair was splayed out in the pillow, and Dean chuckled a little; if she knew, she’d be pissed. Her hair always got tangled, when it was like that.

He sat down on the stool next to her bed and took her hand – her nails were the color of a deep midnight sky, and he idly wondered when she had time to do that, but he got pulled out of his own head, when a low groan came from her. He looked up at her, and she had her eyes cracked open. He didn’t know what to do – he had thought he’d never see her eyes again, never hear a sound from her again. “Water.” She mumbled, and he quickly spotted the tray with a glass and a pitcher, pouring her a glass of water and put a straw in it. He held it as she sucked on the straw, moaning slightly when she had her fill.

He sat down again, staring at her. He wanted to imprint her every detail, every freckle, scar and line. He wanted to be able to see and remember everything about her. Her small hand came to rest on top of his, and he idly looked down at it.

“You died. Several times.” He mumbled. It had been the worst four hours in his life, hearing the insistent beeping of the monitors, hearing her slip in and out of life.

“But I didn’t.” She said in a small voice. He looked back at her. “I was so fucking scared, Y/N. You scared me so much, baby. I thought I lost you, that we would never…” He broke off, unable to continue.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t see the last one… He jumped me.” She said, closing her eyes. “I don’t care how you got hurt, I care that you got hurt. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there.” He whispered to her. Her eyes snapped open and she glared at him; his heart thumped in his chest – he never thought he was going to see that glare ever again, and despite the anger behind her eyes, he couldn’t help but smile a little.

“You listen to me, Dean Winchester. This wasn’t your fault, you hear me? I was stupid, and I didn’t scout the room before I went all the way in, and it wasn’t your fault. You need to stop doing this every time I get hurt. Even if it’s just a bruise, you blame yourself, but it’s not you.” She sighed. “Dean, I love you. I’m okay, we’re okay. I’m alive, and that’s because of you. You saved me, just like you always do.” His eyes were swimming with tears again. He damned himself a little, never one for displaying that much emotion.

He leaned over and kissed her gently on her lips, savoring the feeling of her lips being warm and her being alive.

“You know what, when you get out of here, we’re getting married. And we’re going to have a bunch of kids and eat every single item on the Biggerson’s menu.” He said in a hushed voice. She laughed a little.

“If that’s you proposing, you have another thing coming. I need the whole shebang, on your knees, a ring and all that crap.” He grinned at her and kissed the top of her hand.

“Let’s get Sam in here, I can see him tripping from the window.” She whispered. “But, just for the record” she said, as she waved at Sam, “I’ll definitely marry you as soon as I get out of here.”

 TAGLIST: @hobby27, @trustnobodyshootfirst, @wingedcatninja, @supernatural-idjit-95, @polina-93

FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk, @redeyedvixen, @al1y, @roonyxx, @sea040561, @heyitscam99

[lizziebathory42]

Stardew Valley Stories

A one-shot ficlet. Sebastian/Fem. Farmer. Sebastian, Abby and Sam convince the Farmer to wear a GoPro while in the mines.

Sebastian opened his bleary eyes slowly. The glowing display of his clock told him it was late afternoon. He threw off the blankets, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He’d been up late finishing a project and still felt fuzzy. Yawning hugely, he made his way up the stairs, heading for the kitchen and some brain clearing caffeine.

“Sebby!” His mother called from her counter. He winced. He hated the childish nickname but had given up on asking his stubborn mother to call him his preferred Seb or the more mature, Sebastian. He turned to walk into the foyer, the smells of cut wood and sap drifting up to meet him.

“The Farmer dropped this off for you this morning,” She said, gesturing to a small cloth sack sitting on her countertop. Sebastian frowned, taking the bag and glancing inside. It was the GoPro he’d lent her. He grinned suddenly.

“Thanks mom!” He leaned over the counter and kissed her cheek, “Would you like a coffee?” Robin shook her head, lifting her almost full mug from behind her cash register.

“No thanks sweetie.” She replied. Sebastian didn’t see her eyes narrow as he entered the hallway, or the worried look she gave his retreating back as he took his coffee and bag into the basement. Robin was concerned by how much time the Farmer seemed to be spending with her son. She knew her son was sensitive, perhaps a bit sheltered and worried the city slicker who’d moved into the abandoned farm would break his heart when she inevitably left Stardew Valley.

Sebastian, blissfully unaware of the worry happening on his behalf upstairs, sat down at his computer. He took a long draught of his coffee, set the mug aside and opened the rough bag. Inside he found the small, square camera, the mounting plate he’d screwed onto the Farmer’s mining helmet and a note tied to what felt like a rock. He pulled the knot apart, smoothing the note out. She had tied it to a Yeti Tear.

He held the small, smooth white stone in his hand while he read the short note. He liked the way the stone glittered, like rainbows were caught in the crystalline material. It amazed him how it stayed cool, almost cold, no matter how hot it was outside. The writing of the note was crabbed and spidery, as if the writer was in a great hurry to get their thoughts down. There was a mysterious green smudge on one corner of the crumpled paper.

S,

I tried to clean the gunk off your camera, sorry.

                               -F

Sebastian looked closer at the camera. Sure enough, in the crevices he could detect crusty remains of something. He shrugged, the device was designed to get dirty. It was just like the Farmer to be concerned about returning it in less than pristine condition. He chuckled softly to himself as he connected the device to his computer and imported the video file.

He’d gotten to know the pretty farmer over the past few months. She would often come to visit him after doing business with his mother, bringing him fresh carp sashimi and sitting with him as he ate. They would talk about comic books and computer games for hours. Sebastian didn’t take it too seriously. The rumours around town were that the Farmer brought everyone gifts. It didn’t mean anything special. They were just friends anyway. He appreciated how she would leave him alone if he told her he was working. She was one of his few friends who seemed to respect his job.

A small window popped up on his computer screen, indicating the video had been completely loaded.  It was one hundred minutes long. He double clicked and opened the video, making the small window full-screen so he could watch comfortably.

The video began pointed into the Farmer’s face, her brow furrowed in concentration. The view was a blur of stones, then the inside of the rickety elevator. Sebastian had only ever seen it from the outside, when he’d wandered into the entrance of the mine out of curiosity. Now he watched as the Farmer pried the doors open, stepped in and pressed one of the glowing buttons. This one was labelled 70, the small black number standing out against the shining yellow button.

The elevator made an awful racket, clanking and chuffing as it descended, but Sebastian was pretty sure he could hear the Farmer humming the Flower Dance. He thought about how last year she’d asked him to dance and he’d turned her down, not knowing the newcomer well enough. Oh how things had changed!

It was only last Friday when she had been sitting with Abigail as he and Sam had their weekly pool match.

“Oh,” Abigail had cried suddenly, “I wish I could get that deep in the mines! I would love to see what it looks like down there and all the delicious minerals you’d find!” The Farmer had only chuckled, shaking her head.

“It’s very dangerous that deep, Abby.” She said, “You’ll need a lot more sword practice before you go.” Abigail had pouted and flicked her purple hair over one shoulder. Sebastian loved his friend, but she was still as bratty as when they had been little kids catching frogs together.

“Maybe you could, like, film it or something.” Sam suggested from across the pool table. The Farmer lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, still smiling.

“I don’t have a camera,” She admitted, “and I don’t think I could film and mine at the same time.” She had shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable. Sebastian felt bad for his two friends putting her on the spot. Before he could change the subject, Sam was continuing.

“Seb has a camera you can mount to your head or chest.” Sam blushed pink on the last word. The Farmer hid a smile. Sebastian knew his friend had a crush on the Farmer, he wondered if she knew it too. “It’s waterproof and really small, so it shouldn’t get in your way.” She turned her large, soft eyes on Sebastian then. They were shining with curiosity.

“That sounds neat! I wouldn’t mind filming,” she said, “but if Seb doesn’t want to lend it out I’d understand.” Sebastian had shrugged, keeping his face carefully neutral.

“I don’t mind.” He said, casually lining up a shot. “I can bring it over tomorrow, show you how to set it up.” He didn’t want to admit it, but he too was curious to see the deep innards of the mines and wanted to watch the Farmer in action.

He was getting his wish now. The first level she stepped out in had been fairly tame. The angle of the camera allowed him to only really see her hands, giving the film a first-person shooter video game feel. He watched as she smashed rock after rock with her steel pickaxe. No wonder she was hard with muscle! She picked up a silvery ore and a plain looking blue rock, tucking them behind her, into her backpack. She smashed another rock, splintering it in half with one strike. The pieces fell down a dark hole. She climbed down without hesitation.

In that dark moment, Sebastian could hear her still humming softly. Then she emerged into the light. For a moment, he thought he was seeing things. There were small, bouncing black rocks approaching. There was a sharp noise and suddenly the Farmer was holding a glittering black sword. She dispatched the odd creatures with a few swipes, stooping to pick up the coal one dropped.

Large, transparent blue gelatinous blobs attacked next. The Farmer was looking down, so Sebastian saw when one hit her leg, searing through the overalls with a blurp and a puff of smoke. He saw the raw, burned looking skin where it hit her leg through the hole in the fabric. She was still fending off the last blob when he heard a loud screech. She turned quickly, her sword flashing. He saw the bat, as large as a housecat, cleaved in two by the obsidian blade.

“Augh!” She cried turning to swipe at the remaining blob. It burst into liquid goo. Sebastian’s stomach roiled when she reached into the goo to pull out a weathered looking scroll tied with a yellow ribbon. Sebastian felt like he was going to be sick. This wasn’t like a video game. This was his friend and in real life. She could be hurt or worse while down there. Still, he couldn’t look away or stop the video.

She cleared the rest of the level, smashing rocks and fighting two more slimes before finding another hole to climb down.

With each passing minute Sebastian felt his anxiety for the Farmer rising. Logically, he knew she had to have made it out, but it didn’t stop him from squeezing the stone in his hand so tight he felt its cold point pierce his skin. He watched as she broke apart skeletons, like those he admired at the Spirit’s Eve Festival, who tore bones from their own bodies to fling them at her. He saw her chase a ghost, cleaving it over and over until it disappeared with a poof, leaving a glittering gold rock which she quickly snatched.

In another moment, she notice something tucked in a corner, smashed a path to it and picked it up. It was a frozen tear, like the one he held in his hand. It might even be the same one, he thought, suddenly feeling as cold as the stone in his hand.

His heart stopped when she was attacked by no less than six blobs at once. Her humming had ceased, replaced by grunts of effort and hisses of pain. She managed to render all six into steaming puddles before she collapsed. Sebastian’s heart, which suddenly beat again, was in his throat, choking him.

He watched, unable to look away as she pulled a container of blackberries out and ate the whole thing. She gave him a good look at her wounds as she examined them herself, patching what she could with duck-tape. Her legs were burned raw, a large gash had been opened in her side from a skeleton’s bone boomerang.

Sebastian checked the time remaining on the video. An hour left. He took a sip of his coffee, his hand shaking. His drink had gone cold, but he didn’t care. He needed something, his mouth suddenly having gone dry. He was given a brief respite when the next level held nothing but an entrance to the elevator and a ladder leading down.

The next hour passed slowly. Sebastian watched, agonized, as the Farmer fought nightmarish creatures, dodging glowing green projectiles or darts of flame which bounced off walls to come at you again. She was fearless, breaking rocks apart to gather the gold ore even as shadow creatures approached from the periphery. Occasionally she would stop to eat and tend her wounds.

Sebastian thought of how he’d invited her to join their fantasy game in this very room. How childish it must have seemed to her, to pretend to fight monsters. Sure she had looked like she was having fun, but she was probably just humouring them. Humouring him. His game was nothing like the messy, painful chaos he was witnessing.

In the end, he didn’t see her leave the mines, the video simply stopped with her breaking stone after stone. He stared at the final, frozen frame, the Farmer’s pickaxe a silver blur. The small stone in his hand felt heavy, as if his knowledge of the blood spilt to get it made it weightier. More significant, more precious. He got up suddenly, his paralysis over.

He needed to find the Farmer. Now. He needed to make sure she was okay.

Sebastian’s legs felt wooden as he walked up the stairs. As if drawn by his need, the Farmer was there, chatting casually with Maru in the lab. Her smile swiftly changed to concern when she saw Sebastian’s face. She excused herself from Maru, taking Sebastian’s arm and leading him outside. She said nothing, only glanced at him with worry in her eyes.

He couldn’t stop staring at her. She was okay. He couldn’t see any evidence of her being hurt. She didn’t even limp. He lightly touched her side, where he’d seen a bone split her flesh. He could feel a bandage under her thin t-shirt. For a moment, he’d wondered if she was even real. How could someone be so thoughtful, kind and beautiful as well as a savage warrior? She stopped at the shore of the lake and turned him to face her.

“You watched the video?” She asked, rubbing his arms lightly. Sebastian realized he was shivering. He nodded, not trusting his voice. “I’m sorry if it scared you.” She said, sliding her arms around him in a comforting embrace. He shook his head, clearing his throat.

“It-It didn’t-“ He cleared his throat again, very conscious of the small, hard body of the Farmer pressed against his own. “It didn’t scare me, not like that.” She looked up at him quizzically.

“I mean,” he began, “I wasn’t scared of the monsters and stuff. It was just…” he paused, his hands making small circles on her back. He hadn’t realized he was holding her until now.

It occurred to him in a flash. He cared for the Farmer. Really, really cared. It was more than a little terrifying. He might be in love with this wild creature.

“It was brutal watching you get hurt,“ He swallowed hard, “and keep going. You’re a real tank.” He joked weakly. She winked broadly at him.

“I sure am, Sebbo.”

He held her tightly, conscious of her hidden wounds.

“I don’t think we should show Sam and Abby then,” she continued, “I don’t want to be blamed for nightmares.” Sebastian nodded. He wanted to ask her to never go into the mines again, wanted to keep holding her safe in his arms forever. He knew she had to, she needed the ore and stone for her farm. He knew he was being foolish but he couldn’t stop from asking her to be extra careful in the mines.

“Sure sweetheart,” she said, giving him a little squeeze, “I’ll be extra careful for you.” Sebastian didn’t want to examine the way his heart leapt in his chest at the endearment so he contented himself with holding her as long as she would let him.