#sammy come home or whatever he said

[femmefaggot]

kfam wasnt good but thinking about them nonetheless

[percyluvr]

sam winchester x fem!witch!reader summary: you're unaware of your witchy heritage, or even the existence of the supernatural, until two hunters come waltzing into your life claiming that you and your mother are witches wc: 9802 warning: pre-bunker era supernatural, violence (not a lot but enough to warrant a warning, i think), not proofread dedicated to my only (i think) pjo + spn moot, skye

“You’re up early, Sammy,” Dean says, looking into the doorway at his brother wiping sweat off his forehead. “And sweaty.”

“Yeah, I went for a jog. You should try it, it’s good for you. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

“Right, no thank you. Sleep is essential to keep looking this good.”

“Alright, man, if you say so,” Sam replies, disgust apparent on his face.

“Whatever. Listen to this,” Dean starts. “A middle-aged woman in Tupelo, Mississippi, was found dead last night with all of her teeth missing, and some freaky ass carving of some horned thing on her chest. Her husband came home and found her lying on the bathroom floor. Apparently she didn’t die until after she made it to the hospital, though, so whoever or whatever did this wanted it to be long and painful.”

“Huh. Sounds creepy.”

“Exactly. So what do you think? Our kind of gig?” Dean asks, fully knowing they were going to go find out either way.

“Yeah, definitely. Y’wanna head out now or get something to eat?”

“I’m hungry as hell. I need a burger before we deal with this.”

“I feel you. Well, not the burger part, but I’m definitely gonna need food before we head out.”

“Let’s hit the town then, see what there is to eat here,” Dean says, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it over his shoulders before walking out the door, Sam following after grabbing his laptop and jacket of his own.

****

After driving for a bit, they find a small, semi-trashy diner.

"I can't believe this is the only decent looking place in this whole town," Dean complains.

"I mean, what do you expect? We're in a town with a population below three thousand."

"Right. The food better be good or else I'll be pissed. Give me that menu," he grumpily demanded.

"Their salad looks good."

"Yeah, real funny. I'm gonna get that special edition deluxe baconator," Dean said excitedly, mood immediately improving at the sight of a greasy burger on the menu.

Sam makes a face, about to say something, but is interrupted by the waitress arriving at the table.

"You boys ready to order or do you need more time?" She asks, eyeing Dean.

"Oh, we're ready," Dean flirts.

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'll get the, uh, shake it up salad."

"Okay, and for you?" She asks Dean.

"I'll get that deluxe baconator."

"Got it, I'll be back in a sec."

She starts walking away, Dean eyeing her every step of the way.

"Seriously, dude?" Sam asks in disgust.

"Yeah, look at her, dude. Tell me you don't want a piece of that."

"Alright, man, enough. As soon as we finish we're getting right out of here, no flirting."

"Whatever. Don't be jealous you never get laid."

Sam rolls his eyes as the waitress walks over with a salad in one hand and Dean's burger in the other.

"Thank you," Dean says, giving her a wink. Sam sighs exasperatedly for what feels like the six hundredth time today.

"You've got to stop that."

"Stop what? I'm just appreciating the beauties of the world."

"Yeah, I'm ignoring you now. Eat your food so we can go."

"Who died and made you boss?" Dean mutters.

Sam ignores him, and proceeds to wolf down his salad.

"Little hungry there?" Dean asks.

"Last time I checked, I was the one that went for a three mile jog this morning, not you, so I'll eat all I want, thanks."

"Just asking, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Whatever, I'm done eating."

Dean wolfs down the rest of his greasy, and in Sam's opinion, disgusting burger, managing to nearly choke on it twice, then stands up and walks toward the counter. He turns around and mouths 'getting her number,' and raises his eyebrows twice at Sam, who just rolls his eyes in response.

Sam shakes his head and walks out to the Impala, assuming that Dean is flirting, with a side of paying for their breakfast.

He opens the shiny black door of his brother's 1967 Chevy Impala and sits down on the beige seat, looking out the window at the diner. Moments later, the door opens and Sam sees Dean’s smug smile and a small piece of paper being waved around in the air.

When Dean sits down in his car, he immediately looks at Sam. “And that is how it’s done by a true master of charm,” he boasts, putting the key in the ignition and shifting to reverse.

“Good for you. I can get girls’ numbers too, y’know. I’m not celibate, or whatever crap you call me.”

“Sure, Sammy. Whatever makes you feel better. But if you really think you can get a girl’s number instead of me, you’re mistaken. So, whoever gets the number of the hottest girl wins.”

“That’s stupid, I’m not doing that.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t see. I’m focusing on the case.”

Sam sees Dean smirk in response as they pull out of the parking lot. He clenches his jaw in annoyance.

****

Halfway on the way to Tupelo, Sam asks, “So what do you think we’re looking at here? ‘S not everyday we work a job like this.”

“Honestly? No idea. Not a big fan of the carving on the chest, either. Never seen a symbol like that before.” 

"Great," Sam grumbles, and for the rest of the car ride his thoughts were full of possibilities of what they could be hunting.

****

Four hours later, the Impala rolls into Tupelo, and the first building they see is a fairly decent looking motel, which they decide to spend the night in. After checking into the motel, they carry their bags into the room, immediately grabbing out their fake FBI badges and cheap costume suits.

After quickly changing, they head out to the Impala. “Ready to see every dentist’s nightmare?” Dean jokes.

“Actually, pretty sure that would be you. I can’t remember a day where you didn’t eat some kind of candy or tooth rotting food,” Sam says. “Or even brushed your teeth for that matter.”

“Dude, I brush my teeth.” Sam raises his eyebrow. “Sometimes.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, right. Your breath smells like a dead person.”

****

Dean parks the Impala in front of a white two-story house in some, as Dean says, stuffy suburban neighborhood. They get out of the car and walk over to the house, Sam knocking on the front door.

A man, the woman's husband, Sam assumes, opens the door.

“Mr. Feezerman, we'd like to talk to you about your wife,” Sam says, flashing his fake badge.

“Thank God the FBI is involved. The cops here have no idea what's going on. Come in,” Mr Feezerman says, gesturing for them to come in.

Dean sits down on the couch, leaving Sam standing next to it.

“Mr. Feezerman, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Go right ahead. It’s upstairs, the second door on the left.”

“Thanks,” Sam says with a little nod of his head.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Sam searches through the drawers for a hex bag, but comes up empty. He moves onto checking the cabinet below the sink, but still nothing. He finally looks in the medicine cabinet and finds a small brown cloth tied together by a leather string.

"Damn it," he grumbles.

He grabs the bag and heads back downstairs after putting it in his pocket.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and sees Dean turn to look at him. Sam gives him a nod indicating his search was successful.

"Alright, that's all, thank you, Mr. Feezerman," Dean says.

****

"Alright, so what are we thinking?" Dean asks.

"Well, based on the hex bag I found, I'm thinking witch. And not some beginner level witchcraft, either, dude. I'm talking ancient witchcraft, warts, wrinkles, and all."

"Awesome," Dean groans.

"Yeah. And I'm thinking it's not just one witch, either. Witches this strong usually form covens to protect themselves."

"Awesome times two," Dean says, furrowing his eyebrows and grimacing.

"Well, what did you get? She have any enemies?"

"Her husband said that her and some of the other prissy ladies were in some sort of book club or whatever he said, I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about that waitress from before,” Dean says dreamily.

“Dude, focus.”

“Right, anyways. Apparently, he found out through some lady she was friends with that she was cheating on her husband with one of the other lady’s husbands. Say that five times fast.”

“Sounds complicated, but also like we have some clear suspects.”

“Right. The book club or wine club or whatever it is these trophy wives do with their free time.”

“Dude, chill with the ‘I hate cookie-cutter families’ thing.”

“My bad.”

“You wanna head to the morgue or talk to suspects?”

“I’ll go to the morgue, you talk to suspects. I can’t handle any more of these people.”

“Alright. Did you get any names or addresses?”

“Obviously. This isn’t my first hunt,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, man. Take me to the first house.”

****

When they reach the first house, Sam gets out of the car.

“Meet back here in 30?” Sam asks.

“Uhh, y’know what? I think I’ll come with.” 

“What happened to not being able to handle any more of these people today?”

“Well that is one cougar just begging to be tamed,” Dean says, eyeing up the woman sitting on the porch.

“Disgusting, seriously.”

“Don’t hate the player.”

“Shut up.”

They walk up the pathway and up the stairs. When they reach the porch, the blonde woman gets up from her spot on the swing.

“Hello, boys, how can I help you?” She asks.

“FBI, we have a few questions about Amelia Feezerman,” Dean says, holding up his fake badge.

“Oh, dear. Come inside, then,” she says, leading them inside to the living room.

“So, nice place you got here,” Sam says.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, and before she can continue, Sam hears the pitter-patter of feet on the floor. “Honey, the cookies look delicious. Hopefully you two like chocolate chocolate chip.”

“Oh, I’m not really a sugar pers-“ Sam starts to say, but when he sees the woman standing in front of him, he quickly changes his mind. “But it doesn’t hurt occasionally.”

“Good, it’d be a shame if these cookies went to waste,” you say, winking at him.

“Like mother like daughter, damn,” Dean says under his breath.

Sam elbows him. “Knock it off,” he hissed.

“Before you two leave, let me know how the cookies are,” you say, gaze lingering on Sam before you walk out of the living room and back into the kitchen.

“We will,” Sam says, making ‘goo-goo eyes’, as Dean later calls them, at you.

“Dude, go in there and talk to her, I’ll talk to the mom here,” Dean says lowly to Sam, who nods in response and follows you into the kitchen.

The unfamiliar sound of footsteps prompts you to turn around, surprised to see the, in your opinion, cuter agent following you into the kitchen.

“Hello, agent,” you say with a grin.

“Hey, I’m Sam,” he shyly responds.

“Well, Sam, what did you think of the cookies?” You ask eagerly.

“They were really good. I’m really a sweets type of person, but you surprised me,” he compliments, the crinkling of his eyes serving as an effect of the wide smile gracing his face. You think that his smile makes him at least five times cuter, but you decide to keep that to yourself, for now at least.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad to contribute to the conversion of you into a dessert lover,” you joke, earning another beautiful smile from him.

“So, I’m not exactly here to talk about your cookies, however delicious they may be,” he admits, albeit a bit nervously for someone in the FBI, you think.

You raise an eyebrow. “How can I help you, then?”

“Have you heard about the death of Amelia Feezerman?” Your eyes widen, and you nearly choke on the cookie you were eating.

“What? Oh my God, no, I had no idea.”

“Ah, so you wouldn’t happen to know anything about her death?” He questions.

“Um, no? Why would I know anything about that?” You wearily ask.

“We thought that maybe you would know if there was any reason that anyone would want to hurt her.”

“Well, I didn’t really know her all that well. I know that she was in some book club thing with my mom, but that’s about it,” you say, crossing your arms. “Actually, I did hear that she was getting it on with some of her friends’ husbands.”

“Yeah, we know that,” Sam begins, “wait, plural husbands?”

“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “She’d get with anything that breathes.”

“I see. So do you think any of these women would want to get revenge on her for that?”

“Oh, definitely. Some of these women are vicious. Rich women are some of the craziest people I’ve ever met, so glad I’m only back for three months,” you snicker.

Sam laughs. “So, you in college, then?” 

“Yeah, I’m in my third year, just home for the summer,” you explained.

“Yeah? You enjoying college?”

“Partially, I mean sometimes I miss my mom, but then I remember that visiting her means having to come back here, and I’m over it immediately,” you sheepishly admit.

“Really? It doesn’t seem too bad here, other than the death,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I guess you haven’t seen how people really are here.”

“How do you mean?”

“I guess I just mean that people here are petty and would do anything to get back at anyone for the smallest stuff,” you say sadly. “Especially some of my mom’s friends.”

You take the look on Sam’s face as an incentive to continue, “her friends are like, money obsessed, and if any other woman gets close to their husbands, somehow they’re mysteriously gone within the month. It’s kind of freaky, to be honest.”

Sam clenches his jaw as Dean walks into the kitchen.

"You ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a second.”

Dean gives him a look, but nods and leaves the kitchen.

“Give me a call if you can think of anything else that might be relevant to the case,” Sam says, handing a card with his FBI phone number on it to you.

“Will do,” you say, winking at him.

****

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asks.

“Well, apparently this isn’t the first time this has happened here. According to her, multiple women go missing every year, all women that have gotten too close to the husbands of these book club ladies.”

“So we’re looking at a coven full of snotty rich women?” Dean complains, shoulders sagging.

“Guess so.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad for you though, Sammy. Don’t think I didn’t see you laying down the nerdy charm in there,” he jokes.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Sam defends. “I was just getting information and she happened to be pretty and conversational.”

“Sure, Sammy, sure.”

****

Before heading back to the motel room, Sam and Dean decide to stop by a restaurant for dinner.

“Dude, don’t tell me you’re gonna get another salad. You need some real food.”

“Like what? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure what you eat wouldn’t be classified as ‘real food’ either.”

“It’d be closer to real food than the shit you eat. You eat rabbit food, I eat manly food,” Dean argues.

“‘Manly food?’ How is it manly? It’s just greasy and disgusting. You’re gonna get a clogged artery in like 3 months because of it.”

“Whatever, I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

Sam shakes his head and goes back to looking at the menu.

Sam’s menu browsing is interrupted by a familiar voice. “Can I get you two started with a drink?” 

He looks up to find you looking somehow just as beautiful in a waitress uniform, looking at him with stars in your eyes and a grin gracing your features.

“Well, hello again, agent. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were stalking me,” you playfully say, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Hey, again. And yeah, I’ll just have a water,” he says.

“Alright, but honestly, I’d get the strawberry lemonade. It’s way better.”

“If you say it’s good, then I’ll give it a try,” he says, smiling coyly.

“Good, so a strawberry lemonade for you,” you start, turning to Dean, “and for you?”

Dean orders his drink, and while they wait for you to return with their drinks, they look at the food on the menus, at least Sam does, until he realizes that Dean is looking at him over his menu with a smirk on his face.

“Dude, what’s up with you and the waitress?”

“Nothing,” Sam says hesitantly. “I mean, she’s pretty, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If a hot girl is hitting on you, take that as a blessing. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?” Dean reminds him, and for once Sam thinks he’s right, only a little bit, though. It had been a while since he even flirted with a girl, and it really couldn’t hurt, could it?

However, his train of thought is interrupted by your presence at the table again. You place each drink in front of them, being extra careful with Sam’s. 

“So, are we ready to order?” You ask.

The boys order, and you jot it down on your notepad before walking away from their table. This time, Sam takes the time to watch the way your hips swing from side to side every time you take a step. All he can think is that you have the most graceful walk he has ever seen in his life, which he then thinks is a little weird, but it’s just like him to notice these small, weird, and typically brushed over details of people.

When you back out of the kitchen doors, a plate in each hand, Sam is still staring. He can’t help thinking how beautiful you are, and how cute the smirk you always seem to have on your face is.

You place the plates down on the table. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.” You give Sam a smile that could just as easily be for both him and Dean, but he chooses to believe it was just for him.

Dean smirks. “She’s one hell of a beauty. If you aren’t gonna do anything with that blessing, I will.”

Sam gives him a dramatic look of disgust, but otherwise ignores his comment in favor of eating his sandwich. 

After they finish, Dean heads out to the car, insisting that Sam goes and talks to you. 

He walks up to the counter, money in hand. “Hey.”

You give him a grin. “Hey, there. Enjoy the food?”

“Yeah, it was really good,” he says, sliding you a twenty dollar bill. “That enough?”

You nod. “So, I get off in two hours. If you care, that is.”

He smirks. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, if my charms are still working, I would assume that you care. I’m quite pretty, after all.”

“And humble,” he jokes, earning an, in his definitely not biased opinion, adorable giggle from you. “But, yeah. You’re right, I do care.”

“Good, then meet me at the bar across the street. And don’t be late, otherwise I might find another man willing to fall under my spell.” You lean on the counter and give his hand a pat.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, so I’ll be there.” He smiles and heads out the door, leaving you leaning your head into your palm, grinning like a teenage girl that just made plans with her first boyfriend.

**** 

When Dean sees Sam walking out the door with a smug smile on his face, he can’t help but don a smile of his own. 

Sam opens the car door, greeted by Dean’s all-knowing grin. “So, you got a date tonight?”

“It’s not a date, we’re just going to the bar after she gets off work.” 

“Well, whatever, we finally got you a lady. Make the most of it, but don’t have too much fun. Still have to get rid of these witches.” Sam finds Dean’s advice very out of character, because typically he would tell him to have the time of his life, but he’s too elated to make much out of it.

“I know, man.”

Dean pats him on the shoulder. “Let’s head to the bar, get you a head start to your night of fun. I’ll look into this witch coven.”

“Dude, since when do you want to do the research?” Sam questions.

“Ever since you started getting chicks instead of me.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You were hitting on a waitress this morning.”

“Can’t do anything with her number now, so it doesn’t count.”

“You could call it.”

“Nah, not in the area. Not worth driving all the way back for a waitress.” Sam raises an eyebrow but decides not to say anything.

**** 

In the bar, Sam and Dean are sitting at a small round table. Sam is drinking a bottle of beer while sitting across from Dean, who for once for once is not trying to get laid, but is actually researching the case at hand.

“Alright, so get this. These moms meet up at your new girlfriend’s house every Tuesday and Thursday and are there until, like, four in the morning.”

“Where are you getting this information?” Sam asks, using his years of enduring Dean’s teasing to skilfully avoid giving into Dean’s provocation.

“Some noise complaints that have been filed over the past few years.”

“So these are for sure our witches, then,” Sam observes.

“Seems like it,” Dean agrees.

Sam finishes his second beer of the night and grabs one of the files in front of Dean. 

“Alright, so there are four witches in this coven,” Sam reads from the file.

“Do you think the chick you’re meeting is also in it?” Dean asks.

Sam rests his chin on his palm, giving it some thought. He knew that some witches were born with their abilities, and since your mother was a witch, it was likely that you were born as one, but that didn’t necessarily mean that you were in on the killing, or that you even knew that you had powers. He hoped that you weren’t, but he thinks that he also wouldn’t mind it too much if you were. He would never admit it to Dean, but he thought that if you were a witch, it might be pretty cool.

“I don’t think so, she seemed really concerned about the killings and disappearances,” he defends.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve got the hots for her.”

Sam makes a face. “Yes, I like her, but I’m serious. I don’t think she is.”

“Alright.” Dean puts his hands up as if to say ‘Sorry, please don’t kill me now.’ 

Sam sees you walk in the door, heading straight for the bar. After taking a few more sips out of his new bottle of beer, he gets up out of his chair. Dean gives him a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ look, which he gracefully ignores in favor of sitting on the stool next to you.

“Hey there, stranger,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Hey,” he says giddily, causing you to come to the realization that he’s already at least a bit drunk. 

“So you’re a happy drunk,” you observe.

“Whaaat? I’m not drunk,” he argues.

You give him a knowing smile, but indulge him anyway. “Alright, fine. How’s the case going?”

“‘S good, we have suspects now,” he boasts.

“Yeah? I assume that’s all thanks to your hard work here,” you tease.

He gives you a toothy grin. “You know it.”

The bartender comes over and you order some fruity drink that Sam doesn’t catch the name of. When you get it, Sam asks to try it, which you oblige, of course.

“Wow, that’s good. I want one, too.”

“It is, but is that really a good idea? How many beers have you had already?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Two, but I started on my third.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you can have some more of mine, but don’t drink too much. It’s pretty strong, and we wouldn’t want your partner over there to have to deal with you being too drunk,” you tease.

He frowns. “Who cares what he thinks? He’s bossy,” he groans. “And annoying,” he adds for safe measures.

You give him a comforting smile and a pat on his arm, causing you to realize just how muscular it is, along with the rest of his body. You somehow didn’t notice before, but now that you have, it’s all that’s on your mind.

“Sounds like I’ll have to take you off his hands for the night then, huh?” 

He notices that your hand is still on his arm, causing a light pink to dust his cheeks. “Sounds like a plan.”

“So, once you’re done with this case, how long until you leave?”

“It depends. Could be a week, could be the same day we finish the case. For you, though, I’m sure I can arrange staying around for a bit longer,” he suggests.

“That sounds nice,” you admit.

“Good, I’ll work it out then,” he states. “You look beautiful, sorry for not saying it earlier.”

“Well, thank you.” You grin, slightly shocked at how bluntly he says it, but you’re definitely not complaining. Looking over Sam’s outfit, you can’t help notice how good he looks in jeans and a flannel. The way the sleeves of his flannel tighten around his arms doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Now that you’ve seen how he looks in the basic combination, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to think another man looks good in it. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Casual is your look, agent. Not to mention that shirt is doing wonders for your arms,” you compliment, causing a dark blush to appear on his face for the second time tonight.

“Thanks,” he mumbles in embarrassment, clearly not expecting you to have flirted back, and if he did, he definitely didn’t expect you to flirt so blatantly. He’s flustered, and so, he decides to shift the conversation topic off of himself. “So, where do you go to college?”

“Last year I transferred to Stanford, but I went to an in-state college that was far enough away from here before.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, giving you a small smile. “I went to Stanford, too.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah, I was studying to be a lawyer. Until my brother came to my apartment and told me he needed my help looking for our dad, at least” he admits.

“You didn’t finish school?”

“No, but it turned out to be a good thing,” he says, his voice sounding like he was trying to convince not only you, but himself as well. You raise an eyebrow, but in hopes of not upsetting the cute puppy-eyed boy you’d met only hours earlier, ultimately decide against saying anything to contradict his statement. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance to accept his statement.

“I’m glad. Although, I’m sure you could still finish school if you ever wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt to have a back-up plan,” you suggest, laughing internally at the fact that being a Stanford educated lawyer would be his ‘back-up plan.’

“I guess. But I don’t think I could let Dean work all by himself.” The crestfallen expression he has on his face after imagining leaving Dean, paired with his puppy dog eyes is almost too much for you to handle. 

You put your hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb across the flannel he was wearing. “You’re a good partner, Sam. He’s lucky to have you.”

A perplexed look flashes across his face until he realizes that you meant they were FBI partners, and he quickly recovers by giving you a small smile. You find yourself unable to think about anything but his gorgeous eyes, sweet smile, and silky hair, causing you to get that warm fuzzy feeling that all your friends describe when talking about their boyfriends, and you feel yourself returning a smile without even trying. It felt almost like a reflex, and you realized that you were developing a crush on the tall, sweet, doe-eyed man. This thought is even further confirmed after Sam puts his large hand over yours, curling his fingers around your significantly smaller ones, causing your heart-rate to pick up.

You don’t even notice the blush appear on your face until you hear Sam’s teasing voice. “Now who’s the one blushing?”

“It’s just the lighting, don’t get all cocky,” you try to defend, to no avail, though, since Sam’s mischievous grin does not falter after hearing your defense.

“If you say so,” Sam says, doing his best not to let a doubtful expression cross his face.

“I do,” you firmly state. A small lull of silence overcomes the conversation, and you search through your brain to search for a new topic to discuss. “You said you have a brother? What’s his name?”

“Uh, about that. Dean is my brother.” Your eyebrows lift slightly.

“No way. You guys are brothers and work together? That’s pretty cool,” you observe.

“Yeah, sometimes. Other times he’s a real dick, though.”

“I bet. But he seems pretty nice for the most part.”

“He’s a good guy, he just thinks he has to protect everyone, especially me. He doesn’t realize I can do things on my own. I mean I was in college without him and I did just fine.”

You nod sympathetically, understanding how complex family relationships can be. From there, the conversation flowed smoothly and you felt like you could tell Sam anything without any judgment, leading you to ask, “Would you, uh, want to come over to my house for the night? My mom isn’t going to be home tonight.” As you say it, you feel like you’re in high school all over again, and you start to regret the words as soon as your lips stop moving.

Sam’s eyes widen and he stays quiet, further fueling your regret. For those brief few seconds, your mind races and you worry if you came off too strong or if he simply isn’t interested in you past a drunk conversation and flirting. Luckily, he realizes the look on your face and saves you from any further anxiety. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” Once again, the infamous smile graces his features, cheeks puffing up causing his eyes to crinkle and because not only is his face beautiful, of course his eyes have to be, too. You swear, even if no one else in the whole world agrees, his eyes are so beautiful in that moment that they glimmer.

You beam at him and slip off your stool, grabbing his hand and leading him off to the door. He looks back at Dean to find him already smirking at him. Dean gives him a wink, and for what is probably the millionth time in his life, Sam completely ignores him, focusing on the way you’re eagerly dragging him out of the place and to your car.

****

The next morning, Sam wakes up in a room that is far too nice to be the hotel that he and Dean were staying at, even though they always got the best room. He quickly remembers the events of last night and smiles. Although, his smile fades when he looks next to him to find you nowhere in sight. He rubs his eyes, looking around the room at the posters and decorations that let him peer into a tiny part of your life without worrying if he was overstepping any boundaries. 

He gets out from under the blanket and slips off the side of the bed, walking over to your desk that holds a curious collection of trinkets and a book full of pictures. He’s in the middle of flipping through the book when he hears the creaking of a door opening, and his reflexes have him whipping his head to see where the noise came from. You let out a little giggle when you find his face looking like a little kid that just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He tilts his head as if asking what you were laughing at, but you just shrug, a cheeky grin still on your face.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sam?” 

For a moment, Sam is at a loss of words. “Uh, I was just….” He trails off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad. Just wondering what you’re looking at.” Your words clearly ease his mind, as he picks up the open photobook and points at the picture he was looking at. You smile as you look at a highschool version of you with some of your friends at a festival. 

“It’s a cute picture. You dyed your hair, though. I almost didn’t realize you were in it at first.”

“Yeah, I figured since I was going to college I should switch it up a bit.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Sam continues to flip through the pages. You carefully watch his expression change as his eyes move around the pages looking at different moments of your life. He was glad to get even more of a glance into who you were. 

Eventually, he reaches the end of the book and closes it, setting it back down on its rightful place on your desk. He joins you on the bed, sitting an awkward distance away from you, causing you to let out a small chuckle.

“What?” He questions, his puppy-dog eyes in full effect again.

“You can come closer, y’know. I don’t bite,” you tease. He blushes, as even more memories of last night flood into his brain. You definitely bit, but apparently only during certain hours of the day.

He scoots closer to you until your shoulders are comfortably pressed together. You take advantage of the proximity and lean your head on his shoulder.

“So, any plans for today?” You ask him.

“Not really. Just stuff for the case. I should probably check my phone.” You nod, and Sam thinks that the divine beauty of the slight raise at the corners of your mouth is unrivaled by any other sight Sam has ever seen, and he has seen almost too much in his short life.

He reaches over to the table next to your bed, trying his best not to move away from you and disturb your peaceful state of simple existence. He turns on his phone, seeing a few texts from Dean with more details on the case. He turns his phone off and decides that it wouldn’t hurt to stay here with you for another hour. You’re surprised by the weight of his head resting on top of yours, but who are you to complain? 

****

Unfortunately, an hour can go by very fast when you’re, as they say, having fun. Watching Sam walk out of your house pulled on a part of your heart that you wish it hadn’t, knowing that Sam would soon be leaving your not so small town and you would more than likely never see him again. You don’t think you would be able to handle not seeing him again, even though the two of you have known each other for less than a mere day. With these thoughts swirling around in your brain, all you can do is give him a small wave when he turns around to look at you one last time before getting into his brother’s ‘67 Impala.

****

“Dude, tell me about your night. Was it the craziest sex you’ve ever had? Is she freaky? Waitresses always are, man.” Dean’s rambles fill Sam’s ears as soon as he closes the door to the old, black car.

“Really? You couldn’t even wait five seconds before you start with this?” Sam complains.

“You haven’t gotten laid in centuries, Sammy, excuse me if I want to know if my little brother had a good time.”

“Shut up.” 

As usual, Dean completely ignores Sam’s protests and continues asking graphic questions about the ‘hot witch waitress’ until they arrive at the house of one of the witches in the coven.

****

Dean knocks on the door of the white two-story house, and within seconds is met with the face of a standard looking middle-aged woman.

“Hello, ma’am, FBI,” Dean says, flashing his fake badge, actions in sync with that of his younger brother.

The woman’s eyes widen slightly, but she schools her face back into neutrality quite quickly. “Come on in.” She motions for them to step into the house.

Dean sits down on the large couch in the living room, leaving Sam to remain standing next to it. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Of course, go right ahead. Up the stairs and two doors to the right.”

Sam gives her a grateful smile before he walks out of the living room and heads up the stairs. When he began his search, he had expected to find one hex bag, or maybe even zero, but what he hadn’t expected was three. He raised an eyebrow, assuming that all the others in the coven would have at least coordinated this better, but here he was, looking at three different hex bags.

He quickly grabs them before flushing the toilet to avoid suspicion or potential disgust on the woman’s part if she realized that he hadn’t flushed the toilet. 

Heading back down the stairs, he gives Dean a small nod to indicate his findings and to signal Dean to wrap up his investigation.

“You boys have a good day, good luck with your investigation,” the woman says, closing the door behind them as they walk down the stairs connected to the front porch.

“Dude, there were three hex bags in her bathroom,” Sam says, pulling the bags out of his pocket.

“I thought they only needed one? What’s the point of having more?” Dean inquired.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s more powerful or something.”

Dean made a sound of acknowledgement but said nothing in return. Sam took it as a cue to continue talking.

“So, I was thinking we just wait until a night that they meet up and then ambush.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed.

****

Back at the hotel room, Sam is researching more for the case, just to be safe, while Dean is out grabbing something for them to eat. Sam assumes that he’s gone back to the restaurant you work at so he can grab another glance at you.

Sam is deep into a passage on witchly powers when his phone rings, he assumes it’s Dean, but the small screen shows an unknown number. His eyebrows raise, but he answers the phone nonetheless. 

“Hello? Sam?” A familiar, but shaky voice asks from the phone.

He says your name as if it were a question, to which you quickly say, “Yes, um, sorry to be calling this late but I think there’s someone in my house.”

Sam’s jaw clenches, his whole face tensing up before quickly relaxing again as he prepares to defend the woman that he now found lingering in every crevice of his mind.

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Just lock your door and stay in your room, alright?” 

“Okay. Please stay on the phone with me, I’m really scared,” you admit.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it,” he says, rushing out the door of the hotel room before realizing that Dean was still out getting food. “Shit,” he breathed. However, now he could finally reap the benefits of his daily morning runs.

“What?” 

“Nothing, just a slight change of plans. Just stay calm.” His voice was slightly strained and now sounded more like a moan than actual words, and if you weren’t so damn scared you might have found it sexy.

****

About seven minutes and lots of heavy breaths from Sam’s end of the phone later, Sam was at the front door of your house, gun full of witch-killing bullets ready in one hand, and his small phone in the other. 

“I’m here, you’ll be good if I get off the phone?” He asks, fully ready to somehow manage to find a way to stay on the phone while fighting if you need him to.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Do what you need to do, please,” you say, but he hears the fear in your voice.

“I’ll be done and up there as soon as possible, alright? Don’t worry.”

He hears a small sound of acknowledgement from the other end of the phone before he finally ends the call and goes into the house. He heads straight for the door to the basement that, luckily, he had found when he made his journey to the bathroom the first time he was over at your house. He opens the door and grabs a second gun out of his pocket for safe measures, especially since Dean was nowhere to be found despite Sam’s multiple texts.

He slowly creeps down the stairs, doing his best not to let his weight cause the stairs to creek. Fortunately, he makes it down soundlessly, but is now stuck with the task of creeping through the abnormally large basement without getting cornered by witches.

It takes a few minutes before he finally hears the loud chanting start back up again, and while he knows that he’s probably free to walk as loudly as he wants to, he still keeps up the stealth.

The chanting slowly gets louder, and Sam steadies his arms to shoot both guns. As soon as he sees two figures in the door frame, he pulls the trigger on both, not wanting to risk the chances of them performing some spell on him before he gets a chance to get them first.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that there was still a third member of the coven, and as soon as he turns around, he’s met with the face of your mother, as well as a book harshly hitting his head and rendering him unconscious. 

The next thing he knows, he’s tied up in the same room that he shot the two witches.

“You’re not FBI, you’re hunters,” your mother says, disgust obvious in her voice.

“Like you’re any better. You kill innocent people,” Sam grunts, starting to discreetly rub the rope he was tied up with against the chair to cut it.

“Innocent? Oh, please, no one in this world is innocent, especially not you, and even more so since you’ve involved yourself with my daughter,” she spat.

Sam grimaces. “Oh, yes, I know all about that.” She smirks.

Sam is about to speak, but is interrupted by your voice calling out for him. As your voice grows closer and closer, Sam realizes his progress on the rope is not as fast as he hoped, and if he didn’t hurry up, you’d be in the room before he was free. 

However, to his dismay, you enter the room before he can free his arms, and all that he can think about is how awful it would be to watch you die, especially by the hands of your own mother. The nauseating thought is interrupted by a loud smashing sound that Sam immediately recognizes as a bat to the head. His head shoots up and he sees you, eyebrows furrowed with your eyes glazes over as you realize what you’ve done. 

He finally manages to get the rope holding his hands behind his back cut as you sink down onto your knees and start sobbing. His first reaction is to run over and hold you, asking if you’re okay, but he isn’t sure if that’s what you would want, and there’s no way in hell that he would want to upset you even more.

He settles for walking over to you and kneeling down with one hand on your back rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles on it.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” he comforts. “It’ll get better. Just know you had to do this, alright?”

“I know, Sam, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I didn’t even think about it, I just saw you tied up, and that was my first reaction. Am I insane?”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. It’s fine, you’re fine.”

Finally, you turn towards him and collapse into his arms, and though he’s surprised, he catches you and holds you closely and firmly to his chest. The hand that was once on your back is now on your head, comfortingly playing with your hair, and the other is wrapped around your waist as you sob into his shoulder.

****

Hours later, you’ve finally calmed down, and you and Sam are in your living room sitting on your couch, along with Dean, the other FBI agent that had arrived while you were still sobbing, much to your later embarrassment. However, Sam had reassured you that it wasn’t embarrassing, and Dean definitely wouldn’t find it so.

After his reassurance, you could find no trace of embarrassment still lingering in your mind. It was surprising that someone you’d only met a few days ago was able to not only understand you like that, but also manage to diminish your insecurities so easily. You found yourself thinking about how much you and Sam seem to have in common and how easy it is to talk to him. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye you see a small smile on his face. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer to him.

“Oh, get a room,” Dean grumbles in annoyance, but Sam knows that he’s just faking it. He knows Dean too well to not realize that he really is happy for him.

****

When you wake up the next day you feel a warm presence next to you in your bed. You quickly recognize the presence as Sam, leading you to snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest.

“Good morning,” Sam says groggily, his voice breaking you out of the peaceful trance you were in.

“Good morning,” you reply.

Sam gives your arm a small squeeze before sitting up. You mirror his actions, ready to start a conversation, but are interrupted by the loud sound of his phone.

He gives you an apologetic look and grabs his phone to presumably read a text.

“It’s Dean. He has a lead on the case,” he states, to your annoyance.

“That’s good, I think. Would it be wrong for me to ask if I could come with?”

Sam’s eyebrows raise at your unexpected request. He stays quiet for a few seconds before replying, “I won’t say no, but I also don’t want you to get hurt. So, I have to be honest with you.”

You tilt your head, encouraging him to continue.

“My brother and I aren’t FBI, we’re hunters.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” 

Sam swallows as if to prepare for the words about to leave his mouth.

“Monsters are real. Vampires, ghosts, all of it. My brother and I hunt them.” As the words are leaving his mouth, Sam is suddenly hit with a wave of regret. What if you don’t believe him? What if you think he’s crazy and tell him to leave?

You, on the other hand, were thinking about how happy you were that Sam was comfortable enough with you to tell you about his real life. In the future, Sam would probably laugh about how vast the difference of what was going on in each of your minds, but now, he was taking your silence as negative.

When you saw the worry on Sam’s face, you immediately realized that you’d been sitting in complete silence since he’d admitted the truth about him and his brother. 

“Really?” The one simple word brought Sam joy and relief like no other moment in his life.

“You actually believe me?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, I mean what reason do I have not to? It does sound kind of insane, but I also bashed my mom’s head in with a bat yesterday, so…” You trail off, realizing that once again you’d been using humor as a coping mechanism instead of dealing with your problems.

Sam clears his throat, now feeling very awkward. “Right… About that, are you sure you want to come with? You’ve already been through a lot.”

“It would probably help to get my mind off of it, even if more traumatizing shit ends up happening, too.”

He pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Yeah, alright. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

You smile. “Yeah, it is.”

**** 

Half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back seat of the infamous black Impala with some old rock song that Dean picked playing.

“Sam, are you sure about bringing her?” Dean asks lowly, as if you couldn’t hear him from your spot right behind him. 

“Yes, Dean. It’s not like we’re leaving her to fend for her own while we go together,” he says exasperatedly.

“If you say so.”

You clear your throat, prompting Sam to turn around and give you an apologetic smile. You return the smile, but the annoyance you feel towards Dean does not dissipate. If anything, you feel it even more so after Sam apologized instead of him.

You decide to ignore it and stay quiet for the rest of the drive.

A few minutes and one rock song later, the Impala pulls into a driveway that you recognize as one of your mom’s friend’s house. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are we here?”

Dean clicks his tongue. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Well, Dean, I’m sorry that I didn’t want to overwhelm her,” he sasses.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You brought her on a damn hunt.”

The air in the car suddenly felt awkward and you felt as though you shouldn’t be listening to their conversation. 

“I’m just gonna get out and let you two finish your discussion,” you said quickly before opening the door and walking over to the porch of the house.

As you walked up the stairs, the front door opened, and the face of your old best friend from high school appeared in the doorway. 

She called your name, a big smile adorning her face.

“Lily, hey!” You said, feigning excitement to see the girl after three years.

“It’s been so long! Come inside. My mom is downstairs,” she exclaims, ushering you into the house and nearly slamming the door shut once you’ve entered her house. As soon as you enter the house, a chill runs down your spine and you can’t help but feel nervous about what’s about to happen.

****

You’d been in the house for a few minutes before Sam and Dean had even realized you hadn’t been sitting on the porch the whole time they’d been arguing, and when Sam looked over to see what you were doing, a wave of panic rushed through his whole body.

“Dean, she’s gone.”

“What the hell? See, this is why we shouldn’t have even brought her with us.”

“Dude, whatever, it doesn’t matter, we gotta go find her right now.”

Sam quickly opened the passenger door and rushed out of the car and through the front door.

He opens the door, quickly checking the living room. Nothing. He checks the kitchen and the dining room. Nothing and nothing. He checks all the rooms on the first floor and the second floor, then goes back to the first floor to check again, when he hears Dean calling out to him.

“Sam? Come here, I found a door to a basement or somethin’,” he calls out.

Sam follows the sound of his brother’s gruff voice and finds a door he doesn’t know how he missed. He’s usually thorough about searching, but he finds himself extremely on-edge this time. He thinks it might somehow, maybe, have something to do with his not-so-subtle crush on you, and maybe the thought that losing you would be one of the worst things that has happened to him even though he’s barely known you for five days.

He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his mind, at least for now, in favor of pushing ahead of Dean and heading down the stairs into the basement.

His mind is now absent of any “lovey-dovey” thoughts of you, but chock full of thoughts about how you could be dead right now. He never should have let you get out of the car and go inside without him. If you were dead, it would be all his fault, and he would never be able to escape the guilt of having another death on his conscience. 

However, with all of these thoughts, the thought that you could actually hold your own against the witches had somehow never crossed his mind. It definitely should have, though, because when he finally reaches you, you’re standing over two feminine figures that are lying still on the ground. 

He sees your chest rising and falling as the iron tight grip you have on the knife in your hand begins to falter. The knife clatters onto the floor as you look over to see Sam.

“Sam,” you pant, and he immediately rushes over to you and takes your tired figure into his arms. He immediately feels blood that he isn’t sure of the origins beginning to soak into his jacket, but he can’t bring himself to care about that right now. The only thing he cares about is your safety, and preserving that safety for as long as he possibly can from here on out.

“Are you okay?” He whispers next to your ear.

“No, Sam, I killed my mom and then my best friend from high school and her mom in the span of not even twenty-four hours. I feel horrible.”

“You had to, okay? They were killing people. Maybe that doesn’t help you feel better right now, but eventually it will. Don’t beat yourself up over it, or you’ll end up hating yourself for the rest of your life. This is how it is to be a hunter, and I understand if after now you never want to do it again,” he rambles, trying to somehow make you feel better, which he knows is nearly impossible right now, but he can’t stop himself from trying. To him, it almost feels like someone is taking control of his body and making him do everything in his power to help you.

He realizes very quickly, though, that it’s not a person taking control of his body, but an emotion: love. The realization is scary for him, to say the least, especially because of his track record with girlfriends dying, but he thinks that he would be okay with overcoming this fear if it means you would be his.

A few seconds later, Dean walks into the room and finds himself met with the sight of your shorter figure being held, in his opinion, disgustingly lovingly by his brother. He’s happy that his brother has found someone that seems like a good person from what he can tell.

Dean whistles, eyebrows raising in approval at the sight of the two witches’ bodies behind your back. “Damn, and you didn’t even need my help. You’re getting better, Sammy.”

Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t do this. She did,” he replies, turning around and giving Dean a smug look. Dean gives him a look of annoyance at being proven wrong when it comes to your ability to fight, but ultimately decides to give it a rest, for today at least. He could tell you were shaken up, and he felt that he could sympathize, only a bit, though.

When he realizes that you had taken out the two witches on your own, he couldn’t help but feel impressed, and he confidently feels that you and Sam are right for each other. It’s funny that it isn’t your loving personality or quirky teasing that tells him that you’re right for Sam, but instead the fact that you can hold your own in a battle. That really is a more valuable asset in their lives than any regular person, so Dean is glad that his brother has been lucky enough to find someone like that.

****

Later that day, you’re all standing outside your house that now feels very empty without your mother. You never realized how much of a presence she really had until now, and admittedly, it makes you sad to think about, no matter how much you disliked her.

Unfortunately, it’s about to get a whole lot emptier with Sam and Dean ready to head out to their next case. However, Dean’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and his words shock you even more.

“Kid, how would you feel about joining us for a few more hunts, see how you feel? Who knows, maybe you’ll become a permanent member of our group here.” 

Sam gives him a look of pure astonishment, but all he receives in return is a smug look and a little shrug.

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to be a burden to you guys with all the teaching me how to hunt and all that.”

“I don’t think we’d have to do too much teaching. You’re a natural,” Sam compliments, causing a deep blush to appear on your cheeks.

“Alright, Sammy. We’re gonna have to work on all that flirting,” Dean teases. “I’ll admit, I do agree, though. That was impressive. I probably couldn’t have done that on my first hunt,” he admits.

His unexpected words of praise make you smile, and your annoyance from earlier fades away. Dean could be a pain in the ass from what you’ve learned, but he could also be nice. You figured he was usually a pain in the ass, though, but you figured that you would be able to learn how to deal with it, or at least ignore it like Sam seems to be able to do.

“Alright. To be honest, it was kind of exhilarating, but also scary. I think it could be something I could learn to love, though.”

Sam gives you a warm smile, and gestures for you to go over there to give him a hug, which you excitedly accept, falling into his larger frame as his long arms wrap around you.

Dean grumbles. “Really? Again?”

All you and Sam do in response is laugh, much to Dean’s annoyance.

a/n: would yall be interested in this being a series or something ?? idk i feel like that would be fun to do

tags: @kozumesphone

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Dead Man's Blood | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, daddy issues, mentions of parental death

Word Count: 5022

A/N: Cannot believe we're at the penultimate episode of my version of the first season Supernatural!! Crazy!! Thank you guys so much for the love and support; I truly appreciate it.

When season 2 starts, the taglist will be closed! If you'd like to join and haven't already, please let me know!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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You and the Winchester boys sat at a table in a diner searching for possible cases to take on. You sat at your laptop on the side of the table with Sam and Dean to your right and left. 

Dean looked through a newspaper and folded it up in frustration. “Well, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got, Sammy?”

“I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota... here. A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived,” Sam responded.

“Sounds more like ‘that's Incredible’ than, uh, 'Twilight Zone'.”

“Yeah, I agree,” you said.

“Hey you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick, man, smokin'.” Dean whistled lowly. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe someday. But in the meantime we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that,” Sam stated.

“Yeah, alright. How ‘bout you, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home,” you said, continuing to scan the web page before you.

“Elkins? I know that name,” Dean said.

You shrugged as Sam said, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Dean muttered the man’s name over and over.

“Sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack, now, they've found some signs of robbery,” you continued.

Dean took out his father’s journal and began to flick through it. “There, check it out.” He turned the book around to you and Sam and pointed at a contact reading “D. Elkins” with the man’s phone number next to it.

“You think it's the same Elkins?” Sam questioned.

“It's a Colorado area code.”

“Alright, Colorado it is. Let’s go, kids,” you said. 

***

You and the boys made your way to the remote cabin of Daniel Elkins and picked the lock to his home. You cringed at the sight of your messy surroundings once inside. Books were everywhere, mad scribblings on stray pages covered the floor, and the furniture seemed to not have been dusted in years.

“Looks like the maid didn't come today,” Dean remarked.

You crouched down at the entrance of the home and fingered something on the floor. “Hey, got some salt over here.”

“You mean protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt?” Dean asked.

You gave him a dirty look. “Clearly a ring. Elkins was a player?”

“Definitely,” Dean responded. 

You rose to go stand beside the brothers and look over the journal they were flicking through.

“That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's,” said Sam as he flipped through the pages.

“Yep, except this dates back to the '60s,” Dean added.

You led the brothers into another room and took in the shattered skylights. You moved your flashlight around the room and took in the fact that somehow, this room was messier than the other ones.

“Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam said, referencing the damage to the skylights. It seemed there were two separate entry points through them.

“Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too,” the older brother added. He crouched down to the floor.

“You got something?” you asked, crouching beside him.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?” Sam suggested.

Dean grabbed a page from a notebook on top of the desk beside you and placed it over the spot on the ground. He rubbed a pencil over the top to create an outline. “Or maybe a message.” He peeled up the paper that now had a lot of blood on the back and showed you and Sam the rubbings of the characters. “Look familiar?”

“Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop,” you said.

Dean looked to his brother. “Just the way Dad does it.”

***

You and the boys found a letter in the mailbox labeled with the numbers and letters from the floor’s message. You leaned over the back seat of the car and read off the letters on the envelope.

“ ‘J.W.’ Gotta be John Winchester, right?” you said.

“I don't know. Should we open it?” Dean turned his head to you.

A knock on Dean’s window came before any of you could say another word. You reared back and grabbed your gun from your belt, pointing it at the sound.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

You breathed out sharply as John opened the door and slid into the seat next to you. “I almost shot you, dude.”

He chuckled at you.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” Sam asked, turning to face him.

John’s gravelly voice seemed even more tired and worn than the last time you’d seen him. “Yeah, I'm okay. I read the news about Daniel; I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

“Why didn't you come in, Dad?”

“You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed. By anyone or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.”

Dean looked a little proud. “Yeah, well, we learned from the best.”

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam questioned.

John nodded. “He was— He was a good man. Taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.”

“Well, you never mentioned him to us.”

“We had a— we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years.” He gestured to the envelope. “I should look at that.” He opened it. “ 'If you're reading this, I'm already dead'... that son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” his eldest son asked.

“He had it the whole time.”

Sam looked at him confused. “Dad, what?”

“When you searched the place, did you— did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?”

You shook your head. “I saw an old case, but it was empty.”

John sighed. “They have it.”

“You mean, whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asked.

John started to get out of the car. “We gotta pick up the trail.”

“Wait, you want us to come with you?” Sam scoffed.

“If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” John rushed out.

“The gun? Why?”

“Because it's important, that's why.”

‘He’s even more of a hardass than Dean.’

“Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” the younger son protested.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires.”

Your heart nearly dropped at the mention of those creatures.

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out. I was wrong,” John said. 

“Damn right,” you jumped in, not realizing the sudden venom lacing your words.

The three men stared back at you, and you shrank awkwardly.

John continued to explain. “Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

Anxiety clawed at your throat. You hadn’t faced any vampires since the death of your family.

***

You and the Winchesters found a decently priced motel to stay in to get your bearings before you went after the vampires. You watched Sam and Dean sleeping peacefully on their beds, but you were unable to get a wink. You and John sat on opposite sides of the table in the room listening to the police scanner.

You admired Dean’s relaxed features. You rarely saw him this at-ease. You wished you could be sleeping beside him, but your own mind was keeping you awake. The eldest Winchester looked over at you and whispered over the hum of the police scanner. “How’ve they been?” he asked.

You sighed. “They’re alright, I think. Been driving themselves crazy looking for you, though.”

He chuckled softly. “I figured they were.” He paused for a minute. 

“They need you more than they need me,” you said. “You should stay with ‘em. I’ll be hitting the road in a little while, I think.”

“Don’t,” he said. “They’ll need you when this is all over.”

“What? You’re not gonna stay?” You turned your head to John.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head. 

You were disgusted at him. “Look, no disrespect, but that’s crap.”

He seemed caught off-guard. “And why’s that?” he challenged.

“Sam’s a mess. You walked out on Dean. Your boys deserve their father," you whispered harshly.

“Don’t act like you know me,” he hissed. “Dean’s a grown man. He’ll get over it. Sam, too. I’m not abandoning them; it’s just not safe.”

“Just call a spade a spade, John. Abandonment ‘for their safety’ is still abandonment,” you argued. 

“You don’t think I wanna be with my kids—?"

“No, I don’t actually,” you cut him off.

Before he could continue to argue with you, something on the police scanner caught your attention.

“Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41, abandoned car. You need a workup?” the static voice said.

“Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here,” another voice said.

“Sam, Dean, let's go,” John slapped their feet as he stood, his voice still gravelly from his anger with you.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean muttered, though still asleep.

Sam sat up and Dean rubbed his eyes.

“There’s a call on the scanner,” you said.

“(Y/N), did you get any sleep?” the older brother slurred sleepily.

“That’s not important right now,” you told him. “C’mon.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“A couple called 911,; found a body in the street. Cops got there and everyone was missing. It's the vampires,” John explained.

“How do you know?”

“Just follow me, okay?” John said, leaving the room. 

You turned to Sam who was putting his jacket on. “It’s how they hunt. They lay in the middle of the road and wait for somebody to pull over. By the time they get up close and personal, it’s too late. Then they leave.”

Dean sat up, still half-asleep. “You gonna be okay?” he asked you.

“I’m fine,” you responded. You could tell he didn’t believe you, but you left him behind without waiting for an argument.

***

John was talking to the cops while you and the brothers stood back by the Impala under the cover of the trees. He refused to look at you after your argument, and you refused to speak to him. You wouldn’t engage with a man who walked out on his children and put Dean through so much.

“I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him,” the brunet sighed sulkily.

“Oh, don't tell me it's already starting.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“What's starting?” Sam asked.

John walked up before either of you could answer.

“What have you got?” Dean asked his dad.

“It was them, alright. Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour,” John explained.

“How can you be so sure?” Sam challenged.

“Sam—” Dean tried.

“I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” Sam told him sharply.

“We are,” John responded.

You stood back next to Dean, trying not to get involved in the fight.

“How do you know?”

John handed something to his oldest son. “I found this.”

“It's a vampire fang.”

“Not a fang, teeth. They’ve got a second set that comes out when they attack,” you explained, looking over Dean’s shoulder at the tooth.

“Any more questions?” John challenged Sam.

Sam looked away and stayed silent. 

“Alright, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight,” John said. Everything he said was said with authority. “Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it,” he gruffly spat at his son before heading to his truck.

You angrily stared after the man before looking over at Dean, who grimaced and got into the passenger’s seat.

Sam drove, keeping a close follow on John’s truck. You rested your chin on Dean’s shoulder, looking over the excerpt he was reading about vampires in your journal. He read aloud to you and Sam. “ ‘Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks.’ I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple.”

Sam grumbled, “That's probably what Dad's thinking. Course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.”

“So it is starting,” Dean sighed.

“What?”

“Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?” 

Sam huffed. “No. Look, I'm happy he's okay, alright? And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” 

“Well, good,” Dean said. 

The younger brother was unable to help himself. “It's just the way he treats us, like we're children.”

“Oh, God.” You sat back in the seat, doing your best to ignore the fight between the brothers.

“He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal,” Sam argued.

“He does what he does for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“Our job! There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, all right. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?” Sam looked over at his brother angrily.

Dean gave Sam a long look before strongly responding, “If that's what it takes.”

Sam shook his head and returned his eyes to the road.

A few minutes later, Dean was on the phone with his dad. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it.” He hung up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

Sam’s frustrated tone was back. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“How,” Sam somehow sounded angrier.

“I don't know. He didn't say,” Dean responded.

Sam gunned the engine, and pulled in front of his dad’s truck before slamming the breaks.

“What are you doing, Sam?” you asked.

Sam got out of the car without answering you.

“Oh, crap. Here we go.” Dean followed his brother out of the car. “Sam!”

You just watched from the back seat, deciding not to get between the family’s brawl.

You watched in the driver’s side rear view mirror as John and Sam got in each other’s faces. Dean was trying to pull the two apart, and you could make out some of what they were screaming at each other about.

Sam approached the car again before spinning back around at his father. You often got in fights like that with your own father but more about his treatment of you and your brother. You knew better than to argue his orders.

“You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!” Sam yelled loudly enough for you to hear.

Dean then shoved the two apart, forcing Sam back to the car. Sam got back in the driver’s seat, still enraged.

“Sam, do you want me to—”

“No,” he snapped at you.

“Oh-kay, then.”

***

You and the brothers sat in the trees watching the beat-up barn the vampires called home. Dean stood beside you and cursed, “Son of a bitch. So they're really not afraid of the sun?” as he watched the vampires climb into a car, shielding their faces with their hands.

“Nope,” you said. “Direct sunlight just stings like a badass sunburn.”

“The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day— doesn't mean they won't wake up,” John added.

“So I guess walking right in's not our best option,” Dean said.

“Actually, that's the plan,” John grinned.

You and the brothers flipped open the trunk of the Impala and began grabbing machetes. John did the same with his truck, but his was outfitted with a fancy, automatic, hidden compartment.

“Here, (Y/N).” Dean handed you a rusty machete.

You caught sight of the giant blade their dad was holding. “Whoa, why don’t you have any like that?”

Dean snorted and turned his head. “Wow.”

John paused, closing his trunk. “So, you boys really wanna know about this Colt?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam.

“It's just a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” John began. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say... They say this gun can kill anything.”

“Kill anything, like, supernatural anything?” Dean breathed.

“Like the demon,” Sam connected.

“Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, and we may have it.”

“Wait, and you couldn’t tell your kids that why?” you snarled.

“(Y/N)—” Dean scolded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

John just looked at his eldest son. “What exactly made you keep her around for so long?”

“Both of you, stop it,” Dean said. "Let’s get these fuckers while we have the chance.”

You backed off, tension dissolving a little at Dean’s words. You looked between the boys and their father. Their faces conveyed complex emotions you couldn’t quite read.

Silently, you and Dean flanked one end of the barn while Sam took the other with his father.

You and Dean jumped through a barn window and walked around their hammocks carefully. Dean accidentally kicked an empty bottle on the ground, and you froze. You made a worried face and looked over to Dean, who froze as well.

The vampire next to Dean stirred, but didn’t wake up. You and Dean continued on until you found a woman tied up against a pole. You weren’t sure if she was sleeping or unconscious. 

“Dean,” you whispered, crouching beside the woman. He came over to you as you began to untie her. You heard a noise behind you, and Dean went over to investigate.

“There’s more,” he said, grabbing something to break the locks on the metal cages a distance away from you.

The woman you were untying began to stir, and you did your best to assure her you were here to help.

The woman awoke and let out an unearthly roar. 

“Dean!” you called, shooting up.

“Kids, run!” John called to you after hearing your voice. You and Dean sprinted out of the building, yelling for Sam as you did so. The vampires chased you, but you used the daylight to your advantage. You broke back through the trees and returned to the cars.

“Dad?! Sam!” Dean called. The two then came back up the slope. 

“They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John said.

“Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean questioned.

“You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what.”

You knew where John was going with this. You smiled at the boys who seemed confused. “C’mon, Dean,” you said, patting his shoulder. You turned to the Impala, and Sam and his father got in the latter’s truck.

Dean cruised down the road to the funeral home you had found and were planning to break into. 

“What the hell was that earlier?” Dean asked frustratedly as soon as the car doors were shut.

“What?”

“With my dad, (Y/N), why would you say something like that?!”

"Look, we got in a fight while you and Sam were sleeping. I just don’t like how he treats you guys,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but don’t. Sam’s enough for me right now as it is,” he responded.

A few moments passed, and you looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Dean sighed. “It’s okay.” He snorted after a moment. “Not many people would stand up to my dad like that.”

You smiled, eyes still on your hands folded in your lap. “He reminds me a lot of my dad. John and Sam fight exactly how my dad and I did. Steven always had to break us apart.”

“I just don’t understand why Sam can’t leave the old man alone,” Dean told you. “I mean, we spent so fucking long looking for ‘im, and as soon as we find him, he’s pickin’ fights.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get why he’s upset, but I agree that it’s the wrong place and wrong time right now. I mean, despite the fact that I picked a fight with him. Again, mistake on my part.” 

“Agreed.”

You let a moment of silence pass before you spoke again. “Dee?”

“Hm.”

“Now that we’ve found your dad, do you still want me here?”

He turned his head toward you. “Of course, I do. You’re not gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

You grinned. “Good. After a year of all this, you guys have become my new normal. I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to being alone again.”

Dean smirked and turned back to the road, pulling into the parking lot of the funeral home. 

After a few lies and a bit of breaking and entering, you and Dean were headed back to the motel with dead man’s blood in hand.

“What does that stuff do exactly?” Dean asked you as he drove.

“It’s kinda like vampire food poisoning. Pretty useful stuff,” you explained.

“How’ve you been with this whole thing?” he asked.

“What, the vampires?”

Dean nodded.

“Winchester, are you goin’ soft on me? Since when do you care to get into the touchy-feely?” you joked.

He rolled his eyes in response. “Answer the damn question, (Y/N).”

You sighed, dropping your plucky attitude. “I’m okay, I think. I just— I haven’t hunted any vamps since my parents died. Any time I sniffed any out, I ran the other way. It’s kind of ironic that the one thing I fucking hate hunting has the one thing we need to kill this demon.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well, y’know… Just…” 

“There’s my boy. Having trouble with moments of sincerity once more,” you gibed but became serious once more as he rolled his eyes. “I know. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

***

You were surprised to find John and Sam laughing when you reentered their motel room.

“Whew. Man, some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys,” Dean said.

“Get it?” John asked.

You reached into Dean’s jacket pocket and pulled out a paper bag with a bottle full of blood inside it. You handed it over to the eldest Winchester.

“You know what to do,” he said.

***

You hated watching that creature feel Dean up and kiss him, but you knew you needed to let it happen for the sake of getting the Colt from the vampires. You’d already nearly beheaded her when she backhanded him.

Another vampire appeared behind the woman holding Dean in the air by his face, and that was when you made your move. You used a crossbow to shoot both of the vampires straight between their ribs, and the girl holding Dean dropped him.

“Dammit,” she cursed as you approached the group from the trees. “It barely even stings.”

“Give it time, babe,” you told her. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. Should be giving you a nasty tummy ache any second.” You pouted at her mockingly as she began to waver and lose consciousness.

“Load her up,” John ordered you and his sons. “I'll take care of this one.” Moments later, you heard a slashing noise and blood splattering coming from behind you as you finished loading the girl into Dean’s trunk.

***

You met John in a clearing in the woods where you and Sam were setting up a campfire. Dean tied the unconscious vampiress to a tree, and you circled her, fuming.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean told you. “Don’t kill her just yet.”

“I’m tryin’ not to,” you responded, gripping the handle of your machete tightly.

He chuckled at you and turned to his dad.

“Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John commanded.

“Stuff stinks!” Dean coughed.

“That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes, and you stand a chance of not being detected,” his father replied.

“You sure they'll come after her?” Sam asked his dad.

“Vampires mate for life,” you broke in. “She means more to the leader than the gun.”

“But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time,” John added.

“A half hour oughta do it,” shrugged Sam.

“And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John stated.

The boys began to protest.

“Well, Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself,” Dean said.

“I'll have her,” John replied, referencing the passed-out vampire. “And the Colt.”

“But after. We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?” Sam looked at his father expectantly. There was a long pause before Sam spoke again. “You're leaving again, aren't you. You still wanna go after the demon alone." Hes scoffed mockingly. "You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children.”

“You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe.”

Dean spoke up much to your surprise. “Dad, all due respect, but, uh, that's a bunch of crap.”

“Excuse me?” the older man scoffed.

“You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe,” Dean argued.

“It's not the same thing, Dean.”

“Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”

“This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive,” John responded.

“You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look, I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death… it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't,” John admitted.

“What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, and we could’ve done something about it?" He let his words hang in the air for a moment. "You know, I've been thinking. I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded as his brother continued. “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.”

John’s walls went back up. “We're running out of time. You do your job, and you get out of the area. That's an order.”

Dean looked down at the ground, and you watched him carefully as he tried to suppress his rising emotions. 

***

After you and the boys freed the people that had been locked up in the vampires’ barn, you went to find John and the members of the nest. You found them just in time because John had been knocked on his ass by the vampire you’d kidnapped.

You and the brothers hurried out of the trees and began shooting vampires with a crossbow. You moved toward the leader with your machete, but he backhanded you and held you in a headlock with his arm around your throat. 

You struggled against him as he addressed Dean, who was holding a machete of his own. “Don't! I'll break her neck. Put the blade down.”

Dean hesitated.

Luther tightened his hold on your neck, causing you to struggle more. “It’d be a real shame for her to die.” He dug his nose in your hair and sniffed deeply. “She’s pretty. I’d love having her around. Drop it!”

Dean did as told, and his jaw clenched in fury. 

“You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the leader said.

“I don’t think so,” came John’s voice from behind you. The vampire spun you and himself around to face John, who shot the vampire in the middle of his forehead. He dropped you to the floor, and Dean rushed to your side.

You turned and watched a sigil appear on the man’s forehead where he’d been shot as his girlfriend screamed in agony. “Luther!”

The vampire slumped to the ground, dead. The vampiress started toward John, but was pulled away by her friend to get to their car. They took off, wheels screaming and leaving you in the dust.

***

You sat in the brothers’ motel room, having finished packing long before they had as usual. John entered the room and addressed his sons. “So, boys.”

They stopped packing and turned to face him. “Yes, sir.”

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he said crossly.

“Yes, sir.” Sam hung his head low.

Dean argued, “Yeah, but we saved your ass.”

John held his son’s challenging stare, and you swallowed nervously.

“You're right,” John admitted much to your surprise.

“I am?”

If it weren’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at Dean’s adorably clueless face.

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So… we go after this damn thing. Together.”

You smiled as the two boys said in unison, “Yes, sir.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @skys-writings @immagods @metalblindbitch @missmieux @yoongi-holland

hi there lovebugs!! quite a few tags were broken :( if i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss an update!!

[samofmine]

something about possessive desperate needy sam is like cocaine to me. whiny baby brother that pouts and whines and sniffles whenever dean gives attention to anyone or anything else and tries to keep that attention on him at all costs???? fuck yes.

but. something about dean being the needy whiny possessive one is absolute CRACK. TO ME. dean trying to please his baby brother, doing whatever he wants and whatever he needs and even trying to hold back and hide the way he feels because he doesn't want to overwhelm sammy but even holding back he looks absolutely insane to the average person. at school, some girl being like "im having a party you should come" and then him being like "nah gotta stay home with my brother" and the girl like "oh that sucks lol" and dean "??? i just said i'm staying with my brother did you not hear me???? is there anything better than that???" and the girl just. oh. ok. and trying again by insinuating she wants to hook up and dean just "yeah sure i'll let you know! gotta talk to sammy first" . and she just. leaves. confused af. and dean doesn't even notice cause he's been watching sam across the cafeteria while he eats his lunch, trying to read his lips to know what he's talking about with his classmate. like the absolute creep he is.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello it's the vegetable fic person here and- and- if you want could you write something about lookism guys finding out that their s/o is skipping their meals due to busy schedules or whatever 😭

Literally do not know why my asks revolve around food. I'd like if you include gun and jake but I literally leave it upto you love u

Hey vegetable anon! FINALLY getting round to this! Sorry for the wait!

Lookism x Reader: You, too busy to eat

G/N. No TW. Gun, Jakey, Goo, Sammy

Your boyfriend is concerned.

Skipping the odd meal, forgetting to eat, day dictated by a busy schedule - they get it. Except they have noticed this developing into a bit of an ongoing habit, one that is unwelcome and they wouldn't like to encourage.

They've also taken note of the way your clothes hang a bit looser, your cheeks looking a little sunken, and the dullness in your eyes.

They'll have to take matters into their own hands.

Gun Park

Gun learns a lot of new things, a lot about himself with you.

He never used to care about other people, least of all their diet.

After all, why should he? Even when his duties include being Crystal's bodyguard, what she got up to is none of his concern as long as she was safe.

However, with you, that's a whole other story. Whenever you're feeling sad, down, out of sorts. Gun feels a prickle of unease, affecting him until he finds out how to make you smile again.

And when your smile does come out, directed at him, because of him, he can barely describe it. Something not even the thrill of a fight can touch. Like being bathed in sunlight, directly touched by the sun's caress.

His sentimentality is something new he discovered too.

Gun peers down at the food order in his hand as he strides towards your home. All your favourite dishes from your favourite restaurant.

He's not sure he completely likes his softness with you, but as long as you do, he can't bring himself to mind.

Jake Kim

It starts with pursed lips and worried eyes, Jake's hands roving over your body.

Of course he thinks you're beautiful and as long as you're healthy and happy, it doesn't matter.

The worry is that you're not healthy and happy, that you're not eating out of stress. That whenever Jake has the time to cook for you, you will demolish every crumb in sight.

It's all the other times when he's too busy.

The solution, devised by Jake, is a revolving door of Big Deal members at your front step. At regular intervals with your favourite snacks or breakfast, lunch, dinner whenever your boyfriend can't make it.

.

.

"Morning, Y/N. Boss says hi!" Jason hands over a small container of food.

.

.

"Favourite snacks for boss's favourite," Brad grins at you.

.

.

"Jake says he'll see you tonight," Jerry averts your eyes, cheeks dusting with pink at the implication.

.

.

"Boss says," Lineman grimaces, staring to the heavens and wondering why this is now his life, "he loves you and to eat well. Rest well."

After a pause-

"Jason," Lua chides, barely able to keep the smirk off her face, "What else?"

Lineman flushes crimson, hand clenched white knuckled around your food," If you don't then... he said he'll make sure to...," Seriously. Fuck his life. "-punish you."

Goo Kim

"Say ahh!" Your boyfriend holds the spoonful of rice up to your lips. How on earth he has even made a game of this you don't know.

You keep your eye on him but turn your head away. "Goo."

"C'mon, do it for your Goo Bear."

"..."

"..."

He's not grinning. Not his usual slimey smile, not even his soft lift of the lips for you.

He's also not affecting his faux pout. Where he juts out his bottom lip and pleads with large eyes.

That unfortunately for you, he quickly learned that he will get his way 99% of the time.

Instead all you get are brows furrowed with worry and an expression that's trying to be joyful but doesn't fully mask the apprehension.

It's jarring whenever you get a glimpse of Goo's genuine concern, and touching too. Your boyfriend must really be worried about you to put up this whole charade.

Fine. You give in.

Opening your mouth just wide enough, "Ah-"

Goo breathes a sigh of relief, "There we go!"

Samuel Seo

The alarm on his phone vibrates.

Samuel excuses himself from the meeting, ignoring the disapproval radiating from Eugene. It doesn't matter. Some things are more important.

You pick up only after a couple of rings.

"Hey Sammy," A nickname that he at first hated but absolutely loves now. How could he not when you say it with such affection?

"Y/N," and even saying your name relieves some of his stress of the day, "Did you remember to eat dinner?"

"Yep!"

Samuel hears the smile in your voice. You're never annoyed with his calls, with him asking the same questions. You understand it only comes from a place of concern, a place of love. The way he calls you, like clockwork, despite his hectic schedule makes your heart hurt.

"I made some extra for you too!"

Samuel peers through the boardroom window. The figureheads sitting there, discussing something or another. He used to relish being a part of this, dream about one day ruling over it all.

Yet now, all he can think about is wanting to be with you.

He responds simply and honestly, "I can't wait to see you tonight."

[kayleighwinchester]

Five Things You Know About Dean Winchester - and One You Don't: I

((Alright, here we go! The start of a slightly bigger project - but still for @artyandink's Jensen-a-Thon! I debated on the best way to post this, whether it should be in parts or all in one, and I've decided to do parts. I remember when I was on Tumblr last, the 'five things you do/one you don't' format was super popular, so here's my take on that! This, again, is in the same general -verse as Downpour, Rocks and Rom Coms, and Long Story! As always, enjoy! Feedback is always welcome!)) Dean Winchester was a mystery. 

It was one you were slowly unraveling bit by bit, visit by visit; he would climb in your window every month or so, stay a few days, and disappear again by the end of the week – but slowly, you were learning about him, about who he was, beyond the charismatic smile and easy, confident attitude.

.*

The first thing you learned – really learned, beyond the charisma and charm – about Dean came after an evening with a few too many glasses of wine. You’d gotten home from your last class of the day before summer break to find Dean rummaging through your fridge, and he’d very helpfully informed you that your A/C was out. As the day drew into evening, and the temperature outside began to drop a few degrees, you’d settled in on the grass in the back yard with a bottle of wine to enjoy the breeze rather than suffer indoors, waiting for the house to cool down to a tolerable temperature.

“I don’t think I could do it,” He said, leaning back on one elbow. “The whole college thing. Think I’d go nuts.” You got the distinct impression, both from his tone, and the wry, humorless smirk that flashed across his lips, that he had far more colorful language for what he’d do, but opted to go the more diplomatic route, if only for your sake. He took a drink of his wine, glancing down at the glass with a pensive expression. Admittedly, he didn’t seem like a wine kind of guy – whenever he’d come bearing alcohol, it was always beer or hard liquor. Nonetheless, he took to it with relative grace – though not without a decent amount of teasing thrown your way, first.

“What’d’you mean?” You glanced his way, his thoughtful expression a welcome distraction from the relatively boring sight of your backyard. 

“Not really the brains of my family, y’know? That’s Sammy.” He didn’t elaborate on who Sammy was, and with how often he clammed up the moment his family was mentioned, you opted not to ask. “I was always better at the other stuff.” He’d never been this upfront about his past; maybe it was the alcohol loosening his tongue. Maybe he just trusted you a bit more now, after a year of – well, whatever it was you two were doing. “I mean, one of the earliest memories I got with my Dad is shootin’ beer bottles off a fence.”

“Were you any good?” You asked, not sure if he was being entirely serious - he gave a wry grin, glancing your way. 

“Got every one of ‘em.” He said proudly, but you could see that pride tempered with just a bit of something else that you couldn’t quite place – something you weren’t sure you liked. He glanced back down into his glass, staring at the wine once more. “I’m good at that kind’a stuff, y’know? Not –...” He waved a hand back toward your bedroom window – you knew he was aiming for your desk, your textbooks. 

You didn’t entirely understand what ‘that kind’a stuff’ entailed; the shooting, sure, but that seemed like a relatively self-contained skill. Still, it didn’t seem like he particularly wanted that part of the conversation to continue, and you could see the tension you hadn’t even realized had built up in his shoulders slowly ease as you offered, 

“You know I’ve never even held a gun?”

It was like prompting a kid to talk about their favorite TV show. He hesitated for a moment, green eyes searching yours, as if gauging if you were actually interested, or simply trying to change the subject. Apparently, he was satisfied with what he saw – he launched into what you were sure was the most detailed and enthusiastic explanation of the basics of firearms and firearm safety he could possibly give, one that you, even with your lack of knowledge, could easily follow – even carefully retrieving the silver pistol from the back of his waistband. 

That – his simple, straightforward explanation, in and of itself, was a talent – breaking something down to such bare-bones basics that anyone could understand. It was a skill that not everyone had – you’d learned as much very quickly in your first two years of college. He made it seem easy. You’d seen it already, the first time you’d asked him for help with your car – he’d absently explained what he was doing as he did it, why it was making that weird-ass fucking noise – but this was another beast entirely. 

He caught your eye, and, admittedly, you hadn’t even realized you’d been staring at him. “What?” He asked, the beginnings of a sheepish smile curling onto his lips. 

“Nothing.” You said quickly, eyes shifting down to the gun in his lap, taking in the engraved silver and the mother-of-pearl grips, all shimmering just ever so slightly in the fading evening light. “Just –... You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen Dean smile – genuinely smile – so wide, or his cheeks flush so red.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Remember Me - Part 1

Michaela’s mundane life takes a strange turn when she has a random encounter with a very attractive stranger in her local bar. It must be déjà vu – or maybe it isn’t.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Michaela

Word Count: 2031

Warnings: None in Part 1, eventual smut

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

A shot and beer hit the bar in front of Michaela, and she handed a ten to the bartender with a vague smile and “Thank you.” It had been a very long week, so it was time to medicate a little and try to relax before going home to her too-quiet house.

The bar was almost always sparsely populated, and that night was no exception. She glanced around the room, finding nothing new to hold her attention, so she focused on the television playing “Wheel of Fortune” and downed her shot.

She and the bartender exchanged small talk – she didn’t really know her very well, but it passed the time. She was almost finished with her second beer, scrolling on her phone when the girl leaned over the bar to whisper in her ear. “Do you know that guy?”

She looked up at her, confused, and the bartender quirked her head to the right. She turned slowly, and it was as if time shifted down, sounds muted, her vision narrowing its focus to the tall, broad-shouldered stranger at the end of the bar. He was staring at her with fierce intensity, his eyes narrowed and his brows drawn together as if he was trying like hell to remember something.

She knew exactly how he felt.

It was right there, dancing around the outskirts of memory. He was definitely not the kind of man you’d forget, but she’d never seen him before, she’d swear to it. A nagging voice inside her head, though, was telling her it was a lie, that she should know him – that she did know him.

She slid off her bar stool and moved slowly towards him, irresistibly pulled into his orbit. Even in the dim light that faded most colors into nondescript greys and browns, his eyes were a striking shade of green. He swallowed hard, dropping his gaze and taking a step back, suddenly uncomfortable. She tilted her head, still looking at his face. “Do – do I know you from somewhere?”

He cleared his throat, leading into an awkward laugh. “Yeah, you look really familiar to me, too. Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare like a creeper.”

She leaned one elbow on the bar as he looked into her face again. “Seriously, I have the strangest feeling...”

He nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. I, uh…” He cleared his throat again, clearly nervous. “You wanna get a table? Maybe we can figure it out.”

She gnawed at her lip for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, just – let me grab my stuff.” He watched her walk away, grabbing the phone from his pocket and dialing.

“Sammy? Yeah, I’m at the bar, it’s Sandy’s or Randy’s or something. There’s a girl here… Yeah, very funny. No, Sam, I think there’s something weird going on. Witchy, or… I don’t know. Just come down here, see if you know this girl. Okay.” She watched him put his phone back into his pocket as she approached him, and he smiled. “Just letting my brother know where I am. You – ah – you want another beer?”

“Sure. Another beer sounds great, thanks.”

He motioned to the bartender, who acknowledged his waved bottle with a nod. He turned back to the table where Michaela had already claimed a spot, pulling out the chair across from her. “My name is Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester.”

“Michaela Barrett. Nice to meet you. Or see you again. Whatever this is.” She smiled, a little self-conscious, and ducked her head down to look at the table, thanking the bartender for the beer as she closed her hand around it.

“I can’t believe I’d forget a smile like that,” Dean said softly, and she blushed, glancing up at him to catch the genuine confusion on his face. He wasn’t flirting. He was serious. She let her eyes roam over the contours of his face, the shape of his mouth, the breadth of his shoulders, then back to his eyes. He was looking right back at her, and she felt her face grow warm again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, I just – I can’t believe I’d forget you, either. This is so...”

“Insane?” He was smiling, and she responded in kind.

“Yeah. Kind of.” She looked up as the bell above the door rang, and her eyes widened a little. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Another stranger, very tall with shaggy dark hair, had entered the room, and she was having that weird feeling of recognition that she’d experienced with Dean, although not quite as intense.

Dean turned in his chair. “Sammy. Somebody I want you to meet.” Michaela watched as the man neared their table, his eyes never leaving her face. “Mikey, this is my brother, Sam.”

She stared at Dean, her eyes wide. “How did you know… I never told you I go by Mikey.”

Dean shifted self-consciously in his seat. “Michaela. This is Michaela Barrett.”

Sam nodded to her, returning her uncomfortable smile, and took a seat, looking at his brother in disbelief. “Okay, now I see what you mean. This is...”

“Crazy, we know,” Mikey interjected, looking into his face. “So you think you know me, too? Did you guys used to live here?”

Dean shook his head. “I’ve never been here. Have you ever been in Kansas? Or South Dakota?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve lived in Ohio my whole life. I’ve never been out of this state. Except maybe a trip when I was a kid or something, but otherwise...” She took several swallows of her beer and took a deep breath, blowing it out between her lips. “I’m freaking out a little. I’m – I’ll be right back.” She stood suddenly, pushing her chair back and rushing towards the restrooms in the back. Sam turned an incredulous look on his brother.

“What the hell, Dean?”

“I know! I have no idea. You think something witchy?” His quizzically raised eyebrows slowly lowered themselves into a frown as Sam watched.

“What?”

“Something witchy? Or something angel-y.”

Sam’s expression tightened as well as he met Dean’s glare. “Shit. You think?”

“I think we need to talk to Cas. See if he knows anything. Tonight.”

“I agree.”

Mikey made her way slowly back to the table, and Dean watched with concern as she took her seat, her hands shaking a little. “Hey, Michaela – you okay?”

“Really – Mikey’s okay.” Dean’s lips twitched into a one-sided smile and he nodded. “I just… this has me spun out a little. I think I need to go home. Can I give you my number, maybe we can talk again?”

“Yeah, sure. And I’ll give you mine.” He looked intently into her eyes as she handed him her phone. “We’ll figure this out. We will.” They exchanged phone numbers, and then they all headed out to the small parking lot. “Sure you’re okay to drive home?” Dean asked as he walked her to her car. She nodded, looking up at him with a lost expression.

“I’m okay. I’m cold sober right now. And besides, my place is just a few blocks, so - not like I have far to go. I just wish I knew what was happening.”

“If we figure anything out, we’ll let you know, I promise. Be careful.”

He leaned in, his hand on her face, and kissed her. Sam stared in shock, harshly whispering, “Dean!” and watching his brother jerk away from her as if he’d been burned.

Dean looked at Sam, his eyes wide, then back to Mikey, who was blinking up at him with her mouth open. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

She closed her mouth and swallowed hard, her fingers brushing over her lips. “I – um – it’s okay. I mean, funny thing is, it was like… like I almost expected it? Like it was – kind of normal.” She turned back to her car, pulling the door open and getting behind the wheel. “Okay, well… don’t forget to call if you… you know.”

“We will. G’night.” Sam raised his hand in a little wave, and she backed out, then headed down the street, Dean still staring after her.

“Dean, what the hell?”

“Sammy, I don’t know. It just happened, I didn’t even think about it. She’s not the only one who’s spun out over this.” He jerked the driver’s side door open. “I need some sleep, and we need to talk to Cas ASAP. I’m going nuts, here.”

The next morning dawned grey and rainy, and Mikey dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. Dean had called, wanting to stop over and bring a friend of theirs to meet her, and she agreed, although she couldn’t see how he would be able to help. It was all just too strange, and the dreams she’d had the night before didn’t set her mind at ease.

When she answered the door, Sam and Dean were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee, bacon and cinnamon rolls hot out of the oven, and it took effort for Dean not to pull her in for a bear hug when he saw the food set out on the large coffee table.

“So, where’s this friend of yours?” she asked after they had filled their plates, watching Dean’s enthusiasm for the food with a smile.

“He’s meeting us here. Should be coming soon.”

“So – how is he going to help? I mean, is he a hypnotist or something? I don’t understand...”

Dean and Sam exchanged a cautious glance, and Dean turned to face her. “Well, we should really have a talk. Some of it’s gonna sound a little weird.”

“Weird. Weird like the dream I had last night, you and I fighting some kind of monsters with sharp teeth, chopping their heads off? And a whole trunk full of weapons in that car of yours? I think I must be losing my mind,” Mikey laughed, and then let the smile melt from her face at the brothers’ expressions. “What?”

Dean stood up, holding out a hand. “Come with me, Mikey.” She stared at him warily for a second, then took his hand and let him lead her out to the trunk of the Impala. He unlocked and opened it, then stepped back, watching her eyes widen at the sight.

“What the fuck.” The color was draining from her face, and Dean took hold of her arm.

“I seriously think maybe we’d better sit down for this.” He led her back into the house to the sofa, seating her there and taking a place beside her.

“Dean, I don’t understand...”

“Sam and I – we hunt monsters, Mikey. Like the kind you dreamed about. Those were probably vampires, they’ve got a mouth full of sharp teeth, not the two fangs like in the movies. And beheading is how you kill them.”

“Vampires.”

“Yeah.” Her face was white, and Dean reached for her hand. “Mikey, breathe.”

“You’re telling me vampires are real.”

“And a lot of other things. Most people don’t know they exist, unless they’re unlucky enough to run into them. But they’re out there, and my brother and I take care of them. Save people from them, as much as we can. And I think, maybe, that you used to hunt with us.”

“You think I used to help you cut the heads off monsters.”

“And I think somehow that our memories got erased. Possibly by an angel.”

She stared at him as if broccoli had just sprouted from his ear. “Sure. Probably. I mean, who else would erase our memories but an angel?” A firm knock sounded at the door, and she pulled her hand from Dean’s, going to the door and continuing as she opened it, still looking back at Dean. “You’re being serious right now? I’m not still having one of my weird dreams?” She turned to face the visitor still standing at the door, staring into his very blue eyes for a frozen second, then almost tripping over her feet as she scrambled backward in terror, moving behind the sofa to stand behind Dean. “Stay away from me!”

Cas stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Hello, Michaela.”

Tags for my lovelies: 

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@alwaystiredandconfused   @just-another-busyfangirl

[ikkosu]

Ikko! Ikko! I've always had a thing for shaterred glass characters.... Have you ever imagined yourself with sg prowl? It could kidnap you for whatever purpose only imagine the optics red and you You have nowhere to run. 😈😈

Sammy!❤️

If SG prowl is the opposite. Then I'd reckon he's one big of a dumbass. Calm scheming asshole. I mean he's still cunning but braincell probably shared with Springer is still in the equation.

I haven't read the SG comics but I'd definitely would 100% want to be kidnapped by him. Not because he's hot as fuck but because his 'security' is so shit everytime you're taken by him finding a way to get out is is as easy as finding Starscream's ego in that confined metal Twinmk body of his.

At this point you know his place like the palm of your hand. Hopping on and off whenever you please, pretending 'oh no!! Prowl's out to get me again!!' and after like a bunch of sticky pounding you waddle away to the deceptions while Prowl is having an aneurysm wondering how in unicron's two ass you got out.

Prowl. You have one door. It's not locked. And the lock — it's also cheap. Why did he even have a door anyway? Don't they use like, idk, gates. Even if he did he wouldn't even remember the fucking password.

And Springer is mommy's boy. Always the one grabbing the human. Always the one running after them when they'd left for the umpteenth time again. And, just as always, has one singular braincell that just explodes when he even tries to form a thought.

He'd be the more saner one. At this point he's not longer holding up his blaster when he sees you again for the hundredth time, on the deception battlefield. the deceptions themselves aren't even concerned anymore.

"They're taken!" Poor new deception barges into the briefing room and everyone rises up with an alarmed look.

"Which human?" One of the cons clarified with a narrow look.

"(Y/n)!"

The new con was expecting everyone to scramble out with a series of shouts, push and shove, but all they get is a blank look, a collective vents, and they all sit back down again, neutral stature. "Give it a few days. They'll be back."

And you did. Like a cat disappearing from the house, coming back home with new food on its maw. Said food is classified blueprints from the autobots. The only person wary though is Megatron. He's not sure how you're able to handle this everytime. But he got used to it, silently watching as you stroll into base with questioning bruises on your neck.

"You're aware you're fraternizing with the enemy?" He approaches you own evening.

You shrug. "A good stress relief. But hey, at least I've got you in intel.."

That shut him up real good.

[headcaasefiction]

Kinktober 2024

Day 2: Pet Play

(Dean Winchester/AFAB!Reader)

Minors Do Not Interact

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 2,478

Summary: Y/N has been extremely lonely while Dean has been away on a hunt. He tasks her with coming up with a surprise for him upon his return.

Warnings: Kitten!Play, Pet Play, Blowjobs, Vaginal Sex, Anal Play, Sex Toys.

It has been two long weeks since Sam and Dean have been gone on a hunt, leaving you sad and lonely, and especially missing Dean more than you thought possible.

Every night since he’s been gone you lay in the bed the two of you share, draped in one of the oversized T-shirts that smell like him, vibrator pressed to your clit as you cum and cry out his name. But every time you come down from the high, it makes your heart ache. Orgasms don’t feel the same unless you’re wrapped up in his arms afterward.

“When will you be coming home? I miss you so much, I hate being alone here…”

“I know baby, I know, I miss you too. Just a few more days, we’re driving back from Vermont in the morning. Try to keep yourself busy…how about you come up with a surprise for me when I get home, and if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you cum as many times as you want.”

That makes your breath stop short and your heart quicken; heat flushing your face, settling in your stomach and pulsing down between your thighs.

A surprise…as many times as I want…

“Yes, Sir~”

“That’s my girl.”

The next few days roll by in a flash since Dean gave you a task for his return. It kept the loneliness at bay, and forced you to try and think outside of the kink routine that you and him normally indulge in. He said he wanted a surprise and you were determined to actually give him one. So you go to a specialty sex shop, overnight a few items from Amazon, and set up everything you could possibly need in the room you and Dean share.

You’re vibrating with excitement when you get a call from him letting you know they are only two hours away. Perfect timing to shower, groom, and make yourself up to be the most irresistible surprise that he has ever seen. You tell him you love him, and sink into a warm, silky bath smelling of lavender and jasmine.

“Y/N! We’re back, babe!” Dean shouts as he and Sam jog down the stairs from the front door, Dean making a beeline for the bedroom quarters.

“Someone’s in a hurry, shocking not to see you go directly for the kitchen,” Sam snorts, setting his bag down on the dining room table.

Dean spins around, still walking backward as he addresses his brother, “Yeah, well I’m the one who has a beautiful woman waiting for me in my room, Sammy. Jealous yet?”

Sam rolls his eyes while crossing his arms, just a little bit defensive, “Whatever man, just keep the noise to a minimum, I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

With a victorious smirk Dean twists back around, making long strides down the many corridors and hallways, until he is finally in front of the bedroom door. His heart is thumping hard against his chest, and he almost just barges right in because he is aching that badly to see you. Instead he hesitates for a moment, and then gently knocks.

“Sweetheart, I’m home. Can I come in?”

He pauses for a moment, hoping to immediately hear your reply…but is met with silence. He knocks one more time, and when he still doesn’t hear your voice, cracks open the door and walks in.

“Y/N? Babe, where are you? I was just - …” The sight before him makes him stop dead in his tracks, and steals the words right out of his mouth. Wordlessly he drops his duffle bag at his feet, and slowly approaches the bed.

There you are, curled up sleeping in a nest of pillows and soft, fluffy blankets, an absolute vision. You’re wearing a set of kitty ears, tail, and paw-pad mittens, a collar with a large bell, a matching bralette and thong set, and stockings that go up to your thighs.

Dean swallows hard, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip as he rubs over his jaw and five o’clock shadow. He’s trying hard to control himself, his dick beginning to strain against the fly of his jeans as he gazes at you, peacefully curled around a satin body pillow, plush ass and smooth skin on full display.

On the edge of the bed is an envelope with the lettering “Please read me” written on the back. He picks it up and softly tears it open, being careful to be quiet and not wake you. Inside the envelope is a letter that reads as follows:

“To whom it may concern, this little kitten was abandoned on the streets and is in desperate need of a new home and owner. If you could find it in your heart to take care of her, she will be a loyal and loving pet.”

As soon as he’s done reading he sets the letter down on the nightstand, then kneels on the bed over you and caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. In response you bunch up your face in an adorable pout, making him chuckle lightly and smile.

“Wake up precious thing,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your nose, which makes you sigh out a small noise and languidly stretch out your limbs, “I’m here to take care of you.”

After a few moments your eyes flutter open, big and round and shining with innocence as you stare back at him with a surprised and curious look. You cling to the body pillow you’ve been snuggled up to, shyly covering the front of your body, yet leaning into the soft touch of his hand on your face.

“Poor kitten, were you left out in the rain all alone?” He asks, fingertips stroking up the side of your face, tucking a stray hair out of the way before caressing the soft, fuzzy kitty ears on your head with a tender reverence.

You squeeze the pillow even tighter, and hide the bottom part of your face while you nod; eyes now brimmed with tears, vulnerability rolling off of you in waves.

“Oh no, don’t cry, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you belong to me now,” he coos, carefully removing the pillow from your grasp, which earns him a little whimper from you, “You’ll never be cold or lonely again, if you’ll have me…want to be my kitten?”

He’s climbed further on the bed, hovers over you with his arms on either side of your shoulders, one knee inched in between your legs. Your arms are now spread out by your head, and somehow while he spoke to you, in an almost hypnotic way, you realized that he had gotten you on your back.

“Y-yes,” you answer quietly under your breath, teeth sinking into your bottom lip with gentle force, cheeks tinged pink, “I want to belong to you…”

Your answer makes him grin ear to ear, “So she speaks! What a special little one you are,” he says with a predatory and wolfish smile, leaning farther down so your lips are close to brushing together, “And so pretty too. Let me show you just how pretty you are.”

Without any further hesitation he kisses you, taking both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head. You whimper into his mouth as your thighs are spread wider apart, his knee nudging your clit through your panties, making you subconsciously press down into him for more contact. He opens you up with his tongue, the tip prying against your own, silky and wet as they slide together, sending intoxicating tingles to your lips, clit and fingertips.

Suddenly he sits up, shrugs off his flannel and pulls his T-shirt off in one motion, tossing it to the corner of the room. He palms himself through his jeans, his fingers then making quick work of his belt buckle and the top button of his fly.

“Want to make your new owner feel good, sweetheart? Get on your hands and knees.”

You are quick to obey, scrambling to sit up and kneel on all fours in front of him on the bed. His jeans are tossed, forgotten on the floor, and you can see the very prominent outline of his straining cock through his boxers. He puts his thumb in his waistband and pulls them down ever so slightly, revealing his happy trail and taunt hip bones.

“Are you going to be a good girl and give me some sweet kitten licks from that pretty mouth?” He murmurs, his other hand threading through your hair, softly gripping your scalp.

You nod enthusiastically, eyes lidded with want as he shoves his boxers down and frees his thick cock, pushing it past your lips in a single motion. Immediately he begins a brutal pace, his hips piston in a sharp rhythm that has you gagging and moaning around his length as it bullies the back of your throat. Little droplets of spit roll down your chin, your nose pressed to his abdomen while he deep throats you. You swallow around him, making him groan in ecstasy before he removes you from his dick with a wet pop.

“Fuck, so good for me… if you keep that up I’m not going to last,” he pants, thumb wiping the drool from your chin then cupping the side of your face, holding your head up for you as you gasp for air in a blissed out daze, “And my little kitten needs some love too.”

In a swift motion he flips you around so you are face down and ass up, and at this angle he realizes that the tail you are wearing is not just pinned to the back of your panties…

“Fuck…” he breathes, sliding the thong down and off your thighs and legs, revealing your fluffy tail to be attached to a plug that is nestled inside your ass.

He fondles the curve of one of your cheeks, spreading one to get a closer look at your stretched hole, finger tips teasing against the sensitive rim before twirling his fingers around your tail. You mewl, your stocking feet kicking slightly at the sensation, “Siiiir!~”

With a smirk he smacks one side of your ass and slides a finger through the slick folds of your pussy, laughing as he makes you wiggle and squirm, “Maybe my little kitten isn’t so innocent after all.”

Earlier in the day you made sure to fully stock the nightstand with toys, restraints, and plenty of lubricant. It makes Dean even harder than he thought possible with the amount of thought he can tell you put into this. He strokes his leaking cock at the site of you before him; your plush, glossy cunt, your swollen clit, the cute little details of your outfit. He’s going to make you cum so many times tonight you see the cosmos.

“Please fuck me, Sir…” You beg.

You don’t have to ask him twice. He glides the tip of his cock against your entrance and easily bottoms out at the first thrust, making you moan into one of your pillows and arch your back into him. The pleasure of being filled almost overwhelming as he begins to fuck into you at an earth shattering speed, immediately hitting your G spot as you feel his cock and the plug of your tail rubbing against each other through the sensitive layer of skin inside you.

You lose yourself as he pounds into you with abandon, the harsh motion jingling the bell on your collar with every movement, coaxing moans and whimpers from your mouth with every stroke. You cry out as he props one of his knees up and grabs one of your legs, elevating it to rest on his thigh, your ankle slightly curved around his back. The modified position moves you to your side and opens you up further as he toys with your slippery clit, angling his thrusts even deeper.

Before you know it you are cumming on his cock, your drenched thighs shaking while he caresses your face and crashes your lips together, fucking you through it as sparks flash behind your closed eyes. He does this for what feels like hours in any position he can manipulate your body in to, over stimulating your clit till you are on the brink of tears and you have lost track of how many times you have finished.

Finally, after he’s folded you in half, and you’re desperately clinging to his shoulders with his teeth nipping into your collarbone that you beg for him to cum inside you. Those words and the wrecked and vulnerable expression on your face are enough to do him in. He cums inside you with a low groan, his face pressed against the pulse point of your neck as your pussy milks every drop from his throbbing cock.

The two of you are spent, panting heavily as you both try to steady your breathing. He rolls onto his back and pulls your exhausted form into his arms, stroking your hair and ears as you lay your head on his chest and listen to his adjusting heartbeat. After a few moments of silence, you finally speak up.

“Welcome home,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his jaw and wrapping your arms around his torso, “Were you surprised?”

He chuckles while rubbing your shoulder, a bright grin on his face, “Yes, actually. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I love how cute you look in all of this… how does that plug feel in your ass?”

You blush, hiding your face against his neck for a moment, feeling a little embarrassed, “It feels good, I like it…”

“Mmm, well it sure looks good,” he teases you, reaching down to pet the soft tail, “I think you should be my kitten a little more often, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be your pet any time you want me to,” you purr to him in between kisses, “I’d do it all the time if you asked me.”

“Well I’m not quite done with you yet tonight,” he smiles, licking his lips and sitting up to grab a mini vibrator wand you left on the night stand, “So, let’s take a few minutes to recover, and just like I promised, I will use this on you while you cum as many times as you’d like.”

You can feel the heat roll through your stomach once more as he dangles the vibrator in front of you, his other hand grazing along the collar you’re wearing before flicking the bell. His promise is already making you wet again, your slick mixing with his cum that’s leaking out of your used and willing cunt.

“Yes, Sir ~”

Main Masterlist

[lotanxiety]

You’re not alone

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean and Sam notice you aren’t taking good care of yourself and they are worried about you. Dean talks you through it and offers support.

Warnings: mentions of ED, SH, and depression, this has some seriously heavy shit so if this triggers you PLS don’t read, fluff with dean

——————————————————

You have lived in the bunker with the boys for 3 years. Lately, your mental health has been really bad, but you were trying to hide it from Sam and Dean. With everything they dealt with on a daily basis, the last thing you wanted them to worry about was you.

It all started 4 months ago when you started having nightmares and flashbacks of the times you almost died. You were pretty sure you had PTSD, but with your lifestyle, therapy wasn’t really an option. You grew up with abusive parents which didn’t help with the accumulating trauma. The body keeps score and it seemed to all be catching up with you now. First, it was the nightmares, then the dissociating. The only times you felt alive were when you would fight monsters which led to your newest bad habit.

Whenever you didn’t feel real or got angry with yourself for whatever reason, you would take it out on your hips. It was something you could control. It reminded you that you’re real and it’s served as a punishment when you felt you deserved it. Seeing the red lines across your hips made you happy when everything else seemed grey.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, it was increasingly more difficult to get out of bed each morning. You would forget basic human necessities like eating, drinking, or bathing. You were able to hide your struggles before, but now it’s becoming noticeable. On the days the boys were home, you would fake it the best you could so they wouldn’t pick up on anything wrong, but not anymore. Maybe you want someone to notice. Maybe you finally want to be saved and cared for the way you save others.

———————-

*around noon*

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Dean asked Sam walking into the kitchen.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day.” Sam said. “Have you noticed.. she seems a little quiet lately. I also noticed she’s been having more nightmares lately.”

“I noticed that too, I can hear her scream out sometimes. I mean we all get nightmares, but these seem bad. Have you not talked to her about it at all?” Dean questioned.

“No, I thought you would’ve mentioned it.” Sam said.

“Dude, she’s obviously going through something and neither of us have checked up on her? Way to go.” Dean scoffed as he headed in the direction of your room.

—————————

You were laying on your bed, staring at the wall thinking of all the ways you have messed up lately. The last hunt you were out on, you made a mistake that almost got Sammy killed. Now, you opt to stay back and reference the lore. You replayed every mistake over and over in your head. Suddenly a knock interrupts your ‘greatest hits’.

You clear your throat, “um, who is it?” you ask.

“It’s Dean, can i come in.”

You look around to the mess of your room, random items taking up space on your bed with you. Suddenly, you become embarrassed and ashamed. “I- uh, do you need something?” You shout to the man on the other side of the door.

“I haven’t seen you all day, I just wanted to check up on you. Are you feeling okay?” Dean asks with concern.

*coughing loudly* “No I think I’ve come down with something, you should stay away.” You say, trying to sound sickly.

“Oh, ok. I can bring you some soup if you like” Dean asks, knowing you’re lying but trying to get through to you.

“I’m not hungry, thanks though” You say, pushing any kind of help away. You didn’t understand why you do this. You want help but then it comes and you resist at all costs. Maybe because this mess you’re feeling is comfortable, familiar. You’ve always been messed up, but now it’s just manifesting on the outside. When it was bottled up, it was easy to hide from everyone, but this is much harder and every lie you tell drains you more and more.

“You need to eat” Dean contested.

“I said no, now can you please go” The words felt like knives being thrown at the closed door. You didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but Deans pushing set off a nerve. Immediately you felt bad, but knew you couldn’t look at his face so you sat still in your bed as you heard hushed footsteps fade away. Feeling hot tears burn in your eyes, you walked over to your bathroom, and grabbed your razor. Anger towards yourself coursed through your veins, into your hands, as you unleashed hell onto your body. Saying to yourself, “You deserve this for being mean to Dean, he was just trying to be nice. He doesn’t deserve that. What’s wrong with you, etc.”

When you’re satisfied, your hips are stained red. You clean up and go back to laying in your bed, as you cry yourself to sleep.

——————-

That evening

“I don’t know Sammy, I think there’s something really wrong. Earlier- the way she spoke to me. It wasn’t her. I need to talk to her, to see her face, but she keeps pushing me away. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried… I’m worried it’s worse than just nightmares.” Dean confides to his brother.

“Yeah, I’m worried too. Maybe we can set up a movie night in the Dean cave and coax her out of her room. I think having some quality time, not worried about monsters could help.” Sam suggested.

“Okay, yeah. You run to the store and get some supplies and I’ll break out blankets and pillows. Meet back here in 30.” Dean says hopeful. He hated knowing that you were upset, but he wanted this to help so badly. He worked hard at getting his Dean cave set up perfectly. He even made a blanket fort. Once Sam and Dean finished setting everything up, the came to knock on your door.

You had just woken up from your restless nap. Unfortunately, the day wasn’t even over so you were back to laying in misery. You heard another knock on your door.

“Hey uh, we need your help in the Dean cave” Dean said from behind the door, you could almost hear the smile in his voice even though you couldn’t see him. While most other times you would decline, your curiosity got the best of you.

“Uhh okay, let me use the bathroom and I’ll be right there.” You said, getting up from your bed, ignoring the terrible headache. It stemmed from a combination of lack of food, water, good sleep, and crying so much. You looked in the mirror, repulsed by the face staring back at you, so you got to work making yourself as presentable as possible. After a much need brush through your hair (and teeth), a change of clothes, and some light makeup, you felt okay enough to make your public appearance. You left your bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind you to hide the mess, and headed towards the Dean cave.

When Dean and Sam laid their eyes on you for the first time in days, their mouths dropped. You looked awful. Bags under your eyes and barely skin and bone. You were always skinny, but this- this was bad. Both of the brothers concern immediately sky rocketed, but being as smart as they are, they knew to play it off. They knew if they outright said anything, you’d get defensive and shut down. So they quickly glanced at each other and greeted you like any other day. You were too busy looking at the scene in front of you to notice the boys faces.

“What- what is all this” you say surveying the room in awe.

“We thought you could use a little pick me up movie night.” Sam said with a soft smile on his face. Dean turned away from you to face the tv. It was too hard to look at you. He blamed himself for not checking on you sooner. For not immediately knowing there was something deeper going on. The cases had distracted him from the problem right under his nose and he was so angry at himself. You instantly noticed the change in his demeanor, making you uneasy. You thought he was still mad at you for the way you spoke to him earlier in the day. You made a mental note to apologize later. Sam opened up the blanket to let you sit beside him and so you did. In front of you, there was a whole display of food. Burgers, fries, popcorn, candy, you name it. The sight instantly made you nauseous.

You thought that you didn’t deserve food. Your mind = your greatest enemy. You pretended not to notice the food and encouraged them to start the movie. It was Alice In Wonderland- your favorite childhood movie you let slip one night with Dean after a beer too many. You glance across Sam to Dean who is staring at the TV but not actually watching. Sam nudges some fries in your direction, to which you shake your head.

“No thanks” you whisper over the beginning scene of the movie.

“Cmon Y/N, you haven’t eaten all day.” Sam said.

“Oh no, I had some granola bars in my room. I’ve been snacking on those-“ You lied.

“No you haven’t” Dean said finally speaking to you.

“What-“ you say looking at him confused, trying to play this off quickly.

“I’m not sure you’ve eaten anything in days” Dean starts.

“Dean-“ Sam interjects, trying to keep his brother from pushing you away.

“No, Sammy. She’s sick. Look at her.” Dean states.

Immediately, tears well up in your eyes. You knew you didn’t look your best but hearing Dean say that. It was too much. You wanted to head straight to your room to cut again, but Dean wasn’t finished talking.

“Y/N, I can’t walk on eggshells about this- you look terrible. What is going on?” Dean says in a much softer tone than before, his anger fading into worry.

“Nothings… going on.” you say.

“That’s not true and we all know it, can you just talk to us?” Sam asks.

Suddenly, that defense mechanism hits you strong and you attack the boys you love more than anything. You can’t help it. “I SAID I’M FINE. WOULD YOU BOTH JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO BACK TO WORRYING ABOUT MONSTERS OR WHATEVER” you shout, exiting the room and heading straight for your bedroom.

You close the door behind you, still crying. The scene that just played out was one of your worst nightmares and partially why you have started staying locked in your room. You beeline for the bathroom to pick up the razor for a second time that day. You roll down your pants to the hidden canvas. Right before you can move, Dean bursts through your door.

You both freeze. Time stops for a couple seconds. Every mirage and illusion you’ve built over the past few months is shattered. The ugly, dirty truth is exposed. Your walls crumble to the ground. You refuse to lift your eyes from the ground as he approaches you. He takes the razor from your hands without saying a word and throws it to the other side of the bathroom and grabs you into his arms. You both crash to the floor, as you sob into chest. Dean hold you patiently while you let it all out. Everything you’ve been holding inside. There are a million thoughts going through Dean’s head, questions he has, but his main objective is just to be there for you. You needed him, and he wasn’t there. All the warning signs, ignored. He secretly blamed himself for letting it get this bad.

You both sit in the floor of your bathroom for a while. Your sobs slowly turned into quiet hiccups for air. You nervously lifted off of his chest, anxiously awaiting the conversation to follow the events that have just transpired. You finally make eye contact with Dean, his eyes are glassy and red.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Dean said barely above a whisper dragging his hand over your hair to brush it out of your tear soaked face.

You open and close your mouth, not expecting his response. “What are you sorry for?” you ask confused.

“I- I wasn’t there for you. I mean I knew something was off, but- but this. This is all my fault.” Dean says moving his hand to hold your cheek, a singular tear falling down his right cheek.

“No, no this isn’t your fault at all. I- I don’t know what to say.” You say, feeling the weight of the situation.

“You don’t have to say anything. We are going to get you some help. You’re not alone in this. You have Sam. You have me. This- this work is hard and I know you’ve had it rough, but you can and will get through this.” Dean says, as more tears begin to fall from your eyes, though you thought you couldn’t cry anymore.

“I need you to get better. I need my Y/N. Can you do that for me?” Dean asks, gently stroking your cheek and wiping the tears as they fall. You nod.

That night, the three of you work on tidying up your room. Dean filled Sam in privately and he wanted to help you in anyway he could. You guys went back to the Dean cave after your room was clean, and ate dinner. Dean even drank water with you instead of his normal beer so you would be more inclined to drink it.

Finally, it was time for bed. Dean walked to your room with you. “I wish you would’ve told me what has been going on with you, but I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t” Dean said.

“You didn’t- I just didn’t want you to worry about me when you’ve got a whole world and billions of people to worry about.” You say in response.

“I will always worry about you first. I care about you Y/N. I am here for you no matter what.” Dean says firmly, pulling you in for a hug. His chin rests on your head as you two stand in an embrace mid hallway.

“Dean, could you maybe- um stay with me tonight?” You ask.

“Of course”

Dean grabs your hand and pulls you towards your bed. He strips down to his boxers and climbs in, holding a spot next to him for you. You curl up next to him, feeling the heat radiate off his body, comforting you. “Thank you” you whisper as you quickly drift off into a much needed, nightmare free, deep sleep. Dean leans over to kiss your head as he whispers, “I love you Y/N”.

[jerzwriter]

This series tells the story of how Tobias and Casey's second child, Brooke Vivian Carrick, came to be. In this third part, the first trimester is behind them, and the happy couple spreads the news—first to their two-year-old daughter, Samantha, and then to their friends.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Characters: Samantha Carrick (F!OC), Ethan Ramsey, Jackie Varma, Sienna Trinh, Aurora Emery, Bryce Lahella, Jordan Carrick (M!OC) Rating: Teen Words: Part 1: 685 / Part 2: 1,009 Summary: See above. A/N: I have artwork for this series, and I hoped to have it posted by yesterday (August 30th is Brooke Vivian Carrick's birthday in my little world). But my real life world interfered, so it's coming, but a little later. lol Participating in @choicesaugustchallenge Day 7 (Sunshine) and Day 11 Barbeque.

Series Masterlist Tobias x Casey Masterlist Full Masterlist

“We’ve got to tell her,” Casey insisted. Her second pregnancy was not at all like her first. The first time, she couldn't wait for her 'bump' to show, and it seemed to take forever. This time, she swore it appeared just after the two little lines formed on the pregnancy test. Her two-year-old daughter, Samantha, had already announced, “Mommy is big now,” to everyone they knew.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Tobias agreed. “I think my Mom has been trying to hold back her excitement a little since Sammy doesn’t know yet."

Casey’s eyes went wide. “Wait a second. You think that your Mom... your over the top Mom... your I’m sending an interior decorator over to design the new nursery, even though you just ended your first trimester, and the party planner wants to talk to you about the baby’s first birthday party Mom... has been holding back?  If that’s the case, we may want to reconsider telling Sammy... ever."

“Come on,” Tobias smiled. “You know she’s only going to get worse regardless. Let’s let Sammy in on the news. Then we have six months to help her prepare for her little sister coming home.”

“Sister or brother,” Casey reminded.

But Tobias just shrugged. “Yeah, whatever." He had no doubt they were having another little girl.

It was a quiet afternoon at home, sunshine pouring in their living room window when they decided to share the news with Samantha. All of Sammy’s favorite stuffed toys were arranged on the living room floor, and the toddler’s curls bounced as she played and danced with them. Her contagious giggle echoed throughout the house when Daddy made her teddy bear break dance.

Casey’s heart warmed at the sight of them. Their lives had changed drastically over the past few years, but they wouldn’t have had it any other way. She looked at Tobias, and he nodded. It was time.

"Sammy," she said gently. "Mommy and Daddy have something exciting to tell you."

Sammy looked up with wide eyes, her little hands clutching her teddy bear. "What, Mommy?"

Tobias reached out and took the little one’s hand. "You're going to be a big sister, sweetheart.”

“Yep,” Casey smiled, cuddling close to Tobias. “Mommy’s growing a new baby in her belly.”

Sammy blinked, her expression pensive as she took in the news. She looked between her parents, then pointed to Casey’s belly. “In there?” she asked.

“Yep. That’s why Mommy's getting bigger,” Casey smiled. “It’s the baby growing in me.”

“Oh,” Sammy said, turning back to her teddy bear. "That's nice.”

Tobias and Casey shot each other an amused look. Sammy was more excited than this when they told her they were ordering pizza.  

“Sammy,” Casey chuckled softly. "Do you know what this means, sweetie?"

Sammy looked up again, her big brown eyes curious. "More toys?"

Tobias laughed, pulling her into his lap. "It means you'll have a little sister to play with all the time."

Casey playfully elbowed Tobias. “A brother or a sister!” She corrected. “We don’t know yet.”

Casey held back a laugh as Tobias once again muttered, “Whatever,” under his breath.

"Does Pietro know?" Sammy asked.

Tobias pulled the precocious child onto his lap and smiled. "We'll tell him as soon as he's done with his nap," he said.

"Okay. We play now, Daddy?”

Casey leaned in to kiss Tobias on the cheek, both amused with their daughter’s nonchalant reaction.

"Of course we can, sweetheart," Tobias replied. “And what do you think about ordering pizza to celebrate?”

“PIZZA!” Sammy screeched, jumping to her feet. Her little body began dancing to music no one else could hear. “Yes! Yes! Pizza! Daddy, we order pizza now!"

“Right now," Casey laughed, pulling out her phone to order. As she waited for them to answer, she turned to Tobias with a smile. "Well, now we know what to do when we bring the baby home."

“What's that? Order pizza,” he smiled.

“Nope, dress her up as a slice of pepperoni.” Casey grinned.

Tobias's eyes crinkled as his grin widened; all the joy he was feeling sparkled in his eyes. “You said her,” he whispered with a satisfied grin.

Casey placed a hand on her little bump, “Well, see," she chuckled. "But for now, let’s order the pizza!”

Telling their friends:

The following Saturday found Tobias in his happy place, telling stories and holding court as he worked the grill in their cozy Boston backyard. Tobias and Casey’s barbeques had become a staple in their friends’ lives, but they hadn’t hosted many in the past couple of months, making this one feel even more special.  

Casey sat at the table with her friends, Jackie, Sienna, and Aurora, pouring each of them a glass of delicious virgin Sangria, but Jackie appeared to take offense.

“Virgin? In this house?” she teased.

Tobias glanced at Casey over his shoulder with a grin. “I told you," he winked at his wife. "Jackie! There's wine in the cellar; feel free to spice it up."

With a playful huff, Jackie fetched a bottle of Pinot Noir and liberally topped off everyone’s glasses. When she reached Casey, however, Casey placed a hand over her glass.

“I’m good,” Casey smiled as her friends exchanged curious glances.

Tobias turned the last steak over, pleased with how perfectly they were coming along. He loved having the grill to himself today. The mere mention of Ethan's goddaughter, Sammy, bonding more with her uncles Jordan and Bryce had Ethan scurrying over to join the trio on a blanket on the lawn. It was a rare victory for Tobias in their ongoing rivalry over who was the true king of the grill.

After the food had been served and everyone’s bellies were full. Bryce mentioned something about dessert, which was met with groans and a napkin tossed his way.

“I think we should let the food settle before we move on to that,” Casey smiled. “I need to make some room to properly enjoy Sienna’s brownies.”

Tobias caught Casey’s eye, and they shared a conspiratorial smile. Taking her hand, he cleared his throat to capture their friend's attention. “Casey and I actually have a way to pass the time. We have an announcement to make."

“I’m pregnant,” Casey beamed. “We’re having another baby.”

Jackie smirked, recalling a conversation from a few months back. “Well, it didn’t take you long, did it, Carrick?”

Tobias turned to her with a grin. “Was there ever any doubt?”

As the guys shook Tobias’s hand and bro-hugs were had, Casey could barely peel Sienna off of her while Aurora rolled her eyes and shooed Sienna away to give everyone a turn.

“So, baby number two,” Aurora giggled. “Looks like you’re well on your way.”

“On my way?” Casey asked, laughing. “On my way to what?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t remember,” Aurora said with a grin. “That day when we first met Tobias at the deli. You don’t remember what you said on the walk home?”

Casey blushed, hiding her face as Tobias jumped in. “Oh, she remembers.”

“Do we really have to revisit that?” Casey pleaded.

“Sure do!” Aurora grinned, turning to face the others. “If you think trying to save a man from dying was enough to keep these two from falling into lust at first sight, you’d be wrong! They were all but salivating over each other. It was just so... them! Then, on the walk home, Casey's going on and on about how hot he was and how she was going to have his first six children - or something like that."

“Casey!” Sienna chuckled.

“What?” Casey blushed. “He’s hot. But to make things worse, I said that just as Mr. Big Ego over here rolled up in his Jaguar. I prayed he didn’t hear, but on one of our first dates, I told him I always wondered if he had…”

“And I was all too happy to let her know I did,” Tobias finished, chuckling. “I just wasn’t sure who the lucky bastard was. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that I was more than pleased to know it was me.”

Ethan groaned, dragging a hand over his face as everyone laughed. “A classic Carrick beginning.”

“So, apparently, Casey was prophetic,” Jordan laughed.

“Not quite,” she corrected. “Because, as Aurora said on that day, there’s no way I’m having anyone’s six kids. Two will be just fine."

“Honey,” Tobias whined playfully. “Come on, you know I always said we should make our own softball team.”

“Keep dreaming, babe.”

“Yeah,” Jordan winked. “Practice makes perfect, big bro, but maybe stick to the practice part.”

“Please, I think he knows that," Jackie teased. "If not, the world would have already been overrun with little Carrick spawns before Casey even came along."

“Yeah, and then these two would be adding dozens more,” Sienna chuckled.

“Guys!” Ethan said, exasperated. “They just announced they’re having a baby. Do we really have to go there?”

“What’s wrong, Ramsey?” Bryce laughed. “Does the world-renowned doctor need a refresher on where babies come from?”

Ethan pulled a twenty-dollar bill out from his pocket and threw it on the table with a sigh.

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?”

“Baby Carrick #2’s therapy fund. I’ve already put a decent amount in Sammy’s account, but with you two as parents, this little one is going to need it, too.”

The yard was filled with the hum of friends laughing in agreement, reaching for their wallets and purses to add to the growing pile.

“You guys are too much,” Casey laughed. “Our little ones are very lucky to have us as parents – and all of you as their family, too.”

“You got that right,” Bryce said, giving Casey a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. “Everyone, raise your glasses! To Tobias and Casey - congratulations on your first planned pregnancy. We wish you all the best.”

“Bryce!” Casey laughed, giving him a playful shove.

As night fell and the fairy lights flickered on, casting a warm glow over their little urban oasis, the backyard buzzed with well wishes and joy. Sammy had dozed off in her playpen, with her protective cat Pietro by her side. For now, the little one had no idea what all the excitement was about, but for everyone else, it was the perfect end to a perfect day.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[peachhcs]

Luke is definitely upset for Sammy, especially after what went down in the gling to worlds fic

He knows she was so excited to spend time with Will

even though we saw some of luke’s reaction already, here’s a small blurb of him calling will about it:

the phone rang four times before will finally picked up. luke paced around his room with anger written all over his face because even though samy and him mom said not to be mean, luke was gonna be mean.

“dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” luke spat out without even a hello or a how are you, similarly to how ryan greeted will the other night on the phone.

the blonde flinched, “you’re gonna be on my back too?”

“what the fuck do you mean i’m gonna be on your back?! of course i am! you spend an entire month with my sister in prague and then you go and break up with her as soon as we get home? what the fuck?” luke wasn’t having any of it. he’s known this kid for his entire life so the older boy was very confused on what got into him.

will flinched again at luke’s harsh tone, but he knew he deserved it. “i’m sorry,” was all the boy could manage.

“jesus christ, sorry? that’s it? did something happen between you two or what? i’ve never seen my sister this sad about something before and that’s saying a lot,” luke continued, his tone cooling off just the slightest.

“no nothing happened. i just..i don’t know man,” will frowned at the idea of samy being upset because of him.

“i’m giving you thirty seconds to come up with a better excuse than whatever you just said to me,” luke grew a bit impatient. when will didn’t say anything more, the brunette scoffed in annoyance. “look, i’ve known you your whole life. i won’t pry into things, but i never ever thought you and my sister would break up or stop being friends for that matter. you don’t have to tell me, but i’m worried for my sister and you,” the older boy’s tone softened out even more.

a sigh escaped will’s lips, “there’s just a lot going on, i guess. i can’t be the great boyfriend she wants me to be when we’re across the country from each other. she doesn’t deserve that from me. she deserves someone who’s there for her all the time. i can’t do that from california. i just..it’s for the best.”

“so said she cared about that? she doesn’t care about any of that, will. you’re all that has mattered to her. the distance..fuck that. she knows you have obligations to your sport. i don’t think she would’ve started dating you if she knew that,” luke tried.

“that’s the problem, though. i know her to know that the distance bothers her sometimes too but she’d never say any of that to me. i just thought doing it now would save us from something worse later on,” will tried explaining his reasoning.

“i think the worse has already happened, will. your logic is like highkey shit. she was so excited to be in worlds with you and support you and then you just turn around and do this shit?” the brunette shook his head in disappointment even though will couldn’t see.

“look, i already feel worse, okay? but no one’s changing my mind about any of this. she deserves better,” will stood firm on his decision.

"you're actually the stupidest person i've ever met. i'll talk to you later, man," luke didn't have anything else to say, so he ended the call.

a frustrated sigh left the boy's lips knowing will and samy were definitely not getting back together anytime soon.

[aiodenhunt]

Isle dreamer.

Where the Hook siblings assume CJ died. Set during wicked world, before D2

! TW!

-Character death (Let's pretend CJ is dead and not in Auradon for the sadsies)

-Depictions of grief.

——————————

Harriet went to sleep without thinking a lot about CJ being out for the night. Her sister was that way, she would never come back home in the estimated time. CJ would always come back one hour after her curfew, just to mess around with them.

Plus, she was with Freddie. If someone could put some reason into Calista’s head that was definitely Freddie.

So there was apparently nothing to worry about.

She stopped worrying about CJ coming home to sleep when the latter was around 11, ever since then CJ would sleep ‘Wherever the night caught her’ and take turns sleeping in the Jolly Roger, The lost revenge, Freddie’s house or Harriet’s ship; The crimson zephyr. She had that bad habit.

Her sister was just that careless.

And Harriet had given up with her a long time ago. Once she found CJ eating breakfast in her ship’s kitchen, which would’ve been normal if her sister had slept in her ship the previous night.

Harriet honestly didn’t care about that. She had learned to leave one window open and extra food just for CJ. It was better if her sister slept there than on the streets like the other children on the Isle.

Uma also didn’t mind CJ’s random presence on her ship, the pirate had just adopted her as ‘Harry’s annoying little sister that crashes here without warning’ and rolled along with it.

Captain Hook? He was sometimes delighted to see his daughter come back to her home and spend the night there, sometimes he would make it clear he didn’t want her there.

So, yeah. CJ spending the night out while she had explicitly told Harriet she would sleep in her ship wasn’t that much of a big deal. Maybe the Faciliers made something CJ likes for dinner and so she decided to spend the night there.

Oh well, she would just scold her little sister when she got home and that’s it.

Cj will be fine. She can fetch for herself.

So the following night, Harriet Hook woke up without too many worries inside of her head, half of those worries weren’t really related to her sister. They were mostly about her crew or the fact that they lived on a jail-island, nothing too bad or out of the ordinary.

She walked out of her cabin, heading to the kitchen. Greeting some of her crewmates in the process.

Claudine Frollo was already up, making breakfast for her crew. She was probably the only member of the crew who got up at the unholy hour that 5am was.“Good morning, Captain.” She said, serving some crepes for Harriet.

“ ‘Morning, have you seen Calista around the ship?” The captain asked, sitting down to eat what had been just served to her.

Claudine shook her head no.

“Are you sure?” Harriet insisted.

“If she had slept inside of the ship, I would’ve heard her entering it. You know I have quite the sensitive ear.”

“Hm.True.” Harriet hummed, taking some last bites out of her breakfast. “She must’ve spent the night with Harry or Freddie. She’ll probably be back in a day or two.”

“May the lord be with her.” Claudine made the cross gesture.

Harriet just let out a sigh. “Yeah let the religious stuff from your dad for an actually dangerous situation, We’ve got raids to do.”

And so, the next two days passed by normally for Harriet Hook.

Her rutinary raids, antics, some robbery and someone being stabbed, whatever was normal for her.

But, during those days. CJ was nowhere to be seen. At least inside of her ship.

She woke up with a little of a hangover from drinking last night, walking to the kitchen with one of her hands holding an ice pack on her head to calm down the migraine.

Harriet barely opened her mouth, and Claudine already had an answer for her question. “CJ still isn’t here. And no, Sammy hasn’t seen her either.”

The captain sighed. “Don’t serve me any breakfast, give it to Sammy or whoever needs it. I’m going to the Lost revenge to drag that brat back home.”

Harriet could hear a small giggle before leaving. “Good luck with that rascal.”

The way to the Lost revenge wasn’t too far from her. The isle was quite small, so it was just around two blocks away from her own ship. The port was way too small.

She knocked three times on the wooden of the ship, some of Uma’s pirates looking at her with fear, and some others with respect.

Uma looked at her from the deck, looking like she wanted to cuss her out of there at first; but once she realized it was Harriet she only sighed. “Ah, it 's you.”

“Harry! Your sister’s here!” The fellow captain screamed so loud it could probably be heard on all of the ship.

“The crazy one or the normal one?”

“The normal one!”

And so, Harry could soon be heard walking towards the deck, then he jumped out of the ship. “What up?”

“Has CJ been sleeping here for the last three days?” Harriet asked, straightforward.

Her brother bit his lip, frowning. “I was actually going to ask you if she had been sleeping in the Crimson zephyr. Haven’t seen that polliwog around in a while.”

Harriet took a deep breath. “So she hasn’t!”

Harry shook his head no. “Might be at dad’s.”

The captain shrugged, wanting to not look lowkey frustrated. “Wanna search for her with me? Maybe Hook’s got her hostage thinking she’s Peter pan or something. She never stays with him for that long.”

“Oh I had forgotten she’s that guy’s age already.” Harry mumbled. “Count me in. Uma ain’t doing anything interesting today.”

And so, The oldest sibling nodded, walking across the port along with her brother.

The Jolly roger being so close to the Lost revenge it was almost comical it took them around three minutes to get there

Once they were close enough, Harry yelled. “Oh Dad! Would you mind talking to your children?”

Hook looked down at them, making some gestures with his fake hand. “I do it every once in a while. What do you want now?”

“Have you seen Calista? Or, a child resembling Peter Pan lately?” Harriet asked, her arms crossed.

Their father frowned at the mention of that boy. “My little girl? Nope, and I wish I don’t see that hellish boy or anyone who resembles him again.”

Harriet sighed, turning around and walking away from the port (Dragging Harry along with her), refusing to listen to Hook any longer. “I believe him. If he had lost his mind he wouldn’t make it clear that Cj’s his favorite child.”

Harry decided to not argue any longer. Walking to wherever Harriet was going to.

Which seemed to be… The arcade the Facilier’s run?

How odd.

Harriet entered almost kicking the door open, her presence being ominous enough to startle most people inside of the arcade. She looked straight into Dr.Facilier’s eyes as soon as she spotted him.

“Has CJ slept here the last three days, Shadowman?”

“Easy there, Hook. I could ask you the exact same question about Freddie.” The older man answered, something in his voice made the phrase look like a threat. “Unlike your little sister she has some manners. She never sleeps outside of her home, much less uninvited. Where is my daughter?”

Harry almost walks up to Facilier, hook in hand. Yet Harriet stopped him.

“Where is my sister? They should be together. I’m not looking for a fight.” The pirate dropped her sword, and made her brother drop his hook. (Although he rolled his eyes when she did.) “Kidnapping your daughter would only make CJ hate me.”

The shadowman seemed a little more relaxed, less menacing. Yet he still looked stressed. “I’m serious. I don’t know where both of them are. Celia has been worried, so am I. We figured maybe CJ was keeping her hidden, or rather hiding with her.”

Harriet growled in frustration, picking up her sword and passing the hook to her brother.

“Whatever. Those two must be hiding anywhere waiting for us to lose our minds searching for them. I’ll tell you when I find them, so you can also ground Freddie for life for letting CJ do that.”

Facilier nodded, with a heavy sigh. Then the siblings left the arcade.

Harriet kicked a stone in frustration.

Harry didn’t know quite what to do. Looking worried was not a choice, though. “Maybe she is okay. Just playing hide and seek anywhere, just to toy around with us.”

Harriet bit one of her nails, not wanting to seem worried either. She could not show weakness in public. “Tell Uma and her crew to look out for her literally everywhere. My crew will do the same. No stone must remain unturned.”

Harry let out a laugh. ��That polliwog will be so grounded when you get her.”

“She will not see the sunlight until she turns eighteen.”

And so, the day passed by.

All the raids planified for that day came to a halt. For both Uma and Harriet’s crew. The pirates looked for every street inside in the isle, every alley. Every business that could be a possible hideout.

Harriet’s crew even had to swallow down whatever fear they had left and enter Maleficent’s now abandoned castle. Still, no trace of CJ nearby. It seemed like her most probable hideout but there wasn’t a single trail of her or Freddie in there.

The search went on for two weeks.

Uma’s had looked inside of the Hell hall but even there, there was not a single trace of the missing girls.

Every alley had been temporarily invaded by the pirates in search for the girl, and no one was there.

Harriet had screamed her sister’s name time and again, and nobody answered.

During the second week, they had stopped searching and began raiding more often, in case somebody had the guts to hold hostage the youngest Hook child.

The hopes of Cj’s older siblings were high when the raids began, and they had in fact found some of the missing children of the isle who would then be sent back to their parent’s arms.

Nonetheless there was not a single trace of CJ or Freddie in any of those raids. When interrogating people, they claimed that they knew that kidnapping CJ Hook was technically suicide.

So, during the third week of Cj’s disappearance, Harriet and Harry stopped looking for someone living.

Harriet shivered, her voice trembled a little when she asked what might be the hardest question she had ever asked. “I need Uma to ask Ursula if she has seen any remains of CJ in the depths of the sea.”

CJ never learned how to swim unlike her siblings. Maybe she stepped on rotten wood whilst walking on the port and drowned.

Or maybe someone had killed her and dropped her remains into the sea.

They knew the villains were immortal, as she herself accidentally killed her father once. (In self defense.) But they also knew that VK’s could die. Everyone who wasn’t deemed as a dangerous villain was not immortal. How charming. Thank you, King Beast.

Whatever, Harriet needed a coat, her sister’s headband, anything. She needed to know what happened to her baby sister.

Neither of the siblings had the strength to tell their father that they thought CJ was dead. They just knew that he was probably drinking himself blind thanks to her daughter’s disappearance.

Harriet also wanted to do that.

Yet she needed to be sober to keep on looking.

She was angry at first.

Angry at the world who set this godforsaken barrier on them. Angry at herself for not looking out for her sister earlier. Angry at her father, for neglecting them in that way.

She screamed, smashed a couple bottles against the floor and punched a wall, yet the people in her crew knew it was best to let Harriet be.

Sammy told them that it was her captain’s way to go through grief.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed more maniacal than never. Whenever they attacked he laughed more than usual, he was more prone to burst out laughing after any inconvenience happened to him. He lashed out when someone mentioned CJ, too.

Uma was there to hold Harry whenever he broke down. She was there to at least tell him that his sister was probably in a better place now. There was someone to be Harry’s support.

Harriet did have Ginny to hold her down while she lashed out, and unlike Harry and Uma, she was not enough to calm her down completely.

Of course she appreciated her partner, but no romantical love could fill the hole her sister left in her heart.

Harriet had raised that girl. She saw her grow up, she taught her how to read and how to count, she taught her how to defend herself.

Had she done something wrong? Had she forgotten to look somewhere else?

Oh.

She did.

The underworld.

All the dead went there, and the god of the underworld was there, on the Isle. Maybe she could give her an answer.

Nonetheless when Harriet sat down to speak with Hades, all she got was disappointment.

Hades was no longer the ruler of the underworld during his imprisonment, the ones ruling it were Persephone and Nyx. Some other goddesses, or demi-gods. Harriet didn’t gave a single fuck about whatever divine status they had.

Persephone was the only one who could tell her if her sister was dead or not.

And Persephone could only come to the island during the winter. It is currently the beginning of autumn.

Great.

So she had to wait months to know if her sister was alive or not.

Harriet did her best to not break down when she reunited with Harry a couple of days later.

They picked up a couple of the few flowers that could be found across the isle, and some shiny stuff CJ would have wanted.

Since cameras weren’t a thing on the isle and they didn’t have a picture of the deceased girls, Harriet painted a small portrait of CJ and Freddie, although it wasn’t her main hobby or a sustainable one on the isle, she was quite good at it.

They made a makeshift altar on the Crimson zephyr, inside of the cabin where their little sister used to sleep in.

Neither Harriet nor Harry cried during Claudine’s memorial speech, all her time with Frollo had prepared her to host funerals; at last. Celia did cry for Freddie.

Claudine lit up a small candle on the altar for the two souls.

Harry didn’t have the strength to speak during the makeshift funeral.

Neither did Harriet, but she spoke anyway.

She swallowed down a tear while standing in front of the portrait of her little sister. “Calista was not a saint. Hell, she stole from us more times than I can count on my two hands.”

“Yet she never had ill intentions. I dare to say my sister was the closest we will have to someone being genuinely kind on this Godforsaken isle. I hope she is happy and in peace along with her best friend, away from this living hell. I hope that this is a reminder of the cruelty of King Beast. And I hope one day we will be able to break this down, so no more innocents will die with misery and pain being all of what they knew during their short lives. Calista Jane Hook, I hope you forgive your siblings for not being able to save you.”

Maybe she teared up while speaking, yet no one pointed it out.

Harriet doesn’t remember anything else that happened during that funeral. She zoned out, just thinking.

Thinking about how CJ used to tell Harriet about her dreams of navigating and seeing the world beyond the barrier she was born into.

She thought about how that little dreamer never got to see anything more than misery, and thinking about how they don’t even have a body to mourn her properly.

Did she suffer?

Did she go in peace? Did she thought about them while leaving?

What a waste…

Ginny had to drag Harriet to bed that night. She drank until she passed out, mumbling something about not being able to save her.

Maybe one day, the memory of the youngest Hook child will stop being painful.

It won’t be today.

[norahastuff]

There’s a lot to like about The Winchesters, but I think one of the reasons it hits so hard for me is that it solves my biggest problem with the finale. Personally, I don’t have a problem with tragic endings. The season 5 finale of Spn has a tragic ending, and I think it’s a wonderful feat of storytelling. Aside from the fact that 15x20 tried to pretend it wasn’t tragic and tried to make it seem like Sam and Dean standing alone on a bridge in Heaven was a happy ending, what I hated most about the finale was they had to flatten Dean into a two-dimensional caricature of himself to do it. Aside from maybe the revelation that Dean stood outside Sam’s apartment at Stanford for hours trying to psych himself up to go in because he was nervous Sam would turn him away, there was no moment in the episode that Dean felt like the complex, nuanced character we had come to know and love over the past 15 seasons. He had no desires or characterisation beyond pie, car and Sammy. There was no sign of all the growth we’ve seen from him, no hint of his own needs, wants or sense of self. I mean, he wasn’t even allowed to interact with his own heaven before Sam showed up. Even after his death, he was never allowed to have anything that was just his. 

Look, I’ve said all this a hundred times before – if you look at my 15x20 tag, it’s basically just this sentiment repeated over and over again – so why am I saying it again now? Well, because The Winchesters is fixing that. The mission Dean is on is all his. It’s not about Sam, or pie or whatever surface level bullshit that finale tried to boil Dean down to. He’s going back to the past, he’s meddling in something insane because he sees value in it, and in the process going on a journey to understand himself better. His narration makes it pretty clear that through this quest he’s learning to contextualise his own life and feelings better. The past presents the future, after all (full disclosure, that’s an Ugly Betty episode title that I just really loved and use far too often in casual conversation), and one of the biggest hang ups in Dean’s life was that he was given this mythologised version of events and expected to believe them. Mary was this perfect saintly mother who sat at home baking cookies all day before she was brutally, and through no fault of her own, ripped away from them. John was the perfect mild-mannered husband and father who only slid into anger and obsession after he lost his perfect wife. 

Eventually Dean realises that none of that is true. Mary couldn’t cook. She was a hunter. She was involved in the circumstances that brought about her own death. She was a complicated person, and in the end he got the chance to see that knowing the real her, flaws and all, was infinitely superior to believing the white-washed fairytale about the perfect martyr that John created after she died. There’s also the fact that John was never the perfect husband or father, even before Mary’s death. We get maybe one reference to that in Spn, how in Dean’s heaven in season 5 he remembers John and Mary fighting and John moving out for a few days, but not much else. The focus is very much on how John turned into a neglectful parent and an angry man after Mary’s death. But The Winchesters is working hard to dispel that lie. John always had this anger in him. Mary even calls him out multiple times on how he’s using her and their relationship as an excuse to avoid his issues. She straight up uses those words. There are also references to how raising your kids to be soldiers and being their drill sergeant rather than their parent is one of the worst things a parent can do to their child. 

Anyway, as interesting as it is to see all these things addressed in the Spn universe, what’s so damn satisfying is seeing Dean realise it. Dean’s on a mission to learn more about his past. To understand that our parents and where we come from shapes and moulds the people we become, but it doesn’t have to define us forever if we don’t let it. By accepting his past and finding out the truth about who his parents truly were, he can accept himself and move forward, free of whatever baggage that had been dragging him down for so much of his life.

And the greatest part about all of this, is that Dean’s the one driving this story. It’s not God, or his father or even his duty to take care of Sam which dictated so much of his life and his choices before. This is about Dean’s choices and who he is as a person and what he wants. It’s funny because as little as we saw John Winchester in season 1 of Spn, he was very much the spectre hanging over the story, and the search to find him is what drove much of the plot throughout the season. Much of what his sons were doing was in reaction to him. And now in The Winchesters, Dean himself is the spectre that’s been hanging over the season. He’s the one making the big moves and steering the action. He’s the one everyone, friend and foe alike, is looking for. He’s the one who gave John the note and put this whole thing into motion. After the ending of Spn took away so much of his agency and everything that makes Dean Dean, he’s finally getting it back and then some.

I’m excited to see how the season’s going to end, but I’ll forever be happy that this show gave us Dean being his own person again. He’s the one picking the music this time.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Young!Samuel Seo with Young!Reader: Doctors and Patients

G/N. Your family owning a convenience store AU: Leave Him Be | Dinner Guest. Next - baby

Samuel's eyes hardened when you said you wanted to play Doctor and Patient.

One hand subconsciously covering the fresh bruise on his cheek, courtesy of not tiptoeing quietly enough around his mother that morning, and instinctively ready to shield himself and snap at you-

But then you offered to be the patient first.

Wrapping your cheap plastic stethoscope around his neck and handing over the rest of your doctor's activity set, you sit yourself down on a plastic chair and point to the scab on your knee.

"You need to hit that with the hammer."

Samuel raises his eyebrows, mouth forming a small 'o' at the sudden change of events.

"Hammer, Sammy" you say, with a put-upon sigh you have learnt from your mother.

You signal to the small reflex hammer, nestled amongst the other tools in the toy medical case and instruct Samuel to tap it against your knee.

"Why?" He eyes the instrument suspiciously.

"I dunno." A shrug. "You just always see it on TV."

Samuel's ears burn red and no, he hasn't seen it on TV. He isn't allowed to watch TV at home and is too busy playing and talking with you when he's here.

"Ok," he mumbles. He taps your knee with it, featherlight, and you kick out your foot. "What was that for?"

"To check I have knees," you try and Samuel doesn't look convinced, but lets it go anyway. "Do I need any medicine?"

Now it's Samuel turn to shrug and you roll your eyes at him, a gesture this time learnt from your father.

"You're terrible at this!" Samuel bristles at your complaint, "It's my turn!" You snatch back the stethoscope, the bag and the hammer, and shove him on the seat.

At least you attempt to. Except Samuel, for all his small stature, does not even budge. He stays standing, frowning at you.

"Sammy, come on," you whine and he sits down with a huff. Back ramrod straight, looking like he has half a mind to bolt. Uneasiness radiating off him in waves. "I'll be gentle," you promise and then put on your best imitation of an authoritative doctor. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because Y/N made me."

You narrow your eyes at this wet blanket before deciding no. You're not letting him ruin this game and you tell him he's here for a check up.

You press the end of his stethoscope on his chest and he flinches, slightly, before straightening up again.

"Good," you comment after a beat. 

You're not entirely sure what happens next with a check up but you go ahead with touching his forehead with the back of your hand. Pretend to flash a light into his eyes, inspecting his left then the right as they grow wider in alarm at your proximity. Ask him to open his mouth and say 'ahh' and giggle when you proceed to peer in. Lastly you use the reflex hammer, and lightly tap him on both knees. 

Samuel doesn't do anything. His legs don't twitch at all.

"You have no knees," is your diagnosis.

Samuel immediately smirks and tells you "You're a terrible doctor."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yeah you are," he snorts, "You're awful."

"Am not!"

"Ok, you're a good doctor," he says and you know that his tone means his words are a complete lie.

"I'll show you," you storm off towards the medicine cabinet in the backroom and return a few minutes later with a bottle of ointment and a small clean face cloth.

You tip the bottle upside down, lightly soaking a corner and move close to Samuel's face.

"What are you doing?" He recoils, hand shooting out to stop you. Long, thin fingers curling around your wrist.

"Being your doctor," You try to shake him off, "I said I'll be gentle, didn't I?"

Samuel supposes you did and... maybe. Maybe this will be fine, whatever you're doing. You won't hurt him and you will be gentle.

He gives you a nod, would have been imperceptible if you weren't watching him so closely, and lets go.

When your parents tend to your clumsy bruises, your parents like to apply pressure; telling you that it’s to break up the blood beneath the skin even as you yelp but you don't want to do that to Samuel. You know it hurts, and you don't want to hurt him.

With careful hands, you dab at the bruise on his cheek. Trying to be gentle and light but Samuel lets out a small wince and you stop.

“Sorry!”

"No, it's ok," He says in a small voice.

"Are you ok?"

Samuel blinks. When was the last time someone even asked if he was ok?

No, he wants to say, nothing with him is ok. He doesn't say anything. Bites his tongue instead. Gives you a small nod, avoiding your eyes and you continue, a bit more hesitantly this time. None of your false doctor bravado and even more gentle than before.

"You're not a bad doctor," Samuel tells you when you're done and pulling a face at the scent of ointment in his nostrils.

Your face transforms and you give him a toothy grin.

No, he is not ok. But when he's with you in these aisles under the bright fluorescent light - it's the most ok, the happiest he has even been.

[joshym]

Why Don’t You Make Me?

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: you learn what being sassy with Sam leads to

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: (18+ MINORS DNI) unprotected sex, angst, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pussy slapping(sorry lol), a bit of a praise kink, some degradation, rough sex, sam is an asshole(hehe), ends with some good fluff

a/n: i’m not even sure how to explain this one, lol. essentially, i watched an interview forever ago where he talks about not liking one of my favorite bands, thus, sparking this. i haven’t been able to let go of it since. we all know sammy is a bit picky when it comes to music...

with that being said, enjoy. 🤍

It’s nothing out of the ordinary for you and Sammy to have pointless, petty arguments that usually pertain to nothing of any importance. You both are too stubborn for your own good, and neither one of you are too keen on admitting any sort of wrongdoing. 

Sammy loves to insert his opinion on absolutely everything. Even when his opinion wasn’t requested. He relishes any opportunity to share his opposing thoughts, even when he knows it’ll inevitably piss you off. 

Something Sammy has very strong opinions on is music. He’s quite pretentious when it comes to his musical preferences. You’re always more than willing to listen to whatever song or artists he’s into at any given moment, eager to give it your full attention when he’s excited to show it to you. You love his music taste and that he’s introduced you to so many incredible pieces.

However, he never gives you the same respect. When you want to show him something you love, he has to overly critique it. Every fucking time. He’s entirely too critical of everything you enjoy and you’re starting to take offense to it. It just pisses you off to no end that he fully believes his music taste is far superior than yours. To avoid getting your feelings hurt, you’ve pretty much stopped showing him anything you love, and you typically only listen to your music when he’s not around so you can enjoy it in peace.

You’d anticipated a day at home to yourself as Sam had a full schedule. You had nothing planned, so you decided to spend the day cleaning the house and listening to a special playlist compiled of your favorite music. 

You’ve been so lost in cleaning that you don’t even realize several hours have gone by. Your playlist is still on full blast, too loud for you to hear Sam coming in through the front door.

You’re startled by your music suddenly coming to a halt, making Sammy laugh at you as you nearly jump out of your skin.

“You know, that’s the most overproduced shit I’ve ever heard. There’s nothing enticing about it, feels like my intelligence is being insulted.”

You have zero patience for this right now. Not only did him scaring you annoy the shit out of you, but now he has the nerve to bring this up again. You’re over it.

“Can you fucking not, Sam?”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“You’re always dragging my music in the dirt and I’m just sick of it. It’s fucking rude. Just let me enjoy it without you being an asshole, please.”

You’re walking past him when he grabs your arm to stop you.

“Don’t try to walk away from me, sweetheart. I’m an asshole, huh?”

He’s looking down at you with a condescending expression that has you immediately turned on. Something about him being angry makes you desperate for him to have his way with you. You have a feeling you know where this is going, so why not take it a little further?

“Yep. You’re a fucking asshole.” you say through gritted teeth. 

He smirks at you, noticing your cheeks becoming flushed and your angry appearance turning into a needy one.

“You better quit running your pretty mouth, y/n, or you’ll seriously regret it.”

“Why don’t you make me?”

That was all he needed. Before you know it, your back is pushed up against the wall with a light grip on your throat. 

“You know you can’t talk to me like that and get away with it, right?”

He’s pressing his hips against your body, showing you just how hard he is already. With one hand, he pulls your shorts down to your feet. His fingertips trace ever so lightly over your clothed clit, just barely giving you that pressure you’re so desperate for.

“What’s the matter, baby? Your pretty cunt already needy for me?”

He grabs the fabric of your panties and pulls them up between your lips, giving you much needed friction against your clit.

“Fuck, Sammy..”

“You like calling me an asshole, huh? Turns you on being a little bitch to me, doesn’t it?”

You’re hardly able to form any coherent thoughts with as much as you're turned on right now. 

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you love being a bitch and calling me names. Tell me.”

His lips meet your neck in small nibbles against the sensitive skin.

“I love it, Sammy. I fucking love pissing you off.”

“Yeah, I know you do. Get down on your knees so I can show you what you should be doing with your mouth instead of running it.”

You quickly comply. He caresses your face with one hand while he’s undoing the button on his jeans with the other. You're practically drooling at the thought of having him tucked away in your mouth.

He pulls his cock out, and he’s unbelievably hard.

“Open, baby. If you can call me an asshole with that mouth, you can take my dick in it, too.”

You open for him and he slowly slides himself inside all the way to the back of your throat before pulling out completely. 

“Remember what to do if it’s too much, right?”

“Tap you three times.”

“Good girl.”

You open for him again and he slides in with much more force this time, hitting the back of your throat much harder. He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses it to hold on to while he fucks himself into your mouth. You keep your eyes on him and watch as his jaw clenches with every thrust. You gag a little around him, making him smirk.

“God you look so pretty like this, honey. You’re doing so good.”

You feel him start to twitch and you realize he’s getting close. He quickly pulls out of your mouth and lifts you up.

“Get your smart ass to the bedroom. Take your clothes off and be ready. I’ll be there in a minute. And don’t you dare touch yourself. You’re not getting off unless it’s from me, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He slaps your ass as you walk towards the room. You strip yourself of your remaining items of clothing as you sit on the bed against the headboard with your legs open, ready for whatever he has planned for you.

He’s taking much longer than you care for. You’re getting restless and you’re so desperate. You decide to risk it and you begin to touch yourself, running small circles over your clit. Right as you’re finally feeling some relief, Sammy walks in the room.

“So not only do you call me names, but you don’t listen to me either?”

He’s holding the speaker you were using earlier. He sets it up on the dresser next to your bed and starts playing your playlist at a low volume.

“Sammy what are you-”

“Gonna fuck you to your little playlist so every time you listen to it, you remember your punishment for being such a fucking brat about it.”

As your music starts playing, he leans over you on the bed to crash into your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy and vigorous, making you that much more turned on.

He moves down to your neck and chest to suck marks into you. He takes your nipple in his mouth and softly bites at it, eliciting a sound out of you that can only be described as pornographic.

He lifts up only to spread your legs as far as they can go. Without warning, he lands a quick and light slap to your already aching pussy. Your hips buck harshly at the contact, causing you to moan even louder.

“That’s what you get for not listening to me when I said not to touch yourself.”

He does it again. 

“And that’s for calling me an asshole.”

You're clenching so hard around absolutely nothing, ready to beg him to be inside of you. 

“Sammy please..please fucking touch me.”

He’s looking at you smugly. He knows exactly what you want, but he’s going to make you work for it. 

“You’re awfully squirmy, baby. Bet you want me so bad, huh?”

“Yes, Sam, please.”

“Call me an asshole again.”

You look up at him, confused and almost sure you heard him wrong.

“Call me an asshole again, y/n. Then I’ll give you what you want.”

You’re starting to catch on to his little game.

“You’re an asshole, Sam. A fucking dick.”

He smiles, then dips down between your legs.

“Look at you, honey. Making such a mess and I’ve barely touched you.”

His tongue meets your swollen clit with small flicks. You’re hardly able to hold yourself still at the sensation, but he keeps you in place with his arm wrapped around your hips.

He sinks two fingers deep inside of you, moving them at a quick speed. You’re already so close that you’re hardly breathing.

You grab ahold of his hair that’s draped across your belly and use it to hold him there. His fingers are moving at a speed that has you whining under him.

“Fuck, Sammy..I’m s-so close, please don’t stop-”

“Come on, baby. Cum nice and pretty so I can put my cock inside of you.”

His words have you instantly meeting your release, belting out a slew of moans almost melodically.

“That’s it, there you go. Fuck- look at you, y/n. You’re so beautiful when you cum for me.”

His fingers have slowed down to work you through your orgasm. You’re nearing overstimulation, but you can’t force yourself to make him stop. His fingers mixed with your release feel so good. 

He pulls out of you and immediately puts his fingers in his mouth, savoring the taste of you.

“Mmm, gonna fuck you now, pretty girl.”

He positions himself between your legs and wastes no time plunging into you. You’re so wet that it takes you no time to adjust to his size.

He holds himself up on his knees, gripping your hips and thrusting into you. He loves to watch himself slide in and out of you, watching as his cock becomes coated and shiny with your slick. The sounds of your wetness fill the room along with your damn music that started this whole thing. He’s picking up his pace to a more brutal one.

“Think I could watch your pretty pussy get fucked all day. So fucking good, baby.”

He keeps up his pace, his face displaying pure ecstasy as his eyes become droopy with pleasure.

He pulls out, leaving you missing him instantly. 

“Turn around. On your knees, face down.”

You quickly do as he says, almost embarrassed by how eager you appear but too fucked out to care.

He teases you a bit before he sticks himself back inside, burying himself in you completely.

It takes no time for him to pick his pace back up as he slams himself into you. One hand is gripping your ass, while the other reaches down under your hips to play with your clit.

“Fu-fuck, Sam, I’m close baby. I’m so fucking close..”

“Cum on my cock, and make it pretty again. Give it to me.”

It’s as if his voice contains some sort of magic, making you cum again at the sound of it mixed with the overwhelming pleasure.

“Oh my god, Sam!”

You’re almost screaming at the feeling, this one even more intense than the first one.

“Fuck, y/n. You’re squeezing me so tight. Gonna fill you up, baby.”

He meets his release shortly after you. The feeling of him filling you up is something you’ll never get tired of. 

He’s out of breath, staying tucked inside of you for a bit while he regains his composure.

He finally pulls himself out, leaving you feeling empty while his cum spills out of you.

You lift your head up to see him looking at your dripping pussy, biting his lip.

“So fucking beautiful, y/n.”

You roll over on your back while he sits on the bed next to you.

“You okay, sweet girl?” he says as he runs his fingers through your disheveled hair. 

“Yeah, that was absolutely amazing.” 

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier. I know I can be a bit ruthless about things like that. I don’t mean to be so harsh.”

“It’s okay, really. Honestly, if it ends in sex like that, I’d be more than happy to argue about it all the fucking time.”

“Yeah? Well, in that case,” he points to the speaker that’s still playing your music. “this song is fucking garbage.” he winks at you as you start to laugh.

“You’re an asshole, Sam.”

He leans down to kiss you.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too.”

Masterlist