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sofreddie · 4 years ago

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Altar

Summary: Being captured on a hunt, Sam is magically spelled to take Y/N. He always wanted it, but not like this.

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, Cas

Warnings: NON-CON, dub-con, Smut, unprotected sex, breeding, pregnancy, sex spell, angst, fluff, little more smut

Word Count: 2,887

"Hey guys, I think I found us a case," Sam said, sitting down at the Library table with his laptop. Dean and Y/N groaned as they straightened in their chairs, waiting for Sam to deliver the briefing, "Might be witches."

"Fuckin' hate witches," Dean grumbled, running a hand down his face and standing abruptly, "Be ready to go in ten," he sighed, heading off to his room. Sam nodded, shutting his laptop and following.

Y/N sighed. They just got back from a hunt, literally a few hours before. She desperately wanted a break after back-to-back hunts across several states, keeping them away from the Bunker for over a month.

Hunting alongside the Winchesters was new to her. She had hunted for years, but more as an as-needed, weekend gig. They had happened upon each other when the Winchesters showed up on her werewolf case a year prior.

The three of them worked well together and the case was solved easily and quickly. Afterwards, with celebratory drinks in hand, the brothers had asked her to hunt with them.

Dean would flirt constantly, but it was harmless. It was clear the two of them were more instant friends than lovers of any kind. Sam - well, Sam was a different story. Everything about him screamed man and had Y/N yearning for him in every way.

But working with the Winchesters, getting a chance at the big leagues, living with them in the Bunker - it was all fantastic and she felt like she was truly making a difference.

But she didn't want to jeopardize that by pursuing anything with Sam. So she buried her feelings and hid them expertly, leaving no one the wiser that she felt anything more than comradery for the brothers.

Little did she know that Sam was head-over-heels for her from the moment he watched her roundhouse-kick a werewolf clear across the room. Y/N was a very 'what-you-see-is-what-you-get' kind of girl and Sam couldn't help but want her the more and more he spent time with her. She was everything he never knew he needed.

But with his past with women, he didn't want to risk it. She was special - precious, even - and he didn't want to taint her. Especially when it was clear she had no interest in him. So he allowed himself to be content with their close friendship and pretended it was enough.

Dean was in full panic mode. One second, the three of them were investigating a lead. Next thing, Sam and Y/N had just disappeared. There was no one around, no trace of them anywhere - and no way to find where they might be or who had them.

He cursed as he climbed in the Impala, pulling out his phone and dialing Cas while simultaneously sending out prayers to his Angel friend. He had to find them. He wouldn't let them die like the others. He had to save them.

Sam woke with a headache. He groaned, placing a hand on his forehead to try and ease the ache as he scrambled to his feet. He was in a dark room, the concrete walls around him slightly damp, the smell of decay filling his nostrils.

Before he could fully get his bearings, his head shot towards the sound of metal scraping as the door to his cell opened. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light before several shadowed figures flanked him.

A woman approached through the doorway, her elegance out of place in the dungeon-like surroundings.

"What do you want?" Sam croaked, his voice hoarse and throat sore from disuse. He remembered being on a case with Dean and Y/N.

Where were they?

The woman smirked, raising a hand towards him and uttering a few words. An eerie glow emitted briefly from her hands. Sam felt his body relax as he stood at his full height. He was aware of his surroundings but unable to control his body.

He watched, like a helpless prisoner, from within his own body as he followed the woman obediently, the flunkies she brought with her pulling up the rear.

"Don't worry, Sam," the woman offered a smile that would be considered charming and friendly if it weren't for the circumstances, "I promise you'll enjoy this part."

Another door opened and Sam followed inside once more. The sight before him nearly made his heart stop.

Y/N was naked, laying on a stone altar, surrounded by people in robes, candles and torches providing a warm glow to the room. He tried to scream, tried to rush to her, but his body wouldn't cooperate.

He couldn't stop the woman from placing a hand on his shoulder and chanting. He couldn't stop himself from removing his clothes and walking to the altar. He couldn’t stop the others as they joined the chant, their eyes on him and Y/N as he stood at the end of the altar looking her over.

Her eyes kept his and he could see they were wild, panicked, but her body dutifully lay still on the altar. Whatever was happening, they were both trapped and aware in their minds, unable to control themselves.

Sam sent a prayer out to anyone who could be listening, hoping someone out there wouldn't mind an IOU from a Winchester.

Sam found himself crawling up onto the altar, his cock suddenly hard and throbbing as he looked down at Y/N beneath him. Her hands were bound above her in iron shackles, stretching her out along the stone surface, her entire body laid bare.

His eyes roamed her appreciatively, his hands following the burning trail of his eyes. He tried to focus, tried to break whatever spell was cast upon him.

But his mind was distracted by the soft warmth of her skin, the needy whimpers that fell from her parted lips, the eager squirming of her body under his touch.

The chanting grew louder, like a Gregorian song, as Sam’s body moved of its own accord. He parted her legs, lifting them to either side of his hips, as he slotted himself between her thighs.

As he rutted his length against her, he could feel her wetness, her heat nearly scorching. A groan slipped past his lips and Sam wasn’t sure if that was the spell or him any longer.

He’d always wanted Y/N - fantasized about her more times than he’d care to admit. Seeing her like this was somehow both a dream come true and a living nightmare - not like this.

As the chanting grew louder, all Sam could see was Y/N. Without warning, he slid his length inside of her in one mighty thrust, the force pushing her up along the altar. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her body down against him as he continued thrusting.

Her wails were a mix of anguish and pleasure and his cock twitched in response. It was over quickly, Sam’s body shuddering violently as he came hard, filling her with his seed until it leaked out around his cock, soiling the stone beneath them.

He was denied even the chance to enjoy the high as his body crawled back off of her, standing at the end of the altar and facing the robed figures in silence once more.

The elegant woman approached Y/N and placed a hand on her lower belly, her eyes fluttering shut as she muttered something under her breath.

“It is done,” she announced, turning to a smaller table by the altar and grabbing a goblet in which she mixed several ingredients, including her own blood. She raised the goblet in the air as she spoke to the congregation,

“To our Lord Chemosh!” she announced, holding the goblet high as she turned back to Y/N, “You will be the mother of a God,” the woman whispered, before starting her chanting once more, the goblet held tightly in her hands as the others in the room joined her chanting.

Sam’s muscles tensed in his whole body as he fought to break through whatever hold they had on him.

A slam of the door on the far end of the room revealed Dean and Cas, weapons at the ready. Their eyes scanned over Y/N and Sam with shock and worry and Sam screamed for his brother in his mind, but his body held still.

As Dean pierced the heart of the elegant woman - the last of the cult around them - Sam’s body fell in a heap to the floor, his world going dark.

Sam groaned as he came to, his head pounding once more. In a flash, his mind flooded with memories - of the cult, of the spell, of Y/N. He gasped, sitting upright and realizing he was in his bed at the Bunker. He sighed, wondering if it was all some bizarre dream.

He forced himself from bed, trying to shake the thoughts of the dream from his mind, and made his way down the hall. He followed the sounds of voices to the Library, finding Dean and Cas pausing awkwardly mid-conversation as he came into their view.

“You’re up,” Dean smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “How you feelin’?”

Sam lowered himself into one of the chairs, still trying to clear his foggy mind, “My head hurts,” he grumbled, brushing his hair back from his face.

“That would be the remnants of the spell,” Cas offered with a sympathetic smile.

“The spell?” Sam’s mind flitted back to his dream and his wide eyes shot to Dean, “I-it was real?”

Dean sighed, dropping his head and nodding, “Yeah. Turns out the coven we were after was actually a cult, trying to resurrect their dead God.”

“Y/N,” Sam breathed out, barely audible to his own ears as his pulse throbbed in his temples.

“She’s fine,” Dean said quickly, “She’s resting in her room.”

“B-but the spell…the altar-”

“She’s fine,” Dean insisted, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“B-but we - I -”

“We stopped the spell before they could conjure Chemosh,” Dean stated, sharing a glance with Cas before turning back to Sam, “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.”

“She…she’s okay though? I mean, what happened…what I did-”

“She’s safe and healthy,” Cas confirmed, “They both are.”

Sam looked up in confusion in time to see Dean flash a threatening glare at Cas who merely shrugged in response, “He deserves to know.”

“She’s….I…” Sam felt the panic rise like bile in the back of his throat, “She’s pregnant?”

Sam watched as his brother and friend nodded their confirmation and his heart shattered. Before all of this, he wanted her. Not just in his bed, but in his life. He wanted a life with her.

But he had convinced himself that being with him would get her killed or worse, so he refused to let either of them cross that line, no matter how much they wanted it.

Now, however, in the wake of a spell - a goddamned spell - all of that came crashing down. She probably wouldn’t be able to look at him without reliving what happened, what he had done to her.

If only I fought harder.

If only I was strong enough to resist the spell.

“You two need to talk,” Dean stated firmly and Sam immediately shook his head, “Sam, listen to me, alright?” he waited until Sam’s red-rimmed eyes met his and Dean could see how hurt and broken he was, “I know you probably want to avoid each other like the plague after what happened. But you need to talk, figure out what you want to do about this.”

Sam shook his head once more - partly to deny Dean’s insistence, and partly because he wasn’t sure he could make a hard decision when it came to…this.

Sam rose from his seat, still shaking his head. Dean tried to reach out to him once more, but Sam backed away, a stray tear streamed down his face, before he rushed back to his room, locking the door behind him.

As soon as he was alone, his back slid down the door and he rested on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest as he sobbed, thinking every hope he had now died.

Three days later, Sam found himself standing in the Bunker hallway, his back braced against the opposite wall from Y/N’s bedroom door. It was late - sometime during the middle of the night - and everyone had gone to bed.

Dean came to him earlier that day, worried over Y/N. Much like him, she had been locked away in her solitude, not eating, barely sleeping. Dean had tried to take care of her, tried to get her to take care of herself, but nothing he did helped.

Sam, too, was ready to brush it aside, if it weren’t from the reminder from Dean that she was pregnant. With his child. Ready for it or not, Sam had a responsibility, to her and their child.

With a heavy breath, he forced himself from the wall, shuffling the few feet across the way to stand directly in front of her door. Before he could talk himself out of it, he raised a hand, knocking several times. Her whispered and broken voice echoed from the other side as she beckoned him inside.

Sam opened the door, slinking in quietly and shutting it behind him. He lifted his gaze, seeing her propped against the headboard of her bed, her knees tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around herself protectively.

“Sam,” she whispered and he could see the shock on her face, “What are you-”

“You’re not eating,” Sam’s voice was gentle and hesitant as he looked at her with worry. She scoffed, turning her head to stare at the opposite wall, avoiding him. Sam licked his lips and took a few hesitant steps closer to the bed, looking down at her, “Y/N,” he pleaded.

“You should go,” she said sternly.

“Y/N,” Sam tried once more, sitting on the edge of her bed and reaching towards her. She shot off the bed in a huff, staring at him from across the room.

“Sam,” she sighed, “Look, I’m not mad at you, okay? I know this wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t my fault. But what happened,” she shook her head, taking another breath.

“I know,” Sam stood, swiping his hair back from his face, “But it did happen, Y/N,” he pressed, approaching her once more, “A-and now…” his eyes flitted to her stomach and his heart ached. Ached for what had happened, and ached to comfort her and have her in his arms.

“What am I supposed to do?” she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, looking defeated and broken and Sam felt his own eyes well with tears.

“We,” Sam said, rushing to stand before her, his hands grazing her elbows as he yearned to just touch her, “We can do whatever you want. But for what it’s worth,” he added with a soft smile as he lifted her chin to meet his gaze, “I want this. Definitely not the way it happened and I can’t change that. But, Y/N,” he licked his lips, noting he now had her undivided attention. It was now or never, “I’ve thought about this, about us, about a life together so much and I know you have too.”

“I thought you would have wanted to forget,” she admitted, her voice weak and body trembling slightly under his touch.

He smiled once more, crowding into her until their chests nearly touched, his gentle grazes on her arms more prominent, “I could never forget,” he insisted as his hands began ghosting over her arms and shoulders with teasing grazes, “How soft and smooth your skin is. The sounds you made. The look in your eyes. How wet and hot-”

“Sam,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering as his fingers trailed up her neck before he cupped her cheek.

“Let me show you,” he breathed out, his breath fanning over her neck teasingly, “How it should have been,” he pulled back to meet her eyes, “How I wanted it to be.”

At her approving nod, Sam was quick to get them both undressed, kissing her passionately the whole time. Once he had her bare and on the bed, he slowed down, taking his time to kiss and taste and tease every inch of her skin from her neck to chest to hips and thighs.

He had her coming on his tongue before he scissored her open, relishing the sounds she made as she came for him once more. Finally, he entered her, slow and smooth until he had no more to give. They both let out long, contended sighs at being connected.

Sam cupped her face in his hands, capturing her lips as he rocked within her, barely leaving her warmth before pushing back in again and again. He slowly worked them to climax, the two of them desperately clinging and grinding as they climbed the high together, finally tumbling off into bliss.

Settling in on their sides under the covers, they wrapped up in each other, kissing lazily as they came down from their highs. The future was scary and uncertain, but they knew they could face it together.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #reader-insert #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #altar

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channiebbang · 4 years ago

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fluttering hearts

synopsis: a cute first date along the night market and the bustling streets of Seoul. A little spark lightens up between laughs, blushing faces and fluttering stomachs.

characters: Mark, Jackson, Main Character

pairing: University Senior!Mark x Univeristy student!MainCharacter

genre: a shit load of fluff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none

author’s note: this is by far one of my most fluff works lmaoo I'm sorry if there are any mistakes hehe

Y/n shivered as the chilly breeze caressed her bare arms. It wasn't a cold evening at all, the light wind felt nice, but she had been standing for some time now, and her sleeveless dress wasn't helping. She refrained from checking the time on her watch, having done that three times already in the last minute.

She thought at how she came to be in this situation. Dressed in a somewhat semi-fancy dress, a couple of steps away from a fancy restaurant.

Mark Tuan. Her university senior of three years. He was all everyone talked about, kind of like the "It boy", if you will. And for good reasons too. He was polite, soft spoken, gentle and a ball of positivity to be around. Everyone loved him. Professors, deans, students, everyone.

Girls drooled over him, boys admired him. He received confessions left and right from girls and the occasional boys. He had it all. Or so it seemed.

See, Mark may have been showered with attention on the outside, and to some extent he was grateful for all the nice words everyone said to him, but he didn't really feel a connection with anyone other than his few close friends.

In fact, the guy was careful who he talked with and what he said. He was a very reserved person and although he was very respectful he also liked being respected. He knew most of the people that tried to befriend him didn't do it because they actually wanted to be friends. It was either because his dad was rich or it was because being Mark Tuan's friend is benefitting. Words he had actually heard someone say. Or people wanted to date him because in the three years he had been in the university nobody had seen him with anyone that could've been labeled as his girlfriend. So the ladies wanted a piece of him. They wished.

So when he, not only showed interest in Y/n but asked her out everyone was stoked. Out of nowhere a junior had been asked out by Mark. Nobody ever saw the two together, nobody ever saw the two even talk. But once someone overheard Jackson asking one of Y/n friends for her number for Mark, the news spread like wildflower. And you bet your ass Mark didn't speak to Jackson for a solid day, no matter how many times Jackson whined that he was just trying to be a good wingman. In the end he gave in because, c'mon, it's Jackson Wang we're talking about, how could he stay mad at him when he was just trying to help out.

But it's not like Mark landed a date the first time he asked, no sir. In fact, y/n had ignored his dm's when he reached out on Instagram, not wanting to get involved with someone so much on the spotlight. She didn't like attention at all, she had two friends and she was happy to go unnoticed at university.

Of course she knew who Mark was and of course she found him breathtaking, I mean it's not like she was blind and lived under a rock. She knew of his more than good reputation but even then she didn't want to be involved with him in any way. She wanted to focus on her studies, thoroughly.

Because she had two great friends, it was obvious that they didn't agree with her decision and tried to persuade her countless times when she told them that Mark had slid into her dm's. She refused.

So a couple of days had passed when the two groups crossed each other in the hallway and of course y/n's lovely friends decided to greet Mark and his friends, lying later that it was just to show their respect to their senior.

Mark on the other hand was very glad because he had taken it upon himself to greet y/n separately, flashing one of his million dollar smile. She stared at him for a couple of seconds before she bowed her head and muttered a greeting.

When she went back to her shared apartment that night she had been doing homework, well tried to do her homework, because a certain Mark Tuan refused to leave her mind. She felt guilty about not replying to him. It had already been a couple of days but she felt bad because she feared she was being rude.

So, before she changed her mind, she took her phone and replied to his text. And that was how she spent more than three weeks texting with him. She had to admit, Mark was fun to talk to. In that short period of time he somehow managed to soften her up.

He had always a funny remark ready, always ready to help her with her studies, even when she refused thoroughly, worried that it would take away time from his own studies.

So there she was, she had finally accepted his request to go eat something. So she was clad in a soft lilac dress waiting for a certain senior to show up.

It was two minutes later when a car stopped on the side of the road, Mark quickly climbed out of the back of the car after muttering some instructions to the driver and walking to y/n.

Now, y/n knew about Mark's good looks, but this. This was straight up rude. He was dressed in a turtle neck and a long coat and he was breathtakingly gorgeous. So obviously, she gaped at him and totally missed his greeting. Mark chuckled, a wide grin spread on his lips as he waved a hand in front of her eyes. She blinked rapidly clearing her throat, blushing hard when he giggled at her flustered face.

"Hi," he greeted again, "Sorry, I'm late. There was an accident on the way and I had to take another street," he apologized, a mortified smile adorning his features. Y/n smiled shaking her head.

"That's okay, I wasn't waiting for long anyway," she assured him, Mark nodded before throwing a glance at the entrance of the restaurant. A slow blush creeped up his neck and tainted his ears a bright red. Y/n tilted her head sideways, concern written all over her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her fingertips lightly brushing over his elbow as he cleared his throat, eyes falling back on her. He found himself staring at her, only then noticing how pretty she looked in her dress and styled hair. He smiled fondly at the white sneakers on her feet, contrasting the rest of her outfit.

"Yup," the tall guy smiled, eyes crinkling, y/n found herself smiling too. She nodded.

"I think I'm way past my reservation time," Mark muttered in embarrassment, fingers scratching behind his ears as he gave y/n an awkward laugh. The blushing explained. Y/n looked at him amused.

"Oh," she mumbled looking back at the entrance of the restaurant before looking back at Mark, a smile on her face.

"How about some street food?" She whispered excited, Mark stared at her, mouth hanging open. Her eyes were sparkling, the widest grin he had ever seen on her graced her lips. She oozed of excitement and adrenaline. Maybe Mark stayed in that position for too long because Y/n's expression slowly fell.

"...or maybe not?" She said unsure, her statement sounding like a question. Was Mark uncomfortable with street food? Her eyes shifted at the high class fancy restaurant and she mentally face palmed. Of course he would be, look at where he wanted to bring you and think about what you offered, ugh.

She felt mortified. She shuffled on her feet, uncomfortable and embarassed to have his eyes on her. She cleared her throat and Mark seemed to come back alive.

"Yes," he breathed out, holy fuck, what was that? He thought. He felt like time had stopped for a couple of seconds too long. Y/n looked at him confused.

"What?" She muttered, eyes wide in confusion. Mark chuckled.

"Let's get street food, I know a market not too far from here. It's a bit crouded but it comes alive at night, let's go," the boy blabbed, before taking a hold of her wrist and starting to walk down the street. Y/n was left dumbfounded, she couldn't grasp onto what just happened.

She stared at Mark, trudging behind him. His long legs taking big strides to where she had to jog a bit to keep up, she didn't complain though. His hand had her wrist in a soft grasp, tight enough not to let her slip away but loose enough not to hurt her.

His dark hair bounced at every step he took, the big smile on his face lighting up his face and his surroundings in a mesmerizing way. Or was that just in her head? She didn't mind though.

Mark, right there, resembled more to an excited child opening up his birthday presents rather than the semi-serious senior she had sometimes seen on campus.

She seemed to come back to her senses when she noticed Mark had been standing on the side of the road, waiting for the streetlight to turn green. One hand in the pocket of his coat while the other still had her wrist in grasp. Mark turned to her and flashed a smile at her, automatically she sent one back.

"We're not too far from it, you'll love it," he assured her, slowly bouncing on his heels, excited.

"Do you go there often?" She asked, just as the light turned green.

"Yupp, usually I'm with Jackson and Yugyeom. Sometimes Jinyoung joins. Oh, and Jaebum too, he's the one who showed us this place," Mark explained, a fond smile on his face when talking about his friends. Y/n smiled up at him.

"You guys seem to be close," she pointed out. Mark sent her a huge grin. The proud look on his face mesmerizing.

"Uhhuh, we've stuck together since middle school," he nodded, "Although, Yugyeom joined us when we were in high school, he's the youngest but we met him in the playground we used to go to play basketball. He was freakishly tall for being so young, we thought he was our age until he started calling us hyung, then we found out he was like 3-4 years younger," Mark laughed, the sound so painfully adorable even y/n found herself chuckling and smiling at him.

"Oh! We're here. Stay close, it's crowded," Mark smiled at her as she nodded. They walked into the market, looking at the various stalls.

Mark, even though on the outside he looked completely fine, was dying on the inside. He had been holding on her wrist for a long time. Was it weird? Did she feel uncomfortable? Was it rude? Is he dumb? What the heck? All these thoughts were running wild in his mind. But nonetheless, he didn't particularly want to let go of her, so he didn't. Don't ask him where that courage boost came from because he didn't know.

He slowly let go of her hand and y/n would be lying if she didn't feel disappointed. What? Well sure, it's not like she wanted to go on a date with him at first but Mark had a way with people and she surely understood now why so many people liked him. Mark Tuan, despite his reputation and all the love he received from people, was a humble gem. He was ordinary, the kind of ordinary that makes you feel comfortable and at ease.

A blush crept up the duo's necks when Mark took a hold of y/n's hand. Mark stopped breathing for a second, testing the waters. Seeing if she'd pull back. But she didn't, and so he engulfed her hand in his. She looked the other way, hoping, wishing, she wasn't blushing too much.

"Hey," Mark whispered, tilting his head down to her height so that she could hear him.

"Huh?" She hummed, turning back around to look at him. Only her movement was a bit too fast, and before he could retreat to his previous height, her face was right in front of his. Her breath hitched in her throat, his features more clear, vivid, at the close proximity.

Mark straightened up, clearing his throat. He cursed under his breath, before taking a deep breath and turning to face her with a cheeky smile on his lips. He raised their clasped hands and shook it a bit.

"Hope you don't mind?" He giggled adorably, the sound making y/n forget about their previous awkwardness. She shook her head.

"I don't," she smiled at him.

The two walked along the stalls of the market, laughing and enjoying their time and food. They stopped at many stalls to try various things. Mark was glad that y/n wasn't one of those stuck up girls that didn't know how to enjoy this kind of places. The loud atmosphere, the tight and crowded street, the warm air, the strong smell of food. He was glad he could share this with someone that like him, didn't mind all those things.

Mark looked at the girl walking one step infront of him. She had tied her hair up with a clip, a couple of loose strands framing her face, her bag was hung across her chest so she had both of her arms free. His coat, too warm for the already hot air, was thrown over her bag. He had told her he could have just carried it on his arm but she insisted that he needed both of his hands to eat.

He looked at her as her eyes scanned over the stalls they walked past. Her eyes were shining with amazement, a wide smile lit up her face. In a way, he was glad he was late and his reservation got cancelled. He had a feeling they wouldn't have had this much fun if they had dined there.

Mark kept his eyes on the girl, it was happening again. As clichè as it sounds it felt as if time slowed down, all the noise around him seemed to fade away, everything sounded as if he was underwater, everything but her blurred out. It was as if he was looking at her through a camera lense and he had focused only on her, everything else just a meaningless background that he didn't particularly care about. All he could see was her.

Her beautiful smile, her shining eyes, the hair strands framing her face, her collarbones, the thin necklace adorning her neck. All he could focus on was her. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, he couldn't understand this feeling at all. But he didn't want it to end, he wanted to drown in this feeling, this emotion, he wanted it to always be like this. If he knew what the feeling of being drugged was, this was it.

If happiness and contentment had come his way, he didn't know, but he hoped. He really hoped this was it. He hoped that feeling of being full of something, feeling warm inside, that everyone talked about, that happiness that people associated with various things, he hoped he had finally found it. And fuck, if that was what happiness and contentment and being at home felt like, god, he wanted to feel like this everyday.

Y/n scolded herself mentally as Mark took her hand in his again. His eyes were focused somewhere else, his action seemed spontaneous and if it wasn't, y/n wouldn't know and she was okay with not knowing. She smiled as she too averted her eyes around herself.

She scolded herself for not answering Mark's dm earlier, she scolded herself for not going on a date earlier but then again, maybe that is exactly why this felt so good. Maybe letting things happen at their own pace was the right thing to do.

So she told herself not to ponder about what was already in the past too much, she told herself to enjoy her time with Mark now and for as long as she could.

She didn't know why and how Mark made her feel so comfortable and how she felt at ease around him. But she did and surprisingly that's all that she found important. She told herself not to overthink what was happening and to just let everything happen on its own.

Their laughter mixing with the loud chatter and laugh of the people around them as they enjoyed their silly banters and jokes. The chilly breeze didn't feel so cold anymore as y/n walked beside Mark, hand in hand, arms pressed against each other, as they talked about what to try next.

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artnerd1123 · 4 years ago

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A Familiar World

Land On Your Feet ——————————————-

Before Journal was “Journal,” he was Theodore: a mischievous kid with a handful of charm and a whole lotta stubbornness. On a normal trip to town, he sees something strange that would change his life. For better or worse, the kid has yet to find out...

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

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ultimately I had planned for there to be a lot more going on here, but the chapter got way too long and i need validation to live. i’ll get on my other plans as i can, but there’s this for now! enjoy!

“Are we there yet?” “No, not yet.” “Are we there yet?!” “No, not yet.” “Are we THERE YET?!” “No, not y-” “Would you guys quit it back there?! I can’t focus on driving!” “Just ignore them, we’re almost there, anyway…” Such was the standard soundtrack on trips like these. The wagon bumped along the well worn dirt road, the horses kicking up dust as they went. The front row of the wagon was full to capacity- four people across, full of two parents and two elder children, with no space to spare for the four younger kids in the back. Just a farming family on their way to marketplace, laden down with kids and corn. Another standard around here. Three of the kids tumbled around among the market-boud corn, fooling around in the way bored children do. The last sat with his legs dangling over the back of the cart. The farmer boy kicked his feet idly, green eyed gaze sliding over the brush and wide fields along the road. A shock of messy brown curls rustled in the breeze. He reached up to smooth it down. It needed to stay in the cool swooshing style he’d seen on the cover of his older brother’s novels. His plaid tunic hung loosely off his lanky frame, his leggings more like a pair of pillowcases. Hand me downs. Nothing he wasn’t used to. He’d stuffed the ends of his leggings into his boots. Snatched a belt from his father’s closet to cinch the tunic around his waist. A patchwork look, sure, but he was working on it. Heroes can start off a little rough, his books told him. They soak in every little trip until they stumble into adventure. He believed it wholeheartedly. Though he did wish there was more action on their town trips. Heaving a sigh, he pulled his legs under him. Now crouching on the back of the cart, he considered his next move. He could hear whispers of “do a flip- backflip-! Do it do it-” behind him. He tensed his legs, holding tight to the back of the cart. Coiled to flip backwards, he cast a mischievous glance back at his siblings- And caught his mother’s eyes. “Theodore, don’t y’all dare!” her sharp voice flew back. “How many times’ve ah told ya ta stop doin’ that? Yer gonna get hurt ‘n knock corn outta the cart!” “Sorry ma,” Theodore said sheepishly, “cain’t help myself…” He let himself flop backwards instead. His siblings giggled and squawked as he did so, tossing corn at him. Grumbling from the front of the cart said his mother wasn’t amused. But it was fine, when was she? “Theo theo theo!!!” his youngest sister- Elise- chattered. “Whaddaya think we’re gon’ see in town today???” “Probably nothing cool,” Nilo piped up, his arms crossed defiantly. Always the cynic, his younger brother. “There’s never anythin’ cool in town…” “Don’t be so sure!” a chipper voice piped up, another slinging an arm around Nilo’s shoulders. “There could be ghosts ‘er somethin!!!” Nilo’s twin, Tyler, was definitely the more energetic of the pair. Theodore couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics. “We’ll find out when we get there, eh?” he grinned. Popping his collar, he leaned in conspiratorially. “Ah heard from Jessie that th’ candyman’s in town again,” he whispered. His siblings’ eyes gleamed in excitement. “Ah can prolly buy ‘n sneak a bag ‘er two inta th’ wagon. Jes make sure y’all stick by ma ‘n pa this time.” “We don’ want a repeat a’ last month,” Nilo snickered, nudging his twin. “Ay, you shuttit, I did mah part!” Tyler squeaked. “‘S not mah fault pa decided ta check th’ cart fer Theo!” “Y’all both need ta pay attention ta what’s goin on ‘round ya,” Elise giggled. “I’ve always been better at coverin’ than y’all.” “Hey now, one week at a time,” Theodore shook his head, beaming widely. “We’ll git it this time. Ah promise.” Theodore cast a look at the cart’s front row. Dean and Carrie were busy talking to ma and pa about something or other. Crop pricing, probably. Didn’t seem like anyone heard anything. Good. He stuck his hand out, winking at his siblings. “Hands in fer good luck?” Giggling and smiling, his siblings stuck their hands on top of his. “Hands in!” “You bet!” “We gon’ git it…!” “Awrite. Let’s get this show on th’ road…”

The wagon trundled into town half an hour later, the horses snorting as their hooves clacked on a cobblestone road. Sun beaten buildings lined the path, worn wooden sides tacked up with posters and shoddy repair jobs. Plenty of people milled about between them. The crowds parted ways lazily around the wagon, a couple people waving or shouting out a greeting. Standard trip. Standard town. Standard people. The kids in the back didn’t pay mind to any of it. Their eyes were fixed on the approaching town square. Today it was chock full of wagons just like theirs. Wheat, beans, hay, millet- you name a crop, someone was probably selling it. A few travelling merchants had their cart shops set up, too. Bright colors and fabric hangings adorned their stalls. All the better to catch someone’s eye. A good thing, too. That’s what the kids were really interested in. Theodore and his siblings exchanged glances as their parents guided the cart into their usual space. He’d have to work fast today. His siblings had better be on their game. The gentle rock of the wagon as his father climbed to the ground drew him from his thoughts. “Awright y’all,” His father called out, hands on his hips. “I wanna see alla’y’all helpin with the sellin today. Les’ git movin’.” Dean and Carrie hopped down after pa, both instantly pulling down their usual stall crates to set up. So those three wouldn’t be a problem- hopefully. He trusted his partners in crime to keep them busy. They’d scrambled down after the group, already squabbling about something or over. Nah. It was ma he worried about. Ma was busy adjusting her large sunhat and southern belle’s dress, swiping off dust from the road. He tried to look as innocent as possible when she turned to face him. “Yer pa’s gonna help Dean ‘n Carrie up front with handlin’ th’ gold,” his mother explained firmly, “so I don’ wanna hear of any funny business goin’ on while ah’m out browsin’.” “Of course, ma,” Theodore nodded. “We’ll be mindin’ th’ shop. Ya don’t gotta worry.” “Mmh. Thas’ what y’all said last month,” his mother huffed. “Ah expect more a’ all of you. No funny dancin’ around ’r tumblin in the dirt ‘r runnin off ta who knows where ‘n scarin us half ta death, or any’a that.” “I getcha, I getcha…” Theodore’s fingers twitched up towards his hair, fidgeting nervously. “I promise we’ll be handlin things here.” Mostly. “Awrite,” his mother said drily. She sighed, giving her sunhat one last tug before hopping down. “An quit playin with yer hair, Theo. If y’all keep treatin it like a toy, we’re cuttin it off.” His hands fell quick as a hare, knuckles nearly knocking them against the wagon’s wood. “Thas’ what ah thought.” Theodore watched her walk off into the marketplace, face burning a bit. Revaew, he had to quit doing that in front of his parents. There was no way he’d let them ruin his look. Sheesh. He waited until ma quit glancing back to move. He slid off the cart, making his way around to the gated back. He grunted as he slid his hands under it, carefully unhooking and lowering the gate so none of the corn spilled out. Around him, he could hear Nilo and Tyler arguing over who’d get to put the sign out. Dean and Carrie would get on that after they finished stall setup. And Elise was up with pa, using her influence as a papa’s girl to keep his eyes on her. Perfect. He fooled around in the back for a little longer, pretending to inspect the corn. He just needed an opening. Just a small one, so he could slip out. Eventually, the moment came. With all three of his partners in crime deep in bickering, squabbling, and poking at things they shouldn’t, the three elders had their hands full and then some. Theodore managed to sneak out easily around the back. He ran along the cramped alleyway behind the stalls, making sure to put plenty of distance between his home wagon and himself. He popped out in the middle of the silk merchants’ stall. They gave him a strange look at first. But when he swaggered right past, hands tucked in his belt and gaze comfortably uninterested, they turned back to business. Good. Nobody ever pays attention if you’ve got enough confidence, he thought smugly. The marketplace spread vibrant and dusty before him. The usual area sellers were shouting to sell their wares much farther down the street. The town kept this place open for merchants. They were hard to come by, sure. But they had their busy weeks. Theodore grinned as the mix of colors, smells, and sounds swirled around him. “Silk! Fresh spun and cut to a length of your liking!” “Handmade bags and jackets! All cheap! Come’n get it!” “Exotic plants! Guaranteed to keep great and make even greater fruit!” “Toys for the little ones! Wind ups, drag alongs, stuffies, we got it all!” Oh yeah. This was a busy one. He sauntered down the cobblestone paths, keeping his eyes peeled for the swirls and starbursts of the candy stall. The more he walked, the more confused he got. Funnel cake, cotton candy, sweet tarts… all good things, but not something he could stash and hide on the ride home. Where in Revaew’s green world was the candy stall? It had to be somewhere- he trusted Jessie to know what was going on around town. If he doesn’, I’ll have ta find someone better ta be my informant, Theodore thought to himself. Nevertheless, he kept moving. Casual glances from one side of the road to the other and a meandering pace let him blend in with all the other market goers. At least, enough to mask his nervousness. C’mon… his siblings would be so disappointed if he didn’t find- Suddenly, he froze, eyes going wide. Oh no. Oh no. Not ten feet from him stood his mother. She wasn’t facing him, thankfully, but she was right there. If she so much as turned her head the slightest bit, she’d see him. And if she saw him now, he and his siblings be in so much trouble- Not thinking, the boy ducked behind the nearest stall, sprinting back along the alleyways behind the market. Ducking and weaving between different paths, he tried not to focus on the sound of footsteps and squawks from someone trying to tail him. All he wanted to do was get as much distance between his mother and himself before she noticed. He ran faster, ducking down alley after alley, desperation and adrenaline fuelling his mad dash. He could not get caught, he just had to find the candy stall and head back, he- he- Wait a minute. Where was he? Theodore slowed to a stop, leaning heavily on a nearby building. He glanced around as he tried to catch his breath. These were alleyways, sure. But somehow he’d managed to stray from the ones behind the marketplace. Through the gaps of the buildings, he could see the wide open fields and scrub of town outskirts. The hustle and bustle of town echoed far behind him. Where, he couldn't place. Oh boy. Well. This is… less than ideal, he thought nervously. Ah guess ah better keep movin. Try ta find my way back, maybe. His steps were hesitant as he moved forward, eyes sliding over unfamiliar wood and stone. Recognizable landmarks would be great right about now. But. Well. He hadn’t exactly been in this side of town. If those were a bust, maybe he could follow sound? Someone was always trying to play some instrument in the marketplace. He cocked his head to the side, straining for any hint of music. He tensed as something else registered in his ears. A strange… puffing sound. Like someone was throwing something at the ground, or stirring up dust. His brows furrowed in confusion. As he strained for more, he caught a glimpse of something bright and gold flashing above the roof of a nearby building. His eyes glimmered softly as it faded away. “What’n th’ hell…?” he mumbled. … his worries about getting back to the marketplace didn’t seem so dire. I gotta find out what that is. Head cocked and gaze sharp, Theodore jogged toward the source of the strange flashes. The closer he got, the more he sped up. The sounds got louder, and he could just make out a voice or two. The gold flashes shimmered bright as diamonds in the sun, looking for all the world like someone was turning treasure into mist. Eventually he spotted a cloud of it receding down an alleyway. There!!! Eagerly pressing forward, he all but ran down the alleyway, skidding to a stop once it opened into a small dirt patch outside of town. His mouth dropped open, eyes widening at the sight. In the center of the patch, someone was busy weaving air into towers. Or, he assumed it was air- what else could the curious coin-colored clouds be??? As he watched, they jumped off the top of one, tucking and rolling several times before their hands hooked on a newly-formed branch of smoky gold. He silently registered a couple other town kids beside him. But they were far from his thoughts. All he could do was watch in complete awe as the stranger swooped and swung through the air, puffs of smoke and gilded air weaving a lovely dance before him. Eventually, the stranger seemed to notice their audience. They smiled, winking at the little group. Theodore could only manage a tiny wave in return. He’d never- never- seen anything like this. The flips, yes- he’d been doing those since he was little- and the stranger was doing one hell of an impressive job with ‘em- but he’d not seen anything close to the strange gold sheen in the air. Not even in his wildest dreams. None of his storybooks had this sort of- sort of- whatever the stranger was doing. Yet he couldn’t help but feel he was staring down a legend. With a rather extravagant backflip, the stranger tossed a puff of gold at the air before them- and- disappeared?! The little group gasped. Theodore felt his shoulders tense anxiously. Where had they gone? Why was their gold fog fading? Had he just imagined the whole thing??? He glanced around helplessly at the few others around him. They all blinked, just as confused as he was. What happened? Before he could wonder too much longer, another puff of gold exploded in the air above them. Everyone gasped again as the stranger popped back into existence, flipping through the air. Dust kicked up as their boots landed firmly in the center of the dirt patch, mingling with the glimmering sheen of fading golden smoke. Everyone sat in awestruck silence for a moment. Then... The stranger grinned. And took a deep bow. Theodore was clapping before he knew what he was doing, a dopey grin taking up half his face. He faintly registered one of the group peeling off towards the alleyways. He didn’t pay it too much mind. He was much too focused on how the stranger was looking at him. “Well, seems someone enjoyed the performance, mh?” they grinned. Theodore glanced around- surely they were talking to someone else- but, no, their gaze was squarely on him. Everyone else wasn’t even moving. He nodded vigorously, eager smile still in place. “Y-yessir! Er- ma’am- er- pal?- It was real cool! I ain’t never seen anythin’ quite like it!” he stammered.. “Yer moves were amazin- and- what- what was that cloudy stuff?” He paused, wondering briefly if he wasn’t supposed to inquire such things. His face reddened as he continued. “A-ah mean. If y’all don’ mind me askin’...?” The stranger just chuckled, shaking their head. “It’s quite alright,” they hummed. “I don’t tend to pass through here often- I’m jus glad I caught some gazes while practicing. And… I don’t think you’da seen much of this anyway.” They held out a hand, Theodore gasping softly as golden smoke rose from their palm. “It’s magic, kid.” The second the words registered, Theodore froze. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he felt he couldn’t breathe. Magic? That was magic? His brows furrowed in utter confusion. His gaze bounced between the gold mist and the stranger’s face. Part of him whispered he should turn and go, but- surely- surely it couldn’t be! Magic was a destructive force. Something horrid and corrupting and full of nothing but misery and laziness. You knew it when you saw it. You knew it to avoid it. And it was never, never anything good. At least, that’s what his parents said anytime someone mentioned it. That’s all anyone in town ever said when someone mentioned magic. He’d not had reason to doubt until now. “... are… are y’all sure that’s magic…?” he echoed softly. The stranger seemed to pick up on his unease. Letting the gold fade away, they nodded. “Yeah, that’s magic, kid,” they replied. “Swear on my heart.” “But- but how’d ya-” Theodore gestured for a minute, trying to put to words his clashing thoughts- “how’re y’all usin it without gettin hurt or somethin? That all looked like- like fun, not like trouble!” The stranger tilted their head a bit, a flash of something- pity?- crossing their face. Theodore fidgeted a bit, and it was gone. “Magic’s not bad, kiddo, as long as you’re keepin an eye on it,” the stranger said gently. They gestured to the air around them as they continued. “You can do a whole lot with it- every little bit of gold you saw was a spell! ‘S not all bad, ‘s long as ya know what you’re doin. Magic helps ya do anythin ya put your mind to. Like ya saw, you can mash it together with all kinds’a fancy moves, too. Y’all can do amazin’ things if you keep tabs on your spellwork ‘n watch yourself.” “... really?” Theodore breathed. “Really,” the stranger nodded. “Tha’s… I… hey, wait a sec-” Theodore said hurriedly, “who’s the “you” y’all’re talkin’ ‘bout? Y’all n who else? ‘S there other magic castin’ folks around? Where- where’re they hidin? Who are they?” The stranger chuckled at his eagerness, holding up a hand. Theodore fell silent reflexively, standing up a little straighter. They didn’t look annoyed, but. Well. Habit wouldn’t be ignored. They looked down at him, spreading their hands out at their sides. “Well… yeah, if you know where to look,” they smiled knowingly. “Just… for safety, I won’t list names. But, if you want to know…” They leaned in conspiratorially, eyes shining. “It’s me and every other human around.” Theodore stared at them, blinking owlishly. His words took a minute to find their sound, drifting around his head before he could get bits of them out. “Ev… every… person...? Y… w-whaddaya… how…?” he said softly. “Anyone can use magic, kid,” the stranger said gently. “Even you. You just gotta dig for it.” Theodore just… fell silent. This felt like something he shouldn’t know, but. Well. Here he was. And he’d never been one to turn down something big. Slowly, his gaze drifted down to his hands. Anyone can use magic? He knew he wanted to do something big when he grew up. He couldn’t run the farm- not with Dean ‘n Carrie filling those roles. He loved his little siblings, but they… his parents had plans for them. He was just. Stuck in the middle. He knew he had to do something to stand out. And… well… something about the sight of the stranger swinging around, the clapping and cheering, the golden haze and look of pure bliss on their face, the pure legendary aura that hung off of them, and the amazement they got from the crowd... He wanted that. And he wanted it desperately. Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to think on it before an angry voice rang out. “What ‘n the hell’s goin’ on here?!” Theodore froze in place at the voice, body going stiff and straight as a board. Uh oh. He cast a nervous glance behind him. Standing at the mouth of the alleyway was a small group of adults. The kid he’d seen sprint off a few minutes ago was among them, hiding behind the leader. And- with his heart sinking- he realized that wasn’t the only person he recognized. His mother was there. Glaring at him. In fact, none of the group looked happy. At all. “Kids, git over here, will ya?” the leader said calmly. Though his eyes said he was anything but. The other couple kids around trotted obediently into the group. They disappeared behind a wall of adults, a ring of angry cattle protecting their calves. But Theodore couldn’t get himself to move. He hadn’t quite realized how close he’d strayed to the stranger. And now, with all these eyes on him, he couldn’t move. He just looked back at the leader, terror bubbling across his face. The leader eyed him for a moment. With a click of his tongue, his mother darted out from the group. Theodore cowered as she neared, but that didn’t stop her. Her hand shackled quickly around his wrist, yanking him roughly- frantically- desperately- panicky- back with her to the group. He felt himself pushed into the center quickly, pressed up against other wide eyed kids. A second later, grumbling and muttering broke out. Voices were muffled, stretching over him and his fellows like a cup over a fly. What was going on?! He wiggled around a bit, trying to get a good look. But the wall of adults- his mother included- wouldn’t budge an inch. He needed to see what was happening. But he had to work with what was on hand. He took a gamble and crouched down, peering out from their legs. The sound didn’t travel well, but he could see the stranger’s face. And lip reading did the legwork there. “‘S there a problem, sir?” the stranger asked, chipper tone wavering. “Yeah. I’m lookin at it,” the leader growled. He spat on the ground, disdain all over his face. “Y’all know we don’ like yer kind around here.” “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you m-” the stranger tried, but they didn’t get far. The leader took a menacing step towards them. Theodore could feel the anger radiating off of him. Go, he pleaded mentally, you’re not safe here. “Git out of our town,” the leader hissed. “Or we’ll make ya.” “There’s no need t-” “Ah said git.” With another click of his tongue, the group suddenly lurched forward. Panicked legs crashed against Theodore’s back, sending him tumbling facefirst into the dirt. Oh shit. Theodore curled up frantically, arms covering his head. The group surged forward again, boots and bare feet barely missing his body. When he looked up again, the group was advancing steadily towards the stranger. The sight slammed his heart into his ribs. Oh Revaew- what was going on?! The stranger just stepped back cautiously, hands out and trying to placate them. Theodore couldn’t see what they were saying, but he knew they were in trouble- they were in trouble- they had to get out- they- oh Revaew- his breath was catching in his throat. I can’t let them do this. Scrambling to his feet, the boy ran blindly past the menacing mob. Nobody noticed him until it was too late. He waved his hands at the stranger desperately. “YOU HAVE TO GO!” he cried. And that was all he had time to get out. The mob- that’s what it was- oh revaew- exploded into chaos. He felt hands grabbing and shoving him back behind the adults, many of them surging forward toward the stranger. He tried desperately to slip past- to yell- to hope frantically that the stranger was ok. But they’d been warned. With a flash bang of smoky magic, they were off. The sound and sight was enough to freeze the crowd for a moment. Enough for Theodore to wiggle free and watch. Though the mob bellowed and crashed, the stranger swung out of reach, golden clouds lifting them out of the way. Their gold branching towers ferried them quickly- gracefully- away from danger. With a tuck, roll, and dive, they landed perfectly on their boots a hundred feet away. Theodore felt their eyes linger on him for just a moment. His own were wide, full of naught but wonder. “REMEMBER, KID!” they shouted, turning tail to run, “A TRUE SHOWMAN ALWAYS LANDS ON THEIR FEET!” And hits the ground running, theodore thought softly.

The boy didn’t really process what happened after that. He felt the mob quiet back into a crowd. He felt their anger melt into crushing concern. He felt the words of many swirling around him, none of them sticking with the phrase that echoed in his mind. Eventually, he felt his mother dragging him back to the family stall, berating and fussing over him the whole time. It was only when corn gently rustled beneath him, and his siblings gently touched him, that he finally broke from his stupor. He shook his head, holding up a hand. He did what he could to soothe his siblings worries. It wasn’t too hard- spin a tale, flash a confident grin, and make some joke about having to try again on the candyman- they calmed down quick enough. He was left to sit in the back of the cart. As the sounds of the ride relaxed into something resembling the standard, theodore stared thoughtfully out over the path. A true showman always lands on their feet. … And hits the ground running. But… Magic isn’t dangerous, not if you keep an eye on it. How had nobody told him this before? Or that… that… Anyone can do magic. … Even him. The boy’s thoughts trundled steadily along like the wagon, though they were many miles away. The day left much to think about.

#afw #a familiar world #afw chapter #my story #arty writes #journal sherman drapht #wahoo fun times with da boi :VVV #anyway slkdjf #enjoy this #i had fun workin with it n figurin out my boy ^^

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cherry3point14 · 4 years ago

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What Does The Fox Say?

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Crack. Orgy. Sex Party. Don’t let your nethers tingle, it’s barely flirting. SYNONYMS. Word Count: 2,300ish. Summary/Prompt: There’s a case. Witches or something, and they’re killing people, specifically furries, maybe. As such one Dean Winchester goes to a furry sex party to look for clues... A/N: Written for @kalesrebellion “Bring On the Giggles” challenge. I think hope my synonyms for this challenge will be fairly obvious. Also, shoutout to @winchesters-meaty-feast who entertained my panic as this deadline loomed and pretty much talked me into birthing this ~thing. Sidenote - no disrespect to the furries who walk among us. It’s all exaggerated crack!fic. Peace and love. Yiffy on friends.

From the outside, it looks like any other two-story townhouse. There’s a car parked out front, normal mailbox, the works. Regular suburban home. The first clue that something out of the ordinary is happening inside—where the ordinary is mom, dad, and two-point four ankle-biters having dinner—is the windows. They’re all covered, curtains or blinds, it doesn’t matter. This is what it looks like when humans try to cover their tracks. Monsters choose places that are already deserted and forgotten. Humans hide in plain sight and end up sticking out like a sore thumb. Plus Dean has spent all day talking to furries about this house. Yeah, that’s the biggest clue, not the damn curtains. He’s had multiple lectures, not only from Sam but the furries, people, themselves. It’s not all about porn. They’d told him adamantly. Showed him drawings and all these things they’d made each other, and pictures from their conventions. We’re not all perverts! They could say it until they were blue in the face (they had), but Dean’s standing here looking at this house, knowing what’s inside, and it’s hard to believe the furries-are-innocent propaganda. It’s even harder to believe he’s walking in there of his own free will. The things he’ll do to save lives. Sam told him to change because “Freeze, FBI” might not go down well at this particular house party. What’s he supposed to change into? A Halloween costume? That suggestion earned him yet another talk about respecting people’s interests. Whatever. He gets it, they don’t all have full fursuit things and even the ones that do, don’t generally fuck in them, and really? Is it really fucking necessary that he knows this much about furries? At least he can put on a plain black tee and some jeans and Sam only half presses his lips together in disapproval. What is his brother expecting him to wear to a furry sex party? Cat ears? (Dean is offended by the implication even if Sam didn't say it out loud). Eventually, shuffling his feet, he makes it to the door and knocks. He doesn’t want to be here but Sam’s working another lead on the other side of town at a D&D meet up. All jokes about dungeons aside, Dean would have given up his music privileges all the way back to Kansas to switch places. Once again, scissors bit him in the ass. The door opens a few inches, enough to see, hand to god, a guy in white rabbit-ish body paint. He raises his eyebrows in Dean’s direction like he’s asking for something without saying the words. The guy definitely doesn’t twitch his nose and it definitely doesn’t remind Dean of that bunny from Bambi. Oh shit. The password. Right, because that was how you made a gathering like this more legit and less embarrassing. Dean’s throat tightens like the words don’t want to come out, or like he doesn’t want them to exist, “Yiffy Ki Yay.” Furry sons of bitches have even ruined Die Hard. The guy nods and pulls the door open enough to let Dean slide in, but not reveal too much of the clandestine activities to the outside world. Not that anyone on Maple Avenue is looking into this particular door. Either the neighbors know better or they don’t care. Although now that he’s inside Dean can see his nameless host is also wearing tall, white ears and furry cuffs on his ankles and wrists. The first of what, Dean assumes, will be many red flags that he should leave. Not that he heeds the warning. “First time?” The rabbit asks while Dean attempts to scan as much as he can see without a slack jaw. “Yeah,” he breathes out. Dean has been around the block. He’s seen the inside of more than just strip clubs. His number one use of the Internet is porn, his second? More porn. This is something else. He’s not judging, well, he's trying not to judge and failing miserably. These people aren’t hurting anyone though. In fact, someone might be trying to hurt them. Or the D&D players. They were still on the fence about how the groups were linked beside the weird deaths. Granted some of this party seems very vanilla from what he can see. He catches a glimpse of the dining room, which has been cleared of most of its furniture, and there’s your everyday orgy of mangled limbs. Those limbs happen to be a little furrier than normal is all. Thankfully not everyone is dressed as an animal. Not that anybody will be telling Sam that he was right. Some people are dotted around watching, or drinking like the sex isn’t happening, and some of the people getting involved are in plain clothes. Or, naked but not wearing any sort of animal accessory. At first glance, there’s a part of Dean that thinks he can appreciate the hedonism of it, without being bogged down by the fact that they're all cosplaying as goddamn animals. Animal enthusiasts, he corrects in his head before Sam telepathically delivers a bitch face from across town. And then he’s walking through the kitchen and there are two people nuzzling each other. People might not be the right word because they’re dressed as cats. Holding each other and stretching and bending their limbs. All feline movements and what he thinks is a purring noise, but he can’t confirm or deny because of the music coming from the cheap speakers on the counter. It might be sweet if it wasn’t in the middle of a sex party. Yeah, this is still going to take some getting used to. The rabbit is yammering, mentioning ground rules that Dean is only half listening to while he tries not to stare at the cats. He’s listening enough to follow the rules but actually, he can’t bring himself to look away from the most PC thing happening in the joint. “Did you get that because I heard the door…?” This time Floppy speaks with enough urgency that Dean snaps his focus back to the white rabbit. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll-” he wants to say ‘mingle’ like it’s a seventies swingers party and his biggest concern is where his car keys are. He licks his dry lips and they still feel like sandpaper, “-look around.” He does need to look around, talk to people, do his job. That’s why he’s here feeling like the spare dick at a fucking contest. Dean knows his limits though and before he investigates he's gonna need a beer. Once he’s got a bottle in his hand, which he got from the fridge because he doesn’t trust anything that was sitting on any surface, even unopened, he starts climbing the stairs. The tinny music, the sound of bodies slapping against each other, and the low din of people talking like normal adults all fade with each step until he’s at the top. Practically not at a furry orgy anymore. Except it’s a new horrific game now. What’s behind door number one? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers Whiskers going on about the rules of the rooms. Lock up if you want privacy. Unlocked and shut means viewers welcome. Open doors are an invitation to play. That’s the word Thumper had used, play. The first door is locked. He skips the second because he can hear what's going on inside and even if he was in the mood to creep (he’s not), you don't walk in on the money shot. The third room is a bathroom, a stark reminder he's in a house that people live in. The fourth door he tries is blissfully empty. It looks like a guest room. Walls that are basic beige and nothing identifying. Then he sits on the bed and presses his back into the wall. He realizes this bed has probably been used for the activities he’s already seen tonight. Out of sight, out of mind. Dean takes out his phone and stares, annoyed, at the screen. Sam hasn’t messaged him, so the case isn’t solved and he doesn’t have an excuse to leave. He takes a swig of his beer and types with his free hand, trying to make an excuse. Find anything yet? Another long drag while he waits, forcing the drink down his throat in the hopes of some small semblance of dutch courage. Or in the hopes that everything is solved, so he can go back to the motel and beat his meat to hentai like a normal person. No, but this is actually really interesting. You? Dean’s fingers twitch wanting nothing more than to throw the phone against a wall. If he wasn’t obligated to text back to illustrate that he’s still alive then he might leave Sam high and dry. As it is his reply is short and simple. Nothing. He feels no need to mention that he hasn’t actually looked yet. Dean puts his phone away and throws his head back against the wall at the exact moment the door opens. She stumbles in with the ghost of a giggle on her lips. He’s expecting there to be someone following her considering the party he’s attending. Two people blundering into a room looking for a place to get some privacy. Except she’s alone and she’s not concerned to find him alone either. Her eyes widen a little but her smile is soft, “sorry, you’re not waiting on someone are you?” “Me?” He asks, concerned that he has picked up some paraphernalia along the way. Anything that might suggest he’s a part of this. She continues to wait for an answer to her question instead of answering his. “No, Nah. Just taking a breather.” “Thank god, me too.” She blows out a relieved puff of air before shutting the door behind her. In doing so she flashes him her tail. She’s a fox. Or some version of a fox. She hasn’t gone as far as body paint. Her outfit almost seems costumey rather than serious. It’s this orange mini dress—if it could be called a dress for how little it leaves to his imagination—with a bushy, foxtail attached. He hadn’t noticed her ears immediately, but now he’s seen them, there they are. Ginger and pointed on top of her head, and when she turns back to him he finally notices the little, black nose she has painted on. She sits down next to him, scoots herself on top of the sheets making them bunch under her. She doesn’t seem to care about him having dibs over the bed or room and it only takes a few seconds for him to not care either. In this close proximity, inches apart, he doesn’t see a fox, even if she is definitely dressed up as a fox. He sees bare legs crossed at the ankle, her dress fighting to contain her cleavage and the sheen of her skin from dancing. She’s holding a red solo cup, he assumes half full of alcohol considering the pink flushing her cheeks. “I’m going to take a guess,” she leans until her shoulder is pressed against his arm, “you’re either a first-timer or you’re lost.” Dean laughs because he feels lost even if his cover is supposed to be the former. “First time, that obvious, huh? Thanks for pointing it out. Real considerate of you.” She bites her lip enough to get him looking at her mouth. Thinking about her mouth. “Wolf?” “What?” “I get it, first-timers are still trying to be normal, but the dark colors and the brooding loner thing you have going on in here. A wolf missing his pack?” She brings her knees up and bends her legs under herself while she guesses. Twists her body in his direction. He can’t tell if she’s joking. It sounds half ridiculous and makes him think of the kind of wolves he hunts. Dean lies anyway, “ding ding. Tell the woman what she’s won. Or do you prefer..?” Dean waves a hand to her everything fox related as if he might seriously start using ‘fox’ instead of ‘woman’. His gesturing hand lands on her waist while the other takes another swig from his brown bottle. “‘S fine. We’re all still people underneath. I’ve got a job and everything.” She rolls her shoulders like she’s showing off for being employed, which shuffles her whole body half an inch closer to his until her knees are touching his thigh. She’s facing him, his arm still lazily, half wrapped around her as she raises her cup to her lips. “Oh yeah, what do you do, sweetheart?” He lets the syrup fall from his mouth because foxes like honey.

She laughs, the sound tinkles in the space between them. “I’m a diner chef. Nothing exciting unless you like to eat?” His tongue peeks out between his teeth, his lips smirking suggestively. “I’ve been known to enjoy a-,” Dean's eyes flick down her body to where her dress is stretching over her thighs, and then back to her face, “fur burger.” Nowhere else on the fucking planet would he get away with saying that. Only at a furry sex party. She doesn’t just smile at his line though, she hums, pleased he’s playing along, and slides a hand along the outer hem of his jeans. Fingers slowly crawling up his leg and tracing the denim.

One blink and the air is thicker, heavier, and Dean doesn’t give a shit when it happened.

Her eyes flash playfully as she finishes her drink. “Mmm, the only way to make sure a burger is done is a good thrust of a meat thermometer.”

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 @jesseswartzwelder Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @erins-culinary-service @bloodydaydreamer @iamabeautifulperson18 @ellewritesfix05

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thecleverdame · 5 years ago

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Gods of Twilight - 20

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking. This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

Sam moved you to the south tower. The constant blood-curdling screams echoing throughout the halls of the castle have perked interest, and gossip has spread like wildfire. While far fetched tales of Sam and his brutality have always been whispered in the shadows, the stories have evolved. In these latest tales, Sam was so unhappy that his wife gave him a daughter instead of a son, that he had you locked away in the tower, where you’re slowly going insane.

While Sam is dealing with rumors and a desperate search for your would-be murderer, you’re unaware that life is going on around you. It’s been nearly a month since you began the change and it’s proved to be a slower, more painful process than usual.

Ellen was sent home to Lebanon by the man who helped Sam survive his own change. She’s assisted in the transformation of hundreds of wolves, but you’re proving to be one of her more challenging cases.

"How is she?" Sam lingers in the hallway outside the open door to your room.

"She's alive." Ellen and Sam both wince as a horrific scream cries out.

Sam's eyes flutter closed. He's hardly able to handle the idea of you in such constant, long term pain. While he wants nothing more than for you to survive this transition, he's also doubtful you'll come out on the other side the same person he knew before.

"Her bones started their first break this morning," Ellen explains, crossing her arms over her belly. "Two ribs and her left arm. This will be the worst of it. If she can survive this, I have faith she'll be fine."

"I remember what it felt like." Sam gulps, uncomfortable with the memory.

During the change, long before a wolf ever shifts under the fat moon, the bones realign themselves. Part of this process involves the breaking and healing of nearly every bone in one's body. He can vividly recall the sound of his fingers snapping, one by one and the spine curling pain that accompanied it. There was nothing to ease the agony and he wished every moment that he could die.

You're having an altogether different experience. You haven't been coherent since you burst back to life on the funeral slab. Ellen has become increasingly concerned the longer you go without speaking or being able to communicate. You’ve been reduced to nothing more than base instincts, and suffering through unending torture.

"How is the child?" Ellen asks, trying her best to ignore the constant string of nonsensical babbling as you sink further into delirium.

"It’s been difficult. She’s not gaining weight as fast as the midwife would like. She cries...all the time."

"I'll find someone," Ellen nods in understanding. "A wet nurse from our pack. Your daughter has your blood, it's possible she needs milk from one of us to satisfy her."

"She needs her mother," he retorts, hands balling into fists at his side.

"Yes, but it won't do us any good to dwell on what we can’t have." Ellen leans back into the room, checking. "Are you going to sit with her today?"

"I don't have the stomach for it. She doesn't know I'm here and I don’t think I can handle listening to her bones snap." Nausea settles into Sam's gut. "Watch over her and update me straight away with any developments."

"Of course," Ellen assures him, watching as he strides back down the hallway.

Sam feels overwhelming guilt. He should stay with you, it's what a good husband would do. But he can't bear to see you like this anymore. It's been months of you tied to a bed, writhing and crying while he's helpless to do anything about it. He simply can't take another moment.

Six Weeks Later

The world is nothing more than fire and pain. Two thoughts have consumed every waking moment for as long as you can remember. It seems there was no before or after, only the here and now. And yet, there's a change, a shift from spine curling pain to a black void. There's nothing and you wonder if you're in heaven, hell, or the limbo in between.

Then a voice, muted and hollow.

Another voice, this one familiar. The sounds echo and reverberate, slowly becoming clearer and clearer until at once everything snaps into focus.

It's a man, no, two men.

"What are you doing in here!" A strong voice shouts, filled with anger.

"I've stayed away long enough," the second man answers, just as agitated. "I came to check on her."

"This is your fault. She wouldn't be in this position if it wasn't for you."

"I did what I thought was best. She was strong, I thought she'd make the change."

"She's been like this for weeks. She's an empty shell, a lifeless body in a bed. She suffered and now she sleeps, likely for the rest of her life."

"That was never what I intended."

There's a tingling in your stomach, warm comfort that turns you into jelly. You've not felt any comfort for an eternity, but the closer the voices get to you, the more the warm, satisfied feeling grows. You fight to open your eyes, mustering every last ounce of strength you rally until...one...two...three...and open your eyes.

The voices you heard belong to the two men having a heated argument next to the bed you're lying in. There's no context, you're not sure of anything, including who you are. Your mind is a blank slate, but what you do know is that as they argue back and forth, they're getting closer and closer. And the feeling is expanding, radiating out until you're vibrating with a strange pleasure from head to toe.

"Whhh," you make a strangled noise, your throat so dry, tongue so stiff that words won't form. They don't hear you, still carrying on with their spat. "Whh!" you grunt again, louder this time, summoning the strength to lift a shaking arm.

The taller of the two men sees you now, his expression stilling as he goes silent. There was anger in his face before, but now he's wide eyes, staring at you in shock.

"My God," he breathes, pushing the other man out of the way and climbing onto the mattress to sit next to you. "You're awake."

You look from him to the other man, now frozen in place, his eyes locked on you.

"She needs water," the man throws up a hand and a woman appears in your view, filling a cup and rushing to hand it to him. "Here," the man helps you sit up and places the cup at your lips; you sputter but drink as much as you can.

"What's happened?" Another woman enters the room. She looks at both the men, then to you. "Thank the Lord! I didn't think we'd ever see her open her eyes again."

"She's awake now," the stranger sitting on the bed reaches out, soothing your hair back and you pull away. "It's alright. You're going to be just fine."

"Do you understand him?" The older woman stands at the foot of the bed. "Understand his words?"

You nod yes, looking wildly from person to person. Who are these people? What’s happened to you?

"Do you know who he is?" she asks, gesturing to the tall man.

You stare at the man, his eyes looking earnestly into yours. His smell is mildly pleasing but other than that you have no earthly idea.

"N-no," you stammer and shake your head.

The man takes in a sharp breath, flinching as if he's been slapped.

Sam's heart simultaneously swells and breaks at the same time. His wife is staring at him as if he's a stranger off the streets. You're bewildered, conscious for the first time in months but seemingly devoid of any true connection to anything, or anyone around you.

"That's alright," Ellen places a hand on your foot, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've been through a terrible trauma. I've seen this before." She looks at Sam. "Her memories will return eventually."

"I don't..." you start, unsure of what you even want to convey. You're confused and overwhelmed...but there's something familiar. A scent that keeps growing stronger.

"It's alright. We're so happy you're awake." Ellen smiles. "Can you tell us what your name is?"

You blink, looking down at your hands.

"I don't know." Tears pool in your eyes and Sam wants to crawl into the bed and hold you, but you clearly aren't ready for that.

"I'll help you remember," Sam nods, swallowing his emotion. "You're my wife. You've been sick for a long time, but you're healed now."

"Your wife," you whisper, studying his face. He's handsome but there's no recognition. "What about him?" You point to Dean.

"You should leave," Sam turns to his brother. "You have no place here."

"Fine." Dean's jaw locks.

"Wait," you interrupt, all attention snapping back to you. You lean closer, closing your eyes and drawing in a breath. "Please don't make him go."

Sam bites back to the urge to scream; to choke the life out of his brother.

"He just..." you trail off, staring at your husband’s brother.

"He what, sweetheart?" Ellen asks, coming around the side of the bed.

"I, um, I feel, he...the way he smells ...it's soothing. Can he stay?"

Sam snorts a dry abrupt humorless grunt. He knew this was a possibility but he hoped he would be spared this.

"What?" Dean looks from you to Sam, genuinely perplexed. "She's just confused. He is your husband."

"I'm sorry," you drop your eyes into your lap, looking away from both men in shame.

"What did you think would happen, Dean?"

"You claimed her, Sam. I only turned her."

"Do you see my mark?" Sam points at your throat, practically hissing with fury. "My claim healed when her body turned. Your bite is the only mark on her." Sam stands up, shoulders rolling as Dean steps back in tandem. "She's mine. My wife, the mother of my child."

"Do you hear me arguing?" Dean cocks his head. "I had no intention of becoming her Alpha. I was trying to save her for you, Sam. I did this for you."

"Get out!" Sam shoves Dean hard as he can. It's a challenge he'd normally return with equal fervor, but not now. Sam is defending his territory and Dean's overstepped his bounds, good intentions be damned.

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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ellewritesfix05 · 4 years ago

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Prince Charming

Characters: Sam x Reader, Maggie, Jack, Dean, Bobby

Warnings: Fluff, like one or two “bad words”(?)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I was watching Mamma Mia 2 a couple days ago and thought up this little fic based on a song from the movie, Andante Andante by ABBA. I really hope you like it 💜 Listen to the song here . If you’d like to be added to my Sam Darlings taglist, let me know here ☺️

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

The bunker had never been so full of life. Being part of the large group of people that was rescued from Apocalypse World by the Winchesters, you didn’t know this but, seeing the way Sam and Dean acted, it was apparent that they were not used to a busy bunker. For the past two weeks, you’d tried your best to help around the place, earn your keep by performing as many tasks as you could, anything from going out on hunts to cleaning the common rooms.

For those two weeks, however, you’d also been getting close to the youngest Winchester. It was no secret to anyone that even though the whole family was to thank for your relocation, it was Sam who was the most involved with making sure you all felt safe and comfortable in this alternate universe you now called home. Working closely with him, you couldn’t help but develop a small, innocent crush on the tall hunter.

Admittedly, it had begun with physical attraction, and who could blame you really? Tall and broad shouldered with long, silky hair and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, Sam quickly invaded your unrealistic day dreams of being swept off your feet by your very own Prince Charming. However, the physical appeal soon turned into an emotional affair. Not only was he devastatingly handsome, but he proved to be incredibly smart, strong, and most of all, kind. He didn’t know any of you but the way he took you in and took care of you would make anyone think you were his family. Not to mention, those hazel eyes that seemed to change color every now and then, like a beautiful autumn day.

Yeah, you had it bad for Sam Winchester.

“Earth to (Y/N), anyone home?” Maggie’s snapping in front of your face brought you back to reality.

Looking down at the soaped glass you were supposed to be rinsing, you chuckled in embarrassment, “yeah, sorry Mags. Had my mind somewhere else.”

“Thinking about Sam again, I’m guessing?” Maggie elbowed you playfully. Ever since meeting back at camp in Apocalypse World, you and Maggie had become very close friends. She was more talented in research, while you were a very skilled hunter turned fighter which meant you complimented each other. That and the fact that there weren’t many other people left around the place and those who were didn’t exactly share in your interests. Then again, with the world falling apart around you, who had time for anything other than learning how to survive?

Being your closest friend, Maggie had quickly noticed your interest in Sam. You rolled your eyes but agreed nonetheless, “I was. I just can’t help it. Despite everything we’ve been through, I’m still a hopeless romantic at heart.”

“I get that. It’s okay, it’s good that you didn’t lose that little whimsical part of yourself,” she replied.

“I guess,” you smiled.

“You know,” Maggie started, “with everything going on I was thinking maybe we could have a little party? Have everyone hang out, maybe a little barbecue… and who knows? Maybe you can use that beautifully melodic voice of yours to win him over.”

“Yeah, right!” you snorted. Truth was, while you weren’t the most self-assured person on earth, the one thing you’d always been proud of was your voice. Not that there’d been much singing during the past years, but once in a blue moon you’d have little get-togethers with other people at camp and sing soft melodies of better days. That usually got you compliments, and once even an invitation to dinner by a friend, days before he was killed while out on a supply run.

“Hey! I’m serious,” Maggie chuckled, “just wait until he hears you, he’ll be absolutely floored!”

You smiled and put the last dish on the rack for her to dry, “sure Mags, keep dreaming.”

After drying your hands, you walked out of the kitchen and back to your room. She could be on to something, you thought. Shaking your head at the ridiculous notion that your romantic life would play out like something out of a cheesy rom-com, you flopped down in bed and let sleep and your imagination create yet another impossible scenario for you to live in until morning came.

---

“So, I talked to Sam about the party and he said it was a good idea so it looks like it’s all systems go!” Maggie said, walking into your bedroom.

You placed down the copy of The Marvelous Land of Oz that you’d been reading, upon Sam’s recommendation, on your nightstand and sat up, facing your friend, “what systems? Please tell me this isn’t about your ridiculous plan to get me to sing in the hopes that Sam will magically fall in love with me like I’m the little mermaid or something.”

“What? No!” Maggie lied, “not at all! I just thought the barbecue could be a fun way to have everyone let loose for a night. Like a celebration, and a thank you to the Winchesters.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, completely unconvinced but still deciding to play along, “very well, then. Let’s head out to get some supplies.”

Getting up from the bed, you both walked out of your bedroom and headed towards the library. Maggie stopped in her tracks, “Shoot. We’re going to need to borrow a car. Why don’t you go ask Sam if we can take one of the cars from the garage?”

“Why didn’t you ask him when you talked about the party?” you asked.

“I forgot, sorry.” Maggie shrugged.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll go,” you said, “wipe that smirk off your face, Mags. I’m just asking to borrow a car, not for a date.”

Entering the library, you quickly spotted Sam sitting on a table across the way from Bobby. You walked over to them and cleared your throat softly, waiting for him to notice you since you didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait at all since Sam noticed you right away.

“Hey (Y/N), how’s it going? Do you need something?” he asked, flashing you his signature sunshine smile.

“Uh yeah. I think Maggie talked to you about the barbecue she’s planning? We were hoping to borrow a car from the garage to go get the stuff we need,” you replied in an abnormally soft tone that made Bobby puzzled since he’d never known you to show timidity around anyone before.

Sam’s smile widened, “Yeah, sure thing! The spare keys are in the cabinet down there by the war table, first top drawer from the left.”

“Great, thanks!” you replied, quickly walking away before he could see your reddened cheeks. It was almost unsettling how this one man could have such an effect on you, especially since you’d never felt like this before. Grown ass woman with a schoolgirl crush, for fuck’s sake.

Meeting up with Maggie in the garage, your annoyance at her antics made her laugh as you climbed into a light blue 1972 Dodge Dart, a car you’d seen Sam drive before when Dean wouldn’t let him take the Impala.

---

Six hours later, the food was ready and you were helping Maggie set everything down on the library tables for people to help themselves. Proud of the result, you sat on one of the reading chairs off to the side, sipping on a glass of whiskey as everyone else gathered around the feast. Soon enough, the bunker filled with music, chatter, and laughter as the large group sat and ate while sharing anecdotes of their past before tragedy hit.

It was a couple hours, and more glasses of whiskey, later when someone suggested a song from you. Looking up from your drink, you smiled sheepishly, “Oh I don’t know.”

“Awe, come on (Y/N), you always used to sing for us after a nice meal!” Maggie chimed in, and the rest of your group hummed in agreement.

“Maggie said you have a very nice voice, I’d really like to hear it too,” said Jack, who was sitting next to Sam and Dean.

“Uh, alright then since you asked so nicely,” you replied, rubbing your hands down your thighs in the hopes that the denim would soak up the moisture that had settled upon them.

Turning in their chairs to get a better view, the group placed their attention on you. Suddenly, you were painfully aware of Sam’s focus on you and closed your eyes to calm your unusually hyperactive nerves. Singing was your comfort, how could he make it any different by just looking at you?

Taking a deep breath, you began

Take it easy with me, please

Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze

Take your time, make it slow

Andante, andante

Just let the feeling grow

As your voice filled the room, smiles formed around you. Unbeknownst to you since your eyes avoided him, Sam had discarded his plate of food and found himself inexplicably more drawn to you than usual. While you thought he was simply showing you kindness, all this time he too had come to develop feelings for you. Feelings that the hunter refused to act upon, due to his own bad luck with previous relationships.

Even though he was mesmerized by your beauty from the moment he met you, your voice was now like a siren’s song; enticing and soft, tugging at his heartstrings as he found himself leaning forward, gravitating to the source of such dulcet, beautiful sounds. Sam couldn’t help but be fascinated by you; the way your brow curved, the slight fidgeting of your fingers that moved as though you were playing an instrument.

With newfound courage, you dared to look in his direction and the moment your eyes met, they locked on to each other in a way that made it so he became your sole audience. Everyone and everything around you dissolved until it was only you and Sam, together in the middle of a sea of infinite stars.

There's a shimmer in your eyes

Like the feeling of a thousand butterflies

Please don't talk, go on, play

Andante, andante

And watch me float away

Looking straight at him, you noticed a sparkle in his eye. It made you feel as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Without saying anything, those hazel orbs told you tales of pain and doubt, but also profound tenderness and, dare you say, love?

Andante, andante

Tread lightly on my ground

Andante, andante

Oh, please, don't let me down

Coming to an end, your voice faded into silence until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you back to reality, breaking the eye contact with Sam that neither of you had realized was visible to everyone around you.

Light clapping broke the tension and you looked to the source, Maggie, who was looking around at everyone as if to silently ask them to join in, which they did. Standing up from your chair, you gave a small smile and excused yourself, not risking a look Sam’s way.

If you had, you would’ve noticed his disappointment at your escape as well as the teasing wink Dean gave his little brother.

Walking out of the bunker, you flopped down on a nearby bed of grass, silently begging to be swallowed by the earth then and there. Resting your head on your arms, you almost missed the sound of feet shuffling through grass behind you.

“Y/N? Can I join you?” Sam asked.

Looking up like a startled squirrel, you shot back up and ran your hand through your hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

“Sam! Um, yeah sure,” you looked around and noticed he’d come out to see you alone.

“Hey, uh, is everything okay?”

You nodded and sat back down on the grass, legs crossed, motioning for him to join you.

“I’m okay, just felt kind of tired. Long day,” you said as he sat next to you, his long legs awkwardly folded in front of him.

“You sure? I want to make sure that you’re feeling comfortable here. And I wanted to apologize if I made you feel awkward in there, I didn’t mean to stare,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair and making you wish it was your fingers flowing through the silky strands instead.

You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked towards the trees to avoid his gaze once more, “No. It was my fault, I’m the one that made it look like I was serenading you or something. Which, I wasn’t. It was just a thing that I did, but I am sorry for making you uncomfortable and you didn’t have to come and apologize, you didn’t do anyth-”

“Woah, Y/N, breathe,” Sam laughed, placing a hand on your knee, “I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. To be completely honest, it was actually kind of nice. You really are very talented.”

Widened eyes fixed on the large hand on your knee, your heart began to race and you found yourself speechless. He noticed your reaction and quickly removed his hand, the cold contrast of its absence making your heart drop.

You looked sideways at him, noticing a slight change in his demeanor as if he was saddened by the lack of touch as well, “So you don’t think I was being totally weird?”

“Not at all,” Sam smiled warmly, “I was flattered, actually.”

A new wave of courage took over you, and before you knew it, you were turning to the side to face the handsome hunter, “so, you really did like it?”

“I really did like it,” Sam reached out instinctively and pushed a strand of (Y/H/C) hair behind your ear, the contact of his fingers with your cheek sending an electric shock down your spine.

Before you could realize what was happening, he leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips against yours. The moment he did, it was as if fireworks went off around you. Though taken aback for a moment, you soon melted into the kiss, hands running up his firm chest until you stopped to grab at his jacket to pull him down with you. Laying on the grass, you felt tickles from the green blades surrounding you but that only added to the intensity of Sam’s touch. The way he ran a hand down your side, stopping at your hip to pull you closer. The way his kiss turned more passionate and fervent, something you wouldn’t have expected from such a sweet soul but that was nonetheless an incredibly nice surprise.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you opened your eyes to a wondrous sight; Sam’s gorgeous features highlighted by an unusually starry sky above him, the trees surrounding you forming a canopy of sorts that reminded you of fairy tales. He smiled down at you, so close you could feel his warm breath on your skin, setting it ablaze despite the cold breeze that was beginning to pass through.

“We should probably get back inside,” Sam said, noticing your shivering body before you did.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. Sam leaned down to peck your lips once more before standing up and offering a hand to pull you up. You both walked back to the bunker, hands clasped together as you did. He slowed his strides to match your much shorter ones, causing you to giggle; a reaction that warmed Sam’s heart in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Stopping at the door, Sam turned to you and leaned down to kiss you once more before you broke the news of your newfound relationship to the rest of the bunker residents. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and smiled, ready to take the next steps to your new life by his side.

Pond Tags

@whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @frenchybell @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @idreamofhazel @wevegotworktodo @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @chelsea-winchester @becs-bunker @ageekchiclife @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @maraisabellegrey-blog @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @clueless-gold @winchester-family-business @there-must-be-a-lock @just-another-winchester @emoryhemsworth @serenity-sam @cas-backwards-tie @sierra-grace1227 @firefly-in-darkness @emilyshurley @deanwanddamons ns @idreamofplaid

#sam winchester x reader #sam x y/n #sam x you #sam x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fluff #ellewritesfix05

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heyyy-hey-babyyy · 5 years ago

Text

They’re All Wax. Everyone.

Summary: Dean and Y/N investigate the disappearance of some college kids in the small town of Ambrose, only for Y/N to be captured and hurt. Dean looks for her and finds unimaginable horrors.

Pairing: Dean X reader

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, horror movie scenes

House of Wax (2005) Fusion with Supernatural

1938 words.

Notes: Please note that I changed the plot a bit, because some of it would not make sense if the main character was Dean Winchester. Just saying…Also this isn’t the whole movie.

Do you want a part II? Let me know!

Spoilers for House of Wax (2005) below

Dean was just getting into town as the sun was making its descent. The little town was surrounded by rough terrain and flooded gullies, forcing Dean to park the Impala and walk his way toward town, noting that your Dodge Charger was also parked near the faded ‘Welcome’ sign, the lettering cracked and nonexistent.

You hadn’t been answering your phone and Dean began to get worried, as you had split up to investigate the disappearance of some people in town. A couple of college kids were heading up toward the small town of Ambrose, Louisiana, where people were mysteriously vanishing and you figured you'd try to warn them before something bad happened. You were better with people than Dean and it was decided that you would traverse into town and interview the residents about the disappearances. It was rumored that these kids were camping a few miles south of town, so Dean headed in that direction, where he ran into a beat-up pickup truck parked near a pile of rotted animal corpses, the smell overpowering his senses.

Dean, of course, got stuck talking to the hick in the shitty pickup truck who apparently only chucked dead animal carcasses from the side of the road, and dribbled chew down his face. The hick had nothing interesting to say and when Dean left the guy to his dirty work, he realized he hadn’t heard from you in a few hours.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered glancing down at his phone and seeing no missed calls or texts, before clicking on your name and listening to the phone ring. The call was quickly forwarded to your answering machine, your bright voice instructing the caller to call Dean or “Sammy.” He huffed out a sigh and hurried back to the car, slamming the door and speeding toward the town.

______________________

Dean required hourly check-ins when he was working a case with you without Sam, and you not following his rule made him anxious. He knew he was being overbearing, but he was really just being cautious. You were a good hunter, great even, but you weren’t his brother and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got hurt while you were with him. Truth was, he felt more responsible for you than you knew, and the fact that he wasn’t with you right now was driving him crazy.

He shook the thoughts roughly from his mind and kept walking, his boot thuds echoing off of the vacant store fronts. None of the stores had lights on and there was one lone streetlight shining brightly onto the wet pavement. The entire scene made Dean uneasy and he walked a little faster toward the only store that looked open.

The service station at least had its lights on, and the sign advertised gas for a $1.19, which was comical, and showed the true colors of the ancient town. As Dean kept approaching the station, he began to hear footsteps behind him, trying their best to stay quiet. He gripped his gun tightly and spun around pointing the barrel right between the eyes of the guy who was sneaking up on him.

“Woah, woah woah!” He yelled raising his hands, clearly not expecting Dean to be carrying a weapon. The guy was dressed modernly in a hoodie and loose fitted jeans and stood out against the ancient store fronts.

“Hey man,” the guy continued raising his hands a little higher. “I’m just looking for my sister and her boyfriend.” Dean raised his eyebrows, but kept his gun raised, pointing instead at the guy’s chest.

“And?” Dean asked gruffly, making sure the kid knew he wasn’t about to back down without some more information.

“And my name’s Nick. My sister Carley and her boyfriend Wade came up here a couple hours ago and I haven’t been able to reach them on their cells.” Dean nodded at him once, sticking his gun back into his belt, recognizing the names from the information he knew already.

“Dean.” He stated nodding over his shoulder so Nick would follow. “I had a friend come up here a few hours ago as well, and I haven’t heard from her.” The two continued to walk toward the service station, when a guy dressed all in black, a cap hanging low over his eyes, walked out of the front entrance and locked the door behind him.

“Hey!” Dean called, glancing at Nick and approaching the guy slowly. The guy turned, shocked, before quickly turning his face into a smirk.

“We’re looking for some people. A young couple and a woman. You seen ‘em around?” The guy turned to walk away stating, “I don’t think I’ve seen ‘em.”

“Well, you don’t even know who they are or what they look like.” Dean wasn’t taking that for an answer, and he walked to stand in the guy’s way when Nick spoke up.

“This is the only gas station in town, right?”

The guy stopped briefly, heading to the open garage door. “That’s right.” He closed the door with a click, leaning on it and putting his hand on his hip, glancing up the street.

Dean sighed, annoyed. “Look man, they were here somewhere. Why don’t you just help us out and make this easy.” Dean was getting agitated by the way the guy was acting and didn’t trust him or his dingy hat as far as he could throw them.

“Like I said. I haven’t seen ‘em. Sorry. Can’t help ya.” The guy lumbered over to us staring down Nick as he walked, before turning around sharply to tie his shoe.

He pointed up the road. “You know what. My brother Vincent was down here a bit ago. He might’ve seen ‘em. He’ll be up at the house.” Dean turned to look where he was pointing, up the dark street. When he turned back around the guy was upright again looking smug.

“Wanna head up to the house?”

"Dean weighed his options before speaking, but Nick beat him to it. “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, looking at Nick, before stating gruffly, “lead the way.”

__________________________

You groaned, picking your head up slowly from the ground, the world quickly coming into focus making your head spin. You gripped it with one hand and pushed yourself to a sitting position with the other, hissing when your weight pressed down on your wrist, which was clearly sprained.

You hadn’t been in the town for more than a few minutes when something heavy hit you in the back of the head and you blacked out falling face first into the dirt.

You moved to open your mouth to take a deep breath and felt your lips resist. It felt like they had been glued shut and moving your finger to try to wrench your mouth open caused your body to shoot with pain. You groaned again and looked around, suddenly meeting the eye of a young girl climbing on top of a chair toward a closed grate in the ceiling.

She looked at you, eyes wide, and you nodded your head encouragingly, standing on wobbly legs, your head pounding. She reached as far as she could, sticking a finger through one of the holes waving at what you realized were muffled voices from outside.

You approached her slowly, when suddenly she wrenched her hand back toward her, blood spurting out wildly from a missing finger on her left hand. Her screams were muffled from her trapped lips, and you rushed toward her helping her stop the bleeding with one hand, while pulling your lips apart roughly with the other, feeling them split and the blood trickle down your lips. You finished tearing your mouth open when you heard a familiar gruff voice.

“Dean!” You screamed as loud as your lungs would allow. “I’m down here!”

_______________________________

Dean spun around wildly, hearing his name called from below. He reached into the back of his pants for his gun but when he turned back the guy had disappeared down the dark street. Dean swore under his breath focusing on the task at hand and headed toward the unlocked garage door, wrenching it open loudly. The wooden door to the room downstairs was locked, but Dean kicked it in easily, seeing Y/N covered in blood holding a young woman as she sobbed quietly. Both women’s faces were bleeding, and Dean rushed forward grabbing Y/N by the shoulders looking into her exploded pupils.

“Are you okay?” He asked gruffly, looking her over. She nodded, gasping quietly, and pointed at the young girl, who Nick was checking over. Dean watched them rip her lips open and he winced seeing them tear to match Y/N’s. Looking around the room quickly, it looked like the guy had super glued their mouths shut before heading upstairs. Dean grabbed Y/N’s hand glancing at her and pulled her up the stairs, Nick and Carley following slowly, Nick bearing much of Carley’s weight.

“The Impala is parked next to your car, let’s get back over there quickly.” Dean stated, hating the idea of leaving that man alive, but recognizing the tell-tale signs of blood loss, as Carley wrapped her missing finger in the torn bottom of the shirt she was wearing. Y/N was staring blankly forward, clearly concussed, and was having trouble standing on her own. Dean inched his arm over her shoulders and held her to him protectively.

“What about the other kids?” Y/N asked weakly, trying not to move her mouth much.

“What about Wade?” Carley suddenly yelled. “What if he turns him to wax?!”

Dean stopped in his tracks looking back at Carley, his arm still gripping around Y/N’s shoulders tightly.

“What do you mean wax?” He asked, furrowing his brow.

“You don’t get it!” She shouted back. “They’re all wax! Everyone.”

She turned roughly and stared out the window.

“No. Wait.” Suddenly she was out the door and down the street, Dean, Y/N, and Nick following her close.

“There was a woman in here,” she stated quietly, checking left and right down the street, before running up to the faded picket fence in front of the dilapidated house. Dean gripped Y/N’s shoulders as she approached, her legs still wobbly from not being used. We approached the picket fence and Nick jumped over it to get close to the curtained windows peering in, the buzz of a TV the only sound heard.

“She pulled back the curtain,” Carley stated, standing back with Dean and you. Nick looked in closely, jumping back startled when a woman suddenly pulled back the curtain. She had white hair pulled up into curlers and her dead eyes stared unseeing out into the distance. Even from this far back Dean could tell the woman wasn’t alive from the unnatural tinge of her skin.

“The whole town is rigged.” Carley said hopelessly.

“That’s impossible.” Nick stated, staring at the woman as she exited view slowly, the curtain falling back into place, dust whispering against the glass. Minutes later, the woman appeared again, gears grinding harshly on the mechanism that pushed her toward the window.

Nick peeked into the house again. “You’re saying that’s a real person…underneath?”

“Yes,” Carley responded anxiously. “At the church they were all like that. 20 people at least.”

Y/N suddenly wobbled under her own weight, her knees giving out. Dean gripped her shoulders harder, yanking her to a standing position.

“Guys,” He started, glancing at Nick and Carley. “We need to get out of here.” Y/N’s eyes started to droop, and Dean looked at her quickly.

“Now.”

Read Part II Here

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ksfd89 · 5 years ago

Text

Riding in Style

Oneshot set in S5 where Lorelai impulsively buys a Vespa! A little Literaiti thrown in too! Enjoy!

"What is that?"

Rory stares at her mother's porch in disbelief. There, propped up against the steps, sits a bright turquoise motorcycle and Lorelai crows, "It's a Vespa!"

"I can see that."

"I wanted it in Hello Kitty but they only had this colour. Thoughts?"

"Well, my first my thought is why," Rory says honestly and rolls her eyes as Lorelai explains, "Roman Holiday was on and I thought it looked cool."

"So you bought a motorcycle."

"A Vespa."

"Excuse me, you bought a Vespa because it looked cool?"

"Yes," Lorelai says, protectively putting a hand on it. "And it is cool, isn't it?"

"Where'd you even buy it?"

"Oh, online somewhere," Lorelai says carelessly. "You can get anything there."

"Of course. Can you even ride it?"

"I rode it around the lot I picked it up from."

"And how did that go?"

"Wobbly," Lorelai admits. "But I can drive, and I can ride a bike, and that's kind of the same, right?"

"Um, sure," Rory says but smiles as her mother says pleadingly, "Isn't it pretty?"

"It's very pretty," Rory allows, going over to take a closer look. "I think turquoise is a more classic colour anyway."

"Very possibly," Lorelai beams. "I need to name it - any contenders?"

"Audrey?"

"Meh, too obvious."

Rory nods, going around it and placing a hand on the seat. She's usually used to unusual sights when coming home from Yale (her mother gardening is the first that comes to mind) but Lorelai has outdone herself with this. It does look cool, Rory has to admit.

"What did Luke say when you showed it to him?"

Lorelai coughs, looking away and groans as Rory exclaims, "Mom!"

"I thought I'd show him in person...maybe later today, or tomorrow is good too, if I put it in the garage..."

"Mom, don't you think he'll want a clue if someone tells him his girlfriend got in a Vespa accident?"

"Who says there'll be an accident?"

"Luke will, that's for sure."

"And that's why I haven't told him yet - he's filled with doom and gloom about these things," Lorelai says defensively. Sighing, she looks at her daughter and says, "I guess I'll tell him now - you want to take it into town with me?"

"As long as take doesn't mean ride," Rory says suspiciously, groaning as Lorelai says, "Hey, where's your sense of adventure?"

"It's busy with my sense of keeping all my limbs intact!"

"Fine, fine. Coffee before we get coffee?"

"You read my mind," Rory says, following Lorelai into the house.

They walk into the square with the Vespa between them, causing a lot of excitement and admonishment from Taylor, who shouts out road safety horror stories all the way to Luke's.

"You know Taylor won't let you ride it."

"We're ignoring him," Lorelai says cheerfully. "Check us out - the Gilmore girls and their Vespa!"

Rory has to admit it's kind of fun. Her bookbag is swinging against her leg and Rory has to shake herself from a fantasy of riding it to school and back. It's a fun picture, if completely ridiculous, and it breaks as Luke marches out of the diner and barks, "What the hell is that thing?"

"My new Vespa," Lorelai says sweetly. "I bought it online."

"It could be a total piece of junk!"

"Stop, you'll hurt its feelings!"

"Lorelai, you can't ride a Vespa!"

"I can learn!"

"It might not be safe!"

"I'll get Gypsy to check it out!"

"I'll check it out right now," Gypsy says wistfully, making Lorelai and Rory jump. "I got my stuff ready the minute I saw you two walk it down the street!"

"All yours," Lorelai says, reaching into her bag. "Here's the helmet it came with and there's another under the seat."

"Great. Can I get a spin on it sometime?"

"Sure, as long as it makes Taylor mad. What do you think, Luke? If Gypsy checks it's safe, can we make Taylor mad with it?"

A look of frustration passes Luke's face and Rory suppresses a giggle. Making Taylor angry is one of Luke's greatest joys in life.

"If Gypsy says it's safe and if you get some lessons, then I guess it's not too dangerous."

"You can bring me coffee on it!"

"What?! No way am I getting on that thing!"

"We can ride it together!"

"I have no interest in dying, thank you!"

"It won't be dangerous!"

"I was talking of dying from humiliation!"

As they argue back and forth Rory wanders over to the counter to get a slice of pie. She's just put the lid back on the plate when she almost drops it; Jess comes down from the stairs behind the counter and stops, looking as stunned as Rory feels.

"Hi."

"Okay, hi," Rory says, feeling a severe sense of déjà vu. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the day...was passing through and thought I'd see Luke."

"Oh."

There's a long, awkward pause, broken by Rory saying, "My mom bought a Vespa."

Jess blinks, almost smiles and says, "Why?"

"I don't know," Rory admits. A small smile creeps across her lips but she can't let herself relax. She's too caught up in remembering their last meeting, where she told Jess to leave. It seems Jess feels the same as he coughs and says, "I'll just get some coffee and head back up...I won't come back down."

"It's okay," Rory says, but Jess is already halfway there and doesn't stop, and Rory doesn't try to make him. She opens her bookbag to study and takes a bite of pie, but fails to absorb a single word.

Luke awkwardly mentions about Jess when he and Lorelai come back in and is mortified when Rory informs him she's already seen him. Rory pretends it doesn't matter, deliberately taking a large bite of pie, and Lorelai loudly starts talking about Vespas to try and diffuse the tension, to no avail. They stay at Luke's until Gypsy gives them the all-clear on the Vespa, but by then Lorelai has to go to work and says she'll leave it at Luke's for the night.

"I was so excited to ride it there too," she says gloomily, pouting when Luke points out it wouldn't have handled the bumpy road too well. She and Rory walk back together, picking out a movie for later, and Lorelai heads out to the Dragonfly. Rory eats some pizza and tries studying some more, but she can't focus. As Rory searches fruitlessly for a textbook she realises she left it at Luke's and, biting her lip, decides to brave getting it. She swore to get some studying done tonight.

Rory knows where the spare key is but in the end it doesn't matter. Jess is sitting at the counter, eating the last of the pie, and turns as Rory hesitantly opens the door.

"Hi. Sorry. I left my book..."

Jess lifts it up and Rory nods. "That's it. Thanks."

She takes it from him, her thumb brushing his, and blushes. They look at each other for a moment, hesitate, and at the same time say, "I'm -"

"Never mind," Rory says, shaking her head, and Jess looks at her, eyes sad. "Rory..."

"It's okay."

"None of it's okay."

Rory gives him a kind of shrug. What happened between them feels too much for a simple apology but she finds herself saying again, "It was a long time ago."

"Not really."

"Well, it feels like it," Rory says honestly. That night Jess asked her to go with him feels almost like another lifetime and yet, in the same moment, seeing him doesn't seem strange. It's as though Jess was always there. Rory doesn't voice the last part.

"It feels a while ago for me too," Jess admits. "I'd do it all differently - Rory, I -"

"We don't have to talk about it," Rory says quietly. Jess nods, and it's her cue to leave, but Rory simply stands there with him, hugging the book to her chest. The silence stretches between them until Jess asks, "Lorelai get you on the Vespa yet?"

"Not yet," Rory laughs, relieved. "She'll be trying tomorrow though, I'm positive."

"It sounds cool."

"Do you want to see it?" The words are out of Rory's mouth before she knew she was saying them. Jess stares at her, smiles and says, "Really?"

"Well, it's just sitting outside. No harm in taking a look."

It's totally normal to show Jess the Vespa, Rory tells herself. It's something friends would do. They can be friends, right? It's all Rory feels good with these days anyway, after the whole disaster with Dean. They open the door and see the Vespa standing outside, looking cheerful next to all the cars.

"Very cool," Jess says approvingly. "You going to ride it?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't bet a lot of money on that."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Jess, I've watched those road accident videos Kirk shows at the movie theater! Plus, it'll be driven by my mother, who gets distracted by anything shiny."

"Lorelai can drive. So can you."

"I am not riding it by myself," Rory says stoutly, her fantasy from taking it to Yale rapidly diminishing.

"But you'll ride it with Lorelai, right? Once she learns how?"

"I think she might be riding it solo."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

Rory shrugs and teases, "Would you ride it?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Jess - I was just joking. You can't ride a Vespa!"

"I can ride a motorcycle. If you want, you can ride it with me."

Rory stares at him, unsure what to think, and he smiles at her.

"I mean it - I'll take you for a ride on it, if you want. But if you don't want to we can just forget it..."

"Ride it where?"

"Hadn't thought where," Jess says slowly, checking to see if Rory's kidding. "Around the square?"

"Fine, you're on. I'll go get the keys."

Jess watches as Rory goes back into the diner, emerging with them glinting in her hand and laughs.

"You sure you don't want to drive?"

"One hundred percent sure."

"Hand them over, Gilmore."

Rory passes them to Jess who takes them, hesitates and says, "How much will Lorelai kill me if she finds out about this?"

"We'll be fast!"

"That's not exactly an answer."

Jess fastens one helmet under his chin, passing the spare to Rory and climbs on, looking over to where Rory is waiting.

"Ready?"

"Yes," Rory says decisively. This is just to help her nerves, she tells herself, and climbs behind Jess. He looks at her, about to put the key in the ignition and says, "You need to hold onto me."

"What? Oh, right," Rory says, blushing. She hadn't thought about that, she berates herself and almost thinks of calling it off, but shakes herself. This is fine - it's going to be fun - and she firmly puts her arms around Jess's back. "I'm ready."

"Let's go," Jess says, powering up the engine and kicking into the road. Rory's yelp turns into a silent gasp, her grasp tight as they curve through the streets. Jess isn't going fast but Rory's heart is barely stopping, the wind is rushing through her helmet and hair and she can barely reply as Jess calls, "You good back there? Rory?"

"I'm okay!" Rory manages to call back. "I'm okay!"

That's a matter of opinion, Rory amends silently. Her initial panic has disappeared to a kind of rush, the same rush Rory felt when Jess drove her car to get icecream in cones, all those years ago. Rory tries not to think about how that ended, but Jess is steering smoothly, and her fear is more focused on herself, the way her body is thrumming against his. Suddenly, Rory isn't so sure they can be friends after all. Her feelings for him aren't as dormant as she thought. All of her senses seem magnified, more, and all Rory can do is hold onto Jess. She's not sure what it means. She holds onto him, watching the world whirl by, and then suddenly it's over. Jess is slowing down, parking the Vespa back by the diner and climbing off. He holds out a hand which Rory awkwardly takes, helping her off, and grins as he takes off his helmet.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For this," Jess says simply. "All of it - thank you."

"You're welcome," Rory says politely. She smiles, unsure of what else to say, and thinks of mentioning what she felt before, but doesn't know how. It seems too weird. Instead, Rory focuses on taking off her own helmet and the keys from Jess.

"I'm leaving early," Jess tells her. "Guess I should say goodbye..."

"Yes. Okay. Bye."

They look at each other, start to laugh and Rory feels instantly relieved. Maybe it's okay after all.

"Good seeing you," Jess says and Rory says sincerely, "And you too. I'm happy we ran into each other."

"I imagine people will think they hallucinated if they saw us," Jess says, nodding at the Vespa, "but I'll be a few states away if they argue. Besides, I'm just a hoodlum."

"No," Rory says. She laughs but is serious as she says, "You're not a hoodlum, Jess."

"Maybe," Jess says, giving her a crooked grin. "Goodnight, Rory."

"Goodnight, Jess."

Rory walks slowly home, dazed. It already seems like a kind of dream.

The next morning, Lorelai insists on riding the Vespa and drags Rory to the diner before she's even finished her waffle.

"There's waffles at Luke's," she says mercilessly. "And neither of you are going to stop me from taking it for a spin!"

Once at the diner, Luke argues back and forth until agreeing that it's probably fine to ride the Vespa down the street.

"I rode it when I was sixteen," Lorelai insists, ignoring Rory as she says, "You also got pregnant with me."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on offspring - want to brave it with me?"

"You know, I do," Rory says and Lorelai looks at her in surprise.

"Seriously?"

"It's just down the street."

"Didn't think I could wear you down that quickly!" Lorelai says happily. "Was it the Roman Holiday reference?"

They don their helmets, climb on, and Rory puts her arms around her mother's back as the townspeople gather and cheer. Lorelai turns on the engine, drives slowly into the road and then down the street, finding a little speed.

"Isn't this the best?" Lorelai shouts and Rory shouts back, "The Gilmore girls ride in style!"

Carefully, Lorelai turns the Vespa and drives back up to the diner where, keeping her promise, she turns off the engine and hops off, to much applause. Rory gets off as well, laughing, and gives her mother a hug.

"See? I told you I could do it," Lorelai says, before stumbling into Luke's arms.

"Lessons," he says and Lorelai sighs, nodding.

"Real lessons, I swear. But I've got to name it something cool first!"

Rory takes off her helmet, shaking out her hair and as she looks up sees Jess in the window, smiling at her. She smiles back, lifting her hand in greeting, and he waves before silently moving out of sight.

"What?" Lorelai asks and Rory shakes her head, laughing.

"Nothing. This calls for coffee, don't you think?"

"Daughter, everything calls for coffee!"

#Gilmore Girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #jess mariano #literati #mine

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lovedsammy · 5 years ago

Text

all I want (for Christmas); [commission for petrichoravellichor]

This was commissioned by @petrichoravellichor, who wanted a fluffy holiday fic (Christmas shopping, decorating, etc) with Sam & Jack as the primary focus with optional Sam, Cas & Jack or Sastiel w/ Jack. :) So there’s slight Sastiel, but not explicitly romantic until the end. No smut, though.

Also, for the timeline: I set this to be just after 14x08 but before 14x09.

It’d started off as a relatively quiet Saturday.

They hadn’t had any luck with finding any cases recently, and Sam was pretty grateful for that. They needed some down time, to settle in and hibernate like bunch of hermits, as Dean had said. They’d just gotten Jack back not too long ago, after all, and the holidays were fast approaching. And with the holidays came the change of the weather. Opening the front door that morning after he’d gotten dressed to go for a run, Sam had been stunned to see the first active snowfall of the year. There was barely a few inches on the ground, but it had been enough for Team Free Will to decide that going out likely wasn’t going to happen. So they were just going to hang in, drink hot chocolate, and binge-watch holiday movies. Or, at least, that was the plan, until Jack, ever so restless, came bounding into the library, paper and pen in hand.

“We should go Christmas shopping,” He declares.

Sam, Dean and Cas all look up from their various activities — Sam researching away on his laptop, Dean in the middle of eating his breakfast, and Cas reading some type of Enochian text that seemed more out of boredom than any pure interest.

“Christmas shopping,” Dean deadpans.

Jack, to his credit, is not the least bit put out by Dean’s nonchalance. “Yeah! It’s already the middle of December and we barely have any decorations up. And we haven’t even exchanged ideas for presents, either. So I wrote mine down, and I need you guys to tell me yours.”

Sam cuts Dean off when his brother opens his mouth to retort. “Yeah, cool, Jack. We can do that. Let me see your list.” Sam shuts his laptop and eases over to Jack, reading the list over the kid’s shoulder. To his surprise, it was a relatively short list, but at least it contained more than Nougat this year. Last year, that was all the kid really wanted, apart from the Star Wars funko pop collection.

“Well, you know what? You kids can go do all the shopping you want, I’m staying here.” Dean snorts. “Ain’t no way in Hell I’m driving out in all this muck. As for the gifts, get us whatever you want, Jack, it’s up to you.”

Sam wants to quip that Dean drives out in the snow more than he does, but resists. Jack turns soft eyes onto Sam, practically pleading, and the hunter nods his assent. He wasn’t opposed to it, plus it needed to get done sooner or later, anyway. The Winchesters were always late with Christmas, if they chose to celebrate at all. With Jack and their Mom here now, they had no reason not to celebrate.

“All right, go grab your stuff. Let’s go shopping.”

“Yes!” Jack cheers, already running back to his room to grab his coat. Sam hides a smile behind his fringe. The kid was way too cute sometimes, especially now that he was human.

“Cas, you going or you staying?” Dean asks gruffly, already chomping back down on his bacon.

Castiel opens his mouth and closes it again for several seconds, looking comically in Sam’s opinion, like a fish out of water. It creates a flutter in the younger Winchester’s stomach. “I don’t know if I…” He trails off when Jack comes sprinting back into the room, already donning his winter coat, scarf, and gloves, and looking every bit like a kid at Christmas, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’ll stay here,” The angel decides. “I don’t have much experience with the selection of gifts.”

Sam frowns at him. Wouldn’t it be good for Cas to come with, to participate in the festivities with his son too? Surely Jack would want that. But to his surprise, Jack shrugs.

“Oh, that’s okay, Cas. I’ve got an idea of what to get you anyway, and I don’t want you to see it.” The boy smiles brightly at Sam and reaches for his coat sleeve, tugging a little. Sam chuckles to himself and nods at his brother and Cas.

“All right, we’re going. See you in a bit.”

Getting out to the local Walmart takes them a bit longer than expected, but otherwise, hadn’t been too bad of a drive, in all honesty. Sam had wrestled with the idea of where to shop, and finally decided on Walmart since it was closest to the bunker, and it had almost everything. Upon entering, they see that it’s not really crowded, so shopping would be pretty easy without the massive holiday crowds. Jack lights up when he spots the large Christmas tree in the center of the store, adorned in tinsel and lights and ornaments.

“We should get a tree like that! It’d look amazing in the bunker. Oh! And this!” Jack bounces over to the outdoor reindeer sleigh set, climbing up into the seat. Sam can’t help but smile as he watches him. Jack really was like a two year old in so many ways, despite physically being eighteen or nineteen. His innocence, how he perceived the world…. Sam honestly wishes that Jack could have it forever. “What do you think, Sam?”

The memory of the boy lying so ill in bed, asleep in death, comes unbidden to mind and Sam shakes it off. Jack almost hadn’t been here to enjoy this, the thrill of the holiday spirit. He clears his throat.

“Might be a little hard to get that into the trunk, Jack,” Sam easily lets him down, choosing not to tell him that they didn’t have a porch to put it on anyway. “But we can get the tree, okay? What do you say we get the gifts and then grab the stuff for decorating?”

Jack nods easily, jumping back down. “Okay. What kind of stuff does Dean like?”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Dean’s easy. It’s Cas that’s hard to shop for.”

“Oh. He doesn’t like Christmas?”

“I don’t think it’s that,”’ Sam says. “It’s more that he feels he doesn’t need to do the Christmas thing because he’s not human. It took Dean and me years to convince him to even sit down and watch Christmas movies with us. I think he does it more for our sake than any real investment. And now for you, of course.”

Jack absorbs this. “I see. What about Dean? He doesn’t seem like he likes Christmas, either.”

“Dean’s… a bit of a sourpuss at times,” Sam remarks. “Believe me, he never used to be. He’s actually the one that got me to celebrate Christmas again.”

“Why’d you stop?”

The question is innocent enough, but it still makes Sam’s mouth go a little bit dry. He tries to explain in the gentlest voice possible. “Dean and I, we had a lot of lonely years, Jack. Our father was gone a lot on Christmas, and Mom was... well, you know. But we still celebrated as much as we could as kids, even if we didn’t get a ton of gifts under the tree or candy in our stockings. But when Dean… after he sold his soul for me, I couldn’t face the idea of a Christmas without him, and so I just… stopped.”

He trails off, and glances at Jack, to see the boy looking sorrowfully at him.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“It’s okay,” Sam reassures him quickly. “That was a long time ago. We can do Christmas now, and a lot of that reason is because of you, Jack. If you weren’t here, we - I - might not care so much about it. I want you to experience this, all of it, in the ways that I couldn’t.”

Sam’s not used to being so open like this, but he swallows down the embarrassment. This was Jack. His… well, his son. It took him a long time to admit that to himself, that Jack had become that for him -- for him and Cas, and Dean to an extent -- and to acknowledge the depths of the importance the boy held. He smiles, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Come on.”

They decide on a new skillet set for Dean, whose cooking has managed to get even better, much to Sam’s utter shock. Dean had been proficient at cooking for years, but in recent months, he’s refined his palette and skills to boot. Sam would dare say that the meals he gets from Dean are sometimes miles better than diner food from a few of the places that they frequent. Not that he’d ever tell Dean that. For Cas, it took them a little longer to find something, but Jack picked out a cat-decorated black throw blanket that the angel might put to use. Ever since Cas had started taking up residence in Sam’s room when they would watch Netflix together, Sam had joked that Cas should get his own blanket and pillow. Cas had said it wasn’t necessary, but clearly, even Jack felt that the angel needed one. Sam had to agree. He’d lost count of how many times Cas would hog the covers.

For Mom, Sam remembered her saying that she wanted a new duvet set for her room in the bunker if she was going to make it more ‘her.’ Unlike her boys, she disliked some of the bunker’s interior and was trying to make it more ‘homey,’ in a sense, even if she lived there only part-time. So he’d settled on something more neutral-colored, since Mary wasn’t a huge fan of bright, feminine colors. She liked to have lighter colors that anything could match with.

Going past the entertainment section, Sam stops, considering. There were a couple of things that he could cross off of Jack’s list right now, but it would be difficult to do that while he was here. He really wished that Cas had come with them now. “Hey, Jack?” He calls over to the boy, who is making his way through the DVD selection. “Do you mind waiting here for a few minutes? There’s something I want to get you.”

Jack smiles. “Okay, I’ll wait here.”

“Be careful,” Sam says, just out of habit, and feels like it’s a little much; of course his dad tendencies had to kick in when he was leaving Jack alone in a department store, of all places. Sam hurries back toward the home-ware section, and looks for the Star Wars blanket as well as the photo album. The blanket, Sam hadn’t been shocked to see on the list. Jack was a huge fan of Star Wars, even the newer stuff. But the album, and the asterisk written beside it, signaling its importance, along with the comment saying “For the rest of my life with my dads” had… well, it’d made Sam emotional.

They already had some pictures of Jack with and without them that would be good in the album. He picks out one that has the option for handwritten notes, and goes to the self-checkout to pay for the items, getting them bagged up before he heads back to find Jack.

He finds Jack exactly where he left him, talking to a little girl.

“I love Elsa too! Her powers are extraordinary, aren’t they?”

Ah, Frozen.

“Yeah, but ‘cause of that, people treat her bad,” The girl says, somewhat sadly, picking at the sleeve of her dress. “Just ‘cause she’s different. I think having powers is so cool.”

“Me, too,” Jack grins. The girl giggles back at him.

“Zoey!”

A woman, the girl’s mother, if Sam had to guess by the near-identical appearance, comes running over to them, sighing in relief when she spots her daughter. She grabs her by her shoulders. “Don’t worry me like that. You know how your father gets when you don’t listen to him.”

“Sorry, Ma’am,” Jack says at once, straightening up with a friendly smile. “I saw her by herself and wanted to keep her company.”

“Oh, thank you,” The woman says gratefully. “That’s very kind of you.”

Zoey holds up her Frozen DVD. “Look, Mommy. Jack helped me find it.”

“That’s great, sweetie.”

Zoey’s mom nods at Jack. “Thank you for helping her. Happy Holidays to you and your dad,” She says, smiling over at Sam, as she takes Zoey’s hand and the pair turn away.

“Bye bye, Jack,” The little girl waves, and Jack waves back to her. Sam comes up to his side, proud. God, Jack was a sweet kid. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that he was supposed to be Lucifer’s son. He was the furthest thing from him.

They head to go pay for the rest of their items, and Sam checks his watch absently while the cashier is ringing them up, and is shocked at the time. They’d been in here for close to two hours now. Once everything is bagged and in the cart, they start to proceed out the exit.

“All right. Come on, let’s get home.”

The first thing that Sam does, when he and Jack return back outside to find the Impala’s hood covered with snow, is think that Dean wasn’t going to be happy when they finally got back home. The second is to kick himself for not paying better attention to the weather forecast in the first place. The drive here hadn’t been bad, but that was a very different story now.

The news hadn’t mentioned anything about more snow accumulation during the afternoon hours. And to make matters worse, the visibility was low, and the snow was still falling in thick flakes. The roads now would be slick and messy, a far cry from a few hours ago. It would be awhile before they got home. He turns to Jack, who, despite the turn of the weather, still doesn’t look too bothered by it, his arms full of large shopping bags. So Sam plays it cool, guiding Jack back toward the Impala.

While it was true that he had less experience driving in accumulate weather than his brother did, Sam had driven in his fair share of snow. And considering that they had spent most of their life on the road and thus were better acquainted with the many changes of Mother Nature than most people, Sam thinks that maybe he can handle it. They’d just take it slow on the roads and take their time getting back to avoid any spin outs. Not that the Impala was notorious for that -- it was a hell of a car, despite how old she was getting. But there was always the chance. It’s only getting into the car and turning the key to start her up that Sam thinks it might be worse than he thought.

There was a deep rumble coming from the engine, but the car wasn’t starting. He tries several times, and comes up empty. “Uhh… Jack, we might, uh… we might be stuck here for a while.”

“Oh?” Jack asks, leaning up in his seat, furrowing his brows. “Is the car stuck or something?”

“It’s not starting, not even the heat, or --” Sam begins explaining, and backpedals when he sees the worry starting to form in the boy’s features. “Listen, I’ll, uh… I’ll try it again in a minute, okay? Maybe give it a few to get started.”

The car is cold, and Sam can tell that the temperatures outside were dropping with how much more the snow was beginning to stick. He curses under his breath, and attempts to start the car again. Still nothing. The last thing that Sam wants to do is to call Dean or Cas and have them come get them, but that might be the only option here, and if it was, he was going to get an earful from his brother. He could always call a tow truck to get them home, but Dean would know about that, too, and Sam wasn’t prepared to give his brother the satisfaction of being right for choosing not to go out in this.

So he and Jack sit and wait.

Maybe it would start soon.

When after fifteen minutes he has no success, and he begins to hear Jack’s teeth chattering, he knows that the gig is up and sighs. Being out here too long wasn’t an option. The last thing he needed was for Jack to get sick… again. So Sam makes the regretful decision to call Cas. The angel would take this better than Dean would, at any rate.

“Sam?” Cas answers after the second ring. “You’ve been gone a long while, is everything all right?”

“Not exactly,” Sam says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Cas, we’re… kinda stuck in the Walmart parking lot. The car won’t start.”

Sam hears the sound of Dean’s voice talking to Cas, the angel relaying the situation, and Dean’s deep exclamation of curses that make Sam cringe.

“Dammit! What the hell did I tell him?” Dean’s saying, and Sam can picture him throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Sam, I’m on my way,” Cas replies, already reaching for his car keys. “I’ll try and get there as fast as I can, but with this weather, I can’t say how long it will be. Thirty minutes, maybe. Do the two of you have heat?”

“No, we don’t.” Sam says, starting to develop a chill, too.

“Maybe Dean was right,” Jack intones, looking crestfallen. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come out.”

Sam reaches over to pat the kid’s shoulder. No way in Hell was he going to let Jack feel bad about this. “Not your fault, Jack,” Sam says. “I should’ve paid better attention to the weather.”

“You wanted to make him happy, Sam,” Cas chimes in gently over the phone, and Sam can’t deny it, or mistake the way Cas’s words make his heart swell. “You did. This is just a setback. Hang on, I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up with a click.

“Cas is on his way,” Sam tells Jack. “He’ll be here soon. Here,” He reaches into the glove box and pulls out a couple of heating packs, pressing one to Jack’s face. “This’ll keep you a little warm until we get home.”

It feels like a long time, but twenty minutes later, Cas is there, and Sam almost laughs when the car door opens and the angel pokes his head in.

There are countless snowflakes stuck in his hair.

“We’ll have to come back for the Impala,” Cas says, and it comes out so gravely that you’d think someone had died. “Dean isn’t at all happy about it, but he’ll get over it. I told him I’ll come back out tonight to get it. Come on. You’re both freezing.”

He removes his trenchcoat and puts it around Jack, and then places a hand to Sam’s stubbled cheek, emitting some heat to him with his grace. Cas’s touch lingers, and Sam wants to make a comment about body heat and how there were other ways to make some, but thinks better of it with Jack standing right there. This thing with him and Cas was still relatively new, and he didn’t need to freak the kid out. He’d caught them kissing on two occasions already.

Cas, however, leans over to whisper in his ear. “Just to warn you, Sam, Dean is awaiting you in your room. I believe his exact words were ‘I’m going to kick his ass for making Baby wait out there on her own all night.’ I very explicitly told him that your ass was in no danger. Not from him, anyway.”

A chill that has nothing to do with the cold runs up Sam’s spine. He flushes, clearing his throat. “’Course. Right.”

Noticing Sam’s pink cheeks, Jack just laughs at them. “Are you guys flirting again?”

Sam shakes his head in bemusement. Well, going back home to an angry brother, a hot angel boyfriend, and their son wasn’t a bad way to spend the rest of the day.

It could always be worse, right?

Especially on a snow day.

#samjack #sam winchester #jack kline #sastiel #samcas #*mine #spn #supernatural

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kazekohitori · 4 years ago

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This is a four part fanfic I wrote for myself and my friends to help deal with the pain of the end of Castiel and Supernatural.

Please read CastielXStacie Chapters One and Two, CastielXAllanah Part One, and CastielXStevie before continuing.

CastielXAllanah Part Two

Allanah took Castiel back to her house where she thought they could better analyze the situation. She explained along the way that, in this world, Castiel was a character in a tv show played by beloved actor Misha Collins. Sam and Dean were played by two Texans who, after portraying brothers for so long, were very much like brothers in real life. The creator of the show, Eric Kripke, had left after season five and that was why the writing had taken a turn for the worse. Castiel listened intently, everything she said had all happened to him in the exact same way. Could the writers of this show be prophets? He didn’t recognize the names as such but maybe in this universe there was a different list of prophets inscribed into the angels minds.

And what of the angels? Were there angels here? Allanah said she had never seen one but couldn’t in good conscience exclude their existence. There had been no angel radio communications; in fact Castiel’s angel senses could not pick up any vibrations of the supernatural. No angels. No demons. No witchcraft or magic. This world seemed to be void of them. That, or his senses weren’t functioning properly.

Castiel had sat at Allanah’s computer the rest of the afternoon and evening reading news articles looking for signs of abnormalities that could be tied to his arrival here. He had found nothing. Deciding instead to focus on what was in front of him he looked into the show following his recent experiences. He had been interested in the love Misha Collins’ fans had for him and all the good Misha had triggered in this world. Allanah had gushed about what she knew of Misha and how kind he was, stating that was one of the reasons she loved the character Castiel. Not only did Misha portray a memorable angel, he was practically an angel himself.

Allanah went about her evening rituals while the angel did “research”. She finished her chores about the house, played with Emma, made dinner for them, put Emma to bed, and did the dishes all while Castiel sat hunched over the computer.

After her evening routine was complete she approached Castiel with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “You drink?”

Studying her he sat back, “I- uh... sure.”

Setting a glass down next to him she poured a glass for him, then one for herself. Holding her glass up to his when he took it, she said, “To new friendships.”

A small smile crept to his lips as he watched her take a sip and then followed suit. He only tasted molecules but it wasn’t unpleasant. He had learned with each “tasting” of human consumables he could discern the different molecular structures and, in a sense, taste. He liked sweet foods such as cereal and chocolate candy bars but the love he once had for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches was gone. This wine, to him, had semi-sweet undertones, like chocolate, with a hint of grape jelly. With each sip it started to grow on him.

Allanah went to sit on the couch in front of the tv where he joined her. “Shall we watch something?”

He gave a small nod, “if you want.”

She flipped through her tv’s menu for something he might enjoy, “anything in particular?”

He watched her take a sip of wine. Her lips pressing to the glass as the red liquid flowed in and over her tongue, her throat muscles bobbed with the swallowing action. Her neck had a graceful length and dip to it. And the way she held her head, as though some invisible crown lay upon it. “A queen of her domain,” Castiel mused, “not one easily trifled with.” And yet she had allowed him, what he considered himself to be, a stranger, into the bosom of her home. There was an easiness about her. She didn’t make him feel as if he were a stranger. She had welcomed him home, offered him a room to stay, with it’s own tv, access to a computer and the internet, and some spare clothes (apparently from an old boyfriend) for him should he wish to change, all without asking anything in return or expecting anything of him until he could ascertain the situation he now found himself in. Her kindness, he thought, was not found in every human. She was part of the rarer breed.

Allanah side-eyed him, “Hello? Any preference?”

Castiel withdrew his attention from her, focusing instead on his glass as he brought it up for another sip. “No. What ever you wish is fine.”

She opted for Criminal Minds and settled herself in for a riveting episode. However, shortly therein she felt his eyes upon her again. The angel on the show had a habit of awkwardness and staring. She had always considered this endearing. Now that she was on the opposite end of it she wasn’t so sure. Being so heavily scrutinized she couldn’t enjoy the show. She was tempted to snap at him but knew that would be detrimental to their budding friendship or, hopefully, she thought, romantic relationship.

She glanced at him, taking in his relaxed form sitting beside her on the couch. Would he ever take that trench coat off? It hindered her view of what lay beneath. She imagined his muscular arms around her, caging her to a wall as he pressed up against her, kissing her deeply then turning his mouth to her neck. She would pull his shirt from his belt and hastily unbutton it, pressing her lips to his when he lifted his head. She would then work on his belt to free his manhood from the confines of his trousers and squeeze his tight ass as she ripped his boxers from his legs. She imagined herself dropping before him and licking- Oh GOD! Could he hear her thoughts? Like in the show? Oh, Fuck! What had she done!

Her face turned a bright red as he watched her. Perhaps he was staring too much. He refocused his attention to the tv show. He wasn’t interested in it at all. What he really wanted to do was snuggle into her. To bathe in that warmth she had so freely given him on the street. To indulge in the scent of her and, if she’d allow it, to taste her wine soaked kiss.

“Mama?” A small voice from the bedroom roused both of them from their thoughts. Allanah left to check on her daughter while Castiel downed the half glass of wine he had left. Returning with Emma in tow, Emma ran to Castiel and jumped up on his lap while Allanah went to the kitchen to get Emma’s sippy cup. Emma started playing with Cas’ face, which he, surpringly, let her. He held her loosely to keep her from falling and smiled contentedly at her. Emma giggled and smooshed his cheeks together giving him “fish lips” and giggling louder when he moved them as such. She pulled at his ear as she readjusted herself on his lap, when he pulled away she reached for his nose instead. Again he pulled away but still smiled. She bopped him on the nose and he acted as though she had given him a knockout punch, throwing his head back and crying out in pain. Then he looked back at her and smiled. She did it again, and he again obliged.

Allanah returned having watched their game from the kitchen, “Emma, be nice,” a motherly tone in her voice. Emma giggled before taking the sippy cup and settling herself into Castiel’s lap, laying her head on his chest. If Allanah was ever jealous of her daughter this was it. Being a child, Emma could do things like climb into strangers laps and no one would bat an eye, but if Allanah did that she was sure to get some strange looks. “The innocence of youth...” she thought.

Allanah reached for Emma, “Sorry about that. C’mon Em.”

Emma moaned her disapproval, digging herself farther into Cas’ embrace, throwing her small arms around his chest and burying her face away from her mother.

“It’s okay,” Castiel stopped Allanah’s attempts to collect Emma. He folded his arms around her, cradling her to him.

Now Allanah really was jealous. But instead of saying anything she simply pouted her lips, poured herself some more wine, and watched the tv.

Several hours passed with the three of them on the couch. Emma had fallen asleep in Cas’ lap but every time Allanah tried to remove her she would wake and make a fuss. Castiel did not complain, instead reassuring Allanah he enjoyed having the small life on his lap. Allanah herself had started to become sleepy and considered feigning nodding off on Cas’ inviting shoulder.

Suddenly Allanah’s phone started going off with messenger notifications. She went to the kitchen to retrieve it and see what was going on. Stevie was sending messages one after another.

Stevie: YOU GUYS!

Stevie: OMG

Stevie: YOU GUYS!!!

Stevie: HES REAL

Stevie: IM LOOKING RIGHT AT HIM!

Stevie: HES HERE IN MY HOUSE!!

Stevie: HES REAL

Stevie: YOU GUYS!!!!

Stevie: AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

Allanah was the first to respond.

Allanah: What do you mean? Who?

Stevie: CASTIEL! HE’S HERE IN MY KITCHEN!

Allanah: How

Stevie: Idk but he is! We just kissed!

Stevie: I thought he was a dream but

Stevie: HE’S FUCKING REAL!!!

Allanah typed back.

Allanah: I know he is. I’m looking at him right now.

Stevie: What?

Allanah: He is on my couch with Emma.

Allanah: How is he with you?

Stevie: There’s two of them?!

Before Allanah could respond Christina chimed in.

Christina: Make that three

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn finale #castiel fanfiction #castiel

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waywardaardvark79 · 5 years ago

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The Tire Swing

Summary: Dean recalls important memories between him and reader.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, angst, character death

Word count: 7,178

It's funny how the sound or sight of something, even something so simple and mundane, can stop you in your tracks, memories flooding you in an instant once you encounter it. For some people it could be a song, others a smell, but for him, well, for him it was a tire swing.

The car was idling at a four way stop, Dean patiently waiting his turn when he spotted it in the yard cross the street hanging from a large Oak tree. He quickly glanced away, trying to focus his attention on anything else, but found himself drawn back to it, unable to look away no matter how hard he tried. That damn tire swing was taunting him, mocking him, and suffocating him with memories that he had desperately tried to lock away into the deep recesses of his mind.

He sucked in a breath, his chest tight, his knuckles white on the wheel, his mouth dry, and his heart skipping beats in his chest. He exhaled a shaky breath, released his grip on the wheel and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. The loud honking of a horn and a small voice from the back seat pulled him back to the present. He looked up into the rearview mirror, glancing back at the little girl in the back seat who was looking back at him with your eyes, an impatient look on her face that he had seen on yours countless times.

"Go, Daddy. It's our turn." she said.

"Sorry, sweetheart, you're right." he said as he took one last glance at the tire swing before pulling away.

A few moments later he was on the open highway, desperately trying to distract his mind as he turned the music up. His efforts were fruitless, the tire swing haunting him no matter what he did, so he let go. He let the walls come crumbling down, deciding that it was time to face the past head on. He couldn't out run you anymore.

He couldn't have been more than five or six years old the first time he saw you. He was riding his bike, racing down the sidewalk when he caught sight of you. He slowed himself to a crawl and watched as you got a running start before launching yourself through the middle of a tire swing. You landed on your stomach, your legs kicking wildly behind you as the tire swung back and forth.

He found himself slowing down even further before coming to a complete stop in front of you. He sat on the bike, his feet on the ground on either side of it keeping him upright, and watched as you spun yourself in a circle, winding the rope tighter and tighter in the same direction before pulling your feet off the ground. The tire started to spin wildly out of control in the opposite direction that you were spinning it, your high pitched giggle ringing out across the yard causing him to smile.

The swing started to slow and was now moving gently back and forth, your toes barely scraping the ground helping it along, when you first spotted him.

"Hi." you said.

"H-Hi." he stammered, a little embarrassed that he was caught staring at you.

"I like your bike. I wish mine had a flag like that." you said, still on your stomach in the swing as you pointed to the black and white checked flag waving behind his bike.

"Thanks. I, uh, I like your swing." he said.

You smiled brightly at him, "You wanna try it? It's really fun." you said as you wiggled out of the tire and hit the ground with a thud.

"I don't know. I've never tried a swing like that." he said.

You picked yourself up off the ground, and dusted the dirt from your blue jeans, "Don't worry, it's easy. Come on, I'll show you." you said as you walked towards him with your hand outstretched. Dean hesitated a moment before climbing off of his bike, wheeling it into your yard, and propping it up against the tree.

That was the day that you taught him the fine art of tire swinging, and the day that a simple thing like a tire hanging from a rope became on of the most symbolic things in his life.

Thousands of images of the two of you flashed through his mind before he settled on another memory. He was thirteen years old the first time he kissed you, that stupid swing making yet another appearance in his life.

It was the beginning of summer, and the school was hosting their annual end of school dance. You had planned on going with that total dickwad Brian Thompson, so Dean has asked Amber Miller to go with him so he wouldn't be without a date. He listened for weeks as you went on and on about how Brian was going to ask you any day now, so when he heard that Brian had actually asked Kara Butler to go with him instead of you, he knew you were going to be crushed, and he hated when you were upset.

However, on the other hand he couldn't help but feel relieved by the news. Brian Thompson was a grade A asshole, and he didn't want him anywhere near you. So, after he got home from school he let his feet lead him down that familiar sidewalk, a journey he knew by heart and could make in his sleep.

You were sitting in the tire swing, your posture slumped. Your arms were crossed in front of you on the tire, your head leaning against the side of the rope, your chin propped on one arm as your feet dragged the ground, gently swaying yourself back and forth.

"Need a push?" Dean asked as he walked up behind you.

You turned yourself to face him, your eyes red and puffy from crying, "You don't have to." you whispered out. "Don't you have somewhere to be, anyway?" you asked, sniffling a little before turning yourself to face away from him.

He toed at the dirt with his boot, "No, I'm exactly where I want to be." he said.

You whipped around in the swing and scoffed, "You're here because you feel sorry for me. I went on and on about him asking me for weeks, and he didn't. Now I look like a total idiot." you said, before whipping the swing back around. "You better get going. Amber is gonna be pissed that you're late." you said.

Dean shrugged, even though you couldn't see him, "I'm not going." he said.

"Dean." you breathed out, exhaustion from your seemingly world ending problem weighing you down.

"What? I don't want to go, so I'm not going. Amber found another date, so it doesn't matter." he said as he took a few steps towards you.

"Why did you ask her? I mean, why go through all the trouble of asking her to the dance just to not go in the end?" you asked.

"The person I wanted to go with already had a date, and I didn't want to look like the loser who couldn't get one, so I just asked her." he said.

"God Dean, how many times do I have to tell you to just give up on Cassie. It's never gonna happen, dude." you said, a slightly frustrated tone to your voice.

Dean rolled his eyes at the back of your head, "It wasn't Cassie." he said, not wanting to get on the subject of her with you. You weren't her biggest fan.

You turned slowly in the swing to face him and raised an eyebrow at him, "Jo?" you asked. Dean shook his head no. "Lisa?" you tried again. Dean shaking his head no again, a tight lipped smile on his face. You scrunched up your forehead in thought, "Is it that new guy, Cas? I mean, he's been following you around like a lost puppy." you said.

Dean's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, "What?" he croaked out.

"Did you want to ask Cas to the dance?" you teased, trying your best not to smile and come off completely serious.

Dean ran his hand over his face, "Oh my God, No! It was you, idiot. I wanted to ask you to go." he blurted out, walking towards you until he was standing right in front of you.

"Oh." was all you could manage, completely shocked by his admission, never in a million years thinking that he could ever be interested in you. You were the dorky best friend, not girlfriend material. Then it hit you, he probably only wanted to go with you as a friend.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, I know. I was trying to work up the nerve to ask, but then you said you were going with Brian, so I just asked Amber so I could go and keep an eye on you." he said.

"Well, Brian is a total jerk. You should have asked me, at least then I wouldn't be crying like an idiot in my front yard while everyone we know is out having fun." you said.

"I was going to, but then you started talking about him and I lost my nerve. Why do you think I was constantly telling you how big of an asshole the guy was? I was trying to get you to change your mind." he said.

"Well, I'm not a mind reader, Dean. You should have just come out and said something." you said before looking up at him, tears pooling in your eyes, "I really thought he was gonna ask me. I-I thought he liked me. Pretty stupid, huh. How could someone like that, like me?" you asked.

"Brian is a total dick. Don't cry over that guy." he said as stepped even closer to you, the tire the only thing separating the two of you.

You placed your feet on either side of his and started to rock yourself back and forth, "So, you were gonna ask me to the dance...like as friend or..." you trailed off not making eye contact with him.

"No, not as a friend...as a, uh, as a date." he stammered out, kicking himself for being so nervous.

You looked up at him, sitting up straight in the tire, one of your hands grasping the rope next to your head, "Really?" you asked, a wide smile on your face.

Dean looked down at you, finally having worked up enough nerve to just go for it, and leaned down until his face was inches from yours, "Really." he whispered before pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. He pulled back from you, scared that he may have crossed a line and took a couple steps back. He looked down at you as you struggled to free yourself from the tire, still never mastering the art of doing it gracefully. Your foot got hung up and you felt yourself start to fall. You managed to hang onto the rope with one hand, Dean coming to your rescue and keeping you from completely hitting the ground by catching you.

He helped you to your feet, your one hand still grasping onto the rope for dear life, using it to keep yourself grounded. Dean's hand came up and wrapped around yours, "Do that again." you whispered, Dean's face lighting up at your request before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again.

So, there he was standing under that tree with you, next to the tire swing that you had spent the better part of your shared childhood on, your hands woven together on the rope, the swing cementing it's place in another important moment.

Dean smiled softly to himself at the memory, and he swore that he could almost feel the ghost of your kiss on his lips. He took a deep breath, and wished that he could go back and relive that moment with you. He would give anything to kiss you again. He tried to keep that memory fresh in the front of his mind, but his mind had different plans and was soon rushing forward to another moment.

He was sixteen years old the first time he told you that he loved you. He knew it way before then. Hell, part of him thought he knew it the day you looked up at him and asked him to swing, but he told you, out loud, for the first time that day.

He had just gotten his driver's license, and his dad actually let him borrow the car to take you to a movie. He sat next to you in the theater, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, as he tried to figure out a way to say it. Should he just blurt it out? No, he couldn't do that. It needed to be special. He wanted you to know just how much he really meant it. His mind was racing, and he couldn't tell you one thing that happened in the movie you saw.

He walked hand in hand with you back to the car, and remembered the way you looked over at him, concern written all over your face, "Hey, you ok? You seem a little off." you said.

He smiled over at you, "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just tired." he lied, not wanting to blurt out that he had been racking his brain trying to come up with a decent way to tell you that he loved you.

He opened the door for you and you slid inside. He tried to give himself a pep talk while he walked over to his side of the car, and almost had himself convinced that he was ready to do it until he opened the door and got inside the car. He looked over at you and remembered how sweetly you smiled at him before scooting over in the seat, grabbing his hand and lacing his fingers with yours. The entire drive home he kept telling himself that he would do it any minute now, just look over at you and say it. I mean, it was only three words. How hard could it be? That thought kept running through his mind as he willed himself to say it, but the moment just didn't seem right, so he kept quiet the rest of the drive.

He pulled into the driveway of his parent's house, and you looked over at him with a puzzled look on your face, "I thought I could walk you home." he said, thinking that would provide him with a better opportunity.

"Ok. You sure you're all right?" you asked again, and he wanted to kick himself for acting so weird all night.

He raised your hand to his mouth, and placed a gentle kiss the back of it, "I'm fine. I promise." he said, before releasing your hand and opening the door.

You got out of the car and laced your fingers with his as the two of you walked down the sidewalk to your house. He kept you as close to him as he could, his pace slowing to a crawl the closer you got to your house. You took the lead, and started to pull him towards the door and he knew that he need to stall for more time. The two of you walked by the tire swing, and he said the first thing that popped into his head. "Wanna swing?" he asked.

You stopped and looked over your shoulder at him, "What?" you asked.

"Do you want to swing?" he asked again, praying that you would say yes because he needed more time. He watched as you shrugged your shoulders and walked over to the tire, holding onto the rope as you settled yourself inside. He stepped up behind you, placed his hands on your back and gave you a gentle push. You threw your legs out in front of you and held them up, his second push taking you a little higher. "Y/N, I....uh, I...." he trailed off, not able to finish his sentence.

"I love you too, Dean." you said, facing away from him as you swung through the air.

"What? You, what?" he asked, knowing that he misheard you.

"I love you too." you slowly said, digging your feet into the ground to stop you before spinning around to face him. "I mean, that is what you were trying to say, right?" you asked, hoping you didn't miss the mark.

He looked down at you, shock written all over his face, "How-How did you know that?" he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, "You've been weird all night, and had your I'm deep in thought and second guessing myself face on, so I figured you were either trying to say that or this was going to be really awkward when you said that you actually wanted to break up. I had a 50/50 shot, guess I was right." you said, a satisfied smirk on your face.

Dean shook his head before looking at you, "I love you." he breathed out.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it? Say it again." you said.

He smiled down at you, his hand wrapping around the swing to completely still it before leaning in and whispering, "I love you." against your lips.

You raised your hand and brought it to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of his neck, "I love you too." you whispered before pressing your lips to his, the tire swing the only thing separating the two of you.

Dean was so caught up in his memories of the two of you that he missed his exit. He looked up into the rearview mirror to see his daughter sleeping soundly in her car seat, and decided to take the long way home. He wasn't ready to go home, and face the empty house. You were still with him in his memories, and he wasn't ready to let go yet, so he drove.

He was eighteen years old when the two of you broke each other's heart , and to this day if he could redo that moment he would give anything he had to do so. The summer after graduation was coming to and end, college looming over the two of you like a dark cloud. You had decided to stay home, and attend the local community college, reasoning that you could learn basically the same thing at a cheaper price, and could use the money you saved to start a life anywhere you wanted. Dean had agreed with you and applied along with you, keeping the other schools he applied to a secret, never guessing that he would get in.

You were tangled up with him on the couch the day his brother Sam walked through the door and tossed a few letters at him. He quickly tried to gather them up before you saw them, the UT Austin return address quickly catching your eye. You sat up, "What's that?" you asked, as you looked down at the letters in his hand.

"Probably just junk mail." he said as he tossed the letters on the coffee table and tried to gather you back into his arms.

You quickly shoved him off and reached for the stack, ripping into the UT Austin envelope as you stood up and walked away from him. He watched as you read over the piece of paper in front of you, "Congratulations. You got in." you said as you tossed the letter to him.

He snatched it from his lap, "Y/N, I'm not going. I just applied out of nowhere. I never expected to get in." he said.

You looked down at the ground, "You should go. Don't let me stop you." you said before you made your way to the door.

"Y/N, wait. Where are you going?" Dean asked as he stood from the couch.

"Home. I'm going home, Dean." you spat before flinging open the door and slamming it behind you.

Dean was chasing after you in a heartbeat. He ran out of the door and across the yard, spotting you down the sidewalk stomping your way home. "Y/N!" he yelled after you, only causing you to increase your pace, the distance between the two of you growing. He broke out into a jog, quickly catching up to you and reaching out to grab your arm, "Y/N, would you just talk to me?" he asked.

You shook loose from his grip, never turning to face him, and continued on your way home. Your house was in your sights, and you had no plans of stopping until you were inside. You walked by the tire swing, reaching out and roughly pushing it to the side in anger, when Dean jumped in front of you blocking your path. "Y/N, please just talk to me." he said, his hands resting on your shoulders.

You stepped back behind the tire swing, using it as a barrier between the two of you, "What do you want me to say, Dean?" you asked.

He stepped towards you, the tire swing the only thing separating you, "Y/N, I'm not going. Like I said I didn't even think I would get in." he said.

The two of you were both hot heads, and often said things in the heat of the moment that you did mean, "I think you should go." you said.

Dean sighed, "I'm not going." he gritted out, trying to keep his patience with you.

"No, Dean, go. I'm not going to be the one that holds you back and keeps you from doing what you want to do. You obviously wouldn't have applied if you didn't want to go, so go. Maybe it's for the best." you said, your fingers digging into the top of the tire.

"For the best? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he asked, his temper starting to get the better of him.

"I don't want you to stay here and feel like your stuck with me, like I'm trapping you here. So, maybe you should go." you said.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Fine. You want me to go so bad I will." he said.

"Fine." you said.

The two of you stood toe to toe, staring at each other, daring the other person to make the first move. Dean looked down at you, his jaw clenched in anger, before huffing out a breath and storming off. You kept your eyes straight ahead, not daring to turn and watch him leave. Your fingers were digging into the top of the tire so hard that you weren't surprised to look down and see the little crescent shapes your nails left behind. You flung the tire to the side and stormed into the house, not once looking back.

He was nineteen years old when he realized what idiots the two of you were, and drove home from Austin with one thing on his mind. He pulled his car up in front of your house, taking notice that your car was missing from the driveway and deciding that he would wait as long as he had to for you to come back.

He was starting to doze off in the front seat, the sun had set long ago, and he wasn't even sure what time it was. He rested his head against the window and closed his eyes, only to be pulled back to reality a few moments later when he heard a knock on the window. He cracked open his eyes, ready to explain that he wasn't a stalker to whoever was going to ask him what he was doing when he saw you. You were standing there, your arms crossed over your chest, staring down at him with an annoyed look on your face, "What are you doing here?" you asked.

Dean cracked open the door, "I just wanna talk." he said before pushing it the rest of the way open and climbing out.

"I have nothing to say to you." you said before turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

"Y/N! Stop!" Dean barked, causing you to stop in your tracks, your hand reaching out and grabbing onto the rope of the tire swing next to you.

"Why?" you asked, not bothering to turn around to face him.

He closed the gap between the two of you, "I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry and I never should have left." he said.

You turned to face him, placing the tire between the two of you, and shrugged your shoulders, "I told you to go." you said.

"I know, but I shouldn't have. I never should have left, and everyday that I have been gone the only thing I have wanted to do was come back. I have wanted to come back to you so fuckin' bad." he said, his hand reaching out and grabbing onto the rope.

"I, uh, I came to Austin a few months ago. I had this big plan of trying to win you back because the whole time you have been gone I couldn't help but think if I hadn't of reacted the way I did you wouldn't have left. I was just so scared that you really did want to leave that I didn't listen, and I pushed you away before you could do it to me. I'm sorry." you said.

"You were in Austin? Why didn't you find me?" he asked.

"I did. I came to campus and there you fuckin' were, right across from me. You were sitting with a few different people, and you...you looked happy. You looked really happy, and I didn't want to ruin it, so I left." you said.

Dean shook his head at you, "You are what makes me happy, and I'm sorry that I waited so long to come back. And...now that I'm here, I'm not leaving without you." he said before pulling you from behind the swing. He looked at you, took a deep breath, and dropped to his knee, "Marry me." he blurted out.

You looked down at him, your mouth hanging open in shock, "W-what?" you managed to ask.

"Marry me. Marry me and come back to Texas with me. We can figure everything else out when we get there." he said.

"Dean, I...you...you can't just show up here after not seeing me for a year, and ask me to marry you. I...I have a life here, and school...and a job...and have you lost your fuckin' mind?" you asked.

Dean shook his head, "The only thing I know is that being without you this last year has been the worst year of my life. I know you have a life here, and I know that I can't expect you to drop it all for me, but just..." he trailed off.

"Yes!" you blurted, your hand clamping over your mouth after you said it.

"Yes?" Dean asked. "Yes, you'll marry me or yes, you won't drop everything for me?" he asked.

You looked down at him, your mind screaming at you that this was completely crazy, and you should turn and walk away, but your heart was telling you that the only life you wanted was one with him, "Yes, I'll marry you." you quickly said.

Dean jumped up, his quick movement startling you causing you to take a couple of steps back, and grab onto the rope of the swing to steady yourself. He put his hands on your cheeks, "You'll marry me?" he asked, smiling from ear to ear, the swing present at yet another important moment in his life, one that would change everything.

You nodded your head, "I'm pretty sure that it is completely insane, and that we are going about this in the worst way possible, but yeah, I'll marry you." you said. Dean crushed his lips to yours, and part of you knew right then, that as crazy as it seemed, it was the right thing to do. So, that's what you did. You packed up and moved to Austin with him without blinking an eye, and three years later you walked down the aisle, Dean waiting at the end for you, a huge smile on his face, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

He was 23 years old when he drove nearly eleven hours from your home in Austin back to Lawrence, Kansas. The two of you had been married a year, and there was only one thing he could think of to get you for your anniversary. He had already talked to your parents, and it was waiting for him when he pulled up. He thanked them before hauling that damn tire up onto his shoulder and loading it into the trunk.

He had managed to beat you home, and hang the swing from the large tree in your front yard. He stood back and looked at the swing before pulling out his phone and calling you, "Hey, you gonna be home soon?" he asked before you even said a word.

You chuckled, "Happy Anniversary to you too. Yeah, I should be there in about fifteen minutes. I got a surprise for you." you sang out.

"Right back at ya, sweetheart. I'll see you soon." he said.

"See you soon." you said before hanging up the phone.

Dean was waiting in the driveway for you when you pulled up. He rushed to your door and opened it, "Close your eyes." he said.

"Can I at least get out?" you asked.

"Nope. Now close them." he said. You did as he asked and felt him grab your hand as he helped you from the car and closed the door behind you.

"My purse. Grab my purse." you quickly said, your eyes closed tight. You heard him open the door and quickly close it again, the strap of your purse soon landing in your outstretched hand. You hoisted it up on your shoulder, "Ok, I'm ready." you said, as he started to guide you forward.

You came to a stop, "Open your eyes." he said.

You blinked them open, your eyes quickly adjusting to the sunlight when you saw it hanging from the tree. You ran over to it, your hand running across the top of the tire before turning back to him, "This isn't..." you trailed off.

Dean nodded his head, "That's it." he proudly said.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you looked at him in astonishment, "You drove all the way back home to get this?" you asked, tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

"Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart." he said before walking over to you. "Besides, I figured we might need it one day, you know, kids love these things." he said, a smile on his face that he had managed to surprise you.

You slowly nodded your head, "Yeah, they do, and we might end up needing it sooner than you think." you said as you reached into your purse and pulled out a white envelope. You handed it over to him, "Happy Anniversary." you said.

Dean looked down at the envelope in his hand for a moment before slowly opening it, his eyes glued to yours. You nodded your head towards his hands and he looked down at what he was holding. A grainy black and gray image stared back at him, and he felt himself stumble backward a few steps, "Is this a...are you...I'm gonna be a dad?" he asked. You smiled, and nodded your head. He quickly scooped you up into his arms and started to spin you in circles. "I'm gonna be a dad!" he excitedly yelled out. He quickly came to a stop and placed you back onto your feet, his hand flying to your stomach, "I'm gonna be a dad." he quietly said.

"You are." you said, smiling up at him, your hand coming to rest over his. "Happy Anniversary." you said.

Dean pressed his lips to yours, "Happy Anniversary." he said.

Eight and a half months later he was attempting to rush you across the yard to the car, your water had broken a few minutes ago, and the two of you were in a panic. "The bag." you rasped out when you were halfway across the lawn.

"The what?" Dean asked.

"The bag. You forgot the bag." you said, as you squeezed his hand. Dean looked back at the house, and then over to you, "Go. I'll wait right here." you said, as you reached out and grasped the rope of the tire swing. Dean looked at you one more time, "Go." you said, another contraction ripping through you, causing you to hold onto the rope for dear life. Dean nodded his head, and quickly ran back inside.

He returned a few moments later, the bag hanging from his shoulder, as he quickly made his way to you. He pried your fingers from the rope, "Come on, Sweetheart." he said as he led you to the car.

The ride to the hospital seemed to last forever. Dean kept looking over at you with worry as you groaned and panted in the passenger seat, "I'm never having sex with you again. Oh God, this is all your fault." you gritted out.

"I know. I know, Sweetheart, but we're almost there, just a few more minutes." Dean said.

"A few more minutes for you maybe. I still have to push this thing out of me." you said between pants.

"She'll be worth it in the end." Dean said, as he pulled up in front of the hospital and jumped out of the car, quickly running inside to get help. The nurse helped you from the car into a wheelchair, and ushered you inside.

You were changing into a hospital gown when Dean walked into the room. You glared at him over your shoulder as another contraction hit, "I...hate...you so much...right now." you breathed out.

Dean rushed to your side, and helped you into bed, "You can hate me all you want, whatever you want." he said as he brushed a few strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.

You grabbed his hand, "I don't hate you, this just really fuckin' hurts." you said.

Dean raised your hand to his lips and placed a kiss to the back of it, "I know, Sweetheart, but you're doing good. You're doing so good. I love you so much." he praised.

He stayed with you the entire time, whispering encouragement as you pushed your daughter into the world. Your head fell back against the bed after your final push, her cries alerting you that she had arrived, "Is she ok?" you panted out. "Dean, go check on her. Tell me that she's ok." you said, as you pulled your hand from his and urged him to leave your side.

Dean walked up to the nurse and looked down at his newborn daughter in complete awe. "She's perfect." he finally managed to say. "Absolutely perfect." he mumbled to himself before turning to look at you. He expected to see you eagerly awaiting his assessment, but your head was turned to the side, your eyes fluttering closed. "What's going on? What's happening?" he asked as he tried to get back to your side.

The nurse stepped in front of him, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room." she said as she placed her hand against his chest and tried to push him backward.

"I'm not fuckin' leavin', that's my wife. What the fuck is going on? Y/N! Y/N!" he cried out.

"Sir, I need you to leave. There has been a complication, and you have to go." she said, forcing him out of the room.

Dean stumbled into the hall, his back hitting the wall before he slowly slid down to the floor. He watched as the door flew open a few minutes later and you were rushed from the room, nurses on each side as they rushed you down the hall. Dean jumped to his feet, "Hey, can somebody tell me what's going on?" he begged.

The doctor ran from the room, "Mr. Winchester, there has been a complication. We'll do everything we can." she said before running off down the hall.

Dean ran his hands through his hair, in complete shock. He didn't know what to do. He stumbled back against the wall and slid to the floor, his elbows propped on his knees, his face buried in his hands, and he did the only thing he could think of, he prayed. He prayed to everything he could think of. He needed you to be ok. He just needed you to be ok. He didn't know how long he sat there, before he heard footsteps approaching. He raised his head to see the doctor walking towards him, and jumped to his feet, "Is she ok? Can I go see her? Please, just let me go see her. I need to see her." he rambled out.

The doctor came to a stop in front of him, "I need you to come with me." she solemnly said.

Dean shook his head, "You're taking me to see her right? I need to see her." he said.

"Mr. Winchester, if you would please follow me." she got out before Dean interrupted.

"No, not unless I get to see her. S-she's ok. She's ok, and I need to see her." he said, his voice cracking.

"Please, just follow me." the doctor said, as she gently grabbed his arm and led him down the hall. She stopped in front of a door and led him into a small room, the hospital chaplain waiting at the table.

Dean tried to back out of the room, "No. No. This isn't happening. She's fine." he said. He turned to the doctor. "She's fine. I need you to tell me she's fine." he pleaded.

"Please have a seat." she said, as she ushered him to a chair, and pulled it out for him.

Dean sat down at the table, and the doctor sat across from him. She started to explain everything that happened, but Dean was in a fog, only hearing a few words here and there. She said something about uterine atony and how you started to hemorrhage. He heard her say that they did everything they could, and that it was a very rare outcome, occurring in less than one percent of cases in the United States. He sat there and listened to her and the chaplain both tell them how incredibly sorry they were for his loss, before they left him alone in the room.

Two days later he left the hospital with your newborn daughter, alone. He drove to the home he shared with you, his mother's car waiting in the drive when he pulled up. He shut off the engine and looked out across the yard, his attention immediately settling on the tire swing, and in that moment, so full of hurt and anger he had never hated anything more. That damn swing was staring back at him, the last thing you had touched before you left home, a constant reminder that you were gone, and he swore in that moment that he would never look at that thing again.

He carried your daughter inside, his mother quickly stepping in and taking her from him. He looked out the window at the swing, before quickly rushing into the garage. He grabbed everything he needed to cut the swing from the tree before dragging it all to the front yard. He made quick work of getting it down, and carried it back into the garage, tossing it into the far corner before draping a tarp over it. He put away the ladder and the tools he used, vowing that he would get rid of it when he had the time, but no matter how bad he wanted to get rid of it, the time never seemed to come.

He was 30 years old when he pulled into the driveway of the home he used to share with you. He got out of the car, and carried your sleeping daughter inside, and tucked her into bed. He walked aimlessly around the house before somehow finding himself in the garage, standing in the far corner, looking down at an aged, blue tarp. He tore the tarp aside, and looked down at the swing. He didn't know how long he stood there, every memory he had of you replaying in his mind as he stared at it. He ran his hand over his face, and he knew what he had to do.

He had just finished doing the breakfast dishes when he turned to your daughter, "Hey, Sweetheart, let's go outside. I have a surprise for you." he said as he wiped his hands on the dish towel.

"A surprise!? What is it? What is it?" she asked as she excitedly jumped up and down.

Dean scooped her up into his arms, "Let's go see." he said.

He carried her outside, across the lawn to the large tree in the front yard. "Wanna swing?" he asked.

She looked up at him, "I've never seen a swing like that." she said as Dean placed her on the ground and took her hand.

"Don't worry, it's easy. Come on, I'll show you." he said as he led her to the tire swing.

He was 30 years old the day he taught your daughter the fine art of tire swinging. He watched as she took a running start and launched herself through the middle of the tire, landing on her stomach, her legs kicking wildly behind her as she swayed back and forth. He taught her how to spin it in a circle, and stood back when she raised her feet off the ground, the tire spinning wildly in the opposite direction as her high pitched giggle rang out across the yard. He watched as she wiggled herself from the tire, landing with an ungraceful thud on the ground before popping back up. "That was fun." she said, as she started the entire process over again.

He watched with a sad smile on his face, she was your double in every way possible, and as she launched herself through the middle of the tire again, he couldn't help but go back to the first time he saw you, the day you taught him the fine art of tire swinging. He watched your daughter, a smile on his face, and he knew that you would be so proud of both of them.

It's funny how the sound or sight of something, even something so simple and mundane can stop you in your tracks, memories hitting you in an instant the moment you encounter it. For some people it could be a song, for others a smell, but for him...for him it would always be a tire swing.

#supernatural fic #supernatural one shot #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural au #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #dean x you #reader insert #dean #spn fic #spn #spn one shot #angst

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perspective-series · 5 years ago

Text

Exposed Perspective (3)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Guilt, fear, slight panic, mentions of past trauma, and nightmares

THIS IS THE THIRD STORY IN A TRILOGY. READ “A Third Perspective” AND “Switched Perspectives” FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE!

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the TWO prequels!)

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Patton leaned back against the blanket that Thomas had placed inside the bag he was earlier. It was very soft and Patton found himself enjoying the ride. He did tense when he heard Thomas enter the school, hearing all the human’s voices. But he forced himself to relax, knowing he was safe with Thomas right there.

It was difficult for Thomas to focus in history, what with the borrower in his bag. He tried his best though just in case Patton had any questions after. Finally, the period ended, and Thomas ducked into an empty classroom briefly. Looking around to be sure they were alone, Thomas opened the bag.

“What’d you think?” Thomas asked, grinning down at Patton.

Patton flinched a bit as the top of the bag opened up but quickly relaxed when he saw that it was, in fact, Thomas. He grinned up at the human. “It was so interesting! I knew humans did amazing things but I never knew to what magnitude!”

“I know, right!” Thomas said eagerly. He was glad Patton had come on a day when the Professor didn’t just drone on and on. “I love learning about the fun parts of history.”

“It’s amazing how much you guys have kept records of.” Patton smiled sadly. “We can’t really do that has borrowers. Considering we’re all so separated and the majority of us can’t even read or write.” It would be nice to learn some history of borrowers but it just didn’t exist.

“Aww, Pat.” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows in sympathy. “Can...you read? Or write?”

“I can read but I’ve never tried to write before. I probably could though.” Patton shrugged.

“I could help you.” Thomas offered. “I’m sure we could find some writing utensils for you.”

Patton grinned. “That would be awesome! Thank you, Thomas!” Even if it wasn’t practical, he would love to be able to write. “I’m glad you turned out to be one of the nicer humans,” Patton said.

“Thanks, Pat!” Thomas smiled. “I’m glad, too.” Thomas felt a vibration in his back pocket, and he pulled out his phone to check the message he just received. “Oops, Roman’s looking for us.”

“Roman? Oh! Do we get to see him now?” Even though Patton had chosen to go with Thomas for his first class, he still hated that he didn’t get to be with Roman as well.

“If we’re not late,” Thomas said sheepishly. “We share the same bio class in the afternoon.” Thomas stuck out his tongue to show his dislike for the subject.

Patton hummed, the subject sounding boring to him. But, he didn��t really care if he got to hang out with both Thomas and Roman. “Well, what are we waiting for!”

Thomas chuckled at his eagerness, heading back into the hall. He entered the biology lab, noticing that almost every seat was taken.

“You’re late.” Thomas jumped, noticing that instead of his usual professor, Dr. Dee stood at the front of the room with a frown.

“I- ah, where’s Dr. Picani?” Thomas asked.

“Picani is out sick,” Dee explained. “I’m substituting for him, and if you take your seat perhaps I could get back to doing just that.”

“Yes, sir.” Thomas ducked his head, heading to the back of the classroom. After a moment Thomas spotted Roman closer to the front but thought it would be best to take his seat rather than move again and anger the professor further.

Roman sighed, watching Thomas head to the back. So much for the three of them.

Patton listened out for Roman and braced himself to be taken out of the bag, when he heard the lesson start immediately, frowning, Patton poked his head out of the bag and looked around. When he saw Roman’s legs a few chairs ahead of them, he realized they weren’t sitting next to him.

Patton really should have just waited the hour and a half for the class to be over but already the lesson was boring him and he really wanted to see Roman. So, he climbed out of the bag, took a deep breath, and quickly started making his way towards Roman’s legs.

He had a few close calls with some shifting feet but he managed to dodge all of them. He also kept an eye out to make sure no one was watching him. When he finally made it to Roman’s legs, he immediately started to climb up them.

Roman, who had been staring off into space, froze. He didn’t want to draw attention to what he thought could only be Patton, feeling a tugging sensation on his pant leg. Roman leaned back a minuscule amount, glancing down. He sucked in a gasp, eyes widening.

It seemed Roman wasn’t the only one who caught a glimpse of the borrower. Slowly the lecture droned off, the room filling with silence.

“...uh, teach?” Remy looked up from his phone, legs propped up on his desk.

“Quiet, millennial.” Dr. Dee hissed, eyes locked on the miniature creature currently scaling one of his students. There. Dee couldn’t believe it. After all this time, all his fruitless years of traps and plans, one of the tiny people had fallen right into his lap. Or rather, Roman’s lap.

Roman looked up at the professor briefly, flinching at the malicious gaze focused on him. Oh, this isn’t good. Roman quickly scooped Patton up into his hands, almost tossing Patton into his bag to get the borrower out of sight.

Patton yelped as he was suddenly grabbed and thrown into a bag. He winced as he hit the ground but quickly got up to look up at the opening of the bag. He wanted to say something but knew that wouldn’t be a good idea in the now mostly silent classroom.

The second the borrower was out of sight, Roman picked up his bag. Instantly the professor began storming over towards him, but Roman was already heading to the door.

“Young man, this lecture is not over.” Dee snarled. “Return to your seat or I will be forced to take disciplinary measures.”

“I pay tuition, I do what I want.” Roman sidestepped around the older man, holding his bag close. “Thomas, we’ll see you back home.”

All the students turned to Thomas, who had turned an ashen gray as he realized what was going on. However, the professor still had eyes only for Roman.

“GET BACK HERE!” The dean bellowed, following him out into the hall as Roman dashed away. “If you leave this building, I’ll see to it you never set foot inside these halls again!”

Roman knew the professor was full of hot air. Or at least, he hoped he was. Regardless, there were more important matters at hand. Roman didn’t even slow down until he got to his car, setting the bag in the passenger seat.

“What’s his problem,” Roman muttered, starting up the car.

Halfway through the professor yelling, Patton had realized who it was. And now he was thinking this was all his fault. If only he had stayed in the bag. Patton suddenly wondered if Roman was angry with him and shook at the thought. But no, he had nothing to worry about. He had to remind himself of that. Roman, despite being mad or otherwise, would never hurt him. They were friends, after all. Not to mention Roman had promised.

“I’m sorry,” Patton spoke up from the bag, deciding that Roman still deserved an apology.

Roman almost missed the quiet apology with the hum of the car engine. He took advantage of the car ride to take a few minutes to calm himself down. Roman let out a deep sigh.

“It’s alright, Patton,” Roman spoke in a calmer tone. “But I have to ask, what were you doing?”

Patton pulled himself up so he was half hanging out of the bag, now able to look up at Roman. He sighed. “I just wanted to see you…” Patton admitted sheepishly, looking down again.

Roman’s heart nearly broke at that answer, feeling briefly overwhelmed with his love for his tiny friend. “Aww, Pat…”

“And I should have known not to, especially with Dr. Dee there but I hadn’t realized it was him until he started yelling at you.” Patton sighed, shaking his head. He was just glad Roman was able to get him away before something had happened.

“Hang on.” Roman turned the engine off, having arrived at the apartments. He looked down at Patton. “How do you know professor snake eyes?”

Patton tilted his head. “Logan hasn’t told you? Dr. Dee was the professor he was going to show Virgil to but decided not to because of how creepy and dangerous he was.”

“Ugh, yeah I hate that guy.” Now Roman just had more good reasons to hate biology. He gathered up the bag, heading back up to his apartment with a lot on his mind. That had been close. Too close.

“Are you okay, Patton?” Roman asked as they got home, realizing he had never actually asked.

Patton thought it over. “I’m okay. Mostly thanks to you, of course. But I’m sorry again you had to go through that. I-I should have just stayed in Thomas’ bag…” Patton rubbed at his arm, looking away sadly.

“No, Patton, it’s alright,” Roman assured him, offering him a hand out of the bag. “You shouldn’t have to remain cooped up in there all day.”

Patton climbed onto the hand with no hesitation. “Well, I did agree to go to school with you guys. I knew what I was getting into.”

“There must be a better way to do this, though.” Roman hummed thoughtfully to himself. “I mean, that first class must have been pretty boring just sitting there and listening.”

“Not really!” Patton said happily. “It was actually really fun, learning about human history.”

“...oh.” Roman clearly that was not the answer Roman had not been looking for. He quickly pasted a smile back on anyways. “Well, I’m glad you had at least one good experience.”

Patton nodded before hearing his stomach growl. “Maybe we should eat while we wait for Thomas to get back?” Patton suggested, holding a hand to his stomach.

“Sounds like a marvelous idea.” Roman agreed, bringing them both to the kitchen.

***

Dee could feel himself seething, standing in the classroom doorway as that impudent student disappeared around the corner.

“You!” The dean snapped, turning around to point at Thomas who was sinking very low in his chair as if he wished to disappear. “My office, now. I’ve got some questions for you, boy.”

“Uh, you’re supposed to be teaching us?” Remy lowered his sunglasses to raise an eyebrow.

“Class is canceled.” Dr. Dee came over, shoving Remy’s legs off the desk so that the student was sitting in the chair properly. “You were all on your phones anyways, what a waste of potential.” Though they had just been insulted, after the word ‘canceled’ the students immediately stopped paying him any attention. The classroom packed up. Thomas hurried to blend into the crowd.

“Uh, of course, I’m on my phone.” Remy stood up, looking annoyed at the professor. “What, you think a pumpkin spice is enough to cure my seasonal depression alone? Honey, Starbucks is good, but it’s not that good.”

“I would be honestly impressed if anything of substance ever came out of your mouth.” The dean glared at the leather-clad rebel giving him sass. This immediately sent Remy into another rant, making Dr. Dee’s head pound as he felt an oncoming migraine.

Noticing an opportunity, Thomas snuck out the back door of the classroom, knowing he owed Remy for his welcome distraction.

***

Logan groaned, finally home after what had been a long day of classes. For some reason, the dean seemed even more tense than usual. Ever since Logan had returned the cage, Dr. Dee seemed determined to make Logan’s life a living hell. For whatever reason, today the professor seemed to have upped his antics.

Virgil sighed as he once again found himself up on the counter when Logan got home. Virgil was starting to see a pattern here and he didn’t like it. He silently packed up and started to unfurl his hook.

Though Logan saw Virgil on the counter the moment he entered the kitchen, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he began searching through the cabinets for something resembling a dinner plan. In his irritation, Logan slammed one of the doors more harshly than intended.

“Ah!” Virgil yelled at the sudden noise and paused in his retreat, cowering.

“...apologies,” Logan muttered, returning to his task with a tense sigh.

Virgil really should have just left things alone. But he didn’t. “...What’s up with you?”

“Dr. Dee decided to make his vendetta against me perfectly clear today.” Logan ranted. “He claims that if I don’t turn over my findings I will be removed from the biological college entirely, and certainly any chance I had of earning a masters degree by 22 is permanently destroyed. The dean won’t let me within a hundred yards of his precious program of elitist little-” Logan muttered the end of his rant, focusing on getting a soup can open.

“Oh.” Virgil wasn’t really sure how to react to all of that. “...You aren’t going to do that though, right? Turn me in, I mean…” Virgil had to ask because he knew that would solve all of Logan’s current problems.

“Virgil, if you ask me that again I will be forced to stuff you into this can.” Logan lifted the now empty soup can, having poured the contents into the pot.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he took several steps back. His whole body was tense. “I-I was just making sure…” Virgil grit his teeth. “I mean, with you complaining so much…” He muttered, trailing off.

Logan glanced over at the borrower, his heart broken when he noticed Virgil’s reaction.

“Virgil, I was attempting humor,” Logan admitted sadly, knowing jokes were not his forte. Perhaps that had been unwise. “No, I am never going to turn you in. That man’s threats are not worth your life. And if it brings you comfort, you are welcome to ask me that as many times as you wish so that I may reassure you.”

Virgil relaxed a little at Logan’s words. Though the attempt at humor was not funny whatsoever. “Okay, good-uh...good to know.” Virgil looked down at his half unfurled hook. “Guess, I’ll see you later then. I hope, ah, I hope things work out?” Virgil went to finish undoing his hook.

“We shall see.” Logan turned back to his pot, stirring it slightly. At this point, Logan could see very few positive outcomes.

Virgil made it to the ground in record time before pulling his hook back towards him. He was liking the new string Logan had gotten him. It was super sturdy and could hold a lot more weight than his last one.

Sending one more look up at Logan, Virgil went back into the walls.

***

After that, it was a relatively normal evening for Logan. He ate his soup, did his homework, went to bed. It all felt so routine. No one would have ever guessed that Logan was aware a tiny occupant was living beneath the loose floorboard in the hallway. Logan had offered to fix it, but Virgil had responded with a resounding NO, as usual.

Logan sighed, taking off his glasses and setting them on his nightstand. Perhaps it would be better if Logan had never found Virgil in the first place.

As Logan closed his eyes, it was clear that the borrower was still on his brain.

“Virgil, why are we up here?”

Logan tossed and turned, plagued by the same horrible nightmare that had been haunting him these last few nights.

“What’s wrong Logan? Scared?”

Logan cried out, desperately trying to swing his legs up or reach his arms back to get a solid grasp on Virgil’s digits. It was no use, and with a jolt, Logan felt himself slowly starting to slip out of his shirt.

“I trusted you.” Virgil sneered.

Logan felt the grasp on the back of his shirt release. His arms flailed uselessly, plummeting towards the earth back first so that Virgil’s cruel grin continued to mock him as he fell down...3 stories...4….

Just before Logan was meant to hit the pavement he let out a startled cry, sitting up in bed.

Virgil jumped, startled at Logan’s sudden cry. He had found himself in Logan’s room that night, wanting to borrow a few more things from the room. He looked towards the bed with furrowed brows. Biting his lip, he debated on what to do. He sighed and got out his hook to climb up the nightstand.

Logan groaned, rubbing his hands across his face. It was just a dream. Of course, there was no chance of Logan falling back asleep anytime soon. He reached for his glasses, only to spot the hook embedded in the wood. Slowly Logan grabbed his glasses, pressing them to his face and turning on the bedside light.

Virgil faltered a little as he saw Logan’s hand grab for his glasses and the light turn on but he kept going until he was at the top. He left his hook where it was, turning to look at Logan as he plunged his hands into his pockets. Logan didn’t look so great. “Um...hey.” He said a bit awkwardly.

Logan pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin atop them and staring straight ahead into the darkness of his room. “...I apologize if I woke you.”

“No, it’s fine. I was already awake.” Virgil reassured Logan. He took a seat at the edge of the nightstand, briefly wondering what on earth he was doing there. “You...wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” Logan admitted.

Virgil was silent for a moment. “...It was about me, wasn’t it?” Virgil spoke softly, looking up at Logan through his bangs.

Logan just nodded. There was silence again for a few minutes.

“Do you ever have nightmares about me?” Logan asked quietly.

“...Yeah.” Virgil admitted just as quietly. “Most have to do with the cage...others are about you...handing me over to Dee…” Virgil looked away.

Logan let out a groan, burying his head in his knees. His voice was muffled. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

Virgil shook his head. “I’m sorry too...I really messed everything up as a human. No wonder I was born a borrower…” Virgil chuckled humorlessly before going silent again for a brief moment. “Maybe you were right, I deserved it,” Virgil spoke softly, almost too quiet to hear.

“Falsehood.” Logan pulled his head up to look over at the borrower. “You should not say such things. It feeds into your negative emotions and causes you to falsely blame yourself.”

Virgil bit his lip. “But, your nightmares...they are my fault.”

“My nightmares are a collection of my subconscious imagination and various, fragmented memories,” Logan explained. “You are in no more control of them than I am. Therefore, they are no one’s ‘fault’.”

“...So, you don’t blame me for them?” Virgil asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I don’t.” Logan shook his head. He considered Virgil for a moment. “Do you blame me for yours?”

Virgil looked down. “I did, but...not anymore. Despite my less than great attitude towards you lately, I know you’re...trying.” Virgil admitted.

Logan gave a soft, amused snort. “Thank you.”

Virgil thought for a minute. “Do you blame yourself? For my nightmares?” He asked cause he knew from experience it was easier to blame oneself than others.

“Not your nightmares, no.” Logan let out a sigh. “Just everything else.”

“Logan…” Virgil didn’t know what to say. Except...but was it true? If he said it now, would he mean it? Virgil thought over the past few days, realizing the answer.

“Logan, I forgive you.”

Logan froze, blinking slowly. His mouth felt almost like sandpaper, and Logan feared if he tried to say anything no sound would come out.

“I...truly?” Logan managed to gape like a fish.

Virgil nodded. “I’d be kind of a hypocrite to not forgive you but expect you to forgive me. But also, like I said, I...I know you’re trying. You really are and I’m sorry for acting as I have to you these past few days.”

Logan let out a long sigh of relief, feeling the tension he had been carrying slowly begin to ease. There was a bit of wetness to be found in his eyes.

“Thank you, Virgil.” Logan sat up, sitting more naturally as he turned to the borrower. “And I don’t know if it was ever properly expressed, but I want to make it clear that I forgive you as well.”

“Thanks, Logan.” Virgil smiled. “So, you heading back to bed now?”

Logan glanced around, taking it literally. “...I’m already in my bed.”

Virgil blinked before giving Logan a deadpan look but a small smile was on his face. “I meant are you going back to sleep.”

“Ah. Yes, I should probably at least attempt to gain a little more sleep.” Logan gave a nod, hiding a yawn behind the back of his hand.

“Cool. I should probably head to bed as well. I originally came here for a few things, but I guess I could always ask you for them tomorrow.” Virgil sent Logan a knowing smile as he began to stand and stretch.

“Oh, ah, of course.” Logan sat up straighter. He tried to play it off casually, but inside Logan swelled with pride at the fact that Virgil was truly willing to trust him.

“Goodnight, Lo. Sweet dreams.” And with that, Virgil climbed down his hook and went back into the walls using the exit underneath Logan’s bed.

Logan smiled, setting his glasses back on the nightstand and turning off the light. Virgil’s words proved true, and Logan spent the rest of the night in a peaceful slumber.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #borrowers #borrower!virgil #borrower!patton #human!roman #human!patton #deceit #character!thomas #platonic #analogical #royality #lamp #exposed perspective #part 3

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vicmc624 · 6 years ago

Text

Caught wet handed

Pairing: Dean x reader

word count: 1541

Warnings: Mature audiences only, smut

Description: The boys are out of town, the reader decided to please herself while they are gone, only to be caught by Dean.

Masterlist

The boys were out on a hunt and you weren't expecting them back for a few days. You had been living with them in the bunker for a while now and you loved having the place to yourself. You didn't have to try to hide your feelings for Dean. You knew he would never go for someone like you, but you couldn't stop thinking about him. His freckles, his beautiful green eyes. The way his face lights up when he smiles. Sometimes it just took thinking about him to get you all hot and bothered. And since you had the whole bunker to yourself you decided to head back to your room and take care of yourself. It had been a while since you got any, one night stands weren't your thing and relationships were too hard as a hunter.

You got to you room and closed your door. After laying down on your bed you start thinking about what it would feel like to have Dean's hands all over you. You moved your hand under your shirt and close your eyes. Picturing Dean hovering over you his hand slowly making its way to your breast. You caressed it with one hand well your other hand made its way down your stomach and ending up sliding your underwear down your legs. You spread your legs and moved your hand up your thigh. You could almost smell Dean and it turned you on even more. You brushed your fingers through your folds and felt how wet you already were. You have to stop doing this. Thinking of Dean made it hard to look at him in the face for a few days but you had time. They were gone. You started rubbing your clit and moved your other hand you slip a finger inside your pussy. You were getting lost in thoughts of Dean and you could feel your climax building. You started to moan louder and couldn't stop Deans name from escaping your lips. His was the only name you ever wanted to moan. You were so distracted that you didn't hear your bedroom door opening. You opened your eyes to see Dean staring at you like a deer in headlights. Neither of you moved or spoke for several seconds. Finally he turned around and apologized for walking in your room.

“I heard you say my name and I thought you heard us come home. I was gonna check to see if you needed anything. I'm so sorry y/n.” He started walking out of your room but before he could shut the door you stopped him.

“Dean wait!” He turned to look at you. Trying to focus on your face since your pussy was still out on display. “I was calling your name.” Your cheeks started to blush and you don't know where you got the confidence.

“Oh really?” he said with a smirk. “Just what were you thinking about?”

You loved the way his eyes were roaming over your body and you decided to press on. Maybe he could be interested in someone like you.

“Well first, I was thinking about your lips on my neck and your hand slowly moving under my shirt.”

You could see the bulge in his pants growing harder and you saw the way he was running his tongue over his lips. The tongue you were imagining all over your body.

“Is that right?” he said, taking a step closer to you. “Then what?”

“Well then your hand moved down my stomach and slowly removed my underwear”

He was even closer now. You could see the lust in his eyes and it made you even more wet than you were before. He sat at the edge of your bed and very slowly moved his hand toward your thigh. Giving you a chance to pull back, but all you did was spread your legs even further. Showing him even more of yourself. His hand resting on your thigh he lowered his lips to yours. Gently kissing you, very slowly. You deepened the kiss and slid your tongue into his mouth. He groaned and moved down to your neck. Nipping at the flesh there sending tingles down your body. His other hand on your thigh he slowly moved it up. Then his mouth made it's way to your breast, gently licking your nipple til it was hard again. He moved to the other breast rolling his tongue around that nipple too. You always imagined how amazing his tongue would feel but you were way off. Your imagination didn't come close to the real thing. He moved his head lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. He kept his eyes on you when he got down to your clit. He gently licked it and moved his hand up to spread you open. He inserted one finger in while continuing to lick your clit, rolling his tongue in circles. Your moaning got louder and you found yourself panting. His name escaped your lips again, but this time he was really here. You felt your orgasm building again, more powerful then the one your were giving yourself. His fingers thrust into you faster and harder. You could see his hand was dripping with wetness. Upon seeing that and feeling all the sensations at once you lost yourself, cumming all over his hand. Dean stood up his breathing was heavy and his bulge looked uncomfortable. You were still feeling little shock waves when you sat up and moved to the edge of your bed. You look up at him while reaching for the button on his pants. You drag his pants and boxers down together, watching his huge cock spring free. You were impressed by its size and you couldn't wait to taste it. You used your tongue to gently lick up his whole length. After you do it again he starts to groan.

“God y/n that feels so good”

Then you take the tip in your mouth as far in as it will go. You feel it hit that back of your throat and its not even close to fitting all the way it. You use your hand to rub the bottom of his shaft while your moved your head in and out. Once your start picking up the pace his hand grips your hair. Before long he is stopping you.

“You are so good at that, you keep going I'm gonna cum”

He gently pushes you back on the bed and moves in between your legs. “Are you sure you want to do this” he asked.

“Dean, please! Don't keep me waiting!”

That's all it took for him to continue on. He lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You were not used to being with someone so big, you can feel yourself stretching, adjusting to fit all of him in.

“Fuck you are so tight”

Once he's all the way in he slowly pulls back out before pushing himself back in. You are wriggling under him. He is moving too slow for you. “Please Dean, you're just teasing me now.”

He looks down at you with a smile before his picks up his pace, you can feel him surrounding you. Nothing else exists in the world but Dean inside you. You raise your hips to meet his thrusts and you can feel your orgasm building again. You feel the sweat dripping down your face as your breathing grows more erratic. You are biting your lip so hard you feel like your going to draw blood. You hands are wrapped around his back and the closer you get the hard your feel yourself digging your nails in. He doesn't seem to mind, he just thrusts harder and faster. There is nothing left in the world. Just the two of you moving together.

“Fuck, yes Dean! Keep going!”

You finally feel yourself tighten around him while your orgasm rocks your whole body. You've never felt something so amazing. His orgasm slowly follows and his cock twitching inside you is almost enough to make you cum again. He thrusts into you a few more times, riding out his orgasm too. When he is done he collapses on top of you. In that moment you don't want to ever move again.

Then you hear footsteps and see that your door is still open. Sam walks by and glances in your room before his slaps his hand over his eyes.

“Shit guys, closed the fucking door at least! And by the way, its about time.” He reaches for your door knob blindly before pulling it closed. You and Dean can't help but giggle. You haven't laughed so hard in a while.

“Well fuck, can't believe I've lived without that all this time.” Dean says, brushing the sweaty hair out of your face. He climbs off you and flops down next to you. “I don't know about you, but I could use a shower.” He winks at you getting out of bed. He reaches his hand down to you and you take it. Finally, you have everything you want.

@ wecantgiggleitsafandom

#spn fam #spn fanfic #Dean x reader #Dean winchester x reader #spn #spnfamily #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #Dean winchester fanfic #spn one shot #dean fanfic

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suckerfordeansfreckles · 6 years ago

Text

Muffled Sounds

Dean and Cas have been best friends for years, have been working together even longer.

And sometimes, when Dean has had a really bad day, he’s allowed to just drive over to Cas’ place and knock. If Cas is home, they’ll just spend as much time as possible rolled up on Cas’ couch together, not necessarily talking, just being close and breathing and calming down.

Today is a bad day, but when Dean drives over and there’s a car in Cas’ parking spot — because, what? Dean’s car is the only one ever standing there. Cas drives his bike everywhere, the dork — it definitely doesn’t help his mood. Neither does having to go looking for a free spot down the road. Or later, when he has to walk all the way back to Cas’ apartment building. Or later, when the elevator doesn’t work once again, and he has to climb up 6 flights of stairs. Or later, when he raises his hand to knock, and he hears laughter.

Cas’, obviously; his deep chuckle is something Dean will always recognize. But there’s also that sharper, higher laugh. An almost mean one — one that Dean is, unfortunately, also very well accustomed to.

Meg. Meg, from sales. Meg, who’s been very obviously propositioning Cas for weeks. Meg, who stands plastered to Cas, who twirls her hair and flutters her eyelashes whenever she’s around him — and who makes mean jabs at Dean whenever he gets a little too far into Cas’ personal space.

He doesn’t mean to keep listing in on them like a creep, but something in his chest dropped as soon as he realized, bound him to the very place he’s still standing in. There are muffled sounds, and then a thud. Meg, saying something, deep and sultry — and Dean is pretty sure that what he’s feeling somewhere deep in his chest is his heart breaking into pieces.

Dean’s been trying to ignore it for ages, these feelings churning and swirling in his chest whenever he spends time with Cas — but now, well. You can’t very well deny your feelings for your best friend, when you catch him with a girl, and you feel like you’re drowning.

He stays for a while longer, frozen in the hallway of Cas’ apartment complex, but then the voices seem to move closer and Dean’s brain finally comes back online.

He rushes out of the hall, stumbles down the stairs and barely avoids breaking his neck, until he’s all the way behind the row of parked cars. And then he notices what he should have noticed earlier: the car in Cas’ parking spot is so obviously Meg’s dumb convertible, he’s not sure how he missed it.

His eyes sting and he knows he’s being ridiculous, knows he has no right to feel even slightly as jealous as he does — so he stumbles back to his car and drives home, foot maybe a little too heavy on the gas pedal.

The thing is, up until this point, Cas was never with anyone. He hasn’t shown interest in anyone, either, so Dean could keep the thoughts and dreams as quiet as possible in the back of his mind and just tell himself; Cas doesn’t do relationships. He’s just not interested. It isn’t Dean’s fault that Cas never looks at him like… like Dean knows he is looking at Cas most of the time.

He takes the fastest lane home, only makes a quick stop at the liquor store in his street to get a bottle of their cheapest tequila.

As soon as the engine of his car dies down, he rushes inside, throws the door closed behind himself and lets himself really feel. He slumps back against the door, eyes closed and hand clutched around the neck of the bottle.

He can’t make himself do more than that, that night. He drinks until the world goes dizzy for other reasons than his burning eyes, and once he feels sick enough to sleep, he does.

When his alarm goes off the next morning, he grabs for his phone and calls in sick, rolls around, and goes back to sleep.

He knows he’s pathetic, losing his mind over his best friend sleeping with someone else — but it’s really been a bad week. He didn’t need to find out that Cas doesn’t want him the way he wants Cas, on top of everything. And not like that.

Cas calls him three times, but doesn’t leave a message when Dean doesn’t pick up, just shoves his phone deeper under his pillow and ignores its headache-inducing ringing. He doesn’t text back to explain things, either.

When Dean manages to drag his pathetic, hungover ass out of bed, it’s already late evening. He goes for a shower, grabs some food, changes his sheets, and goes back to sleep.

The next day at work, he avoids walking past Cas’ office on the other end of his floor as much as possible.

It works, up until the point where he walks past the break room and catches Cas and Meg, pressed up against each other on a bench, sipping coffee and talking. Dean feels sick all over again, and rushes back to his office.

He doesn’t leave it all day, not until his stomach starts to growl bad enough that Dean can’t focus on anything else.

He grabs his lunch box and slips out and back to the break room, that is, thankfully, heavenly empty. He gets some coffee before sinking down on a bench at the back of the room, taking his first sip and sighing into the steam.

But he barely gets one bite of his sandwich down when someone enters the room, plops down on a chair across from him. He looks up, sandwich drooping in his hands when his eyes fall on — of course, who else — Meg.

He grunts a Hello at her and turns back to his sandwich, tries not to project his feelings onto her. Tries not to get mad at the big, disgusting grin on her face. He fails, hard.

“Deano, what’s going on with you, lately?” she laughs. “All broody and sad. You might need to get laid as badly as Clarence does, huh?”

And that’s it, that’s enough. Dean slams his mug down on the table, lips pressed into a tight line, and finally explodes. “What, you’re telling me you two haven’t worked that out already?”

“Oooh, pretty boy’s jealous, isn’t he?” Meg drawls, and this is it, Dean gets up, ready to leave. “Cas and I did —”

“Meg, I don’t wanna fucking hear about you and Cas, don’t you get it? I can’t - I can’t listen to this,” he breathes, eyes closed.

He turns, but only manages to get a handful of steps between them before a hand closes around his wrist.

“Meg,” he grits, turning back around, ready to really give her a piece of his mind. But then he finds her looking… looking serious, a little worried.

“Wait,” she says, quiet and careful. In the end, that’s what really tips Dean over. He can handle a snarking, bitchy Meg, but this — this is new. He has no idea how to deal with this. So he stops dead in his tracks. And stares back.

“You know there’s no reason to be jealous, right?” she asks, looking at him with something like concern in her eyes.

And — “What.”

Meg watches him, seems to wait for something, but when nothing comes, she sighs heavily, and rolls her eyes as hard as humanly possible and — yes! This is the Meg Dean knows how to handle. “I can’t watch this any longer.”

Her hand drops from his wrist, but then comes back up in a sharp, stabbing finger against his chest.

“He’s in love with you, dumbass,” she snarks, eyes hard. “He’s in love with you, too. So you should really finally go and tell him how you feel. Before you boys break your own hearts even more.”

“What,” Dean repeats, dumb-struck.

“Yes. Cas feels the same way. If anyone knows, it’s me — gotta listen to our boy pining and whining every single day,” she says, and her voice turns lighter again, a twinkle in her eyes as she watches Dean.

“Meg, are you — is this a joke?” Dean stutters, because he can’t let himself feel this — squishes everything down as much as possible until he knows, for sure.

“I know I can be cruel, but that’s too much — even for me. Cas is my best friend, and he deserves good things. Deserves you.”

She moves a step back and just watches again, as Dean finally picks up his jaw and a flush spreads over his cheeks almost as fast as a wide, dazed smile does. “I swear to god,” he whispers as he walks towards the door, eyes still fixed on her. “I swear, Meg, if you’re joking, I will actually kill you.”

And then he leaves his lunch box and his coffee and his gloomy mood and rushes to Cas’ office, finally.

He finds Cas behind his desk, hunched over his computer, typing away with an angry frown.

He looks up as soon as he realizes that someone entered his room, and when his eyes fall on Dean, it seems kind of like a lot of tension falls from his shoulders.

“Dean,” he breathes, a careful smile stretching over his lips. “You didn’t answer my calls yesterday, is everything alright? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Cas. I’m very alright,” Dean says as he steps closer towards Cas, rounds his desk until he’s right in front of him. He can’t stop, feels like a mad man on a mission. “Very, very alright, and very in love with you.”

“Y— what,” Cas chokes, face coloring an endearing shade of pink. “Is this —”

“I’m in love with you, Cas. Have been for way too long,” Dean presses, and then he starts feeling like maybe he just made the biggest mistake of his life. Cas is looking up at him with wide eyes and a red face, and he doesn’t say anything. Not a word.

“Okay,” Dean mumbles, taking a step back out of Cas’ personal space again. “Okay, maybe — okay, I’m sorry. This was a mistake,” he stutters, but then Cas is up and out of his chair, and his arms wrap around Dean’s shoulders as Cas collapses against his chest.

He can’t help it, his arms wrap around Cas on instinct, hands spreading over Cas’ broad shoulders and pulling him even closer.

“Please tell me this isn’t a joke,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s chest, close enough that Dean can barely make it out. “Please tell me Meg didn’t put you up to this.”

“No. No, Meg made me realize — made me, um, feel like I could tell you.”

And then Cas raises his head and his eyes are wet, but that’s the last thing Dean sees before Cas closes the last few inches between them and presses his lips to Dean’s.

The kiss is soft, and warm, and gentle, and everything Dean could have ever wanted.

And it doesn’t stop for ages, not even when Meg comes in to cheer and whistle at them.

When it eventually does, it’s only because their wide smiles keep interrupting it.

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#my writing #destiel #destiel fanfiction #deancas fic #fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #office au #emotional hurt/comfort #pining #jealous Dean #pathetic Dean #Dean drinks to hurt less #love confessions #friends to lovers #first kiss #mentioned Meg/Castiel #but not actually

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