@meadow-melody : I was wondering if you could please Googly eye this one? I understand if you say no but I would be really appreciative and thankful if you did! Bless you and your googly eyes!
@googlyspn : Sam is doing his best chameleon impression, and flies are trembling in fear.
Summary: Jack tells reader he likes her even though she has wings for hands
Characters: y/n, Sam, Dean, Jack
Parings: Jack Kline x reader
Warnings: angst, self-hatred
This is a unbeta’d fictional piece. I do not own anything thing from Supernatural. If you are interested in being a beta please let me know, I would like to get a beta so I can make my fic’s better. Please reblog and comment if you like it or anything else, I write. This was requested by meadow-melody.
@meadow-melody
“This is the bunker y/n,” Sam said. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you need.”
“Thank you, Sam,” you reply. “I will try not to get feathers everywhere.”
“You better,” Dean grunted. “I don’t want to be cleaning up after you.”
After that exchange, Sam leads you down the hallway to the bedrooms. He gave you the room next to the Nephilim Jack. As you walked down the hallway, you made sure no feathers fell off your wings, so you don’t make Dean any grumpier than he already is since he doesn’t want an animal like you living in the bunker with him.
Walking into the room, you see a plain bed brown bed in the center of the room with a desk and chair in the corner. A mirror and dresser flank the other side of the room. It’s small, but it’s the best home you have ever had. While maneuvering around the bed, you find yourself in front of the mirror. You gaze moves up and down your body. Your black talons flex on the floor, and you admire the scales on your legs. The scales are the only part of your body you like. Your chest is pushed out making your breasts appear more prominent than they are. You keep your wings near your body, so you don’t break any of the wooden furniture in the room. From the neck up you look like an average human girl. Your face is small and rounded, and your brown hair is a tangled mess. Since you don’t have hands, there’s nothing you can do about your hair.
Longing fills your chest as you imagine what it would be like to be a normal girl. You could go outside during the daytime without having to worry about being called a bird freak. Your hair would be washed and brushed. You would spend every once of money and time you had looking like the girls you see everywhere. But since you’re a Harpy, you will always be that winged freak. A sigh escapes your mouth, and you attempt to sit on the bed. You end up plopping on the bed more than sitting. The pain of being a freak elopes your chest. Tears try to escape your eyes, but you refuse to show weakness.
KNOCK KNOCK.
“Who’s there?” you reply.
“It’s Jack,” Jack says. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” you reply.
You brace yourself for pity as Jack open the door. Surprisingly, Jack’s face is far from pity like you were expecting. He had this look of fascination.
“Hi,” Jack waves.
“Hi,” you reply. You wave your wing slightly.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I have never heard of a Harpy before, and I was curious,” Jack said. “Do you change forms?”
“It’s okay,” You reply. “No this is my only form.”
“What is it like to have wings for hands?” Jack asks.
“Um, I’m not sure,” you reply. “I have never had hands before so I don’t know how they would compare, but I wish I had hands instead of these ugly wings.”
“Your wings are not ugly!” Jack exclaims. “They are beautiful!”
You study Jack. He seems to be honest, but you know deep down you are not beautiful no matter what he says. You will always be an ugly bird freak.
“Why do you think they're ugly?” Jack asks. He sits next to you and gazes into your eyes.
“Um, because they are big and all they do is break stuff,” you reply. Your eyes move away from his gaze towards the floor. You can feel his eyes pouring into the side of your head.
“They may be big, but they are beautiful,” Jack says. “Can I touch them?”
“Sure,” you reply.
Jack slowly reaches his hand out toward your wing. His fingers graze the tips of your wings, and you feel your wing reach out toward his body. You flinch. While his fingers are on your wing, the wing has a mind of its own. “You feather are so soft,” Jack says. He moves his face to your wing and rubs the feathers on his cheek. Your wing embraces Jack. You pull away as fast as you can, and your wings encase your body.
“Did I hurt you?” Jack questioned. “I am sorry if I did, I didn’t mean too!” His frightened eyes scan yours. You look down and huddle closer into yourself.
“It didn’t hurt,” you reply. “My wings decided to have a mind of its own, and I didn’t like that.”
“Oh, did you not like me touching your wings?” Jack questioned. “If so I won’t do it again.”
You looked up and into his eyes. You know he meant every word he said by how his eyes are looking into yours. It is as if he is trying to gaze into your soul.
“Did you like it?” you thought to yourself. “It was weird, but it wasn’t bad. Why was this boy nice to you? You’re a winged freak; you don’t deserve nice.”
“Why are you nice to me?” you ask.
“I know what it is like to feel like the odd one out because of how you're born,” Jack replies. “I also like you.”
“Why?” you reply.
“Because you're beautiful and smart,” Jack replied.
“I’m not beautiful,” you reply. “I am an ugly winged freak!”
“y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are!” Jack exclaimed. “Don’t say you’re not because you are.”
Jack stared at you. Warmth eloped your chest. You smiled first then he smiled. You still don’t fully believe that you are beautiful, but it helps to know someone does.
