Directions: List your name * Age and Bday * Member you want * Race/Ethnicity * Pronouns *
YOU HAVE TO DM ME YOUR USER IF YOU LEAVE A NAME INSERT OR FIC REC! I WILL NOT SAY THAT IT WAS YOU THAT REQ I JUST SIMPLY NEED IT SO YOU CAN READ THE STORY!
Warnings: Profanity (bc this is the Katsuki Bakugo we’re talking about here)
He looked over at you, with his usual glare. Something was off about you but the spiky haired blonde couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. Was it because you looked so beautiful when the sun shone on those (Hair colour) locks of yours? Or was it because your smile caused his heart to race faster than facing any other villian he’s met? This pissed him off. If he was going to be the Number 1 Hero someday, this sort of mystery should be easy for him. As he was going to make his way towards your desk in the classroom, a certain red-head appeared in his way.
Scoffing, Bakugo stuffed his fists inside his pockets and growled, “What do you want, Kirishima? Can’t ya see I’m busy?” Red eyes bore straight into the other male’s brown ones. Kirishima chuckled and casually slung an arm over the boy’s shoulders. Bakugo’s eyes widened at the boy’s sudden reaction and was about to throw the arm off until he saw a smirk on Kirishima’s face. He frowned. “The hell are you thinking?”
Kirishima chuckled, “So, you like (Name), huh?” Bakugo’s face went red and as he struggled to be freed, the redhead only held on tighter.
The blonde stopped and looked to the side, “Tch, hell no.” However the blush on the male’s face only made Kirishima’s smirk grow even more. Bakugo only ignored the redhead’s smirk and took a sneaky glance at your direction. A soft pounding in his chest began to beat faster when he noticed the big smile on your face. You seemed to be laughing at a joke one of the other female students were telling. A subtle smile itched onto his lips.
“Just go ask her out, bro.” Kaminari came out of nowhere, leaning on Kirishima’s back. “Girls like that: patient, kind, cute, are hard to find. Believe me, literally every girl I met was one or the other.” The electricity student placed a hand on his friend’s broad shoulder, “(Name)’s perfect for you. Don’t let her go.”
Kirishima and Bakugo both looked the boy in surprise. “What?”
“You actually sounded soooo manly, dude!” Kirishima gawked and gave Denki a noogie on the head. Bakugo grunted in agreement, but his eyes glazed over to where you were- wait. Where were you?
“Hey, guys! What are you up to?” A sweet, angelic voice rang beside him. If it weren’t for Kirishima holding him down with his arm, the blonde would’ve accidentally blast himself into the ceiling. Suddenly he was thankful for this redheaded idiot.
Kaminari was the first to react with a friendly smile and wave. Kirishima yelled said, “(Name)! Great timing! We were just talking about- oof!” Bakugo had elbowed Kirishima and stood behind you, scoffing. You raised an eyebrow in confusion at Bakugo, who was acting very strange. For one, he was being quieter than usual and two, he used violence first, not usually something he would do before yelling curses.
You raised an eyebrow and was about to ask when Bakugo suddenly grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the classroom. He wanted to get away from the two idiots as quick as possible, but he also just wanted time with you. Alone. And away from any distractions. The blonde knew you were confused, hell, anyone would be confused in this situation, but he had to let it out sometime.
Once he stopped, which was quite sudden, the boy turned to you with the most determined red eyes you’ve ever seen. The seriousness in his face caused your heart to skip a beat and your face to slowly heat up at the closeness.
“(Name),” he began quietly, very out of character of him, “There’s something....I have to tell you....”
You stayed quiet as your excitement grew as you thought ahead what he was going to say. With a loud swallow, Bakugo opened his mouth....but no words came out. Instead, he cupped your cheek and gazed deep into your (eye colour) orbs. A look of lust was written all over his face.
“Fuck this.” Then with a swift movement, he closed the space between your lips. Your eyes went wide in shock, but didn’t push away. Your mind went into autopilot and began slowly melting into the passionate, yet demanding kiss of Katsuki Bakugo. He wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, wanting more of you; you threw your arms around his neck to bring him closer as well.
However, since there was a thing called oxygen, the two had to break apart. A thread of saliva dribbled on Bakugo’s lip. With two very red faces, but content hearts, you both spoke to each other with your hearts.
“I love you, Katsuki Bakugo.”
“I love you, (Name and Lastname).”
As the two came together for another kiss, the school bell rang, ringing the beginning of class. Bakugo swore while you just giggled and intertwined your hand with his. A smirk/smile appeared on the grouchy boy’s face as he looked down at your beautiful self. Who knew being standoffish than usual was a good way to confess your love?
Summary: Being Loki’s apprentice has its perks. Not really, it’s mostly just Loki using you as a scapegoat for his schemes, until one day when it all goes too far and you decided you’ve had enough.
Realization comes into play.
A/N: As promised, here is the first part of the Loki fanfic I was working on. This is male reader and everything I will write in the future will probably be for male readers only (sorry not sorry).
Please note that I am not a native English speaker. If you find errors (and likely will) please let me know so that I can correct them. I guess I should mention that this is my first fanfic ever. Be gentle. Enjoy!
You closed your eyes as you leaned back against a stone pillar, enjoying the warmth of the remaining sun rays Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it was your way of urging your tense shoulder muscles to relax. It was a lovely moment to enjoy after an equally lovely day and here you were feeling warm, full and overall content with life, happily basking in the warmth of the setting sun. You were sitting in your favorite spot, overlooking the palace’s gardens, surrounded by the subtle scent of flowers and freshly cut grass.
It was not a particularly eventful day, but you have spent the day doing your favorite things: reading, visiting your family, drawing and riding through the woods on your faithful steed. This was your day off after all, and you could do whatever you damn well pleased. It could not have gone any better though, you were overall happy with how everything turned out. Yet you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease, as if something was about to happen or perhaps something was missing. Even so, you tried to brush it off, it was good to have a day for yourself without someone barking orders at you, throwing you murderous glances and asking you to fetch things every five minutes, like a dog. Your hand closed into a tight fist as your mind wandered, although briefly, to that one particular person who could ruin your day before they even opened their mouth to speak.
Said person was none other but the youngest prince of Asgard. The raven-haired godling, the master of mischief and chaos, the rude, arrogant, inconsiderate, lying little... alright you get the idea. It was Loki, brother of Thor, son of Odin and Frigga, master of the arcane arts, and an excruciating pain in your arse. Ever since you had become his apprentice, because for some reason he was allowed to have one, (something about finding those gifted in spell-craft) your days have become a constant running around like a headless chicken, obeying Loki’s every order just so you could prove yourself worthy of his time. And that was not even the worst part, no, the worst part was that he would often ask, well more like demand that you be part of his schemes and plans which would often backfire and that is when he used you as his scapegoat.
You were beyond frustrated with the situation and were actively looking for a way to get out of the arrangement, you could no longer stand him; barking orders here and there, asking you to fetch him his quill and parchment or Norns know what long forgotten book on the highest shelf in the library. You didn’t feel like an apprentice anymore, you felt like a servant at best and a slave at worst. He simply had no interest in teaching you advanced spells or found better use of you as a servant. As if he didn’t have enough. Still, he always told you how he found your company tolerable so you stuck around and tried to be understanding, hoping.. hoping he would find you worthy enough to spare some of his precious time to teach you.
All these tasks and requests passed onto you and you’ve never once said no. All in hopes that he will see your worth, skill and dedication. You knew there was no better mentor than him, you have seen him at work many times, he had no rival when it came to the arcane arts. You were eager to learn, to work your hardest to reach at least half of his level, but the teaching that you expected never came.
The sad part was that, you have always admired the young prince as you grew up, you were fascinated by his magical and combat abilities. In your eyes, he was the perfect prince, wielding both weapons and magic, making him the best battle mage Asgard has ever seen. And that was Loki. Of course, Loki was chaos, he was mischief, he was the lie smith of the realm, turning words, thoughts and heads wherever he went. No one trusted him, not anymore, and they all condemned him for the ill use of magic. Loki was under no circumstance evil though, but he was mischievous. You suppose he couldn’t help himself, knowing everything that he does, one would be wise to use that knowledge to their advantage. Loki was a scheming little shit and always the opportunist. What’s not to admire? Sadly, no one kept record of all the fun pranks Loki has pulled over the years, some plain cruel, some plain hilarious nor of his achievements or failures. No one kept a record but you, in a small journal that served as your own personal history book where you wrote down the most significant events in your life. It just happened that every fifth page or so, Loki would be mentioned. Loki and his jokes, Loki and his laugh, Loki and his achievements, Loki and his failures. Loki and his stupid smirk. The smirk that he gives you whenever he’s about to do something clever or mischievous. And you can’t help but picture those perfect lips on-- No.
But now, now you just wanted to erase all of that. It felt as if you were losing all the respect you had for the young prince. He did nothing but humiliate you, treat you like a dog and make you follow him everywhere, just to make you feel almost invisible as soon as he was engaging in a talk with someone else. He invited you to join him for feasts, having you sit by his side at all times, ignoring your very existence yet glaring at everyone who dared speak to you. You were tired of it, you were tired of feeling beneath him. Prince or not, nobody treated you this way, nobody should be allowed to treat anyone like this.
In the beginning it was innocent. A little joke here and there, small pranks pulled on his brother and friends, you were more than happy to be part of it, it was good fun. Lately, however, all these plans and schemes often included searching for valuable information, manipulating people and even stealing. You no longer wanted to be a part of it, and if it meant giving up on your dream to become a great mage under Loki’s tutelage, then so be it.
A sharp, stinging pain in your arm brought you back from the little daydream-turned-nightmare, quickly bringing your hand to your chest in a protective manner. But before you could see a possible wound, the black raven next to you flapped its wings a few times and took off. Had the raven just pecked you? It hurt, nothing was bleeding but it stung. You sat up quickly, rubbing the tender, reddening spot on your hand, eyebrows furrowed in anger as you glanced once more over the gardens and turned around to make your way home. Tomorrow would be another painfully slow day at Loki’s side. The thought of it made you dread the morrow, your walk home suddenly slowing down considerably.
“(Y/N)?” You stopped in your tracks, you knew that voice. You knew it so well you dreaded it at every corner. Your whole frame tensed as you straightened your back and turned around once more, putting on your best smile. “My prince.” You greeted stiffly.
“I have a request for you and I need it done immediately.” The prince asked, your eye almost twitching at the word request. “So sorry, my prince. So silly of me, but I was under the impression that this was to be my day off, to spend it however I pleased. I am sure that whatever it is, can wait until tomorrow.” You explained as politely as possible, your cheek muscles straining to keep up the smile. But you let it drop as soon as you’ve noticed the other open his mouth again.
“Well, I do not see you doing anything remotely interesting with your free time, feels like a waste, does it not?”. The prince answered calmly, your anger threatening to burst. “What would you have me do for you then?” You asked in an annoyed tone. Loki grinned. “I will handle it, it is your day off after all.” He said as he brushed past you and walked away, his green cloak flapping in the wind as he walked graciously, your gaze following him, burning a hole through the back of his head. “Loki? What is it that you wanted me to do?”. You asked once more, curiosity getting the better of you. “Enjoy your day off.” He spoke as kept walking, ignoring your question completely. You frowned and clenched your fists. You wanted nothing more than to punch that smug expression off his pretty face. Before you knew it, your feet were moving rapidly, stalking behind the god to catch up with him. By the time you were at his side, you noticed him smirking knowingly. “I knew you couldn’t resist. You cannot say no to me, can you (Y/N)? You never say no to me. Precious thing that you are.” He spoke softly, that blasted smirk never leaving his lips, but you knew better.
“It appears so, my prince. What can I do for you?”. “I need your help with something that will require a bit more subterfuge than usual, are you up for it?” He asked, and you took a deep breath, your anger simmering down. You hated it when he used that sweet voice of his, the voice of ‘I always get what I want’. “What would you have me do, my prince?” You addressed him by his title which caused a small spark to form into the other’s eyes as he heard it, unfortunately it went completely unnoticed by you.
You could never make eye contact with the other for long, Loki’s gaze was hypnotizing more often than not and made you feel trapped, almost spellbound. It was silly, of course, why would he use a spell to bind you to him and his will, at the end of the day you could do what you wanted, you could say no to him. In fact, you just did but changed your mind because for some reason you did not care to investigate further, he always managed to stir your curiosity. The raven-haired God grinned, lips stretching into a toothy grin. Oh yes, there was pure mischief in that smile.
“Follow me, we should speak of it in private, for all we know, the shrubbery could have ears”. He chuckled and began walking towards the palace at steady pace. You followed quietly in his steps, watching the other’s graceful form as it moved.
Head held high, back straight, confidence in his steps, he was of royal blood, there was no question there, but you could always tell that Loki always had at least an extra ounce of grace compared to his brother and the rest of the warriors. Loki always looked his best, he was always clean and smelling pleasantly, not a single hair out of place on his head. Clearly, he prized his own image and there was nothing wrong with that. Loki had many admirers just for that fact alone.
As you walked in his steps, your nose caught a whiff of something fresh and flowery. Speaking of nice scents, Loki never failed to make himself known by scent alone. You never could place the scent though, it was flowery and fresh but smelling like no flower known to you.
When you reached Loki’s chambers, he made a quick move to close the door but not before peeking outside to make sure no one was around, the guards patrolling the hallway would not stop at his door, thankfully. You found yourself in the familiar chambers where you were forced to spend quite a copious amount of time, being Loki’s dog, but in spite of that, you have never seen his actual bedroom or anything personal. This was just a medium sized chamber that served as a small study and living area full of bookshelves. There were piles of scrolls, books and half opened letters laying about on the small tea table and sofa.
No matter how much you tried to organize Loki’s study room and keep it tidy in the time he was not giving you anything to do, somehow those books always found themselves out of the shelves and back into places they did not belong. You did not question it, the servants who cleaned the room did not question it. You smiled as you saw Loki’s desk, always in pristine condition and never cluttered with anything unnecessary. The God was a mystery you.
You snapped out of your little inspection as the God cleared his throat and you turned around to face him, offering him a small smile. “You have been very loyal to me in the past years (Y/N). Here is what I need you to do for me. And do not interrupt me until I am finished speaking.” He put up two fingers in sign for the other to keep his mouth shut.
You sighed and took a seat on the brown settee next to you, crossing your legs and leaning back, ready to listen to the other.
“Thor’s recent stupid escapade to Jotunheim has made me question his ability to rule. You’ve seen it too, the recklessness, the childish behavior. It is not what should make the future king of Asgard. But more than that, it has made me question Odin’s true intentions with the frost giants. To be more specific, I saw something while on Jotunheim, something that needs further investigation. It is crucial for the safety of this Kingdom. I need answers, which I will likely not get from Odin or any of them for that matter. Do you know what lays underneath the palace? The vaults. Odin keeps all his artifacts and trophies there, I saw them briefly. We will get in there tonight. I will investigate what I need to, and we will get out, unseen. Questions? There better not be, since I was pretty clear.” You stared at the God, the gears in your head turning as you processed everything he was saying.
Yes, you knew about the nearly started war in Jotunheim, it happened very recently in fact. They said that prince Thor is awaiting punishment from the Allfather for his recklessness. Likely such an action will not earn him a swat on the hand. Loki was right in that aspect, Thor had been rather reckless and arrogant in his dealings with the frost giants, letting himself be goaded into a fight.
“When do we start?” You asked, your enthusiasm showing in your smile as you leaned forward as you expected the other to tell you a secret. You mentally beat yourself as you decided to go along with another one of his schemes, having a terrible feeling about how this might turn yet you could not help yourself, not when you saw that glint of mischief and amusement in his eyes. Loki approached you, reaching for a scroll next to the sofa, unrolling it before you so that you could see what looked to be a map of the palace’s underground. You followed his movements carefully, listening to every word he said attentively.
However, you found yourself unable to take your eyes off those thin lips moving as he explained the plan in detail, giving you instructions on what you have to do. You found your thoughts drifting as the lovely flowery scent hit your nostrils again, inhaling it deeply. Your thoughts deviated for a moment, imagining yourself caressing those perfectly chiseled cheekbones, running your hand over the smooth pale flesh just to feel its chill, gazing into those endless pools of green and finally, kissing those thin, sweet lips. The god was gorgeous, there was no denying that now. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve never touched him except for a slight brush of fingers when handing him the requested items.
Each time, Loki felt cold to the touch, but you never questioned it. “(Y/N), are you listening? (Y/N). “. As you heard your name you snapped out of reverie, flushing slightly as you met the god’s annoyed glare. “I... I... yes Loki, I... could you please repeat? I am sorry.” The god sighed but did not comment on your sudden slip, deciding instead to explain once more. This time you did not lose focus and agreed with everything Loki has planned out.
“Will the spell work?” You asked curiously. “The thing about invisibility spells is that they do not technically make you invisible, they create an illusion for the rest of the eyes present, without you in it. It’s as simple as that. And yes, it will work, remember who you’re speaking to.” He answered firmly, leaning into your personal space as he snatched the scroll from your hands. “I expect you to have memorized that. I am not letting you carry possible evidence with you.” He added. “May I ask...” You started but was bluntly cut off by the God. “You may not, I do not have time for idle chatter, now move along. It is almost midnight.” You sighed and nodded.
You slowly exited the room, closing the door behind you as quietly as you could. Your steps were light and almost soundless as you made your way through the corridors and down the stairs towards the dungeons. You kept your breath steady and even, focusing on your each step, not wanting to clumsily stumble or bump into something, or someone. Your senses were on high alert and you felt on edge every time you approached a patrolled area. You passed a few guards on the way, but none seemed to pay much attention to you. They were used to seeing you wander aimlessly through the corridors at odd hours while carrying out Loki’s requests, nobody bothered to question you. Why should today be any different?
You decided to help Loki with this new plan of his, feeling a bit anxious at the thought of being included in one of his schemes again. You were well-aware that if this fails, it will be on you. However, you could not stop thinking about your earlier thoughts about the God. Where did that come from? You’ve been so fed up and frustrated with his behavior that the sudden change of heart in you made absolutely no sense. You weren’t sure if this was due to your own frustrations manifesting into something akin to desire or something else entirely. But you wanted to find out.
A/N: I wrote this in one sitting. Crazy. Anyways, this idea was provided to me by a nonnie, so thanks for that.
Also, if you want any music to listen to, here’s a song that I like to listen to while I write. It’s pretty much instrumental, but it gets me emotional anyways haha. You - Petit Biscuit.
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The relief hit you like a truck. Or a train. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.
The relief envelopes you like an emotional but warm blanket. It fills you up from inside. Radiates from you. Touches and colors your everything.
You lose your breath. The paper you’re holding onto is slightly trembling because you are.
This is it; the paper you're holding onto. The sweet escape. Sam’s sweet escape. Sam’s safety reassured in printed words. The ticket to his new life. The ticket out of yours.
You just stand there for a while. Quiet, letting the relief and all the thoughts that comes with it wash over you. You wait until they collect themselves. Until they make sense. And then finally, you look up and see Sam.
Your baby brother is standing before you. Sweet little Sammy. That’s not so little anymore. And you let proudness over him overtake you and blend in with the relief.
He’s watching you with round eyes. Round, hazel, puppy dog eyes — as you call the expression. He looks so vulnerable and small, even though he’s quite a lot larger than you in size — stronger, faster, and all. Like he’s both a few years younger and a few feet shorter. You’ve seen that look quite a few times before. But you’ve never gotten used to it, not to how soulful his eyes looked. They could melt you in an instant. And Sam knows it. But this isn’t one of those moments. In this moment, he’s vulnerable, and scared and he just wants you to support him, to give him reassurance. That’s all he’s hoping for.
You put him out of his misery by finally speaking up.
”Sam,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly. ”This is amazing.”
Your eyes sting as you look at him, you can feel them filling with tears.
”Dammit.” You whisper before quietly chuckling a little bit, wiping your tears that are about to leave your wet eyes.
But when you really look at Sam, you see that his eyes are tear-filled as well. He emits gratitude.
”Thank you.” He speaks sincerely and your heart clutches by the fact that he even has to say that.
”So, what?” John roars, his words cutting through the tension of the room. ”You’re leaving this family? You don’t care about us, son?”
Sam winces by the power in your father’s voice. By the anger glistening in his dark eyes. Dean looks down at his feet. You swallow nervously as your chest aches.
While Sam stares at Dad, and then finally at Dean — his big brother — you can practically see how his world is coming crashing down. He looks so helpless, and sad, and angry and just crushed. Defeated. Betrayed. And all you want is to wipe that away from his face. Because when Sam’s world is coming crashing down, yours are too. Because Sam is your world. He and Dean both. It’s always been like that. And now, when they are on opposite sides, standing for two different ideas, views of life even — it’s hard. Who do you help?
”Dad…” You try to interject, stepping forward. He just waves you off, all focus on his youngest, the 18-year old in the room.
”You’re abandoning us, Sam.” He spits through gritted teeth. ”After everything we’ve done for you? You should be grateful, you useless little piece of —”
”Dad!” You cut him off harshly. You stare at him, feeling anger rise within you. You try to nail his gaze, but he refuses to look at you.
”No, you know what?” Sam starts, and you know he’s about to speak back at John. And that never ends well. ”I am grateful. But I just want to go to school. In what world is there anything wrong with that? Huh? A normal dad would be proud!”
”This is your life Sam! Hunting! You have a responsibility. This is your duty, boy!” John argues, one hand clenched into a fist, the other one pointing threateningly at Sam.
You throw Sam a warning glance, as to tell him not to provoke your father even more. But he does.
”That’s where you’re wrong, Dad.” Sam slightly shakes his head as he clenches his jaw. ”I’m not — we’re not — your little soldiers. Hunting is what you want. It’s you that dragged us into that. But this life is mine, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it.”
You momentarily peel your eyes away from Sam and Dad, searching for support in Dean. But your other little brother only meets your eyes for a second until he looks away. Dean has paled remarkably, there’s not even a trace of his characteristic freckles. He’s obviously in misery, seeing his family coming undone just like it is right now. You just wish he would do something about it, even though you at the same time understood why he didn’t. Dean’s always been the one who trusted John the most. And now he doesn’t know what to do.
So, you take matters into your own hands. Just as Dad take a step closer to Sam, about to start another verbal attack, you step in between them.
”Dad, calm down for god’s sake!” You yell at him, voice surprisingly stable. You stare up at him, glance hard and cold. ”Stop right there.”
”No, (Y/N), back off. This is between me and your brother.” John speaks with a warning tone. It sends chills down your back but you do your best to ignore them.
”No.” You instantly defy him.
Before your dad can retort, Sam speaks up again. He doesn’t like being benched, no, this was his fight. His riot.
”I’m done.” He states in a forced calmness. You can tell he’s nailing Dad with his stare over your head. ”I’m leaving.”
From behind Dad, Dean looks up, hurt expression over his features as he watches Sam pick up his duffle bag from the floor.
John himself takes this as a queue. He quickly steps forward, trying to get to Sam. It all goes so fast, but you try your best to keep him away from your youngest brother, who stares at his father with round eyes. Dean steps in and hold John back, which ultimately is what keeps him from getting to Sam.
Sam stares at Dean who holds John back with a fist full of his jacket in both hands. His green eyes are wide and emotional, and you can tell that he doesn’t want Sam to go. Sam finally rips his gaze away and stare at John, until he decides that he doesn’t want to look at the man anymore. Then he looks at you.
You look up at him — all meanwhile you’re still helping Dean hold John back — and slowly nod, once. Do you, Sam. Go ahead and do what you want.
Sam slowly nods back, then he turns to the door. But John isn’t finished.
”If you walk out that door, boy, don’t you ever come back!” He roars at him, and he means it.
Sam stops and looks at his father. And he looks even more defeated than before. This was it. The final nail in the coffin, one last hurtful thing Dad threw at him. And then he lurches around, opens the door, and runs out into the night.
You watch him go and your heart clenches. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This is the worst possible outcome, in fact. Sam had provoked Dad, but he should have never thrown him out like that.
You turn to John in anger. By now Dean has released his grip slightly, as the argument was over and John had won. Or, well, there weren’t any winners, but John had gotten in the last strike.
”What the hell, Dad!” You exclaim in anger, and then you push him back, hard. He stumbles back. ”What the hell have you done, you bastard!” You simply can’t contain yourself.
Your dad is taken back, but he counters fast. Before you know it, your whole head is thrown to the side, and there’s a white, hot, pain across your cheek.
He had hit you. You clutch your cheek as you blink slowly, surprised.
”Dad!” Dean yells, to your surprise, as he grabs ahold at John, who’s blinded by rage.
But you don’t stay to hear the rest. Instead, you turn to your own duffle bag, which’s luckily only a couple of feet away from you, and rip up a piece of fabric. And then, you take off, just like Sam had done.
Outside, you train your eyes in the dark, trying to spot Sam. You do — there’s a tall silhouette hurriedly walking across the parking lot of the motel, reaching the further corner of it.
You instantly start running towards him. You actually feel a bit dizzy and wobbly, probably from John’s blow, but you push on. You have to reach Sam.
”Sam!” You howl, catching his attention. He turns around at stops walking.
You slow down when you’re close enough and come to a stop. Now you’re standing a few feet away from him.
”I’m sorry,” you say, as gently as you can. ”Damn it, I’m really sorry, Sammy.”
Sam nods, and you can see that he’s trying to keep his emotions under check. He fails, and tears pour over — which he angrily wipes away with the back of his hand.
”’Not your fault.” He finally mutters, as he keeps staring out into the forest surrounding the parking lot and motel. You know why he does that, because if he looks at you, he is going to full on cry.
It’s quiet for a moment, and then you remember the piece of fabric in your hand. It’s a Stanford sweatshirt. You had gotten it as a present to him after he told you the news — which was two nights ago. Huh, feels like an eternity ago.
”Sam.” You state, and he’s forced to look at you. When he does, you hold up the shirt, and take a step forward. ”I got this for you.”
Sam’s face lights up in awe once the shirt was placed in his hands, and he inspects it. And, just like that, he once again looks a lot younger. ”T-thank you.”
”No problem.” You smile.
Although Sam’s eyes are still on the shirt, so he doesn’t see. Instead, his finger is tracing the red, block letters. ”Wait, how much did it cost?”
”Don’t worry about that.” You reassure him.
”(Y/N), we both know that we don’t have a lot of—” He looks up at you and his voice just sort of dies out.
You furrow your eyebrows, and then you realize what it is. What you didn’t notice, was that when you moved closer to Sam, light from the streetlight of the parking lot fell onto your face, and revealed the red mark on your cheek.
One of Sam hands lets go of the sweatshirt, and reaches up to your cheek, his fingertips barely touch you. ”Did he hit you again?”
You slowly nod, but that’s not important.
”Sam,” you say as you see how his hazel eyes — that in this lightning look chocolate brown — glimmer dangerously. ”Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle it.”
Sam scoff and looks away again. He clutches the sweatshirt tighter in his hands, you see his knuckles whitening. Then he looks at you again.
”Come with me to Stanford. Please?” He pleads. He’s desperate for company, he’s never been on his own before. He wants his trusted and beloved big sister to come with. You, the one that’s always been there for him. ”Dean can come with too.” He adds for further persuasion. He wants his best friends with him and his dad alone.
The offer is tempting, you got to admit. But eventually, you shake you head.
”Why?” Sam asks, and he looks a little bit hurt.
”I’ve gotta stay here, Sam. Take care of Dean and Dad. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid, you know the drill.”
Sam stares at his feet.
”This is your dream, Sam. Me? I’m only good for this, hunting. Go live your life, you deserve it.”
Your little brother is about to object, but you give him a hard look.
”You got out, Sammy. Take the opportunity.”
”Fine.” He ultimately says, speaking quietly. He nods, and then he meets your eyes again.
”And… and don’t worry about Dean and Dad. They’re just hurt. They’ll get over it.” You reassure him, reaching out and taking his bigger hand. ”Otherwise, I’ll make them.”
Through the dark you — for a second — see dimples and white teeth flashing as Sam laughs a little bit.
”Now.” You begin. ”I want you to go and concur Stanford, okay? Show ’em what you got for me.” You try to lighten the mood.
Sam smiles and nods. ”Yeah. I’ll try.”
”Good Sammy-boy.”
Then you step forward and hug him. He wraps his long arms around you, and hides his face in your hair, bending his neck. You gently pat his back.
”I’ll miss you.” He mumbles into your ear. His words are raw, sincere and sad.
”It’s okay. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll call. And, if I have time in-between hunts, I’ll most likely stop by. Expect me to.” A grin tugs at the corners of your lips.
”Hope you do.” Sam looks at you with a trace of the infamous puppy eyes.
It’s quiet for a moment, and you just kind of looked at Sam. Taking in his features. Because who knows how he’ll look when you see him the next time. Maybe he would have cut his hair? Bulked up? Gotten tattoos? Grown a beard? Gotten even taller? Piercings? Or maybe he’ll just look the same.
”Please don’t get yourself killed while I’m gone.” Sam’s words bring you back to the moment. He looks at you, scared. Now also full on sporting the puppy dog eyes. ”I don’t want to get a c-call saying—” His voice is too strangled to continue.
”You won’t.” You promise. ”I’ll be careful. We’ll all be safe, okay?”
Sam nods.
”I’m proud of you Sam. You’ve gotten so far. Who knew you would get into Stanford, squirt.” You smile at him.
He chuckles, blushing slightly. ”Thank you.”
”Now, get moving. Get your ass over there, and make me even more proud. If that’s possible.”
”Yeah. Okay.” Sam agrees. ”Oh, and tell Dean I’ll miss him too, would you?”
You nod. ”Of course.”
Then you reach up, standing on your tippy toes, and give Sam a quick peck on his cheek. Then you ruffle his hair while you’re at it. And then, you grab him by the shoulders and turn him around, giving him a slight push in the right direction. He starts walking that way with a chuckle.
He casts a final look over his shoulder, smiling lovingly. You smile back. And then you just stand there, watching him go.
The relief comes back and settles in your chest, providing a certain warmth. And you know this is right. Sam got out. He’ll be fine. He’ll be safe. He’ll be happy. And you couldn’t be more happy for him.
