summary: Tensions have been on the rise between yourself and the younger Winchester brother. As the pressure mounts, the need for a release becomes more and more apparent. Though you both refuse to see it, it cannot be ignored forever.
pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader genre: not quite enemies-to-lovers
notes/warnings: hair falling in face, height difference (not specific, but the moose is taller), fade to black romance, fighting to...well... I'll let you fill in the rest
Voices thundering together in a chorus of echoes, your argument with Sam rattled and refracted off the alabaster tile lining the walls.
One thing you’ve come to recognize since coming to live in the bunker, the walls are very thin. Bordering on criminally so, in your humble opinion. Which makes you wonder why Dean hasn’t come to break up your disagreement yet. Well, just calling it a disagreement might be a bit generous. This was a fight, and though it remained purely verbal, it had been building for months, simmering under the surface like a pot waiting to boil when it won’t be seen. You and Sam had fought before. Little snipes at each other here and there when the other would turn their back, which would evolve into little tiffs that ultimately would solve nothing.
These inconsequential and often ridiculous arguments born of nothing more than misunderstanding and poor word choice would serve no purpose other than to leave you both frustrated, in more ways than one, and Dean playing the unwitting referee.
In truth, Sam didn’t even know what this latest argument was really about. It began with him showing concern for your well being. At least that is how he would describe it. You would probably give a very different appraisal of his intentions. One thing he does know is that he would do just about anything to wipe that damned smirk off of your face.
Yes, let the record show, Sam Winchester does not like to lose. Growing up with a brother like Dean so close in age and with his at times headstrong personality, Sam was used to debates, and more importantly winning them. At one point in his life, he even wanted to practice law, a profession in which he would quite literally argue for a living. But upon meeting you, it seemed all of his training was for naught. He just can’t seem to form a coherent point to save his own life. It’s gotten so bad that he has resigned himself to not looking at you out of necessity, choosing instead to lock his gaze slightly above your head like a child with stage fright in order to even have a fighting chance at a rebuttal. Your obstinance was simply too distracting. But he’d be damned again before he let you know that.
“So what, Winchester? You’re not even going to look at me?” you demand, hands gesturing to emphasize your question before returning to their new found home on your hips with a huff of annoyance. Sam would never hurt you. You knew this intimately. Hell the only reason you were even arguing to begin with was the ‘unnecessary’ risk you took on the last hunt that left you with a nasty gash to your upper arm. Sure it looked pretty rough and needed a few well placed stitches, but when thinking about how that blow had been meant for Sam, aimed to mangle or worse, there was no doubt in your mind that the choice you made was worth it.
If Sam was honest with himself for even a moment, he would be forced to admit that the sight of your stubborn defiance did more to kindle his lust than anything else. Fanning a flame burning underneath his skin that he continued to fight tooth and nail in vain to control. Admitting to himself that these feelings existed would break his one rule. The one he clung to that held the chain together around his heart, protecting him from being hurt again like a weathered shield in battle. He has protected this boundary for years, and for good reason, in his mind. Since Jessica, since Madison, since Ruby and the tangled up mess of torn tissue and regret that she left in her wake. It was evident to Sam that he wasn’t meant to be happy, at least not in that way. He could have one night stands to his heart’s content, but they could never fill the void left in his soul, inflicting within him this aching emptiness of dissatisfaction and reopening a forever weeping wound that would seemingly never heal. He would never do that to you. He would never allow you to become a part of his rot. If Sam was to cross that line, it would have to mean to you even a fraction of what it would mean to him. Seeing this as a veritable impossibility, Sam resigned himself to the purgatory he built within his own mind, trapped between his devotion for you and desiring nothing at all, accepting your anger and frustration as a poor substitute for the passion he would never allow himself to even ask for, much less receive.
“Call me Winchester again…,”he started, quickly thinking better of making his empty threat, “All I’m saying is you should let the real hunters handle it before you get yourself killed!” Sam knew as soon as he said it that he went too far. The bitter taste on his tongue, tinged with the acidic burn of regret, lingered long after the words left his lips. The stunned silence on your part leant credence to just out of line he had been.
“What did you just say to me?” you ask, head pulling back on your shoulders like a venomous serpent preparing to strike at the moment of weakness. An ominous edge to your words that sent chills running in his blood. Watching you move with rapt attention, Sam can only attempt to anticipate you as you move, steadily advancing like a creeping death threatening to swallow him whole in your rage.
He takes a few steps back to try to create some distance between himself and the oncoming storm that he can work with. His retreat is halted in its tracks when his back meets the immovable cool metal of the refrigerator door, finding no ground left to surrender.
Though his withdrawal was halted, you show no sign of stopping. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you would do once you reached Sam. You knew the brothers often solved their disputes through physical violence. You also knew you could throw a decent punch, especially with your anger to fuel you. But one thing you knew above all else was that you would never hit Sam, no matter how frustrated he made you. That didn’t mean you would let his attitude slide though. Not by a long shot.
Upon reaching Sam, you raise your hand to clutch the collar of his shirt, but something stops you. In a matter of seconds, Sam catches your hand in midair, spinning your bodies together in one smooth dancelike motion, leaving you pinned between the unforgiving cold metal door and the searing heat of his muscled chest. Looking up from your new position to meet his eyes, it is easy to see that you have changed places, both physically and figuratively, from stalking toward him like a predator to becoming his prey.
In his gaze there is something different than rage. Something molten and gravitational in its passion that lacks all the malice of rage. This was the opposite of unbridled fury, as it sought to retain too much control, clawing endlessly in vain to maintain its grasp on the reins. The desire in his eyes was so intense, it left you speechless in its wake. The electric current running through your bodies was palpable, arcing through the hand he still hadn’t remembered to let go of.
It seemed Sam was experiencing the same static charge as he broke the stare, only for a moment, to glance at your fingers still held firmly in his grasp before flicking his attention back to you, though not holding them there faithfully. In the moments that felt like an eternity but could have only been a minute at the very most, you watched as his hazel eyes jumped from your eyes to your lips and then back again. Once, twice, and then again, almost as if asking you to use your will to do what he could not. To end his torment with an act of your own that would send you both tumbling happily into oblivion.
Tired of the waiting and emboldened by the roaring surge of ardent need kindled in your earlier argument, you make your move as if by instinct alone. Tilting your head and rising onto the balls of your feet, you stretch slightly to close the distance between the two of you, gently at first as if testing the waters of this new experience.
Alarm bells chimed in symphony inside Sam’s brain, warning of the impending danger he was hurtling toward by allowing himself to have this, to get too close. But at that moment, he was sure that he could not have cared any less if he tried.
With all of the fervor of a man so often denied, Sam returned the kiss, moving to press your hand still in his grasp to the door above your head, entwining his fingers with your own. The flood gates had been opened. What followed was a frenzy, a gnashing of tongues and teeth. A veritable explosion of all of the pent up fury and passion you had both felt in secret for so long but avoided acknowledging for fear of the cosmic repercussions. A beast you had both created but refused to name.
Sam’s other hand found purchase on the crest of your hip. A comfortable spot of skin where your shirt had ridden up in the earlier struggle, it was warm to the touch from the raging fire within. His thumb gently kneaded the flesh while he used the grip of his fingers to pull you ever closer, arching your back and slotting a knee between your legs to further weave your bodies together.
Breaking the kiss for only a moment, Sam’s hand above your head breaks the connection, moving steadily down to move a piece of hair from your face. Tenderly, he laces his fingers into your hair cradling your cheek. As he looks you over, it is plain to see that he has been overtaken, pupils blown wide swallowing his hazel irises with lust. You allow yourself to nuzzle into his delicate grasp, the skin roughened by years of work and the scar that still crisscrossed his palm as a symbol of all of the pain he had endured in his past that still refused to let him go. You turn your head slightly in his hold to be able to plant a soft kiss to the marred flesh as if to soothe it, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment before returning to meet his again. Lost in each other’s embrace, you had no idea that you were no longer alone.
“Finally!” Dean’s voice thundered from the kitchen doorway, shattering the intimate moment like glass on impact. “It was getting to be like a bad soap opera in here. Just not on the table, guys, please? People do eat here.”
Sam stumbled back from you out of surprise, leaving you to mourn the loss of his warmth.
Sensing the unease as he rounded the corner into the kitchen behind Dean, Cas asked, “Did I miss something?” For an other-worldly being, he seemed to have the comedic timing of a trained professional.
Chuckling to himself at the positively wicked idea brewing in his head, Dean replied, “Yeah. Sammy will explain it to you later,” before leaving, tossing a, “Have fun, you two!” over his shoulder as he pulled Cas from the room by the collar of his trench coat.
Finally alone again, Sam returns his attention to you, eyes wide and still slightly panting from the earlier excitement that his brother had so thoughtlessly interrupted.
“We’re going to have to talk about this, aren’t we?” Sam asked, not sounding at all interested at the prospect. Having to put words to what just happened, to what he felt, seemed a Herculean task when his head was still spinning, and all he wanted to do was pick up where you had left off.
“Probably. But that can wait,” you reply, slowly dragging a palm down his chest, making sure to press just hard enough to rake your nails over the barely restrained muscle, drawing out the slightest hint of delicious pain. “Right, Winchester?”
𖤍: Greetings, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this one-shot. If you have any requests, please send me a request. I'd love to hear from you! :) Also, please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list so you never miss an update!
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the dividers used! ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
A/N: It’s been ages. I’m not going to use my taglist, because idk if they all still wanna be on it. But, I was feeling smutty. And daydreaming about this little one shot all day. I can’t begin to describe how good it felt to put it on the computer. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3
PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.
*Gif not mine*
Warnings: Oral sex- female receiving. No plot, really. Short sweet, and straight to the point. No real editing. Read at your own discretion.
Word Count: Roughly 1,000
"Sammy!" Dean waved his meaty palm directly in front of glossy, shadow rimmed hazel eyes. Catching the taller, youngest man's attention finally. "Come on, man. What's gotten into ya, Sammy?"
"I really need you to drop the nickname, Dean." Was the answering groan. Large, calloused fingers rubbed over a too straight nose. One that somehow had been spared in the chaos of hunting. Attempting to clear his head from the memories assaulting him.
"Yeah, okay." The elder of the two huffed. Bringing his mug of jet black sludge to his pouty lips. Caffeine to counter the night of driving they'd undergone. "This 'bout that girl back east?"
"What girl?" Those hazel eyes whipped back to the menu. A smug smile tugging the corner of his dimple.
It was definitely about the girl. But Sam would drop dead before giving his brother the dirty details. Just under twenty four hours ago she'd walked in and wrecked everything he'd thought he'd known. About her. About himself. About sex. God, the sex. His fist shook against his thigh as his mind traveled back to it all.
Dean had ditched him and y/n at the bar. On the prowl for his own piece of ass. One shot of tequila was all it took for Sam to get brave. He'd grabbed her hand, tugging the quietest girl he'd ever met out into the snow chilled air.
They hadn't made it far. Sam's room was right around the block. Already, her laughter flowed easier. Her walls caving in the quiet of the night. And as suddenly as it'd started? Reality swept in. "What are we doing, Sam?"
The slight uncertainty hidden in the undertones of a tease pierced his gut, "That depends...What do you want to do?"
He watched the wheels turning in her head. It should've been an easy answer, he thought. In his mind? It was simple. He wanted the night with her. Wherever it took them. As long as he got to hear that light peal of laughter, again.
She was laid across his bed. H/C tresses haloed around her head. A sight so sweet, he could've died again, right there and been okay. He watched her chew her bottom lip until it swelled. E/c eyes taking him in.
"It doesn't matter what I want." She finally sighed. Turning to the ceiling. He hated the sudden distance between them. He'd known her mere days, and yet? It felt like he knew her. She'd never choose something for herself. Too used to pouring herself into those around her.
"Yes, it does." He couldn't stop himself if he'd tried. The tips of his fingers trailed down her shoulder to her hand. Raising goosebumps along her flesh. Watching the way her breathing shifted. He could practically hear her heart racing. Or maybe that was his. The innocent touch igniting something feral inside of him.
His brain couldn't quite decide on who'd made the first move. All he knew was the sweetest kiss he'd ever experienced turned filthy in an instant. One moment he'd held her close, comforting without words. The next? He was staring down the prettiest pussy he'd seen in his life. Drooling over the dampness that coated each fold.
Glancing up, he watched her hand tighten on the comforter. Every breath she took made him ache harder for her. Kiss stained breasts straining against the cool air. He blew the teeniest bit against the heat that radiated off the slick flesh in front of him. And then he dove deep. "Sam!" Y/n's hips writhed at his first taste. The perfect blend of sweet and salty. "Oh, fuck," Another buck against him was his reward as he flattened his tongue against her. He pulled back for just a moment, pressing his forearm down over her belly. His other hand searching for entry. "Sammy, please!" The desperate plea was broken and cracked. He'd have handed her his soul right there, if he could've. Just to hear it again. Instead, he licked back up to her clit. Sucking deep as a reward just as he pressed into the wet heat of her. Hunting for that little ridge that made her thighs shake. "There!" His quiet girl was no longer in sight. Instead, she told him just what he'd done right. Moaning out while her pussy pulled him deeper. Clenching as they both begged him for more. Her fingers wrapped through his hair. Tugging as his bruised her thighs and inner walls. "Sammy, don't stop. I'm...I'm so close. Please, Sammy."
She chanted his name. Praising the way he'd taken her over. Demanding everything from him and more with every twist of her body. He applied more pressure just how he'd learned she liked it. Both inside and out, until his name peaked from her lips in a final scream of bliss.
"Sammy..." "Sammy." "Sammy!" Dean's bellow broke him out of the memory. "Dude, gross. You're drooling."
"Shut up," Sam huffed. Shifting in his seat. Attempting to reduce some of the friction he was feeling below the belt. His dick begging to remember what had followed after. "And-"
"Stop callin' ya Sammy," Petulant as always, his older brother looked him dead in the eyes. Mischief gleaming in the green. "Is that what gave you a woody?"
"Dude," Sam's head whipped so fast, his chestnut hair whipped him in the eye. Making his brother cackle like a full blooded hyena. Trying to see who heard as his arm covered as much of the evidence as he could. "Shut up."
"I knew it." The wheezing drew more eyes their way, as the bitch face took over the younger of the two. Scowling deep did nothing to curb the mission Dean was on. "She pavloved your ass." Another dry cackle echoed as he slapped the table.
Sam sighed. Knowing that he was doomed. Dean was right. She'd ruined him. And the second he was given another chance? He'd dive right in headfirst. Desperate to hear that throaty "Sammy" leave her lips as he pumped into her. Over and over, again.
This is so, SO overdue, but here’s my entry for @huffle-pissed‘s Vibes and Valentines challenge! My prompt was “Kiss me like that and you might regret it.” Thanks in advance for reading; I would love any advice or critiques!
Title: Roadside
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 5741
Summary: At least Sam’s there when the reader’s car breaks down.
Warnings: smut with only the thinnest premise of fluffy story, dommy Sam
He was hot—it was hot. The sun alone was nearly enough to make steam come off the blacktop itself, although you were nearly sure you’d heard that was an optical illusion most of the time. This certainly wasn’t; the huge, lean man in front of you, your car popped open behind him like a themed calendar. Sweat had slowly collected through the fabric of his t-shirt, the grey cotton first gaining a stripe down his back that had swelled to some Rorschach test by this point. You were staring when he ducked out from under the hood and had to pull yourself together to look as casual as possible when you realized he had already been talking. “It’s got a small, like, cylinder piece and a handle like a normal wrench?”
“Oh, ah, sure,” you answered, rifling through the toolbox as quickly as you could to see if anything fitting that description popped out to you. You held up your best guess.
“Perfect, yeah.” He held a palm out while keeping the other hand in the innards of the car, probably holding something in place. When you gave it to him, your fingers grazed his and you felt an electric shock blazed up your arm. Sliding the wrench in, his forearms rippled with tension under a light sheen of sweat as he cranked. After a few moments he drew back from the car, thoughtlessly dipping a hand under the hem of his t-shirt and lifting it as a makeshift handkerchief to dry his face and mouth. Seeing the taut muscles of his abdomen made you feel a little dizzy, and pulling the jersey against his body draped it almost pornographically off of him, the damp sticking in a way that left so little to the imagination he could have been dunked entirely in water. “Man, it’s hot as hell,” he said. “How long were you out here?”
“Not that long, it wasn’t so bad.” Not if this was the reward.
He nodded with an easy smile that showed he wasn’t so sure he believed you. “Well, it should be good now. Do you have a long way to go?”
“Just to the next exit, my motel’s right off the highway.”
Only a beat passed as he considered that. “I think maybe I should trail you? Until you get into town. In case this doesn’t hold out.” It startled you enough to pause before giving him a shy grin, and he seemed to mistake it for hesitation. “Or maybe to a gas station or something, not following you back to—”
“No, no, that’s—that’s fine,” you answered a little too quickly. He smiled back at you, relieved. “Thank you so much, seriously. I don’t even know your name, you must think I’m a total asshole.”
The dimples on both cheeks got even deeper as he extended his hand to you. “Sam. Don’t worry about it; I’m glad I could help.”
It was warm as you shook it, as was everything else in the goddamned desert. Firm and gentle at the same time, calluses against the skin of your palm thick without being rough—a conscientious man who worked with his hands. “Then Sam, I feel like I should tell you that you have some grease on your chin.” Both his eyebrows lifted curiously as he tried to swipe blindly at it with also-dirty hands. You reached out, stopping just before touching his arm to stop him. “You’re—wait, hold on, you’re making it worse,” you giggled, the grey-black spot spreading along his jaw. He glanced over to the car, trying to use the reflection in the window to see himself. Rubbing for a couple seconds didn’t seem to help, and he held up a finger for you to wait.
“I just need one sec and I’ll be ready. Why don’t you fire ‘er up and see if it feels okay to you?”
You nodded, leaving the drivers’ side door open for some air flow and watching him as he walked back to the huge black muscle car he’d been in when he stopped on the road behind you. Bending down to use the mirror to help himself, he tried in vain to keep rubbing the grease off before seeming to lose patience and yanking his sweat-through shirt over his head, the cotton much more effective than his fingers alone. Your mouth dropped open a touch at the truly spectacular sight of him. His size was remarkable, of course, but it had been with his shirt on too. Without it, you saw that the glimpse of stomach you’d seen wasn’t a fluke; his whole body a model of sculpted, functional muscle, the swelled shoulders of a farmer or construction worker. Wholly masculine even without the dark hair collecting into a narrow stream, pouring down his stomach and dipping underneath a non-ostentatious belt buckle. He moved economically, his limbs showing an understanding of his body in space that felt almost elegant as he cleaned himself up and walked to the trunk, trading his now-balled grey shirt for a clean white one that must’ve been stored there.
It was a shame, covering that work of art again. At the very least the freshly clothed man that walked back to you could’ve been out of any cologne ad, long lines of his legs in American jeans and boots kicking up desert dirt. You hoped you looked nonchalant by the time he got to you. “How’s it running?”
“Seems okay, yeah.” You were going for coy but weren’t quite sure you were hitting it, not wanting to seem like a nutjob in front of him—Sam, a perfect name for this ultimate boy-next-door-knight-in-shining-armor, an accessible sense of rock-solidness in the sound itself. His lips split into a brilliant smile at the news.
“Great! Okay, you ready, or do you want a minute?”
“I’m all good if you are. I honestly can’t thank you enough, you totally saved me—”
Sam waved it away. “It’s really nothing. You probably did me a favor, to be honest. My brother usually works on the car, doesn’t give me too many chances to stay sharp.” He smiled at your sheepishness. “So, I’ll just, ah, follow you?”
And follow you he did. Trying your best to look casual in the event he could see you in the cab, you hunted around in your center console for any toiletries, finding a melted Chapstick that burned your finger when you opened it and a now-mushy stick of deodorant. Whatever cherry wax hadn’t spilled off your hand got rubbed into your lips, and you did your best to inconspicuously fish the deodorant through the neck of your shirt for a few swipes. You didn’t really know what you were even doing it for—Sam was, in all likelihood, going to ensure you weren’t so far from civilization that you’d die of exposure if the car broke down again and drive off to live whatever hot guy life he had, leaving you to fantasize about him in your stupid, scratchy motel bed.
The drive gave you a second to muster up the courage to bring Sam and his gigantic Chevy to the parking lot of your motel. You reminded yourself you had nothing to lose, that if you didn’t go for it you’d likely never see this guy again anyway, your rejection an entirely private secret. By the time you saw the sign for vacancies, you’d almost convinced yourself it was a good idea, sticking your hand out the open window to wave Sam into the parking lot after you. When you saw his car park, you opened your door before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it.
He met you about halfway between the vehicles. “Is something wrong?”
Just an offer, don’t psych yourself out. “It’s really, um, hot. Out here. My AC’s barely cutting it and I’m betting yours isn’t either. I was wondering if you would want to, you know, cool off? Inside?”
His eyebrows raised as he realized what you were asking, and his mouth formed around a silent word before he started over. “Ah—yeah. Yeah, okay,” he smirked somewhat disbelievingly. “Let me just, uh, lock the car, I guess.”
You fought the urge to sell past the close and waited for him to return, feeling slightly more confident at the half-skip in his walk as he hurried to the Impala and back. The two of you walked into your room together somewhat awkwardly, standing almost close enough to touch without ever crossing the distance, reminded you were strangers in the middle of the afternoon, without cover of darkness or even a single drink to lubricate. Inside was cool as promised though, the mechanically chilled air hitting you like a soothing curtain as you walked in. Waiting any longer would make you lose your resolve, so when he closed the door behind him a few seconds later you tried to channel someone extremely sexually confident and pressed the length of yourself up into him so that your lips could meet his.
He seemed surprised by the force behind your push, pinning his body to the wall with a tiny grunt before seeming to become ravenous, his hands running through your hair desperately as he kissed you hard. Even with it the restraint in his movements was obvious as he curved down to meet you, his frame that much larger, stronger, this close to you. You felt something animal inside you flare at his hunger, and you let your nails run a little harder than you might’ve down his chest before biting his bottom lip, drawing it away from him as he groaned. Breaking away for only a beat to tug the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, you barely had enough time to relish your skin on that which you’d so admired back on the highway ahead of his flipping your positions and hitching below your thighs to pick you up, weight suspended between his arms and the wall. It made you gasp, and you felt Sam’s smirk against your lips. “Nice trick,” you breathed into the space between your mouths.
“I have better ones,” he murmured, moving along your jaw to kiss-suck at your neck. You believed him entirely, feeling set alight already. A sharp sigh squeaked out when he ground some delicious trigger spot, and your head rolled back on your neck involuntarily. “Ow, fuck—” you snapped as your skull clunked hard against the wallpaper.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, reflexively covering the spot with paradoxical sweetness as his fingers dug beautiful perfect dimples into your ass. “Too rough, my bad—”
“No, no.” It was too emphatic but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Rough is good, I’m just clumsy.”
He smiled, easy and light, letting his forehead tilt to touch yours as he chuckled. The grin was infectious as it spread to you through a brief, remarkably chaste kiss. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up,” you giggled as he tucked back into your neck, his pelvis tilting under you enough to feel the thick ache of him between your legs, through your jeans. After a minute or two, Sam’s arm behind your head folded somehow to become a seatbelt crossing your back and holding you to him as he walked you both to the bed, ease-dropping you down and ignoring the button and fly of your jeans in favor of shucking them off of you like some kind of cartoon, one incredibly hard pull taking them clean to your ankles as you tried not to shriek. By some miracle of modern elastic, your panties were jostled but still on as he covered your body with his, the heat of his body and the cold air of the room impossible contrast, and his fingers circled your neck. He didn’t apply any real pressure; his thumb rested in the hollow of your neck as he sucked on your tongue, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed almost too much to handle.
The thumb brushed back and forth as Sam hovered for a moment, his fingers long enough to curl around the collar of your shirt with the same hand. “Off,” he growled simply, the smirk on his lips devilish. You grinned as you obeyed, shimmying out of not only your shirt but everything underneath it too, laying bare beneath him. He kissed you again before sliding down, teeth dragging lightly and stopping to catch tiny nips of skin as he moved to your hips, angling his broad shoulders and fitting through your legs to lick a firm stripe over the only fabric left covering you, the movement an electric shock.
“I’m probably really—ah, sweaty,” you croaked.
Sam just smiled, his tongue running along the inside of his molars before he drew it through the joint of your hip, his enthusiasm vibrating through his lips. He slipped then to taste a different kind of salt-tang, the sensation so much smoother than the panties pressed against it. When you began to rock against his glistening face, he took two fingers and turned them to hook confidently inside you, the rhythm of his mouth not changing at all as if this was choreography he’d practiced dozens of times. “Holy shit,” you breathed, grabbing a handful of Sam’s hair out of his eyes as he looked up at you. It was impossible not to squirm, and his other arm wrapped around your thigh like an iron bar, holding you in place while he worked magic before your body spasmed and clenched around him. He rode it out as you rode his jaw, leaving you a twitchy, heaving mess on the motel sheets.
You caught your breath together, his head resting on your leg. Feeling slightly less jellied, you scooched back on the mattress until you could sit up, watching Sam slink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Swinging yourself around to get over to him, you slid into his mouth deep-dirty, tasting yourself on his lips and sinking as he clutched at your body, pulling you down onto his lap. The still-tender wet ground against his denim and God, could he really be that big zipped through your head while he pawed at your back. You managed to get hold of the button of his jeans, undoing them as he realized what you were doing and leaned away to help you, his stomach flattening as he flicked them open and you rolled off of him. He rose in his kneel to get at the zipper until you grabbed his hands, stopping him to do it yourself. He got to his feet, about to move to the bed again, but you stayed down, freeing the length of him from the jeans and worn plaid boxers underneath.
Fat drops of precum gathered on the tip of his cock tasted nearly sweet as they passed your lips, and Sam’s head rolled back. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned as you took him into your mouth with considerable effort. You tucked an errant piece of hair behind your ear and he reached down, holding the rest back as you bobbed. He was a playground, opportunity to try all the things you’d ever been curious about with the feedback of unconscious pulsing in his hips and the gorgeous, filthy things coming out of his mouth. The end goal had almost slipped your mind completely when the hand in your hair pulled you all the way off of him, Sam looking down at you on your knees. Motel quilt on your back reminded you how close you still were to the foot board and he bent down to kiss you, curling your head back onto the fabric to scoop under your thighs again. You tried to help scramble back to the mattress but weren’t fast enough as he picked you up and put you onto the bed, sucking down your neck as you giggled through the springs bouncing. “Wanted to bend you over the hood of your car out there, you looked so fucking good,” he growled along your throat.
“Oh yeah?” you breathed, the chills down your spine and the feeling of his body on yours more than enough to distract you from how lame that must’ve sounded.
Sam didn’t seem to care, grazing his teeth along your pulse. “Couldn’t stop thinking about what you looked like under those clothes—” he paused enough for you to feel the grin against you as he sucked an especially sweet spot and your breath hitched. It might as well have been one of those hypnosis recordings you’d tried a couple times to fall asleep, his low murmuring and movements slowly tugging you under a cloud of pheromone coated endorphins. “Tasting you—seeing your lips around my cock—‘s even better than I thought.”
You whimpered like a virgin until Sam’s mouth finally caught yours. He rocked crystal-hard against your thigh and a small, hungry note came from the back of his throat when you bit his lip, forcing him to break.
“Do you have…?” he asked, so close to your face you would’ve been able to count his eyelashes.
You realized the question required a response at the same time you understood what he was asking. “Ye—yeah, of course. Sorry.” Fishing your arm out from the tangle of your bodies toward the nightstand, you were nowhere close to getting to the little bag of toiletries lying there even as you twisted your torso.
“Bag?” Sam asked, his arm easily long enough to cover the distance when you nodded. His skin moved across your nipples as he reached, on its own something you would’ve been able to daydream about for months to come. Tanned fingers flicked purposefully through a handful of tampons and tiny bottles before finding a foil package he ripped open with his teeth, the hand disappearing. You felt him nudge against you before he seemed to change his mind, bringing two fingers to into his mouth while the other wound in hair at the back of your neck.
Sam’s forehead pressed against yours. “Before I get distracted.” The fingers circled before dipping inside at the same time his tongue entered your mouth. You felt remarkably like he was a predator playing with his food without caring one bit. If it had been more elegant, less primal, it could’ve been watching an expert piano player. Within a couple minutes you were clutching for purchase along his chest, his arms, anything to try to hold yourself together as you fell apart. “Look at me,” he said, the hold on your hair tightening a fraction. His eyes were lit from within when you met them, the need in them nearly frenzied as you came spasming around his fingers. “Good girl, just like that.” It was virtually guaranteed your nails would leave marks digging into him. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathed as the heaving of your chest started to even out.
He brushed his cock back and forth against you, pausing. “Yeah?” he asked, something gentle there even with the dark hunger in his eyes. You couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more than you did in that moment, squirming toward him as though you physically couldn’t help it. Nodding made him grin, sly and cocky and excited, and he pushed into you.
It was slow, at first—his quiet, confident self-awareness that you’d need it somehow not coming off like hubris. When you hooked your leg around his hips he started rocking into you, picking up the pace as you threw your head back. Soon he was pulsing fast, forcing you to brace yourself on the headboard behind you with outstretched arms. He curved forward, his teeth catching your neck to pull a groan from it. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed, endorphins suspending you in a frozen limbo you could’ve stayed in forever, when he scooped under your back and picked you up, lifting you as he laid down.
His deft movements rearranged you like a doll, legs on either side of his waist. You nearly fell forward in surprise but the thick pillar of him kept you supported like a puppet, that much deeper than he’d already been with the added gravity of your body. Each pump skewered into you in the most delicious way; for a brief, flitting second of legible thought you felt you understood how people could feel so overcome they spoke in tongues. Taking each of your hips in the broad span of his hands, Sam began to ram up into you hard and fast, some tilt hitting you just right to fall apart again, your head falling back like you were being raptured. He slowed as you came down, wrapping his arms around you to pull in for a long, filthy kiss. “I could watch you all goddamn day,” he murmured against your skin.
Again he moved you as you giggled giddily through the compliment, sliding you back on the bed and standing up. He came around the corner of the mattress and seemed to be making good on his promise, his eyes sliding over your body where you laid. Something about it, being seen like that by this glistening Tarzan, with his shining hair and perfect soft-rough balance, made you feel stripped past your skin to your bones, to the very core of yourself. An insane way to feel for a man you’d just met that day, but there you were.
For what it was worth, the smile Sam gave you in that moment was equally as insane—you were sure then you weren’t imagining the affection there, that there was something just as sparkling in his hazel eyes as there was in the glint of his teeth. He stroked himself for a few seconds, the mere sight of your body a private piece of pornography, before grabbing behind your knees and yanking you down the mattress to where he stood, the backs of your thighs thudding against his and locking in place with his palms. The way he’d pulled you pressed his cock between your legs, as much a taunt as anything, the heat of it feeling like it throbbed against you. He rocked there, taunting with the grind before you drew back and slipped him inside you yourself. Knowing you wanted it that much made Sam bite his lip to keep from smiling too widely. With only a beat or two of buildup, he slammed into you—hands an iron grip on your thighs, pulling you in as much as he thrust forward, the force of it seeming like he could drill you right through the floor and you’d beg him to keep going.
He took a thumb into his mouth and reached down without missing a single stroke, circling your clit. “You going to cum for me again?” he nearly murmured, low and steady.
You would’ve done anything then, but more importantly, it seemed like your body had been crafted as a puzzle for him to take apart and would’ve obeyed without your input. He pounded harder, riding you through the inevitable before he came himself, the muscles in his arms and abdomen clenching while his breath got rough.
The aftershocks had him bracing his weight on stretched, sculpted arms as his breathing evened out before he discreetly shucked the condom into a wastebin and laid down in one relatively fluid motion. If you hadn’t been so thoroughly spent, it might’ve even seemed a little too suave, a little too practiced in its coordination. He sidled up to you, spreading his wingspan in low-pressure invitation for you to lie along his side. It felt—gentlemanly, somehow; the pretense of sex already foregone, the ruse of manners drawn away to reveal a relaxed sincerity you weren’t expecting. It made the inappropriately profound crush you were developing on him worse, the hooks sunk in like ice picks.
Sliding underneath the arm and resting your head on his chest felt treacherous, but it would’ve been more awkward not to. You half expected him to tip forward and kiss your hair, but the way his fingertips brushed back and forth on your bicep, holding you to him, was just as nice. The two of you laid for a few moments, letting your bodies soak in and the hormones float lazily through your bloodstreams.
“Thanks for inviting me in,” he said after a few content minutes. His voice sounded like caramel, lilting enough you could hear the smile behind your head. Propping yourself up to your elbows, you grinned back at him.
“Thanks for coming in,” you answered. He bit his lip, tracing the lines of your face with his eyes for a moment before looking up at the ceiling, letting his smile deepen enough to pull the dimples into his cheeks.
Bashful silence reminiscent of some middle school dance hung in the air just long enough to start to feel awkward, and Sam cleared his throat. “Do you, maybe, ah, wanna get something to eat?” he asked, only a note off of breezy.
The smile wiggled around on your face, threatening to beam. “Sure,” you finally answered. “I could eat.”
He grinned back at you. “Cool. Let me just call my brother, I was supposed to be on my way to see him before you, ah, invited me over.”
Sam did, politely covering himself with the top sheet as he sat up and grabbed his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He poured into them fluidly like a glass of water filling, tucking the phone under his chin while he threw the button together and stood up. You watched him cross to the bathroom, likely looking for some privacy and throwing you a silent, unnecessary ‘sorry!’ before snatching his shirt off the ground and closing the door behind him. Watching the slink of his spine, the jeans low-slung on his hips, even his bare feet, you were nearly thankful for the physical barrier forcing you to stop staring. You stood on then-coltish legs and tried to pull yourself together as quickly as possible, trying in vain to fix your hair in a tiny compact mirror when Sam came out, throwing his t-shirt on. “Ready to go?”
“If you are.”
Walking together across the street was a pleasant kind of silence. Without having to fill the space with words, it the intimacy felt more lived in between the two of you than you might’ve believed if you weren’t experiencing it.
You probably could’ve guessed he’d open the door for you, but it didn’t make it any less gentlemanly when he did. The heat of his hand was palpable hovering over your lower back but he didn’t outright guide you which was somehow more attractive, although it’s possible anything he did would’ve been attractive at that moment. After ordering, you leaned onto the table to rest your chin in your palms.
“So, Sam. You always so chivalrous?”
“Chivalrous?” he asked, the tip of his tongue flicking out to grab his straw.
“I came three times before you were even inside me.”
Sam choked on a sip of Coke, his eyebrows raising in shock as he coughed once through it, smirking as he swallowed. “I didn’t know that was chivalrous.”
You grinned, cheekily pleased you’d managed to surprise him and moving your cup out of the way as you saw the waitress walking over. “What would you call it, then?”
He kept smiling, dimples staying deep as he said a small ‘thank you’ to the waitress and graciously denied a need for anything else when she asked. When his eyes met yours again, they were coy. “Guess I hadn’t thought about it.”
Picking up a fry and blowing on it, you rolled your eyes. “Sounds like a yes to me. Is that some pickup artist always-leave-them-wanting-more thing?” It was Sam’s turn to roll his, accepting the teasing as flirtatious as you’d hoped he would. “Or are you some mythical being luring women in on the side of the road?”
Bedroom eyes looked back at you atop his smile. “If I remember, it was you on the side of the road.”
“Don’t change the subject,” you said, hoping the heat of flattered embarrassment wasn’t obvious on your face.
After a few beats he realized you were serious and stretched back in the booth, running a hand over the back of his hair. “I don’t know, it’s less—distracting, maybe? If I don’t, ah, you know, take care of it, I have a hard time not thinking about it.”
“Take care of it? How romantic,” you laughed.
“Whatever, you know what I mean. Easier to have fun if everyone is.” He rolled his eyes but seemed to be a good sport about the ribbing, grabbing a fry and biting it in half. “Plus it’s hot.”
The sly smile he gave made you giggle like a schoolgirl, and he grabbed a few more fries. He really was handsome—gorgeous, even—with high cheekbones and those dimples, his neck the wide-strong of an athlete. You only knew you’d been staring when one of his eyebrows twisted up, silent curiosity of whether something was wrong.
“So, um, what do you do?” you tried to cover, intently focusing your gaze on picking the next fry.
Sam swallowed and took a sip of his drink. “I work with my brother.”
“Same brother you called? Hope I didn’t mess with your job.”
“No, I—” he grinned, slightly embarrassed at misspeaking. “I mean yeah, same brother. But you didn’t mess with anything. And even if you had, I ah…I wouldn’t have cared.”
That made you flush and you struggled to think of something clever to say before deciding you couldn’t come up with anything, wishing you could’ve held onto the spunky, raunchy girl you’d been able to put on before you got lost traveling his face. “What do you guys do? Are you from around here?” Stupid, don’t be clingy.
He swallowed and you worried maybe you had mis-stepped. “Not from around here. We’re, uh, exterminators? Sort of exterminator consultants.”
“Sexy,” you smirked, enjoying the reappearance of his dimples.
“Family business, I guess. It’s what my dad did.” He pivoted abruptly, clear but sweet Not Interested In Discussing in his tone. “My guess is you’re not from around here.”
“Oh really? What gave it away?”
His eyebrows crooked incredulously. “The motel?”
You hoped the ‘fuck, right’ didn’t show on your face too clearly, winking as if it was always a joke rather than a chunk of your brain shutting down for how badly you wanted this plate of fries to last forever, to split a milkshake with two straws like teenagers after a sock hop. “Maybe you should be a detective, Mr. Exterminator.”
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You’re losing him. “You must get along with your brother pretty well to work together.”
“Yeah, we—yeah, we really do. We’re a good team, I guess. Makes it a lot easier to be on the road together all the time.”
His fond smile was reassuring both in the way it seemed like you still had his attention and in the sweetness his being close to his brother showed. “How long have you guys been on the road?”
“A while. Where are you from? Close to here?”
You took a sip of your drink to stall. “No, not close really. I’m just passing through.”
He considered that with a downward turn of his lips. “To where?”
A deep breath blew out of your nose, continued inability to answer this question one of the recurring frustrations in your life. Something about Sam felt right, though—open, like he would understand—and if he didn’t get it, you probably wouldn’t ever see him again anyway. No harm, no foul. “To nowhere, really. You know, ‘finding myself’ or whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes to show you understood how it sounded and that you thought it was lame too even if secretly, sincerely, it didn’t. ‘Finding yourself’ may have been less accurate than ‘running’, but if you were worried about scaring this guy off by wondering what he did for work, you certainly weren’t going to tell him your whole life story right off the bat.
Sam looked at the table, slowly rotating his glass with his fingers. “Well if nowhere is ever close by, it would be cool to, ah, see you. Again.” He finally glanced back up when he was done speaking, as though he could handle the aftermath but not the implied question itself.
The heart thumping in your chest seemed not to remember this guy had already been inside you, ohmygodhelikesme bounding through your bloodstream and drawing a smile across your face like a crisp clean sheet. “I think that could be arranged.”
You could’ve written a bubblegum pop ballad for those dimples. Sam’s tongue moved along the underside of his molars as he grinned across the table.
He paid the check without looking at it, leaving a fold of bills on the table and walking you back across the street to the motel room door like he was dropping you off at home after a date on a school night. Standing at the threshold, you struggled with the feeling that you didn’t want him to leave, feeling ridiculously like you were saying goodbye to someone you really knew, not this random hot guy who’d fixed your car and blown your back out.
“So. See you later?” Sam asked, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck nervously.
You swallowed and nodded before pressing to your tiptoes and kissing him deeply, slipping your tongue into his mouth and biting his lower lip, dragging it a bit as you stood back. “See you later.”
Sam smiled with his eyes closed. “Kiss me like that and you might regret it,” he murmured, his hand lingering on your lower back for a beat before dropping.
“Somehow I doubt that,” you grinned into the heat of him.
It would’ve been enough, the memory of the day and the way he took a few steps backward like he couldn’t bear taking his eyes off you even a beat too early. But about fifteen minutes after you got back into your room, your phone went off:
-
Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!
Warnings: age regression trauma, stuffys, paranoia
No pronouns weight or skin color mentioned
Edited to the best of my ability
《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》
You had met Sam through Bucky, it was a situation in thought of if Bucky trusted him than you could, you had spent most of your time hidden in your shared apartment with him, the anxiety hydra had ridden you with making the task of being around people absolutely terrifying, frigid cold edges in your mind making it disabling, that was until you found comfort in a therapeutic coping mechanism referred to by therapists as age regression.
In your little headspace you happened to be a lot more curious, adventurous and just open to trying new things, Bucky knew this, he encouraged it, he'd take you on walks to the park where you’d sit and point out the ducks and turtles, the pretty flowers and shiny rocks.
All of this so subtle no figure in the public eye could even see it.
You ended up joining Bucky and Sam on morning runs, your stamina building the same as your voice, different stages but still growing all the same.
On days where Bucky would be busy with therapy Sam would take you for slower runs to keep you out of your head. He would stop and get snacks when you were to tired to run. He introduced you to the public library, your fascination made his heart swell, he decided right than that moment you needed a library card so he helped you get one, it would eventually become your favorite place.
You grew close to him, you felt normal, human, free, you had a friend outside of your experiences at hydra.
At night when the air grew cold and the sky grew dark the drowning feeling of being within the grasp of hydras icy hold, no matter how much of yourself you felt during the day it all ripped from you at night, the most alone time.
Bucky was used to it, he was taking healing a little easier than you thanks to his time around Steve when he came back, Bucky would sit up with you all night if so needed with you curled away in his arms, both little or big he was willing to be there for you.
You got the chance to experience a relationship with Sam the way normal people got to, little did you know Bucky had sat Sam down and made it clear that you weren't just for games. You made same happy and you felt sparks of such flit in your heart as well.
Today was a bit of a new experience, going to the shops, casual, normal, standard, just the way of life ordinary.
You had gone to three shops where the guys had found items they were interested in, but what’s the use of having something if it does not serve a daily need, the movie on the display tv holing your attention.
Bucky and Sam wandered through the section keeping you in sight looking through items stocked upon the shelves.
The movie unbeknownst to you was a horror movie so in the moment where the screen panned to the sight of walls shifting, eyes embedded in them blinking, bleeding, boring into your own, your body ran cold.
The people around you know who you are, they know your past, they’re staring, the walls are staring at you, the room is breathing, you rush to find Bucky, home, he’s your home, but he’s gone, they took him, they’re coming for you.
Turning in every direction, panic present in your movements Sam catch’s on.
Your headspace slipping, falling little to keep you safe from what’s to come. you find a glint of hope and safety when Sam cones into view, the rushing in your ears deafening everything he’s said you rush towards him letting him pull you into a hug, your grasp onto his shirt burying your face into his chest, this definitely took him by surprise, you weren't very often one for touch but he wasn't going to fight it, "hey is it okay if i hug you?" He says quietly for only you, you nod letting him wrap his arms around you running one up and down your back.
He could feel your heart slamming in your chest and your body trembling, a small sniffle and all he could think of was soothing his nephews like this and the few flash backs Bucky had with Sam around, you just need someone to help you ground yourself.
"Shhh you’re okay, its just you and me, no ones going to hurt you, Bucky is in the bathroom he'll be right back"
His hands taking your focus from the sounds around you to right here with Sam
Bucky returns and soon realizes you got really panicked, meaning you’re probably going to slip if you haven't already. "Do you want to go?" He hums causing you to finally look up at him.
He had returned, they didn't take him, your Bucky is safe still, he could see the gleam in your eyes that only shows when you’re little, a blank slate of emotions new to the function of the world, you look up to a perplexed Sam and back to Bucky, shaking your head you knew you could do this.
"Alright, lets walk around and find a snack in another part of the mall" Bucky leads, you take Sam’s hand and follow along, staying silent, you hadn’t even questioned taking to Sam, it felt like second nature.
By now Sam had put two and two together from your mannerisms and how some of his Colleagues in the air force with him had taken up for therapy.
Keeping himself alert to anything and everything that grasped your attention, rounding a corner in the mall the shop on the left warm and inviting for children caused a small hesitation in your step.
"Do you want to go in there?"
He points at the children's store
Weighing your options you nod and let him and Bucky lead you in.
He lets your hand loose and you just stand in your spot waiting for someone to say something. "Go ahead and look around dove" bucky remarks, letting you release from your spot, you walk round and they follow.
looking at the noisy toys and than the ones that move, the activity toys, the interactive ones and baby items that all took your interest, you walk to the other side of the store when a small fluffy orange and white lump in your peripheral vision grabs your attention.
You walk over to the stuffed animal pulling the orange and white fox off the shelf looking it over, petting its soft fabric and hugging it, you don’t remember the last him you had a stuffed animal, "do you want it bub?" Sam questions.
Guilt hits you deep, how shameful it must be that you’re taking a baby toy, that you’re wanting something useless to everyday life, you reluctantly put it back on the shelf but Sam grabs it and holds it out to you, looking you in the eyes he does his best to make it very clear, "love if you like the fox that’s okay, its allowed, you can have it, i will buy it, do you want the fluffy fox?"
You nod and he proceeds to take your hand leading you to check out, placing it on the counter and paying for it, handing it to you, you hug the stuffy close.
Bucky at the doors with a rare smile on his face mirrored by an even more uncommon smile upon yours.
You carry on walking until you find food, sitting down and eating before they both noticed how you slumped over against buckys shoulder, you all finish up and go out to the car, Sam helping you into the back seat and buckling up than handing you the stuffy once again, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead and getting in the passenger seat.
The hum of the car lulling you to sleep.
《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》
The stuffed animal in question
Im unbelievably tired and in so much pain but i got this done for yall
“Bed 3 needs a head CT, call radiology!” I barked to the charge nurse, poking my head around the curtain so she could make the call. The elderly woman I was currently evaluating had fallen down the steps, and I needed to rule out a head injury.
Trish, one of the RNs who worked in the ER came toward me with a piece of paper in her hand, a worried frown on her face. I knew that look. “What’s up?” I asked.
“Can you look at this EKG? This guy came in with chest pain. He’s feeling better, but I don’t like his color,” She handed me the paper and I scanned it intently.
I turned to the nurse who was with the old lady. “Can you handle things here for a minute? When she nodded, I turned back to Trish. “I want to see this guy. I don’t like that EKG at all.” We headed in the direction of Bed 5, and I heard the screech of the heart monitor as it flatlined. I broke into a run and threw back the curtain, shoving his wife out of the way. “Call a code and somebody page cardiology!”
Getting into position, I began chest compressions as I heard the rumble of the crash cart approaching. Within two minutes the area around the bed was filled with people from many departments.
We hooked him up to the AED, and the cardiologist shocked him, and his heart started beating again. “He's having an MI. I've got this. We need to get him up to ICU.” I knew he was in good hands and gladly transferred care to him.
Every bed in our small ER was full, and I was the only doctor on duty until my relief came in at 7 am. It was going to be a long night. It was my last night working before vacation and damned if this place wasn’t going to make me earn every minute off if it didn’t kill me first. Oh, the joys of emergency medicine!
But things did eventually slow down, and I spent the last hour of my shift catching up on my charting. I did still had one patient, a 10-year old boy who had fallen out of bed. I was pretty sure his leg was broken, but I was just getting an x-ray to confirm.
“So are you getting excited?” Trish asked me as I typed on the computer.
“About the broken leg?” I asked only half-listening. I was determined to get out of here on time for once. I still had to pack.
She rolled her eyes. “No! About the wedding, silly! About the trip to the Bahamas. About your first vacation in……..well forever. Maybe you’ll meet an Alpha and fall in love.”
I made a face. Trish was the only one that I worked with who knew I was an Omega. I was on incredibly powerful suppressants. My friend Charlie worked in R and D at a pharmaceutical company, and she got me the stuff that wasn’t even available to the public yet. This was the stuff they used in the military.
No one had any idea what I was, which was fine with me. With my job and all the people I met, I needed to nip that shit in the bud. I didn’t have time for heats or any Alphas panting after me. I was married to my job, and that’s the way I liked it.
But for Donna, I would make an exception and take some time off. That is how much she meant to me. I had met Donna Hanscum in college when she was a criminal justice major and I was pre-med and I had no way of keeping my Omega under control.
We had both gotten a job as waitresses at this dive bar called Harvelle’s to make extra money. She had been leaving for the night and came across two huge Alphas hassling me in the parking lot. Several well-placed kicks later the Alphas had run crying for their mommies and Donna and I were BFFs. She seemed all perky and nice, but when you pissed her off, she was a badass.
After medical school, I took a job in Nebraska, and Donna became a sheriff in Minnesota. A few years later she met a guy from Kansas during a routine traffic stop, and it was love. They did the long-distance thing for a bit, and then she decided to move to Kansas to be with him. I thought he almost sounded too good to be true, but on a rare weekend off I drove there to meet him, and I could clearly see that Dean Winchester loved my friend. And the fact he was drop-dead gorgeous didn’t hurt.
“How come none of my patients ever look like him?” I grumbled good-naturedly as Donna and I washed dishes.
“Well, he has a brother….” Donna began, and I held up a hand to silence her.
“I am not looking to be fixed up, Don. My work is my life right now.”
“I understand, but I want you to be as happy as I am.” she said with a sappy smile. After dating for less than a year, Dean proposed to Donna. They were both Betas, and they were actually very well suited. They had decided to get married in Aruba. and they would have a party when they got back.
When Donna called me to share the good news, “I want to go,” came out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “I haven’t had a vacation in forever, and seeing my best friend married seems like a good reason.” Where had that come from?
Donna was thrilled of course and asked me to be her maid of Honor. I didn’t even hesitate before I accepted.
I finished dictating before I answered Trish “It will be weird to not be here. I know its in the Bahamas, but I’m sure it’s going to be boring. I’ll be busy with all kinds of Maid-of-Honor stuff.”
“When do you leave?” Trish asked curiously.
“The day after tomorrow. That gives me one day to pack.”
“You haven’t even started packing yet?” she laughed, shaking her head. “Please tell me you have a suitable bathing suit at least.”
“I will after I buy one,” I said sheepishly.
“Girl, you are a hot mess.” She told me, but she was smiling.
Charting of course took longer than it should have. Dot, the supervisor of medical records would have my hide if I went on vacation and left charting to be done, so I staying until I was completely caught up and my inbox was empty.
When I got home, I should have gone straight to bed, but I started to panic I wouldn’t be ready so I started packing. I was coming off of a 12-hour ER shift, and when the adrenaline wore off, I was going to crash badly. So I might as well ride the wave as long as it lasted. I could always sleep on the plane, right?
Here you go, My Lovelies. I hope you enjoy it. You can find my
Masterlist
over at my author blog on wordpress. Sorry that you are being diverted, but tumblr still haven’t fixed the issue with links on my page.
Bec
xx
Treat You Better
(Sam x Reader)
Request: I was wondering if you could write a sam x reader based on the song treat you better by Shawn Mendes where she is in a abusive relationship and sam finds out and tells her he will treat her better than the guy and she ends up trying to breaking up with the guy and he gets mad and sam saves her and fluff
Author Notes: Sorry it took so long. Hope it’s ok. Xx @supernatural-79
Approx: 3,700
The breeze swirled the strands of brown around his face, but none of it took his focus from the sight within the window. The tear stained cheeks, the trembling fingers that worked to clear the rivers that flowed. His fists curled automatically, he knew the cause. It wasn’t a hunt. It wasn’t the death of a loved one. It wasn’t even the stress of life. No, the cause was far worse. Something he couldn’t fix, he couldn’t rescue her from. Not until she was ready. That jerk of a boyfriend continued to smash her already delicate soul into more pieces and there was nothing Sam could do. His throat tightened as he swallowed, once again wondering what it would take to get her to leave him. And once again he came up blank. She picked up her phone, and Sam watched his heart filled with nothing but dread as she nodded. She gathered her things and made her way to the door. He stepped back out of sight, not wanting to make it worse and watched as she climbed into her car and drove off. He prayed once more that she would come to her senses. That he could gain the courage and the strength to step in and show her how she should be treated. How she deserved to be treated. But none of it mattered, he was all she wanted. At least it was what she claimed nothing he said would change that not until she was ready. For now, all he could do was do what he’d always done. Wait. Hope. Pray. All of the above in anticipation that she would realise just how much better he could treat her and that she would finally, after all these years, turn to him.
He smiled as she approached the table, her movements slow and heavy, her face slightly drawn. Sam frowned deeply as she mouthed a thank you, gently sipping at the coffee he had waiting.
‘Tell me it’s nothing to worry about,’ he questioned quietly.
‘Finalised a case, ended up clubbing. Just a bit worn out,’ she promised.
‘How bad of a case?’ He knew it was a wolf hunt, she’d mentioned it in her texts. The same hunt the Winchesters had offered to help on, and Y/N had refused. Her and Joey had it covered.
‘No life long injuries, but I won’t be running marathons.’
‘And you went clubbing because….’
‘It’s fun,’ she offered with a shrug. ‘How’ve you been? How’s Dean?’
‘Y/Nny,’ he sighed.
‘Sammy,’ she mimicked. ‘Don’t. He needed to let off steam.’
‘You needed to rest. To heal, a club won’t do that. Dinner in, a book, Netflix, bed, that will do that. That’s what should have happened.’
She sighed and went to stand. Sam panicked as he reached out gently grabbing her elbow.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight. I never do. I’m just worried. You’re clearly hurt and need to heal, not party.’
‘And yet, I’m here,’ she grumbled, reaching for her bag.
‘And you shouldn’t be. Christ, Y/N. If I had of known I wouldn’t have asked you to meet. I would have brought you pain meds and a book and come to you,’ he sighed. ‘But even a quiet coffee is better than-.’
‘No one’s perfect, Sammy. Stopping acting like you are. You can preach as much as you want but you’re not there. You’re not in this relationship. You’re not in any, and the girls certainly ain’t lining up fighting to be with you. What right do you have to tell me how it should be?’
His hand slipped from her elbow as he stared at her. She’d never spoken to him like that. Never reacted in such a way.
‘Y/N,’ he breathed, standing up.
She shook her head, ‘Don’t Sam. If I wanted the third degree I’d ask for it. Hell, I would have called Dean and told him what I did. If anyone’s going to parent me, it’s your brother. But you… I came because I needed my best friend.’
Sam watched sadly as she turned and walked off into the crowd. His jaw tensed as he watched her disappear.
The door slammed so hard it shook the window pane. Dean’s head lifted, his brow furrowing with concern as Sam stomped past him into the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water as he tried to calm down.
‘So,’ Dean commented, as Sam slumped back into the chair opposite him. ‘How’s Y/N?’
Sam glared at his brother and snatched his brother’s beer and downed it.
‘Injured. Clubbing. Not wanting her friend to be concerned. Her step in parent can, but not her friend. Her boyfriend though, no, he’s allowed to pretend she’s not injured and all and force her to go clubbing.’
Dean stayed quiet, and Sam knew why. Nothing he said or did right now would help. Sam continued on his rant, drinking his way through another bottle. Then another. Eventually making his way over to his bed and collapsing, letting his tears fall silently. Not because she wasn’t here with him, but because she was so blind to what she truly deserved and that hurt more than anything else.
‘Room 203,’ Sam announced as the boys pulled up in the motel carpark. His eyes flickered up to the movements behind the window. Both oblivious to their presence. They could hear the muffled sounds of Joey’s raised voice before the doors even opened. Sam gripped the door handle of the impala, trying to convince himself that at least he wasn’t violent. But it didn’t matter. Verbal abuse was just as bad. They climbed out the car and listened as something shattered. Both men throwing themselves forward as the motel door opened. Y/N stood there momentarily staring at the two as she blinked back tears.
‘Ah,’ she mumbled.
‘Don’t need the help,’ Joey snapped. ‘We’re fine.’
‘Didn’t just come to help,’ Dean smiled, pulling Y/N into a hug. ‘You good?’ he murmured into her ear softly. She shook her head quickly, too quickly for Sam’s liking as she pulled back.
Sam stepped up and hugged her, his grip tightening as a small shudder ran through her chest.
‘Well, have your reunion and carry on. There’s another hunt in the next state that probably needs you boys more than we do. Ain’t that right, Y/N,’ Joey commented, with a tight smile.
She smiled, stepping back out of the safety of Sam’s arms. His fingers and arms itching to pull her back.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have called.’
‘Never apologise,’ Sam sighed. ‘If you need us for anything, we’re here. You know that.’
‘As for the hunt, well, we’re here. Might as well help. Besides, Y/N looks like she needs a nap or 6, so how about she sits this out and we help you hunt it,’ Dean smiled, not giving the hunter any other choice as he pushed past them into their room.
Sam gently lead Y/N inside, his eyes resting on the broken beer bottle that lay in pieces against the wall. He shifted his attention to Y/N, letting his eyes wander over her. His mind screaming at him for being wrong for not getting in here soon. He counted every freckle, checked every inch of her skin that he could see for new bruises, new scars, new marks. He came up empty.
Y/N caught him looking and shook her head, ‘I dropped it.’
Sam’s jaw tensed, she was lying and he knew better. He went to talk when Joey dropped heavily into the chair, giving the boys a basic run down that told them they weren’t needed. He watched Y/N carefully, keeping his mouth closed the whole time. Letting Dean take charge. The older Winchester, stepping up as boss and parent. Sam watched with relief as Dean ordered Joey to go get dinner while he booked the boys a room. A small amount of satisfaction filled him as Joey, despite the grumbling, did as he was told.
As the evening moved forward, Dean issued a new round of orders. Y/N was to go crash in the Winchester’s room. That allowed the boys to continue the research and for the sickly-looking hunter to get some rest. Joey started to protest as Y/N stood. Sam’s glare rested on the jerk, his jaw tensing as the troubled hunter stood.
Sam pushed himself up out of his chair, letting himself come to his full height. ‘She needs rest. And she’s going to get it. One way or another, I’ll make sure of it.’
Joey’s eyes flicked between the Winchesters and Y/N, before he settled back into his seat. Y/N glared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as Sam looked up at her. He gave her a sad smile and settled back into the research. He promised he wouldn’t interfere in their relationship. He wouldn’t try to convince her to leave him anymore. But he didn’t promise to stop from doing anything that was needed to keep her healthy and safe.
The hunt was every bit as painful as expected. Watching her continually chose Joey, killed Sam. Listening to the muffled arguments through the walls, seeing her blotchy face the next day, was an all too painful reminder.
As the hunt came to an end, he finally convinced her to go to coffee while Joey went to the bar with Dean. She’s been sporting a headache all day, the last thing she needed was a bar full of smoke, loud music and rowdy patrons.
They sat on the park bench, watching life around them as children laughed, families had evening picnics.
‘Why?’ he asked quietly. ‘Why put up with the tears? Why chose him when he treats you like crap?’
‘Sam,’ she warned.
‘I’m not wanting a fight, and I’m not trying to break my promise to you. I just want to understand. What makes him worth fighting for? How is he better for you than me?’ he whispered, his voice cracking.
She looked over at him, as the tears filled her eyes. Her voice catching as she tried again and again to answer.
‘If it’s because you can’t leave, I’ll help. You know that. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I will be there the whole way. If you’re too scared to be alone, don’t be, you have me. Always have, you know that. But why waste tears over him?’
She stood and kissed the top of his head gently, ‘I made my choice. You wouldn’t understand. Sorry, Sam.’
She walked off, once again making her choice.
Sam watched as Joey held her tightly by his side as the Winchester’s stood at the door saying their goodbyes. The dark circles that had started to fade from the beneath her eyes the past few days were back. Her cheeks and eyes mildly puffy. Dean stepped up and pulled her gently away and hugged her, whispering something in her ear as he kissed her cheek. Sam stepped up, pulling her into a hug. She gave a quick brief side one, refusing to let him hold her properly. He sighed, she was still mad.
‘Just call,’ he mumbled.
She gave a reluctant non-committal nod as she stepped back. Joey’s arm once again claiming her as his possession. Something had changed since last night. A sick sense of dread swirled in him. He tried to hold her eyes and failed as she looked everywhere but at him. He was missing something, and he couldn’t tell what. The realisation caused his frustration to grow. His anxiety starting to peak.
Dean’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, gently pulling him towards the car.
‘She’s… we can’t…’ he let the words die as he watched her. He didn’t know what to say. How to explain it. Thankfully Dean didn’t push.
The two sitting in silence as the impala pulled out of the carpark and moved down the street.
‘What…?’ Sam frowned as they drove around the block.
‘Don’t know,’ Dean admitted. ‘Something’s not right. You sense it too. I saw it on your face when you saw her this morning. It wasn’t last night either. I left before he did and as I was leaving he was chatting to some blonde. There was no proof it was more than just talk, so I left it. But the two had it out again last night-.’
‘I know, I was listening. She ended up yelling. She never yells back, never fights for herself. She just takes it.’
‘She didn’t let you hug her,’ Dean said quietly as he pulled the impala into a carpark just down from the motel.
‘No,’ Sam choked, ‘She didn’t.’
‘She winced when I squeezed her.’
Sam’s head snapped around, his pain fading out to anger.
‘I ain’t saying anything happened. I doubt it would. She wouldn’t let it. But I’m thinking until we know she’s ok, we just take a few days off. Rest that sort of thing,’ Dean suggested casually.
Sam nodded, his gaze resting back on room 203 as it sat in the distance.
‘I asked her, why she chose him.’
‘And?’
‘Never answered.’
‘That’s cos she never chose him,’ Dean admitted. ‘She wasn’t interested in Joey. Her parents thought he was the ideal guy. Charming, sweet, good hunter, took care of her, all that crap. Reliable, stable, dedicated to the hunt, you know the whole package. But Y/N wasn’t interested.’ Sam tore his eyes from the motel as he watched his brother. ‘Deal was, she try a relationship and if it doesn’t work, they will stay out of her life and let her pick whatever hunter she wanted, regardless of if it kept her in the life or had her settle down all apple pie.’
Sam swallowed back tears as he turned to the motel once more.
‘She was going to break up with him after a week. At least that was what she told me when I tried to talk to her after than massive fight you two had when she agreed to date Joey in the first place. Then the demon got her parents and well, she loved them, Sammy. And they chose Joey.’
‘They would haven’t have wanted him if they knew.’
‘Nope, I dare say he would have been another missing person’s case if her Dad found out.’
The corner of Sam’s lip twitched, there was no doubt there. Her dad would have come up with the most painful way to kill him and done it.
‘Their only issue with you was that you wanted out of the hunt, which gave her ideas. They were so worried they’d lose her if she stopped fighting. If she tried normal. That despite being happy, she would have been dead.’
‘I’d never have let that happen.’
‘I know.’
Time ticked by, but Sam didn’t move. He watched, his hands grasping the phone tightly that sat in his hands. It wasn’t until the curtain move that he allowed himself to shift. Throwing himself out he car as Y/N’s back slammed against the window pane. Dean close behind him. He burst into the room, catching Y/N as she fell backwards. In the swift motion, slamming his fist into Joey’s nose. Dean collided with the jerk, sending him back into the kitchen cabinet. Sam gently brought Y/N to the ground, as he looked her over. Pulling her in close as he swallowed back a tirade of abuse. Her lip was split, her cheek swollen.
He barely listened as Dean hit Joey again, before throwing him out the room. He was too focused on the sobbing woman in his arms. Too concerned that she was now broken.
‘Let’s get her out of here,’ Dean said quietly as he moved to pack up Y/N’s things. Sam didn’t argue, but he refused to move as he stayed holding her tight. For as much his benefit as hers. Too scared to open his mouth. Too scared he’d make it worse when he told her off for staying with Joey, for not listening, for thinking that he was better than Sam. For thinking Sam couldn’t treat her better than this.
Sam looked up from his book at the soft knock on his door. He gave Y/N a sad smile as he shifted making room for her on the bed next to him.
‘It’s a good book,’ she smiled, gesturing to the novel that now rested on his bedside cabinet.
‘It is. Bit dramatic in places, but you were right the storyline’s interesting.’
She settled against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Even in the dull light of his room the bruising was still visible.
‘He came home covered in lipstick. Literally, everywhere. He was rather drunk and forgot to shower and wash it off before he stripped off and tried to sleep with me.’
Sam’s eyes grew wide as he watched her. Y/N refusing to meet his look.
‘It wasn’t the first time. But it’s the last.’
‘How long had he been hitting you?’
‘Since just after the wolf hunt. He wasn’t happy we were meeting for coffee. Or talking. Or anything. He hates you. Respects your brother but hates you.’
Sam nodded, he didn’t need an explanation. He was aware of Joey’s feelings. There wasn’t a time they hadn’t argued.
‘I just wanted to do right by them. My whole life I was fighting what they wanted for me,’ she whispered as a sob broke through the surface.
‘Oh, Y/N,’ Sam sighed as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head. ‘They were so proud of you, regardless of the fights. You are exactly what they wanted. You. Strong, proud, a fighter. You’re you. And they loved you for it.’
She cried herself to sleep, her sobs slowing coming further and further apart. Sam kissed her head again as he settled into sleep. Letting himself enjoy the beat of her heart against his chest, and way her fingers tangled in his shirt.
She stirred, her head lifting slowly as she blinked at him. Sam smiled softly at the sight he had dreamt of for so long. His lips itching to kiss away the bruising. To make her feel better but he fought it. He gently kissed her forehead, letting his fingers softly run across her bare forearm.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Better than I have in a while,’ she admitted, a tiny shy smile played on her lips. ‘I don’t remember the last time I slept that well,’ her eyes dropped as the colour rose high into her cheeks.
Sam grinned, tightening his arm around her that bit more, ‘Can’t say I’ve slept that well before either.’
‘Did you sleep?’ she laughed, looking back up at him.
‘No, not really,’ he chuckled. ‘I was kinda busy enjoying the moment.’
‘It was never about thinking he treated me better, or my feelings,’ she admitted quietly.
‘I know. Well, now I do. Dean told him.’
‘Stupid snitch,’ she grumbled.
Sam felt her shift as she moved to roll away, but held firm, holding her tight against him as he continued to let his fingers trace patterns along her arm. He smiled as she let out a dramatic sigh and settled back into his arms. Her hand sliding across his chest as she held him back.
‘I ended it,’ she admitted. ‘I’d wanted to so many times but never could. That guilt that I was stopping that one final request of theirs was too much. But this time…I couldn’t keep doing it, Sammy. I hurt too much to stay. It hurt leaving you each time. I couldn’t do it again. You were leaving in the morning and I didn’t want you leaving without me, not again. But he…I had no choice.’
‘Why didn’t you say something? Call? A message? I would have come and stopped it. I wouldn’t have left? Christ, Y/N, any sign you needed me I would have been there.’
‘I know. He threatened you both last night. He was so drunk and in so much of a rage, I believed him.’
Sam sighed and held her closer.
‘What were you doing in town?’
‘Something was wrong, we both picked up on it and decided to stay.’
They lay in silence, her fingers gently moving back and forward across his chest. Sam’s own continuing to draw over her arm and now side. He felt her squirm slightly and stopped momentarily as a small smile spread across his lips.
‘Don’t,’ she warned as his fingers moved once more.
‘I didn’t realise you were ticklish.’
‘I’m not, I’m just sensitive to-.’ She squealed as she tried to roll away, Sam pulling her in a tickling her gently as he tried to avoid the bruise on her ribs.
‘Sam,’ she laughed, as he rolled them over, pining her slightly as he continued to tickle her, making her laugh. A sound he didn’t realise how much he had missed until now. He eventually gave up and pushed her now messy hair from her face. Smiling softly as she grinned breathlessly at him. She was beautiful, more now than she had ever been. His body moved without thinking. His lips softly touching hers, pulling back suddenly as he went to apologise for what he had done. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, causing him to stop as his own lips turned upwards. He moved in again, this time well aware of what was happening. His lips moving against hers as she kissed him back.
‘I will treat you better than he did, I swear,’ he promised. ‘There will never be anyone else, I’ll never raise a hand to you, never hurt you, never yell, I’ll-.’
‘Sam,’ she interrupted, as she ran her fingers gently through his hair. ‘I know. I’ve always known. It’s why I hated you bringing it up. I fought for us before Joey and wanted us the whole way through. It’s why he hated you.’
Sam smiled softly as he kissed her again.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled against his lips.
‘Don’t be,’ he breathed as he kissed her again, pulling her in closer as he gave her a taste of just how much better he would be treating her.
Pairing: Sam x Reader, mentioned and potential Dean x Reader.
Request: “Honestly you're my favorite writer on here and I'm surprised you aren't super popular. I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is one of Sam's college friends and they used to be a hunter and had a fling with Dean before they met Sam. If you don't want to that's cool. Have a great day!!!"
Warnings: none.
A/N: First time writing Sam and it came out not so horrible (..i hope?)
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She’s impossible to be around like this.
For most of exam season it’s the same: late nights, the apartment reduced to a den of empty cans of monster and red-bull in every corner, worksheets askew the room and the only illumination being the robotic glow of her laptop screen onto her face.
When Sam gets home from his lecture Thursday night, ruddy-faced and starved of sleep, he finds her on the couch in their living room, fingers clacking against the keys of her computer. The apartment is tiny. Only a few square meters and their kitchen is practically the same breathing space, separated only by a marble counter.
Y/N’s eyes flick up at the sound of the door clicking open. He shrugs off his coat and dumps it on the table.
“Hey.” She smiles at him, but it doesn’t meet her eyes; she’s just as tired he can see, the exhaustion written out in the dullness of the her skin and effort it takes just looking up from her screen, and he crosses the room in three long strides, settling down beside her with a sigh.
Sam pulls her in, kissing the top of her head. “Working?”
“Yeah.” Y/N sighs, gaze drifting to the opened tab before her. “Theology exam tomorrow.”
“You know that whole last minute revision doesn’t work? Believe me, I know first-hand.”
“It’s not last-minute.”
Sam almost laughs at her stubbornness as she shuts her laptop and leans into him like it’s been an anticipation all day. She curls against his side, shutting her eyes as his hand swoops around her shoulder.
“Do you think I’ll do well…”
“I don’t know.” Sam’s voice just barely scratches the silence around them, hoarse and drenched in exhaustion. “With the way you’ve been studying I’m sure it’s nothing to be afraid of. Just relax.”
“Kind of hard to do. It’s finals.”
“It’s just an exam.”
“Yeah, and my college fund is just money.”
He knows how antsy she gets when it comes to school; for all the time they’ve known each other, wound together by fate, Sam’s witnessed all the breakdowns and bitten nails and ink stains on her skin, almost like, overwhelmed with knowledge, the words were diffusing themselves to the surface. And in a way he’s always envied her devotion because it’s talent just picking yourself up after a failure, he knows that much.
Both of them have had a long day. Sam stands and leads them into the bedroom, the gentle lull of crickets and traffic acting as their lullaby as they lay down to sleep. Y/N attaches herself to his side and he lets her, feeling a warmth settle over them like a cloak. A comfort settles in his chest. Miles away from Kansas, but he can’t remember ever feeling more at home.
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He completely forgot to tell her Sam realizes. A little too late.
It’s three weeks into April and he’s juggling lectures and assignments with what little time he has for himself spent studying when the thought strikes him. In the comfort of their kitchen, stirring a pot of noodles, the younger Winchester feels his muscles tense up. He glances back at Y/N—with the exams over she can finally put her feet up, and she lays sprawled out across the sofa, socked feet suspended in the air as the record-player buzzes.
He’s not sure where to start.
He got the call about a week ago. It was alarming and new and he’d just stepped out of one of Mr. Linley’s lectures, expecting anything but his phone to go off. Not to mention, before then, they hadn’t spoken for—what? Eight months? Brother or not, Dean wasn’t one for keeping in touch when he felt slighted.
And that was the odd part.
The call hadn’t been stilted and painful. Sam remembers it clearly: the baritone of his brother’s voice, the nonchalance that wafted between them like it hadn’t been ages since they talked. Like there was anything but poignant memories and resentments between them. And then Dean had dropped the bomb—a visit.
When dinner’s ready Sam takes the pan off the stove and flicks the flame off. He carries it to the dining table, setting down their bowls, lobbing full ladles of stew into the dishes like this is the domestic life he was built for—he knows it’s a ruse. If second thoughts about his destiny weren’t already uprising thoughts then this whole situation has just set the freight-train on its tracks.
Because there’s always been the stubborn inkling of doubt that tells him his hands are just too bloody, and his heart too heavy, and his past too dark to pretend he’s fit for anything other than hunting.
“Pasta again,” Y/N looks up at him, a shimmer in her eyes and lips rested in a gentle smile. “Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you get tired of all the carbs?”
Sam glances up at her, then laughs as he settles down. “Do you?”
“Sometimes.” He picks at the skin of his palm and she teases, mouth curved like a Nike tick. “It wouldn’t kill for us to try something fancier—bake turkey strips with potatoes? Fillet mignon?”
“Peanut butter sandwiches—the possibilities are endless.”
“Samuel…”
“Y/n.”
The coil in his chest finally snaps and Sam finds the courage to look up at her.
His voice has turn solemn and low. Moonlight seeping in through the curtains paints the girl in front of him luminescent and glassy, like she’s a mirage, some wicked dream his mind’s conjured up to play a trick on him—and it sure feels like it.
Swallowing, he pushes his food away and straightens out.
Y/N’s waiting, her food untouched. It’s sudden and foreign and he can trace the worry in her lulled voiced.“What is it?”
“I have something to tell you. Don’t worry, it’s not…” He shuts his eyes, breathes. The words come clumsy and jagged. “It’s not bad, just—maybe a little out of the blue? Y/N, you remember Dean, right?”
“Your brother.”
“Right. Well a few weeks ago…” Sam tells her everything; he tries not to come across as overbearing with the suggestion and laces his words with careful undertones he hopes will convince—law-school’s taught him the art of sweet-talking (maybe even manipulating?) and in the end he feels he’s made a decent enough argument.
Because Y/N looks at him, lip tugged between her teeth and face twisted like she’s registering his words—not disregarding or judging. No. Just…understanding.
His brother visiting?
“I thought you guys had some sort of beef going on?” It’s a vague memory but she remembers Sam mentioning it: a hotheaded brother and the ties he’d severed just to come here. An absence of a father gave way for their relationship to root itself and flourish. Until law school came. Y/N and the life he built himself, Sam says, convincing himself more than anyone else. There was the decision to study and the stark difference between the people either of them had grown into. And then somewhere amidst the turmoil of their relationship she’d met his brother.
Lime-green eyes and constellations on his cheeks and hands layered with thick callouses. Dean was everything she’d expected him to be—a little too much. A little too rough around the edges, a little too complicated and broken little boy and she’d welcomed him into their hole-in-the-wall-home because he was her friend’s brother.
Neither of them knew what would come from it.
There wasn’t any way that they could—Dean with his bright eyes and lopsided smiles he’d throw at any girl and her, taken up by school. No one would have guessed; not even Y/N, hungry hands clawing at the hem of his shirt one night, not six shots down and looming on the edge of bad decisions while Sam was out studying for a final.
Y/N hasn’t told her boyfriend this.
Not for the past couple of months. She’s not sure she can. Sam is kind and patient and nothing like her, and maybe that’s why she was so drawn to his brother—calloused from a life on the road, one scratch away from caving into himself. Y/N remembers Dean. Not that she wants to. It’s more of a guilt than a fondness.
And it shows the next day when they’re at the airport, a pit yawning open in her stomach.
In the distance they can the planes descend with a whistle, heightened by the chatter of intercoms and travelers moving through transit.
With her arm looped through his, she keeps close to her boyfriend. There’s a sea of people blocking out the gate from the arrivals section, and, watching Sam stretch his neck for a better view, she tugs on his sleeve.
He glances down at her and Y/N strains a smile. “Do you see him?”
“Not yet.” He answers. His gaze shifts back to the gate and her own eyes follow his in wait of the elder Winchester.
If she remembers right, Dean hates flying. Sam’s mentioned it before and she even got hear it right from the horse’s mouth that one time they were driving to Michigan for spring break, so it’s a wonder what got him on the plane here in the first place.
They stay close as travelers scud by. She clings onto Sam’s arm, more out of anxiety than fear of crowd and it only takes a few seconds before she feels the hammering in her chest halt at the sight of Dean.
It’s a fraction of a second. She doesn’t have time to respond, anyway—Sam’s already tugging on her arm, moving towards the gates, and she swallows as they cross through the crowd. Dean hasn’t changed; he looks wilder, hair askew and stubble-jawed and there’s traces of fear still prominent in his green gaze, but it suddenly melts away once he sees his baby brother
The younger Winchester’s face splits into a smile as he goes in for a hug, chuckling. “Finally.”
“Tell me about it.” Dean pulls away, mouth quirked at the corner before his focus slides to her.
Y/N tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. There’s a stiffness in her back. A reluctance running through her. The elder Winchester eyes rake over her like he’s trying to remember if he knows her and she can’t blame him considering how long it’s been.
“Is this…”
“You remember, Y/N, right?” Sam wraps an arm around her shoulder warmly, the skin on her arms prickling.
“Y/N...” Dean draws out the name with his eyes narrowed; she’s sure he does, it reads in his green gaze, but the confirmation is a delayed ‘ah’ and nod. “Yeah—yeah, freshman year, let you stay at her dorm.” He finally smiles. “Hey.”
“I didn’t tell you but we’ve been dating for a while.” Sam says and shrugs. “So…surprise.”
“Dating?”
“A lot’s happened in the past couple of years—don’t worry, we can catch up on the way to the dorm, but we should get going. Traffic and all.”
“Rush hour.” Y/N supplements.
Dean’s eyes shift to her briefly. She’s sure she catches a feint confusion swimming in bloodshot green, but if there’s anything to it, he doesn’t say. There’s not time to. A lot swimming in his head mixed with the panic from the flight and they’re trying to dodge the chaos on the roads, so instead she strains a smile and they begin moving.
Lugging his bag onto his back, he follows Sam out the airport, but as Y/N trails closely behind she can feel the pit in her stomach growing wider...
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It’s been over a month since this request was sent in and I’m an actual tool for posting this late, but I wanted to be as content with it as possible.
I hope you enjoyed this, anon! I’m still figuring out Part 2 and what comes next but feel free to message me and give some ideas of what you want to happen next.
Likes, reblogs and follows are greatly appreciated (a little less than 100 away from my next thousand so ayye); despite my irregular posting schedule I do take requests lol. My inbox is always open.
Characters: Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Pairing: eventual Sam x Reader
Words: 2748
Summary: based on the second episode of the first season of the show.
Warnings: language, show level angst and violence.
A/N: here goes the second part of my series rewrite. Hope you guys like it! This is not beta’d. All mistakes are mine.
Catch up
Wendigo - Part 2
After your talk with Mr. Shaw, you go to get a room at a motel. The three of you are walking through the corridor trying to find your room.
“Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors,” states Dean, “If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”
“So it's probably something else, something corporeal,” Sam states.
“Corporeal? Excuse me, professor,” Dean teases, making you snort.
“Shut up. So what do you think?” Sam says.
“The claws, the speed that it moves...could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature.” Dean says.
“Yeah, and all of that leads to the same thing, that it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it,” you agree with him.
Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, then the weapons box, and props it open with a shotgun. He puts some guns in a duffel bag. Sam leans in.
“We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.”
“No, we should try to stop her, we don’t know what’s out there yet,” you agreed.
“Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?” Dean asked sarcastically.
“Yeah,” Sam said.
Dan looks at Sam, “Her brother's missing. She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend,” he says picking up his duffel.
“Finding Dad's not enough?” he asks, slamming the weapons box shut and closing the trunk. “Now we gotta babysit too?”
You and Dean stare at Sam.
“What?” he asks with an annoyed expression.
“Nothing,” you and Dean answer at the same time.
He throws the duffel bag at Sam and walks off, you look at him for a little while and then follow Dean inside the motel room.
You arrived at the forest, and when you pull up you see Haley, Ben and a man talking. They all stare at the three of you when you get out of the car.
Sam opens the back door of the Impala and pulls out the duffel bag.
“You guys got room for three more?” Dean asked
“Wait, you want to come with us?” Haley said surprised.
“Who are these guys?” asked the man that was with them.
“Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue,” she scoffed.
Sam heads past everyone.
“You're rangers?” the man asks.
“That's right,” Dean nods.
“Yeah, we are,” you agree.
“And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?”
Dean looks down at himself., “Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts,” he shakes his head.
Dean heads past Haley, you follow him reaching Sam.
“What, you think this is funny?” the guy scoffs, “It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt.”
You and Sam turn back to look at them.
“Believe me,” you say, “I know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help them find their brother, that's all.”
Dean shrugs and heads past you, you shrug at the guy and follow his steps.
All of you hikes through the forest. This guy Roy is in the lead, followed by Dean, Haley, Ben, and Sam and you stay in the back bringing the gear.
“Roy,” Dean calls, “you said you did a little hunting.”
“Yeah, more than a little,” he answers.
“Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?”
“Mostly buck,” Roys says, “sometimes bear.”
Dean passes Roy. “Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?”
Roy grabs Dean by the shoulder and pulls him back, SAM and you look on.
“Whatcha doing, Roy?” Dean inquires.
Roy grabs a stick and pokes something on the floor, and when it snaps closed you realized it was a bear trap Dean had almost stepped in. Haley looks annoyed.
“You should watch where you're stepping,” Roy mocks, “Ranger.”
He drops the stick and retakes the lead.
“It's a bear trap.” Dean smiles, shrugging it off as if it was nothing.
“I’m not used to this amount of exercise,” you tell Sam.
“What do you mean?” he laughs, “We’re always running for our lives.”
“I know,” you sigh, “But on those moments we have adrenaline running through our system, so I don’t feel anything, but let’s be honest, this is boring. I mean, I love hiking and being surrounded by nature, but still… I’m saying a lot of buts”
“Yeah,” he smirks at you, “You are. I get you, though.”
You smile at him and you continue hiking in silence. Haley walks faster to catch up to Dean.
“You didn't pack any provisions,” she points out, “You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers.”
She grabs Dean's arm. “So who the hell are you?”
Ben goes past Haley and Dean. Sam and you look at Dean, who indicates with his expression for both of you to go on by, you raise your eyebrows at him but you obey him, Sam following you. As far as you can hear, he’s telling her that Sam’s his brother, you’re their friend and they’re looking for their father, who might be there.
Later that day, you all keep walking through the forest. Roy is leading the way, followed by Sam and you, Ben, Haley, and Dean.
“This is it. Blackwater Ridge,” announces Roy.
Sam heads past Roy. “What coordinates are we at?”
Roy pulls out a GPS, “Thirty-five and minus one-eleven,” he answers.
Dean comes up to you, meanwhile you remain aware, trying to listen to something that can work as some kind of lead to catching whatever creature was there.
“You hear that?” Dean asks.
“Absolutely nothing, no wind... Nothing,” you say taking a look around, “I can hear the blood flowing through my ears.”
“Yeah. Not even crickets,” Sam agrees.
“I'm gonna go take a look around,” Roy announces.
“You shouldn't go off by yourself,” Sam told him.
“That's sweet. Don't worry about me.”
“Dude, seriously,” you try to stop him, “We should stay together.”
Roy takes a look at you, waves his gun and pushes between Dean and Sam, to retake the lead. Dean turns back to the others as Ben and Haley catch up.
“All right,” Dean says, “everybody stays together. Let's go.”
While you wait for Roy, Haley sits down next to a rock, Ben’s leaning against a tree. Dean climbs the rock near Haley. You see Ben spotting something and goes to have a look, you decide to follow him, and Sam does too.
“What did you find Ben?” you ask him.
He moves a tree branch aside to have a look at what he saw, and it’s a stick figure.
“That’s a hell of a find, Ben,” Sam congratulates,
“Are those… Anasazi?” You ask, amazed.
“Yeah,” Sam nods.
You eye Dean coming over to you.
“What’s that?” Ben asks.
“Ancient Indians…” you answer, “First Nations, they were a whole civilization that just vanished. No one knows what happened.”
Another look at the stick figure.
“I've seen that somewhere before,” Sam says.
“Haley!” you hear Roy call, “Over here!”
Haley hurries to Roy, followed closely by the rest of you, coming to a halt.
“Oh my God,” she breathes.
The tents are torn open and bloody and all the supplies are scattered around the campsite.
“Looks like a grizzly,” Roy points out.
All of you start to walk to take a look around the area, although there is no sign of anybody being there.
“Tommy?” Haley asks.
She takes off her backpack and goes through the campsite. “Tommy!” She yells.
Sam moves to catch up with Haley trying to quiet her, but she yells again, calling for Tommy. Sam steps in front of her and shushes her.
“Why?” she asks.
“Something might still be out there,” Sam answers.
“Sam! Y/N!” you can hear Dean calling.
You and Sam jog over to Dean, and you crouch next to him.
“The bodies were dragged from the campsite,” he tells you, “But here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird.”
You watch a trail of stirred dirt, clearly showing that someone had been dragged. The three of you stand up.
“I'll tell you what,” he makes a pause, “that's no skinwalker or black dog.”
Dean turns around and goes back to the campsite. You take a last look at the trail and you and Sam follow him. When you get back with the rest you see Haley picking up a cell phone with blood drops on it. She starts crying, turns the phone over and the back is open. Dean crouches next to her.
“Hey, he could still be alive,” he encourages her.
Haley gives Dean a look.
“Help!” you can hear someone crying for help, making all of you stop and listen, “Help!”
With the second scream, everyone runs to the aid of the shouter, Roy taking the lead.
“Help! Somebody!”
When you get to the place you all look around trying to see the person who was crying for help, but you find no one.
“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?” Haley asked.
You listen, but then again, nothing.
“Everybody back to camp,” you tell them.
You run back to the campsite, and once you get there, you see that all the supplies are missing.
“Our packs!” Haley complains.
“So much for my GPS and my satellite phone,” Roy sounded defeated, crouching.
“What the hell is going on?” Haley asks.
“It's smart,” Sam says. “It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help.”
“You mean someone,” says Roy, “some nutjob out there just stole all our gear.”
Sam goes to Dean and makes a sign to you to come closer.
“I need to speak with you. In private,” he commands.
The three of you walk a little away from the group. “Good...” he says, “Let me see Dad's journal.”
Dean hands it over. Sam opens it and flips through until he finds a particular page.
“All right, check that out,” he points to a First Nations–style drawing of a figure.
“Oh come on,” Dean argues, “Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west.”
“Think about it, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice,” he points out.
“It actually makes sense,” you look at Sam, “Wendigos appear a lot in the Anasazi and Cree lore. And that thing Ben had found earlier? It was Anasazi.”
“Exactly,” Sam nods.
“Great,” Dean pouts. “Well,” he says taking out his pistol, “this is useless.”
Sam gives Dean back John's journal and heads past Dean stopping for a moment.
“We gotta get these people to safety,” you tell them.
You get back at the campsite, and Sam addresses the group.
“All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten...more complicated.”
“What?” Haley asks.
“Kid, don't worry,” Roy dismisses, “Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it.”
“It's not me I'm worried about,” Sam tells him. “If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now.”
“One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders,” he argues.
“Relax,” Dean warns.
“We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right?” Sam tells him.
“You know, we’re just-” you start, “We’re just trying to protect all of you.”
“You protect me?” Roy defies Sam, stepping right in front of him. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.”
“Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter,” Sam tries to warn. “It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here.”
Roy laughs, “You know you're crazy, right?”
“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—” Sam almost slips out, but Dean pushes him.
Haley yells at Roy.
“Chill out,” you tell Sam.
“Stop. Stop it,” Haley says, “Everybody just stops. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him.”
A long pause remains between all of you.
“It's getting late,” Dean says. “This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”
“How?” Haley wonders.
Night fell over your heads while you’re still outside in the forest. The group has built a campfire, and Dean was drawing protection symbols on the dirt around the campsite while Haley pokes at the fire.
“One more time, that's—” she starts.
“Anasazi symbols,” Dean tells her. “It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them.”
Roy laughs, gun over his shoulder.
“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” you sass him.
Dean heads over to sit next to Sam and you, who are at the edge of the campsite. He looks at you and you shrug.
“You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?” he asks Sam.
“Dean—” he starts but Dean cuts him off.
“No, you're not fine. You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?”
A pause.
“Dad's not here,” another pause. “I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?”
“Yeah, you're probably right,” Dean agrees. “Tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek.”
“Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road,” He looks at you and then at Dean. “Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?”
Dean stands up and crouches in front of Sam, holding up John’s journal. “This is why,” he says. “This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business."
Sam shakes his head and stares at Dean, “That makes no sense.” he runs his hands on his face, “Why doesn't he just—call us? Why doesn't he—tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”
“I dunno,” Dean answers him, “But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it.”
“Dean...no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about.”
You look down at the floor.
“Okay, all right, Sam, we'll find them,” Dean concedes, “I promise. Listen to me. You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.”
Sam looks down, then up at you.
“How do you do it? How does Dad do it?”
Dean looks over at Haley and Ben, you follow his gaze.
“Well for one, them,” Dean says.
You nod, and Sam looks over at them, too.
“I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable.”
A pause.
“I'll tell you what else helps,” you grin, Sam, looking back at you, “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can.”
“Hell yeah we do,” Dean smirks at you.
Sam smiles and you hear a twig snapping.
“Help me!” you hear a man screams, “Please!”
You all stand and readies his gun.
“Help!”
Sam shines a flashlight around and you try to take a better look.
“He's trying to draw us out,” you realize, “Just stay cool, stay put.”
“Inside the magic circle?” Roy mocks in a sarcastic tone.
“Help! Help me, ple-!” he screams and then you can hear some growling.
Roy points his gun at the sound, “Okay, that's no grizzly.”
Something rushes past and Haley shrieks.
“It's here,” Sam announces.
“Shit, it moves way too fast” you mumble.
Roy shoots at the rustling one, two, three times.
“I hit it!” he yells and runs to see what he hit.
“Roy, no! Roy!
“Don't move,” Dean commands to Haley and Ben.
Haley's holding a fire stick as a weapon.
“That’s actually a very good idea,” you tell her, staying behind protecting them while Sam and Dean run after Roy.
Next Part
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