#I'm sorry canon ect | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartthrobin · 8 months

Text

and i serve the fairy queen, to dew her orbs upon the green (3)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 6.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, some jealous sammy, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), town (still!) being mean to reader, some shaky goblin lore, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 3 of my little fairy series! i'm sorry it took so long, uni is fighting me with both hands at the moment. but i promise the last part won't take as long :3 enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you thought about Sam Winchester in a way that couldn't possibly be normal. but who did he think he was, walking around buying you crocodiles and sending you his jacket and looking so damn handsome all the time?

part one part two part four

Four thirty-five. Long hand brushing over the seven, short hand stretching just past the four.

You wondered if the clock was actually ticking. You could still hear it somewhere around the time the little hand was knocking up against the one, but now it was quiet.

Had your mind drowned it out or was the clock even working? It was actually only half visible against the wall of the corridor past the bars of your cell, so maybe--

There was a booming crack from somewhere down the corridor, like someone had thrown a hefty stack of papers down on a desk.

You sunk deeper into the suit jacket. It was warm, smelt of cologne, and at some point around two o' clock the smell had coaxed you off to sleep against the concrete wall.

There was a long stretch of time where you wondered if those kids out there felt the same. If their little heads were pressed against a cold hard wall, convincing themselves to sleep even if just for a while.

You wondered if they were together. You hoped they were together.

There was a tiny window in the cell. When it was still daylight you could see a tree shivering in the wind, now you could only hear it rustling.

It was an easy escape, you knew that. You could have yourself out of the cold, grey room before the long hand found the eight but ... alas. Maybe it was just better to wait it out.

Chlorokinesis. A neat little trick, but one that would have you behind bars again at another time, or tied to a wooden stake and burnt.

The latter sounded mildly more interesting than staring at the quiet clock against the wall.

But you couldn't. If not for the exposure of yourself and the risk on your livelihood, for the look on Sam's face when you proved him and his brother's doubts true. When you tore through the bar cells, whipped officers aside like chess pieces on a shaky board and proved yourself the monster at the end of town. The witch.

You sighed loudly into the cell, your hands found your face. The sleeves on the jacket were far too long for your arms and the smell of Sam surrounded you again.

God, you couldn't catch a break.

Beyond the town's cold shoulder and the unplanned arrest: Sam Winchester's face had been plaguing you since the moment you found him and his brother on your doorstep.

It was like you could feel when he grew near.

Your palms would warm, as if pressed around a warm mug, heart-rate quickening like a hare through the brush and your wings would shiver in and out of sight: quick enough to avoid the accusatory gazes of humans. They never noticed anything further than the tip of their noses anyway.

He didn't make things any better, mind you.

With his tall figure, leaving you frantically lost in his shadow, and buying you crocodiles and sending you his jacket.

The officer hadn't mentioned it was him, but you knew. If not by it's size, by it's warmth and it's smell and the way your wings pressed happily against the silky inner-stitching.

It had occurred to you that they probably still had the intention of killing you before leaving town, as the Winchester name suggested. They killed monsters, it was part of the gig.

The thought hadn't made the dips and slopes of Sam's face any easier to digest. Hadn't made the raging urge to tug him in by his collar against your lips any less.

It was so pathetic, the whole thing!

Your mother had promised you a handsome elf, or maybe a brawny satyr. That your arms would gleam with the shine of sword-swung wounds and the bites of arrows.

But you were bruised and torn with bullet holes and kitchen blades and sharp teeth.

Patience, patience, patience.

That's what they preached, humans and fairy-folk alike.

Everyone just had to wait. To be patient. They'll come along when you least expect them.

It was easy to jump, to imagine that every kind glance across the room or brush of an arm in a crowded coffee shop was the one. It was suffocating, the entire affair!

So you pulled your sleeves from your face, turning to lean your head back against the crumbly stone wall as far away as your nose could turn from the scent. Sam's scent.

You stupidly pushed Sam from your brain, like you'd done time and time before when the winter crept colder and colder each year and the yearning for a warmth crept stronger and stronger.

Instead, you pondered on your animals, in a cold room just behind your own. You could hear their yipping and whining sometimes through the wall. Your chest tightened at the sound and you'd patted away the warm tears down your face when you did.

There was another sound down the corridor. A screech. A chair scraping over the stone floors, then footsteps.

They neared until another faceless officer appeared into view. His paces jingled with a ring keys hanging at his side. You perked up at the sound.

He avoided your eyes, instead he worked to slot the key into the cell door. "Twelve hours is up. You can go."

You rose on unsteady legs, calves and thighs frozen stiff against the steel bench. "I can go?"

"'s what I said."

You nodded, tightening the jacket around your frame. You stepped past him into the fuzzy yellow light of the corridor and he handed you a manila envelope, the shape of your house keys lumped under it's wet glue seal.

"My animals?"

The man still wasn't meeting your face. "You can collect them after eight o' clock when the station opens."

Your fingers twisted between your palms.

"Okay." It came out small, tired. "Thank you."

He didn't respond, instead pointing you down the corridor.

In the foyer, the desks had been abandoned. Lights were off closer to the back of the room. You figured the guard at your cell was the only one on nightshift.

By the door was a long wooden bench, there was a man hunched over: head leaning into dinner plate sized hands.

His gaze lifted at the sound of your footsteps.

That rolling feeling of warmth rushed down your throat and between your organs again.

"Sam?"

He rose to his feet, a hand pressing his long chestnut hair out his face.

"Hey." He sighed and you neared him. Closer up, you could make out the exhaustion buzzing around his eyes. His shoulders slumped with it too.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" You laughed softly, laughter laced in confusion.

He shrugged, mouth forming around words and reshaping them a couple times before settling on: "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

The situation dawned on you, smile slipping quickly off your face and the relief you'd felt at his presence rinsed out with guilt.

"You didn't ... have you been here all night?"

Sam swiped at his mouth with one of his wide paws, he shrugged again. "Yeah, uhm, I was."

Your throat tightened at the revelation. "You ... you shouldn't have. I was just fine--"

"Yeah, in this freezing station where all these people think you kidnap children."

Lips parted in still unformed words, you watched his fidgeting hands, but he stopped you before you could say anything else.

"It's fine. I wanted to be here." His eyes were soft, sincere. "Anyways, you hungry? Want a coffee or something?"

"Uhm--"

"Actually, you probably just wanna go home ... I can call a lift--?"

"No," it came out louder than either of you had expected. Sam blinked at you. You swallowed hard. "I-- yeah, I would actually. I'm starving. I'm sure you are, too. There's a diner a few blocks down from here i-if you wanna walk?"

Sam nodded slowly.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

Beyond the wind brushing at leaves down the sidewalk, it was quiet outside the station. There was not one other person down the foggy streetlamp-lit road.

Sam's strides were long, reaching further with each step wherein took you two of the same. His crisp white shirt shone starkly even in the low light and his tie grappled tiredly around the bend of his neck.

"So," his voice ripped your eyes from were they'd been nudging at the bottom-most button on his shirt, lingering dangerously close to the line of his belt. "What happened?"

A velvety red pressed against your cheeks. You hoped the darkness hid your quiet embarrassment.

"Uh, I was out to go check on some trees that were showing signs of sickness a few days ago." You shrugged, hands fiddling with the manila envelope. "Also, Goose needed a walk. I think he bit one of the officers."

Sam laughed at that. The sound made your throat tighten.

His head was thrown back against his shoulders, hair tickling the space between it's blades. With the angled light of the lamps, his neck became a mosaic of shadows. It's slopes and dips proving it an alter to which you'd decided you could pray at forever.

Your own laugh came out breathless, it tinkled lightly beside his.

"Don't laugh! I feel bad about it."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't."

You shrugged. Flickers of splintered memories blinked at you behind your tired lids.

The thud of officers crushing through the underbrush towards you. Goose's wild, scared yips. The burnt cloud of a cigarette suffocated beneath a boot, tossed somewhere between the fresh green blades of your front lawn.

"They were just doing their job."

Sam's eyes found you, you could feel his gaze warming the side of your face, but he didn't answer. Instead he ran a hand up his forearm, then down again.

Your eyes widened, "Oh--oh, I'm so rude ..."

Beneath the stronghold of it's thick weight against your shoulders, you'd abandoned the memory of Sam's jacket over your frame. You went to shrug it off.

"You must be freezing, I didn't even say thank you--"

You'd stalled to a pause, sleeves halfway down your arms, when two warm palms closed over your shoulders. They sent a sharp, blistering shudder through every molecule in your body.

There was a loud tinkle and your shimmering pair of opalescent wings popped into view. They glowed faintly in the dark space.

Sam's eyes flew open widely, his hands pulled back suddenly as if you'd burnt him.

"I'm ... sorry," he shook his head. "I w-was just ... gonna say that y-you should keep it on. You're gonna freeze in that tiny little dress."

You watched where his eyes struggled to part from the shining protrusions behind your head. You turned over his sharp features in your mind carefully.

"Thank you."

He nodded, gaze flickering between your wings and your face.

The warmth of your palm sunk into your fingers where you wrung them out.

"You can touch them, if you want?"

Sam's eyebrows flew into his hairline, his mouth opened ... there was an almost no, that's okay forming on his lips, you were sure you saw it, but instead he nodded.

"Yeah ... I do."

You nodded too, slipping the jacket to bunch just over your wrists so the wings could stretch comfortably out past your frame.

Sam stepped impossibly close, bringing you nose to nose with his endless expanse of chest. It was warm there.

A long arm stretched over your frame. It was unthinkable to resist the view from under Sam's jaw. Your eyes meandered up his shoulder, over his neck to watch his shallow breaths, his furrowed brow and the tentativeness in his shifting.

You felt when his fingertips met the wings, if not informed by Sam's sharp intake of breath.

"Someone told me once that it feels like dipping your hand into warm water."

His eyes glanced down to where you were tucked beneath his arm, considering the suggestion. You could feel his palm run from the pointed edge down towards your shoulder blade.

"That's ... that's pretty accurate."

He retracted his hand, but he lingered. His lashes grazed his cheek where he looked down at you.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. A secret.

His eyes flickered around your face, nervous in their pursuit of somewhere to rest.

If you just leaned on the tips of your toes, if you just tugged lightly down on the end of that already tempting tie ...

You shook your head, gathering the willpower to break your gaze: bringing it to the space between your feet.

"Let's go. It's just down the next block." Quiet in return. Another secret, but a promise. A promise of maybe we can come to this again.

The diner was just a little further. The Frothy Mug.

It had been one of your first stops when you'd moved to town, almost three years ago. Most mornings since then, too.

But it had been weeks since you'd come in. Almost seven, the same week Georgia Abbott was snatched out from her back yard. The day you became the monster under their beds.

The walkway up the steps were damp, slippery with early forming ice. Sam's hand was at your back. You smiled into your chest.

There was a jingle where Sam pushed the door open, gesturing you ahead of him. The starchy light was comfortable in it's familiarity, painful in that way too.

The Frothy Mug was barren beyond a single man perched at the bar-top with a mug between his hands, eyes tired beneath a trucker hat. He waved vaguely at your passing figures.

Behind the counter, a ruggedly feminine voice called out through the kitchen window, "be with y'all in a sec!"

Shifting awkwardly, still draped in the quilt of Sam's jacket, into the booth: he chuckled softly at you.

"Hey, not my fault you're the size of a juvenile sasquatch." You shrugged.

"I didn't say anything."

"Actually," You went to correct yourself. "Maybe more pre-teen. You're not that big."

Sam frowned for a second. His head tilted.

"Bigfoot ..." Brow knotted again, "He's not ... not real, is he?"

You patted down the front of your dress over your legs, "They. It's a species, and of course they are."

There was a long moment of silence. Sam's gaze drifted off into the distance, it took a long moment before he shrugged. "Okay."

"It's a wonder how surprised you guys are with these things: fairies and bigfoots and forestfolk, considering how much you've probably already seen."

"Sorry y'all," Two thin menus slid abruptly onto the shining grey surface, a thin, dirty blonde woman hovered over the table. "Can I get some coffees, so long--?"

The woman's eyes found you. Her posture stiffened and her face whitened as if visited by a spectre.

There it was again. That same icy liquid dripping down the back of your throat when they looked at you like that. When the sheriff had slapped a pair of handcuffs on you and thrown you in the backseat of a cop car.

"Mornin'," Sam spoke first. "Yeah, I'll have a black coffee. And ..."

His hand motioned over you, eyes imploring.

"Uhm," you could make out the scowl deepening in her features, you purposefully met Sam's face. "I'll have a tea. With milk and sugar, please?"

"No tea." It was sharp and you flinched like she'd stung you.

"Oh," you nudged the menu closer to you. "A hot chocolate?"

The woman, Teresa, sighed: eyes raking over your figure. You recognised her from when you'd still come through.

"No hot chocolate."

You sighed, teasing the worn corner of the menu with your cold fingertips. "I'll-- just some water then. Please."

But Teresa hadn't moved. Eyes burning into the side of your face where you were working hard to hold a neutral expression, focusing on your lap. She snatched the menus unceremoniously off the metal table.

Sam hadn't noticed anything in the first few seconds, but he was quickly starting to do the math.

The little space between his eyebrows was crumpling like it did when he was growing annoyed. His eyes were warming too, irritation watering in the corners.

"Is there a problem here?"

But Teresa's eyes hadn't left you. "You have some nerve walking in here. You should have skipped town a long time ago, and taken that zoo with you."

Your shoulders deflated, not distinctly surprised, but rather wearied.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." It was all you said, not meeting her eye.

"Right." Sam was already shuffling out the booth. He all but shoved the woman out the way to your side of the booth, he stuck his hand out for you to take. "We're leaving."

Without another thought, as if on instinct, you reached your hand to mould into his own. He nudged you gently out the booth past the woman who scathed at your retreating figures.

"And don't come back!"

The door met the frame with a crack where Sam had slammed it.

He huffed out into the cold, and your brain was buzzing with his hand is so warm, his hand is so warm, his hand is so--

Cold nipped again at the edges of your dress. You sighed. "I'm sorry."

His hair flicked wildly over his shoulder where his head snapped to find yours. Incredulity pressed deep into his frown lines.

"You're sorry?" He huffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead.

Your hand tightened against his, you didn't mean to, but you did feel bad.

"Yeah, now we can't get breakfast. It's the only place in town open this early."

"Fuck breakfast!"

"Sam?" A small, confused laugh punctuated his outburst.

"That woman was horrible. Do you get this everywhere? I mean, it's the third time I've seen it and I've barely been in town a week. Do you?"

Your chuckle dissolved when you found his face looming, again too close for the wires in your brain to transport messages efficiently. Anger dripped off his features.

The question lingered.

"Yeah." You nodded. "I do."

"And you just take it?"

That picked at a nerve between your brows. "I don't just take it. I choose to be kind, rather than stoop to their level."

Sam's head shook again, confusion dripped off him still. "Why?"

You sighed, he was puffing like an angry dog.

"Kindness will take you farther."

The words settled into the air. The tension in Sam's face ebbed slowly. He was facing you completely again.

"I read it somewhere a long time ago. Stuck with it since."

A warmth settled in your stomach when his thumb started brushing over the side of your palm where your conjoined hands still hung between his hip and yours. He nodded, then sighed.

"Okay. What you wanna do now?"

You shrugged, huffing loudly and allowing yourself to slump against his side in a move your mind made before cowardice could stop you.

"God, this is a lot of decision-making for one night."

Sam laughed. He looked so pretty in the light still reflecting through the grainy diner walls.

"Right." He said. "How about I'll walk you home and you can get some proper rest under a toadstool or wherever it is you fairies sleep."

A velvety blush warmed at your cheeks.

"Sasquatch." You mumbled. Sam smiled again.

Your hands were still connected you noticed. Sam must have followed your eyes.

"I can let go if you want?"

"Nope."

So you walked like that with him.

Your house was more than a couple blocks, too far to walk on a normal day but it was nearly five in the morning: you were falling in love with a monster hunter and you'd just spent the night in a jail cell. A less than regular night if you'd ever had one, and the hour called for such spontaneity.

"So how does a fai-- a dryad end up in a town like this?" He asked, arm still swaying slightly with your own against his side.

A lone car tossed a long shadow down the empty road. It passed noisily.

"I don't know. A bit of roaming combined with youthful curiosity, I guess. I jumped state to state after college--"

"You went to college?"

You laughed loudly, face screwed up in light offence. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam raised his free hand in surrender, he was laughing too, "I didn't mean you, I just never thought--"

"What, you don't think fairies go to college?" Your shoulder shifted warmly against his side. "Our heads are just filled with pixie dust or something?"

He shook his head. "Hey, you're the first fairy I've ever met. Can you cut me some slack? A week ago I didn't even know you existed."

"Humans." You huffed. "You're all so ignorant. What's your first impression of me then? Do I live up to what you thought a fairy might be like?"

His eyes brushed over your face, considering you. He nodded. "Yeah. A lot actually."

"That so?" Your arms crossed over your chest, bumping him as you walked. "How?"

"Plenty of ways."

"Like?"

"The tree stuff, and the animals, and the wings of course--"

"Can't forget the wings."

"--And the sparkly clothes and the crystals and stuff."

You nodded. "That it?"

"And you're really pretty. Like how they are in the books and the movies." He shrugged, eyes out on the road ahead like he hadn't turned your stomach to molten lava with how he was tossing his words out so absent-mindedly. "Like, beautiful."

"Oh. Well that's good, I suppose,"

Your brain had gone muddy: a gooey, sticky, melted mess that could come dripping out your ears at any moment soon.

"And what about me? I'm sure I'm not the first hunter you've met, but still ... thoughts?"

You smiled, gathering what braincells still had the motivation to carry on.

"You're nice."

"Nice?" He laughed.

You nodded, "Yeah. The last time I had an encounter with a hunter I left with an arrow through my shoulder."

His eyebrows jumped. "Wow."

"And you're sweeter. Taller too." You shrugged, feeling his gaze flicker over you. "Fantastic hair."

His head ducked, like he was blushing. You hoped he was.

"Not any steep competition, from what I'm gathering."

You shrugged. "You win some you lose some."

"Anyways, you were telling me about college before I rudely projected my fairy prejudices on you." His free hand slipped into his pant pocket.

"I had fun. The drinking, the partying, the taste of freedom."

"What'd you study?"

A loud giggle erupted from you. "I'll give you three guesses."

Another cold rush of wind charged between you, he shivered.

"Don't tell me, not the plants?"

"The plants exactly!"

His footing stumbled between his laughter. "Right, right. How could I imagine anything else."

"Botany, actually. Some work in zoology, animals, but plants mostly."

You tugged at his hand, nudging him down a shorter road in the direction of your house.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Loved it." You nodded. "What about you, do monster hunters go to college? Or do you guys have a special school for stabbing werewolves and setting fire to corpses?"

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny." His thumb had taken to rubbing circles against the back of your hand. "I did actually. Go to college, I mean. Law school. Never finished though."

Something shadowy passed over his features. You frowned.

"Oh, that's too bad. Why didn't you finish?"

His shoulders slumped, he sighed loudly.

"My girlfriend ... she was, uh, killed by a demon. Kind of got caught up with getting revenge, and then I was sucked back into hunting. Haven't stopped since."

Your breath caught in your throat. It lodged there like a stone.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that." Maybe it was involuntary, but your hand squeezed against his. It squeezed back.

"It's okay. Happened a long time ago."

A question shuffled nervously to the edge of your tongue.

"Was ... was she your--" you shoulders twitched up against the lining of Sam's jacket that suddenly felt misplaced over your body. "--your other?"

His head shot in your direction as if he’d been electrocuted. “Oh, no, no … just my girlfriend at the time.”

You suddenly felt bad for asking.

“Oh.”

In the distance, a streetlamp revealed the little sliver of sidewalk in front of your house. It drew nearer and the conversation stalled to silence.

Sam was still holding your hand, you remembered blithely.

The sky had also turned a deep purple, threatening to spill into dawn.

You sighed up at it.

“The sky looks so beautiful at this time.”

Sam’s eyes darted between your face and the heavens. “Yeah, it does. I‘ve never really been up to see it.”

Your little patch of the world came passing under your feet. The dewy grass crunched beneath your shoes.

He walked you all the way to the door. His little yawn against his collar didn’t go amiss on you.

“You didn’t have to stay all night, you know?”

Two sets of feet padded up your porch steps. Sam shook his head.

“Of course I did.”

“To make sure I was okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You twisted to meet his face, the one perched on the head that loomed so far above you.

“I’m stronger than I look, Winchester.”

His eyes sparkled in the low light. “Oh I have no doubts about that.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle thumb against the side of his hand.

“You’re a good person, Sam Winchester.”

With a weary hand, he rubbed a spot behind his neck. “The way you say it almost makes it sound true.”

Your head cocked, almost resting on one shoulder. “Trust me. I have a feel for these things.”

“You make me want to be a good person.”

It hung in the air for a moment. A long moment.

You pulled your hand from his softly, raising it to brush a finger over his cheek just once before dropping it back to your side.

“Goodnight Sam.”

The door clicked open under the key’s persuasion.

“Goodnight.”

It clicked again gently shut.

When morning came, after sleep had long evaded you in the absence of the warmth Goose normally provided from a spot at the base of your bed, you came to find eight metal crates packed neatly on your doormat.

Your animals keened happily at you from within their confines.

Attached to the side of one of the cages was the police release form. At the bottom of the drawling document was a haphazard signature, a sprawling handwriting that you could just make out to read Samuel Winchester.

"So now what?"

Sam slugged back the last of his already cold coffee out the cardboard cup.

Dean was watching him from the side of his eye.

"I guess we go in, see what we can find." Sam shrugged. "The lore's been pretty less than helpful."

Out the front window of the Impala loomed an open stretch of forest, an entryway a little further out of town where they could avoid the prying eyes of nosy residents.

Sam rubbed the back of his fists against his eyes, he yawned.

"You sure you ready to head out there, cowboy? You barely got any sleep."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam nodded. "I'm fine."

Maybe it was a fib. He was exhausted.

He'd only gotten back to the motel around five and barely slept two hours before slipping back out to the police station to make opening time at eight o' clock. Sam figured you deserved the sleep more than he did, electing to unburden you of the humiliation of walking back in there to fetch your animals.

To face more of the unsettling stares and scathing remarks. The whole thing made his skin prickle with anger.

"Whatever you say, Sammy."

Dean tugged his jacket tighter over his chest as they climbed out the side of the car and Sam felt the outline of his blade against his thigh.

The lore on killing goblins had been foggy, but Sam figured it was hard to go wrong with a silver blade.

Loud crunching echoed their every step past the outer line of trees. An eery air settled over where the brothers walked.

"What exactly are we looking for?"

Sam shook his head, overtly wary of his surroundings: half convinced something was moments from leaping out at them.

"Anything that looks out of the ordinary."

They walked for what only could have been hours. Through the thicket of the trees above, it was hard to keep track of the sun. Rather the forest air was draped in a cool shade that made the autumn air even colder.

There were times where they split up, not far apart, but enough to cover more ground. Dean jumped every once in a while over an ambitious tree frog or a wandering deer, but more than that, the search was proving fruitless.

Sam paused for a moment, Dean huffed beside him and by then the sun was leering far enough over the hill that the forest was dipping into early evening darkness.

"Hey man," Dean sighed, leaning his leg up on a log. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong direction. Maybe dad was wrong, thought it was something to do with--"

A beam of light was peaking through the canopy. Specks of moonlight where it was slowly replacing the sun in the sky.

"Dean."

The misty light was shining against the wood of a tall oak that loomed just a way out of their reach. Deep scars etched into it's side, scars that were glowing under the moon's gaze.

Dean found it too.

They moved in unison towards it. The creatures of the forest chirped loudly where they neared.

The shining wounds formed a triangulated symbol, sharp like edges of teeth, surrounded by a skewed circle.

"You ever seen anything like that?" Dean's voice broke through the music of the forest.

Sam shook his head, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and captured a photo. "Nope."

They watched it for a moment.

"Well," Dean yielded. "Guess now we got something to work with. It's getting dark, let's get the hell out of here."

Hours around the desk proved fruitless. Sam had even bargained a trip to the local library, scrounged around in the local lore to come up empty handed.

Noon sun blazed through the open window, nudging against the curtain. Dean tipped back the sweating beer bottle before knocking it down against the desk.

"Nothing I've ever laid my eyes on, sorry to tell you."

Sam groaned against the phone. He nodded as if Garth could see.

"Right. Thanks again, Garth."

"Adios muchacho."

Dean's eyes followed where he killed the line and set the phone against the desk. "Nada?"

"Nada." Sam confirmed.

Shoving his chair back noisily, Dean stretched his legs out with a whine. "Well, you know ... there is someone who might know a little something about this."

Sam leaned his arms over his head, they cracked from the tension of working against the laptop. He could already smell his brother's next words.

"Let me guess."

"Tinkerbell, that's right."

Sam's lips pursed. He pretended to consider his brother's suggestion, as if he wasn't keening for your presence. Like he wasn't constantly engulfed by the gnawing urge to be at your side every single second like how he craved to breath air.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"I knew you'd think so too."

The Bloom Box.

It was a cramped little shop, squeezed into a tight spot between the laundromat and a pharmacy on main street. Pale faded pink painted brick shimmered in the afternoon glare.

"Well. Can't stay she doesn't stay on brand."

Dean's comment was the last thought that lingered before being swept abruptly from the front of Sam's mind when the little bell over the door jingled jovially.

White orchards twinkled at him from over a marble counter. Pink roses, orange tulips and purple lilies gleamed too. The inside was impossibly more pink than the face of the shop: it made Sam's head hurt.

A heavy waft of the botanicals rushed over his face and up his nostrils.

There was a hum of a heater in the far corner. Your laugh cut through the sound.

In between the glitter and mosaic of the petals, your frame melded between the colours.

You stood behind the counter, head tossed back between your shoulders with your hair up out of your face. He couldn't help notice then, with hair no longer obstructing the view, that your ears held a pointed edge. Not too noticeable, but enough that Sam squinted in surprise.

More than your ears, Sam had noticed the figure beside you. Lanky, young - closer to your own age than himself - with dreads tied back in a bun over his head.

Clearly he'd just said something hilarious, because he was laughing beside you.

"I told you he'd do that!" Your melodic voice bounced around the room.

"I couldn't resist." The man responded, elbow leaned over the counter and far too close to your shining face for Sam's liking.

An uncomfortable itch was forming in the base of his stomach. A green-eyed monster shaped itch.

Dean marched on ahead, interrupting your conversation.

"Hey Tink." He started.

Your eyes found the brothers, straightening up as you noticed. "Hey guys!"

Sam's feet were moving towards you before they'd even been instructed.

"What brings you in?" You pressed down over your apron, some soil stains leaked over it. Underneath you were wearing another frilly skirt, longer this time: all the way to your calves beyond the counter, and another crochet top. Earthy brown. "Can I interest you in some tulips, they arrived this morning?"

The man was watching Sam, he was watching back.

You noticed the exchange.

"Oh, this is Tony." You motioned up to his figure. "We work together ... obviously."

Sam nodded briefly, Dean did the same.

"Not here for the tulips, princess. Can we have a word?"

You fiddled with the ring around your middle finger. "Sure ... uh, Tony would you give us a sec?"

But Tony seemed unconvinced, purveying Sam and Dean with hooded eyes. "You sure, love?"

Love.

"Yeah, she's sure." The words fell off Sam's tongue before he had time to catch them.

Tony all but glared at him.

Your hand found his arm, Sam watched it unfold with the eyes of a trained dog. "Yeah, yeah. They're friends."

The boy nodded slowly, sending a wavering glance over Sam and Dean. "Sure. I'll be in the office if ya need."

He disappeared beyond a door into the back of the shop.

"We found some symbols in the forest," Dean started as soon as Tony was out of earshot. "Haven't been able to find much on it, thought you might know something."

You nodded, "Sure."

Sam slipped his phone out his khaki jacket, his outfit unusually casual when it came to his meetings with you.

He set the phone down gently in front of you.

You pulled it closer, raking over the pixelated image that only barely captured the shape of the wounds in the tree in the darkness of the night.

The breath you sucked in was loud.

"Look familiar?" Dean pressed.

With another shuddering breath you nodded again. "Goblins."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. A quiet I told you so.

"There should be four ..." you continued, zooming in on the photo.

"Four?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, four trees like this ... at least there should be. I haven't seen anything like this in real life, it's just stuff I learnt from knowledge passed down." The heater whined into the space between your words. "They each face a certain direction. If you find the point in the exact centre of the four trees, you've found the entrance. It should be like an underground cave from what I know."

Dean clapped his hands together in small victory, turning to Sam. "Great, we can head there now. Be done before sun down."

But you cut him off before Sam could, "Uhm, not exactly. These markings are only visible under moonlight, as is the entrance to their caves. You're gonna have to go looking after dark if you want to find anything."

Dean deflated. "Awesome."

"You think that goblins took those kids?" You asked finally, concern tightening at your brow.

"Well, if it's not you, that's our next best guess."

You rapped your nails against the counter in thought. Sam made out a tiny scratch against the side of your finger, one you'd made probably handling thorny roses. The same mark he'd noticed against his own finger while brushing his teeth that morning.

"If you decide otherwise, be sure to give me a heads up." Your face morphed into a grin, playing along with Dean's narrative.

Sam took his phone back where you held it out to him. "Well, uh, thanks."

"Please," you shook your head. "It's the least I could do after your little drop off yesterday morning. I never got to thank you for that."

Smiling slightly now, Sam shook you off.

"I didn't want you to have to go back there with those assholes."

"Well," you leaned closer over the counter, blinking up at him with eyes that could burn through steel, "Thank you. I appreciated it. Lydia too, poor thing's been hiding under the couch since."

The memory of the three-foot snake seemed to reappear to Dean. He shivered.

"I'll, uh, meet you out by the car." He muttered under his breath, "Thanks again, Tink."

You waved at him as he passed. "Of course."

The door jingled behind him.

"So," Sam's hands sunk into his pant pockets. He flicked his head up to where your co-worker had disappeared behind the door. "Tony, huh?"

Laughing you shook your head. "Uh, no. He's really sweet though. Maybe one of these days I'll give it a shot, but not now."

Sam's fists tightened, your reply bugged him.

"No time like the present." He didn't know why he was still talking, why he was mentioning it at all.

He had every right to open his mouth and tell you the truth, get your mind off Tony and any man or woman who ever came near you again.

"No, no." You chuckled softly, but it trailed off. "Kind of got this crush that I need to sort out first."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath. His feet twitched, shifting his weight.

"A crush?"

You nodded. "Yeah it's super pathetic, but he's leaving town soon. So I'll get over it. Hopefully."

A warm spongy feeling was replacing the scathing jealousy in Sam's chest.

"He's an idiot, I'm sure, if you think it's pathetic." He played along, hoping to any God listening that he wasn't reading you wrong.

"Not at all." You shook your head, eyes never leaving his. "He's actually very sweet. S'been swooping in to save me more times than I can count over the last week. Ridiculously handsome too which doesn't help the fact."

Sam was sure you could see the birds flying over his head and where he was sure his pupils had turned to hearts.

Sizzling embers warmed his insides at the sight of you, the prettiest thing between the flowers. Of how you blended so perfectly into the beauty of the world, so soft and beyond lovely and some divine power decided that he deserved it.

That you were crafted for him, as he was for you.

He felt a lick of shame in that, how you drew the short string with the mess of the man across from you.

It pushed him to respond. He forwent indulging more of your teasing.

"Can I come say goodbye tonight?" His voice was soft. "Once I'm done? I do still owe you breakfast."

A teasing grin plucked at your face again. "What makes you think I'll let you stick around 'till breakfast?"

He sighed, blushing at the insinuation. "Well, unless you'd rather have your crush come by? So I can see who's causing you all this trouble."

You shook your head. "I'll see you later then, hunter."

"You can count on it, fairy."

comment and repost if you enjoyed :)

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer @bxtchboy69 @devilslittlebabyxx @bucky-barnes-beloved @susyelectra @spilled-coffee-cup @ashdoctor @deamus-liv @rintheemolion @damonsalavatore-best @ilovetaquitosmmmm

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester drabble #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

183 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

AITA for telling someone that roleplays are a two-way street and refusing to re-engage with them?

Occasionally, if I'm in the mood to write but I don't really know what, I'll browse ship tags on Omegle. Its become synonymous for roleplays, and I've found its (typically) pretty fun.

As with every social thing, there's the odd... Less than pleasant experience. Last night was one such experience. I connected to someone on a ship tag, they sent a prompt, and it was actually a pretty interesting one, so I responded.

It was an AU prompt, but I generally kept my characterisation as close to the character's canon as I could, while still matching it to roughly what someone's personality in that profession and location would be.

(E.g; if the character was a proper old-country style cowboy, or a socially awkward secretary, ect.)

It became very clear, very fast, that the other person had very, very specific ideas about the roleplay, what happens, what my character was supposed to say/do, ect. To the point where (as I later told them) they should've just written fanfic so they had complete control.

Near enough every time I responded, they'd "correct" it or argue against it both in character and in brackets as themselves. For example if I noted something about the background or story of my character, theirs would immediately say "no that's not what happened" or they'd say [hey actually can you change that, it doesn't fit/I don't like it/its not what I envisioned].

After about fifteen minutes of this I got incredibly vexed and decided I was done. I don't mind a roleplay having certain goals/main points/guidelines, but they were literally trying to control every tiny aspect of what I did. So I sent them this:

[I'm sorry, the RP sounded interesting in the prompt you sent, but its rapidly becoming clear you don't actually want a roleplay, you want to be the sole one dictating everything that happens. Honestly I think its best you turn this idea into a fanfic and not a roleplay. It kills off any enjoyment of the roleplay when I have you contradicting every tiny detail I include or dictating what I'm allowed to do or say. I'm not going to sit there waiting for you to approve of everything I intend to say. Thank you for your time, but good night.]

I disconnected, and decided I'd spend another fifteen minutes browsing the tag before I did something else. Well apparently, the other person decided they were going to spend fifteen minutes stalking the tag trying to find me again, spamming every connection with messages ranging from extreme insults and threats to demands I 'speak up again, bitch, I wanna talk' and so forth. After connecting to them for the tenth time, I sent:

[I'm not going to re-engage with you. I said what I did, and frankly, it was a valid statement. If you can't handle the fact that roleplaying means a 50/50 creative allowance with someone else, and that you can't micro-manage or bulldoze every single detail, then you shouldn't roleplay. Frankly, knowing how vile you can be from simple criticism, I'm glad I disconnected. Take a breather and re-evaluate yourself. I'd be embarrassed.]

Well. This morning I logged onto Tumblr and after some browsing, I actually came across them again. Here. By means of a post where they included screenshots of everything and are even going so far as threatening to stalk Tumblr and AO3 to 'match up the writing' so they can find me and presumably say their piece or whatever.

I talked to a friend about it, and surprisingly, they think I'm an asshole. Not for what I said in the first place, but for not re-approaching the other person (through DMs) so they'll stop filling the ship's tag with negative stuff. (They've made 3 posts about it all so far.)

I don't want to do that because it means opening up my private social media to this obviously unhinged individual. I know I can expect to be spammed, sent hate mail, have them try to track down my other socials, ect. I could make an alt account for it, but honestly that's effort I don't see the point in making. If they can't let this go, its not my problem.

AITA? Should I make an alt account just to let them get it out of their system? I don't know how to proceed with this.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

155 notes · View notes

i-literally-cant-with-this · 3 months

Note

(Bonten timeline) Had a random head canon that since kakucho is 100% on the top 3 best boyfriend list I had a hc that when his lover is drunk he Takes on the role of taking care of her and when he's undressing her and redressing her drunk body into some pjs when she starts too whine and struggle he'll praise her as he helps her get comfortable calling you things like "good girl" "your doing so well love" ect that's my fluffy drunk user headcanon

A/N ::: So, one of my favorite anons turned moots sends me the best asks about our TokRev boys. I truly hate myself for my inability to keep anything short. Start giving me word limits, guys. Seriously. Or I'll just keep going apeshit.

C/W ::: Kakucho x F.reader, drinking at clubs, reader is a lightweight, Kaku' takes care of her. Literally I love him to pieces. "Koneko" means kitten in Japanese.

WC ::: 1,008

I read this as many times as I could. One of these days I'll figure out how to effectively read stuff.

Kakucho IS THE WORLD’S BEST boyfriend. I know this deep within my psyche and even deeper within my soul.

He always has your back (especially when he has you on it. But I digress).

After a night of being out at some exclusive clubs and drinking expensive drinks (that HE fights with you about to just "shut your damn mouth woman and let me pay for them" - respectfully, of course!), you guys catch an Uber and go home.

You're so drunk that you've fallen asleep in the car more than a couple of times. And it's not that you're sloppy drunk or anything. You're just a bit of a lightweight.

Kakucho finds this one of the more charming things about you on the occasion you do let loose and drink.

The driver gets you guys back to his place and he wakes you up gently by stroking your face and squeezing your shoulder. "We're home, let's go inside."

He pays the driver, thanks them and proceeds to help you walk to the house with his arm under yours and around your waist. Eventually picking you up and just carrying you because you're just taking so long and he wants to get you to bed because he's tired as hell, too. (He really just wants to cuddle up next to you. You were dancing so much tonight and he doesn't dance so all he could do was look at you shakin' your ass all night. He missed you - despite being no more than 10-15 feet away from you while you were out on the floor.)

Finally inside, he gets you to the bed and sits you down on the edge.

"I'll be right back." Kakucho walked out of the room and you heard the garage door open. Then the dryer door opened and closed a minute later. "Here's some pajamas, one of my t-shirts and some shorts. Is that ok?" He asked.

You nodded and stood - rather, tried to stand up so you could undress. "Kakuuuu! I nee-" you hiccupped "hahaha! Jesus. I need help, please? I'm sooo tired an' 'ni jus' wanna gotuh sleep! I danced 'n drank 'n danced around 'n now I wanna sleep, Kaku!"

He grabbed you some clean panties from your drawer in his dresser and laid all of the clothes he got for you beside you on the bed. "Oh, my baby is tired. Come here. Let me help you. Let me do the hard stuff."

Kakucho kneeled on the floor in front of you and began unbuckling your heels. "That's it. Letting me take care of you, such a good girl. Ok, I'm going to lift your dress over your head and get the shirt on, ok?"

He's your king of consent, even over something as innocent as helping you get out of your eveningwear and into your pajamas.

You nodded and threw your arms up over your head, smacking him on the underside of his chin on their way up. "OH SHIT! KAKU! ARE YOU OK! SHIT I'M SO SORRY!"

He rolled his jaw around a few times and laughed, "Helluva hit there, koneko," he laughed as he lifted your dress up and off of your body. Leaving you in just your bra and the panties you had on earlier. "H-here put this t-shirt on now and then I'll take your bra off and put those other ... um, under things on."

This was hilarious to you how shy he still was with you sometimes and that he couldn't say the word "panties". The reality was that some of the things he's said to you are far worse than that.

"K." You were so agreeable right now. Not that you weren't always, but like, there was zero resistance coming from you tonight.

"My sleepy girl. Doing so good tonight. Letting me dress you like my very own little doll." Kakucho chuckled at the thought of you actually being a life-size doll for him to play with. He was still a little drunk, too, so you let it slide.

After you had his shirt on, he stood behind you and unclasped your bra, sliding it down your arms and pulling it through the sleeves of the shirt, tossing it on the chair in the corner of the room. He was so gentle, his hands grazing your skin as he did so.

You shivered.

"You're doing so well, tipsy little baby. Here, let me help you put ... these (your panties) and your shorts on." He slid the lace up your legs, followed by the cotton shorts.

You didn't want to wear those shorts anymore and you whined.

Kakucho shushed you and guided you down onto the bed anyway. "I know, I know. You'll forget all about them once you're laying down. Ok?"

He tucked you under the covers and leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Do you need anything else, baby?"

"Just you. Wanna cuddle you and go to sleep. Please? Kaku, I love youuu." You were so tired and so drunk and he was so cute and nice to you right now - and ALL THE TIME. You just wanted to be wrapped up in him and around him.

"You're my girl. Forever. I love you too. Sweet dreams." He kissed your forehead again and closed his eyes.

He chuckled and undressed, taking off his shirt, pants, and socks, leaving him in his boxer briefs.

Thanks to the alcohol, you were seeing 2 of him and it was better than anything you’d ever witnessed. He slid under the covers and pulled you into his arms.

He didn't even care that you were still drunkenly babbling about how much you loved him and that he was your favorite person in the whole wide world.

But he'd have honestly given anything to record you muttering about all of that in your sleepy, drunk voice just before you dozed off. Tightly pressed to him and wrapped up in his arms Sleeping in your own little private heaven for the next 7 1/2 hours.

Taglist ::: @katkitkats @kazutora-kurokawa @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers kakucho #tokrev #kakucho #kakucho tokyo revengers #kakucho fluff #tokyo rev x reader #kakucho x reader #kakucho x you #kakucho x y/n

65 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

Dr Kry asks #3

Previous one Next one

Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too much loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3

Warnings: insomnia, medication, drugs, chronic illnesses, broken bones, mentions of overdosing,

☁️ ... this is my last ask for the day i SWEAR. how about dr kry with a sleep deprived darling / a darling who's always sleep deprived. if that doesnt work because of the setting (cause yknow in canon the darling's always napping lol), then how about a darling who has trouble sleeping. OR BOTH if you want to and can make it work. sorry i really wanna request this one cause the only time i can have a good sleep nowadays is when the weekend hits 🥲 i just want a bit of dr kry fluff 😭

He will sit with you for as long as you need, putting your needs before his. He can see that you're struggling to fall asleep. He can see the hollow half moons under your eyes and his heart will break.

"I can't watch this anymore. I'm going to go get you some sleeping pills, okay? And if they won't work I'll go get anaesthesia. Hopefully that'll be able to make you relax."

You'll get your sleeping pills and then rest back against the pillow. Dr Kry will sit with you until morning hours if needed. He'll hold your hand, play with your fingers, hug you if you want one and read for you.

"Are you feeling a little sleepy now, Y/N? Yeah? Are the pills working? Amazing. Just relax and let yourself fall asleep. I'll be here with you until you fall asleep and then I'll meet you in the morning, okay? We'll eat breakfast together, I promise."

Dr kry with s/o who suffers from migraine. Like bright lights aren’t good, eats a lot of pain killers and sleeps a lot bc of it

One of the main things with Dr Kry is that he always forces you to sleep (as seen in his headcanon), but that's because of the poisoned air he puts you in. If the lights we're bothering you as well, he'll turn them down and use small, warm nightlights to keep the room somewhat lit up. He'll try to control your intake of pain killers since he's afraid that you'll take too many, but he'll make sure that you won't be in pain one way or another.

"What? Too bright? Still? But, honey, all of the lights are already off. It's only this little light that's still on ... alright, I'll turn it off. If this continues I might have to develop nightray vision. Why don't you take a nap, Y/N? It'll make you feel better."

How would Dr Kry react to a darling who's very interested in his love life and like to tease him ? Always asking question about his possible partner, what he likes, ect ? Just to say " I don't understand why you're still single, you're so easy to love! Besides you're also very quiet, I know a lot of girls who liked the quiet bo- Wait !! Let me set you up, there's a very nice nurse I think her name is ... Charlotte? You know, the short brunette on the first floor ? She seems very kind or maybe you're gay ?? Well, there's that one dude at the cafeteria, I kinda had a crush on him at the beginning but I thinks he likes men...you could still give it a try if you want 🙂"

He'd let you have a go at it at first, hoping that it'd only be a one time thing ... but you continue to tease him every. single. day. He'll try his best to avoid the subject all together, but in the end would lose it. He'd grab your shoulders and pin you up against the wall in an attempt to make you silent.

"Shut up! Just shut up, alright?! I don't want to hear it!"

He'd noticed that he'd scared you and let your shoulders go. Backing away a step while running a hand through his hair, he'd think on how to save this situation. You'd apologize for making him mad which would only cause him to sigh heavily.

"You're so stupid, Y/N. Why can't you see that I want you? My fingers ache at the need of touching you sometimes and my heart breaks at the thought of you imagining me with someone else! I don't want anyone else. I think I'm going insane! I don't want to hear you talk about other people when you're with me. I just want you to focus on me and me only. Can you do that for me?"

He'd notice how wide your eyes were and how you started pulling your arms closer to your torso. With a hiss, he'd bring you into his arms before you had the chance to run away.

"I love you", he'd whisper.

im going to be sending in two asks bc i am mentally ill. heres the first one: how would dr kry deal with a patient who is chronically ill and frequently needs surgeries? this may or may not be self indulgent because i may or may not have just gotten surgery yesterday on my silly goofy eyeball (im fine)

He'll be right by your side. He'll take care of you and give you everything you need. When you're afraid, he'll kiss your hand and give you a reassuring smile.

"I know you're scared ... I wish I could do something to help you. I wish I could steal you away from here ... but you need these operations to survive. I'm so sorry, Y/N. What can I do to help you? Do you want something to eat? Do you want me to read for you? Yeah? Absolutely, anything for you."

second ask: i literally love dr kry so hear me out 💀 how about dr kry with a patient whos just being a total cranky BRAT to him. acting up, mouthing off, just being a little twerp. (its me. im also a little twerp)

Do you want to die? He controls your body. If you're being a little brat, he'll make sure your air is even more polluted and you 'accidentally' hurt yourself.

"Your arms are broken? Oh dear, how did that happen? Well ... i guess your silly behaviour came to bite you in the butt. Well, now you have to be a little nicer to me if you want me to care for you, okay? I don't want to help an ungrateful brat. Good, let's start over."

What would Dr. Kry do if darling tried to take a lot of pills to overdose and feel independent without him?

You'd be tied to the bed :) and have no privacy :) and never be in control again :)

I just discovered your blog and i'm in love with Dr Kry 😭what would happen if reader was sensitive to loud sounds??

He'd sound proof the room and give you ear plugs. When he's talking to you, he'll use a soft spoken voice and if he gets angry, he'll try his best to keep his composure so he won't yell at you. If there were loud bangings or sounds he can't control, he'll hide with you in the bathroom where the sounds aren't as loud. You'll have your ear plugs and his hands over your ears.

"It's alright, little one, just breathe. The noises will end soon. When they end, we'll go back out into the room and we'll read a little, okay? I'll try to find out who made these awful sounds and make sure they won't do it again."

what if we actually end up living with Dr Kry??

This man would honestly take such good care of you. You'll share a big bed, have many plants and he'd show a more humane side that he can't show in the hospital. He'll smile more, love more, talk more. The constant stress of being in the hospital and having people all around who could take you away from him takes a lot of energy that he wants to project on you.

"I've baked bread! I've wanted to try for a while. How about you come with me downstairs and get a slice with some marmalade? I know your legs are weak, I'll carry you down if you'd like."

i was wondering how would reader and dr krys relationship be if reader was nurse or doctor

He'd make sure you were scheduled together so he can spend his work shifts with you. People in the hospital would think that you're a couple. Exactly as he wants. He'll buy you lunch and stay close to you on break times. If anyone asks him if you're a couple, he'll answer with something that indicates that you are.

"Y/N, do you want to go take a bit of fresh air? You've been working so well these last hours, you're well deserved of a break. Come here, let's go take a few breaths and a bit of coffee before the night shift."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #yandere male #yandere headcanons

242 notes · View notes

ablobwhowrites · 1 year

Note

Well then, lemme just-

You know how some teens try to act all tough and serious so they can look cool and "mature for their age" but in reality are a complete sweetheart (and maybe a scared cat/crybaby too lol) and all of the adults there know this bc they knew/know them since their parents had them? Yeah<3

Reader: Nothing scares me😎, I'm awesome just like that-

Kevin: Oh! Hey Y/N, how are y-

Reader: *high-pitched scream*

When Reader discovered what Bob had done it probably hit them HARD. They thought he was the COOLEST dude on the neighborhood who always gave them free food after hard days at school and would let them hang out at his work when their parents were away, now you are telling them that police discovered that he was a killer?? That gotta be a very hurtful event, especially if you are a kid.

So they kind of created this fake version of themselves to make it seem that they were over it and that it actually didn't affect them, they became this "too cool for school😎" teen who didn't have any feeling besides "chill" and "stoic". Which ends up making some of the people they grew around worried, they know why they became like this but nobody has the guts to confront them about it, knowing how the topic hurts them

Lila: So...do you want to talk about Bob-

Reader: Why would I? I don't care about what happened 😎

Lila: Well then...take your glasses off please?

Reader: 🤏😎....🥺

Bob(after escaping prison) probably wouldn't recognize them at first, only when they start to cry and beg for him not to kill them is when he notices that the teen in front of him is that kid who would always hang around when he was working. At that moment he kinda freezes, he can't believe it! They look so different! He tries to calm them down, telling them that it's only him, Bob! You remember him... right?

They just look so small and sad, there is this voice in the back of his head telling him to hug them and never let go, to comfort them like a parent comforts their child after a bad dream...and that's exactly what he would have done...if they hadn't ran away.

(idk man, just want Bob to be a platonic yandere to this teen who tries to act all tough but is absolutely terrified of him lol.)

(SORRY THIS IS SO LONG LOL)

(I love when anons or anyone explains and expresses their creativity and I'll make this into head canons with a tad of shitpost)

bob would have books on how to raise a teenager and other stuff. He does go out of his way to get you good animal meat sense you don't really have a wanting for it, which is fine but will the police on his ass and all

Bob does make dad jokes with a mix of cannibal humor in. Plus seeing you try to be cool but in reality a scared little kid makes him feel like a dad trying to raise a toddler who is afraid of their own shadow....he is convinced you are afraid of your own shadow, bob tries to make his house kinda child proof after hearing about how kids (which he kinda feels like you are) get hurt or almost get poisoned by things in the house or around the house so he trys everything to keep you from hurting yourself

He wears glasses....no one can change my mind, and bob does let you make friends. Well after he has you calm down after the fact he is a mass cannibal serial killer in a fucking devil costume, he is not above carrying you plus he wont spoil you a lot just at the beginning so you can at least calm down to know your not going to die....one time you went to go get a drink form the fridge at night and didn't know which fridge bob kept the drink (cause I headcanon he puts his drink and the dead bodies in two separate fridges cause he doesn't want you to get sick or just because your not use to the smell of dead corpses of victims old and new) and you open the wrong fridge and a fresh dead body falls out onto the floor your just use to it and shove the body back into the fridge and forget your drink.

Bob isn't bothered by you being gay or trans, pansexual ect. But he will need to see who your dating cause he wants the best for you....he makes "hi gay I'm dad" joke when you came out because you're his 'kid' and he will try to poke fun at any time he gets the chance, if you want to date two people that's okay but I feel like bob knows we're everyone lives in the town so he will get on his devil costume and go outside to check if your boyfriend/girlfriend is cheating on you and if they are....then oh boy he busting in and kill them.

You guys know when your trying to show your parents something on your phone and they do that looking far away from the screen to see it?....yeah bob has to grab his glasses and does that plus when he's cooking meat he knows how to season and make good ass hamburgers

#yandere bob velseb #bob velseb #spooky month bob #yandere spooky month #spooky month x reader #spooky month pump #spooky month sr pelo #spooky month kevin #spooky month #x male reader #yandere x gn reader #x gn reader #x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere platonic #platonic yandere

277 notes · View notes

mcnotok · 1 year

Note

okay so i live in a place where it's cold very like 80% of the year, including now and because it was really freakin cold today, it got me thinking about how the climates of undertale really work and that in turn got me thinking about how the bad sans gang™ would react to the cold.

so like first off, do monsters even react to the temperature changing. i mean undyne overheats in her armour when you enter hotland so presumably she does react to changes in her surrounding temperatures. but undyne isn't made entirely out of magic and bones and she likely is a little bit more human than other monsters since a really popular theory about her eye is that she got injected with determination.

but sans and papyrus are skeletons and live in snowdin and that place is constantly covered in snow. (side note: HOW THE FUCK IS THERE SNOW UNDER THE MOUNTAIN. like it could be magic but that's just weird especially considering the fact that waterfall which is right next to snowdin is a marshy grassland which if you know anything about that type of environment you know that snow doesn't really work, okay rant over back to the skeletons).

i've seen a few pieces of art and fanfiction that basically make it so the skeletons react to the cold like a human would; frostbite, hypothermia, ect... but thought is always like would they react that way. most versions of sans are wearing hoodies and shorts and slippers out in the cold and they seem just fine.

cross is wearing like sixty different layers but it's made pretty clear that his outfit is supposed to be a really embellished royal guard uniform so jury's out on him actually being hot underneath all the fluff.

my conclusion is that skeleton monsters are pretty resilient to the cold in general and that it takes a lot to get any of them uncomfortable when it comes to the weather.

so onto the headcanons.

i think that horror, killer, and dust would react to the cold in a similar way because they all lived in snowdin for most of their lives prior to getting hired/adopted into nightmares gang. i think all three of them would really enjoy the snow and the cold in general

horror would be a little more adverse to it because of the hole in his skull and getting water out of there seems kinda annoying to deal with. killer starts a snowball fight and immediately gets his ass handed to him by everyone else. dust just would sorta starfish into the snow and stay there for the whole day. he's like those huskies who just stay outside for as long as possible and when someone drags him back inside he's just laying on his back, covered in snow.

cross is interesting because he also technically grew up in snowdin but most of the universes that x-gaster put him into were on the surface and along with his fluffy coat and scarf i think he's less hyped about the cold. like with all the layers he'll be fine but if you take that from him and he's just outside with a turtleneck and shorts, he'll be shivering after like 15 minutes.

nightmare hates the cold. i've seen a few headcanons that involve his slime/sludge freezing and i think that's really fucking cool. nightmare would rather eat like (idk what nightmare doesn't like to eat but assume something icky) than go outside. if it's under like 35 degrees he's just going to stay inside. he also fucking hates the snow with a burning passion because if it melts on him it'll hurt (i'm actually not sure if the whole, nightmare is hurt by water thing is canon to dreamtale lore, but i think it's cool so i'm sticking with it)

anyways sorry for the long ask, but i got thinking a bit too hard and your blog is probably the thing that got me back into utmv

anyways i hope you have a lovely day!!

I hope this is how you pictured it :)

Ice/slushie consistency when cold nm my beloved

220 notes · View notes

bara-izu · 5 months

Note

Hi!! I only recently found out about your art, and I love it so dang much! Halion and Morpho especially are so beautiful! If you don't mind me asking, what were some of the things you focused on when creating Halion? I'm making my own character in Baldur's Gate 3, and I feel like I'm missing some things.

Well firstly thank you for joining my OC scream hole! Hope you enjoy your stay haha

As for the character creation process--

Imma ramble a bit here so apologies :

Halion wasn't my first Tav, he actually started as the "Dream Lover" (early access version of the Guardian) but I liked his design so much I wanted to try playing as him!

After playing a little further into act 1, kind if understanding where BG3 takes place in terms of the other content in faerun, I basically went into a big lore deep dive about the Forgotten Realms. I've had the privilege of playing other campaigns that take place there (Horde of the Dragon Queen, Out of the Abyss, Dungeon of the Mad Mage ect ect) so there is lots of little lore tidbits I've picked up along the way and basically stuffed into Halion.

My main suggestion for developing a BG3 character backstory, is look into your characters race/culture lore, research into some of the deities and look into some faerun locations; I know canonically Tav is from Baldur's Gate, but they may have lived somewhere before (eg. Halion lived in Candlekeep as a child, and was born in Elturel- both locations feed into his background and life choices). And if your Tav is gith why not look into the astral plane? Look into wild space?~

An example of this is, Halion is a paladin, I looked to good aligned deities, fell for Lathander since Halion has sun iconography, then found that Lathander has actual Paladin Orders (eg Order of the Aster), who worked to fight against Shar and similar evil aligned gods. While this is all well and good, Halion's lack of brutality led to him being kicked out of his Order, just before the Nautiloid abduction. This plays into his personality, how he interacts with characters like shadowheart, and how he interprets game events.

There is lots of cool lore within the forgotten realms and lots to digest and grab inspiration from for your character :) to be fair though, some of that may also com naturally as you play, make decisions and see the ingame story develop~

Hope this helps and sorry for rambling a little:)))

#ask izu #izu rambles #more halion lore

33 notes · View notes

mochamoth · 1 month

Text

Some silly hcs for my silly little rarepair from a random AOSTH episode!! (Scratch x Henrietta hcs!)

(.. I wanted to write a fic but didn't know what to write about exactly plot wise 🥲 anyways this is probably gonna be cringey so you have been warned! And long! Probably long!!)

So these would all take place after they met up again. Scratch wouldn't be with Robotnik probably by this point and is probably recovering from y'know, actual abuse.

The two sorta meet up and Scratch apologizes for the whole amnesia thing (finally giving him a chance to explain) and Henrietta forgives him. So it goes from there (can ya tell idk what to make the story exactly, aa 😭).

Also I do hc Scratch as a trans lesbian. So um y ea. I use he/she for him usually.

Anyways, the two preen eachother like.. Well birds!

Scratch attempts to help Henrietta out on her farm, but he kinda sucks at a lot of the tasks. He's good with the chickens, though.

Also obviously motorcycle/bike rides! I like to think Henrietta has multiple, cuz I find the fact she's both a motorcyclist and a farm girl charming. She likes to speed through random fields near the farm for funsies.

The two probably move out on their own. Not far from Henrietta's parents (obviously) but like, to their own cottage (haha cottagecore).

Scratch is very awkward when it comes to showing affection. Henrietta will be all OVER her, and she won't know what to do because she's simply not used to it. Scratch does try though! She gives random kisses here and there and occasionally cuddles up with Henrietta first. It's not that Scratch doesn't like affection, she adores it. Scratch just doesn't know what to do cuz she's used to abuse and isolation. (Ofc except Grounder, yay siblings!)

The two do eachothers makeup because cute!

Self indulgent as HELL but both are autistic.

And share special interests.

And will rant about them to eachother for hours and hours.

Scratch and Henrietta both wake up at sunrise. As much as Scratch finds it funny to annoy poor Grounder by crowing at the night owl (or uh.. Mole) to wake up, it's a nice change of pace to live with a fellow morning bird. He still crows though!

Scratch will fight anyone who tries to harm Henrietta. Henrietta insists unless one of them is in immediate danger that the fighting isn't necessary, but Scratch sometimes forgets about that.

Pet namess I mean this is already canon. Henrietta has her cute little pet names for Scratch like dear, darling, sweetie, and ect. Scratch isn't very good at coming up with pet names, but she started to mimic her's which Henrietta finds cute.

They share a nest bed. Because I find Scratch's nest bed in the show downright amazing and incredible.

Henrietta gains comfort weight and is chubby, CRY ABOUT IT!!

Henrietta kinda helps Scratch learn about the world from a non-villain perspective. Scratch is still a little "evil" ofc, I'm bias I adore silly little evil guys (team Skull my beloveds). But not legit taking over the world, endangering lives, and abusive evil! Anyways, Henrietta kinda helps Scratch acclimate into a more peaceful life.

Scratch is secretly a bit insecure about how she looks, but Henrietta helps him love herself a little more.

Henrietta helps put Scratch together if he ever breaks. She's no robotics engineer, but she does know how to fix vehicles. So she has a bit of knowledge plus guides and studies on robots.

I'll probably come up with more later, but that's all for now! Sorry if there's any bad grammar or typos, I am so so tired cuz been busy on remodeling my entire room 😭!

#aosth #adventures of sonic the hedgehog #aosth scratch #scratch aosth #henrietta x scratch #scratch x henrietta #rarepair #rare paring #headcanons

15 notes · View notes

capputinos-harp · 2 years

Note

Yan!Swk/Mac x Kumiho like! reader? the reader DROP DEAD GORGEOUS but at cost of this gorgeous is cannibalism. Say what if these two Characters got obsessed?

All in all the reader is a cannibal who eats all genders

personality:Manipulitive,Flirty ect

I'm sorry I had almost little to no idea for this :(

G0r3+yandere

My vibe traveller~ I'll do sun wukong, since you didn't specify what you want I'll be guessing semi head canons and semi one shot.

TW; GORE, CANNIBALISM, OBSESSIVE, ETC.

Sun Wu Kong

- You were a beauty, no one would fallen harder than him. Sun wu Kong, the sage equal as heaven. Oh how he want to let you touch him, no matter where, he just want to be touched by you.

- But you were so busy, being crowded by... 'Mortals' who doesn't even deserved your presence. Syncing their moves to match yours as they tried to romance you, it disgusted him.

- You would often see him, you were smitten by him even following him whilebhe trailed behind you, it was a nice game to play when you have nothing else to do, but nice things have to end sadly and you don't pay any attention to him.

- He always see you giving a glance to him and smile to gave him, it made his heart strings tighten to make it hurts and yelled ' Marry Me! ' out loud in public while in disguise. But when you ignored him, it didn't make sense were you playing hard to get? Are you trailing on him? Playin games with him? Whatever it is he will make you look at him no matter if he have to slaughter a few mortals.

- Oh, he knew your little secret. How you lure multiple men and women to your home, sometimes even children. To at their lungs, heart, liver and flesh. Oh how you look magnificent with red. It suits you oh too well.

- he wants to drag you with him, make you his, and the look at your face, when you smile.. But he have to be patient, he doesn't want to scare you dont he?

#cappu been here #lego monkie kid x reader #monkie kid x reader #lego monkie king #sun wukong x reader #lmk x reader #sun wukong #yandere sun wukong

312 notes · View notes

adonisbeloveds · 1 year

Text

Sun and Moondrop taking care of a child reader

-Reader: no pronouns used + no gender implied -It/they for Sun and Moon

Requested: No/Yes

Warnings: None Disclamer: Characters personality, looks, ect may be different from canon due to either hc or author has just forgotten.

A/N: This is my first writting so I'm sorry if it isn't that good. All banners are made by me (the drawings and stuff are NOT mine, credits to the ones who drew them i just mixed them together and made banners)

^ Made by me

-☼ When you first walked in with your caregiver Sun was just doing their job, take the kid from their parents, get the kid checked in, than entertain them until naptime, after you said bye to your caregiver Sun took you into the sea of loud, messy and running children. -☼ You didn't really know what to do when Sun left you alone to go help other kids, so you just went off to play with the toys and be in your own little world, though not acting like the other kids around you, where still a kid, a kid who needed attention and attention was what you where going to have! -☼ Now having children who don't like playing, loud noises, and just can't handle overwhelming places where not uncommon for Sun, so it gave you your space but made sure to check up on you every once and a while, making sure your eating when its snack time, making sure you haven't left the daycare, asking if you wanted to join in with the other kids, ect. Sun was watching over the kids while they ate, it counted all the kids but found one missing, they looked around but couldn't see you anywhere near the eating tables, so they started looking around any corners or places you might be when it found you huddled in a small-ish place with blankets and pillows, you seemed tired and floating in and out of consciousness. "Oh little sunbeam, tired already?" Sun asked as they carefully picked you up and huddled you close in their arms and pulling the blanket over you "it is about naptime isn't it my little sunbeam" Sun said after booping your nose and walking back to the children to tell them its naptime.

^ Made by me

-☾ After Sun turned the lights off and all the children went to their sleeping bags Moon looked down and saw you half asleep in their arms, smiling softly it walked towards where the children where sleeping and sat down humming a small lullaby while holding you close to their lap. -☾ If you are one to have nightmares often or bad nightmares they will slowly wake you up and just softly reasure you that your safe in its arms, that no one and nothing can hurt you while they are here.

Moon was keeping a eye on all the children in a protective manner, being a almost second parent to most of the kids they took the role seriously, nothing was going to happen to you or the others. It felt movement in its arms and when it looked down and saw you looking up at them with grabby hands it softly smiled and held you so you where sitting on its leg. "Whats wrong little star? shouldn't a little star like you be sleeping?" Moon asks softly as to not wake up the other children. You looked up at them and whispered "puppet!" at first it took Moon a second before they smiled and patted your head "a puppet show? well if my little star wishes who am I to say no" Moon than placed you on the floor and went to get a flashflight. After a while other kids woke up to the puppet show while you sat in their lap and watched with amazment at the puppet show. Soon all the kids woke up, some watching the show and others playing around where Moon can see them, after a while the puppet show finished and Moon asked you to sit still while it goes to grab something and to put the flashlight back. When it came back it knelt down and showed two plushies, one of them and the other of Sun "Sun and I thought you would like them, so whenever your not here you have something to play with and to cuddle with when you sleep" Moon smiled softly as you grabbed the plushies and hugged them "thank!" they patted you on the head and went to turn the lights back on.

401 notes · View notes

heartthrobin · 6 months

Text

lovers, to bed: tis almost fairy time (4)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.0k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), angst, subby sam winchester (?), some smoking, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: i'm so sorry that this took so long, uni has put me in a really tough mental space at the moment and being creative has been so difficult. but i hope it was worth the wait! love you all endlessly

summary: yes, Sam Winchester was an idiot: but he would be damned if he was going to let his little fairy get away.

part one part two part three

The trunk clicked open, swinging up against the back window of the Impala.

Dean rummaged between the shotguns and the silver blades and the jugs of gasoline. His hand emerged with a wide set machete, holding it up to Sam.

"I've been dying to use this bad boy since Idaho." He grinned at his reflection in the steel blade.

Sam rolled his eyes, hair fluttering over his forehead where the evening wind was tugging on it. The Impala was parked up against the grass at the edge of the forest, the sun disappearing over the treetops in a way that sunk the town in a purple glow.

He reached in to grab a shotgun, a silver blade too: slipping it into his jacket pocket. "Right. Let's just get this over with."

His brother grinned, "So you can go see your little princess, hm?"

Sam didn't dignify him with a response. Mostly because he was right.

The weight of the truth draped over his shoulders like a truck. Stifling and making it hard to breath, let alone think.

Dean laughed at his lack of response, bumping his shoulder to his:

"Sammy's getting laid tonight." He sing-songed.

"Yeah, right. That's a great idea." He huffed, "Then she can see all my scars and realise I've been lying to her. Sounds fun."

Nudging the trunk closed, Dean groaned. "She's gonna find out either way."

"Not unless I don't tell her."

At that Dean paused. His eyes ran over Sam's figure where he was loading the shotgun.

"So when were done, we're just gonna leave town?"

Sam slammed the trunk shut with maybe a little too much force. "Can we drop it?"

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever. It's your problem, but I think she should know."

But Sam was already pacing towards the line of trees, huffing and trying to suffocate the guilt building in his chest.

The forest wasn't making it any easier. Dean was trailing behind him, every footstep crackling over the dry leaves and soft grass reminding him of your laugh. The dark bark of the black of your eyes, those eyes so wide and wet--

"Hey," Dean's voice cut through his thoughts. He motioned over between the trees. "Look."

There was the tree again. Glowing just like it had been the last time they'd ventured into the belly of the woods.

A crunch echoed around the space. Sam's head whipped over his shoulder, Dean reaching with a quickness that only came from experience for the gun in his holster:

"What was that?"

There was a teenager behind the counter when you plonked down a packet of sour worms and a tray of eggs in front of her.

She was usually the one who helped you when you'd stop in after work some days. She's cute in a sprightly way: piercings sticking out from every piece of skin she could get her hands on and she was one of the only people left in town who didn't scowl at you when you came in.

But she was looking at you funny just then, her hands still where they'd usually just reach to start scanning your things with a bored look on her young features.

"You've ... uh, got a ..." she'd motioned up to her own face, brushing a finger over her cheek.

Your hand came to pet your own face, drawing back with a palmful of blood. Shoulders sagging, you sigh. "Oh."

She leaned down under the counter, emerging with a handful of napkins and offering them to you. You smiled at her, "Thank you. It's, uhm, it's not mine."

The girl nodded like she already figured. She started to scan your eggs while you wiped down your cheek, napkins dissolving into a crimson lump. You wondered, for the millionth time, what your soulmate had gotten themselves into today.

There was a glass case enclosing some rotating hot dogs that you used to check your reflection: to probe gently at the thin cut you suspected was the work of a sharp blade, and when she handed you your bag, your face was mostly clean over where it was flush with embarrassment. Poor girl was already working late on a week night and you'd waltzed in looking like a scene from a horror movie.

You thanked her and she offered one last uninterested nod.

It was dark out already and you didn't feel as safe walking home as you once had but there was little option, and the corner store was less than a couple blocks from home.

The bag shuffled and your neck-full of crystals clinked as you walked. You hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all afternoon, some playful tune you'd heard on the radio in the shop.

In the distance there was a crowd. The road overthrown with a flickering blue and red light from cop cars parked just further down and voices overlapped in loud chatter.

You frowned. "What ..."

As you neared your eyes find uniformed officers pushing back other curious onlookers. There was a news van parked there too: a man dressed in a smart suit speaking into a microphone at his chest and he's grinning-- "Yes, Arthur, I am here in Fernglade Washington with some amazing news for our viewers. Tonight, the town can rest a little easier--"

There was a loud sob that carries over heads and a woman was on her knees, jeans pressing into the concrete where she was clutching a child. She's shaking violently ... and she wasn't alone.

Behind her was another set of parents with a child ... and another, and another.

Your heart floated into your throat. There brewed a bubbling feeling in your chest, it's ... it's the children. The missing children.

You recognised Rachel and Georgia ... and Manny. Sure, they were a little dirty: with pale soil-ridden faces and torn Barbie t-shirts.

One, two, three -- you counted them with your eyes -- seven. They were all there.

The police had set up a barricade and you didn't even realise you'd dropped and crushed your eggs when you pressed against it. There's eyes on you, guilty eyes, and you could tell nearby officers were pretending not to look at you out the corner of their eyes.

But you couldn't be bothered with them, with the whispering crowd either, because you'd made out the outline of the Winchester brothers' backs talking down at a short police woman who was avidly writing against a tiny notebook.

You were grinning so hard it was hurting your cheeks and your eyes welled with the joy of the scene. They were all there. They were all okay, alive!

"Sam!' you leaned over the wooden barricade. It had to have been them, there was nobody else who believed you. Believed that the kids weren't locked up in the depths of a dungeon you didn't own.

A laugh was gurgling up from the depths of your throat and you felt where a tear slipped over the healing cut on your cheek. "Sam!"

Sam's head perked up, pausing mid-sentence when he turned those wide shoulders to the crowd, to you. His face lit up with shadows under the spectacle of coloured lights when his eyes found yours.

Your heart sunk from where it was sitting in your throat, slipping all the way to the deepest pit in your stomach.

Even under the harsh light and the cover of night it was impossible to miss the drying blood painting his face. Running down from a cut over his cheek. Your hand came to find your own jaw, eyes never leaving his, when you pressed up into the matching scar. It didn't hurt and even if it had, you wouldn't have felt it just then.

Sam's face was twisting with realisation. "Y/n--"

You tripped back over the edges of your skirt, knocking into the onlookers behind you-- "hey, watch it!"

Concrete reached up, scraping at your heels wedged into dainty sandals, but the hammering of your heart kept them moving. You broke out the crowd, oxygen leaning further and further out your grasp when you broke into a run.

"Y/n, wait!"

But you didn't stop.

Sam watched your silhouette shrink down the road, streetlights illuminating your escape. He gulped for breath, guilt choking him out: clogging his airways with thick sludgy shame.

"Sammy," a hand closed over his arm. "Come on--"

"Agent, we need to finish getting your statement."

Dean was leaning over his shoulder when he looked down. His eyes were sticky with sympathy.

The officer was lingering just a foot from him. She looked confused, gaze flickering between him and the now empty street.

"Dean ..." he turned to his only comfort. "She-- my face ..."

His brother nodded. "Yeah, I know. I know, Sammy."

He patted him. "Just give her some time to breath, okay? Let's finish here."

Every nerve-ending in his body was screaming at him to chase you down the street. To break through the nosy locals and crawl his way up your porch steps: beg on his knees for forgiveness.

Just give her some time. He didn't know if his mind was ringing or if Dean had said it again, but Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

The officer pressed her pen back to her little notebook. She nodded, "Okay so you guys followed the perpetrator into the forest. Male, blonde hair, you said?"

Dean made a grunt of agreement.

The night was so cold, Sam remembered.

A thin sheet of drizzle was patching up the sidewalk when his heavy footsteps crept up along it. Barely enough to dampen his hair, but his jacket felt impossibly heavy over his shoulders.

It was past midnight. The police had held them down: a trip to the station, a tower of signed documents and a sketch artist later there he finally was, standing feeling small for the first time in his life at the edge of your property.

Wind was twirling a thin line of smoke off your porch. He could see you through the darkness.

You said nothing. Eyes connected with his across your impeccably maintained grass.

It egged him forward.

His footsteps were loud clambering up the three wooden steps onto your porch.

You were leaned back into the arms of an ornate wooden rocking chair he'd noticed on his first trip up those same stairs. You weren't looking at him anymore: eyes drifting over the quiet street.

Sam was at least glad to find you bundled up in a blanket.

In your lap sat was the strangest-looking pipe he'd ever seen. An obnoxiously long chamber with a bulbous bowl at the end.

A string of purple smoke was curling out from between your lips. "You're here."

He couldn't tell if it was a question or not. Your face was as passionless as he'd ever seen it: offering him nothing.

"I promised I would be."

You nodded slowly, bringing the pipe up to your mouth and sucking on it steadily, still not looking at him. "How are the kids?"

Sam's hands bunched at his side. A dreadful burning viper was slithering between his organs. In this light he could see the smooth cut against your face, a misaimed throw of a blade from Dean when a tiny grotesque goblin had leapt up at him.

"They're ... they're fine. T-They're good."

"Did you know?"

You're looking at him now. It's the question he knew was coming but it knocks him breathless all the same.

He draws breath, mind spinning between the truth and an easier lie. "I--"

"Don't lie, Sam."

Your eyes are piercing him, like an arrow to the chest. He swallows hard. "Yes ... I did."

The pipe draws up to your mouth again, you let out a soft humourless laugh. It's followed out by another cloud of glittering smoke. The laugh so empty that it dries Sam's mouth.

"I ... the life I lead," he starts again, the snippets of a speech that he'd been stewing on his whole life for this exact moment coming out sounding more pathetic than he ever thought they could. "It's no life for you. For anyone, and I couldn't do that to someone I... I-I love. To tie you to me, I've done terrible things you don't know--"

"And you think I haven't?" You're rising from the chair now, pipe thudding to the floor. Your voice is prickled in a rising anger. "That I'm some jewel who could never imagine what life is like on the run? To kill and hurt for survival?"

The rain was coming down harder. Trees and bushes leaning against the push of the wind. Sam was so lost in the heat of your eyes that he didn't notice the creep of a thick-set branch crawling up the edge of the porch, down over the lip of the roof.

"Were you just gonna leave?" Your voice never rose but he flinched like you'd screamed it at him. The flush of fury setting your cheeks alight, illuminating the scar that put you both there. "You were, weren't you?"

The touch was wet and solid when it wrapped around his ankle, the branch wrenching him by both ankles back against the bannister of the porch. He gasped when the wood struck his back: another thick brown limb winding around his neck, not enough to hurt but enough to fix his head in your direction and stop him from toppling over.

It took a couple gulps of breath to realise that it was the tree. The one wrapped around your cottage, that it was you.

"This is a two way street, Sam." you pressed up against his chest, eyes alight with a power you'd never let show before. "You bang me up for years and years, and I sit and wait for you. And you were just gonna leave? Leave me to patch up all your bullet holes and your wolf bites?"

Shame drains his cheeks of warmth. He doesn't fight the tree's grip, purposefully ignores the sharpened blade that's still well within his reach. Sam shakes his head as well as he can: he doesn't know what to say. His whole pathetic speech meant nothing anymore and he didn't think this could hurt any harder until he realises that tears are streaming quietly down your perfect perfect face.

You're pressed up against him, your warmth seeping into his bones.

Forehead meeting his pectoral, you shake your head too. Tears wetting his shirt.

"I was scared." He finally lets out, it's pitiful. "I didn't know this is what it felt like. I didn't know love could feel like this."

"I'm scared too, you know." You whisper into him.

In a surge of bravery, or maybe just stupidity - he couldn't tell anymore, his hand finds your jaw: tipping it up to face him.

God, he never thought you could be more beautiful but you were blinking up at him with wet lashes and a trembling lip and he was ready to give up his whole fucking life for you. Lay down the gun and never pick it up again, let Dean drive alone out and far away from Fernglade.

It was all made more real when you leaned up onto your toes, nose brushing his and hands finding his neck.

You moved no closer, warm breath caressing the bow of his lip, but Sam would be damned if being hog-tied by some oak tree was gonna stop him from the taste of you so he wrapped a strong arm over your waist and tugged you just that little distance further.

The feeling of your lips crashing on his couldn't be any sweeter. He imagined that this is what a firework felt like when it leapt into the sky and burst.

Your mouth was desperate, like his, and your hands wrapped around the base of his shivering neck.

You tasted like sweet tea and tangy like whatever was in your magical pipe and if the tree wasn't holding him upright he'd have crashed to his knees. You whined lowly and it stoked the fire pit in Sam's stomach.

His tongue slipped past your lips, struggling against the hold of the oak tree to let his hands roam your back. Your mouth was wet hot and he knew he could kiss you forever, until his oxygen depleted and he was dead for the world.

But you stepped back, eyes wide like you'd been doused over with ice water. A hand wiped at your mouth, at the mix of his and your's saliva coating your lips.

"You ..." your voice trembled. "You should go."

You stumbled back down the porch, door creaking as it opened and banging as it shut.

The grip of the tree loosened and Sam watched it's branches creep back under the porch. It became still again, rain calming to a measly patter and bushes watching quietly.

"Fuck." he whispered.

Sam shut the car door obnoxiously loud after him. The leather of the Impala creaked loudly when Dean followed in suit, hands reaching up to the slick black wheel.

"You're sure?"

Without answering, Sam shifted to take one last look at the Pinecone Motel and it's chipping copper paint.

"Fine." Dean turned the key into the ignition, car rumbling to life beneath them.

In the backseat is his and Sam's rucksacks and duffle-bags jam-packed with their few worldly possesions. The same bags haphazardly zipped shut that same morning when Sam eventually busted through the door demanding that they left Fernglade right fucking now.

The sun was just barely creeping over the town and morning chill frosted the view through the windscreen. It's busy despite the time: open signs are flickering on and men in aprons are heaving crates of apples onto stands under fairylight-lit doorways.

Bad Moon Rising hummed through the crumbly speakers and Sam slammed the switch on the dash so it shut off.

"Hey!" Dean calls, "take it easy man. She's gentle."

He pat the dash softly where Sam has just knocked it. Still, his brother says nothing.

"Okay." He huffed, pulling the car into a spot near the sidewalk in front of a lifeless diner. Dean twists in his seat to face Sam: "you've barely said a word all morning."

Sam tugged his jacket closer over his frame. "I said I don't wanna talk about it."

"Yeah, yeah. You've been saying that all damn week." Dean's arm lifted to rest against the back of the seat. "But you're gonna talk now. This isn't some passing girl that you can just pack your bags and run away from. You're gonna have to go there and apologise."

Sam's expression curls in anger. "Yeah, Dean, I did that! And she tied me up with tree branches and kicked me off her porch--"

"Well, boo hoo!" Dean tightened his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. "Do it again! Do it until she forgives you."

"I don't need your advice, Dean. I've made up my mind, we're leaving."

A cat was scratching on a growing weed at the edge of the sidewalk, Sam focused on it to avoid his brother's eyes. They were hot and he could feel them burning a hole into the side of his face.

"Can we just go."

"What is it?" Dean spoke again, this time quieter. Cool fog followed the words out his mouth. "What are you scared of?"

Sam ran both hands through the tendrils of hair over his scalp. He sighed. "I'm ... she's not gonna be able to forgive me."

"Are you gonna be able to forgive yourself?"

There was a long quiet.

It was broken by a car passing noisily. It draws Dean's attention and he nodded quietly to himself. "Fine. Wisconsin?"

"Yeah." Sam agrees quietly.

The car started again, Dean went to turn to radio back up. "Will you grab my jacket, I left it in the trunk. It's fucking freezing in here."

Sam sighed again. "Fine."

"Thanks."

The door clicked open again. He's barely both feet out the car when it grumbles and swerves off the sidewalk, Sam tripped over the edge nearly onto the concrete, and by the time he's stabled himself: the Impala was racing down the main road.

"You'll thank me for this!" His brother's voice faded with the car's black silhouette.

Sam's hands returned to his hair again, "son of a bitch!"

An old lady across the street turned to him with an affronted look. He waves her off, kicking at the same weed the cat had abandoned in the flurry of commotion.

Above him, the diner sign flickers on: The Frothy Mug. He stopped.

It felt like years between when he was last standing under the same light of the sign. In front of the same three steps that he watched your eyes sparkle at him: your hand tucked warmly against his.

"Fucking ..." the expletives died on his tongue. He's right, that asshole.

"I'm a fucking idiot."

Sam's legs began moving before he even knew they were, chasing down the same route he'd meandered along with you three nights previous. He's sprinting, breathing a purposeless afterthought as the diner disappeared behind him.

Past the pharmacy, the laundromat, The Bloom Box. All the way to the end of town where your cottage and your trees and your flowers and you waited for him.

Sam panted clouded breaths as the sight came into view at the end of the road. The morning sunlight lit your garden a bright orangey eden. His steps were just as heavy as they were in the early hours of that same morning when he trudged up the same stone pathway.

He didn't let himself hesitate, bringing red, bruised knuckles up against the hardwood door. The knock rumbled through the house and shakes every bone in his body.

There was a long pause. Then a scuffle, a sniff and a "Goose, get back".

The door creaked and you stood in the doorway like you had the first day his feet found this porch.

While expected, Sam was taken aback by the sight of you. You're in a matching set of pajamas, green - unsurprisingly - and covered in little ladybugs. Your face was swollen with sleep, eyelashes kissing in the corner and lips puffy.

"Sam--" you sighed, but Sam's hands find your shoulders gently.

"I know it's early, but please listen. I'm an idiot." He sounded desperate, but couldn't find a way to help it.

"Yes." You nodded.

"And I'm sorry." He nodded along with you. "And it took Dean kicking me out the car to get me here because - like I said - huge idiot, but I'm sorry. I'm a sorry, sorry idiot who's so in love with you that he doesn't know what to do with himself."

Your eyebrow curls, "Dean kicked you out the car?"

Sam's eyes rolled. "Yes. I was going to leave, because I'm a coward too. A cowardly idiot who doesn't deserve forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyways."

You shrugged, head dipping to almost rest against your shoulder. Your face almost, almost laced in amusement. "Begging always looks a little more convincing on your knees, Sam."

His knees knock loudly when they hit the wooden porch. Sam's hands slide down to find yours.

"I'm sorry." He said again, the only words his brain could formulate under the shine of you in your morning glory - the sight of a woman he wanted to see every morning until forever. "Please let me make it up to you?"

Your hands released his slowly, rising to run through his chestnut hair and settling at the base of his neck. You smile.

He thought he might be dreaming but you lean down and kiss him gently. A tinkle of bells rang through the air and Sam smiled against your mouth.

You brushed your nose against his: "I forgive you, Sam."

Sam's hands grip against your hips before floating back and brushing against the edge of the silken wings at your back.

"Really?"

"Yes. Now come in here and show me how sorry you are."

remember to comment and repost please!

taglist: @firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer @bxtchboy69 @devilslittlebabyxx @bucky-barnes-beloved @susyelectra @spilled-coffee-cup @ashdoctor @deamus-liv @rintheemolion @damonsalavatore-best @ilovetaquitosmmmm @itzdarling @mo-i-ra @saiacross @n7cje @flaming-chaos

111 notes · View notes