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watermelonlipstick · 2 years

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Roadside

This is so, SO overdue, but here’s my entry for @huffle-pissed‘s Vibes and Valentines challenge! My prompt was “Kiss me like that and you might regret it.” Thanks in advance for reading; I would love any advice or critiques!

Title: Roadside

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5741

Summary: At least Sam’s there when the reader’s car breaks down.

Warnings: smut with only the thinnest premise of fluffy story, dommy Sam

He was hot—it was hot. The sun alone was nearly enough to make steam come off the blacktop itself, although you were nearly sure you’d heard that was an optical illusion most of the time. This certainly wasn’t; the huge, lean man in front of you, your car popped open behind him like a themed calendar. Sweat had slowly collected through the fabric of his t-shirt, the grey cotton first gaining a stripe down his back that had swelled to some Rorschach test by this point. You were staring when he ducked out from under the hood and had to pull yourself together to look as casual as possible when you realized he had already been talking. “It’s got a small, like, cylinder piece and a handle like a normal wrench?”

“Oh, ah, sure,” you answered, rifling through the toolbox as quickly as you could to see if anything fitting that description popped out to you. You held up your best guess.

“Perfect, yeah.” He held a palm out while keeping the other hand in the innards of the car, probably holding something in place. When you gave it to him, your fingers grazed his and you felt an electric shock blazed up your arm. Sliding the wrench in, his forearms rippled with tension under a light sheen of sweat as he cranked. After a few moments he drew back from the car, thoughtlessly dipping a hand under the hem of his t-shirt and lifting it as a makeshift handkerchief to dry his face and mouth. Seeing the taut muscles of his abdomen made you feel a little dizzy, and pulling the jersey against his body draped it almost pornographically off of him, the damp sticking in a way that left so little to the imagination he could have been dunked entirely in water. “Man, it’s hot as hell,” he said. “How long were you out here?”

“Not that long, it wasn’t so bad.” Not if this was the reward.

He nodded with an easy smile that showed he wasn’t so sure he believed you. “Well, it should be good now. Do you have a long way to go?”

“Just to the next exit, my motel’s right off the highway.”

Only a beat passed as he considered that. “I think maybe I should trail you? Until you get into town. In case this doesn’t hold out.” It startled you enough to pause before giving him a shy grin, and he seemed to mistake it for hesitation. “Or maybe to a gas station or something, not following you back to—”

“No, no, that’s—that’s fine,” you answered a little too quickly. He smiled back at you, relieved. “Thank you so much, seriously. I don’t even know your name, you must think I’m a total asshole.”

The dimples on both cheeks got even deeper as he extended his hand to you. “Sam. Don’t worry about it; I’m glad I could help.”

It was warm as you shook it, as was everything else in the goddamned desert. Firm and gentle at the same time, calluses against the skin of your palm thick without being rough—a conscientious man who worked with his hands. “Then Sam, I feel like I should tell you that you have some grease on your chin.” Both his eyebrows lifted curiously as he tried to swipe blindly at it with also-dirty hands. You reached out, stopping just before touching his arm to stop him. “You’re—wait, hold on, you’re making it worse,” you giggled, the grey-black spot spreading along his jaw. He glanced over to the car, trying to use the reflection in the window to see himself. Rubbing for a couple seconds didn’t seem to help, and he held up a finger for you to wait.

“I just need one sec and I’ll be ready. Why don’t you fire ‘er up and see if it feels okay to you?”

You nodded, leaving the drivers’ side door open for some air flow and watching him as he walked back to the huge black muscle car he’d been in when he stopped on the road behind you. Bending down to use the mirror to help himself, he tried in vain to keep rubbing the grease off before seeming to lose patience and yanking his sweat-through shirt over his head, the cotton much more effective than his fingers alone. Your mouth dropped open a touch at the truly spectacular sight of him. His size was remarkable, of course, but it had been with his shirt on too. Without it, you saw that the glimpse of stomach you’d seen wasn’t a fluke; his whole body a model of sculpted, functional muscle, the swelled shoulders of a farmer or construction worker. Wholly masculine even without the dark hair collecting into a narrow stream, pouring down his stomach and dipping underneath a non-ostentatious belt buckle. He moved economically, his limbs showing an understanding of his body in space that felt almost elegant as he cleaned himself up and walked to the trunk, trading his now-balled grey shirt for a clean white one that must’ve been stored there.

It was a shame, covering that work of art again. At the very least the freshly clothed man that walked back to you could’ve been out of any cologne ad, long lines of his legs in American jeans and boots kicking up desert dirt. You hoped you looked nonchalant by the time he got to you. “How’s it running?”

“Seems okay, yeah.” You were going for coy but weren’t quite sure you were hitting it, not wanting to seem like a nutjob in front of him—Sam, a perfect name for this ultimate boy-next-door-knight-in-shining-armor, an accessible sense of rock-solidness in the sound itself. His lips split into a brilliant smile at the news.

“Great! Okay, you ready, or do you want a minute?”

“I’m all good if you are. I honestly can’t thank you enough, you totally saved me—”

Sam waved it away. “It’s really nothing. You probably did me a favor, to be honest. My brother usually works on the car, doesn’t give me too many chances to stay sharp.” He smiled at your sheepishness. “So, I’ll just, ah, follow you?”

And follow you he did. Trying your best to look casual in the event he could see you in the cab, you hunted around in your center console for any toiletries, finding a melted Chapstick that burned your finger when you opened it and a now-mushy stick of deodorant. Whatever cherry wax hadn’t spilled off your hand got rubbed into your lips, and you did your best to inconspicuously fish the deodorant through the neck of your shirt for a few swipes. You didn’t really know what you were even doing it for—Sam was, in all likelihood, going to ensure you weren’t so far from civilization that you’d die of exposure if the car broke down again and drive off to live whatever hot guy life he had, leaving you to fantasize about him in your stupid, scratchy motel bed.

The drive gave you a second to muster up the courage to bring Sam and his gigantic Chevy to the parking lot of your motel. You reminded yourself you had nothing to lose, that if you didn’t go for it you’d likely never see this guy again anyway, your rejection an entirely private secret. By the time you saw the sign for vacancies, you’d almost convinced yourself it was a good idea, sticking your hand out the open window to wave Sam into the parking lot after you. When you saw his car park, you opened your door before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it.

He met you about halfway between the vehicles. “Is something wrong?”

Just an offer, don’t psych yourself out. “It’s really, um, hot. Out here. My AC’s barely cutting it and I’m betting yours isn’t either. I was wondering if you would want to, you know, cool off? Inside?”

His eyebrows raised as he realized what you were asking, and his mouth formed around a silent word before he started over. “Ah—yeah. Yeah, okay,” he smirked somewhat disbelievingly. “Let me just, uh, lock the car, I guess.”

You fought the urge to sell past the close and waited for him to return, feeling slightly more confident at the half-skip in his walk as he hurried to the Impala and back. The two of you walked into your room together somewhat awkwardly, standing almost close enough to touch without ever crossing the distance, reminded you were strangers in the middle of the afternoon, without cover of darkness or even a single drink to lubricate. Inside was cool as promised though, the mechanically chilled air hitting you like a soothing curtain as you walked in. Waiting any longer would make you lose your resolve, so when he closed the door behind him a few seconds later you tried to channel someone extremely sexually confident and pressed the length of yourself up into him so that your lips could meet his.

He seemed surprised by the force behind your push, pinning his body to the wall with a tiny grunt before seeming to become ravenous, his hands running through your hair desperately as he kissed you hard. Even with it the restraint in his movements was obvious as he curved down to meet you, his frame that much larger, stronger, this close to you. You felt something animal inside you flare at his hunger, and you let your nails run a little harder than you might’ve down his chest before biting his bottom lip, drawing it away from him as he groaned. Breaking away for only a beat to tug the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, you barely had enough time to relish your skin on that which you’d so admired back on the highway ahead of his flipping your positions and hitching below your thighs to pick you up, weight suspended between his arms and the wall. It made you gasp, and you felt Sam’s smirk against your lips. “Nice trick,” you breathed into the space between your mouths.

“I have better ones,” he murmured, moving along your jaw to kiss-suck at your neck. You believed him entirely, feeling set alight already. A sharp sigh squeaked out when he ground some delicious trigger spot, and your head rolled back on your neck involuntarily. “Ow, fuck—” you snapped as your skull clunked hard against the wallpaper.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, reflexively covering the spot with paradoxical sweetness as his fingers dug beautiful perfect dimples into your ass. “Too rough, my bad—”

“No, no.” It was too emphatic but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Rough is good, I’m just clumsy.”

He smiled, easy and light, letting his forehead tilt to touch yours as he chuckled. The grin was infectious as it spread to you through a brief, remarkably chaste kiss. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up,” you giggled as he tucked back into your neck, his pelvis tilting under you enough to feel the thick ache of him between your legs, through your jeans. After a minute or two, Sam’s arm behind your head folded somehow to become a seatbelt crossing your back and holding you to him as he walked you both to the bed, ease-dropping you down and ignoring the button and fly of your jeans in favor of shucking them off of you like some kind of cartoon, one incredibly hard pull taking them clean to your ankles as you tried not to shriek. By some miracle of modern elastic, your panties were jostled but still on as he covered your body with his, the heat of his body and the cold air of the room impossible contrast, and his fingers circled your neck. He didn’t apply any real pressure; his thumb rested in the hollow of your neck as he sucked on your tongue, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed almost too much to handle.

The thumb brushed back and forth as Sam hovered for a moment, his fingers long enough to curl around the collar of your shirt with the same hand. “Off,” he growled simply, the smirk on his lips devilish. You grinned as you obeyed, shimmying out of not only your shirt but everything underneath it too, laying bare beneath him. He kissed you again before sliding down, teeth dragging lightly and stopping to catch tiny nips of skin as he moved to your hips, angling his broad shoulders and fitting through your legs to lick a firm stripe over the only fabric left covering you, the movement an electric shock.

“I’m probably really—ah, sweaty,” you croaked.

Sam just smiled, his tongue running along the inside of his molars before he drew it through the joint of your hip, his enthusiasm vibrating through his lips. He slipped then to taste a different kind of salt-tang, the sensation so much smoother than the panties pressed against it. When you began to rock against his glistening face, he took two fingers and turned them to hook confidently inside you, the rhythm of his mouth not changing at all as if this was choreography he’d practiced dozens of times. “Holy shit,” you breathed, grabbing a handful of Sam’s hair out of his eyes as he looked up at you. It was impossible not to squirm, and his other arm wrapped around your thigh like an iron bar, holding you in place while he worked magic before your body spasmed and clenched around him. He rode it out as you rode his jaw, leaving you a twitchy, heaving mess on the motel sheets.

You caught your breath together, his head resting on your leg. Feeling slightly less jellied, you scooched back on the mattress until you could sit up, watching Sam slink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Swinging yourself around to get over to him, you slid into his mouth deep-dirty, tasting yourself on his lips and sinking as he clutched at your body, pulling you down onto his lap. The still-tender wet ground against his denim and God, could he really be that big zipped through your head while he pawed at your back. You managed to get hold of the button of his jeans, undoing them as he realized what you were doing and leaned away to help you, his stomach flattening as he flicked them open and you rolled off of him. He rose in his kneel to get at the zipper until you grabbed his hands, stopping him to do it yourself. He got to his feet, about to move to the bed again, but you stayed down, freeing the length of him from the jeans and worn plaid boxers underneath.

Fat drops of precum gathered on the tip of his cock tasted nearly sweet as they passed your lips, and Sam’s head rolled back. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned as you took him into your mouth with considerable effort. You tucked an errant piece of hair behind your ear and he reached down, holding the rest back as you bobbed. He was a playground, opportunity to try all the things you’d ever been curious about with the feedback of unconscious pulsing in his hips and the gorgeous, filthy things coming out of his mouth. The end goal had almost slipped your mind completely when the hand in your hair pulled you all the way off of him, Sam looking down at you on your knees. Motel quilt on your back reminded you how close you still were to the foot board and he bent down to kiss you, curling your head back onto the fabric to scoop under your thighs again. You tried to help scramble back to the mattress but weren’t fast enough as he picked you up and put you onto the bed, sucking down your neck as you giggled through the springs bouncing. “Wanted to bend you over the hood of your car out there, you looked so fucking good,” he growled along your throat.

“Oh yeah?” you breathed, the chills down your spine and the feeling of his body on yours more than enough to distract you from how lame that must’ve sounded.

Sam didn’t seem to care, grazing his teeth along your pulse. “Couldn’t stop thinking about what you looked like under those clothes—” he paused enough for you to feel the grin against you as he sucked an especially sweet spot and your breath hitched. It might as well have been one of those hypnosis recordings you’d tried a couple times to fall asleep, his low murmuring and movements slowly tugging you under a cloud of pheromone coated endorphins. “Tasting you—seeing your lips around my cock—‘s even better than I thought.”

You whimpered like a virgin until Sam’s mouth finally caught yours. He rocked crystal-hard against your thigh and a small, hungry note came from the back of his throat when you bit his lip, forcing him to break.

“Do you have…?” he asked, so close to your face you would’ve been able to count his eyelashes.

You realized the question required a response at the same time you understood what he was asking. “Ye—yeah, of course. Sorry.” Fishing your arm out from the tangle of your bodies toward the nightstand, you were nowhere close to getting to the little bag of toiletries lying there even as you twisted your torso.

“Bag?” Sam asked, his arm easily long enough to cover the distance when you nodded. His skin moved across your nipples as he reached, on its own something you would’ve been able to daydream about for months to come. Tanned fingers flicked purposefully through a handful of tampons and tiny bottles before finding a foil package he ripped open with his teeth, the hand disappearing. You felt him nudge against you before he seemed to change his mind, bringing two fingers to into his mouth while the other wound in hair at the back of your neck.

Sam’s forehead pressed against yours. “Before I get distracted.” The fingers circled before dipping inside at the same time his tongue entered your mouth. You felt remarkably like he was a predator playing with his food without caring one bit. If it had been more elegant, less primal, it could’ve been watching an expert piano player. Within a couple minutes you were clutching for purchase along his chest, his arms, anything to try to hold yourself together as you fell apart. “Look at me,” he said, the hold on your hair tightening a fraction. His eyes were lit from within when you met them, the need in them nearly frenzied as you came spasming around his fingers. “Good girl, just like that.” It was virtually guaranteed your nails would leave marks digging into him. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathed as the heaving of your chest started to even out.

He brushed his cock back and forth against you, pausing. “Yeah?” he asked, something gentle there even with the dark hunger in his eyes. You couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more than you did in that moment, squirming toward him as though you physically couldn’t help it. Nodding made him grin, sly and cocky and excited, and he pushed into you.

It was slow, at first—his quiet, confident self-awareness that you’d need it somehow not coming off like hubris. When you hooked your leg around his hips he started rocking into you, picking up the pace as you threw your head back. Soon he was pulsing fast, forcing you to brace yourself on the headboard behind you with outstretched arms. He curved forward, his teeth catching your neck to pull a groan from it. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed, endorphins suspending you in a frozen limbo you could’ve stayed in forever, when he scooped under your back and picked you up, lifting you as he laid down.

His deft movements rearranged you like a doll, legs on either side of his waist. You nearly fell forward in surprise but the thick pillar of him kept you supported like a puppet, that much deeper than he’d already been with the added gravity of your body. Each pump skewered into you in the most delicious way; for a brief, flitting second of legible thought you felt you understood how people could feel so overcome they spoke in tongues. Taking each of your hips in the broad span of his hands, Sam began to ram up into you hard and fast, some tilt hitting you just right to fall apart again, your head falling back like you were being raptured. He slowed as you came down, wrapping his arms around you to pull in for a long, filthy kiss. “I could watch you all goddamn day,” he murmured against your skin.

Again he moved you as you giggled giddily through the compliment, sliding you back on the bed and standing up. He came around the corner of the mattress and seemed to be making good on his promise, his eyes sliding over your body where you laid. Something about it, being seen like that by this glistening Tarzan, with his shining hair and perfect soft-rough balance, made you feel stripped past your skin to your bones, to the very core of yourself. An insane way to feel for a man you’d just met that day, but there you were.

For what it was worth, the smile Sam gave you in that moment was equally as insane—you were sure then you weren’t imagining the affection there, that there was something just as sparkling in his hazel eyes as there was in the glint of his teeth. He stroked himself for a few seconds, the mere sight of your body a private piece of pornography, before grabbing behind your knees and yanking you down the mattress to where he stood, the backs of your thighs thudding against his and locking in place with his palms. The way he’d pulled you pressed his cock between your legs, as much a taunt as anything, the heat of it feeling like it throbbed against you. He rocked there, taunting with the grind before you drew back and slipped him inside you yourself. Knowing you wanted it that much made Sam bite his lip to keep from smiling too widely. With only a beat or two of buildup, he slammed into you—hands an iron grip on your thighs, pulling you in as much as he thrust forward, the force of it seeming like he could drill you right through the floor and you’d beg him to keep going.

He took a thumb into his mouth and reached down without missing a single stroke, circling your clit. “You going to cum for me again?” he nearly murmured, low and steady.

You would’ve done anything then, but more importantly, it seemed like your body had been crafted as a puzzle for him to take apart and would’ve obeyed without your input. He pounded harder, riding you through the inevitable before he came himself, the muscles in his arms and abdomen clenching while his breath got rough.

The aftershocks had him bracing his weight on stretched, sculpted arms as his breathing evened out before he discreetly shucked the condom into a wastebin and laid down in one relatively fluid motion. If you hadn’t been so thoroughly spent, it might’ve even seemed a little too suave, a little too practiced in its coordination. He sidled up to you, spreading his wingspan in low-pressure invitation for you to lie along his side. It felt—gentlemanly, somehow; the pretense of sex already foregone, the ruse of manners drawn away to reveal a relaxed sincerity you weren’t expecting. It made the inappropriately profound crush you were developing on him worse, the hooks sunk in like ice picks.

Sliding underneath the arm and resting your head on his chest felt treacherous, but it would’ve been more awkward not to. You half expected him to tip forward and kiss your hair, but the way his fingertips brushed back and forth on your bicep, holding you to him, was just as nice. The two of you laid for a few moments, letting your bodies soak in and the hormones float lazily through your bloodstreams.

“Thanks for inviting me in,” he said after a few content minutes. His voice sounded like caramel, lilting enough you could hear the smile behind your head. Propping yourself up to your elbows, you grinned back at him.

“Thanks for coming in,” you answered. He bit his lip, tracing the lines of your face with his eyes for a moment before looking up at the ceiling, letting his smile deepen enough to pull the dimples into his cheeks.

Bashful silence reminiscent of some middle school dance hung in the air just long enough to start to feel awkward, and Sam cleared his throat. “Do you, maybe, ah, wanna get something to eat?” he asked, only a note off of breezy.

The smile wiggled around on your face, threatening to beam. “Sure,” you finally answered. “I could eat.”

He grinned back at you. “Cool. Let me just call my brother, I was supposed to be on my way to see him before you, ah, invited me over.”

Sam did, politely covering himself with the top sheet as he sat up and grabbed his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He poured into them fluidly like a glass of water filling, tucking the phone under his chin while he threw the button together and stood up. You watched him cross to the bathroom, likely looking for some privacy and throwing you a silent, unnecessary ‘sorry!’ before snatching his shirt off the ground and closing the door behind him. Watching the slink of his spine, the jeans low-slung on his hips, even his bare feet, you were nearly thankful for the physical barrier forcing you to stop staring. You stood on then-coltish legs and tried to pull yourself together as quickly as possible, trying in vain to fix your hair in a tiny compact mirror when Sam came out, throwing his t-shirt on. “Ready to go?”

“If you are.”

Walking together across the street was a pleasant kind of silence. Without having to fill the space with words, it the intimacy felt more lived in between the two of you than you might’ve believed if you weren’t experiencing it.

You probably could’ve guessed he’d open the door for you, but it didn’t make it any less gentlemanly when he did. The heat of his hand was palpable hovering over your lower back but he didn’t outright guide you which was somehow more attractive, although it’s possible anything he did would’ve been attractive at that moment. After ordering, you leaned onto the table to rest your chin in your palms.

“So, Sam. You always so chivalrous?”

“Chivalrous?” he asked, the tip of his tongue flicking out to grab his straw.

“I came three times before you were even inside me.”

Sam choked on a sip of Coke, his eyebrows raising in shock as he coughed once through it, smirking as he swallowed. “I didn’t know that was chivalrous.”

You grinned, cheekily pleased you’d managed to surprise him and moving your cup out of the way as you saw the waitress walking over. “What would you call it, then?”

He kept smiling, dimples staying deep as he said a small ‘thank you’ to the waitress and graciously denied a need for anything else when she asked. When his eyes met yours again, they were coy. “Guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

Picking up a fry and blowing on it, you rolled your eyes. “Sounds like a yes to me. Is that some pickup artist always-leave-them-wanting-more thing?” It was Sam’s turn to roll his, accepting the teasing as flirtatious as you’d hoped he would. “Or are you some mythical being luring women in on the side of the road?”

Bedroom eyes looked back at you atop his smile. “If I remember, it was you on the side of the road.”

“Don’t change the subject,” you said, hoping the heat of flattered embarrassment wasn’t obvious on your face.

After a few beats he realized you were serious and stretched back in the booth, running a hand over the back of his hair. “I don’t know, it’s less—distracting, maybe? If I don’t, ah, you know, take care of it, I have a hard time not thinking about it.”

“Take care of it? How romantic,” you laughed.

“Whatever, you know what I mean. Easier to have fun if everyone is.” He rolled his eyes but seemed to be a good sport about the ribbing, grabbing a fry and biting it in half. “Plus it’s hot.”

The sly smile he gave made you giggle like a schoolgirl, and he grabbed a few more fries. He really was handsome—gorgeous, even—with high cheekbones and those dimples, his neck the wide-strong of an athlete. You only knew you’d been staring when one of his eyebrows twisted up, silent curiosity of whether something was wrong.

“So, um, what do you do?” you tried to cover, intently focusing your gaze on picking the next fry.

Sam swallowed and took a sip of his drink. “I work with my brother.”

“Same brother you called? Hope I didn’t mess with your job.”

“No, I—” he grinned, slightly embarrassed at misspeaking. “I mean yeah, same brother. But you didn’t mess with anything. And even if you had, I ah…I wouldn’t have cared.”

That made you flush and you struggled to think of something clever to say before deciding you couldn’t come up with anything, wishing you could’ve held onto the spunky, raunchy girl you’d been able to put on before you got lost traveling his face. “What do you guys do? Are you from around here?” Stupid, don’t be clingy.

He swallowed and you worried maybe you had mis-stepped. “Not from around here. We’re, uh, exterminators? Sort of exterminator consultants.”

“Sexy,” you smirked, enjoying the reappearance of his dimples.

“Family business, I guess. It’s what my dad did.” He pivoted abruptly, clear but sweet Not Interested In Discussing in his tone. “My guess is you’re not from around here.”

“Oh really? What gave it away?”

His eyebrows crooked incredulously. “The motel?”

You hoped the ‘fuck, right’ didn’t show on your face too clearly, winking as if it was always a joke rather than a chunk of your brain shutting down for how badly you wanted this plate of fries to last forever, to split a milkshake with two straws like teenagers after a sock hop. “Maybe you should be a detective, Mr. Exterminator.”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You’re losing him. “You must get along with your brother pretty well to work together.”

“Yeah, we—yeah, we really do. We’re a good team, I guess. Makes it a lot easier to be on the road together all the time.”

His fond smile was reassuring both in the way it seemed like you still had his attention and in the sweetness his being close to his brother showed. “How long have you guys been on the road?”

“A while. Where are you from? Close to here?”

You took a sip of your drink to stall. “No, not close really. I’m just passing through.”

He considered that with a downward turn of his lips. “To where?”

A deep breath blew out of your nose, continued inability to answer this question one of the recurring frustrations in your life. Something about Sam felt right, though—open, like he would understand—and if he didn’t get it, you probably wouldn’t ever see him again anyway. No harm, no foul. “To nowhere, really. You know, ‘finding myself’ or whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes to show you understood how it sounded and that you thought it was lame too even if secretly, sincerely, it didn’t. ‘Finding yourself’ may have been less accurate than ‘running’, but if you were worried about scaring this guy off by wondering what he did for work, you certainly weren’t going to tell him your whole life story right off the bat.

Sam looked at the table, slowly rotating his glass with his fingers. “Well if nowhere is ever close by, it would be cool to, ah, see you. Again.” He finally glanced back up when he was done speaking, as though he could handle the aftermath but not the implied question itself.

The heart thumping in your chest seemed not to remember this guy had already been inside you, ohmygodhelikesme bounding through your bloodstream and drawing a smile across your face like a crisp clean sheet. “I think that could be arranged.”

You could’ve written a bubblegum pop ballad for those dimples. Sam’s tongue moved along the underside of his molars as he grinned across the table.

He paid the check without looking at it, leaving a fold of bills on the table and walking you back across the street to the motel room door like he was dropping you off at home after a date on a school night. Standing at the threshold, you struggled with the feeling that you didn’t want him to leave, feeling ridiculously like you were saying goodbye to someone you really knew, not this random hot guy who’d fixed your car and blown your back out.

“So. See you later?” Sam asked, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck nervously.

You swallowed and nodded before pressing to your tiptoes and kissing him deeply, slipping your tongue into his mouth and biting his lower lip, dragging it a bit as you stood back. “See you later.”

Sam smiled with his eyes closed. “Kiss me like that and you might regret it,” he murmured, his hand lingering on your lower back for a beat before dropping.

“Somehow I doubt that,” you grinned into the heat of him.

It would’ve been enough, the memory of the day and the way he took a few steps backward like he couldn’t bear taking his eyes off you even a beat too early. But about fifteen minutes after you got back into your room, your phone went off:

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bleepbloops213 · 10 months

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Hi i'm new to writing but i was wondering if you would give me some prompts please :)

#sam winchester imagines #reader x sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x y/n

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scribeofwinchesters · 1 month

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Secrets and Lies: Chapter 12 - Absolution

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 5,280

Summary: “I can’t change what I did and truly all I want is your forgiveness. Not absolution–or–or salvation… Just… forgiveness.”

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten Eleven

A/N: I hope you all like this chapter and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are always welcome <3 Alsooo don't worry. This is not the end. I felt like this seemed like an ending so I wanted to be clear. I feel like I've been giving y'all blue balls so don't worry, we're gonna get our smut on real soon, folks! ;) Most likely the next part will also wrap everything up and will be the last part but I'm already working on a new sam x reader fic that takes place at the beginning of s.10 but is a continuation of the same relationship that is present in all my fics.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa @dottirose

When you first woke sometime later, you continued to drift in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours. You were faintly aware of Sam’s presence on the other side of you–your feet tangled with his legs as he curved around you. But the meds Dean gave you were strong and continued to pull you back down into unconsciousness.

In the hazy moments of awareness, you could hear Sam and Dean talking quietly to each other. Their voices lulled you back into a comforted sleep. Another moment, despite your back to him, you could feel Sam sitting back against the headboard, reading. Each rustle of the pages turning was a quiet thrill that made you smile unconsciously in your sleep, even more so when he began using his free hand to casually caress figure eights onto your back.

Sometime after that, you found Sam alongside you, over the blankets but still snuggled against you, his flanneled arm draped over you. He’d laced fingers with yours and held your hand over your heart. You felt him nuzzle his nose into your hair and inhale deeply before gently pressing his lips to the crown of your head. This, combined with the sun shining in from the window by the door and your desperate thirst, was enough to finally push you fully into consciousness.

The ice bag rested heavily on top of your cheek and was as cold as ever. Dean must have made a fresh one.

You whined softly as you stretched your legs and let out a yawn. Instinctively, you moved your arms and Sam withdrew his, allowing you to stretch them out in front of you, noticing with each shift the aches in parts of you that you didn’t even know could ache. Your lungs felt bruised, somehow, from the strain the shifter had put on them in its attempt to suffocate you. The large bruises on the back of your arms, your waist, and your thighs where it had coiled itself tightly around you pulsed out painful reminders.

You turned over, taking the ice bag with you, and nestled it between your cheek and the pillow. Each movement brought on more frustration, stirring you further from your sleep as you wrestled with your appendages in a vain attempt to settle into a position that didn’t hurt.. Grasping the top sheet in your fingers, you pulled your hands together and rested them beneath your chin.

You blinked slowly as your eyes adjusted to the light.

Sam was right there, watching you. His face lit up as your eyes settled on his. His shaggy, brown hair was tucked behind his ears and he was dressed in jeans and an old grey and blue flannel. You took stock of the bandages on his neck and cheek and chin and wondered how many more there were that you couldn’t see.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” you croaked. A beat passed before you painfully cleared your throat and asked, “When was the last time you laid in bed this late?”

Sam smirked as he thought about it for a moment. “Laid in bed with you, like this? At three in the afternoon? Hmm…,” his eyes narrowed on you as he thought. “Probably a few months… Was it New Year's Day? … Certainly not often enough.”

Your heart raced and you took as deep a breath as you could manage. Sam wouldn’t be talking to you like this if he hadn’t decided to stay, right?

“New resolution: stay in bed more,” you rasped with a careful smile before a tiny cough caught in your throat and you pulled the sheet over your mouth as you let it out.

“I can get on board with that,” Sam said grinning broadly as he climbed off the bed and made his way around. He grabbed the full cup from the nightstand as you carefully pulled yourself back to rest against the headboard. A groan or a hiss escaped your lips with each painful movement. Sam leaned over you, careful not to spill the water, and adjusted the pillow behind your back before moving the ice bag to the nightstand. He crouched down and handed you the cup which you drank down in seconds, stopping once to cover a painful cough.

Sam’s brow furrowed as he tried to force his concerned frown into a smile. He grabbed Dean’s steel water container and refilled your cup as you held it out for him. Once he was sure you weren’t going to chug the second cup as well, he joined you back on the bed. This time he sat with his legs crossed under him and faced you.

You glanced around the room. “Dean?”

“Supply run,” Sam said. You nodded before taking a sip of water. He watched you for several long moments before looking away, as if steeling his nerves. He took a deep breath and when he turned back you saw that his eyes were glistening again, like last night, and you were back in that old place, the place where your heart ached and begged to stop all of his pain and guilt and regret and longed to remind him how worthy and caring and honorable he was and how all the bullshit he’d endured wasn’t on him...

You took another sip and closed that door in your mind. You weren’t sure Sam still wanted you to take care of him in that way and until you were, that wasn’t a weight you could take on… not right now.

“Y/n… I’m so-”

“I’m okay, Sam,” you said, cutting him off. The corners of your lips twitched up into your best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Dean stopped it. I’m still here. You’re still here. Everything’s okay.”

Okay, so maybe that door didn’t close so easily…

“Please, y/n, just let me say this,” he said before inhaling sharply. “I— I never should have left.”

You shook your head at him. “Please don’t do that.”

“What?”

“We both know by now that shit just happens and all any of us can do is be there to help pick up the pieces, maybe stop it if we’re lucky. We’re not always going to be lucky,” you shrugged. “So don’t act like you should have done something–like you could have done something… because clearly, life doesn’t work that way.”

Sam swallowed hard and looked away from you. “I never should have taken that damn case. I should have given it to Dean. I should have come straight home,” he muttered.

“Sam,” you said before biting anxiously at your bottom lip. The thing that had been gnawing at the edge of your thoughts was finally ready to bubble out. “Look, I know this has thrown a wrench in your, uh, plans. I still mean what I said the other night–if you’re not ready to come back, don’t do it just because of–because of all this. I’ll be okay for a bit. Awhile even. If you have any doubts… about–about us–I need you to deal with them before you–if you decide to…” You stumbled over your words and took a sharp breath, ready to push past the one word you couldn’t get your mouth to utter. “if you can– if you can forgive me.”

Sam dragged his hand down his face as the tears started to slip down his cheeks. He pinched his bottom lip anxiously like he did when research was beginning to fail him. Normally, when you caught him doing that, you’d walk up behind him and pull his hands into yours as you leaned over and pecked little kisses down the side of his face until you found his lips, and–still grasping his hand in yours–tilted his face up and pressed your lips to his, taking a long, silent moment before opening your mouth to him and slipping your tongue gently and momentarily between his lips. Your breath turned shallow from the memories and you quickly wiped away a tear as you wondered how you’d ever be able to keep yourself from him.

Sam stared up at the ceiling a moment before looking back and studying you for a long moment. His brows knit together and suddenly he leaned toward you and pulled you into his arms as he lifted you with an almost disconcerting ease. You fought through the ache in your muscles as you shifted your legs and nestled yourself around his hips before resting your chin on his shoulder and encircling him in your arms. He slowly caressed his fingers up and down your back.

“Sam…,” you said softly against his ear, your chin pushing into his shoulder as you spoke.

“You know… when I was out in the woods, setting up my tent, hiking the trails, just trying to clear my mind–that plan completely backfired. All I could think about was you. I watched the creeks flowing, saw little pools of minnows and frogs and swimming ducks and I thought of you and how much you’d love it. I saw an owl up high in a tree and I wished I could show you. I watched the sunset and I wished you were there holding my hand, telling me what the colors reminded you of. I stared up at the stars and I swear I saw your face. The moon was a beautiful, clear, perfect crescent–just like you always love to point out to me when you see it. You were everywhere. It was so much that I almost prayed to Cass, sure that he was doing this to me on purpose. But I knew better. It wasn’t Cass or any other magic. It was just… you. My love for you.”

Your heart caught in your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks as he spoke. You pulled your chin down to the fabric above his clavicle and pressed a kiss into him as you shifted your grip on your forearm, squeezing him tighter as your tears dripped onto Sam’s back.

“I couldn’t sleep. I debated calling you–debated if I should just pack up and drive back home to you. Then I got news from a hunter about a case close to home and decided I could wrap it up quick and be home in a couple of days and that way you’d still get your space–in case you needed it now–after–after the way I’d treated you that night.”

“Sam,” you said, whispering his name again. That wasn’t your favorite memory but you didn’t want it to be something he berated himself for forever.

“I know, just let me finish. I need to say this.”

You loosened your embrace on him and trailed your fingers up his neck, unintentionally eliciting a soft gasp from him at your touch. Your fingers found your target as you brushed them–opened and closed–around his crown, gliding slowly through his hair. His chest, pressed to you, fell and rose shallower now.

“Oh my god… you're making this… more difficult than I imagined,” he said, his voice strained.

“Sorry,” you said, the small smile evident in your tone. “It’s just… this last week has been incredibly–excessively–unbearably shitty and I needed you so bad–not needed you, needed you–just–you know–needed you. Dean did his best–the best friend I could ever ask for–but when you hold me–I feel… healed… salvageable… I’m not-”

“Shh…,” Sam soothed you as he gripped your shoulders and pulled you away from him so that he could look into your eyes. “I’m here and I got you and I’m not going anywhere. Now, listen to me. Of course I forgive you, okay? I forgive you a million times over. Tell me you’d make the same choice again and again and I’ll say, ‘Yes, do it’. Tell me you need to wipe my mind again right now and I’ll say, ‘Please’ without giving it another thought. If you made a call then it was the right one. Full stop. I know you, and you know me,” he said, squeezing your shoulders before letting go and cupping either side of your face in his wide palms, ensuring you couldn’t look away from him as he spoke but careful to avoid the laceration on your cheek.

“It took me a little bit to sort through the memories of that night after Cass gave them back to me. At first all I could see was you–bloody, screaming in agony as I lifted you–I woke up hearing that scream in my nightmares, y/n… but then, there it was, a thought that prickled at the back of my mind as I held you so still that my arms were cramping–you didn’t deserve this life and Dean and I were monsters for pulling you into it–for keeping you in it. This is why we don’t do attachments in this life. It’s not safe. And loving me was going to be the death of you.”

You shook your head and he let go of you, dropping his hands to find yours, weaving each finger with his.

“You were right, y/n,” he said. “Don’t you see? You were right.”

“No, Sam,” you said, still shaking your head. “Don’t do that. I was wrong, okay? My choices were wrong. I can’t change what I did and truly all I want is your forgiveness. Not absolution–or–or salvation… Just… forgiveness.

Sam closed his eyes and was silent for several long seconds as your words washed over him. Finally, he whispered, “I love you,” and leaned forward to press his lips chastely against yours before he pulled back just enough for his heavy breath to warm your skin. “Is this okay?” he asked.

You paused, surprised at yourself for not immediately responding, ‘yes’. And realized you were not sure what to make of it, of him. And his beautiful words were too much. It was all overwhelming.

“Y/n?”

“I’m so sorry,” you said as you dropped your head into your hands and squeezed your eyes shut. Fresh tears dripped into your palms as you quietly sobbed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me–I know you’re Sam. You are Sam. You are my Sam. And I adore you, too. You know that, right?” you asked. “I can’t find all the words right now to convey it the way you did. I’m so–it’s just been a–a shitty fucking week,” you said as you lifted your red, blotchy face up to look at him and took in several slow, deep breaths.

Sam’s eyes widened with concern and you saw his chest rise and fall rapidly with panicked breaths. “I do–I do know that,” he said as fresh tears misted his eyes. You could see he wanted to comfort you, to hold you, but he wasn’t sure anymore if that was right, so he pulled himself away.

Your tears came harder then and you gripped the comforter into a ball. You were furious, you wanted to scream out in anguish. You wanted to stop. fucking. crying. But you couldn’t. It all just spilled out and all you wanted was for Sam to wrap you in a hug and hold you and kiss your forehead and stroke your back, but there was another part of you that wanted him to stay away from you–to leave you the fuck alone.

You felt like you were being torn in two and it was an emotional agony that paled in comparison to what you felt the night you and Sam fought or even the misery of the days after. You stood and fumbled around your boots and clothing, looking for your phone. Sam’s voice sounded like it was being carried over a pool of water that sat above you as he called your name. You ignored him. You found your phone on the nightstand, no doubt plugged in and charged thanks to the ever thoughtful Sam, and made your way to the bathroom where you shut the door behind you, too scared to look back at him. It broke your heart to imagine his expression upon hearing the soft click of the lock but you did it all the same.

You turned the cold knob on the sink and tried to focus on the sound of the rushing water as you cupped your hands under the stream and watched the water rush across your skin in airy streams. It was cool and calming and you splashed several handfuls over your face before patting it dry with the hand towel, careful of your cut.

You unlocked your phone and called Dean.

“Y/n?” Dean asked as he answered the phone before the first ring had even finished.

“Dean?”

“You good?”

“I, uh–yeah, I’m good,” you lied.

Dean could hear the congestion in your voice and knew you’d been crying.

In an instant his tone turned gravelly and flat. “What’s wrong?”

“I just, um, I know it’s Sam but–I don’t know why but I suddenly wasn’t so sure–but that doesn’t make sense because I do know–I do know that’s Sam,” you choked back your tears and swallowed hard. “He–I just…,” you trailed off. There was a silence between you for a moment.

“Y/n, the shifter’s dead, okay? I killed it. And I just got the other one into the trunk so we can burn it, too. I’ll be there in ten but in the meantime, I’m sure Sam won’t mind if you have to test him again to be sure, okay, kiddo?”

You nodded to yourself. “Okay,” you whispered before sniffing and wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Deep breaths,” Dean reminded you.

You took a deep breath and winced at the sharp pain in your lungs as you inhaled.

“Sorry,” you said as a guilty tear spilled down your cheek.

“Don’t be. I’ll stay on the phone with you ‘til I’m back,” he said.

You took another deep breath and counted to five before letting it out and counted to five again as you exhaled, ignoring the pain.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay, Dean,” you said as you hung up the phone before he could counter you.

You glanced in the mirror for the first time since you weren’t even sure when. Your hair was a crazy, tangled mess and your face was stamped with a bright splotch of red across your cheek, an almost perfect handprint. The two butterfly closures held the broken skin together. There was a big, dark bruise forming beneath your eye, above the cut. The shifter really had hit you as hard as it could, which was saying something for a monster. You quickly brushed through your hair with your fingers and pulled it into a manageable but loose bun. You turned to face the door and shut your eyes as you gently shook your whole self, before slowly opening the door. Sam sat at the edge of the bed, waiting quietly as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“You scared me,” he murmured as he looked up at you.

“Sorry,” you said as you hesitated in the doorway. “I know you’re not…,” you trailed off and took a slow step toward him. “Your whole being–your whole presence is the opposite of it so I know you’re not–but for a second a part of me was there again and–well, without Dean here–I’m sorry. Not that you–” you said, fumbling over your words before Sam cut you off.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Sam said. “I know exactly what it’s like to have no idea what’s real and what’s in your head.”

Of course Sam would know; he’d told you vague stories of the torture he’d endured in the cage before you’d met him. The other pieces Dean filled in, about his visions of Lucifer taunting him, and the scar on his palm that reminded him he was safe. When Sam was having a really bad day you’d sometimes gently trace a finger across that scar to remind him of that fact. And on even worse days, when you had a moment alone, you’d peck small kisses to it.

He held his hand out and waited for you to take it as you approached him. When you did, he pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around your hips as he nestled his face into your waist. You twisted your fingers in his hair as he sighed a ragged breath into you. You stood there just like that, silent, as Sam breathed in and out, comforted by your fingers tracing up and down his scalp and twisting idly in his hair.

“Will it help if you tell me about it?” he asked after a minute.

You considered the idea. “Maybe–later though, or tomorrow–not yet–and besides, Dean’s gonna be back soon,” you said. He looked up at you. Those big, pitiful–beautiful eyes that you’d walk across shattered glass and hot coals to see just one more time. You didn’t need to cut his arm to know he wasn’t a shifter. This was all Sam. You disentangled a hand from his hair and lightly prodded at his left arm causing him to release you. You slid your fingers down the length of his arm as he bent it up to you. When you reached his wrist you gently grasped it in your palm and pulled it up to your lips so you could press a kiss to his scarred palm.

“I love you,” you murmured as you released his wrist. He glided his palm across your jaw and cupped it as he rose to his feet. Your other arm slid down and you slipped it under the back of his shirt to hold him just above his hip, urging him to stay close.

“Love you,” he whispered back. He held fastly, now, to either side of your face as he ducked down and pressed his lips to yours. You released his hip and lifted your hands, resting them over his as he held you, ensuring he didn’t release you before you were ready. You opened your lips to him and he hesitated for the briefest second before deepening the kiss and slipped his tongue momentarily along yours. You could feel the electricity buzzing between you as he started to pull back. You leaned forward and captured his lips with yours.

“More,” you murmured against his mouth. Obedient as always, Sam kissed you back, hungrily now, like he needed your lips on his to sustain himself. He angled your face up and deepened the kiss with his tongue. Gently, he sucked your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it and going back to your lips for more. You sighed into him as you released his hands. He let one trail over your neck as the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer and eliciting a low gasp from your lips. You cupped the side of his face with one hand as you let the other one return to his hair, just behind his ear where you drew light circles with your thumb.

“I should shower,” you said, remembering Dean was on his way.

“I’m the one that needs the cold shower,” he whispered with a smirk as you rested your hands on his chest.

“Oh please, it takes way more than that to get you going.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he said as he gently grasped your hand and pulled it down so that you could feel his partially stiffened cock beneath his jeans. He smiled at the blush that flushed your cheeks as he shifted sideways, turning his back to the door and walked you backwards toward the bathroom.

“I really missed you,” he said as he pressed his lips to the juncture of your neck and jaw.

The roar of the Impala broke the trance and you broke apart. You listened as Dean pulled the car to the door and cut the engine off. Dean entered the room in a rush, not even bothering to shut the car door behind him. He looked to you and then to Sam and arched an eyebrow. You made your way to Dean as Sam sat uncomfortably down at the edge of the bed, tugging at his jeans as he crouched.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Something like that,” you said as you hugged him. “Thanks for–”

“ ‘Course,” he said as he continued to study you before glancing again to Sam. “Okay, well, you two ready to put this place in the rearview after we eat a quick bite? Because I sure as shit am,” he said as he clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. He turned and made his way back out the motel door, leaving it hanging open as he rifled through the back seat before returning with a plastic bag and a paper tray with three sweating cups of ice cold soda in one hand and a brown paper bag that smelled greasy and warm and delicious in the other. The smell awakened your appetite and your stomach rumbled in response.

“Holy shit, I’m fucking hungry,” you said, eliciting a small chuckle from Sam.

“Good, cause I got your favorite cheeseburger: extra mustard, extra pepper, add jalapenos,” Dean said as he kicked the door shut behind him and set the drinks down on the table.

Your mouth watered as you took the bag from Dean and set it on the table, hungrily pulling a fistful of fries from the bag, and stuffing them in your mouth as you took a seat. You didn’t have the heart to tell him your throat may be too sore to enjoy mustard and jalapenos and you were too hungry to really care.

“Hey, those better not be my fries!” Dean shouted. You stiffened and glanced hesitantly in his direction. Sam’s lips twitched up into a small smile at you before he saw that Dean was handing him the plastic bag.

“Oh, thanks,” he said hesitantly as he squinted at the bag.

“Only thing around here was a wally-world so those’ll have to do,” Dean said as he made his way back to the table and sat across from you. He pulled one of the cups from the tray and took a long pull.

You were already three bites into your burger and had dumped the fries on to the paper wrapping when Dean fished his food out of the bag. You turned and watched as Sam pulled a large shoe box from the bag and lifted one of the boots out. They were steel-toe, dark brown work boots. “They’ll definitely do,” he said as he pulled them on and fussed with the laces. To you, they looked closer to something Dean would choose for himself than what Sam normally wore but the options were surely slim.

“You gonna eat, Sammy?” Dean asked a moment later. You looked back to see Sam was still at the edge of the bed, watching you and Dean devour your meals. There was a hesitancy in his eyes that confused you and you furrowed your brows at him. He shook his head and smiled as he stood up.

“So, the bunkers good?” you asked Dean after handing Sam his burger. There were only two seats at the small dinette table so Sam sat at the foot of Dean’s bed and took a careful bite of his cheeseburger.

“Good as it can be,” he said as he chewed a large bite. “Cass said everything was fine. Had to have been some kind of spell–a cloaking spell or an entry spell–that either the shifter already knew or got from, you know, Sam’s beautiful mind,” he said before taking another pull from his soda.

You grimaced at the thought. Sam let out a guilty huff before leaning his long body off the bed and over to the table and to take one of your fries as he kissed your cheek.

“S’okay,” you said as he sat back down. You lifted your leg and rubbed your pointed toe along the side of his calf. A pained smile crossed his face as he looked to you.

You finished the last bite of your cheeseburger and took a giant gulp from the soda, tossed a few fries quickly in your mouth and stood up, wiping your hands off with a napkin. “Finish my fries for me, Sam,” you said. “Gonna shower real quick.”

Sam’s palm rested on his knee and you made sure to pass him closely enough that you could graze two fingers over the back of his hand. His hand twitched reflexively from the sudden, unexpected touch.

“Be careful of your cut,” he whispered. You smiled tenderly at him from the doorway before turning and shutting the door.

You showered–for the first time since–and it felt so good to finally, really wash the shifter off. You let the hot water relax the tension in your shoulders and neck and scrubbed gently at your scalp with the motel shampoo. You paid extra attention with the sudsy washcloth, trying to make sure you scrubbed every part of you that the shifter touched. It wasn’t enough, you could still feel it and as the memories started to enter your mind, you hurried through the rest of your shower, not comfortable to be alone with your own thoughts.

When you were done, you put on fresh clothes you had tucked away in your go-bag. More plaid flannel, t-shirts and dark-washed jeans. The clothing was just practical for hunting, more than anything. Although, it was nice to look like you actually belonged with Sam and Dean when you went anywhere. Sometimes you would see other girls in their crop tops or chunky sweaters, baggy jeans and sneakers, floral dresses that cinched at the waist paired with platform boots–all things with even the vaguest whiff of a ‘fashion sense’ and you’d feel a pang of jealousy for yours long lost.

You brushed gently through your wet hair and pulled it into a quick braid, easy and out of the way, the short pieces fell loose around your face. You peered out of the bathroom. Sam was packing his bag on top of his side of the bed.

He looked up when he heard the door open and turned back to smile at you. The front door hung open and you could hear Dean packing up the Impala.

“You’re so cute,” he said. You shrugged as you slung your duffel over your shoulder.

You arched a brow at him. “I look like I went three rounds with a lawnmower,” you said with a huff of laughter as you sat at the edge of the bed to pull on your boots, dropping your bag back to the floor.

“I like when you braid your hair,” he said as he brushed one of the loose pieces back and tucked it behind your ear.

“Cut to me–practicing a dutch braid–then–cue the montage–as I perfect the waterfall braid, the half-up half-down twist, the mermaid, the fishtail and the low plait as ‘Every Little Thing She Does is Magic’ by The Police plays,” you said with a grin as you laced your boots.

Sam playfully rolled his eyes as he slung his bag over his shoulder before picking up yours and doing the same.

“I can carry it,” you said, as you stood up and slipped your phone into your back pocket.

“I know you can,” he said as he indicated for you to walk on in front of him. You shook your head before walking to the car and climbed in the backseat. Dean didn’t protest as Sam, too, climbed in back. You fell asleep, slumped against Sam’s shoulder, hands laced together over his knee as CCR crackled through the speakers.

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lenavonschweetz · 10 months

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Grace For Sale

Sam Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: Your town could definitely handle themselves, but a little help isn’t something you’d willingly turn down. When the Winchesters show up - do things get better, or worse?

Warnings: language, anti-religious sentiments, slight religious inner conflict, angst? If you squint?, smut, Under 18 keep faaaar away.

A/N: Takes place during s5:e17 - 99 Problems. So funny story, I actually AM a preacher’s kid so this episode kinda made me laugh then gave me the idea for this. Title comes from The Devil’s Carnival. Also, this has been sitting in my drafts for literal years, guess it’s about time I post it. As always, I don’t have a beta so please excuse any typos. I’ll fix any that are pointed out to me.

Enjoy!

Sam and Dean aren’t exactly sure what to make of your little town.

The welcome wagon was a little more off the wall than they were used to - what with a firetruck full of holy water, a portable exorcism, and a group of civilians that actually knew about the things that go bump in the night. Still, it wasn’t…the strangest introduction they’d encountered.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?” Sam asks as Dean steers impala into town - right on the tail of the Sacrament Lutheran Militia’s truck. What kind of a name was that anyway?

A church looms overhead, answering Sam’s unspoken question, and he wishes he hadn’t even asked.

It’s definitely the apocalypse, what with the devil’s trap brandishing the walkway up to the church door.

Sam’s eyes are heavy - spending the wee hours of the night fighting hellspawn will do that to you. Especially when you’re bleeding out. At least the militia had some quick fix first aid handy.

The first thing the brothers notice upon entering the sacred building is the couples standing at the alter, all facing the priest who prattles on about finding something special amidst the impending doom. The second thing they notice is all of the townsfolk holding shotguns.

Sam scoffs.

“A wedding? Seriously?” How in God’s name - no, y’know what, scratch that - how in the Hell were they hosting a wedding at a time like this?

“Yup. We’ve had 8 so far this week.” The man to his right, Paul, says and it’s obvious Sam isn’t the only one who’s less than impressed. At least they’re in good company.

It’s definitely the first time the brothers can be completely transparent in their introductions. Sure, sometimes they’re found out, or sometimes they’re among other hunters. But to tell an entire town - and a priest, no less - that they are demon hunters? Yeah, that may take a little getting used to.

So is the priest toting a gun and the children packing salt rounds in the basement of the church. Dean makes a quip about running scared or sticking around and making a home out of the place and Sam thinks he’d be leaning toward the later if the end of the world wasn’t resting on their shoulders.

But none of that explained how a whole town had taken up hunting.

Well, until the mystery prophet is introduced in the form of the “Packing Preacher’s” daughter - Leah.

Well…he’d been through stranger.

Dean makes a pass at her - right in front of her father. The father. Sam just rolls his eyes, gaze landing on the corner where another figure lurks.

Oh.

This one…he thinks…this one is much more his speed.

“Ah, my other daughter.” Pastor Gideon says, holding a hand out to beckon you forward. Sam watches as you push off the wall and approach the group. There’s little family resemblance, he notes, but definitely isn’t complaining. While your sister is clad in muted colors, baggy sweater, and tennis shoes - you opt for something a little form-fitting under your dark leather jacket with the combat boots to match. You scream ‘hunter’, ‘capable’, and ‘danger’ more than anyone else in this town and he has trouble tearing his eyes off of you. Now, you’re not complaining. In fact, your eyes linger on Sam just as much as he does on you. And when he realizes this, the mountain of a man becomes a flustered mess. It brings a smirk to your face and a blush to his. “Y/N, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“So I’ve heard.” You chuckle, arms crossing in front of the very cleavage Sam’s staring at beneath your open flannel. You cock a brow, baiting him, though he seems too nervous with your father present to answer the challenge. “Shame Leah never mentioned you. Though,” you cast an appreciative glance over their strong frames and Sam very nearly shivers. Beside him, Dean practically preens. “I can see why. If I knew fine specimens such as yourself were going to be crashing in our little town, I’d keep it to myself too.”

The Father is none too amused when you wink at your sister and the two of you share a giggle. Again, Sam notes the distinct lack of resemblance but brushes it off.

“Y/N,” Your father says in warning, which you completely ignore and grant the taller Winchester another ravenous once over before turning on your heel. If anyone asked, you would deny that you were overemphasizing the swing of your hips.

“If you need me,” you tell him without so much as a glance, calling over your shoulder as you saunter up the basement stairs. “I’ll be at Paul’s!”

—————

The next time you see the brothers, it’s at the house Leah’s vision lead you to. Well, actually, that’s a lie. You saw them the night before at Paul’s bar, but they seemed to be wrapped up in a very important conversation - if the concentration on their brows had anything to say about it.

Still, that hadn’t stopped you from ordering the brothers a couple of beers. To his credit, Paul doesn’t judge you - which is a lot more than you can say for your family as of late - and even brought the boys their drinks so that you could do the ever so clique cheers across the bar.

Sam merely nodded in his head in thanks, raised his own beer with a silent ‘cheers’, then went back over to his brother.

So you couldn’t get a better read on them that night. That’s ok. It gave you the perfect opportunity to ogle to your heart’s content.

They were some fine specimens, that’s for sure. The perfect hunters. Sharp eyes, strong statures. Hell, Sam looked like he could take out multiple demons all on his own - I mean, come on. Those arms!

God, you had gotten such a perfect look at them while they brooded and planned what with the way Sam’s sleeves had been rolled and pushed up to his elbows. Had you ever found forearms as attractive as you did at that moment? Probably not.

And that jawline? Christ, you could cut glass on that thing.

The sideburns may have been a little much, but hell, if that was all you could pin as off, you’d take it!

Your ogling session had been cut short by the bell tolling - another of your sister’s visions - and after arguing with your father in front of the whole church that ‘yes, I am going with them’ - your hunting group was on the doorstep of the abandoned home. Most of the townspeople are toting guns full of salt or sprayers of holy water, all armed with the ridiculous incantation your sister had told you to use to exorcise them.

But not Sam. No, Sam was only wielding a knife, and God did he make it look easy. If you weren’t too busy kicking ass and getting your ass kicked, you’d be drooling over that too.

Only when the dust settles do you take the opportunity to approach the brothers.

“You really are the hunters my sister made you out to be.” Sam’s perfect eyebrow arches at that, gaze flickering to the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy panting.

“You didn’t think we would be?” You mirror his smirk and shrug, ignoring the way Dean is eyeing the two of you like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head. Honestly, he probably did. Dude seemed about as horny as you did.

“So,” Sam pants, following the group out of the house. You miss the way he’s eyeing your ass as you’re just steps ahead of him. “That’s what it’s like.” There’s no shortage of sexual innuendo in his voice and you decide to poke the bear a little more. Whether your father was in earshot or not.

“What what’s like?” You’re turned to him now, handing in your pockets and treading carefully backward. He meets your hungry look with one of his own and shivers absolutely rattle your body. Again he smirks, making sure the coast is clear of your father before saddling up right next to you.

“Having back up.” He all but whispers in your ear, large hand grazing just inches above your bottom and god, how did he make such an innocent statement sound so filthy. There’s no way he misses the way you tremble and sigh, not with the way he smirks at you while walking away.

You’re not sure what’s going to kill you first. The Demons or your insatiable need for Sam fucking Winchester.

—————

Neither.

Neither of those things is gonna kill you first.

Because it’ll be your father that kills you.

Because you’re going to fucking murder your sister.

After the Winchesters brought back a murdered Dylan…well, things were tense. People started to resent them and the warm welcome they had initially received turned cold. Only you and Paul would speak to them without adding to the guilt you knew they already felt.

You knew it wasn’t their fault. Hell, half of you had been through it before - coming off a hunt all together too cocky and not aware of the demon that still lurked around until it was too late. Dylan was a good hunter. Dean and Sam were good hunters. It had happened to the best of you. And so you do what you always did - you held a funeral and vowed to be more vigilant next time.

But that wasn’t enough for the townspeople.

Or for your sister.

No, she had to go and suck the fun out of everything.

No drinking, no gambling, no pre-marital sex.

All per the angels’ command, of course.

“What a crock of shit.” The empty glass thunks against the wood of the bar - as hollow as you feel right about now. Paul only echoes your sentiments and pours you another glass. The only thing that pulls you from your ire is the bell signifying a newcomer. For the first time since Leah’s proclamation, your scowl softens as the person you wanted to see most walks right through that door.

“So, what happened to, uh,” he makes a grand gesture to the empty bar - earning a snort from the two of you, “’the apocalypse is good for business’?”

“Yeah, right up until Leah’s angel pals banned the good stuff.” Paul says, earning a groan from you as you pinch the bridge of your nose at your damn sister’s name. “Y/N’s here helping me kill some inventory.” Sam chuckles at the glass you raise, tipping it toward him and saying ‘I’m only doing the good work.’ “Want to help?”

With a drink in hand, Paul pours a shot for each of you. He doesn’t hold back on his opinion of the ‘holy rollers’ nor their hypocrisy, to which Sam calls him out for his noticeable lack of faith. Paul shrugs it off, defending his honorable lack of prayer.

“Look, there’s sure as hell demons. and maybe there is a god, I don’t know. Fine. But I’m not a hypocrite. I never prayed before and I ain’t starting now. If I go to Hell, I’m going honest. Besides,” Paul nods to you just as you put your shot glass - empty again - back on the bar. “I figure if this one can get away with it, so can I.” Sam’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes finding you.

“You either?”

“I grew up in the church,” you explain. “I’ve seen how the…holiest of us all can be far worse than the ‘hooligans’ of the world.” You wink at Paul, air quotes bouncing as you mimic your father’s ‘preacher’ voice. The two of you share a laugh and you miss how Sam’s fingers tighten around his glass along with his jaw at the intimacy you two seem to share. “Yeah, I believe in some kind of higher power.” You continue, focus shifting to the Adonis beside you. He doesn’t miss the bitter tone your voice takes on. “But I don’t believe in the church. The organized religion crap. Never been too big on it. But then, neither had Leah. And now, out of nowhere, she’s some chosen prophet?” You scoff. “I dunno. I just can’t trust it. And like Paul said, I’m no hypocrite. I know I’m messed up. Won’t pretend otherwise.”

This time when you regard Paul, patting his hand as one would a brother, Sam’s shoulders relax.

“Yeah, I, uh…I know what you mean.” A moment of heavy, thick silence passes between the two of you before you’re pressing him for his thoughts with nothing more than a look. “I believe.” But he doesn’t sound so sure. More convincing himself than he is you, maybe, so you stay quiet and let him work through his thoughts. “Yeah, I do.” He says, more assured this time. “I’m just pretty sure God stopped caring a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” A big sigh breaks from your chest, one of those sighs that comes when you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly this conversation is too heavy for how drunk you are not and for how drunk you want to be.

After a few moments, a morbid, hindsight joke blooms in your head and you can’t help but laugh, noting the questioning look on your drinking buddies’ faces.

“Guess those newlyweds knew something we didn’t.” You chuckle, taking a pull of your drink. “Tied the knot before Leah could restrict ‘em. Betcha they’re bangin’ like rabbits right about now.” The liquor burns, smothering your humorless chuckle as you knock it back. “Lucky bastards.”

Behind the bar Paul chuckles, noting the tension in the air, the sudden shift of mood, and takes his exit - mumbling something about grabbing more from the back. Neither you or Sam really hear him, though - too wrapped up in the other’s stare you share at what you’re implying.

Helluva wingman, that Paul.

Once the two of you are alone, Sam swivels in his chair until his long legs drape open and you have to force yourself not to look down. A bushy, perfectly masculine brow arches. Then he speaks - voice low and sweet and pure sin.

“Really? You, uh, don’t seem to have much issue with breaking the no-drinking rule.” And it isn’t a question. He flicks the back of his fingers against your glass, warm eyes staring right at you as the faint tinkling tickles your ears. Your heart shutters in time with the tinkling of skin on glass and you don’t realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip until his eyes flicker to it. “You gonna draw the line at pre-marital sex?”

“Now, Sam Winchester...who said I would do that?” The look you fix him with has him adjusting his suddenly too-tight pants.

“Not afraid of being damned? Of not being one of the ‘chosen’?”

“I’m no ‘chosen’.” You scoff, bouncing air quotes once more. “That’s my sister. Me? I’m just the poor little preacher’s kid who lost her faith a long time ago.” It isn’t seductive talk - in fact, it’s dark as hell. But he asked, and like you’d said before - you were no liar, and you were no hypocrite. You turn to your companion, renewed . “But you know…there is a curfew.”

The tonal shift isn’t subtle, but that doesn’t keep the space between you from growing ever smaller, Sam’s large hand sliding up your thigh and again you must fight off the urge to shiver. Especially when he lowers his voice once more, those big hazel eyes glancing at you from under his full, coal black lashes.

“Is that so?” A squeeze to your thigh, and you jolt just the tiniest bit, to Sam’s great amusement.

“My place is right around the corner.” You explain with a shrug, that damn lip caught between your teeth again. And suddenly in the dark, empty bar, you don’t care if you are damning yourself to hell. As long as it’s at the hands of Sam Winchester, you’ll go willingly.

—————

The wall of your entryway meets your back sharply, a hiss of pain escaping you momentarily before it’s silenced by Sam’s eager lips.

Hurried hands rid you of your clothes, his own falling like breadcrumbs alongside yours until the two of you are falling on to the bed. Fingers skilled at far more than knife-wielding ghost up your thighs, featherlight touches leaving a fire under your skin. He’s slow in his undoing of you. Reverent even. Watches the way you keen beneath him, begging for his fingers. Holds your eyes as he drags those fingers through his lips before trailing the wet tips down your front. When he finally gives them to you, one long digit sliding right up to the knuckle, your teeth break the skin of your lip just enough to hurt and you’re gasping - begging for more - which he gives to you, gladly. Working you until you’re ready for him and at the precipice of falling over the edge.

He had looked good in his clothes, sure, but god damn he’s ten times more beautiful out of them. Infinite smooth, golden skin lays beneath your greedy fingers, a dusting of fine hair contouring the plane of his chest and down below his waistband. Your mouth waters and you tug impatiently at his jeans.

“Someone’s eager.” He chuckles, low and husky, standing to drop both pants and boxers. Oh. Good God.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You only break your eyes away to grab a condom before you shove him on his back and straddle those strong thighs. "I've been wanting to get your clothes off since the second I laid eyes on you."

"Trust me," he breathes - no, borderline growls - and you shutter, walls fluttering at how fucking empty you are and just how fucking bad you need him inside of you right now. "The feeling's mutual."

He’s big all over, just like you expected, and even rolling the latex over his thick shaft has you shivering in anticipation. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the gigantic man beneath you and before you can react, he’s rolling his hips with a moan that takes your breath away. It takes immense focus to speak through your gasp.

“Don’t finish this before it’s even started, Winchester.” He laughs at your warning, fingers digging into your thighs and ass. Oh, this man is going to wreck you, you just know it.

“You have so little faith in me?” A quip lies on your tongue, something about having no faith at all, but that melts into a strangled moan the second his fat head presses past your opening. “Oh, Christ.” He hisses, teeth clenched and head thrown back in unadulterated pleasure at the feel of you, your hips rolling slowly as you try your best to take the overwhelming size of him. Your fingers digging into supple pecs does nothing to ebb the overwhelming feeling of Sam spearing you open.

“Leave him outta this.” You quip, sinking down the rest of the way - finally. You both shiver at the feeling of him fully seated in you before you start rocking against him.

Not much else is said - not much else needed to be said - as the two of you chase relief and distraction in each other.

The stretch burns in the best way and you realize you're going to be feeling this for days. Every step, every shift is going to take you right back here - your hands splayed out on sculpted pecs, Sam's angelic and angular face contorted in ecstasy as he does his best to keep his eyes open and watch you ride him for everything he's worth. Those big hazel eyes blink up at you, fluttering and rolling at a particularly deep stroke before they're suddenly open - fiery and determined. There's no time to even tease or question before he's pistoning up into you, his marble body rubbing yours in such a way that has you gasping for air, his massive hands splayed over your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you. Sloppy thrusts turn to rocking hips and the new angle has your toes curling.

His cock grazes just the right spot with every rock of his hips, both of you whispering moans and groans of the other’s name. You do your best to keep up, rolling your tired hips when you can, nails biting into his skin when you have to focus solely on not imploding right where you are.

Your orgasm crests, and you beg him to go faster - to take control - and he does, practically throwing you onto your back to angle you the exact way he wants to. The height difference is dizzying - even with you on your back and him on his haunches - all you can see while he hammers into you is the brand on his chest. You itch to bite into the ink, to make him mewl against your skin once more but all rational thought flies out the window when his thumb reaches between your splayed legs, presses in tight, dizzying circles, and sends you spiraling into oblivion as aftershock after aftershock rocks your nerves.

In the aftermath of it all - after you’ve seen white from the intense pleasure he milked out of you - you lie in a daze. Memorizing the way his hands feel as he wipes some of his spend off your chest. Jesus, the sounds that man had made when he came...you have half a mind to tie him down and never let him leave - your sister's 'orders' be damned.

“It’s past curfew, y'know?” You remind him, fingers tracing the divots and curves of his abdomen. God, he’s perfect. You could spend hours memorizing every inch of skin. Pity said skin disappears behind thick flannel once more. You bite back a disappointed groan, casting your eyes over his massive stature. You don't think you'll ever get over just how small he makes you feel - in the best possible way, of course. Especially when he flashes that perfect fucking smile at you, dimples and all.

“Yeah? What about it?” He urges, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips as he dares you to ask him to stay. You sit up on your knees then, leveling yourself with his chest and drag your fingers down once more. "Something you want to say, Y/N?" If possible, his grin grows wider when you crook an eyebrow at him, beckoning him to your level with a come hither finger to match.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask you to stay, Sam Winchester," you whisper, lips ghosting over his own and you take great pride in the way his sinfully long lashes flutter against the tops of his sharp cheeks. "You can keep waiting.” The low groan that escapes his throat when you cup him once more makes you ache in the absolute best way. You're seconds away from throwing your pride to the wind and pulling him back into bed with you. But this is the end of the world after all. No doubt he has other pressing matters to attend to.

“Yeah, well, as much as I would love to…I should get back before Dean gets worried.” Disappointment laces his words, but you’re both too grown-up for any fairytale crap. Your life felt like more a horror lately than a fantasy, anyway. So, with incredibly gentle fingers, he pulls your hand toward his lips, grazing them over your knuckles as his eyes bore into yours. Hmm, he plays dirty.

“Yeah…my dad’s probably expecting me at the church.” You offer lamely, though there's probably some truth to it. Not one night goes by without a demon attack or a vision from the chosen sister. You're surprised you haven't been interrupted by a frantic call from your father already, as a matter a fact. He smiles at you again, your heart running rampant as he's tossing the towel down to wrap his arms around your waist once more. The look in his eyes and the hardness pressing into your belly are tempting enough, but you manage to grit out a warning "Sam..."

“And here you are, sinning with the outsider.” He rumbles, smirking as his eyes drink in your face for - most likely - the last time. You return his smile, reeling him in for one last kiss...or twelve.

“Yeah, well, if I’m going to hell anyway, may as well make the road there fun.”

If only you knew the literal hell that awaited you in the next few hours…

FIN

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imagineteamfreewill · 1 year

Text

Crowned

Title: Crowned

Pairing: Prince!Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Whipping, brief language, slight angst, mostly fluff

Square Filled: Secret Relationship

Summary: Y/N is a castle kitchen maid in Lawrence, where Prince Samuel is scheduled to ascend to the throne on Christmas Eve. The extra work takes a heavy toll on her, but there’s something—or someone—else making it an even more eventful season for her.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo). As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and supporting me in so many ways. I hope everyone has a safe, happy, and healthy holiday season with their loved ones! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The village always bustled with activity as you neared the winter solstice, but this year even more so. The prince’s coronation was scheduled for Christmas Eve, which meant in addition to the usual preparations, everyone was getting ready for what was promised to be the grandest event the castle had ever had. Even you were mildly excited for what was to come, and normally you hated your job in the kitchens.

“Y/N! Where did you put those eggs, girl?”

You sighed as you kneaded the dough on the table in front of you. The head baker had given you the task of making the braided loaves for the castle’s coronation feast. They were one of the traditional dishes that the prince had requested, so they had to be perfect. You’d been mixing, kneading, braiding, and baking from sunup to sundown most days, and when you weren’t working by the ovens, you were out gathering more supplies. She’d sent you to get eggs from Farmer Mills that morning and for milk from Farmer Singer the morning prior. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you worked, it never seemed to be enough. It felt like she’d been harping on you and critiquing your baking every second of every day. You were deciding between throwing something at her or crying. Maybe both.

“They’re with the butter, ma’am,” you called back, holding in the retort you wanted to tack onto the end. Her shrill voice was like a knife and you’d been on the verge of a blinding headache for three hours now. It wouldn’t be long before you’d need to beg her to send you home to rest. She probably wouldn’t agree.

“Are you daft? Come here!”

You winced, pausing mid-knead. That wasn’t a good sign. Slowly, you wiped your hands on the apron tied over your shift and made your way around the other long table. The head baker was in the back room, and as you passed by the other kitchen girls, they all gave you pitying looks of various degrees. You were the newest in the castle, having just started a few months ago after seeking refuge from a neighboring kingdom, which meant you got the brunt of all her anger and stress. Unfortunately for you, her anger and stress were at an all-time high given the upcoming feasts.

“Ma’am?” you asked, standing in the doorway to the makeshift storeroom.

“Come here,” she ordered, and you obediently stepped closer. “Where are the eggs?”

Turning towards where you’d set down the basket, you said, “They are—” You stopped mid-sentence. The basket had disappeared, as had the eggs. “They were there, Ma’am, I promise you. I put them next to the butter as soon as I got back.”

“Well, they’re not there now, wench, so what will you do now?”

You swallowed thickly, tears welling in your eyes. You’d be punished for this. “I’ll go to Farmer Mills’ straightway and fetch more, ma’am.”

“That’ll be comin’ out of your pay. Give me your hand.”

The head baker reached for her whip and struck it across your knuckles as soon as you’d extended your arm. Knowing better than to cry out, you bit down on your tongue and squeezed your eyes shut right as the whip lashed across the back of your hand again. Your skin felt warm where the blood welled up.

Three more lashes and you were free. You darted out of the storeroom and grabbed your cloak from the peg on the wall, wrapping it around your shoulders as quickly as you could. One of the other kitchen girls, Anna, was waiting for you by the door. She wrapped a clean cloth around your hand without a word, then slipped a few coins into the pocket of your apron. When you opened your mouth to protest, she shook her head and gently nudged you out of the kitchen and into the bitter cold.

You took the shortest route from the castle to the farm on the edge of the castle village. Jody’s family had farmed the land for decades. The land had been in her husband’s family since he was a young boy, and you’d become friends with her shortly after they’d married. She was kind and she always made sure you had the best. You hoped now that your friendship would help you procure the eggs you needed during the busiest time of year.

The streets were fairly empty for noontime, but you stuck to the edges of the paths, leaving room for the tradesmen and their wives, the knights, and the ladies that milled about, looking for someone upon which to bestow their Christmas generosity. Boughs of holly decorated the windows and their sills, and the red berries stuck amongst them added festive cheer to the otherwise dreary winter. Candles were already burning in the windows in an attempt to ward off the gray-tinged darkness that threatened each precious minute of daylight until the solstice. The coming winter promised to be a harsh one, but the hope of the evergreens loosened the tight knot of fear in your chest. Christmas was coming, and with it there would be rest and time for celebrations of your own. You’d never attended a servant’s dinner, and Sam would be a king. You knew that to be intimately true, more so than most, especially in the depths of the kitchens.

“My lady?”

A hand on your arm made you turn, and you almost stumbled when you met familiar eyes.

“Samuel,” you murmured, immediately smiling wide. Your cheeks felt warm even despite the cold and you glanced around, hoping no one would notice you talking to him.

He was dressed plainly, in a gray wool cloak drawn up over his head and tied securely around his shoulders, a long brown tunic that you were certain you’d seen before in the squire’s closet, and a pair of leather boots. Sam looked every part a common man, and your heart swelled with giddiness.

“What are you doing here? Someone could see you!” you whispered, though you couldn’t stop smiling. You pulled him under the eaves of a cobbler’s shop, out of the snow and away from prying eyes. The cobbler was deaf, and after you acknowledged him with a polite wave, he went back to his work.

“I was tending to my horse when I saw you leave. I have something for you,” Sam replied. He smiled down at you, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. A thrill went through you when his hands brushed yours as he placed a parchment-wrapped bundle into your hands. He didn’t seem to notice your bandage, nor did he see the blood that had soaked through it.

“I don’t have anything for you.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Open it.”

Hesitant, you began to carefully unwrap the brown parchment. It fell to the ground and was instantly soaked with snow, but you could only gasp and marvel at the fabric in your hands. The dress shimmered in the winter sun, sparkling as the weak light hit it. You’d never seen something so beautiful, and you’d certainly never owned anything like it. The fabric felt lighter than air and as you ran your fingers over it, you held your breath, just in case you might blow it away. Certainly, none of the other kitchen maids or servant girls owned something like this. Not even the finest lady in all of Lawrence owned a dress as beautiful. You weren’t even sure if the royals in your home country had even seen something so fine.

“Samuel,” you finally murmured, and you regarded him with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can, my love.”

His words warmed you from the inside out and you ducked your head, hiding the bashful smile he always pulled from you. “I have no place to wear a dress like this, and Ma’am will surely find out…”

“Come to my coronation.”

Your head snapped up and the smile fell at the seriousness of his request. “What?”

“Come to my coronation,” he repeated. Sam reached out and brushed hair behind your ear. His touch was warm, a welcome relief from the winter chill, but you were too shocked to register it.

“I can’t,” you told him. “It’s not proper for a kitchen maid to attend a royal event of any kind. It’s forbidden. If I did, Ma’am would—”

“It’s my coronation. Nothing is forbidden if I say it isn’t, and I want you there.”

You looked away and stared at the feet of the horses as several knights rode by. Their hooves kicked up dirty slush and pebbles, spewing them over your shoes and Sam’s boots. Sam looked the opposite way, subtly using the hood of his cloak to shield his face from the men. After they’d gone, you didn’t turn towards him again, but you could feel Sam staring at you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the cheerful calls of men and women loitering in the street. “And once I am king, we can be together. There will be no law to stop us.”

“But there is a law now, and I’m bound to keep it, as are you,” you replied. You pushed the dress into his grasp and stepped just out of his reach, drawing your own cloak closer around you. The wind ruffled your shift and apron and Sam’s hair fluttered in front of his face as he stared down at you with hurt in his eyes.

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

“Of course I do, my King.” You bowed your head slightly, silently willing away the lump in your throat.

“Y/N—”

You stepped back again, almost tripping over a pile of firewood. Sidestepping, you lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I must go.”

His flickered to your bandaged hand when you reached up to adjust your hood once more, and your breath caught in your throat when he blocked your path and tenderly grasped your wrist with one hand.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. You kept your eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t see the lie in them, but he hooked a finger underneath your chin and gently guided you to look upward.

“It’s not nothing to me. You’re hurt.”

Your lower lip trembled as you held his gaze, until finally he dropped his hand and you could avert your eyes again. “I cut myself while I was helping cut vegetables. It was a clumsy mistake.”

Sam stood for a moment before he said, “You work in the bakery. Do not think so little of me that I do not know your trade. Tell me the truth, Y/N.”

“Is that an order?”

Even without looking, you felt him tense beside you.

“It’s a request,” he quietly answered. “Tell me the truth, my love.”

His words cut deep into your heart, expertly carving out the softest parts of you and extracting them from the walls you’d built. Sam knew how to get past your every defense in just a moment’s time, and a tear rolled down your cheek as you stared down at the muddy, snow-mottled ground.

“The eggs I fetched for Ma’am this morning went missing. She believed it to be my fault, and I was punished.”

“Punished?” Sam repeated, and you slowly nodded. “Show me, I beg of you,” he added.

You knew that he was no stranger to blood or injury, but the shame you felt while unwrapping your hand was like salt in your wounds. Sam would never understand what your life was like, not now in the kitchens and certainly not before you’d escaped your homeland to come to Lawrence. Accepting punishments you didn’t deserve came easily to you, and the scar that would form across the back of your hand would only be one of many that littered your skin.

Sam took your hand in his once the bandage was removed. He held it gingerly, cradled between his own gentle palms, as he inspected the lashes. They were precise and though the blood had crusted over and dirtied your skin, you knew that underneath the mess, the four lashes stood like tallies across your knuckles and hand. Four identical scars would form, a constant reminder to you and others of your supposed blunder. You’d be forever marked by your inabilities.

“You should see a doctor” Sam finally said, and you pulled your hand away.

“I’ll heal fine enough on my own,” you argued. Before he could say anything more, you wrapped the bandage back around your hand and tucked it underneath your cloak, out of sight. “I truly must go now. If I don’t return with the eggs…”

“Let me walk with you,” he insisted.

You shook your head, but Sam stepped closer, crowding your personal space. “Please, I beg of you. I’ll leave you before we near the castle upon your return. I just wish to be with you before…”

His next words went unspoken, but you heard them loud and clear.

Before I’m crowned King.

Before everything changes.

Before I’m forced to marry for the good of the kingdom.

Before you fade away from my memory.

Swallowing thickly, you looked back down at the ground and nodded. “Very well.”

Sam held out his arm. It took you a few seconds to stir up the nerve to take it, and then he was leading you toward the outskirts of the village before you could think twice. He walked in silence beside you, carefully veering you around large puddles and holes in the ground. He positioned himself between you and the busy village paths and took the brunt of the slush and mud splashing when horses rode by and when children pushed carts full of root vegetables, evergreen boughs, and firewood toward their families’ stalls. The two of you remained quiet even as you walked, and you thought it strange that Sam didn’t ask for directions to Jody’s farm, nor did he even ask the farm to which you were heading. He simply steered you along in silence.

When you finally arrived at the Mills’ farm, you removed your arm from his and gathered your skirts in one hand so you could navigate their crowded land with more ease. Chickens roamed freely in their appointed yard, as did the goats in theirs, but you knew that their son and one of the village boys wouldn’t be far off. They took good care of the animals. A loss of any could surely devastate them all.

Smoke blew from the chimney as you neared their small hut. As soon as you were within a few feet, the door swung open and Jody met your gaze, her own eyes filled with concern. You never visited midday.

“Y/N?” she asked. Once you were near enough, she ushered you inside to the waiting warmth. You immediately took your normal seat at her table, but you glanced back over your shoulder when she wasn’t there to join you. Instead, Jody stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide and her body tense with indecision.

“He’s a friend,” you told her, but she only continued to stare.

Jody suddenly dipped into a low curtsy, her head bowed until she could only stare at the floor. “Your Highness,” she frantically murmured. “I apologize, I did not recognize you from afar.��

From where he stood just outside the door, Sam met your eyes through the open doorway. His hood had fallen, revealing his face, and snowflakes clung to his hair. His skin was pink with cold as he gave you a sad smile, then knelt slightly to help Jody rise.

“Please,” he said, his voice soft. “I am only here to accompany Y/N.”

Silently, Jody looked between you and Sam, and you felt warmth rush to your face, though not from the heat of the fire burning in her hearth.

“Of course, please come in, Your Highness.” Jody stepped out of Sam’s way and gestured for him to sit across from you at the table. She shut the door tightly behind him, then bustled around her small home. You watched for a moment as she retrieved a second wooden cup and began to pour tea. It had been ready to drink already, and guilt as heavy as lead sank to the bottom of your stomach. Jody and her family had little as it was, and now they’d waste their precious tea on you.

Sam took the empty chair and his legs immediately crowded yours under the table. He murmured an apology, then looked around the room. Two beds had been pushed against the wall to make room for the table and chairs. A roll of blankets was tucked atop one of the hay-stuffed mattresses, and several sets of clothing hung on hooks above the second.

“I apologize for the state of my home, Your Highness,” Jody said as she carried over two cups, then placed one in front of each of you. “We make do with what we have.”

He shook his head. “You may call me Samuel. I’m nobody important here.”

Her eyes grew wide and she glanced at you, but you focused on preparing your cup of tea with the small bowl of sugar she’d somehow produced. You knew with every minute that passed you’d get in deeper trouble with the head baker. Still, you couldn’t sabotage Jody’s time with Sam with your own troubles. It was very likely she’d never see him again, just as it was likely you’d never spend this much time with him again after today.

“But Your Highness, you are always—”

“Please,” Sam insisted. “I’m only accompanying Y/N today. I needed to get away from the coronation preparations, and she agreed to show me around the village.”

Of course, you hadn’t agreed to that. You’d barely agreed to anything, and the reminder of the upcoming coronation made tears well up in your eyes.

You inhaled deeply, straightening up in your seat and willing them away. You had to focus on the task at hand. Both Sam and Jody looked over at you as you downed your tea and winced as it scalded your tongue and throat.

“I need more eggs, Jody,” you told her. “The ones I bought from you this morning have disappeared. If I do not return with more…”

You trailed off, but Jody knew what you meant. She’d managed to get you talking one day and you’d spilled the horror stories of the head baker and the punishments you and the other kitchen girls had received. She’d also heard all about the horrors of your previous home. You’d shown her the scars that came with those stories, too. The only thing she didn’t know about you was how closely you held Sam to your heart, but that was a secret you could never betray.

Sam didn’t say anything as Jody quietly excused herself to search their chicken yard for more eggs. You obeyed, sitting completely still with your empty cup cradled between your hands. The bandage kept rubbing against the healing lashes every time you moved. You tried to shift it away from them as subtly as possible, but Sam was watching you like a hawk.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

Sighing, you turned your head to look at the flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. “Samuel…”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable, Y/N. Why will you not let me help you?”

You looked down at the cup in your hands, fidgeting with the cracked handle. It clacked against the wooden table as you carefully placed it at the edge of the table. The cups were the finest in Jody’s collection, and your stomach twisted at the thought that she might think differently of you now that she’d seen you with Sam. Would she tell the other women in the village? Or her husband? What if her son had seen you, or the other shepherd boy? If someone found out that you’d been consorting with the prince unchaperoned, you’d be done for.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can’t get accustomed to your help. Soon enough you will be the king and I…”

“You will be my queen,” Sam fervently replied.

Shaking your head, you rose from your seat. The door swung open before Sam could speak up or join you.

“I believe this will be enough,” Jody said. The basket in her hand was only half full of eggs, but your chest swelled with relief and gratitude nonetheless.

“It will have to make do,” you told her as you dug the coins from the pocket of your apron. “Will this be enough?”

Sam stood and you glanced over at him. His expression was unreadable, but then he nodded slightly, and you quickly looked back at Jody. It only took you a moment to realize that he’d been negotiating on your behalf.

You gripped his arm, digging your nails in until he looked over at you. He kept his expression neutral even as he turned his back on Jody to shield you from her curious eyes.

“You can’t,” you hissed at him. “They’ll ask why you’re paying her money. They’ll find out about us.”

His head shake was small, but not unnoticeable. “Dean won’t tell.”

If Dean knew, then there was no doubt in your mind that Sam had told others about your trysts, and your stomach twisted at the thought. You stepped away, staring at him for a moment longer, then turned and took the basket from Jody, who still stood by the door.

“Thank you, Jody. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you stepped back out into the cold midday air and started making your way back toward the castle. If anyone had stopped to ask you, you would’ve told them the tears in your eyes were from the cold.

The head baker’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and you hadn’t even made it to the actual feast yet. She’d ordered you and the rest of the kitchen girls to be working three hours earlier than normal, long before the sun even rose on Christmas Eve, and the upstairs servants had told you that the guests were talking about a feast that stretched long into the night. According to Lady Charlie’s handmaiden, most of the visiting royals planned to celebrate until the priests came for the midnight blessing. After that, there would be Christmas feasts tomorrow morning, afternoon, and evening, allowing everyone to celebrate. The leftovers would be taken to the villagers, and then there was the servant’s dinner to prepare for. You were exhausted. Between the extra work in the kitchens and the mental and emotional strain of avoiding Sam at any and all costs, you’d barely had time to catch your breath, let alone sleep or eat.

“Y/N, are you well?”

You glanced over and forced a small smile in Anna’s direction, though you never truly met her eyes. Your brain and hands were focused on the lump of dough sat on the table in front of you. Ever since leaving him at the Mills’ farm, you’d thought of little else besides how Sam could approach you next. He’d always teased you about getting bold and visiting you in the kitchens while you were working, but the very thought of that struck fear into your bones. If the head baker, or anyone, really, discovered your relationship with him, you’d be hung.

“You look pale, and tired. Maybe you should rest.”

You shook your head and tried to muster a little bit more life into your tired body. “I’m fine, Anna. Truly.”

When you looked up at her, she was turned toward you but her gaze was focused on the doorway leading to the castle courtyard. All day long, pages and servants from the neighboring kingdoms had been arriving to serve their own dignitaries, so when you turned to see what she was looking at, you’d expected an exhausted young boy or girl, looking lost and very, very hungry. What you hadn’t expected was Sam.

Sam, dressed in navy velvet, a gold circlet atop his head, and a gold chain resting on his chest. Sam, with shining black boots and his sword tucked neatly against his hip. Sam, with his hair shining in the light from the candles and his eyes focused solely on you.

“Y/N,” he began, and you swallowed thickly, your fingers digging into the dough in front of you. Your legs trembled and you had to lean against the table for support. He stepped through the doorway, ducking down to avoid knocking his head, and slowly approached the table where you and Anna worked.

“I cannot do this without you by my side. It would be wrong for the woman I love to be absent from this part of my life. I beseech thee, with every part of myself, to join me.”

He held out his hand as he stopped a few feet from the table. You couldn’t tear your eyes away and you licked your lips, trying to come up with a suitable response. When notching came, all you could do was gape at him and shake your head.

“Sam, I— I cannot be with you.”

“Yes, you can,” he gently argued. “You will not be punished. You are committing no wrong.”

You closed your mouth and quickly shook your head, glancing over at Anna as you continued to grip the table through the bread dough. It would no doubt have to be thrown out after your mistreatment. No good loaves could come of it now, just as no good would come to you after Sam departed. You were utterly and truly ruined.

“And what’s this? Why aren’t you— Your Highness!”

Whirling around, you stared in shock as the head baker collapsed into a low curtsy. It only took a second before Anna had collected herself enough to do the same. Only you and Sam remained standing, but he was still focused solely on you.

“I cannot,” you croaked, shaking your head. You tried again, more urgently this time. “You need to go, Your Highness. Please.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes flickered down to the scars on your hand. The head baker would surely whip you again for this. When you noticed Sam looking down as well, you hurried to tug the sleeve of your dress down to cover them, but it was too late. His eyes caught the movement and his eyes darkened slightly at the scars, then even further when he saw the whip coiled on its wall hook behind you. Ma’am had left it there as a reminder of what would happen if you or the other workers slacked on your tasks for the coronation or the Christmas feasts.

Sam dropped his hand back down to his side and his other came to rest on the hilt of his sword. He walked around the table, approaching the head backer, who still lay prone on the dirty kitchen floor.

“Are you the mistress here?” he asked. His voice had changed and you shuddered at the formality of it. With you, Sam spoke softly, gently, and with all the earnestness he could muster. Now, his words dripped with displeasure.

Silently, Anna rose and helped you over to sit on a nearby barrel of brined fish. It hadn’t quite made it to the storehouses before everyone grew busy. The smell of the fish was overpowering and it had been all day, but you barely made it to the barrel before you stumbled over your own feet. Sitting in the stink would have to do.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ma’am whimpered.

You closed your eyes, holding your breath even as your lungs burned. You couldn’t bear to watch Sam fulfill the part of his job you knew he hated. Yes, people far and wide respected him for his level head and for being a fair and just ruler in his father’s stead, but he was also Lawrence’s judge, jury, and, when absolutely necessary, executioner.

“Then I command you to treat your workers with the grace they deserve in my kingdom. This will be your one and only warning.” Sam paused. “My father would not be so kind. You are lucky that I will hold this discovery close. I will be watching you well.”

Ma’am whimpered again, her words unintelligible as Sam backed away and scanned the room for you. Once he found you sitting beside Anna, who’d stood tensely by your side throughout the whole exchange, his face softened.

“What must I do to convince you?” he asked.

You looked down at your hands, ignoring when Anna’s grip on your arm tightened at the sound of Sam’s voice directed toward you.

“Samuel… I’m but a servant. What we had needs to end now that you are becoming king. You must marry for the good of the kingdom, even if it is not what you desire.”

“You sound like my father,” he replied, a hint of humor in his voice.

His footsteps were soft as he crossed the room, stepping over the baker. His sword bumped against the leg of the table when he stopped a few feet away from you and Anna.

“May he rest in peace. He was a wise king, and you will be too,” you added.

“I will be even better with you by my side, Y/N. I love you, and I always will. You cannot ask me to try and give my heart to another, not when it will always be with you.”

Tears made your vision blurry until you finally looked up at him. His expression was pained as he waited for you to reply. When Anna gripped your arm even tighter, unable to stand the silence any longer, you shook your head.

“And what of your people? They will speak ill of me. Will you be able to handle that?”

“No one will—”

“They will,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile. You sniffled and patted Anna’s hand to signal her that she could let go. When she did, you carefully stood from the barrel, but you didn’t move away from it. “They will, my love, and you cannot punish them for it. They will be jealous and confused and angry that you chose someone so unworthy of your love, but fighting against their venom will only make it worse.”

Sam fell silent as he searched your face. Finally, he answered, “Are you accepting me, then? Will you stand beside me today, and every day after?”

After a moment, you nodded and offered him a small smile. “Yes, Samuel.”

Beside you, Anna laughed in pure relief, and you glanced over at her. She tried to muffle it, but you began to laugh as well. Sam surged forward and took your hand in his, making you look back at him. He dipped low to press a kiss to the back of your uninjured hand.

“I believe there is even a dress waiting for you, my lady,” he said.

You laughed a little more then, and when Sam took your hand to lead you out of the kitchens and up into the castle, you didn’t resist. Instead, you turned to wave at Anna. When she called after you in hopes that you’d come visit her in the days to come, you nodded fervently. You’d never forget the friend she’d been to you since arriving in Lawrence, and you’d repay her kindness tenfold.

Sam led you up to the main hall of the castle, where his older brother stood waiting in similar clothes. His robes were a deep red and the circlet on his head was also gold. The sash across his chest bore the Winchester crest, and the polished hilt of his sword gleamed bright in the winter sun streaming through the windows.

“You work in the kitchens?” he asked once you and Sam had fully emerged from the staircase.

Tentatively, you nodded and glanced over at Sam, who’d positioned himself between you and the hall, shielding you from prying eyes. A tall evergreen decorated with candles and red berries stood proudly behind Dean.

“Yes, sire,” you replied, dipping into a slight curtsy. While you were certain that he’d disregard your show of respect given Sam’s affection for you, Dean was still captain of the King’s guard and that title alone was enough to make you tremble. He held more power than most people knew.

Dean scoffed and reached out to take your other hand. He bowed and kissed over the scars. His touch was gentle and you felt your face grow warm. Being kissed by one Winchester brother was enough to make your heart race, but two? You were practically floating, and Sam chuckled knowingly when he caught your somewhat dazed expression.

“Come, my love. Dean will be the one to escort you down the aisle for the ceremony,” Sam murmured.

You blinked and looked up at him, at a loss for words. Being left to your own devices in the upper parts of the castle was a terrifying prospect, especially since Sam was the one who’d escorted you up. If you were caught without him… You’d heard horror stories of servants who’d assumed too much of themselves. You shuddered.

“You will be perfectly safe,” he reassured you. He squeezed your hand and nodded encouragingly, but your stomach still churned with nerves.

When you glanced over at Dean, he nodded as well. “You have my word that I will not leave you, Y/N. I am sworn to my brother’s protection, and therefore I am sworn to yours,” he said.

Slowly, you forced yourself to exhale and nod in agreement. “Very well.”

“I will see you soon, Y/N,” Sam said. He dipped down and pressed a kiss to your cheek this time. The flour that clung to your skin didn’t seem to bother him, and underneath the white dust your cheeks grew warm for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived to pull you from the depths of the kitchens. Sam always seemed to be able to turn you into a lovesick young girl, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sam backed away. You watched in silence as he turned, then strode down the hallway with such purpose that the path in front of him cleared immediately. Most of the crowds you had seen entering the castle for hours were nowhere in sight, but no one in the hall stopped to bow as he passed, as they had for King John. You wondered if he’d requested such behavior or if things would change once he was crowned. Since you’d begun meeting in secret months ago, Sam had never struck you as the kind of person who demanded a person’s respect. He always earned it in his own subtle way, just as he had earned your affections. He’d snuck past all your defenses in less time than it took you to escape from your home country.

Once he’d disappeared from view, Dean lifted his arm for you to hold. You gratefully accepted and let him guide you in the direction of the masses.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you entered the main part of the grand hallway.

“To the coronation,” Dean replied. He steered you around a group of knights who had gathered along the edge of the hall.

You stumbled and gripped his arm even tighter as ice cold panic flooded your veins. “The coronation? Now? I thought it not for a few hours!”

With his other hand, Dean steadied you. He slowed his pace for a few steps, then stopped when you planted your feet in the plus golden rug, refusing to move.

“Yes,” he answered, “the coronation. Where did you think we were going?”

“I— I did not know, but I am not— I cannot go to the coronation!” you hissed at him. You glanced down at your shift and the thin leather shoes you’d been wearing for years now.

“That’s horse shit. Of course you can go. Sam’s requested your presence, Y/N. You won’t be turned—”

“Maybe not,” you argued, “but I won’t truly belong.” You pulled your arm from his. “I’m dirty. I smell like yeast and fish. I don’t know the proper way to act or the proper things to say. I can’t dance. I don’t belong here, Dean, and one man’s love cannot change that.”

He watches you for a moment before his expression softens. “I believe that is why he cares for you, Y/N.”

You stared at him, confused. In your head, there’d been lists of reasons for Sam to turn you away. There’d been an even longer set of ways that the people of Lawrence could dismiss you from the coronation, each one more humiliating than the last. How could he love your faults?

Dean gently guided you to take his arm again, then began walking toward the cathedral at the far end of the castle. “You are not of royal blood, and you were once a stranger to Lawrence, but you’re intelligent. You’re quick, and you make him happy. Not a day has gone by that he hasn’t spoken of you, and he’s mentioned no less than a thousand times how beautiful you are.”

“Truly?” you asked, and he chuckled. When you glanced over, Dean stared straight ahead, but he smiled.

“Truly.”

You stopped before a set of doors that stretched high above your head, ending in a point only inches from the lofted ceiling. The wood shined in the candlelight and you shivered as guards on either side pulled them open for you and Dean. A gust of wind blew through the cathedral, making the candle flames on the golden stands all around you dance and flicker. Rows of dignitaries inside turned at the sound of the giant doors creaking open and every bit of giddiness from Dean’s commentary drained out of your body.

“You swear that this is what Sam wants? That this isn’t a trick?” you asked, looking up at him.

Dean regarded you with a soft smile. “I swear, Y/N. I gave my word that I would protect you, did I not?”

Hesitantly, you nodded. “This is true, but—”

“Then you are safe with me. I’m the captain, and they will obey me”

You took a deep breath, then nodded again. “Very well. I’m ready.”

He dipped his head and forced his expression into a neutral one before stepping forward. You kept your eyes focused on the grand altar at the front of the cathedral as Dean led you down the center aisle. The ladies and lords on either side of you gasped and whispered as you passed. It took every fiber of your being not to turn and run the other direction, and by the time you’d reached the steps that led to the altar, you were trembling.

“You are safe,” Dean whispered. He leaned in close to you so that only you could hear. “They cannot harm you, nor will I let them try.” When you shakily exhaled and nodded in understanding, he continued, “Sam will arrive soon. After he is crowned king, you will take his arm instead of mine.”

Confused, you looked up at him just as the fanfare began. “What then?” you asked.

The twinkle in his eye made your stomach flip. “And then you will join us at the feast. Sam can have new clothes brought for you, if you would like, and you will celebrate with us. I believe he had a gown made for you especially. Did he not?”

Before you could answer, Dean straightened and lifted his fist to place it over his heart, just like the other knights did as Sam entered, but his other arm stayed in place to hold you steady. You clutched it tightly as the music continued and Sam processed down the center aisle of the cathedral. Long strands of evergreen garland marked his way. You marveled at his steadiness amid the grand procession. Children selected from the village and from royal families assisted with his robes and men in heavily decorated robes of their own carried tall, pure white candles and shining gold artifacts ahead of him.

Sam looked every bit the king you knew him to be. In the time since he’d left you in the care of his brother, Sam had donned a red sash embellished with the Winchester crest. A long navy robe trailed behind him, trimmed with white and composed of the richest velvet and fur you’d ever seen. His expression was grave and steady, though you knew his nerves hid deep down inside of him. Sam had told you how scared he was to be king. He didn’t want to let down his people or harm them in any way, but you had faith in him. All of Lawrence did, too. If they didn’t, his father wouldn’t have allowed him to be crowned king until it was absolutely necessary. Instead, John had made way for his son to take the throne at a much younger age than he had. In his last breaths, John had ordered for there to be no royal advisors or interim leaders in between his death and Sam’s ascension. It was only to be Sam leading the people, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

The ceremony passed quicker than you’d expected, and soon Dean was leading you across the dais to where Sam stood, newly crowned. He looked out over the visiting lords and ladies with the same serious expression as before, but when he turned to look at you, the sun shone through the stained glass in the massive basilica. You couldn’t help but smile back as he took your hand in his, bowed, and kissed the back of it. The gasps from the gathered crowd were but background noise as Sam lifted his head just enough to catch your eyes from below.

“My King,” you greeted. Your cheeks ached from the intensity of your own smile, but you couldn’t stop. The sun shone down upon you, casting colored shapes across Sam’s face and the robes that swirled around his feet like dark ocean waves.

“My heart,” he answered.

Thank you for reading! <3

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saxxxology · 2 years

Text

Empty | oneshot

Bobby calls Dean to help you on your case. Unfortunately, Sam shows up instead.

PAIRING: Soulless!Sam Winchester x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,246

WARNINGS: fear/intimidation, smut, spanking, rough sex, squirting, blowjob, cum swallowing… Sam’s a just dirty asshole

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It’s been a long day. Your case, much to your annoyance, isn’t something you can handle alone, and you hate the idea of having to ask for help. Fortunately, your dad’s always there to help you out.

He answers on the fourth ring.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You smile at the familiar gruff tone. “Hi, dad.”

“How’s that case of yours goin’?”

“Yeah… about that…” you sigh heavily and plop down on your bed, “I need some help. Turns out it’s a werewolf pack, and I can’t take it down on my own.”

“Nothin’ wrong with help,” Bobby replies, “I’ll call in Dean, last I heard he was in Lincoln, Nebraska, but he can speed on over.”

A shiver goes down your spine at the mention of the Winchesters. Dean’s a good friend and even better hunter, but Sam’s changed a bit too much since the first time you’d met him. You’d been sixteen when the boys had first come around, and Sam had quickly become a good friend.

Since he’s come back from Hell, however, you’ve had more than one run-in with him, twice before Dean figured out he was alive, and once after, during a hunt you’d teamed up with them on. He scares the shit out of you, but there’s a thrill in the fear, some dreadful spark of arousal that flickers in your belly when you catch him staring at your ass or tits for too long.

“Not Sam, right?” you question.

“Not if I can help it.” Bobby replies. “I’ll give Dean your number, he can coordinate with you. What motel are you at?”

“The Sunset Inn, just off the highway.” You run a hand through greasy hair. “Thanks for this, dad.”

“No problem, kiddo. Stay safe.”

You hang up and toss your phone onto the nightstand. You’re two days overdue for a shower, and you gratefully step under the warm spray, massaging shampoo into your hair and scrubbing your skin with your favorite body wash.

When you step out, the light on your phone is blinking, signaling that you’ve got a text message. You open the text string to see a message from a phone number you don’t recognize.

> I’ll be at your motel tomorrow, late morning.

Tomorrow afternoon? Sounds a bit fast. You shake it off; maybe Dean’s closer than you thought.

< See you then. Thanks for the help!

***

You wake up late the next day. You’ve missed breakfast, and you quickly dress before skipping down the street to the closest McDonalds to treat yourself with a fast-food breakfast. You miss your dad’s blueberry pancakes and fluffy eggs, but you get what you get when you’re on the road.

You are goin’ straight home right after this hunt.

When you get back to the motel you don’t see the Impala. It’s almost noon, so you make a wild guess and assume that Dean’s still on his way. When you unlock the door to your room, however, your help is already inside.

Sam Winchester’s sitting on your unmade bed, long legs stretched out in front of him. He’s watching something on the TV, and he looks up when you go still in the door, eyes wide with shock. It’s been a few months since you’ve last seen each other, and that had ended badly.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you ask before he can open his mouth to speak. “I thought Dean was coming.”

“Dean’s busy.” Sam stands up, staring at you across the room. “I came instead.”

“What’s he busy with?”

“Not important.” Sam strides over to the table, where you’ve laid out the details of your case. “You gonna let me help you with this or not?”

You’re silent for several seconds. When you do speak, it’s not to answer Sam’s question. “I asked for Dean.”

“Well, you got me instead.” Sam smirks at you. “Come on, it’s just a couple days.”

“Does my dad know?”

“No,” Sam answers curtly, “why? What’re you gonna do? Tattle?”

You fold your arms. “I don’t like working with you.”

“Too bad.” Sam pulls a chair out and sits down, motioning to your case files. “Tell me what you got.”

***

Two incredibly tense days later, your case is done. You’re on edge for more than one reason; Sam is the first man you’ve been in close proximity with in a long time, and you can’t deny that your fear of him is turning into something else as well.

If you jump into bed with him, however, the outcome definitely won’t be good.

You’re packing when he comes back from a meeting with the local sheriff's department. He’s wearing his full suit and tie, and he stops by the table to sling his jacket over the back of the chair.

“You takin’ off?” he asks.

“That’s what it looks like,” you reply, deliberately avoiding looking at him.

He chuckles, but it’s forced. He’s not happy about you leaving. “Thought you’d stick around a couple more days.”

“Nope,” you reply, “I’m going home for a bit.”

“Ah.” Sam loosens his tie and casts his gaze towards your half-packed bag. “You gonna tell your dad that I showed up?”

“I just wanna go home,” you retort sharply. “Can you just go? We’re done here, there’s no reason for you to—”

“Are we?” Sam paces closer, tossing his tie behind him onto the table. “Are we really done here?”

You swallow thickly. “Sam, I—”

“What?” He presses into your space and pulls the half-folded shirt from your hands. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I freak you out, huh?”

“Yes.” Your answer is a soft whisper.

“But I bet you’re thinkin’ about what I can do to your tight little body.” Sam brushes your hair out of your face with his index finger. “Been wanting to get my cock in your pussy for a while now… gonna give me a chance?”

You shudder with mixed fear and arousal. “I don’t know if—”

“If I’ll listen to you?” Sam cups the side of your head, his thumb under your chin at the top of your throat. “I won’t hurt you unless you ask me to. And,” he steps around to stand behind you, lowering his head so he can whisper into your ear, “I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t mind if I bruised you up a bit.”

You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your lips when his hand wraps around the column of your throat. “Sam…”

“Don’t worry,” he moves his lips over the shell of your ear, “I’ll leave ‘em where your daddy won’t see.”

That does it.

You turn around and let him bring you into a kiss that’s so fierce and rough it hurts. He grasps the hem of your tank top and tugs it up over your head as you rip the buttons of his dress shirt open. The rest of your clothing follows in a flurry of cotton and denim. When you’re naked, Sam turns you around while gripping the back of your neck, and shoves you onto the bed. You fall onto the mattress on your hands and knees, and he stands behind you, running his hands over the cheeks of your ass.

“Sweet little ass,” he comments, “should have it out more often.”

SMACK!

You’re about to reply when he spanks you, hard enough to make you cry out. The sting quickly develops into a burning ache that has your pussy clenching around nothing. “Fuck,” you finally gasp out.

“Yeah.” Sam palms the aching flesh. “Gonna mark you up real good.”

SMACK!

His next slap is harder, and you arch right into the sensation, knees sliding apart on the mattress. Sam chuckles with approval and raises his hand to deliver another blow.

SMACK!

You cry out on each slap, legs shuddering as slick drips from your pussy. Sam lets out a dark growl when a clear string of it slowly descends to land on the covers below. “Christ, you’re a horny little bitch.”

Normally, you’d object to being called anything of the sort. Coming from Sam’s mouth, however, it’s positively sinful and only makes you want to be stuffed full of his cock even more.

“Do I need anything?”

The question catches you a little off guard, but you shake your head. “Pill.”

“Good.” Sam moves up behind you and leans over to kiss your shoulder. His cock pokes the back of your thigh, and you rear back to try and get him inside you. “You want it bad, baby?”

You nod, whimpering. “Yeah.”

Sam scrapes his teeth over your skin, reaching down to sweep his cock through your folds. “Hold on tight.”

You barely have time to grab the covers before he’s pushing inside, groaning loudly as your wet heat swallows him. He bottoms out with three inches of his cock left to go, and you shiver as he gives a slow, testing thrust. He’s too big for you and he’s gonna fuck you anyway.

“Goddamn,” he growls, “sure you’re not a virgin?”

You shake your head. “You’re j-just… fuck, you’re so big.”

He chuckles darkly and wraps one arm around your shoulders, effectively caging you in underneath him. “Want me to fuck your little pussy ‘til you can’t walk?”

You shudder, arching your back and pressing your ass up towards his hips. “Yes.”

Sam shoves forward, not holding back as he starts to fuck you hard and fast. You cry out, and he buries his lips against your jaw, biting down to earn another squeal when you go quiet.

“Yeah.” Sam holds you tighter, using his entire body to pin you down. “You fucking like gettin’ used.”

You try to nod and fail miserably. Sam takes your answer for a solid yes and continues fucking you. His other arm slides down your body until he gets his hand between your legs. You stiffen and wiggle in his grip when he starts rubbing your clit, but he doesn’t release you. You’re trapped in a hot, sweaty cage of pleasure and you’re not escaping until Sam’s done.

“Sam,” you choke on his name as his thrusts grow harder, more punishing. The thick weight of his cock slides in and out of you, and you’re unable to focus on anything other than what’s happening between your legs. “Oh, f-fuck, yes-s…”

In answer, Sam bites down on your shoulder hard enough to make you whimper, arms giving out so that you slump down with your face turned to the side. He hasn’t stopped his incessant attention on your clit, and you spasm as a wave of heat washes over you.

“Fuck!” You fight the urge to burst into tears of pleasure. “Sam, please, I’m gonna—”

“Cum?” Sam quickens his pace, roughly snapping his hips against your ass as you squeeze tight. “Do it. Cum on my cock.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull when you cum. Sam holds himself deep, only moving with quick little thrusts that nudge your sweet spot until you’re squirting on him. You scream into the covers, entire body quaking, and Sam bites down on the back of your neck to keep you still. It’s almost primal, the way he does it.

When you’re done and struggling for relief, Sam leans back, giving you space to breathe and recover. His cock’s still nestled inside you, and the insides of both of your thighs are wet with your orgasm. He lands an approving slap on your ass.

“Might have to keep you around,” he mutters, filling one hand with a globe of flesh as he rocks his hips. “Where do you want it?”

You swallow, raising your head from the bed. “Huhh?”

“Where do you want my cum?” Sam rolls his hips again, holding his cock painfully deep.

You wiggle your hips. You’re too sensitive to have him inside you any longer. “In my mouth,” you finally gasp out, “cum in my mouth.”

Sam pulls out with a grunt and turns you around, fisting a hand in your hair and practically dragging you off the bed. You fall to your knees with a soft grunt, and then Sam’s pressing his cock at your lips. You open up, sucking him into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks. You can taste yourself on him, and you press your thighs together.

“Fuck yes,” Sam breathes, gripping the base of his shaft as you suck on him. “I’m real close, baby, take it easy.”

You only speed up, desperately bobbing your head to take him deeper. Sam grunts when you stroke him, matching your pace as he starts to throb. His thighs shake, and he gasps a quick warning before spurting hot and thick into your mouth. You swallow it down, eyes locked on his face.

“Shit…” Sam pulls himself from your mouth, shooting a white stripe of his seed onto your lips before jacking the rest off onto your throat and tits. When he’s done, you lean in to press a sticky kiss to the tip. “Goddamn,” he huffs, “wait right there.”

He goes to his bag and tugs his phone from the front pocket. Opening the camera, he paces back to stand in front of you. “Look at me,” he directs, and once your eyes are locked on the lens and he’s satisfied with the angle, he takes the picture. “Perfect.” He leans down to help you stand before pulling you into a kiss where he can taste himself on your lips. “Gonna save that one forever.”

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#soulless!sam fanfiction #soulless sam winchester #soulless sam x reader #SOULLESS SAM #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #spn fanfic #spn reader insert

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lostmyhufflepuffstatus · 1 year

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Tear Drops on My Guitar

Word Count: 957

Summary: You've been friends with Sam Winchester for a long time, but lately you have been gaining more than platonic feelings for him.

Warnings: terrible writing as per usual

Genre: Angst????

A/N: I guess I'm breaking out of my Criminal Minds fandom shell... not going to lie the Supernatural fandom scares me... even though I have been a part of it for over 8 years.

Requests: OPEN

It had been two years of being at Stanford University with Sam Winchester, a year and a half since you got the courage to talk to him in a shared class, and just over a year of friendship. It was a shock to nobody when you told a mutual friend about your more than platonic feelings for Sam. For a while, you held up hope that he might share those feelings, I mean, it's hard not to form a bond with someone who was up all-night studying with you and was one of the first people to congratulate you when you got that near perfect score on the LSATs, even though they were a music composition major.

There were many drunken nights where he would tell you a bit about his family, how his father was constantly moving him and his brother around as kids, and how Sam never got the chance to put down secure roots in one place until he got into school. He admitted that he hadn’t told anyone about that until you. He could finally have friends and a life of his own. You thought about those nights a lot

You dragged your eyes away from his form, looking down at your notebook to look like you were studying, but the paper was blank. You knew deep down that if you kept looking at him with her, you would start crying in the middle of the courtyard. But you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes returned to him and Jessica. You wished with everything you had that you could hate her, that you could just pretend she didn’t exist, that she was some horrible monster that would just go away once you opened your eyes and stopped being scared. But you couldn’t. She made your best friend so happy; she was so kind to everyone and had never said a hateful thing about anyone that didn’t deserve it. That was what hurt the most.

You couldn’t picture anyone more perfect for Sam, nobody else deserved the kind of love that he showed her. You had never seen the smile on his face that he had. Sure, he smiled at you, and those were genuine, but the smiles he reserved for Jessica made him look alive like he was invisible.

You forced yourself to look away and gather up your things. You had tortured yourself for too long. While rushing to shove things into your bag, you couldn’t fight the urge to just look up one last time. As you were standing up Sam turned his head away from his conversation with Jess and met your gaze. You saw his face break out into the brightest smile, and that hurt. You forced the muscles in your face to return his grin with a small smile of your own. He looked like he was going to get up to try and talk to you, but you knew that you couldn’t take to him right now without spilling your heart out for him, and the rest of the students wandering around to see. You gave him a small wave before turning on your heel and making your way out of the courtyard as calmly as possible.

You could feel your eyes starting to burn with tears. The second you knew you were sure Sam wasn’t following you and you were out of his line of sight; you started running to your room. You needed the safety of the four blank walls. It was a blessing that your roommate had gone home for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until Monday.

You almost broke your key in the lock as you rushed to push the door open. You closed it hard behind you and locked it. The moment the lock clicked into place you felt the tears come. Sliding down the door, you covered your face in your hands and just let the tears go and today you couldn't seem to get them to stop. You didn’t know how much time you spent sitting on the floor in front of your door, how long you felt like the sobs being forced from your body would tear you in half. It was long enough for the sun to start its descent in the sky and the first stars began to show. After the last tear was expelled from your body, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, and then another.

Standing up you turned to the mirror that was covered in pictures, pictures of your family, your friends from home, your cats Moose and Squirrel, and of course a picture of you and Sam. That one had been taken on your 21st birthday. He had his arm around your shoulders, and you were making stupid faces at the camera completely in a world of happiness and bliss. You carefully removed the photo from the mirror and held it in your hands; you had an impulsive thought to just tear the photograph into little pieces and throw them away. But you knew that you would regret that if you did, so you shoved it into a drawer in your desk. You shoved your shoes off, not bothering to put them back where they needed to go before climbing into your bed, still in your day clothes. Pulling the blankets over your head, you hugged a pillow close to your chest and forced your eyes to close.

Maybe going to bed early, incredibly early apparently since the sun hadn’t fully set, and getting some sleep would make you feel better. Forcing your eyes to close, you hugged the pillow tighter as the first silent tears began to fall you thought about that smile, it was like you were back in the courtyard again but this time instead of Jess, that smile was for you.

#sam winchester imagines #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #supernatural imagines #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction

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justagirlinafandomworld · 1 year

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Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Song Prompt from Unclaimed Love Songs: Candyman by Christina Aguilera

Word Count: 162 (I went over and I have my reasons)

Photo Source adjacent. It's the post I reblogged from. I was unable to pull the link from the original blog.

A/N: The continuation of the soulmate!au posted last month. Not only do they lock eyes, but we get a glimpse of their future. 😏

He followed you through your front door, eyes trained on the way the dress clung to your curves. His fingers turned the lock on the door behind him. The gentleman at the party slipped from his features like the shadows across his face. His large hands were in your hair, then pressed against your back, before sliding down the curve of your ass to squeeze. His mouth was hot against yours, tongue slipping in and teeth nipping at your chin and neck.

His face scrunched into an uncertain smile before a hand lifted from the table, long fingers flexing in a wave.

You returned the gesture, trying to quell the sudden desire pulsing through you.

The man was beautiful and so out of your league. When your friend was finally ready to make the great escape from the café, you were thankful for the distraction.

The last thing you needed was to make an even bigger fool of yourself for the day.

<<prev

#unclaimed love songs flash fiction challenge #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester drabble #spn drabble #spn reader insert #reader insert #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester/reader #sam winchester/you

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her-storybooks · 1 month

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♥ Sam Winchester and Y/N Master list ♥

Hello dear reader, welcome to my Sam and Y/N master list. Sam Winchester and Supernatural were the first fandoms I wrote Y/N stories for! It certainly holds a special place in my shipper heart!

Smut = 🔥 Romance = 💖 Fluff = 🌸 Angst = 🌧 Prompt = ✨ Episode = 🐶 One-shot = 🌱 Multi chaptered = 🌲 Collection = 🪴

The Power of Three 💖🌸🌧🐶🌲 Once upon a time, there were two brothers who saved the world - but who would be there to save them? What would have happened if Season 7 was different? What would have happened if the boys had met Y/N? - heavily focused on Y/N and Sam's relationship.

The Diner and The Bar 💖🌸🌱 Sammy used to work on the docks, he’s down on his luck, it’s tough, so tough. Y/N works the diner all day. She brings home her pay, for love, for love. - What happens when one hunter finds himself ordering from the diner Y/N works at?

Celebrating Life 💖🌸🌱 After a rough hunt, leaving the boys tired and with little hope, they return to the bunker filled with decorations and music. Lead by Y/N, Jack and Castiel helped turn the bunker into the perfect scene for the hunters to celebrate New Year's Eve properly! And it's just what the boys needed.

November Morning 💖🌸🌱 Y/N wakes up one morning and there is a very strong chill in the air of the bunker. Since there are no monster hunts to distract them from fixing the plumbing, the boys get to work to fixing the heat whilst Y/N sets up a warming sanctuary in the meantime.

Coming Up Easy 💖🌸🌱 Sam and Y/N wake up in the same bed and are thrown into the consequences of the morning after. When Dean makes a sudden return they have to think quickly on their feet. Will big brother approve of their recent relationship development? Be ready for rom-com cliche moments and tooth-rotting fluff!

The Mystery Dilemma 💖🌧🐶🌱 Y/N gets a phone call from Bobby who is worried about Sam. Since Dean was killed, Sam has been on a mission to find The Trickster, but in doing so, he’s pushed everyone away. When Bobby can’t get through to Sam, he pulls out the big guns. Unlucky for Sam. Set during 3X11 ‘Mystery Spot.

Lust in a Coffee Cup 🔥🌱 After a series of adultery based deaths, Y/N, Sam and Dean investigate. It seems one of the seven deadly sins has escaped hell and is looking for revenge. What happens when Lust curses both Sam and Y/N?

#Sam Winhester #Sam Winchester and Y/N #Sam Winchester reader insert

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corinthianism · 6 months

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corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

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octoberclidan · 5 months

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Her Boys

Request: hi:) can you do sam x reader x dean where reader lives with them and after hunts she usually falls asleep in the back of impala (sometimes with her head on castiel's lap) so sam and dean takes turns on carrying her to motel bed and giving forehead goodnight kiss (sam's turn in this fic ) and some nights after having nightmares she sneaks out to one of their bed (dean's in this fic)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader and Sam Winchester x Reader, a bit of Castiel x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

"Dean", Castiel's voice sounded from the back of the Impala. "I think you should turn your music down".

"What? Why?" Dean sounded almost offended by Cas' request. It was late, and they were driving to a motel after a successful hunt. It was dark out and raining, so Dean had turned his music up even louder than usually so it could be heard over the rain hitting the windshield and roof of his car. Sam turned around to look at Cas, and Cas looked down to his lap. Sam nodded and reached forward to turn the music down low, and swatted Dean's hand away when Dean tried to turn it back up.

"She's asleep", Sam whispered to him, and Dean glanced up into the rearview mirror, only finding Cas looking back at him. [Y/N] had a habit of falling asleep in the car after hunts. The boys could run on limited sleep, but she couldn't keep her energy up like them. She was sore from the hunt, having been pushed and thrown around a lot, and after running all over the place for hours, she was exhausted. She'd lasted about fifteen minutes in the car sitting up before she'd given in and leaned over to lie in Cas' lap. He had his hand resting on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it with his thumb, and she had one of her arms wrapped around herself, the other holding on to Cas' thigh.

The Impala was warm, and safe, and familiar. It smelled like a mixture of all three of her favourite people; the Winchesters and Cas. She hadn't even been with them all that long, just under a year, but they were her family, and they were her home. They'd all taken a likening to her from the moment they'd met, and they all had a soft spot for her. Dean thrived on taking care of people, and while Sam and Cas made that difficult for him sometimes, [Y/N] made it easy. She didn't complain when he was slightly overprotective of her on hunts, and she never refused his help when he offered it. She satisfied the nurturing need he had, though he'd never admit it. Sam had been looked out for and taken care of his whole life by Dean, and whenever he tried to return the favour, Dean wouldn't let him. [Y/N] was never embarrassed by Sam looking out for her, she always valued his advice, and the fact that she so openly looked up to him made him feel important. She'd definitely had a warm and positive impact on the team dynamics, and they'd do whatever they could to make her want to stay with them.

The rumble of the car's engine was muffled by having her ear pressed against Cas' lap, but she began to stir when the rain got heavier. Cas quickly pulled his hand off her shoulder and lay it gently on her other ear to block out the noise, and her breathing deepened again. All three of them remained silent for the rest of the drive, and Cas only removed his hand from her ear when the rain stopped.

***

It was awhile later when Dean pulled into a motel that had a vacancy sign lit up, and while he got out to go get a room, Cas and Sam stayed in the car with [Y/N]. He was back a few minutes later with a key card, knocking lightly on the passenger window to let Sam know before opening up the trunk and grabbing their bags. Sam got out of the car and opened up the back door, where Cas carefully helped maneuver [Y/N] into Sam's arms. Sam had one arm under her knees and his other around her back, she fit perfectly into his arms. Her head fell against his shoulder as he straightened up and made sure he had a good grip on her. He looked down at her, she looked so peaceful and innocent, it was hard to think of the girl in his arms as the same person who he'd seen earlier shooting the monster they'd been hunting.

Cas held the door open for the boys as they walked into the motel room, before letting them know that he had a few things to check on in Heaven and would be back in the morning. Dean dropped the bags down onto one of the beds while Sam walked [Y/N] over to bed farthest from the door; the boys liked making sure that she was always in the safest place possible. He lay her down on the bed and brushed her hair out of her face as Dean dug through his bag to find one of his hoodies, one that he knew [Y/N] liked as it was thick and warm, and quite big on her. He walked over to Sam and nodded at him, letting him know he was ready to do something that the two of them had gotten used to doing on nights after hunts. Sam slowly lifted [Y/N] into a sitting position, holding her head against his chest to keep her comfortable. Dean unzipped her jacket and pulled it off her, leaving her t-shirt on. The two of them slid the hoodie onto her, pulling her arms through the sleeves and pulling it down over her. Sam then let her lie back down and smiled in thanks to Dean, letting him know that he could go get himself ready for bed.

While Dean was in the bathroom, Sam untied [Y/N]'s shoes and pulled them off. He then pulled the covers of the bed over her and tucked her in, making sure that none of the cool motel room air would disturb her. He watched as she snuggled into her pillow, smiling in her sleep. Sam wondered what she was dreaming about, and was looking forward to hearing about it in the morning over breakfast. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, a habit he'd picked up that he found soothed him. Being able to kiss her on the forehead and feel her warmth under his lips reminded him that she was alive, and she was safe, and protected.

***

Several hours passed when [Y/N] began to stir. Her good dream had slowly morphed into a nightmare, and she'd been experiencing a version of the hunt that had not gone as well as it had in reality. She breathed in sharply as her eyes shot open and she sat up, in darkness, momentarily not knowing where she was, until she smelled Dean's scent just under her chin. She grabbed the collar of the material and pulled it up to her nose, the smell instantly calming her. She smiled as she realised it was her favourite hoodie of his, and that the boys must have put her to bed. She turned her head to the side and let her eyes adjust, she could just about make out their silhouettes in the two beds beside hers. She pushed her covers back and let her legs hang over the side of the bed, the coolness of the air making her shiver slightly. She made sure to be quiet as she stood up, not wanting to interrupt their sleep, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep after a nightmare on her own. She needed one of her boys.

Dean's bed was closest to hers, and he'd also left space beside him. She wasn't sure if that was intentional or not, but she took it as an invitation. She looked over to Sam to make sure he was okay, and smiled when he mumbled something in his sleep and then chuckled to himself. She owed a lot to the Winchesters, and to Cas too. They'd never told her that they loved her, and she'd never told them that she loved them either, but she didn't need verbal confirmation. She knew that she was loved, she could feel it in their actions every day. She carefully pulled back the covers on Dean's bed and slid in beside him, turning to face away from him and feel the heat of his body on her back. Only a minute later, she felt Dean's strong arm wrap around her waist and she was pulled against his chest. She felt his nose on the back of her neck as he breathed her in, and she felt his breath tickle her shoulder as he breathed out. There was no chance of her nightmare coming back that night as she drifted off in Dean's arms, knowing that even though she hunted monsters and demons, as long as she had her boys, she would be safe and sound.

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx

Sam Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx

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nyxiswrites1200 · 4 months

Text

🩵𝑺𝒂𝒎'𝒔 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍🩵

Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Crushing, friends to lovers, pet names, Sexual tension, Mellow sexual thoughts, Size kink, p in v, nipple play, multiple rounds, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

Mentions: She/her reader pronouns, Reader wears a skirt, Reader is implied to be shorter than Sam, Imagining early seasons Sam, Dean is present

"In a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

AN: uhh I know I died for like a month but supernatural brain rot is incoming. Sam girl for life <3 anyhow, happy holidays loves. This is so self-indulging, sorry babes.

----

Sam Winchester is an awkward man. He's so respectful he doesn't know what to do with himself sometimes. But don't mistake his sweet attitude for a lack of attraction.

When you bend over to pick his book up off the floor for him, he notices your skirt sliding up your thighs. He quickly looks away as he runs a hand through the back of his messy brown hair.

Sam always opens the door of the Impala for you when you join him and Dean on road trips. He notices the way you let your hand brush over his arm as you help yourself into the car. Dean just lets out a small laugh as he climbs into the driver's seat.

Sam watches you saunter around the motel room in his shirt. Under the claim that 'it's just more comfortable'. He loves the way your figure is swallowed up by his larger clothes.

Sometimes it was almost degrading how respectful he was. In truth, you were trying to get his attention. To catch him peaking under your skirt, getting hard from seeing you in his shirt, or him finally being pushed over the edge by your 'discreet' affectionate touches. You swore you were gonna have to climb in his lap and say "fuck me" for him to actually do it.

In truth, Sam wasn't oblivious to what you wanted. Rather he was too kind to give it to you. He thought you were so precious that he needed to deny you. Sleeping with you would be too personal, too intimate and he wouldn't be able to let go of you after.

Dean let out a small laugh, Sam and him were alone in the hotel room while you went to go get dinner for the three. "What, Dean?" Sam asked in his partially sassy attitude as he read through his book. "Nothing nothing...it's just funny watching her pawn for you. Think you might be hurtin' her feelings." Dean smirked as he looked over at his little brother. Sam sighed in response, knowing he could only be talking about you. "I'm not that stupid, I know what she wants...I just..." he ran a hand through his hair "I don't think I should". "Sammy" Dean inquires "Look, she knows what we do. She hasn't gone running yet and she's perfectly human, there's nothing dangerous about that girl" he chuckles. "I know you're afraid because of what happened but...I think this might be something worth risking".

Sam let Dean's words simmer in his thoughts all night. For once he might actually agree with his older brother.

The next night you and Sam were alone. You finally spilled, being brutally honest. Sam watched with a bit of shock as you admitted how you'd be pawning for him. All your actions had a purpose and how bad you wanted to be his girlfriend. You almost wanted to cry with how emotionally overwhelmed this made you trying to explain yourself.

"Lovely, I'm sorry..." Sam stands as he cups your cheek and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. "I know you want me but I was being selfish because I know if I...indulge myself in you, I won't be able to let you go ever again." he explained, his voice was so gentle and his eyes reminded you of a puppy with the way he looked at you. "Maybe...I'm a little selfish too" you chime in "I just...I wanna be yours so bad that I don't really care what happens".

Those words alone tumbled the tension between both of you over the edge. Sam's kisses were soft then heated and needy. He had you pushed against the motel wall while both of you discarded your clothes. His larger figure covered you as he kissed you desperately. His hands engulfed your hips as he gripped them.

Once you two were on the bed, his hands fondled your breasts, teasing your nipples between his fingers. His chest pressed into your back as he kissed along your neck. You reached back to tangle a hand into his hair.

Sam was so sweet but he was a fucking god in bed. He knew exactly where to kiss, fondle, and tease. Nothing but deeply slurred words of "How does that feel?", "You okay?", "Taking me so well, lovely", and "Good girl...". You went three rounds with him...

He rubbed your clit and toyed with your nipples, leaving kisses and sucking up your neck. You came on his fingers, feeling him stretch you open. You wanted to watch his strong hands fuck into you so bad.

He nestled himself between your thighs. His tongue lapping up your first orgasm. You watched as you tugged on his hair, noticing the dominant look in his eyes. His hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread as you squirmed beneath him. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked on it until he fucked his tongue inside you while you came again.

Then finally he fills you with his cock, only after making sure you were okay. He had you stuffed to the brim, grunts and moans leaving him with each thrust. He pressed his forehead against yours as he kissed your cervix with the tip of his dick.

When you came for a third time, he let you ride your high until he pulled out and finished on your stomach. A gentleman as always, not stuffing you with his cum on the first night. Even if you wouldn't have minded.

Sam carefully cleaned you up in the bath. Warm water envelops you both. He placed a soft kiss on your shoulder and gently rubbed your side as he cleaned you up. His actions are no longer lustful, this was just affectionate. "Did you enjoy yourself? Wasn't too much?" he asked softly, his expression back to looking like a puppy. "I'm fine, Sammy. It was perfect..." You smiled and kissed him softly.

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kaleldobrev · 4 months

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Never the Favorite

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Platonic Pairing: Sam Winchester & F. Reader

Summary: You finally try and set the record straight

Word Count: 844

Warnings: Cursing (1x)

Authors Note: Takes place during season one | Something that always got me, is whenever Sam said something along the lines of Dean being the favorite child. Like Sam, he wasn’t and it was pretty clear so that’s what I based this fic on | Let me know if you like the new way I have formatted | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was another classic Sam and Dean argument — Sam telling Dean how he was never the favorite child growing up and how Dean actually was; and how much of a black sheep of the family Sam had felt because he didn't want to go into the family business. It was an argument and a sentiment that you were so used to hearing at this point that you could pretty much recite word for word their replies. The boys were starting to sound like broken records, and you and Dean had only picked up Sam from Stanford a few months ago.

You didn't want to get involved in their argument as you felt like it wasn't really your place, but there was a part of you that started to get annoyed with Sam, because you knew that Dean was never the favorite — Sam always was. You knew how hard Dean had tried over the years to try and get his father's approval, but it was approval that he would never be able to get, no matter how hard he tried. It killed you inside, because you loved Dean for who he truly was, not who he was pretending to be.

But because you had heard this argument so many times, you had told yourself that you were finally going to say something to Sam; to try and stop this argument once and for all.

Parking Baby and cutting the engine, Dean pulled out his wallet from the glove compartment, pulling out a crumpled up 20 that he won from a poker game a few nights ago. “Gonna grab some snacks. Either of you want anything?” He asked before turning to you. “Want your usual chocolate anything?”

You gave him a small smile. “Yes please. And orange soda if they have it.”

“Getting you the bottle this time. ‘Cause I don’t want another spilling incident like last time with the can,” he said, giving you a wink. “How about you?” He asked, turning to Sam.

“I’m good thanks,” Sam nodded, before pulling out his phone and promptly started checking his e-mail.

“Alrighty,” Dean said, getting out of the car. “Be back in ten.”

As soon as Dean was out of eyeshot and earshot, you sat up closer to the passenger side where Sam was, placing a hand on the back of the seat. “Hey, I know he’s your brother and the whole point of brothers is basically being assholes to each other but, I really need you to lay off the whole Dean being the favorite stuff.”

Sam turned to you, placing his phone in his lap; the look he gave you was of pure confusion. “But he is the favorite. Always has, always will be. I know you probably wouldn’t know that consider —”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you began, slight attitude in your voice. “I’ve been hunting with Dean and your father for about a year now, and let me tell you, I didn’t need to be around for your childhoods to know that you were and are still the very clear favorite.”

“Me? The favorite?” He scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did it ever occur to you why he’s so similar to your dad? Why he barely shows any of his actual interests around anyone but me? Dean wears his jacket, listens to the same music, says the same phrases.”

“But…that’s how Dean always has been," Sam stated. For as long as he could remember, that's always how he remembered Dean, being so similar to their father. Memories flashed before him, recalling numerous times where him and his father sang along to Zeppelin during one of their many insanely long car rides to Pastor Jim's, or how Dean would refuse to go anywhere without their father's leather jacket.

"You really know nothing about your brother do you?" You asked him, slight sadness and hurt entering your voice. You hadn't known for very long, but you had known him long enough for him to start letting you in and getting to know the real him, and not the facade he let everyone else believe. "The only reason Dean acts like your father is because in his mind, if he acts like him he'll get the approval he always wanted that you never had to try and get." You felt your blood start to boil. "So please stop with the fucking favorite argument okay? I'm sick and tired of it."

Sam was silent for a moment, as he's never seen you this angry before nor has he ever seen you this defensive of anyone. As much as he wanted to disagree with you, he knew that he couldn't because he clearly didn't know Dean the way that you did. He might of spent 18 years of his life on the road with him, but he didn't actually know him. "Okay," he finally said, slightly sighing.

"Just...don't tell Dean I said any of this to you okay?" You asked him, slightly patting his shoulder.

"Of course," he said, slightly smiling.

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imagineteamfreewill · 2 years

Text

Undercover

Title: Undercover

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,139

Warnings: Guns, mentions getting arrested

Square Filled: Rival AU

Summary: Y/N runs into Sam on a hunt and it goes as well as she could expect.

A/N: This is a submission for the extended 2021-2022 SPN AU Bingo (@spnaubingo). As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. Please let me know what you think! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You’d thought you’d been paranoid this morning when you passed the old bookstore on Maple Street and had to do a double take. Then, after you’d seen the ghost of his figure ducking into the local animal hospital just off Highway 30, you’d made a u-turn in an old bait shop’s gravel parking lot just so you could drive past and look for his car. It wasn’t until you’d crept your way into the old marina’s guard building that you realized that you had, in fact, found the same hunt as Sam Winchester.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you pulled yourself up onto the top of the upper cabinets. Once you were settled, you flicked off your flashlight and watched as Sam trekked back up the dock towards your hiding place, his own maglight in hand.

He was only a dozen feet away from the back door when he froze and carefully pulled out his gun. You tensed, watching in silence as he peered through the midnight fog that blanketed the lake and the surrounding area. You hadn’t spotted anything suspicious, and you’d been careful to cover up any trace of yourself, which meant that Sam’s sudden change in behavior could only be due to something more nefarious than yourself.

Slowly, Sam crept into the guardhouse, keeping his gun drawn. You held your breath.

“You’re out of your depth with this one,” he finally said, and suddenly his light shone directly in your eyes.

You huffed and held up your free hand to block the light, squinting at him in irritation. “And you’re still a jerk. Nice to see you too, Sam.”

“Get down from there and go home. I’ve already done all the research and I can easily handle this on my own.”

“Oh yeah?” You carefully lowered yourself down from the cabinets and pulled your own gun from the holster strapped to your thigh. You’d stopped tucking it into your jeans a long time ago, opting instead for a more practical option when the chances of running into someone were slim. “Then how come that David said there were no hunters in the area?”

Sam made a face. “Who the hell is David?”

Rolling your eyes, you stomped past him, fully ignoring the gun he kept trained on you. The security guard’s desk would only be unattended for another five minutes. You’d been in the middle of searching for the disc that contained the antiquated security system’s footage from the past two weeks when Sam had interrupted you.

"What are you doing?” he questioned, coming closer to watch over your shoulder.

“Your mom,” you snarked back.

The disc was shoved in a drawer underneath a short stack of file folders and a notebook with yellowed pages. You pulled it out and turned your flashlight on to inspect the label on the front just to be sure you’d found the right thing, but Sam snatched it out of your hand before you could get a good look.

“Hey!” You grabbed at it, but he held it out of your reach as he read the front himself. “Sam Winchester, this is my hunt! I have been here for over a week now and if you don’t stop interfering, I will call the police on you!”

He only grinned and tucked the DVD into the inside pocket of his jacket. His gun had also been tucked away, leaving him with just the maglight in hand as he looked you over.

“We both know that never ends well. How many times have you tried that one? Three? Four?”

You kept your own gun out and narrowed your eyes at him. “Go. Home.”

“No.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the front doors made you both freeze, and you hurried to switch off your flashlights and escape. When the door swung open only a few moments later, you ducked behind the table. Sam was already crouching behind it and he pushed you into view as he crawled underneath the vinyl tablecloth to hide. Though the guard had yet to turn on the overhead lights, the smug look on Sam’s face was clear as he disappeared from your sight.

Quickly, you unclipped your holster and shoved both it and your gun inside one of the lower cabinets. They weren’t hidden well, but you could only hope that no one would spot it before you could get back to retrieve them. You barely had time to shoot Sam a look of utter loathing before the lights came on and the guard spotted you.

“Hey, you can’t be in here,” he said, heading right for you.

It took everything in you not to reveal Sam’s presence as the guard cuffed you and marched you over to his desk so he could phone the police. Logically, you knew that one hunter on the case was better than two of them locked up for trespassing, even if it was Sam Winchester.

Three hours later, the officer who’d collected you from the marina and brought you down to the station stepped into the holding cell area and unlocked the door. You looked up, a little surprised that David had even answered the phone associated with your alias. He wasn’t always the most reliable backup.

“You’re free to go, ma’am. I’m so sorry for the mixup,” the officer said, giving you a tight smile.

You stood from the bench and stretched a little, popping your back as the man held the cell door open for you. He led you out into the main part of the station, but you slowed your pace as you neared his desk.

Sam sat opposite the officer’s chair, his hands cuffed to a metal loop on the desk in front of him. When he saw the officer had returned, he turned his head to meet your eyes, his expression unreadable.

“Can I ask if you were able to get ahold of my supervisor?” you asked, closing the distance between you and the two men.

The officer pulled your bag of personal items from the bottom drawer of the desk and started removing the items from the clear plastic. He checked each of them off on your intake form as he worked, not bothering to look up as he replied.

“No, but we found this man impersonating a federal agent and interrogating local employees. When we contacted the man he claimed to be his supervisor, we realized that you were the real deal and this guy’s the fake,” he explained.

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced over at Sam, who was slouching further and further in his chair as the officer spoke.

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

This time the man looked up at you. He held out your flashlight, badge, wallet, and phone, which you accepted gratefully. A quick glance at the screen told you that you had three missed calls and a voicemail from David, no doubt chewing you out for getting arrested.

“His “supervisor” wasn’t his supervisor at all. The guy does work for the Bureau, though, because he confirmed your role in the case.” He glanced back down at the forms, then slid the paper towards you and held out a pen. “That should be everything. You just need to sign at the bottom saying that we’ve returned all your personal items. I’m sure the Bureau will be happy to clear up any paperwork regarding tonight?”

You nodded and leaned forward to scribble your alias’ signature on the bottom line, ignoring Sam’s glare. As you signed, you tried not to let your immense satisfaction that Bobby had vouched for you and not Sam show.

“I’m glad we could clear all this up,” you said. “Although…” Sam tensed as you paused and finally looked back at him, then at the officer. “This man isn’t impersonating a federal agent.”

“That’s not what your higher-ups said,” replied the officer. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding you with a suspicious expression. “Are you saying that he’s lying to me?”

Shaking your head, you tucked your badge and wallet back into the pockets of your jeans. “No, sir. I’m saying that he doesn’t know everything regarding this case. Like I told you when I first came in, I’ve been tracing a trail of murders across several states. The scope of this thing is huge and we’ve got hundreds of cases under investigation right now. This man is an undercover agent, one specifically chosen by me to help with my work, so I’m going to ask that you release him from custody. You’ve already risked blowing his cover by arresting him. I’m happy to take care of any paperwork on his behalf.”

After a few moments of consideration, the man sighed and shook his head, muttering to himself. He reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a second bag. This one held more items than yours, including Sam’s gun and several knives he’d had hidden on his person that you hadn’t been able to see before. You made a mental note of each one as the officer pulled them from the bag and checked them off on the paperwork he’d clearly been in the middle of filling out when he’d gone to release you from the holding cell. You also noticed that the disc with the security footage wasn’t among the items in the bag, which meant you’d have to ask Sam to give it back to you. Irritation grew in the center of your chest and you cleared your throat, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from saying something that would blow your cover.

While he worked, Sam stared at you in silence. You could feel his gaze focused on you as you supervised the officer going through Sam’s belongings, and he continued to stare at you while you filled out the papers regarding his release. Finally, the officer went around the desk and uncuffed him, then handed him the pen to sign off that he’d received all his personal items.

You stood beside Sam in silence as he collected his things, then stayed by his side as the two of you walked through the station and out into the parking lot. Your motel was only a few blocks down the street, and you had no doubt that Sam was most likely staying there too.

“Why did you do that?” he finally asked as you turned out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“Do you want me to go back and tell him I was lying?” you asked, not looking over at him. “Because then we’ll both be in even more trouble, and I don’t really want that.”

Sam sighed. “Y/N—”

“Don’t. Just go home and let me do my job.”

“This is my job too, you know.”

This time you did look over at him, but only for a second. “I didn’t get you out of there so you could help me, Sam. I got you out because I’m sure there are other people who need help. I’ve got this covered, and if you had only listened to me in the first place—”

“I was here first, so if anyone’s leaving, it should be—”

“Will you just stop?” you shouted. You stopped and turned to face him. He seemed startled by your outburst, but you didn’t let his unusual show of surprise faze you. “It’s very clear that neither one of us likes the other, and it’s even more clear that we can’t work together. I did you a huge favor sticking my neck out back there for you.” You pointed back down the street towards the station. “So for once in your life, can you just let someone else be in charge? Just give me the disc, go home, stay out of my life! Can you handle that, Sam? Or is that too hard for you?”

He stared at you, lips pressed together, and you crossed your arms over your chest. When he didn’t reply after a moment more, you turned and started walking again, leaving him standing with his back to the street.

“Fine,” Sam said, calling out to you as you kept walking. “But next time, don’t expect me to help you.”

You scoffed but you didn’t say anything. You knew that deep down Sam had to be a good person—bad people didn’t willingly sacrifice everything good in life—but something about him made you want to bang your head against the wall. There are many things that you wanted in life as a hunter, but getting away from him was at the top of the list. If letting him think that he had the upper hand here would get him to leave, then you’d let the argument fade. There were more important things to worry about.

Thank you for reading! <3

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