#WOL - GaFfSW | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 3

Summary: You’ve just opened an occult bookstore in Lebanon, Kansas, when you fall for a tall, handsome customer…literally. You soon find out that there’s more to the world than you ever suspected, including you. Discovering your heritage puts you directly in a witch’s crosshairs, though, so the Winchesters offer to take you in and teach you how to protect yourself. As you discover your own family history with the supernatural and your own hidden talents, you can’t help but wish a certain brother was as excited about your interest as you are.

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 634 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

The rest of the day, between customers, was spent daydreaming about the handsome stranger who had literally swept you off your feet. You tried to be productive, filling displays and stocking shelves, but after you had to restock an item you had put in the wrong place for the third time, you gave up. Sitting at your counter during a quiet hour, you contemplated your store.

When you were very little, your great-uncle had had a store just like it. You had spent your summers and after-school hours “helping out” Uncle Lloyd in the store while your parents worked, and you had loved that store. The smell of the books, the pretty crystals and wind chimes, and the incense burning had all calmed you and made you smile. In the years you had spent in the store, you had read almost every single book your uncle had in stock, learning about spirits and auras, world religions, and homeopathic healing. When your parents died, Uncle Lloyd took you in, sold the shop, and became the town librarian. You had missed the shop, and after he died a few years ago, you decided to open one of your own, in his memory.

Behind your counter, you kept all of the old books and journals Uncle Lloyd had left to you in a locked glass display case, next to pictures of your family. Your eyes settled on the picture of Uncle Lloyd at your high school graduation. Uncle Lloyd had been the oldest and loneliest “parent” at the ceremony, since he had been your last living relative after your parents died. Living with him had been tough on both of you for a few years. He quickly had to learn about punk rock and boy bands, makeup and “womanly needs,” and how to be a stable influence on a grief-stricken teenager. You had to learn to live with the man everyone thought was the town lunatic, who almost always said no to every request to go out and have fun, but who loved you fiercely, and told you so every night. There were fights. Lots of fights. Eventually, you had realized how much he had given up for you, and you stopped fighting him. Going away to college had helped, too.

You looked down at your wrist, at the charm bracelet Uncle Lloyd had given you after your parents died. He had been so happy when you went to college to study religions and philosophy. He had tried to teach you things like signs and sigils when you first lived with him, but you weren’t interested. Eventually, he had given up. When you took it back up in college, he hadn’t said anything, but you saw the happiness in his eyes. After he died, you tried reading his books, but they were seriously boring. You thought his journals would be more interesting, but they were all in a shorthand you couldn’t decipher. So, your family heirlooms, your legacy, sat in a locked display case at your new shop. They were a tribute to him, and to your family, since they couldn’t be here to see it.

Thinking about the books, your mind was drawn back to the handsome customer. He had said he was actually interested in buying some of them! Why on earth would he want to buy them? The titles on the spines were in small enough print you didn’t even think they could be read from in front of the counter. All you could see from that far away was the Aquarian Star on each book.

Just as you were about to seriously question the man’s interest, the bell over your door rang announcing a customer. Your heart sank when it was just a hipster with pink and purple hair looking for incense.

14 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 21

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1136 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

While Y/N was searching online for the stupid Supernatural books, Sam watched Dean take out his phone and make a call.

“Got a question for ya, Crowley. Back when Lucifer was topside, there was a demon taking out hunters and making it look like a heart attack. Do you happen to know who it was?” Dean paused, and then grimaced. “No, I’m not going to make her ask you…. Crowley? Crowley!” Dean stared at his phone in anger and growled. “Dammit.”

“Give me the phone, Dean. I’ll do it.” Y/N spoke quietly, but firmly.

“No way, Y/N. He’s just being a pain in the ass. We’ll find out some other way.” Dean put his phone in his pocket. Sam felt a stab of fear in his chest when Y/N smacked Dean and held her hand out.

“Give me the phone, Dean.” Sam watched Dean stare at Y/N for a long moment, then take his phone out of his pocket and hand it over.

“Dean! What the hell?” Sam practically yelled at Dean. Dean looked at Sam with defeat in his eyes.

“Crowley likes her, and I have a feeling this isn’t as bad a thing as we might think it is.” Dean nodded towards Y/N, who was looking up Crowley’s contact in his phone. Sam watched in amazement as Y/N started the call, set it to speaker phone, and set the phone on the table in front of her.

“I wasn’t expecting to get a call back so quickly, Squirrel. She must really have you wrapped around her little finger. How does Moose feel about that?” Sam grimaced and snorted loudly.

“It’s me, Crowley, and I have you on speaker phone.”

“Well, hello, darling! It’s nice to hear your lovely voice. What can I do for you, my dear?”

“You can answer Dean’s question. There was a demon trying to curry favor with Lucifer by taking out hunters and making it look like a heart attack. Do you have any idea who that might have been?” Sam saw Y/N’s hands shake, and he resisted the urge to reach across the table and hold them.

“As a matter of fact, I do. But, I can’t help wonder why your boys are interested in such old news?” Sam’s heart ached as he watched Y/N take a breath to steady herself.

“Because we have reason to believe he killed my uncle.”

“Ah. I see.” Crowley was quiet for a moment. “Well, there’s no need for worry. That particular demon was killed quite some time ago. If you want, you can ask Moose all about it. I heard he’s the one that did the dirty deed, in the end.” Y/N’s eyes flew to Sam’s, and Sam just shook his head in confusion.

“Who was it, Crowley?” Sam hoped his voice sounded more even than it felt.

“It was your old pal, Brady.” Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he was back in that alley for a moment, looking at the face of his former best friend. The demon that carried out the order to kill Jess. Sam ran a hand over his face and then through his hair. Sam was brought back to the present by Crowley’s voice. “He did impress Lucifer by taking out hunters so quietly that not even other hunters suspected his involvement. That’s what got him the promotion to stable boy for the horsemen.” Sam felt Y/N’s eyes on him, and he struggled to close the door to his inner library room. The book titled “JESS” was propping the door open, though, and wouldn’t budge. Sam got up and left the library, hearing Y/N thank Crowley before hanging up.

When he got to the kitchen, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, drank it down in one go, and then grabbed a second one. He sat down at the table, took a long pull from the second beer, and set it down in front of him. He picked at the label for a moment, and then put his head in his hands, covering his face. The door to his inner library was wide open, and Jess’ book was sitting on the table, pages fluttering in the breeze. How she laughed, how she kissed, how she made those damn cookies for him the night she died. And Brady. Hours spent trying to get him back on track, to not lose everything. Sam imagined what the interaction between Jess and Brady would have looked like the night he killed her. Tears leaked between his fingers, and he wiped them away, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. He felt the slight buzz from the beer start to settle in his muscles and he sighed. After emptying the second beer bottle, he put his head down in his arms.

He thought he heard footsteps, but didn’t raise his head. He felt someone sit down next to him, but he kept his head down. When he felt Y/N’s arms sliding around him, her body close to his, her head resting on his shoulder, more tears squeezed out of his eyes in spite of his fight to stop them. Part of him wanted to give in, accept comfort from Y/N, and feel the warmth she seemed to be trying to give to him. Doing that would lead to him falling for her even harder and make him want to get in between her and Dean. Y/N rubbed his back, and he struggled to regain his composure. Taking a deep breath, he closed Jess’s book in his mind, along with a new book he found with Y/N’s name on it, and put them back on the shelf. He pictured himself picking up the other books that were strewn around and carefully putting them away. As he was about to close the door behind him, Y/N spoke.

“Please don’t.” Sam paused. “I know what you’re doing, and I’m asking you not to.” Sam lifted his head and looked at Y/N, her head still resting on his shoulder. As he looked at her face, he felt the room shake behind him. He turned and took her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin and rubbing her back as she had rubbed his. Taking a deep breath, he quietly closed the door in his mind.

“Thanks, but…it’s for the best. For both of us.” He kissed her forehead, and then released her, getting up and heading to his bedroom. When he got there, he shut the door quietly behind him, then opened the door to his inner library. Cas said it needs to air out, and right now, it really needs to air out. Sam flopped down on his bed and let his mind wander until he fell asleep to dreams of Jess and Madison and Amelia and Y/N.

12 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 4

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1409 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

The next day, Sam dug through the Men of Letters membership records. The name on the store was Bowen, and before he got too excited about this woman, he wanted to be sure he was right. He started with the most recent records, those kept in 1958 before Abaddon wiped almost everyone out. As he skimmed the pages, he found what he was looking for.

January 15th, 1958 – Man of Letters Ted Bowen to take a 6-month sabbatical from the order due to the birth of his child, Peter. Will return to duties no later than July 1st, 1958. (Note: Younger brother and fellow legacy, Lloyd Bowen, will reach maturity 12/9/1958, and will begin training under his father, Albert Bowen, and his brother, Ted, in the new year.)

…

June 20th, 1958 – Man of Letters Albert Bowen deceased. Natural causes. (Note: Ted Bowen still scheduled to return to duty no later than July 1st.)

Sam dug around through his own files and found his notes on Abaddon’s attack, further confirming his theory. Ted Bowen was one of the men killed by Abaddon in August, 1958. Putting the files away, he headed back to the library and opened up his laptop. Loading the public records web site, he found that Peter Bowen was born January 14, 1958, married Paula Bowen in 1983, had a daughter, Y/N Bowen in 1985, and died in a car crash with his wife in 1998. Sam considered the woman in the shop, her gorgeous smile, her kind eyes, and her lilting voice. She would have been 13 when her parents died, and apparently her great uncle had taken her in. Sam imagined her uncle in 1958, losing both his father and his brother within a month, and wondered if Lloyd knew the circumstances around his brother’s death. Considering the sigils he had taught his niece, chances are that he did. Sam shook his head sadly.

Sam was jerked out of his thoughts by heavy footfalls coming down the hall. Dean appeared in the doorway to the library a moment later.

“Find anything, yet, about ‘The Darkness’ we unleashed?” Dean settled into a chair next to Sam, pushed a beer towards his brother, and put his feet up on the table. Sam tried not to look guilty. It had been a week since Dean had lost the Mark of Cain and “The Darkness” was unleashed, and absolutely nothing had happened. Columns of black smoke broke out of the ground, formed one giant cloud, washed over the land looking like a tornado on steroids, and then promptly dissipated. The worst damage anywhere was similar to a severe thunderstorm, and the supernatural world had been unusually quiet since then. No demonic signs, no freaky deaths, no weird missing persons reports. It was extremely unnerving, to say the least. After they found Cas and Crowley back at the warehouse, fixing Cas was the priority, but Crowley had been surprisingly helpful with that. Well, in exchange for not locking him up with Cas until the spell was broken. Since then, Sam and Dean both had been hitting the books and the internet, calling hunter friends in their network, and generally brainstorming trying to figure out what was going to happen before it happened. Not to mention Rowena was off plotting who-knows-what with the Book of the Damned and the codex, and Metatron was also who-knows-where doing who-knows-what with the demon tablet. Investigating a woman he met in a shop was not high on anyone’s priority list, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

“Umm, no.” Sam kept his eyes on his laptop, hoping Dean wouldn’t push the issue.

“Confirmed that the shop owner is a Woman of Letters, yet?” Sam’s eyes flew up to Dean’s and he knew his guilt was written all over his face.

“What? No. We have plenty of other things to worry about besides a woman in a shop in town.” Sam huffed and put his eyes back on his laptop.

“Then it must be porn you’re looking at, because I’ve never seen you look at research like that, no matter how much I know it turns you on.” Dean smirked and Sam felt his cheeks get hot. Sam sighed.

“Fine. You got me. I dug into the membership records and found her grandfather. He was one of the men Abaddon killed. She’s definitely a legacy.” Sam sighed.

“Why do you think she doesn’t know? I mean, you said her great uncle obviously knew, so why didn’t he teach her?” Dean took a drink of his beer and shook his head.

“According to the records, her uncle was 17 when Abaddon hit. He was scheduled to begin his training in January of ’59. My guess is, he knew what the Men of Letters was, but not much more. Anything he learned after ’58, he learned on his own, like Dad. Maybe after she lost her parents he decided to get out of the life? You know, make sure she didn’t lose her last remaining family member and end up in the system.”

“She lost her parents young?” Sam saw the sympathy on his brother’s face.

“Yeah. She would have been 13. Records say car crash. Couldn’t find any news articles about it, though. It appears she went to live with her uncle after that.” Sam peered at his screen. “And he died in late 2010. Looks like his death is still open, though. Coroner left the case open as undetermined. Could be foul play, could be an accident. The record says cause of death is ‘idiopathic myocardial infarction.’ Well, we know what that means.”

“Yeah, the coroner was stumped. Think it could have been our kind of thing?” Dean looked slightly dismayed at the idea, but the comment shot a dagger of ice into Sam’s heart.

“Oh, God. 2010. The Apocalypse. If he was a Men of Letters legacy, and someone knew that, you don’t think he died because someone wanted to drag him back into the life, do you?” Sam felt the guilt claw at his chest. Could Y/N have lost her last remaining family because of him?

Sam saw Dean consider the possibility and then push it away.

“Naw, man. There was lots of funky stuff going down back then that wasn’t related. It could have been a ghost just scaring him to death, for all we know. Let’s not take more on ourselves than we already have. We have enough to be guilty about, already.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Anyway, I came in here for a reason. Hank just called me and says he’s got a cursed object, he’s got it safely tucked away in a curse box, but he’s got nowhere safe to store it. He wanted to know if we could keep it here. I figure we have plenty of space, and there’s no place safer, so why not? I told him one of us will be at the bar down the street in a couple of hours and he can drop it off with us there. I figured you might want to go visit a certain shop just down the street from the bar, so I thought I’d take over research for a while.” Dean tossed the car keys on the table and flashed Sam a satisfied grin, obviously proud of himself for being so magnanimous as to offer to do research. Sam huffed.

“Dean, you hate research. What do you really want?” Dean put a hand over his chest dramatically and feigned offense.

“How could you possibly think that I would want anything more than to give my baby brother a chance to see the girl of his dreams again? You know, I’m offended. Here, I’m trying to do something nice, and you’re throwing it in my face! I guess I’ll just have to go meet Hank and check out this shop, myself!” Dean threw his hands up in the air and then reached for the car keys. Sam snatched the keys before Dean could reach them and got up. Dean smirked and sat back in his chair again.

“All right, Dean. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Sam grabbed his coat and headed toward the bunker’s garage. As he was almost out of earshot, he heard Dean yell.

“Oh, and bring back some pie! We’re all out of pie!” Sam shook his head as he got into the Impala.

13 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 28

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 621 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

Waking up on the cold floor of the bunker’s dungeon was just as awful as anyone would think. You’d have to be demonic to deal with extended time without a bed or even a comfortable chair. The chair Crowley had spent so many weeks sitting on was anything but comfortable, and Sam suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for having kept Crowley for so long. That was, until he thought of Sarah choking to death right in front of him, then he wished the chair had had spikes in the seat.

Sam groggily rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair. Why was he down here, again? He searched his mind. He and Dean went on a hunt. Vampire or werewolf, most likely. Fed suits, talking to cops, looking at bodies, finding knife cuts instead of claw marks, finding a matchbook for a club, splitting up with Dean at the club, and then darkness. Waking up in a warehouse with a witch… a spell…

Sam groaned. Dean had ganked the witch; Sam had told Dean he knew about Rhonda Hurley and the panties. Sam held his head in his hands. Dean had untied Sam; Sam had told Dean about how much the voicemail Dean had left for him the night before Lucifer rose hurt him. That had sparked an interesting conversation, since Dean hadn’t left the voicemail Sam remembered, but a different one. Dean had cursed Zachariah and Ruby while he burned the witch’s body; Sam had told Dean about the dance lessons Jess had made him take, and how the teacher had said Sam had a future in competitive ballroom dancing. Then, Sam had gone on to talk about a few of the various brotherly pranks he had played on Dean when they were kids. Sam started hitting his head against the wall. Dean had finished cleaning up the scene; Sam had told Dean that he knew that Dean and Y/N were together. Dean had stopped what he was doing and stared at Sam. Sam had then told Dean about the time he and Ruby had had sex in the Impala while Dean was in Hell. Dean had suddenly tackled Sam to the ground, stuffed a rag into his mouth, put the duct tape over the rag, and tied Sam’s hands behind his back. Sam had kept trying to talk, trying to tell Dean about each time he had dinged the car, had sex in the car, had a dog in the car, but the rag and tape muffled his words. Sam kept hitting his head against the wall. Oh, this was going to be BAD.

After Sam was muffled, Dean had said something. Dean had had to talk over Sam’s noises, but Sam had heard him. Dean and Y/N weren’t together. They were just good friends.

Sam stopped hitting his head on the wall.

Dean and Y/N weren’t together. Dean said she was starting to fill a bit of the hole Charlie had left, but that was it.

Y/N wasn’t in love with Dean.

Sam replayed the rest of the night in his head. The drive, complete with all of his muffled confessions. Then getting into the bunker, hearing Y/N’s voice, and breaking away from Dean because HE HAD TO TELL HER.

Sam put his head back in his hands again, covering his face.

The trip up the library steps. Falling literally into Y/N’s lap. Looking up at her and trying to speak. Her eyes as she looked into his, searching for something. And then the smile. Her questioning Dean about the spell, and her SMILE. Y/N stroking his hair, telling him they would talk when the spell passed and that it was okay.

Sam smiled.

11 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 10

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 3044 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

Sam woke up alone in Y/N’s bed, reached over to the empty side of the bed, and felt cold sheets. He looked at the clock on the nightstand and realized he had slept later than he usually did. In fact, it was barely still morning. Sitting up, he realized he had slept better than he had in ages. As he went through his morning routine, he tried not to think about how nice it was to have Y/N curled up with him. It had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with a woman, even just for sleep. His mind drifted back… Amelia. Sam shook his head to try to clear those thoughts before they took hold. At least Amelia got out alive. She’s happy with Don, now. That’s better than most of his romantic partners. Sam purposely changed his thoughts since the head shaking had obviously failed.

After Sam was dressed he headed to the kitchen to look for food. He stopped short just inside the door when he saw Dean and Y/N hugging. Sam felt frozen until he saw them break apart, and then he was able to force his feet to move him over to the coffee pot. While he was getting his coffee, he heard Dean say something quietly to Y/N, then Dean’s heavy footfalls as he left the room. Sam sighed.

“I guess he’s still pissed at me, huh?” Sam turned to Y/N, who was leaning against the counter.

“Yeah. It was kind of a low blow, but he’ll get past it. I mean, I’ve only known him a day, but I can already tell he loves you more than he’s mad at you.” Sam felt Y/N’s words strike his heart. It had been a low blow, and he knew it. There weren’t many things Dean couldn’t find a way to joke about, but Lisa was definitely one of them. Dean had forgiven Sam for a lot over the years, though each time had been harder than the last. Sam wondered if maybe this would be the time Dean just didn’t. Sure, this was minor compared to the myriad of ways Sam had let Dean down in the past, but it could be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sam sighed.

“We’ll see, I guess.”

Y/N moved towards the door. “We’re going to head to my apartment to grab some things I’ll need. Do you want to come along, or…?” Sam’s eyes flew to Y/N’s.

“Your apartment? Really?” Y/N nodded and shrugged.

“Dean says he’s got a plan. I didn’t ask about it.”

“I’m definitely coming. You’ll need both of us if something’s waiting for you.” Sam followed Y/N to the garage, where Dean was already in the car. Sam got in the back, leaving Y/N in the front. “Dean, what’s the plan? Head over there with hex bags and guns at the ready and shoot anything with red hair?” As Dean pulled the car out of the garage, he shook his head slowly, then pulled out his phone. Sam sighed. Obviously Dean was still pissed. He just hoped Dean got over it if things went pear-shaped.

“Crowley? I heard a rumor your mother’s got the hots for my brother. It must run in the family. I know, I know, after she’s dead we go back to trying to kill each other. Meet us at the bar. See you in ten.” Dean shoved his phone back in his pocket and pulled the Impala out onto the main road. Sam watched Y/N’s face and almost chuckled. The look of incredulity was hilarious.

“Do you have the King of Hell on speed dial?” Although she seemed surprised, there was also a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth. Dean flushed a little pink and then smirked at her. Sam watched the flirtation and wondered why he suddenly wanted to deck his brother.

“How does the song go? ‘I got friends in low places,’ right?” Dean chuckled as Y/N laughed and Sam glowered at the two of them.

“Why does the fact that the King of Hell has a cell phone surprise me? I guess I always figured there’d be magical ways of doing things like that if magic existed.” Sam was still feeling grumpy, so let Dean answer the question.

“There are, but a summoning spell takes time. Demons make phone calls using blood, but really, burner phone is just easier. If you know who you’re calling is going to pick up, it’s not worth the bloodshed, quite frankly.” Y/N shook her head in amazement.

“I have so much to learn.” Sam felt his chest get tight at the thought of Y/N having to learn anything, and sighed. The car pulled into the parking lot of the bar, and the three of them got out and walked in, finding a booth near the back. Sam made sure he sat next to Y/N, keeping her safe on the inside, while Dean went up to the bar and ordered beers for all of them. As Dean was setting down the glasses, Crowley appeared behind him.

“Hello, boys. And girl.” Dean jumped, then turned to Crowley and grimaced. Y/N tried to stifle a giggle, but failed.

“What the hell, Crowley? I thought I was past people popping up behind me like that when Cas lost his wings!” Dean sighed and slid into the booth. Crowley slid in next to him.

“Just trying to keep you on your toes. If you’re going to go up against my mother, I need you sharp. Now, tell me, why is the newest member of your little club joining us for such a high-level discussion?” Crowley turned to Y/N with a charming smile that made Sam gag. “Not that I mind being in the presence of a beautiful woman, mind you, I just know how overprotective Moose and Squirrel can be about their girlfriends.” Sam felt Y/N stiffen and put his hand on her hand to calm her. He turned to Crowley and hoped he was giving him the bitchiest of all bitch faces.

“Never mind her, Crowley. Just tell us what you know about what Rowena’s got planned,” Sam barked. Dean smirked as a waitress brought over a large, fruity drink with about four or five skewered pieces of fruit and a teeny, tiny umbrella sticking out of the top. She set the drink in front of Crowley, and he stared at it for a long moment. Sam heard Y/N work to stifle another giggle.

“I see you remembered, Dean. You make me all warm where my bathing suit goes.” Crowley rolled his eyes and took a sip of the drink from the straw with a shrug. “What I know about Rowena’s plans is very little. I was able to intercede this afternoon because I travel faster than she does. I’ve had demons watching her, but she didn’t show her hand until it was almost too late.” Crowley looked at Y/N with what almost looked like sympathy, but Sam knew better. “I’m sorry about your shop. I do hope you had insurance.” Y/N nodded and smiled at Crowley, which put Sam on edge.

“I want to thank you for saving my life, even if you couldn’t save my shop,” Y/N said, quietly. Crowley’s eyes widened in surprise and he smiled at Y/N.

“Finally! Someone who understands the value of gratitude! Keep her around, boys. She can teach you lunkheads a thing or two.” Sam huffed angrily and glared at Crowley. Crowley kept his eyes coolly on Sam, as if egging him into starting something. Dean waved a hand to interrupt the stare down.

“Back to the matter at hand, you two. If we’re going to try to take Rowena out, we have to know where she’s going to be, and we have to find something that can kill her. Right now, Y/N needs supplies from her place, so we have to figure Rowena’s got her place staked out. As for weapons, we have bullets with witch-killing brew in them for distance shooting and Molotov cocktails of the stuff for close attacks. I say, we try to kill Rowena at Y/N’s apartment. We go in, pack up as much stuff as we can, and when Rowena comes after us, we take her out. If we kill her, then Y/N goes back to her life. If we don’t kill her, then we’ll have everything she’ll need for an extended stay with us while we find something else that can kill her.” Sam listened to Dean’s plan and had to admit it wasn’t all that bad.

Crowley’s eyes nearly bugged out. “You’re going to risk this beautiful young woman’s life by trying to take out Rowena whilst getting supplies? Are you joking?” Sam looked at Y/N and wondered if maybe Crowley was right. He started listing in his head everything she might need, and what other ways there were to obtain them. He felt his face flush at the thought of buying her bras and panties, and found himself shifting in his seat as his mind wandered inappropriately until Dean interrupted his train of thought.

“Look, she needs clothes, she needs personal items, and I’m sure there are other things in her apartment that she’ll want that aren’t replaceable. If what we have works, Rowena’s dead, Y/N gets to go back to her life, and everyone’s happy. If it doesn’t work, then we have a start on finding something that will work, and Y/N has what she needs for an extended stay with us. Two birds with one stone. ” The table got quiet while everyone took a long pull from their respective drinks.

“Look, it’s either this, or she borrows clothes from us,” Sam replied sarcastically. Crowley rolled his eyes and made a disgusted noise.

“If that’s your solution, Moose, it’s no wonder your relationships all end in the cemetery. They’d rather die than put up with you.” Crowley turned to Y/N and gave her a smarmy smile that made Sam cringe. “Darling, if you ever get tired of Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber here, I’d gladly keep you safe, and in a manner to which a lovely thing like yourself should be accustomed. Just because you have a 300-year old witch on your tail doesn’t mean you need to live in a hole in the ground that barely has indoor plumbing. You deserve satin sheets and chocolates on your pillow.” Sam groaned inwardly, but tried to keep his cool on the outside.

Y/N smiled and squeezed Sam’s hand. “Thank you for the offer, Crowley, but I’m fine where I am.”

Sam admired her ability to hide the nervousness she had to be feeling right now. “Crowley, just tell us. Will you help us or not?” Sam glared at Crowley and realized he was now almost crushing Y/N’s hand. He forced himself to relax his hand while he waited for Crowley’s answer.

“I can get her in and out unnoticed. We pop in, she packs, we pop out, and nobody would be the wiser. Then, once she’s out of the line of fire, you two idiots can go after Rowena on your own time.” Crowley had taken Y/N’s refusal better than Sam expected, still giving her admiring looks and smiling sweetly. Sam stopped himself from squeezing Y/N’s hand any harder.

“If you can pop her in and out, you can pop all of us in and out, Crowley.” Sam glared at the demon in front of him while Dean backed him up.

“Sam’s right. We’re not letting her out of our sight until we’re sure she’s safe. I don’t care if you saved her life yesterday, I still don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Either we all go, or none of us go,” Dean said. Crowley pretended to be offended by Dean’s remark.

“Dean, you wound me.” Crowley shrugged and nodded his head, though. “But, I see your point. Fine, I’ll pop us in, you three pack whatever you can, and I’ll pop us back out. If we run into interference, though, you idiots better shoot first and ask questions later.” Crowley sighed deeply and overdramatically, then took a long pull from his drink. Sam looked over at Y/N to gauge her reaction to this plan. He never expected what came next.

“Crowley, thank you for everything you’re doing for me. I know you don’t have to, and you’re putting yourself on the line for me, so I want you to know that I appreciate it. And if there’s something I can do in return, let me know, and I’ll do the best I can.” Sam and Dean both jumped and started talking over each other. Crowley waved a hand and both men lost their voices, opening and closing their mouths like guppies. Sam felt panic wash over him, and he clutched at Y/N’s hand.

“What I’m sure you’re overgrown protectors are trying to say is that making such an offer to the King of Hell is never a good idea. Now, I like you, so not asking you to seal that particular agreement with a kiss pains me greatly, but I won’t. Not that it wouldn’t be fun making Moose watch. I appreciate the sentiment, though, and will someday hold you to it. In the meantime, let’s get this show on the road. I have an underworld to run.” Crowley waved his hand again and both Winchesters groaned as their voices returned. “Let’s take this outside, shall we?” Sam took a deep breath, and pushed away his worry over what Crowley might ask Y/N to do in the future. Now was not the time.

On the walk out of the bar to the parking lot, Y/N gave Sam and Dean a quick rundown of her apartment, and where they could find bags they could use for packing. By the time they were outside, they had a plan for getting as much as possible packed up as quickly as possible. When they got to the Impala, Dean handed a big bottle with a rag sticking out of the top to Sam, and then put a similar bottle into an interior pocket of his coat. When he slammed the lid of the trunk shut, Crowley snapped his fingers, and the four of them found themselves inside Y/N’s apartment.

Sam took a quick look around and wished he could spend more time looking over her things. Today was not the day, though. The plan was set in motion, and Sam grabbed bags from closets, handing them to Y/N and Dean, and then following Y/N as she grabbed items and handed them to him to pack. Dean cleaned out the bathroom, then joined them in the bedroom to pack clothes. Sam took a bag and went through the living room, grabbing pictures and photo albums and anything else that looked important. In less than ten minutes, they were done, and as Crowley raised his hand to snap his fingers, the front door banged open and a man with blood dripping down his cheeks growled at them. Crowley snapped his fingers, and he and Y/N disappeared. Sam looked around the room in shock, seeing the same flash of anger and shock on Dean’s face. What the hell?

The cursed man was advancing on the brothers, and Dean quickly shot him in the head. The man’s head flew back while he took a step back, but he didn’t fall. As he straightened out to take another step closer, Sam and Dean both put two more bullets in his brain. After standing there with a dazed look on his face for a long moment, the man finally fell. Sam did some quick math in his head to calculate the number of witch-killing bullets they had left, but didn’t get to finish before he saw Rowena’s wild red hair turning the corner as she entered the apartment. Sam started firing at Rowena while Dean pulled out his witch bomb and lit the fuse. Sam fired one, two, three, four times, and Rowena simply raised a hand, making the bullets stop just in front of her and then fall to the ground. Dean, seeing that throwing something directly at Rowena wouldn’t work, instead threw his bomb at her feet, reciting the incantation as he threw. Rowena was obscured from view by a cloud of flame and smoke. Sam held his breath while the smoke cleared, and then let it out as he saw Rowena still standing there. She looked slightly green, and was taking heaving breaths, but she was still standing. Sam felt fear rising up in his chest as he fully realized he was about to die. Rowena was standing in the doorway of the apartment, and if there was another exit, he wasn’t aware of it. Even if there was a fire escape somewhere, Rowena could throw a curse before they’d get out the window.

Sam watched Rowena raise a hand to him and Dean, and just as she began to speak, he blinked, and he and Dean were standing in the bar’s parking lot next to the Impala, Y/N, and Crowley.

“Is she dead,” Crowley asked with a smug smile on his face while Sam and Dean caught their breath.

Sam huffed, glaring daggers at Crowley. “No. She stopped the bullets before they hit her, and the witch bomb only slowed her down for a moment.” Sam watched as Dean straightened up and his face hardened in anger.

“What the hell was that all about, Crowley? Another second and we would have been witch food!” Dean took a step toward Crowley, and Crowley held up a hand, stopping Dean in his tracks. Sam suddenly saw the family resemblance between Crowley and his mother and frowned deeply.

“I figured you’d want to take a crack at Rowena, but with the lovely Y/N safely far away. I brought her to safety, then got you. Would you rather I left her with you?” Crowley had a subtle smirk on his face while he looked back and forth between the brothers. Sam felt bile rising up in his throat.

“Call me when you figure out how to kill the bitch.” Crowley snapped his fingers one more time and disappeared.

12 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 31

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 2441 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence, smut

You

Sam’s kiss almost threw you for a loop, but soon he had you moaning into his mouth and wanting more. You had completely forgotten what breathing was when he pulled his lips from yours. Your arms were around his neck as he held his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and groaning.

“Part of me still wants to tell you to run away from here, from me, and don’t ever look back.” You pulled your head from his just far enough that you could look into his eyes as you stroked his hair.

“What changed your mind?” You saw, as well as felt, the warring emotions on Sam’s face.

“Dean. He basically told me if I didn’t fight for you I might as well go play in traffic.” Sam smiled as you chuckled. “If we’re going to do this, though, then you have to promise that your safety will always come first.” The wave of fear that washed over you was intense. “If I say you have to do something, you do it, even if that something is you going away.” Sam’s voice choked off, and the fear intensified. You took a deep breath before speaking, stroking his hair gently with your hand.

“I can promise you that I will always talk to you about everything, and I will always respect your opinion as an experienced hunter. I have to admit, though, promising to leave when the going gets tough just isn’t in me, Sam. I’m not a child, and I will fight if I feel I need to.” You felt Sam channel all the desperation he was feeling into the kiss that landed on your lips. His hands went from on your back down to your ass, and before you knew what he was doing, his hands had lowered to your thighs. He picked you up easily, spreading your legs until you wrapped them around his waist. With his hands cupping your ass while he supported you, he kicked the door shut behind him and walked you over to the bed. You were only vaguely aware of what he was doing outside of his lips on yours and his tongue dominating your mouth. When he laid you down on the bed and settled on top of you, his elbows supporting most of his weight, he moved his lips from yours, trailing kisses down your jaw to your ear.

“You are going to frustrate the hell out of me, aren’t you, Y/N?” He was practically growling into your ear, and you felt the vibration go straight to your panties. As he placed open-mouthed kisses on your neck, he shifted his hips, and you suddenly felt the rock hard bulge in his pants as he ground it into your core. The moan you made was almost inhuman to your ears as a shot of heat spread through your body. You struggled to clear your mind enough to find words to answer him.

“That sounds like me, Sam.” Your words were cut off when he took your earlobe into his mouth and nibbled, tugging on it softly before finding another spot on your neck with his lips and tongue. You started moaning his name like a prayer as his hips moved against yours.

“Then I guess I’m just going to have to find ways to work out my frustrations,” Sam growled, then lifted his head to give you a half-serious, half-cocky expression before taking your mouth with his again. The feel of him all around you overwhelmed you, with his hands underneath your shoulders pulling you towards him and his hips trapped between your thighs grinding into you rhythmically. You pushed a hand deeper into his hair and tugged on it until he pulled his lips from yours with a groan. You pulled in a deep breath, trying to find words to express what you were feeling before you were completely lost.

“Are you sure, Sam?” Your voice was completely wrecked and your words were little more than breathy moans. “Can you be okay with me being here,” you pulled his head closer to you and kissed his jaw, “no matter how dangerous it might be?” Sam groaned and buried his head in your neck.

“I’ll have to be, because I’m not sure I could ever be okay again without you, now that I have you.” Sam’s lips were on your neck again, sucking and licking what you figured would be an impressive mark when he was done, but it felt too good for you to care. The growl in Sam’s voice made you dizzy as he worked his way down your collarbone, saying, “Mine” with each touch of his lips. When his lips reached the edge of your shirt, he rolled you both over so you were on top of him and then sat up. His hands quickly slid down your back, grabbed the hem of your shirt, and pulled it over your head. You worked at the top buttons of his shirt, but he quickly got impatient and pulled it over his head. You took a second to admire the vast expanse of muscled skin before you leaned in to taste it. Sam’s hands were huge and warm on your back as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra. You leaned back enough to give him space to pull it from your arms, and blushed at the lust-blown expression on his face as it sailed across the room. He didn’t give you a chance to try and cover yourself, simply taking a breast in each hand and kneading them. He looked into your eyes for a moment before he spoke.

“God, you’re so perfect.” One hand left a breast and slid up behind your neck to pull your lips to his again. His other hand slid around your back, pulling your hips closer to his until you moaned. He lay back down, with you on top of him, then rolled you both over again so he was once again on top. When he had you where he wanted you, his lips trailed down your neck to your chest, and he took one already hardened nipple into his mouth while his hand tweaked and played with the other. Your hands tangled in his hair as your back arched into him and you moaned his name again and again. You were panting hard, now, and started to wonder if he could make you come just from this and the pressure of his hips on your core. Sam’s lips met your mouth again for another desperate kiss, and you slid your hands down his back and into the back of his jeans. His hips jerked into yours as your fingertips pressed into the firm flesh of his ass, and he groaned loudly when the kiss broke and he arched upwards. You looked up at him as you bucked your hips up, pulling at his ass with your hands.

“Still too much clothing,” you groaned before his lips crashed down on yours again. He shifted so his hips were out of your reach, then trailed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, and settled for a moment at your navel. His lips vibrated against your skin as he spoke.

“I agree.” He opened your jeans, and pulled both them and your soaked panties down your legs. When you were completely uncovered, you shivered once in the cold air before he was pressed up against you, warming you with his hands and his mouth. His mouth was teasing your nipple again while one hand caressed your thighs, slowly opening them before teasing your wet folds with his fingers.

“You are so wet already, baby,” Sam groaned, as he worked two fingers inside of you. He rested his forehead on your chest while slowly working his fingers into you. Your hips started bucking and you wanted more. More of his mouth, more of his fingers, more anything, as long as it was him. “You’re going to feel so perfect around me,” Sam moaned into your chest before his lips took your nipple again and his thumb found your clit. Your nails were digging into his back, now, undoubtedly leaving scratches as you writhed beneath him. He had barely begun thrusting his fingers into you with a rhythm when your first orgasm slammed into you. You cried out his name as you fell apart around his fingers and clutched at his hair and his back. He gently worked you through it, moving his mouth up to your neck as you came down.

“I want to watch you do that over and over again, but I don’t think I could stand it right now.” He sucked on a spot by your ear as goosebumps spread over your body from his words. He slowly removed his hand from between your thighs, and you watched as he put his wet fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean. His hand went back to your breast, kneading gently, while he kissed you deeply so you tasted a little of yourself on him, then went back to sucking on your neck while you tried to catch your breath.

“Y/N, there’s so much I want to do to you, but I don’t think I can wait anymore. Do you have a condom in here, or do I have to figure out how to walk all the way across the hall to my room and back knowing you’re lying here all warm and beautiful?”

You voice was little more than a whisper when you responded, “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean if you’re clean.” Sam groaned into your neck and pushed the bulge in his jeans into your hip at your words. You reached a hand down his back into the back of his jeans again, and Sam almost jumped away. As an apology, he kissed you deeply, though he kept out of your reach.

“If you do that again, this is all going to end in a minute, and I’d really prefer not to come in my pants like a teenager.” Sam chuckled at your groan, then got up, removing his pants and his boxers in record time. You saw his arousal, and you reached to touch him, but he grabbed your hands and pinned them to the pillow above your head. “Like I said, I’d like this to last more than a minute.” He spread your legs apart and started kneeling between them as he spoke. “So, no touching for right now,” he paused long enough to give you a gentle kiss, “okay?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer before his mouth was on yours again, his tongue searching out yours. He let go of your hands, but you kept them where he wanted them, and you felt him smile as his lips left yours. You almost didn’t even hear what he said as he started to run both of his hands down your arms to your sides. “Good girl.” His hands cupped your breasts, kneading them for a moment. “So beautiful.” You moved your hips, trying to get closer to him, and he let go of your breasts so he could grip them firmly. “So anxious.” He smirked at you while he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs and pressed the rest of his fingers into the flesh of your ass.

“Sam….” Your voice was almost a whine, begging him to stop teasing you and do something. “Please, Sam.” He let go of your hips, but leaned back over you, fitting himself between your thighs, pulling one leg up and around his waist. His cock was now in line with your folds, and he shifted so the head hit your clit while the shaft slid against your wet slit, making you cry out. He rocked back and forth, teasing the both of you until you were begging continuously. He paused for a moment, then let go of your thigh to line to himself up and slowly enter you.

You stopped breathing until he was completely seated inside you, then let out the breath you had been holding. Sam’s lips met yours, and he groaned into your mouth.

“You feel better than I imagined. So good, Y/N.” He nibbled at your jaw and then your neck until you started moving your hips against his. He slowly started moving, with just gentle rocking at first, and then building to actual thrusts while he gripped your hip with one hand and supported himself over you with the other. “Oh, God, baby, you feel so good. You’re so beautiful. I’ve wanted you from that first moment I saw you and you fell into my arms. I’ve been going crazy dreaming about this moment, right here, with me inside of you making you feel good.” Sam’s words were punctuated with grunts and groans as his movements became more focused. You were feeling the warmth building in your core again at the feel of him inside you and at hearing his words.

“Sam, I’m close again…” you moaned, and he groaned in response, then moved his hand between you to your clit where he started rubbing circles to match his thrusts.

“I want to feel you, Y/N… I want to feel you come around me, baby. Let it go. Come for me.” Your vision went white and you saw spots as your second orgasm ripped through you. You cried out Sam’s name again, and felt his hips stutter as he came right behind you. You kept moving together without focus, working each other through it, until you finally fell apart, panting. Sam lay next to you, and pulled you to his chest while you both caught your breath. As he littered your face and neck with gentle kisses, you chuckled.

“Can I move my hands, now?” You smirked down at Sam, and then felt a spear of desire shoot through your belly at the flash of lust you saw cloud his eyes at your comment before he chuckled, too, and nodded. You wrapped your arms around him, tangling one hand in his hair, and the two of you spent a few minutes just indulging in lazy kisses. When he finally settled you next to him with a happy sigh, you took a moment to enjoy the sound of his heart beating in his chest next to your ear. You closed your eyes and basked in both the physical and emotional warmth coming from Sam.

“I’m so glad you decided to fight for this,” you said quietly. Sam moved a hand to your head and stroked your hair gently.

“So am I.”

10 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 29

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1741 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

Waking up the next morning, full of the knowledge that Sam loved you, was easy. Somehow, even in the windowless bunker, the day seemed brighter. Overnight, you had read into the time after Lucifer had risen. You now knew about the demon blood, and the idea that the Sam you knew had gone through all of that and come out the good man he was now just made you love him more. When you walked into the kitchen for breakfast with Dean, you felt like you were floating.

“Morning, sunshine! Good night?” Dean raised his coffee cup to you and smiled.

“Yeah. I read some more of those books, and got a little sleep.” You smiled shyly, feeling your face flush, even though there was no reason for it. Dean chuckled.

“I haven’t seen you this happy, well, ever. It can’t be because of those books. They’re darker than shit. How far are you, now?”

“Lucifer was freed, War was defeated, and you tried to get Cas laid.” You giggled and Dean chuckled. “Seriously? You tried to get him laid?” Dean tried to look serious but failed, making you laugh even harder.

“Seriously. Dude needs a woman. When he finally did get laid, she killed him over breakfast with his own angel blade.” Dean chuckled at your shocked expression, then shook his head sadly. “Yeah well. That’s a story for another day. I’m heading down to the dungeon to check on Sam. I’ll be back in a bit, and hopefully he’ll be with me.” Dean patted your shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen.

While you drank your coffee and ate your cereal, you wondered how the talk with Sam would go. Butterflies fluttered endlessly in your stomach until you gave up trying to eat and headed to your room. The only thing that would distract you from the impending talk would be the books. You settled down to read, and had gotten through a couple of chapters when there was a soft knock on your door.

“Y/N? It’s Sam. Can I come in?” Your heart jumped into your throat and you had to cough so you could speak.

“Yeah, Sam. Come in.” You put aside your phone with the reader app you were using to read as Sam walked in. He had obviously showered and changed, his hair still a little damp. He looked around nervously before sitting down in the chair by the desk. You felt the heat in your cheeks as you glanced up at him, then studied your hands. There was a long pause before Sam finally spoke.

“I, uh, I thought that you and Dean were, uh, you know.” You looked up at Sam and saw the same nervous flush in his cheeks that was on yours.

“God, no! Dean’s like the annoying big brother I never had.” You gave Sam a jokingly disgusted face and then smiled at his smile. “Besides, I kind of have a thing for his little brother.” You felt the heat increase in your face, which you hadn’t thought possible, and then saw the smile on Sam’s face get even bigger. “That’s why you shut yourself off and kept sending me static?” You felt your smile falter, and so did Sam’s.

“That was part of it. In the beginning, I just didn’t want you to have to deal with my feelings on top of everything else you were going through, especially when I didn’t even know what my feelings were. When I finally started to figure out that I liked you more than just as a friend, I kept seeing you and Dean together. I mean, you make Dean smile and laugh more than he’s done in years, and he warmed up to you so fast it made my head spin. Seeing you together on the couch, or laughing at private jokes, well, I was happy for the two of you, and I didn’t want to mess it up for you guys.” Sam shrugged and stared at his hands. You felt a myriad of emotions coming from him across the room: love, sadness, and fear were chief among them.

“Man, they don’t make men more perfect than you, do they, Sam?” Sam’s eyes flew to you as the burn took over his cheeks. He smiled shyly, then shook his head sadly.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m far from perfect,” Sam said quietly. You peered at his sad face and felt the rush of guilt wash over you. Reaching over, you grabbed his hand, and pulled him down so he was sitting on the bed next to you. You held one of his hands in both of yours, taking a moment to admire how big they were compared to yours. You rested your hands, with his nestled in between them, in your lap and looked up at him.

“Nobody’s perfect, Sam. But near as I can tell, you’re perfect for me, and that’s all that matters to me.” Sam’s gaze met yours, and then he hung his head again.

“I’ve done some really awful things, Y/N. Really awful. You can’t imagine….” You shook your head and when he wouldn’t look at you, you stood up and sat down sideways in his lap. You dropped his hand and put your hands on either side of his face. His arms wrapped around you to hold you steady on his lap. Your eyes searched his face for a long moment while you stroked his hair.

“I don’t believe that there’s anything you could have done that would be so awful that you couldn’t come back from it. It’s just not in you, Sam. You are a good man. You always do what you think is right, no matter what it costs you or how much it hurts. You were willing to let your brother live happily ever after with a girl you wanted. If that’s not a good man, I don’t know what is.” Sam was trying to shake his head, but your hands were stopping him. When you thought he might actually pull his head from your hands, you lowered your lips to his and kissed him.

The kiss was soft and gentle, but it was enough to stop Sam’s movements. His arms pulled you tighter to him, his fingers pressing into your skin. You pulled your lips away, but your foreheads stayed together. You nuzzled his nose with yours and smiled.

“I think I might be in love with you, Sam Winchester, and I will not allow anyone to speak badly about you, least of all you.” Sam pulled his head away from yours so he could look you in the eyes. A small smile played on his lips while his gaze flicked over your face and back to your eyes.

“I think I might be in love with you, too, Y/N,” he said quietly. You smiled at him and lowered your mouth to his again. Although this kiss started out chaste and gentle, it quickly deepened, with your mouths opening and your tongues dancing. One of his hands moved up to your neck and tangled in your hair while the other moved across your lower back, holding you close to him. When the kiss finally broke, Sam moved his lips down your jaw to your neck, setting off fireworks between your thighs. You gasped and clutched at his hair, not sure if you wanted him to do more or to stop. He stopped, simply burying his nose in your hair and clutching you close to him.

“I have wanted this for so long. To have you here.” Sam was almost mumbling into your skin as he spoke. He held onto you like he was drowning and you were his life jacket, and you rubbed his back and stroked his hair to soothe him.

“I’m here, now. For as long as you want me here.” Sam made a choked sound in his throat and suddenly pushed you away. You were still on his lap, but he pulled your arms from around him and held both of your hands in his. He spoke fiercely while staring at your entwined fingers.

“That’s the problem. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you anywhere near me or my life or any of the crap that comes with it.” Sam raised his head to look you in the eyes, and you could see all the love and the pain in his heart. “I want you out in the world, somewhere, far away from demons and witches, living a life that includes a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog. I don’t want you locked up in this bunker, or even worse, out on hunts with us, where anything can find you and hurt you.” Sam moved his hands to cradle your face while you felt the fear rolling off of him in waves. “I want you safe, alive, and happy, and I don’t see how you can be any of those things if you’re with me.”

Sam was breathing hard, and you found yourself breathing hard, too. Tears pricked your eyes and you took a deep breath before you responded.

“Safe is relative, alive is temporary, and I don’t see much happiness without you. The hours since I felt your feelings last night have been the happiest I’ve ever known, Sam. And being right here, in your arms, this is Heaven to me. Life is short and you lose people you love. I know that just as well as you do, but I refuse to let it take away whatever happiness I find. Now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you go, no matter what.”

Sam’s hands had dropped back to your waist while you spoke, his fingers pressing into your skin showing you the tension he was feeling. You slid a hand around his neck and brought him to you for a kiss. As the kiss deepened, his arms pulled you close again, his hands moving up and down your body. When you came up for air, he pulled your head into his shoulder and held you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t know what to do,” Sam mumbled. “I just don’t know.” He suddenly lifted you off of his lap, setting you down next to him on the bed, got up, and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. A long moment passed before you remembered to breathe.

10 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 9

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 824 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

When you woke up the next morning, you felt better than you had in ages. You were a little overly warm, and you slowly realized it was because you were wrapped up in Sam. He was on his back, his arm firmly around you, and one of your legs was tangled with his. Realizing that he was wearing far more clothing than you were, you felt your face flush. You were wearing only his shirt, nothing else, since everything else was in the laundry. You had considered asking if either of the men had pants that might come close to fitting you, but one look at their narrow hips and you had known better. You had curves, and there was no way your hips and butt would fit into anything they owned. So, you went without, and stayed covered in the robe. Until your nightmare. You couldn’t remember the details, only that you had been scared, and Sam was there to save you. Finding him there when you woke up had literally been a dream come true. You spent a moment enjoying the warmth radiating from the solid muscle you were surrounded by before yelling at yourself for indulging in fantasies. Really nice fantasies, now that you could feel him without three layers on, but they were still silly fantasies. Slowly, you worked to untangle your legs, and then freed the rest of yourself so you could get your robe and get up.

You found the bathroom again on your own, and the towels and supplies Sam had shown you the night before, and managed to shower and get dressed with your newly cleaned clothes. You made your way to the kitchen and found Dean nursing his coffee.

“Got any more of that, or am I on my own?” You smiled at Dean and he grinned back.

“Finally! I thought you’d sleep all day.” Dean waved at the coffee pot. “There’s more. Help yourself.” After you had your coffee and were sitting down, you felt Dean’s eyes on you. “Slept well?” When you looked at Dean, he was smirking at you like the Cheshire Cat. You felt your face flush and you hid yourself behind your coffee cup as you took a sip.

“You saw us?” You felt your ears start to warm, too, and wondered exactly how far this blush would go before it stopped.

“I saw Sam’s door was wide open, and yours wasn’t closed, so yeah, I peeked.” Dean pretended to be looking at the newspaper in his hands when you looked up at him.

“Nothing happened, I just had a nightmare.” Dean gave you a knowing look and started teasing you.

“If you say so, sweetheart.” Dean was almost giggling, now, and you smacked his arm playfully.

“Nothing happened! He just helped me sleep! I swear!” Dean was fully laughing, now, and so were you. Dean held both his hands up in surrender.

“I believe you! I believe you!” Dean winked at you and nodded, “If you say nothing happened, then I’m sure nothing happened.” Dean gave you a knowing look and then burst into laughter again when your blush somehow managed to deepen even more. You shook your head and smiled.

“You’re terrible, Dean. Just terrible.” Dean gave you his best grin and you laughed again.

Dean helped you get some lunch, and while you both ate, you discussed options for you to get clothes and other necessities. Dean thought that risking going to your apartment was the easiest way, even though Rowena would probably have the place watched. Since you had no idea what that meant, you told Dean you’d go along with whatever he decided. After you were both done eating, you did the dishes together, with you washing and him drying and putting away.

“Hey, Dean… are you going to forgive Sam for what he said yesterday?” Dean’s face went stony and his hands paused for a moment before they resumed drying the plate in his hands.

“I’m sure I will eventually, but I’m not sure today is that day.” Dean turned away from you to put away the plate, and returned your gaze when he turned back around. “It was a low blow and it was entirely uncalled for.” You washed the last dish, handed it to Dean, and dried your hands.

“Yeah, it was, and he knows it.” You sighed. “Only those who know and love you the best can dish it out like that. But even if you can’t forgive him just yet, can you at least let it rest and get past it?” Dean finished drying the dish and put it away. He hung up the towel and turned back to you with a sigh.

“I’ll try.” You smiled at him, then wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. He returned the hug, stroking your hair and giving you a quick kiss on the head before letting you go.

11 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 20

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1764 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

After Sam had gotten up and left so abruptly, you tried to concentrate on the file in front of you and Dean. The words kept swimming around in your field of vision, though, and when Cas got up and left, you gave up. Sitting back in your chair, you rubbed your eyes and sighed.

“I don’t know what his problem is, but I promise you, he’ll come around.” Your eyes flew to Dean’s, and the soft look on his face made you smile.

“I’d like to say I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not sure that would fly.” You gave Dean a weak smile and shook your head.

“Is he sending you bad vibes or something?” The confused, but caring, look on Dean’s face made you chuckle.

“Not exactly. He’s not sending me anything. For the most part, all I get from him these days is static. Just a gaping lack of anything, really.” You paused with a sigh. “Cas showed him how to close himself off so I can’t feel him. Cas said it was because Sam knows it can be exhausting, and he wanted to spare me what he could.” You shrugged sadly. “But it never bothered me. Cas is the only one that exhausts me. Feeling things from the two of you is actually kind of comforting.” Dean frowned at the sadness in your voice and pulled you awkwardly into his arms over the arms of the chairs.

“I’m sorry he’s doing that to you, sweetheart. I’m sure he’s got his reasons, no matter how wrong they might be.” Dean rubbed your back and took a deep breath. “I bet it hurts more since you’re falling for him, huh?” You stiffened in his arms, and then pulled away, avoiding his eyes.

“What? What makes you think that?” Dean let out a friendly huff and smiled.

“I’ve seen how you look at him over breakfast, or when the two of you are in here reading together.” You feel your face flush and you put your head in your hands.

“It’s so stupid. I feel like a teenager with a crush on a classmate.” Dean rubbed your back again and chuckled.

“It’s not stupid, Y/N. You can’t help how you feel.” You gave Dean a grateful look.

“If I would have been smart, I’d have fallen for you. You, I get. You are easy for me. Sam, he’s a riddle, wrapped inside an enigma, wrapped inside…well, normally I’d say a taco, but in this case…wrapped inside a hella got guy with great hair.” Dean laughed, but then put on a disgusted face.

“Dude, I don’t need to hear that my brother is hot, and that hair is on my to-do list.” Dean smiled at you. You pretended to be shocked and smacked him.

“Don’t you touch it!” Both of you dissolved into laughter and joking threats against each other as Sam and Cas returned to the room. You looked up at Sam and saw a flash of something before his face neutralized and he gave you a polite smile. Your heart ached at the smile, and the hand you had on Dean’s arm tightened. Dean patted your hand reassuringly before breaking apart from you.

“So, you nerds finally finished with the journals? Can the rest of us hear what crazy Uncle Lloyd had to say?” You smacked Dean again lightly, laughing at him. Dean flashed a cocky grin your way and then turned back to the other two, doing his best to make his face look serious. You could still see the twinkle in his eye and the tiniest hint of a smile, though.

“Cas went over what I did, and he made a couple of minor changes, but yes, we’re done.” Sam glared at Dean, and then pushed the journals and the notebook over to you. You stared at the pile of books with trepidation. Why did this make you nervous?

“Is there anything in there about me?” You looked at Sam with uncertainty, and got another polite smile in return.

“Well, there’s a lot of personal stuff in there about you when you were growing up after your parents died. I figured you’d rather read that stuff yourself, though. As far as your gift, and the Men of Letters is concerned, there’s a couple of things about that, too.

“He mentioned a little bit as you were growing up with him that he felt you pushing him. He says he always said no to pretty much anything you asked for to make sure he didn’t reward you for using your gift. He also talks about trying to hide things from you when you were so difficult to lie to.” You nodded and smiled.

“’Because I said so,’ was pretty standard in his house. It was a big change for me. My parents were always willing to explain everything to me. To suddenly live in a house where there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for the rules really freaked me out. It took a while before we found a middle ground. Or so I thought. Maybe it just took a while before the reasons were ones he could tell me about.” Sam and Dean both nodded with you.

“Your uncle did get into hunting a bit, but he really was a Man of Letters, not a hunter. His shop was a hunters’ shop. He sold whatever hunters needed, and helped hunters with research if they asked. He sold the shop and did his best to get out of the life when you came to live with him because he didn’t want you getting into it. After you were grown and you moved out, he got sucked back in, it seems.” Sam faltered, and so did the static, giving you a quick shot of sadness and guilt before the static returned. You felt Dean’s arm move to the back of your chair.

“Sam? Just say it.” The tone in Dean’s voice worried you, and the fear coming from Dean didn’t help. You watched Sam struggle to keep himself together, and felt the static breaking up just a little to let out more sadness and guilt.

“He started getting calls from hunters again around 2007 or so.” Sam paused and looked down at his hands on the table. “Right after we killed the yellow-eyed demon.” The wave of sadness that came from Dean was almost visible to you. He immediately hung his head and sighed.

“When the Devil’s Gate opened and all Hell broke loose,” Dean said, quietly. Sam nodded. You stayed quiet, not even knowing what to say.

“He started researching and doing what he could without his shop. He kind of became like Bobby, only quieter, and less involved with field work. He wasn’t in much demand until after the Apocalypse started. After that, he was pretty much back in it full time. Being a librarian, he had access to a lot of research materials, so he had tons of hunters calling him. When he died, he was researching a demon that apparently wanted to curry favor with Lucifer, so was taking out hunters. His MO was to make it look like a heart attack.” Sam’s face was stoic, but the static coming from him was pulsing.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. You looked at Dean, and studied the guilt coming from him.

“What is it, Dean? Just tell me.” Dean looked at you so sadly you felt your heart ache.

“We were there when the Devil’s Gate was opened. We closed it again, but not before hundreds of demons escaped.” Dean studied his hands, refusing to look at you. You looked at Sam, and he was also studying his hands, or possibly the table, you couldn’t be sure which one. Turning to Cas, he was the only one willing to even glance at you.

“What the Winchesters don’t want to say is that we are the ones responsible for the Apocalypse. There were 66 seals that needed to be broken to free Lucifer from his cage, which was the beginning of the Apocalypse. Dean unknowingly broke the first. Sam was tricked into breaking the last. I was working with Heaven and had my own part to play, as well. We eventually stopped it…well, Sam stopped it…but it sounds like there’s a chance your uncle may have been killed by a demon released from Hell through the Devil’s Gate. Either way, that demon killed your uncle to curry favor with Lucifer.” You looked from Sam, who appeared to almost be shaking to stay in control, to Dean, who rubbed a hand over his face, and back to Cas, who just looked beaten down.

“So, what the three of you are trying to make me believe is that it’s your fault?” You watched all three men flinch. “So, the demon that actually killed my uncle…he isn’t responsible at all?” All three men looked up at you. “Because it sounds to me like any number of demons had a hand in my uncle’s death. Can I hazard a guess that the yellow-eyed demon was the one that opened the gate?” Sam and Dean sort of nodded and shrugged, then definitely nodded. “And I’m guessing it wasn’t Mother Theresa tricking you two into breaking seals.” The brothers both smirked and shook their heads. “And last time I checked, wasn’t Lucifer kind of a bad dude?” Sam winced, but Dean smirked. “So, how is it your fault? ‘Cause I don’t see it.” Dean chuckled.

“Well, if you’re going to put it that way….” Dean smiled at you and shook his head. “Leave it to you to try and let us off the hook.” You took Dean’s hand in yours, and reached for Sam’s.

“I don’t blame either of you. Though someday I want to hear more about this.” Both men looked unhappy with that request, until Cas chimed in.

“Well, she could always read the Winchester Gospels. They could give her an accurate….” Cas was interrupted by Sam and Dean both yelling over him. You looked at all three men with a smirk.

“The Winchester Gospels, huh? Are those sold at my local book store, or will I have to look for them online?” Sam and Dean both groaned and covered their faces with their hands. Sam’s wall of static came down for a long moment, and what you felt was pure embarrassment coming from both of them. You chuckled and pulled out your phone, opening up a search window.

10 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 32

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1850 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

The few days after their first afternoon together were almost heaven. Sam found he could easily forget the dangers facing them when he was watching Y/N sleep curled into his side. No longer worrying about his mental library reduced his stress enormously, too. He still had moments where he was jealous of Dean and Y/N, but without fail, Y/N would always slip her hand into one of his and give it a squeeze. Y/N’s days were full. She was training with Dean in the mornings, spending an hour with guns and another two hours with hand-to-hand fighting, then studying Latin and mythology in the afternoons with him. When she declared her brain to be fried for the day, Cas would help her practice her persuasive talents. Sometimes she would ask Dean if she could practice on him, and Sam enjoyed watching Dean squirm as she would make him answer embarrassing questions. Sam sometimes wondered if she ever used her talents on him, but was afraid of the answer. When he finally got up the nerve to ask one day while eating lunch, he was pleased with her response.

“Never, Sam. I don’t want there to be anything forced or coerced about us. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us if I did. The emotional connection we have because of my gift is already a bit of an unfair advantage sometimes.” Y/N blushed, and Sam wondered what she meant. She moved closer to him, and then wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head on his shoulder. Automatically, his arms wrapped around her and he sighed happily. “What I mean by that is I can read you so easily, now, that I wonder if I react to your thoughts and feelings before you can even experience them. It must be a pain in the neck having me react to things you might not have even had the time to consider.” Y/N moved one of her hands down his back and slid it under his shirt. Sam felt a small spark of desire at the feel of her skin on his, and tried to focus on the conversation. Y/N pulled away just enough that she could see his face, but kept rubbing his back with her thumb. “See? I know what this is doing to you, but you’re not reacting to it.” Sam’s eyes widened. She could tell? “It doesn’t seem fair that I can feel what you feel before you even have a chance to decide if you want to feel it or act on it. The last thing I want to do is start pushing you to actively do things you don’t want to do.”

Sam’s mind reeled. He knew that she could feel his emotions since he let his wall down, but hadn’t realized she was so perceptive. Just as he was about to question her further, Y/N’s phone rang.

Both Sam and Y/N stared at her phone as it blared “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones and vibrated its way across the table. Sam looked at Y/N and Y/N shrugged.

“First of all, the only people who would call me right now are in this bunker, and second, that’s so not my ringtone.” Y/N approached the phone cautiously, then picked it up, showing Sam the caller ID. Sam sighed as he saw the incoming number. “666.” Sam took the phone from Y/N and answered the call, putting it on speaker phone.

“What do you want, Crowley?” Sam frowned deeply while Y/N’s eyes widened and her jaw went slack.

“Well, hello, Moose. I wasn’t expecting to hear your abrasive growling on Y/N’s phone. I was hoping she was smarter than to risk her life by taking up with you.” Sam felt the rage building up inside himself, and took a deep breath while Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“What do you want, Crowley,” Sam growled slowly, enunciating each syllable.

“My mother on a spit, but you already know that and have a plan in place for her, right? I mean, I know you haven’t just been twiddling Y/N’s thumbs for the past few weeks, knowing that my mother is out there planning all the different ways she’d like to carve the two of you up for Sunday dinner. Surely, by now you have dozens of ideas on how to take her out, considering the vast amount of resources you have in that clubhouse of yours, and you just forgot to tell me, right?” Sam felt his blood boil at Crowley’s words. They were nowhere with a plan for Rowena, but it galled him to admit it to Crowley. As he struggled to come up with a response that didn’t show Crowley how close to the mark his words had been, Y/N spoke up.

“Well, we’ve been trying to find something we can use on her without getting too close, and so far we haven’t found much. Short of trying to take her out with a sniper rifle when she isn’t looking and can’t block the shot, which we can’t be sure that a bullet could even kill her, there isn’t much we can do from a safe distance, and getting close risks her throwing a curse we can’t deflect. The witch killing spell didn’t work, and we’re sure it wasn’t a case of improperly chilled chicken feet, which is apparently a thing, so we’re back at square one. Anyway, Dean and I are starting to look for ways to bind or strip her powers, but we’re not sure that will do much.” Y/N paused while Sam marveled at her words. Dean and Y/N had been working on this without him? Where had he been? “I had a thought, but I haven’t mentioned it to the boys, yet, so I don’t know how stupid or impossible this idea might be.” Y/N gave Sam a worried glance before she continued. “I was wondering if there’s a way to negate all magic in a space. What I mean by that is, could we take a building, and basically hex it or ward it or something so that nothing magical could do anything inside of it? Then, we could lure her in there, she’d be powerless, and we could take her out like a regular human. Or, if guns and knives won’t kill her, we could at least chop her up into tiny pieces and then scatter the pieces around, you know? Even if she can’t die by bleeding to death or whatever, she’ll cause less trouble if she’s in pieces.” Y/N shrugged while Sam kept looking at her in wonder. So much for the kind-hearted, gentle woman he had fallen in love with. Y/N apparently had a badass streak in her, and Sam thought that was about the sexiest thing ever!

“What do you think, Crowley? I mean, do you think she could be killed like any other human if we could somehow strip her powers?”

“I think she’s evil enough that even without her powers she’d be fairly impervious. Let’s just say that if we could find a way to render her powerless, I’d love to take my time finding ways to make her wish she was dead, even if I can’t kill her. Let me know what you need from me to get it done. Oh, and Moose, let’s just say I’ll be more receptive if you let your little Mooselette do the talking. She’s definitely smarter, and much more pleasant, than either you or your brother. Cheerio, darling.”

Sam resisted the urge to throw the phone against the wall to watch it crash into a thousand pieces. So much for keeping Y/N away from Crowley. Sam carefully put the phone back on the table and sighed as Y/N wrapped her arms around his middle and rubbed his back.

“It’s okay, Sam. I can deal with Crowley. I get it now, you know, why he’s not public enemy number one. He is irritating, though.” Sam chuckled, then got back to the matter at hand.

“You and Dean were strategizing without me?” Sam tried to keep the hurt out of his tone, even though he knew Y/N could sense everything he was feeling. Y/N pulled away from his chest just enough that she could look up at his face and smirked.

“Actually, no. I was just making stuff up as I went along to keep him happy.” Y/N grinned and Sam barked out a laugh.

“Seriously? You just bullshitted the King of Hell?” Y/N shrugged as Sam stared at his girlfriend in amazement.

“Hey, no different than bullshitting anyone else over the phone. I’m not sure I’d get away with it in person, though. Crowley likes me. He likes you guys, too, though he’d never admit it. Crowley liking me means that I can finesse him a bit when I need to. Also, he doesn’t know how much I know about him, so it gives me an advantage. Honestly, he wants me to be his liaison with you, and I’m okay with that.” Sam couldn’t help but look at his girlfriend in awe. The confidence she had almost stifled the spike of fear that shot through him at the thought of her being Crowley’s bestie. Sam worked hard to shake it off, though. If anything proved how well she could stand up to Crowley, that phone call did.

“Anyway, you may have been bullshitting him, but those were some interesting ideas. When did Dean tell you about the chicken feet?” Y/N stifled a giggle and almost snorted with the effort.

“You mean when a spell fell afoul of foul fowl feet?” Sam rolled the phrase in his head for a minute before groaning with a wide grin. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” Y/N was trying to keep a straight face, but was obviously proud of herself.

“That was so bad, Y/N. Seriously.” Sam couldn’t help grinning and gave Y/N a gentle kiss, folding her into his arms and wondering what he ever did to be so lucky. His mind got brought back to the matter at hand when Y/N pulled away from him.

“Dean and I were talking one day when we were in the firing range. I was asking about the witch bomb you guys tried to use on Rowena the last time, and why it didn’t work. He was sure the chicken feet weren’t the problem, so killing her really isn’t possible, I guess. That’s when I started thinking about ways that would stop her, even if they wouldn’t kill her.” Y/N shrugged.

Just then Dean walked in and headed to the fridge to get out something to eat for his own lunch. While Dean ate his lunch, Y/N and Sam told him about Crowley’s phone call. The three of them started brainstorming ideas and strategies, and soon they had a plan in place. Dean called Cas while Y/N called Crowley, leaving Sam to sit and wonder if this plan could actually work.

“Crowley? It’s Y/N. We have an idea, and I think you’ll like it, but we’re going to need your help.”

9 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 5

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 2093 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

You were officially having your first rush since you opened the shop, and you heaved a sigh of relief in between customers. Opening a small business was always risky, but an occult bookstore was even riskier. You figured your uncle had closed his shop so he could have a steady income once he had to support you, and you didn’t blame him. You had missed his shop, but the change had made him more stable, which was what you had desperately needed.

As more customers wandered in, you noticed a scruffy-looking man enter dressed in work boots, torn jeans, dirty flannel, and an old army jacket. He wasn’t your typical customer, but seeing him made something click in the back of your mind. You were too busy with answering questions and ringing up purchases to think about it, though. Part of you kept an eye on him as he wandered around the store, taking his time looking at books and wind chimes that just didn’t seem his style. As the rush finally ended, he grabbed a couple of pieces of fulgurite and headed to the counter.

“I was wondering if you might have some other items in stock in the back for a friend willing to pay cash? I’ve got some, uh, special items I’m in need of, if you know what I mean.”

You looked at the guy and sighed. Did your uncle have to deal with these kinds of lunatics when he had his shop? You stopped the thought there, remembering how many people thought your uncle was, in fact, the local lunatic.

“I’m sorry, sir, but everything I have for sale is already out on display. I can maybe look into ordering something for you if it’s in one of my catalogs and I can call you when it comes in?” You pulled out a pile of catalogs from under the counter and looked up at the man. He had that same look of confusion on his face as every other weird customer that had come in here. Like they just couldn’t believe you didn’t carry things other than what was on your shelves!

“No, ma’am, I’m not talking about things you order in catalogs. Is the shop owner here, by chance?”

“I am the shop owner, and like I said, I only have what you see on the shelves. There’s no back room with more stock; this is it.” The man huffed and gave you a frustrated look like you just weren’t understanding him. Your stomach twisted nervously as you watched him. He backed away while the only other customer in the store approached the counter and paid for their items. Once they were out the door, he came back to the counter and tried again.

“Look, you’ve got the star in your window, so you know who I am and what I’m looking for. I’m willing to pay cash, so you’re not going to get scammed, here. I’m completely out of devils’ shoestring and angel feathers. Do you have any in stock or not?”

You stared at the man with eyes wide and mouth slack. How many different times did you have to tell him? And what did the star in your window have to do with any of it? Your thoughts felt scattered at his agitation, and you took a second to compose yourself before replying. As you began to speak, the bell over your door rang again, indicating another customer was coming in.

“Like I told you before, sir, I don’t have anything that isn’t on display and I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is devil’s shoestring? And angel feathers?” You shook your head and saw the man’s face turn red. Just as he was about to open his mouth, your new customer opened his.

You looked up, and up some more, and there was your handsome customer from yesterday. He grabbed the shoulder of the other man so he faced him, away from you.

“Hank, man, stop. She’s a civilian. She really doesn’t have anything here.” You stared at the tall man in confusion, and just watched the exchange.

“But, Sam, the star,” the shorter man gestured toward the shop window, “and, you know, here, near you. How can she not…?” His voice trailed off as he looked at the taller man, Sam, then looked back at you, and shook his head in confusion. Then he seemed horrified and started sputtering. Sam turned him towards the door, putting an arm around his shoulders. You heard what he said next, but just barely.

“C’mon, man. Call Dean, tell him what happened here, tell him what you need and he’ll see if we have any we can spare and meet you at the bar.” Hank threw another worried glance at you over his shoulder and then let Sam push him out the door. As the door closed, Sam sighed, then turned around to face you. “I bet you have a lot of questions. Can we talk?” Now that the other man was gone and Sam was facing you, you felt your breathing ease up a bit. You nodded dumbly, then sat down on your stool behind the counter. “Um, I hate to cost you business, but can we close up shop for a little while and do this somewhere a little more comfortable? This might take a while.”

“Sure. We can go in the back room. I have some coffee sitting back there, if you don’t mind it being strong enough to melt a spoon.” You were still feeling a little dazed and you felt words coming out of your mouth with little to no feeling of control over them. Sam nodded, and you locked the door, put the closed sign up, and led him back to your back room.

In the back room, which was just big enough for a hot plate, sink, mini fridge, and a table for two, Sam sat down and you poured coffee for both of you. Though he seemed uneasy, something about him calmed you. Your brain kept shooting off alarm bells, but you felt your body relaxing, anyway. After you had settled down and had a sip, Sam finally spoke.

“My name’s Sam Winchester.” He held out a hand for you to shake, which you stared at for a moment before reaching for it with your own.

“Y/N Bowen. I’d say nice to meet you, but I think I’ll wait until after you tell me whatever it is you’re about to tell me.” You paused, looking down at your cup for a moment. “That man, and you, and at least one of the other customers that came in here asking for weird stuff, all mentioned the star in the window. That star is more than just something my family thought was pretty, isn’t it?” Sam looked at you sadly and sighed.

“Yes. It is. Y//N, your grandfather, and mine, were members of a group called the Men of Letters. The Aquarian Star was their crest. They investigated, and documented everything about the supernatural. Everything you read about in your uncle’s books is real, and they were kind of the librarians of the supernatural world. They worked with hunters, who take a more active role.” Sam cleared his throat and looked down into his coffee cup. “Hunters go after anything that, well, goes bump in the night, and take care of it. The Men of Letters worked with hunters, supplying information, tools, and other supplies the hunters needed to do their jobs. Having that star in your window tells hunters that you know what they are and you sell what they need.”

Sam paused, watching your face as you processed everything he told you. You took a deep breath and let everything he said wash over you. Your uncle’s books weren’t hard to read, just boring, really, though they talked about vampires and werewolves and ghosts. Well, until you factored in the idea that they were real. Suddenly, everything you had read seemed far less boring.

“So, vampires, werewolves, demons…they’re all real?” You gazed at Sam with eyes wide. Sam nodded.

“Did your uncle’s books talk about anything else?” Sam’s voice was quiet and gentle, but his words were still alarming. Your eyes flew to his.

“You mean, there’s more??” You felt your jaw hang slack. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Oh yeah. Lots more. Ghosts, angels, djinn, kitsune, gods, you name it. It’s all out there.” Sam paused, watching you think.

“And these Men of Letters, they, what, catalogued and experimented on them? And my grandfather was one of them?” Sam nodded. “How do you know that?”

“I went through the records and found some Bowens mentioned. I did a records search and matched the Bowens in the Men of Letters records to you.”

Just then, you heard a noise from the shop. Sam jumped up, reached behind his back, and pulled out a gun from the waistband of his pants. As he approached the door to the front of the shop, he motioned for you to stay behind him and stay quiet. Your brain fired more warning shots at you, screaming about a gun casually hidden in a waistband, but you told your brain to shut up. As he flung open the door, gun held steady in his hands, you saw a well-dressed man with a beard and short, dark hair standing in the open doorway. He smirked at Sam, and you watched Sam relax just a fraction.

“Crowley? What are you doing here?” You stayed behind Sam, peeking around him just enough to see the smug look on the newcomer’s face.

“Oh, c’mon, Moose. Put the gun down. You know it’s not going to hurt me, so why bother?” Sam sighed and put the gun back in the waistband of his pants, but kept you behind him.

“What do you want, Crowley? Why are you here?” You heard Sam huff angrily.

“Grab the girl, and get her back to your Batcave, pronto, or you’ll both be yesterday’s news.” Crowley turned to walk back towards the shop door, but stopped when Sam spoke again.

“What’s going on, Crowley? How do I know this isn’t some kind of trap?” Crowley stopped and turned back to Sam.

“Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’ Well, you’re in luck, today, Moose, because my mother didn’t appreciate your little bondage scene in the warehouse. Apparently whips and chains actually don’t excite her, after all. And now, she has the Book of the Damned, the codex to read it, and she wants you dead. So, as much as I might dislike you, I want her dead more, which means I need you alive. She’s been watching you, waiting for you to leave the protection of your little underground clubhouse, and knows about this one, here. She was going to just take this one and trade her for you, but, no, you’re here, too. You being here is just making her job easy, so stop standing there like a simpering idiot, grab the girl, and get the hell out of here!!”

You saw Crowley’s eyes turn red with small tendrils of red smoke appearing to wisp around them, and you gasped in fear. Crowley turned around and headed back to the front of the store, stopping by the door. Suddenly, your hand was engulfed in Sam’s, you quickly grabbed your purse, and you followed him to the front of the store. Just as you expected them to open the door, you saw Sam look at the books in the display case. Quickly, he ran behind the counter, broke the glass of the case, and grabbed as many books as he could hold. You picked up an almost empty box of pillar candles, dumped it out, and pushed it towards Sam. He dumped the books in the box, grabbed the pictures from the wall, and you both headed for the door. Crowley went out the door first, looking both ways before stepping out of the way. As you followed Sam to a beautiful black classic car, you heard Crowley’s voice behind you.

“Hello, Mother. Fancy meeting you here. What brings you to this end of nowhere?”

As you turned your head to see who Crowley was talking to, your vision was blinded by the light of a massive explosion. You felt yourself lifted off the ground and sent flying towards Sam’s car. Pain bloomed in the back of your head before darkness overtook you.

13 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 13

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1929 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

When you woke up the next morning, you were disappointed to realize that you were alone. You had been having a really good dream of strong arms and large, warm hands on your body before you woke up to cold sheets and an empty bed. He’s got better things to do than cuddle with you, Y/N. When you ran into him as you came out of the bathroom, you found out where he had gone. Apparently, Sam liked to run in the mornings. When you ran into him, literally, he was soaked in sweat, wearing a tank top that showed off the muscles in his shoulders and arms, and shorts that gave you an excellent view of his legs. The shirt was stuck to him in all the right places, too, especially after you slammed into him coming around the corner. Your eyes kept traveling up and down while your mouth stumbled over apologies. Sam gave you one of his disarming smiles that made your heart flutter, and just walked around you to head to the shower. That left you just standing there, jaw slack, eyes wide, and breathing erratic. When the door to the bathroom clicked shut, you finally got your body to start moving again, and you returned to your room, shutting the door behind you.

You fell against the door with a sigh as a vision of Sam’s body danced in front of your eyes. You remembered what it felt like to be pressed against that body in bed, and felt your cheeks flush. God must have worked overtime to make such a fine specimen of manhood as Sam Winchester. After letting your thoughts return to your dream, adding in the view you had just gotten, your body started to wake up, and you felt the flush in your cheeks spread everywhere. You sat down on your bed, grabbed a book, and fanned yourself while thinking of anything but Sam Winchester.

Distracting yourself with mundane tasks, such as getting out clean clothes for the day, helped you cool down, until you met Sam coming out of the shower as you were heading in. Clad only in a towel around his waist, you weren’t sure you even said anything comprehensible as you passed by him. Even though you knew the Men of Letters bunker had copious amounts of hot water, you took the coldest shower you could stand. Once you were clean and dressed, you felt more in control of yourself, and vowed to keep it that way.

After a pleasant breakfast with Sam, thankfully minus all the sexual tension since he was wearing his usual three layers again, you both headed into the library to do some research on how to deal with Rowena. Well, Sam was going to give you a book to read about witches, and if anything made sense to you and sounded reasonable, you were to tell him. You had doubts that you would be much help, but you wanted to try.

As the two of you entered the library, you saw a strange man with messy, dark hair sitting and talking with Dean.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said as he sat down next to Dean. Cas greeted Sam, then looked at you. Well, to say he looked at you would be putting it mildly. He peered at you with squinty eyes for a long moment, tilting his head to the side, and then relaxing with a smile. Dean decided to make the introductions.

“Cas, this is Y/N, the girl Sam sent you the message about. Y/N, this is the angel we mentioned, Castiel.” Cas stood, and you reached out a hand to shake. He took your hand, and you felt a flow of warmth spread through your body. Every muscle that had been tensed relaxed, and you felt more peaceful than you had in a long time. When the angel let go of your hand, you felt the warmth and peace fade, and you landed heavily in the chair next to his. You looked up at him, since he was still standing, and got lost in the extreme blueness of his eyes. A wave of concern washed over you as the angel sat down next to you. Your eyes were wide open, and his gaze seemed to draw you in. You finally let go of a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, and hesitantly put your hand on his.

“It’s okay, Castiel. I’m fine. Just a bit overwhelmed. Sam and Dean must be used to that, I guess.” You saw Castiel’s head tilt and the questioning look on his face, but missed the looks the brothers gave to each other. The angel continued studying you while the brothers sputtered.

Sam walked around the table to you while both he and Dean talked over each other to ask you what had happened and what you were talking about. You felt Sam squat next to you and take your hand in his, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the angel.

“That feeling. That rush of, of, warmth and peace. I’ve never felt anything like that before. You guys must be so used to it you don’t even notice it, anymore.” You finally tore your eyes from the angel’s, and looked at Sam. Sam was looking back and forth between you and Cas with concerned confusion in his eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You felt something?” Sam questioned you while you looked back at Castiel, and Cas studied you. As you nodded, Cas smiled, and you felt another wave of warmth pass through you. “Cas, is that related to her head injury? We didn’t think she was badly injured….” Sam’s voice trailed off as he watched you and Cas.

“Y/N is an empath.” Cas seemed very pleased with this news, but you and the brothers both looked at him with alarm.

“I’m a what?” You shook your head, and then chided yourself for asking the question, because you knew what an empath was, but there was no way you were an empath. That was ridiculous! “I mean, I know what an empath is, but what makes you think I’m one?”

“Only a human sensitive to the feelings and energies around them could have felt what you felt when we touched. You must be an empath.” The look you were giving the angel was incredulous.

“You mean, not everyone feels that?” You looked at the brothers, and both shook their heads. “I mean, I always knew I was sensitive to things,” you said as you looked at Sam, “I get overwhelmed in crowds and I don’t always deal well with loud or repetitive noises, but an empath?”

“What exactly is an empath, Cas? Apparently, I’m the only one in the dark, here,” Dean said.

“An empath is sensitive to energies around them. Specifically, the feelings of others around them. There are a lot of empaths in the world who never know their full potential because they discredit their gifts. All it takes is being told they’re wrong about what they’re feeling a few times for them to believe that they’re wrong, and so their gift never develops.” Cas looked back at you sadly, and you felt sadness wash through you. “Is that what happened to you?”

You realized that you were clutching Sam’s hand, but you didn’t make a move to let go, and neither did he. You were glad, because it felt like his hand was the only thing grounding you. You glanced over at him, and he was staring at you with wonder and concern. You tore your eyes away from his, and looked back at Dean and Cas.

“I’ve always thought it was just wishful thinking on my part. That what I felt was what I thought someone else would feel, but not necessarily what they were actually feeling, you know? I’ve always been a human lie detector for people I know, but that’s nothing special.” Cas tilted his head and narrowed his eyes again.

“An angel is easier for an empath to read because we’re just energy in a vessel. Let’s do an experiment, shall we?” You nodded, and you watched the angel’s face neutralize. For a moment, you felt nothing but your own trepidation.

When the laughter hit you, you thought you’d fall out of your chair. It wasn’t a chuckle, it was all-over, whole body laughter that brought tears to your eyes. Suddenly, everything in the room was just funny as hell, including the looks on the faces of the brothers, and you actually snorted before you got yourself under control again. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself a bit, but the smile was still tugging at the corners of your mouth.

The smile faded quickly, though, as a wave of confusion swept over you. You looked at Cas, trying to read his face, but his expression hadn’t changed. Sam tugged on your hand.

“What are you feeling, Y/N?”

“Confusion. Like I’m in a foreign country in an outdoor market and nobody speaks English, but everyone is trying to get me to do something.” As you finished speaking, the confusion passed, and you took a deep breath. What hit you next put butterflies in your stomach and made your breath hitch. You smiled, and searched Cas’s face again, though his expression still hadn’t changed. You looked from Dean to Sam and felt your heart clench. Love. Like the love you had for the boy who gave you your first kiss. It was exciting, and scary, and exhilarating all at once. Sam was still watching your face, and he smiled.

“What is it this time, Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Young love. Like high school sweethearts or engaged couples. That scary, nervous, exciting kind of love when everything is new.” Dean smiled at your response, and you grinned back at him.

Your smile faded quickly, though, as Cas pushed yet another emotion at you. Guilt. You glanced at Cas again, but his face still hadn’t changed. You shook your head at him, but the feeling just evolved into sadness and more guilt.

“Please, Cas. Move on.” You shut your eyes before the tears that were threatening could fall. Abruptly, your breathing eased and you were back to warmth, comfort, and peace. You took a few deep breaths and opened your eyes to see Cas smiling gently at you. He took your other hand in his, and the feeling of warmth and peace intensified, and you almost felt drowsy with it. With his free hand, he brushed a lock of hair from your face, leaving his fingers at your temple for a long moment. Suddenly, you heard his voice inside your head.

“The Winchesters will not deal well with an empath here. They don’t deal with their emotions, and instead, choose to push them aside. Be gentle with them, and trust your gift, because they will deny their feelings when pushed. I’ll help you as best I can, both with your gift, and with them.” You nodded at Cas, and ignored the questioning looks the brothers gave you. Cas let his hand drop from your temple.

“Y/N should rest, now. I most likely just overloaded her systems, I fear.” Cas let go of your hand and backed away from you.

“That sounds like a good idea. I am kind of tired, now.” You looked at the three men, and smiled. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.” You stood up to leave, and as you turned around the darkness overtook you.

10 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 11

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 2236 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

Once you and the brothers had returned to the bunker and unloaded the car, they left you alone to unpack and get settled in to your room. They had questioned you about your time alone with Crowley, and you assured them he hadn’t hurt you in any way. As you emptied bags into drawers, you went over the events of the past 24 hours in your mind. Impressions and feelings flitted through you as you reviewed your talks with the brothers and with Crowley.

Your heart to heart with Dean the day before, short as it was, had made a huge impression on you. As you had approached him, you somehow knew he blamed himself for everything, he loved Lisa and Ben like he loved his brother, and losing them had been as painful for him as losing your family had been for you. When you took his hand, your heart just broke for him, and when he had hugged you, you pictured in your mind that were trying to glue broken pieces of a beautiful crystal bowl back together. Something told you that you and Dean could be close friends, if time allowed. Breakfast this morning had only reassured you of that.

Your time with Sam was different. Something about Sam just screamed warmth and safety to you. The fact that he’d been your savior both in real life and in your dream told you that. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, too. Oh, and not to mention a wonderful sleeping partner. There was something more there, though. What you already felt with Dean was clear and easy. Sam, however, seemed like a slightly tougher nut to crack. Although you thought he liked you, especially since he came running when you cried out in the night, he did seem awfully anxious about the idea of you sticking around.

And then there was Crowley. What a dichotomy of impressions you had of him. On the one hand, he’s the freaking King of Hell, a demon, and completely malicious and untrustworthy. Your brain kept chanting that over and over again while you sat in a booth at a bar with him. Demon, demon, demon. But when he sat down and chatted politely with the brothers, you had a hard time seeing him hurting the Winchesters. Honestly, if he weren’t the King of Hell, or even a demon, you would have quite liked him. Up until the point where he rescued you and left the brothers alone with Rowena, that is. When you had realized what he had done, you had scolded him, which only made him smile. He had chuckled as he told you that his plan was to let the boys try to kill Rowena, while keeping you out of harm’s way, and maybe using you as a hostage in the future to keep the Winchesters on task. If they lived. Part of you had wanted to yell at him and demand he rescue the Winchesters, but part of you knew better. So, you asked him nicely.

“Please, Crowley. Please bring them back here.” You had grabbed his arm with both of your hands and looked into his eyes with your heart on your sleeve. “Please don’t leave them there alone.” Crowley had gotten a strange look on his face, then he seemed to soften towards you. His gruff, sarcastic, evil exterior melted a bit, and he had almost smiled at you. He took a deep breath, shook his head with a sigh, and snapped his fingers. As the Winchesters had appeared next to you, you had smiled at him, earning you an almost confused smile in return before his usual manner returned and he faced the two men.

The whole exchange brought up so many questions and feelings. The King of Hell saved the Winchesters simply because you said, “please.” Or, at least, that’s what it seemed like. Were demons just that rude to their king that a little polite kindness had him melting all over you? The whole thing didn’t make sense.

Late in the afternoon, you opened up the final bag of belongings and stopped in surprise. Photo albums, picture frames, and a few of your favorite books were inside. You knew you hadn’t packed these items, and you certainly wouldn’t have included them in a list of necessary supplies, though you were glad they were there, so who did? As you carefully set up the picture frames on the long shelf above the bed, Dean walked in.

“You getting all settled in okay?” Dean was smiling when you turned around. “Is there anything we missed, or anything we need to pick up at the store?”

“I’m good. Everything’s here that I can think I’d need, and more. Were you the one that packed this bag?” Dean looked at the contents and shook his head.

“Nope. The only books I would have grabbed were cookbooks.” Dean shrugged and grinned. Sam did it. Sam thought to save the irreplaceable. You smiled, then pulled your thoughts back to the conversation.

“Then you would have been disappointed. I’m not much of a cook. I can follow a recipe, but I don’t have the talent my mom did to just whip something up out of nothing.” Dean shrugged again.

“No biggie. We do a lot of take out around here, when I don’t feel like cooking. Sammy’s good with grilled cheese sandwiches and salads, but that’s about it. Speaking of, you okay with burgers for dinner? You’re not vegan or anything, are you?” Dean looked absolutely horrified at the prospect, making you laugh.

“Oh, no! Burgers sound great! I love a good burger, and some pie.” You grinned, and Dean’s face lit up for a moment before he gave you a serious look.

“Hey. No stealing my pie. You’ll have to get your own.” Dean shook a finger at you and you laughed.

“Then you better not leave your pie unattended!” You laughed while Dean’s face got overly serious and he cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Nobody touches my pie.” You raised your hands in surrender and he smiled. “Anyway, I’ll go start dinner, so be ready to eat in a few.”

“Mind if I follow you? This place is like a maze. Leave me to myself, and you might never see me again!” Dean smiled and nodded, and you followed him out the door. On the way through the hallways, you considered the man next to you again. Yes. Clear, open, and easy. As long as you don’t eat his pie.

Over dinner, you chatted with the brothers about the Men of Letters and your uncle some more. Sam and Dean both couldn’t believe you had read the books and still didn’t believe.

“Sam, I bet those books are about transgender issues in pregnant shape shifters or digestive tract anomalies in vampires or something ridiculous like that. I mean, I can believe she thought they weren’t real.” You smiled at Dean while you swallowed.

“One is about dermatitis in werewolves, and another has to do with demonic healing properties as related to poor vision and dental decay. Seriously, I thought they were some kind of alternative writing style for really boring horror stories.” Both brothers chuckled while they ate. “I was never able to read my uncle’s journals, though. They’re in some kind of shorthand. I don’t know if the Men of Letters had a secret language or what, but I could never make heads or tails out of anything he wrote. It’s definitely not English, though.” Dean waved at Sam while he spoke.

“Sam’s your man, there. He gets all nerdy about languages and old books, don’t ya, Sammy?” Sam gave Dean a solid bitch face. Dean put a hand up by his mouth as if Sam couldn’t hear him, and whispered loudly, “Dusty books in dead languages are better than porn for him.” Dean smirked while Sam cried out and threw his napkin at Dean. You giggled and tried not to stare at Sam’s face as it turned bright red. You tried to settle your face into a reassuring smile and put a hand on Sam’s arm.

“It’s okay, Sam. I owned a bookstore for a reason.” You gave him a wink, and his face somehow got even redder, but a small smile played on his lips. You found yourself staring at that smile for a moment too long, and took a swig of the beer you were drinking as you pulled your hand back. You dug back into your burger as Dean picked up the conversation again.

“I can see how those books wouldn’t convince you that the supernatural is real, but you owned an occult bookstore. If you didn’t believe in otherworldly stuff, what did you believe in?” Normally, questions about your beliefs made you uncomfortable, but coming from Dean, it seemed completely natural and safe.

“I know a lot of folks assume that an occult bookstore owner is automatically a Wiccan, or a psychic, or something like that, but I’ve always been on the skeptical side. I started the store after my uncle died because he had a store just like it before my parents died. I loved that store. I’d spend time there after school, and he put me to work during the summers. When there wasn’t much work to do, I’d read the books. I could always tell that he didn’t think much of most of the books he sold, so I took it all with a grain of salt. Astrology, spirit boards, and love potions all got disinterested sniffs from my uncle, so I laughed at the books and such and moved on. What I do believe in, at its most basic, is energy. I believe everything and everyone has energy. Some people can see it, as in auras, some people can interpret it better, like psychics, and I believe everyone can feel it, to one degree or another. Anything else I believe in stems from that.” Sam and Dean both nodded thoughtfully, and then Sam huffed with a smile.

“I’m not sure about astrology, but spirit boards and love potions are real.” Sam’s smile turned into a frown and Dean looked startled at Sam’s statement.

“Really?” You weren’t sure you wanted to make Sam tell whatever stories he was obviously referring to, but you were deathly curious.

“Sam got whammied by a love potion once. He even married her while under the influence.” Dean chuckled. “That was an interesting Vegas trip!” Dean chuckled and Sam flushed again.

“The marriage was never consummated, and we had it annulled immediately after taking care of the demon responsible,” Sam assured you quickly. Dean finished chewing a bite of his burger, and looked at Sam questioningly.

“I forget, did Pamela use spirit boards?” Sam swallowed hard and shook his head.

“Not Pamela. Another psychic I used once had one on the table, but didn’t use it.” Sam took a deep breath. “Remember just before Dad died? When you were in the coma?” A shadow passed over both of their faces and your heart ached for both of them.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said quietly. Sam cleared his throat.

“Dean was in a coma, but I was able to talk to him with a spirit board. My guess is, if you’re not psychic, then you probably can’t control who answers when you use a spirit board, but something will answer.” You nodded.

“Speaking of spirits, what about ghosts? I mean, they’re energy, so I’ve always believed in ghosts. I’m half afraid you’re about to tell me the one thing I do believe in doesn’t exist.” You chuckled, and the brothers chuckled, too, lightening the mood.

“Yes, ghosts are real. But they’re usually not nice. The longer they hang around, the angrier and more vengeful they get. You have to salt and burn their bones, or whatever they are attached to in order to get rid of them.” Dean finished off his dinner and his explanation with a smile. “And on that note, I’m off to do some reading about how to kill a 300-year old witch in spite of the fact that she’s got her paws on the most powerful book of evil crap ever created. I cooked, you two clean, and I’ll see you all in the library later.” Dean got up and left the room, resting a hand on your shoulder as he walked behind you. You smiled up at him and covered his hand with yours for the half second it was there.

You and Sam cleaned up the dishes in a silence that was almost companionable. You felt like Sam was distracted by something, but you guessed it was the situation with Rowena, so you didn’t ask.

That night, you had another nightmare, and again, Sam was there to comfort you. As you settled into the warmth and comfort of his arms, you ignored the tiny voice inside your head telling you that this was a mistake. That someone as handsome and brave and all-around wonderful as Sam could never like someone as simple and plain as you. That feeling these feelings would only complicate what had already become a very complicated life. As you snuggled into Sam’s side, his arm firm around you and your head on his chest, you breathed in the comforting scent of Sam and felt yourself immediately falling asleep.

13 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 6

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1027 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

As he was throwing the box of books into the back seat of the Impala, Sam heard Crowley toss his opening salvo at Rowena. Sam turned his head just time to see Y/N’s shop explode, and Y/N go flying through the air. A piece of debris bounced off the back of Y/N’s head just as she landed on the ground at his feet. Sam scooped Y/N off the ground, tossed her in the front seat of the car, and pushed her to the passenger side as he slid behind the wheel. The car started easily, but Sam still dropped a string of curses as he sped away from the scene.

When he was a block away, Sam’s cell phone rang. Sam picked it up, giving Y/N a worried glance.

“Dean?”

“Sammy! What the hell was that? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, but Y/N is hurt. It’s Rowena. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m at the bar with Hank, and suddenly we heard a big explosion and everyone is headed down the street towards where you said Y/N’s shop was. Hank gave me the box, I gave him what he needed, and we were just having a beer and catching up.”

“Good. Get back to the bunker ASAP. I’ll explain when we get there.”

“Okay.”

Sam hung up his phone and shoved it back into his jacket pocket. He looked over at Y/N and tried to assess her injuries without taking his eyes off the road for too long. He didn’t see any blood, so that was good news. He sent up a prayer to Cas while he drove, in between glances over her form.

When he pulled into the bunker, he looked to see if Dean had beat him back, but there was still an empty spot in the garage. Sam pulled Y/N out of the car and carried her to one of the empty bedrooms. He laid her on the bed, took off her shoes, and then grabbed a blanket from his own room to cover her. He looked over her as best he could, finding only minor scrapes on her arms and legs, but a nasty bump on the back of her head. He found no blood, and looking in her eyes, he didn’t think she had a concussion. As he sat down on the desk chair to watch over her, he heard Dean’s footfalls in the hallway and ran out to meet him. Sam shut the door most of the way and motioned to Dean to stay quiet.

“What the hell happened out there, Sammy? One minute you’re meeting Hank and hitting on a girl, the next minute I’m calming Hank down with our last two angel feathers and a shot of whiskey before telling him to get the hell out of town if he wants to avoid the fallout!”

“I got to the shop and Hank was pushing Y/N to sell him stuff, like we figured was going to happen sooner or later. I pulled him back, told him to call you and I’d handle Y/N. I sat her down, and was giving her the whole ‘monsters are real’ talk, telling her about the Men of Letters, when Crowley showed up.”

“Crowley??” Dean’s eyes widened and his eyebrows hit the ceiling. “What the hell was Crowley doing there?”

“Apparently, saving our lives.” Dean took a step back in surprise. “Yeah, that was my reaction, too. He said something about ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ told us Rowena had planned on using Y/N to get to me, but since I was there, she was just going to kill us both, and we had to run. So, we ran, and Crowley slowed her down enough for us to get out of there. As we were getting away, Y/N’s shop exploded. She’s got a nasty bump on her head, but otherwise she seems okay. She’s still out cold, though.”

“Crap, Sammy, I’m starting to think that dating you really is a death wish!” Dean smirked and Sam gave him his best bitch face.

“Dean, we barely know each other. Now, shut it before she wakes up and hears you.” Dean pointed at the door and gave Sam a questioning look. Sam nodded grimly, and watched Dean peek his head into the room. Dean stuck his head in for a moment, then stepped back out.

“Damn, Sammy! She’s hot! Well, what I can see of her is hot. Why’d you say she’s not my type?” Dean smirked, earning himself another bitch face from Sam.

“She owns a book store, Dean, and you hate to read.” Dean shrugged at Sam’s words and flashed a grin.

“Hell, for her, I might consider changing my ways.” Dean chuckled. Sam grimaced.

“I’m going to hang out in there until she comes around and make sure she’s okay.” Sam peeked in the room and saw that Y/N hadn’t moved. Dean turned to go, but Sam stopped him. “Hey, there’s a bunch of books and journals in the back of the car. Can you bring them in here? They’re hers, so they should be with her. Oh, and can you bring some aspirin and some water? She’s going to have a headache.” Dean nodded and headed down the hallway.

Sam went back into the room and sat down on the chair, staring at Y/N. Dean was right. She was pretty. Part of him wanted to sit on the bed beside her instead of in the chair, but he kept his distance. As near as he could tell, he represented everything bad that had ever happened in her life. She lost family because of the Men of Letters and the supernatural, and now she lost her business, which was definitely his fault. If he hadn’t have walked into her store, Rowena wouldn’t have targeted her. Even if his hands itched to push the hair out of her face, he needed to stay away from her. Dean may have joked, but it was the truth. The lifespan of the women around him was mercilessly short. She would be much better off far away from him once all of this was over.

10 notes · View notes

mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 37

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1118 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

Another week had passed and you were still in Hell. Even if you hadn’t been told your new prison was in Hell, you would have still thought it was Hell, because you certainly felt like you were getting slowly tortured. There were no real windows in your rooms, just things that looked like windows, but were actually just an illusion. You could change the view to a city view if yesterday’s beach scene suddenly bored you, but knowing it wasn’t real made you prefer to not look at all. Like those TVs that look like fireplaces. They look and sound like a fire, but give off no heat. There was plenty to keep you occupied, including every movie, TV show, or book ever made (and a few that would never be found above ground), and anything you wanted was provided immediately, except Sam. Crowley visited every day, which was the only thing keeping you sane from loneliness. Human interaction was what you were beginning to crave, even more than real sunshine, and you suspected that was part of Crowley’s plan. If you were cut off from the rest of the world, you’d depend on him for your happiness, and soon have a heavy case of Stockholm syndrome. It was taking everything you had not to prove him right.

The first day and night you were here, you cried, and you fought, and you decided that you would make yourself so miserable you’d get sick, or hurt yourself, and prove to Crowley that keeping you here wouldn’t mean keeping you safe. You stopped eating in defiance, and had been carefully searching the rooms for different ways to injure yourself badly, but not fatally. When Crowley pointed out the cameras, all of those plans changed.

“Moose is watching, my dear. As long as he knows you are safe, he will behave. I suspect, though, that if he believes that you are endangering yourself in despair, he’ll try to ride to the rescue. Now, I know you’ve seen the guards outside your door, and at literally every other entrance and exit to this part of Hell. What are the odds that a rescue attempt wouldn’t result in his death?” Your heart fell. If Sam saw you get sick or injured, he would rush in half-cocked to save you, and probably get hurt, if not killed. If he was going to rescue you, he’d need time to formulate and execute a plan. You had to keep Sam calm as best you could for both your sakes. Even though there was a good chance that Crowley was lying about Sam being able to watch, you couldn’t take that chance. When Crowley left, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to reach out to Sam, even though there was no guarantee he was watching at that exact moment. All you could do was hope.

Now that you’d been here for a couple of weeks, you were starting to get into a bit of a routine. Focusing on that was helping to distract you from the abject boredom. You also figured that if your routine became predictable, then Sam wouldn’t feel the need to watch you 24/7. If you only wrote your notes to him at certain times, and later talked to him after Crowley turned on the sound, then maybe he would take the rest of his days to do something else. The last thing you wanted to do was be the very distraction that kept him from formulating a plan for your escape. This thinking also kept you from feeling like you had to put on a show 24/7, too. If you could convince yourself Sam wasn’t watching, then you could stop trying to look interesting enough to watch.

Keeping in mind that if you weren’t there to watch, maybe Sam wouldn’t be watching, you started asking Crowley to take walks with you outside your suite every day. Crowley obviously thought this was part of his plan at work to in some way seduce you into being happy with him, and was pleased with the request. He smiled when you wrote a note to Sam and placed it in front of one of the cameras, letting him know that you were okay, just taking a walk outside, in case Sam wasn’t watching when you left. You had an ulterior motive for these walks, which was to familiarize yourself with the layout of the areas around your rooms, and where the guards were posted. Should Sam ever get to you, you wanted to be able to lead him out if you had to. Every night, before you went to bed, you made sure to tell Sam all about your day, including your walks. You tried to couch everything you said in innocence and awe, and keep the info you were passing subtle and to a minimum, because you knew Crowley was watching the feeds. Surely, Crowley would figure out that you were essentially slipping notes to Sam in class during those talks, and he’d be just as interested in them as Sam was. In your mind, though, just letting Sam know that you were finding your way around outside your suite was good enough. Anything else was gravy.

Nights were still the worst, though. You could only hope that Sam couldn’t tell that you were having nightmares. You had always talked in your sleep during nightmares or when you had those dreams born from stressful times, and you hoped that if it was happening now, that Sam was sleeping through it. That was another thing you were missing: Sam’s warm body pressed up against yours in bed. You had barely begun to get used to snuggling up against his solid warmth when it was taken from you. You tried not to think too much about Sam in bed watching you sleep, and how some long distance couples used video chats to, well, stay intimate. What you had going on was not a video chat with one person, it was a one-way feed to at least two viewers, if not more. Surely Crowley wasn’t watching you every single second, but you guessed he probably had at least one other demon assigned to watch the feeds all the time so you didn’t do or say something to cause a problem. Imagining some lackey demon watching you putting on any kind of show for Sam quickly snuffed that thought. So, you went to sleep every night, trying to think good thoughts so you wouldn’t have nightmares, and hoping the stress of trying to appear perfectly all right for Sam wasn’t leaching into your dreams and causing you to spill the beans every time you shut your eyes.

9 notes · View notes