"I don't usually do this kind of thing, walking up to random strangers, but you look about as uncomfortable here as I feel."
He was tall and handsome, strong jaw and broad shoulders, and you already knew who he was. Your eyebrows lifted as you nervously rotated the beer bottle in your hand. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" you laughed.
"Uhh... yeah, maybe I should have though that through a little better," he said with a nervous laugh, running a hand over the back of his neck. "It's just—these hunter gatherings—I don't know..."
You ducked his gaze, nodding, and exceedingly nervous. "If Sam Winchester doesn't feel like he belongs here, than what hope do I possibly have?"
A little smile curved your lips and Sam's mouth dropped half-open as he realized you knew who he was. "Ahh," he said with another nervous laugh. "Yeah..." He never knew how people would react to his name.
You glanced up again and caught his eyes. "Relax. I prefer to judge people on my actual experience with them and not just on a name or some insane stories... and believe me, I've heard some whoppers about you and your brother."
Sam shifted awkwardly again, ducking his head. Half of him expected you to start quizzing him about what you'd heard. But you didn't.
"I'm Y/N," you finally introduced yourself. "And I could use some air. I hear this place has a private pond. Want to check it out? Everybody in here is probably gonna be too drunk to have a conversation with in about 30 minutes," you said with a dry laugh.
Sam looked up, his multifaceted eyes catching yours. He had a good feeling about you... he didn't know why. "Yeah, actually some air sounds great."
You gave him a warm smile and Sam felt his shoulders unclench and drop down. Maybe this party would be okay after all...
Prompt: "I don't usually do this kind of thing."
163 notes
·
View notes
The 15th prompt, abstract
I pondered over this for quit some time, had even drawn up a sketch already in the classic art abstract way but then i thought to myself "wait, whats more abstract to take this drawing and draw it with the characters as the animals the fandom associates them with" so here is bee-stiel and moose (sam) and squirrel (dean)
2 notes
·
View notes
"Come on, Sam," you laughed, wrapping an arm around his back and did your best to steady his towering frame.
"Where we going?" he asked, his words slurring together a little comically.
"You're going to bed. Come on," you said. "You had too much to drink at the bar." At that moment, you paused and thought about how unusual that was, for Sam to drink enough that he was thoroughly drunk. "Why did you drink so much tonight, anyway?" you asked, grabbing the room key out of his jacket pocket and quickly unlocking the door.
He stood still, his shoulders more slumped than usual, and gave you a long look as you held the door open for him. "Sam?" Your eyebrow quirked up in a question.
He smiled at you, a dopey drunk, sleepy smile. You grinned back. "You're beautiful," he said all of a sudden, wavering a little where he stood.
You blushed furiously and laughed it off, rushing over to steady him again and usher him inside. "You're drunk," you asserted. "Come on. Let's get you inside." He obeyed your shepherding and flopped down onto the bed on his back, his eyes closed and his legs sticking out over the side of the bed, boots still on,
"I am drunk," he mused. His eyes opened and he looked down at you as you tugged his shoes off. "And in the morning when I'm sober—" he sighed and watched you straighten up, looking down at him now with a curious expression. "—when I'm sober you'll still be beautiful. I jus' won't be brave enough to tell you..." His words were slurred and sleepy, and by the end his eyes had closed again and he shifted a little to make himself more comfortable on the mattress.
You were left staring at him, your heart fit to burst as it raced in your chest, wondering if it was possible you'd heard him right at all.
799 notes
·
View notes
Daryl, teaching y/n how to drive: okay, yer drivin' and Maggie and Negan walk out into the road.
Daryl: quick, what do ya hit?
y/n: oh, definitely Negan. I could never hurt Maggs!
Daryl, rubbing his forehead with a sigh: the brakes. ya hit the brakes.
649 notes
·
View notes