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bitchylandtyphoon · 1 year ago

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Important to me

Sam Winchester x Reader

(Y/N): your name

(E/C): eye colour

(C/C): celeb crush

Sam and Dean slowly descended the rusty black stairs, trying not to trip from exhaustion. Every nerve ending in their body was hypersensitive; their fingers and toes were cold; their eyes and heads pounded from lack of sleep; and a rotting stench was secreting from their overworn clothing. “Hey guys, how was the hunt?" you asked in a gentle voice to avoid elevating their migraine pain. Dean mumbled under his breath as he walked to his room; even Sam could only give a small smile and “tiring” as a response.

You’ve noticed how the boys have become more tired after their hunts. Maybe it was because you did all the research while they did all the dirty work, or simply because they were getting older. Either way, it’s been taking a toll on their health, and you know it wouldn’t be good in the long run.

Judging from their clothes, you assumed they’d be taking a shower before getting some shut-eye, but you didn’t want them to go to bed hungry.

Walking to the kitchen, you opened the white door of the fridge, which consisted of a few eggs, lettuce, and beer. Wow, no wonder these guys only eat out. Groaning, you grabbed your keys and coat, texting Sam and Dean that you'd be heading out, knowing disturbing them wouldn’t be the best idea.

——————————————————————— Sam walked out of the steaming shower, wrapping his lower body in a towel. Taking another to dry off his hair. He ran his long fingers through his hair, noticing it had become very coarse over the past few months. Sam thought back to a hunt when shards of a monster's guts managed to get stuck in his hair. He felt like it was a personal attack; a shower didn’t help as much as he wanted to either. He spent hours trying to get the red and black hard goo out, even asking Dean. Unfortunately, Dean was not very gentle and made Sam partially ball. He remembers how you saved the day with coconut oil and a small brush. You had to sit on a chair while Sam sat crisscrossed in between your legs. You guys were still getting to know each other, so it was an awkward moment, but after Sam felt your gentle nails and euphoric massage, he melted. His head rested on your bare, soft thigh as you worked on the sides of his head. He felt so much at peace that he could’ve slept right then and there. He chuckled as he ran his hand through his hair, wishing he could have some of that magic right now. He wanted the comfort you gave him.

Putting on his comfier clothes, he slid into his bed, falling soundly asleep with a fond yet tired memory passing through his head once more.

——————————————————————— You slide open the door, balancing heavy bags of groceries, a special box containing a slice of heaven for Dean, and the boys’ favourite drinks. You dropped the bags in the kitchen, unpacking them away into the cupboards and fridge. Knowing it would be a long night, you pulled out your phone and put some music on low. You then turned on the gas stove, grabbing the lighter out of the drawer to start the fire. Begin by taking out mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, and other foods, washing them before finely chopping them, and cooking them on low heat. You added seasoning and eventually smelled the delicious aroma emanating from the dish. Now you need to cook the meat.

————————————————— Each boiling drop from the shower head felt relaxing and painful as it fell onto Dean's hunched back. The heat soothed his ache, yet, the new bruises were sending another sensation of pain throughout his back. He groaned as he faced the shower head and allowed the pellets to hit his face, giving all his might to scrub away the dried-up blood and sweat embedded in his freckled skin. All he could think about was sleep, hoping to sleep as much as he could yet, knowing another case would cut his rest short. He took the white soap bar and breathed in the rose aroma it released, it reminded him of you. Dean was glad he had a girl like you in his life, no matter what was bothering his thoughts or physically torturing him, he knew he’d have you to patch him up. You were always there for Sam and him. Every time you carefully did his stitches, gave him a needed hug, fixed his tie or walked into your room, the smell would give him a sense of comfort. It reminded him of his younger days spent with his mom. It reminded him of home.

——————————————————————— You put on the blue oven kits cautiously taking out the crispy chicken from the oven. The meal was finished and so were the other dishes you made. You even had time to prepare healthy snacks and some of Sam’s favourite protein drinks. From a young age, you hated the thought of being a housewife and having to complete all the duties at home, but you knew it was the least you could do to cheer them up, adding much-needed order to their already chaotic lives. Plus, it was nothing compared to all they did for you after they took you in. You smiled as you admired the dinner table, for once looking like a normal family’s dinner table and not used as a summoning ground.

You knocked on Sam’s door to get no response, knowing the younger Winchester might’ve fallen asleep you went to go check on the other one. Knocking once again to hear a low “yeah…”. Pushing the door you see a half awake, now clean Dean, lying against the headboard watching TV.

“Hey,” you gently said. “How are you feeling?”. His eyes were still heavy with sleep but pupils dilated from insomnia. You could tell he tried sleeping but to no avail. “Listen,” you sit on the bed and see him smile a bit. “I know you’re tired but I made some food for you and Sam and you should eat. You’d sleep better with a full stomach. And I might have some pieee”. With that Dean jumped into his bunny slippers and strutted towards the kitchen in his pink nightgown. Chuckling at Dean's cuteness, stopping before leaving the room as you saw the big pile of bloodied clothes on the floor.

———————————————————————

“Hey Sam, I’m coming in.” You announced, entering the neat room, smelling a mix of pine trees and cheap cologne. You saw Sam’s large body lying on his stomach, a soft snore coming from his peaceful slumber. Quietly entering the room, you searched for his hamper, unlike the other one, Sam kept his dirty clothes in one, making it easier for you to take the clothes out of his room.

As you passed by Sam, you stood there watching him, taking advantage of the sliver of peace he was given. You put the hamper down slowly to not wake up Sam, getting on your knees, face level with Sam’s. You watched as his lips laid in a pouted style, opening once in a while to exhale, you took notes of the small moles, birthmarks and faint freckles scattered over his face like stars, noticing how perfect his nose was; never have you ever seen a perfect natural triangle. His thick dark brown eyebrows arched over his forehead symmetrically and his lashes fluttered gracefully as butterflies. His hair was your favourite part, ever since you helped take the guts out of his hair you missed the proximity and softness. His soft hair tickled the inside of your thighs and reminded you of a dog’s overgrown mane. It was beautiful to touch.

You then noticed the crevices appearing in his forehead and eye sockets. He starts to stir in his sheets, the peaceful expressions disappearing, turning into a pained one. He began making uncomfortable noises. He was going into a nightmare.

“Sam, hey wake up! Sam come on, wake up. It’s just a dream!” Sam’s head started moving side to side, the veins in his temple and neck protruding. His eyes were tightly shut and beads of sweat formed across his forehead. His hand gripped firmly onto the arm shaking his shoulder, the other gripping the the brown sheets. “SAM WAKE UP!” Shouting wouldn’t help anymore, looking around you see a cup of water on the nightstand.

——————————————————————— Sam jolted up with a gasp, cold water on his face which soaked most of his hair and nightshirt. He grasped onto as much air as possible, eyes wide trying to familiarize his surroundings. A sense of relief overcame him when he saw your concerned (e/c) eyes.

He saw how your eyes travelled over his face searching for an answer, too shocked or scared to say anything. He sighed, “Don’t tell Dean, please.”

“Ok, I won’t.” What was that, you thought to yourself, you’ve never seen this type of behaviour from him. “At least talk to me about it. You’ve been more tired than usual and it’s worrying. If you’re not gonna tell Dean, tell me.”

Sam smiled, his heart swell when he heard your confession. For once someone was listening to his struggles without ratting out to Dean.

“Um Sam…” Sam shares a confused look until you look down at your now red and numb arm. “Sorry!” Sam immediately retracts his arm away, allowing the blood to rush back to the area.

“It’s like you’ve never touched a girl before or something” you joke trying to lighten up the mood. He laughs under his breath. “Come downstairs and eat something.” You demanded as you rubbed your sore arm.

“It’s okay-“

“Sam.”

He grins his teeth as he sees your serious face. Cute, he thought.

You grab onto his large calloused hands and attempt to pull the giant out of bed, barely budging. “Oh my god, you are so friggin heavy. How are you built like a god with all that junk food?”

He jumps to his feet almost falling on top of you, your nose meeting his chest as the scent of fresh soap fills your nose. A blush rises to your skin at the proximity, looking up you see his brown eyes already staring down at you. You felt his thumb glazed over your smaller hands, which you both held onto each other. “So you think I’m built like a god huh?” Sam suggestively asks with a raised eyebrow.

Taking a quick step back, you playfully shove him away. “Haha very funny Indeed Winchester, get your ass downstairs.” Crossing your arms you wait till he exits his room, him and his footsteps disappearing into the hallway.

“(Y/n) THINKS I HAVE A HOT BODY” Sam shouts from the hallway; your eyes widen as instant embarrassment runs through your body. You hoped to god Dean didn’t hear or you’d never see the end of the teasing.

———————————————————————

You return to the kitchen to see two big babies chowing down on the meal you made, acting as if they hadn’t eaten in ages.

“(Y/n), THISH FWOOD ISH AMASHING” You barely make out the words as Dean continues to stuff his mouth with food. “What he said,” Sam says as he adds more food to his plate. You giggle as you sit next to Sam, glad to see them eating a proper meal. “Where did you even learn how to cook like this?” Dean asks. “My mom used to teach me the basics but then I picked it up more when I moved out. Haven’t cooked like this since University actually,” you answer. “So you’re gonna tell me we could’ve been eating like kings but you decided to torture us with takeout.” Dean jokes while dropping his fork on his plate. “I never hated you more.”

You burst out into laughter throwing your head back, “Please, you love me.” You say rolling your eyes. You noticed how Sam became quiet, twirling his food around a fork.

“Not as much as Sammy does,” Dean says with a devious smirk. Sam chokes on his food as you roll your eyes. “Very funny Dean” Sam glares at Dean.

“Sorry Sam but I’m off limits, too committed to (c/c).” You giggle as you jokingly twirl your hair. “He’s such a daring man dramatic sigh”.

“I’m gonna puke my food up if you keep acting like that,” Dean says with a disgusted face while trying to put even more food in his mouth.

You cheekily smile and see as Sam scoffs, taking note of the weird action. Dean gets up to put his plate away, you take this as a cue to start cleaning up the kitchen.

“Goodnight” Dean yells as he walks out the door. You and Sam both say goodnight. Then it hits you, that rascal. He left you and Sam in the kitchen alone. You can already feel the blood rushing to your ears, instead, you try to distract yourself by doing the dishes.

“Do you need help with anything?” His eyebrows knit together as he asks “Let me help clean at least.”

As much as you wanted him to rest, you couldn’t say no to him and his persuasion. Or maybe he had you wrapped around his finger. “Uh yeah, I’ll wash and you dry?” You offer pointing to the load of dishes. “Yeah, that’s great”. You grab the yellow sponge and begin scrubbing the sauces off the pots, leaving Sam to get the towel. Unmindful of you, you forget where the towels are, right in the cabinet in front of you, the towels stacked on the higher shelf. As you were about to move you felt Sam’s figure hover over your smaller frame. You freeze as you feel his body’s heat mingle with your cold body. His large hand rests on your lower back.

To another person, it could be a simple gesture, but to you, deep down you were screaming from the closeness of it all. Somehow Sam had always made you shy in his presence, you didn’t know if it was because of how smart and skilled he was that made you feel inadequate to him or how he made you weak in the knees with his beautiful…well everything. You’ve been close with other men like Dean, yet Sam’s touches and glances manage to get your cheeks red and heart pumping.

You mindlessly scrub a knife, hoping to finish the chore as soon as possible. “Ow ow ow…” you grimace in pain as the knife slices the side of your finger. You see Sam reacts quickly. Grabbing your hand and putting it under the faucet, turning on the cold water. “This looks pretty bad,” he says as he takes your hands in his. One hand holds on to your wrist while the other gently presses the cut, attempting to get as much blood out.

You could not imagine a more embarrassing moment, the one time you’re alone with Sam you embarrass yourself like a child. Yet you couldn’t ignore how Sam’s body was pressed against yours, you could feel the rough outlines in his body. The front of his leg pressed up against your butt.

“Does it hurt?” Sam asks, not looking away from the cut.

“It just stings but not too much” you reply, noticing the decreased blood spillage.

He takes your other hand and guides your fingers into mirroring his previous actions. “Don’t move I’ll be back”. His warmth fades and you stand still, waiting as the cold water cleans up your cut.

You throw your head back, groaning at your clumsiness.

——————————————————————- Hissing in pain, Sam dabs rubbing alcohol into your new cut. You’re now sitting in his room as it was the closest place with a first aid kit.

“There, all done. How does it feel?” Sam finishes wrapping a large bandaid around the wound.

“I am so much better now. Thank you, Sam.”

Sam gives you a soft smile and he cleans the area up, you watch as he picks up the remote and turns on the TV.

“I thought you were tired”

“Come on, it’s only like 10 pm. We’ll be fine.” Sam defends himself as he sits on the other side of the bed. “Come closer.” He pats the empty spot beside him.

You look stunned at what the Winchester is implying until you realize he means to lay against the headboard. You slowly get up, sitting beside Sam but leaving a good space between both your bodies.

“So what do you want to watch?” Sam asks as he starts surfing through movies on his TV.

“I’m okay with whatever.” ——————————————————————— You turn to Sam to talk to him about the climax when you realize he has dosed off. His head leaning back on the headboard, from the side it looked uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do, you decided to wait until the movie finished. ——————————————————————— You yawned as the movie neared its end, all the characters looking over the bleeding horizon as the camera zooms out. From the lack of movement, you assume Sam is still asleep. You take his phone off the nightstand and turn the do not disturb mode on, if other hunters need you, you’ll handle the case for them. He deserves some rest.

You pull out your phone to scroll through your private socials. Seeing a few edits of your (c/c) and quietly giggling to yourself. You take a glance at Sam, still dosed off. He looks better now. Wait, you look between your (c/c) and Sam. Omg, how did you not see it before? You groan internally as you stare at your phone; the long-haired, smart, well-mannered, and tall golden retriever guy. They were honestly so alike. You hoped the boys wouldn’t be able to see the resemblance.

You thought back to the moment at the table when you were gushing over (c/c) and Sam scoffed. Do you think he was jealous? No, no way. You calm yourself down before the redness reaches your face.

You felt a heavy weight shift onto your shoulder, his hair tickling the crevice of your neck. You didn’t want to wake him up by checking but it was very evident that Sam had fallen asleep on your shoulder. You could smell the sandalwood scent coming from his hair, wishing you could get more of the comforting smell.

Sam was tired and you knew it would be a big fuss if you woke him up. So, you stayed there, looking at the TV screen, trying to hold in any excitement or scream within you. The butterflies are swarming their way around your stomach. That is until you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your torso.

You stay still, unlike your body temperature which skyrockets at the sudden touch. You feel yourself being pulled towards him even more, his head snuggling dangerously close to your neck, his lips close to your skin. Sam’s hot breath created a burning sensation, your heat causing them to burn tenfold.

You weren’t gonna move, you couldn’t leave, you were stuck beside Sam for the rest of the night. You exhale trying to calm yourself; he’ll forget all about this tomorrow. This is totally what friends do. You cuddle and panic internally with Dean all the time. You couldn’t be lying more at this point. You shut your eyes, you carefully reach over to turn the nightlight off.

click

The only light was emitting from the faint blue light on the TV. Its light began to shut off as the room welcomed pure darkness.

So you lay there in the dark as you feel Sam’s body snuggled right up to yours, his arms holding you captive as his fingers twitch and graze you ever so often. This would be a dream if you guys were together. You’ve liked Sam ever since you knew him, and you love both him and Dean very much. Doing everything in your power to show how much you care for them. You just wanted Sam to love you and adore you the way you did.

You felt a wave of exhaustion hit you, and your own eyes became heavy with fatigue. Blinking slowly, you succumb to Sam’s comfort and allow your heavy head to lay on his.

#sam #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #samuel winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #tfw #tfw x reader #sam fluff #sam x reader fluff #Spotify

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i-read-and-write-barely · 2 years ago

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Scarves

You crochet scarves for the members of TFW, how do they react?

This is written more so as headcannons. All the characters are separate.

Day 3. Scarves.

Dean Winchester.

You crocheted a scarf that references Baby, the colors are mostly black and white and there's a mini impala on each end of the scarf.

Dean absolutely adores it, when he first receives it he's stunned for a little while. But he does immediately put it on.

He starts bragging to anyone who will listen. Which means Sam and Castiel get an earfull. All they hear for at least 24 hours is how amazing you are.

Doesn't care if the edges are a little wonky, or if the stitches are a little uneaven. He is positively smitten with what you've made. Although he does do a good job at pretending he isn't over the moon because of such a simple gift.

Even when the cold season is over he tries to get away with wearing it, until you tell him he's likely to get a heat stroke then he begrudgingly puts it away, but he does keep it near him on the off chance he finds a colder area.

Starts using it as a comfort item, whenever you or he is in a stressful situation he keeps the scarf as near to him as he can as a reminder. You don't even think he realizes that he's doing it.

Sometimes since he frequently goes out to eat fast food stains might get on the scarf, he does his best to clean it though. He even asks Sam for cleaning tips.

If anyone dares to try and insult or be rude about your creation he's throwing hands. No hesitation. He won't kill them but no one gets away with insulting a gift from you.

He might use the scarf sometimes to pull you closer to him, he's not much of a fan of pda but when he gets a chance and feels comfortable he'll lasso you closer and give you a kiss.

All in all he's more of a show not tell kinda guy, he may not verbally say it much, but he does show how much he loves your gift.

Sam Winchester.

You make a scarf that is marked to the brim with wards against everything supernatural that you know.

Sam immediatly adores it, although if something is wrong with the wards he will point it out to you, just for future reference.

On more than one occasion that scarf has pulled him out of a bad situation. You are more than happy to remind him of this if he ever tries to nitpick the stitches.

Despite the small flaws he wears your gift with pride. And if you ever need advice on anything crochet he is happy to assist, he'll learn a whole knew stitch just to try and help you.

Offers to make you a scarf as well if you want to go out matching together, the scarf he makes for you is... functional. But the lines are just a touch wonky. Not that you mind.

Togther you both make a pattern for others to follow in case they ever need an all in one ward. And every so often you might meet a fellow hunter who has a similar scarf to you two.

On occasion a creature (mostly demons) might try to insult your gift. They are quickly delt with. Sometimes with the demon trap on the scarf.

If the scarf ever tears or gets dirty Sam will find a way to repair it. And if he can't then he goes to you and asks of you can make him a new one. You obviously do and he is very careful with the second one. (Although he never throws away the first scarf.)

The scarf is typically never very far away from Sam at any point in time, especially in the colder months. But in summer Sam will pack it away, only to immediatly bring it back at the first sign of a chill.

Overall he may be a little picky over your work but you will know he adores it whole heartedly.

Castiel.

You make Castiel a scarf that has a winged cat on it. For no other reason than cats are cute, and wings are pretty.

Cas is initially confused. As an angel he doesn't really need to worry about getting cold so making him a scarf isn't required.

However he does appreciate the gift and understands it as a mark of your affection. So he wears it with pride. Even in the summer. You'll have to argue with him if you want him to take it off when warm days hit.

Even if your stitches are lopsided or really tight on one side and fairly loose on the other, Cas won't notice. All he sees is your love, tightly bundled into one woven object.

If the scarf ever gets damaged or dirtied, he'll use his grace to return it to a normal state. Under no circumstance shall he ever allow it to be destroyed.

Sometimes if you're cold he'll wrap the scarf around both your necks, (being careful to not accidentially strangle you in the process.) as you can imagine this does look a little funny but it does make you laugh, so it's a win in Castiel's book.

While he might not understand everything about human traditions he does try to make you a gift in exchange. A tiny replica of the cat with wings that's on his scarf. It's a little wonky but it's adorable and you treasure it fully.

Cas "accidentially" brags a lot to Dean about the gift. Talking about the craftmanship, the love, and the warm fuzzy feeling it gives him to wear.

If anyone tries to take the scarf away they immediatly get reprimanded. No one gets to take what you made for him.

Overall Cas loves your work, and he only sings the highest of praise for it.

#spnoctober #spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #tfw x reader #team free will x reader #tfw spn #Dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #Castiel x reader

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devilsmoth · 1 year ago

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Dead Rising (TFW x reader, Lucifer x reader?????)

Authors Note: I know this isn't the best thing I've ever written, but this is more just writing practice for me :] trying to get back into the swing of writing. Either way, I hope you enjoy it ! If not then I'm sorry ;w;

Warnings: Nothing, really. Language?

Pairing: I didn't write one in mind, though the way I ended up writing Lucifer I suppose it could be Lucifer x y/n if I make a sequel to this?

Prompt: "I thought you were dead!" / "Wow! The miracle of life!", "Just wishful thinking."

Words: 1,741

It was....weird. Death was weird, but then again it'd also be weird if it wasn't weird? Some sort of weird paradox. A weirdadox, if you will.

One moment, you were there, ready to fight alongside team Free Will, and then next you were just....gone? What was weird was that there wasn't even any pain, or if there was you certainly don't remember it. You've flirted with the concept of death many times before, all of them filled with unbearable pain and slight panic, but you've never actually died.

You weren't sure what happened, but there was no reaper to meet you, nobody to guide you to the other side. Dean and Sam were too busy fighting some stupid group of angels to notice you had died so abruptly. Or, at least you think you died? Question mark?

Your brows furrowed as you took a look at your surroundings, only to see Lucifer standing there with a smug smile on his face, and wiggling his fingers at you in some strange form of a wave. He was quiet, for now at least, instead pointing to something on the ground. Confusion was clear on your face as you followed where he was pointing, only to see your body on the ground.

You looked over yourself, searching for any signs of a wound, anything that would've attributed to your cause of death, but there was....nothing. No blood, no wounds, no gore, nothing. You looked back to Lucifer with a strange gaze, expecting him to explain just what the fuck is going on.

"Now," He begins, hands in front of him, "I bet you're wondering, 'Oh no, what happened, what am I, mehmehmeh,'" Lucifer takes on a high pitched, mocking tone, hands moving side to side as he speaks, "All good questions."

There was a long, silent pause, with him just staring at you.

"Oh, you want me to answer them." Lucifer announces in a bored tone.

"I think that would be the polite thing to do, yeah," You nod in agreement, "Especially since you were the one that killed me, I feel like I'm owed some kind of explanation."

"Huh?" He questions, but whether it's genuine confusion or he's exaggerating himself to mock you, you've no idea, "Dead? Do you see any reapers, y/n?" He asks, arms out as he turns around, as if he was looking for them himself, "You're funny, or maybe just stupid...Either way, no you're not dead."

"Dean!" You hear Sam call, "DEAN GET OVER HERE, NOW!"

Lucifer smiles when he hears the panic in Sam's voice. You turn to look at Sam, only to see him trying to shake you awake, calling your name. Dean comes running over, and checks you for a wound of any kind, and quickly becomes frustrated when he can't find one. Sam and Dean argue with one another for a good minute before they both finally agree on just getting you back to the car and heading back to the bunker as fast as humanly possible.

"Just, let's just get 'em in the car, alright?!" Dean commands, "Did you see what happened?"

"No, no, I-" Sam's words falter when he sees the angry and disappointed look on Dean's face, but he picks your body up easily, "I was fighting off Heaven's bodyguards Dean, just like you were!"

"I told you to keep an eye on 'em! You were the one that wanted them to come!" Dean argues as he opens the door for Sam to put you in the backseat, "I told you they should stay back at the bunker and work on researching, but nooooo-"

"Dean, they're obviously not dead!" Sam argues back in frustration, "So how about we wait to blame me for it, okay?"

Dean just grumbles as he gets into the car. The sight would've made you smile, if you weren't incorporeally separated from your own body, with still no explanation as the what the fuck happened, or what was even going on. Your gaze is back on Lucifer, this time with less confusion and more anger. Were you just here for his fucking amusement, or was he gonna get to talking? You glare at him, already plotting a way to kill him, and as if reading your thoughts, he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, look," Lucifer begins, "I'll return you to your body, just as soon as I can get what I want."

"Oh yeah?" You question, "And what's that? Jack? A new haircut? Maybe a shower-"

"You wound me," He puts a hand over his heart in faux offense, "Don't worry your pretty head about it, alright?"

"So, what?" You question, crossing your arms, "You're just going to leave my body to rot until who fucking knows how long, just to have some leverage? You expect the maggots to avoid my decaying body just because I asked nicely?"

Lucifer just stares at you for a moment, and you swear you see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He sighs out heavily, whining in annoyance before he rolls his eyes and looks back to you.

"Fine," He snaps his fingers, and you feel a part of you...spirit? lurch, "There. Happy?"

"..." You look around, wondering what the Hell he did, before looking back at him like he was fucking insane, "What the hell was that?"

"I'll explain on the way, I'm not staying here until the sun rises just chatting with you," He ushers you forward, and you comply, mostly because what else were you gonna do? "Come on, there we go."

He raises his hand to snap his fingers a bit, before a thought crosses his mind, and he squints before looking down at you.

"Uh, hold your breath," Lucifer warns, "Otherwise you'll find out what astral projected spirit-vomit looks like."

You shoot him another crazed look before listening to him, and just as you start to wonder what the hell he was talking about, he snaps his fingers and suddenly you're teleported to his throne room. Ah, that makes sense now, Cas would tell you something similar. You also recall Dean mentioning something about angelic teleportation and constipation as a side effect.

Back at the bunker, Sam and Dean had managed to get you--or, rather, your body--back inside. Sam had set you on a couch nearby so that they could keep an eye on you while they tried to research what was going on with you. It just...didn't make sense. You had a pulse, a weak one, but a pulse nevertheless. There was no wounds, no blood no signs of some kind of spell, no hex bags, nothing. Not even a sign of a struggle. So what gives?

A couple hours had passed in mostly silence, occasionally broken up by one of the brothers chiming in with an idea, and the other shooting it down because you didn't have any of the symptoms. Poor Jack was also confused, but he was still trying his best to help Sam and Dean come up with an answer within the many books of the bunker.

Suddenly, without any hint or warning, you had sat up from the couch. The boys didn't notice you at first, until you had passed behind Sam, and Dean's hunter instincts kicked in. He looked up, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. He kicks his brother to get his attention, and Sam looks up in confusion, only to see what he was looking at and grow even more confused.

"Uh," Sam begins as he grabs your arm to stop you, "Woah, woah, slow down,"

"Yeah," Dean chimes in as you turn around with a raised brow, "What the hell happened to you?"

You simply shrug, "I'm not a fucking oracle, I don't know."

The response nearly gives them whiplash, you never talked like that. Dean's first idea was that you were possessed, and Sam puts a hand out to stop Dean moving to get his gun.

"Okay, okay," He speaks, thinking you're angry, "Do you remember anything?"

"I remember this place sucks," You shrug again, your tone flat and emotionless, "And that there's leftovers in the fridge I'd kill for right now."

"Oookay," Sam speaks cautiously, and the familiar sound of wings can be heard before a familiar presence enters the room, "So, you're okay?"

"I dunno, I guess?" You shrug again, "I could go for some cake right now."

"Okay, what the hell?" Dean chimes in again, "I thought you were dead!"

"Just wishful thinking."

"I feel I have missed something." Castiel announces a bit awkwardly.

"Y/N was dead, but now they're not." Jack explains with a smile.

"Wow! The miracle of life!" You roll your eyes and yank your arm out of Sam's grip, "I'm going to go make me something to eat, since the Brady Bunch is all caught up."

With that, you had left the room, and Castiel watched silently as you left. His eyes squinted for a moment, analyzing you before you disappeared into the kitchen. This was not good news. You were soulless, and given that Sam, Dean, and Jack were all confused as to what happened to you in the first place, Castiel is doubtful that they know who did it to you. The good news is that there's not a whole lot of candidates that could've done it.

A lot of people are dead.

Not that dead is a good thing, but it is in this instance. The bad news, is that really, it's just the one person he's suspicious of, and if it is that person, then there's no way they're returning your soul without something in return. He dreads to think of what Lucifer could want in exchange for your very soul. Oh boy.

"I know what is wrong," Castiel announces as he comes out of his thoughts, realizing Sam and Dean were arguing with each other again.

They both look to the angel, who quietly looks back at them.

Dean rolls his eyes, "Alright, you gonna tell us, sparky?" He shoots Castiel a look, who nods.

"Yes." Castiel takes in a breath, "Y/N is soulless, and given our short pool of candidates to choose from these days, I suspect it to be Lucifer's doing."

Sam and Dean were both quiet for a moment, looking to each other like they were having a silent conversation.

"You can do that?" Jack asks, and Castiel hesitates.

"Your father can, yes."

#supernatural #y/n #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #team free will #tfw x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #x reader #imagine #blurb #idk at this point ?#just a lil thang i wrote XD #jack kline

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witherby · 4 months ago

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I love your Littlest Wayne series! I was just wondering, can Connor still hear mouse when she is in the shadows? Like, how would he react if she suddenly used her powers and he couldn't hear her anymore?

Ohhhh I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Let's explore that!

More Conner x Gender Neutral!Reader coming up~

Littlest Wayne: Signs of Life

Masterlist is Here!

Conner uses your heartbeat to lull himself to sleep. Its steady cadence is an anchor point for him when he's overwhelmed, or when he misses you, or when he wants to know where you are. Its calm, consistent thumping is always in the back of his mind, even when he isn't consciously listening for it.

So when he cracks his eyes open out of a dead sleep, groggy and confused, it takes him entirely too long to realize that he woke up because can't hear you anymore.

He's at Wayne Manor in seconds, uncaring of the alarms he's tripping in his haste to get to you, and hovering anxiously in the air when he finds your bedroom unoccupied. When Hal blearily stumbles in and asks him why he's in his youngest's room in the middle of the night again, and to please stop doing that because it's very inappropriate, Conner grips his shoulders too tight and blurts out the first coherent thought in his mind.

"I can't hear them!"

Hal rubs the sleep from his eyes, unphased. "Kid, I don't know what —"

"I can't hear their heartbeat."

The alertness is there now. Hal pushes his hands away and goes to the bed, pulling the covers back.

"The sheets are cold. Stay here, I'm getting Bruce."

Conner zips out of the room and pulls Bruce from his bed, then sets him back on the floor before Hal can even finish turning towards the door.

"Help me find them!" He snaps in a panic. Bruce blinks heavily, but it doesn't take him long to realize there's an emergency.

"When did you stop hearing them?" Bruce asks, glancing around your room. The only sign of disturbance is the window Conner came through, which was closed prior to his arrival. Bruce starts examining the space around your bed, wondering if you simply slipped into your pocket dimension or if something actually happened, and Hal leaves to go grab his ring so he can scan the area.

"Eight minutes ago. I woke up because I couldn't hear their heartbeat anymore, Bruce. I've never not been able to hear them before, I can't see them or detect their heat signature —"

"Superboy," Bruce says firmly, "deep breaths. It's extremely likely that they're still alive, but you can't help track them down if you're panicking."

Conner takes deep breaths. A little too deep. When he exhales the wind almost pushes Bruce over. He glares at Conner, who grimaces and flies back through the window to breathe outside instead.

"Where are you..." He whispers, frowning. He wraps his arms around his waist in a facsimile of a hug and closes his eyes, trying to center himself.

It'll be fine. Bruce and Hal don't seem to be frightened (they aren't a good base to compare to anyway, being seasoned vigilantes trained not to panic in stressful situations) and they aren't making any attempts to reach out to other League members for backup. It'll be fine. You're alive somewhere, Conner just can't hear you or see you or smell you or sense you or —

Deep breaths, he reminds himself. Focus. Just breathe and keep looking. They're fine. They're safe. They're....on the moon.

No fucking way.

Conner opens his eyes, incredulous. He listens for your heartbeat again, expanding his hearing outside of Earth.

There it is. The steady thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump he's grown to love is on the dark side of the goddamn moon. Like metal to a magnet, he follows the sound of you up, and up, and up, until he breaches the atmosphere and enters space. Then flies even further still, until his socked feet touch down onto the rocky surface.

"You scared the shit out of me," he snaps, when what he meant to say was "I'm so relieved you're okay."

A lumpy patch of darkness, darker than the rest of the ground, wobbles a little and inches forward until it's tickling Conner's toes. You move like you're unused to the terrain. It only makes him angrier.

"...a w a k e...w h y..."

"It's your fault," he says, hands shaking so bad he clenches them into fists. "I woke up with this huge sense of dread. Something was wrong, every bone in my body knew it. And I realized I couldn't hear your heart anymore."

He presses his fists to his eyes, applying pressure until bursts of color dance behind closed lids. They're burning, and not from the threat of head vision.

"I thought you were — I couldn't find —" he shakes his head and gasps your name. He feels that same tickling sensation on his feet again, more insistent. He steps away from your shadow. "Do you know how terrifying that was? To wake up and not find a single sign of life!? It's the middle of the night, and you're out here just — just on the moon!! On THE moon, the one in outer space!! When did you even find out you could travel off-planet!?"

"...y e s t e r d a y...p r a c t i c i n g..."

"Leave a note next time!" Conner says. He wants to throw something. Wants to kick the moon apart. Wants to drag you from the darkness and never let you out of his arms. "Leave a text! Tell someone something before you do this again!!"

"...i p r o m i s e...s o r r y C o n n e r..."

This time, when your darkness reaches for him, Conner allows himself to be pulled under and into your tight embrace. He floats in absolute darkness with you, soothing himself with your heartbeat.

When you return to your room, Bruce and Hal find you and Conner in each other's arms and sleeping away.

#littlest wayne au #conner kent x reader #kon el x reader #kon el #hal jordan #bruce wayne #batlantern #tfw your partner casually slips into a little pocket dimension and you can't track their pulse 24/7 anymore

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skeletonh0e · 4 months ago

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Admittedly, I don't particularly care for harem AUs largely as a personal preference, but that being said

The idea of Y/N yelling out "Hey baby!" and 50+ versions of Sans all respond is hilarious, especially if it's immediately followed by all of them recreating this

#sans x reader #underfell sans x reader #underswap sans x reader #underlust sans x reader #horrorfell sans x reader #fresh sans x reader #probably also works for the other au sanses out there but im not gonna bother tagging them all #tfw you got the entire multiverse calling you bby girl

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fell-e · 1 year ago

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aceyuu but its that one time-travelling ace theory

#tfw your bestie/crush is NOT beating the doomed by the narrative allegations #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #twst yuu #twet mc #aceyuu #i dont like this it looks like literal ass #but eh #felle draws〔𖧶〕

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hannahbarberra162 · 4 months ago

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Under the Microscope, Chapter 12 (Yandere Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

TW: light violence and gore at the beginning, medical whump afterwards.

All the other chapters

Sabo POV

Sabo was always in control. He always had been, always had to be. First he had to control himself around his biological family, pretending to think like them and pretending to like them. Next came Ace and it went without saying that Sabo was the one who kept his cool. Ace was brash and emotional, always getting them into trouble while Sabo was the one getting them out. Not to say he didn’t like it - Ace was his brother, his twin, his mirror.

And Luffy was his own situation entirely.

At work, Sabo was the chief of staff and as such had tremendous responsibility to his subordinates. He ran meetings, planned raids and battles, kept the organization flowing smoothly. He was in his element, controlling the coming and going of the RA with ease.

Sabo never drank in excess either, never once blacked out, never did drugs. He always wanted to be mentally available and secure in the knowledge that he'd be able to do whatever was needed. On the island, Ace was prone to getting black out drunk and often tried to get Sabo to join in. Sabo didn't see the purpose behind it but dutifully held Ace's hair back from his face when he was puking the next day.

Sabo never acted out of passion or anger on the battlefield, using his wits as a weapon in conjunction with his pipe. He had heard stories about people seeing red and losing themselves during difficult fights, but Sabo never felt that way. Fighting was part of his job, it was rarely personal.

And yet, Sabo had no memory of the massacre he and Ace committed against the Marines who had hurt Sunny. Sabo wasn’t one for purposeless carnage, he tried his best to keep fatalities to a minimum on his missions. The last thing he remembered was telling Sunny to close her eyes but everything after that was lost. He snapped back to reality when Ace grabbed his arm and held it back, preventing him from swinging again.

“I think they're dead enough Sabo,” Ace said with a grimace, glancing down. Looking at the deck, Sabo saw a head that had been bashed in beyond recognition with only a pool of brain and bones left on the deck.

Looking down, he realized he wasn’t even on the deck of the RA ship anymore. Somehow he was standing on the Red Dog’s Den, the Marine ship that had come to attack them. Getting his bearings, he saw Ace shoving charred corpses off the side of the ship, joining the hundreds below. The ocean was full of corpses in various states of destruction bobbing gently in the red tinged water. The Sea Kings would be eating well, that was for sure. Sabo could pretend that he felt bad for killing all those Marines, but he didn’t. They deserved what was coming to them for trying to kill Ace and hurting…

“Ace, where’s Sunny?!” Sabo yelled frantically, searching desperately for her smaller form on the deck of the burning RA ship. If he had hurt Sunny in the melee, he would -

“She’s already in the infirmary, Iva took her. She’s on this ship, the RA commandeered it,” Ace said, kicking a Marine corpse off the ship.

“Are all the Marines dead?” Sabo asked, knocking the brains off his pipe with the sole of his boot.

“Yeah, we got ‘em all. There were like, thousands of ‘em. Some made it to the RA ship but you set it on fire so…” Ace shrugged as he trailed off. Killing wasn’t new to either of them but Ace was lost in his thoughts, Sabo had seen the far away look in his eyes before. Sabo didn’t have time right now, he would catch up with Ace after he saw Sunny was alive. Tearing off for the stairs down to the lower levels, Sabo gripped his pipe tighter in his hand as he practically flew down the halls to the infirmary. If there was one thing he liked about Marine ships it was that they were all built with the same design. He’d been on a similar ship a few years back and they hadn’t made any significant changes to the style.

Bursting through the door of the infirmary, Sabo scanned the area quickly for Sunny. There were RA soldiers in some of the beds, most of them looked alright though some would need extensive help from Iva. As Chief of Staff he would have to ensure the health and wellbeing of his soldiers but right now he could only think of one person. Barging down the aisle, he saw Iva’s purple curly hair in the window to a patient room. Skidding to a halt in front of the door, Sabo composed himself for a moment before turning the handle and entering the room.

Iva was patting your arm as you lay in the clinic bed. Bandages covered nearly all of your visible skin, some of which still had bright red blood seeping through. Your hands were cocooned in bandages, none of your digits free from the wrappings. The portions of your face that Sabo could see were bruised with broken blood vessels beneath the skin, your jaw at an angle that suggested it was broken. If he had been watching for you, if he’d been faster, if he’d seen you on the deck sooner, he could have prevented all of this from happening to you. He couldn’t ever repay his debt to you for saving his brother using your brilliant mind and your devil fruit power. Now that he thought about it, he’d left you in seastone, how had you removed it to save Ace?

Mulling it over, the door creaked as Sabo opened it slowly so as not to disturb your sleep. As he approached you his stomach roiled with the obvious extent of your injuries. He hadn’t seen all that much of your assault but he already knew you weren’t a fighter. You didn’t have combat experience and probably hadn’t taken a punch since basic training. Sabo knew you weren’t able to defend yourself, that’s what he had promised to do for you. And he’d failed, not only you, but Ace as well. He couldn’t protect you, couldn’t protect Ace, what was the point of being strong if it didn’t help those he loved.

“Sabo boy, I - I don’t know what to say,” Iva said, your chest rising and falling under her gaze. Sabo didn’t either, the two of them watching the IV lines slowly dripping medicine into your destroyed body. After a few minutes Iva continued, “I know what to say - she saved Ace’s life,” Iva said quietly, still touching your arm. You were hooked up to IVs and had drainage lines coming out of your mouth, reminding Sabo of the first time he’d taken you on a ship. Kidnapped you, really. Sabo set his hat down on a side table, unstrapping his pipe and setting it aside.

“She’s stable but heavily injured. She’ll make it through, none of her injuries are life threatening. I didn’t use adrenaline- it wouldn’t have helped her, just kept her awake and in pain. I’m going to check on the others, make sure things are tied up. Stay with her for a few minutes, Sabo boy. She’s a hero,” Iva said softly, pushing your hair out of your face. You didn’t move or react at all, nothing to indicate that there was anything left of you besides your still breathing body. Iva stood up, clapping Sabo on the shoulder and giving him an encouraging pat as she left. He dropped into the chair Iva vacated. The adrenaline rush from before was fading and Sabo had so much more to do.

Sabo leaned over the bed, getting a closer look at you as your chest rose and fell evenly. The left side of your face was nearly black and it was particularly pronounced around your left eye. He reached for you with his hands but retracted them when he saw that his gloves were no longer brown but red with blood. It didn’t bother Sabo particularly to know that he’d just been on a murder spree but he didn’t want to infect any of your open wounds. Clutching his knees, he bowed his head, his blonde hair falling in his face.

“Sunny, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m so sorry. I can’t- I wasn’t there in time to protect you. And that was a promise that I made to you when I took you - that I’d be protecting and taking care of you from then on and I - I didn’t keep it. I can’t thank you enough for saving Ace. I’ll be th-thanking you for the rest of my life,” Sabo said, wiping away the tears that were now falling from his eyes.

“I’m suh-sorry, Sunny,” Sabo sobbed, crossing his arms on your cot and laying his head down.

Sunny POV

You’d been tired for weeks, for months, for years. You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t felt tired in your adult life. But you’d never felt like this before. Anytime you were able to open your eyes and groggily wake up you wished you were asleep again. It felt like all your bones had been replaced by metal screws, constantly tightening and keeping you in pain. After the first time you woke, you shut your eyes again moments later. To be awake was to be in pain and you couldn’t bear it. The nurses gave you painkillers around the clock to keep you comfortable and you didn’t protest as they kept you tucked deep in sleep, far away from the pain of reality.

The first time you woke up, you thought you were back at your old base. You had a few nightmares during your time with Sabo in which you were back in the Marines and they were going to throw you into the brig for fraternizing with wanted pirates. So when you woke and found yourself in a Marine patient gown on a Marine ship, your confused brain took it for reality.

You began to panic as you realized your body wasn’t working like you remembered. Your jaw was wired shut, you couldn’t see out of your left eye, and you were in hard casts from your hands to your shoulders. The only place left free were your legs, which were black and blue from internal bleeding. You tried turning your head to get your bearings but it hurt too much to turn very far. An alarm went off near you making you shrink back from the sound. Nearly as fast as the alarm went off, a short, raven haired man came by and turned it off. He wasn’t wearing any kind of Marine uniform and you didn’t recognize him by sight. He was talking at you as your brain tried to catch up to what was happening.

“Good morning, Sunshine! Or afternoon at least. I’m Logan, one of the RA nurses. You’ve been sleeping for quite some time - a few days now. After I get you up I’ll go get Sabo, he’ll be excited to see you’re awake,” he yapped at you as he moved you to sitting carefully as you whined from the painful sensation. RA nurses? On the Marine ship? You struggled to put the pieces together as you tried to recall anything you could from the fight. Logan left you for a moment and you let your head loll to the side. Sabo…you remembered seeing him standing above you, his pipe dripping in blood as he set his gaze on the Marines in front of you.

It was mere moments before Sabo’s top hat appeared in the window of your room. Logan opened the door for Sabo, who stood with his mouth open in the doorway.

“Sunny - I - you - you’re awake,” Sabo sputtered while staring at you, as if spellbound. You couldn’t answer very well due to your jaw but after a moment standing there frozen, he moved towards you slowly.

“Sunny -” he repeated, reaching his gloved hand out to you as if to stroke your cheek. It wasn’t intentional but you flinched as his hand came close to your face. Sabo had never hurt you but the last memories you had were of someone beating you to death. Sabo’s fingers curled into his palm as he frowned and sat down in the chair by the bed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, I came here as soon as I heard you were awake. Are you - do you remember who I am?” he asked softly, leaning in closer. You looked at him warily but nodded. “Do you know where you are? What happened?” he continued, his eyes roving over your face. You tilted your head from side to side to indicate that you sort of remembered but the rapid movement made your head hurt. His hands gripped the railing on the side of your bed as he began speaking to you.

“We’re on the Marine ship that was fighting us. You saved Ace’s life and the Marines started to attack you. I got there as soon as I could but I…I wasn’t fast enough to help you before you got hurt. Ace and I - we took care of the Marines and you’ve been here ever since then. It’s been about 4 days since the explosion. We’ve commandeered the Marine ship and are using it to sail to an RA rendezvous point where we’ll switch to another RA ship since we can’t be sure this one isn’t compromised -” Sabo kept talking but your mind felt like it was completely full so you shut your eyes to process what he’d told you so far. Sabo stopped talking and the room lapsed into silence.

“I’m sorry Sunny. I’m sorry I didn’t p-protect you, that you got h-hurt. I told you -” You opened your working eye to see that Sabo had started crying, tears coming out of his right eye as the other remained dry. It was incomprehensible to you that someone like Sabo would cry, especially over someone like you. Wanting to comfort him, you lifted your bandaged arm, the very one he’d put the seastone bracelet on, and patted his hand. Sabo’s head snapped up as he searched your face. He covered your hand with his own gently, like any pressure would break your bones further.

“Sunny -” he started to talk again but you were worn out from the ordeal. You let him hold your hand as his sniffles continued, trying to give him a reassuring look as much as you could. You tried to say his name before drifting off to sleep again but weren’t sure you quite made it.

From there on, you came to consciousness in bits and spurts. It reminded you of the last time Sabo had given you drugs for seasickness but this time you felt like you were still dreaming anytime you were awake. There would be different nurses attending to you but upon hearing you were awake Sabo would come within minutes, no matter the time of day or night. Sometimes he stayed for hours and sometimes only for a few minutes but it was always nice to see his familiar face. He talked to you a lot - sometimes you understood and followed what he said but sometimes you just let him speak at you as your unfocused mind drifted.

You wanted to see and ask about Ace but it often slipped out of your mind before you could say anything. You tried to grunt Ace’s name to get Sabo to understand but it was difficult for anyone to understand anything you said. Once you thought you heard Ace talking to Sabo outside your room so you listened eagerly.

“ - have to call him,” Sabo pleaded.

“I - it’s complicated. I haven’t seen him since Marineford and I don’t -” Ace started to say, sounding unsure of himself. You wished he would come into your room so you could hug and talk to him but you hadn't seen him yet when you were awake.

“Sunny needs him. She saved your life, I think you can put your feelings on hold,” Sabo replied icily. There was a beat of silence between the brothers before Ace sighed and answered.

“Of course, you’re right. I’ll call now, I think I still have his number,” Ace mumbled as his voice got quieter and you heard him stomping away. You watched the window in the door hoping to finally see Ace but he wasn’t there. Yawning widely, you reminded yourself to ask Sabo about Ace. After spending that month together you were fairly familiar with Ace and you were getting worried about his extended absence.

Time passed quickly as you recuperated in your bed, snowed under the heavy painkilling drugs you were given. You were never quite sure when you'd wake up so you tried to just let time wash over you. Sabo was your most frequent visitor, followed by Iva. For someone as vibrant as they were, Iva toned themselves down in your presence. You enjoyed time with both of them but you really wanted to see Ace. Sabo told you he hadn’t left again, that he was still on the ship and would be until the rendezvous point but he hadn’t stopped by. Well, not when you were awake. Once when you woke up you saw Ace’s cowboy hat on the table by the window and another time you thought you saw him leaving the room as you started to stir. You didn’t know what you did to upset him but you wished he would give you a chance to talk to him.

But that was another problem. Your current physical state was so weak that you couldn’t do anything for yourself. Sabo had given you the rundown of your extensive injuries - broken jaw, broken ribs, internal bleeding, fractured skull, broken fingers, traumatic brain injury and more. As much as your broken bones pained you, you figured that they’d heal eventually. You’d been awake a few times when your bandages were being changed but you’d been too cowardly to look at your own body and see the carnage. You were much more worried about your left eye - you still couldn’t control it or see out of it. It was like half the world was suddenly torn away and there wasn’t anything you could do to get it back. Sabo said there was still hope that you’d be able to recover your eyesight so you tried to stop yourself from needlessly worrying about it. It didn’t work, but you tried.

Being unable to move meant two things that you disliked equally. One was that you were now dependent on others for nearly everything. When you had to eat, nurses held drinks or food in cups with straws in front of your mouth and had to wait on you until you were finished. Your wired jaw prevented you from speaking while your bandaged hands made you unable to hold anything or write down what you wanted. Your methods of communication had been reduced to pointing in the general direction of what you wanted and grunting. It was trying, to say the least.

The other thing that you didn’t like was that now there was no distracting you from your thoughts. Not only that but as you began to stay awake for longer periods of time you wanted to do things to occupy your mind. Sabo left you some scientific journals but since you had lost vision in your eye, it took you three times as long to read anything and process the information. You became tired very easily and had to rest often from something as inane as sitting up. You couldn’t write or magnify due to your broken fingers, you couldn’t speak due to your jaw, you could barely read. It was absolutely miserable and you looked forward to the times that your nurses would give you your meds not only for the pain relief but so you could slip into sleep and avoid being awake.

There was one benefit to having your jaw wired shut though - you were able to avoid deep conversations with Sabo. There was so much to discuss, so much left unsaid but in your current state you weren’t able to respond. Sabo apologized to you frequently, always self flagellating over the actions that led you to where you were now. You wanted to tell him to stop beating himself up, that he’d saved your life in return, that you’d always choose Ace and that you had no regrets over your actions. You did have some feelings about the sea stone bracelet but you'd sort that out later as well. Eventually the two of you would have to have those conversations but for the time being you could just avoid them all together.

In your current state, Sabo was attentive to you and took on a great deal of the responsibility for caring for you when he was with you. He often fed you or gave you water, patiently waiting for you to finish no matter how long it took or who asked for his attention. Sometimes you woke up to see Sabo’s hat on your nightstand and Sabo sleeping in the chair in the corner of the room. Since the event Sabo had stopped touching you outside of what was necessary. He convened with the nurses on staff and kept you informed of your progress when you were awake. You found yourself thankful for Sabo’s presence among all the strangers who were treating you. You yearned for Ace to visit but Sabo’s mouth went tight whenever you tried to grunt or sign for Ace in some way. Sabo assured you Ace was alright, that he was just stewing and would come out of it eventually.

One day (morning? afternoon?) you woke and heard voices talking outside your door. You perked up as you heard Ace’s voice talking to Sabo, maybe he’d finally come in and spend time with you. Sabo said Ace was having a hard time and didn’t want you to see him like that but you didn’t care, you just missed your friend. You tried to listen in as best you could to the muffled voices.

“- be nice. She -” Ace sounded nervous again but you couldn’t see him. You imagined he might be gripping the brim of his hat in his hands, moving nervously from one foot to the other.

“What do you mean ‘be nice’ yoi? I’m nice to everyone. Besides, I know. Everyone knows what she did. It’s alright Ace, come in with me to see her,” an unfamiliar voice replied calmly.

“No, I can’t. She doesn’t want to see me,” Ace mumbled. You sat up even higher in your bed and tried to make noise to let him know that you desperately wanted to see him. But of course, your wired jaw prevented anything more than an animalistic grunt from leaving your mouth.

“That’s not true and you know it. I’ve been telling you that she’s been asking-” you heard Sabo rebut to Ace with the request you’d tried to deliver a few times.

“I’ll be on the deck when you’re done,” Ace said with finality. You’d heard that tone many times before and it didn’t bode well for your chances to see him. Falling back on your pillows you waited for the unfamiliar person to enter your room with Sabo. You knew that your reaction times were slowed due to having only one eye currently working but you still did a double take upon seeing another of your scientific heroes walking in through your door - Marco the Phoenix.

Your eyes widened as he walked towards you, the Whitebeard tattoo prominently displayed on his chest under his open shirt and doctor’s coat. You weren’t sure that it was hygienic to have your nipples exposed while treating patients but you certainly weren’t going to argue with someone who could cure injury with their devil fruit.

“Sunny, this is Marco the Phoenix, you may have heard of him. He and Ace were Commanders under Whitebeard together and he was the ship’s physician. He’s going to try to help your recovery if that is okay with you,” Sabo explained. You figured it was something like that but you were glad Sabo was telling you anyway. You nodded rapidly, it had been a lifelong dream to see Marco work.

“Wow, Sunny’s eager to meet you,” Sabo remarked with amusement, noting the gleam in your eye. You nodded even as a slight flush came to your cheeks from the attention.

“It’s an honor to meet you as well yoi,” Marco said with an easy smile. “You’re quite the person of interest in the New World right now,” he continued, snapping on medical gloves. You rolled your eyes, as if you could compare to the brilliance and splendor of Marco the Phoenix.

“Wait Sunny, how did you know about Marco? I thought you don’t know any famous pirates- oh. Let me guess - Marco published a paper in some medical journal?” Sabo asked dryly, giving you an eyebrow raise. You nodded even more enthusiastically, wishing you had your copies on hand for him to sign.

“I didn’t know anyone actually read those,” Marco said with a small laugh, unwinding his stethoscope from around his neck.

“What were they about?” Sabo asked. You wished you could gush about Marco’s work on cell death and disease impact factors but your jaw was still unmoving. Marco sat down on a stool near the bed and scooted closer to you. You didn’t realize how tall he was, even sitting he still loomed over you. Putting the stethoscope in his ears, he tapped the drum and began speaking to you.

“They’re not that interesting, I promise yoi,” Marco said with a grin. You frowned and huffed as best you could, you found them fascinating and were sure Sabo would too. “I’ll give you a routine assessment first, nothing that you haven’t already experienced. There aren’t any doctors on the RA crew but the nurses have been doing a fantastic job. I want to see where your injuries are in the healing process and determine what the next steps will be. Is that alright with you yoi?” Marco asked, his hands still on his stethoscope. You nodded, a little ashamed of the state of your body.

“Alright, I’m going to start with your internal injuries and work my way to the external ones. Are you knowledgeable about anatomy and physiology?” Marco asked. Sabo scoffed at the question even as you tilted your head from side to side in a “so so” meaning.

“She is, she’s underselling her intelligence again. She’s the world’s leading scientist on lineage factors, she knows more than anyone else in this hemisphere,” Sabo bragged on your behalf as you shook your head. If you were able to talk, you’d argue that you knew a lot about the human body at the microscopic level but not as much as a physician would about disease processes or treating injuries.

“So you must be the one who made Ace his new Mera Mera as well?” Marco asked, his hands palpating your tender jaw. You nodded shyly as the doctor began his examination.

Sabo POV

Sabo watched you flush even further as Marco complimented your skills and intelligence. Sabo knew it was a trick to keep you from focusing too much on your physical examination but it still annoyed him ever so slightly. Obviously, Marco wasn’t going to swoop in and take you away, Marco had retired as a pirate and was living on Whitebeard’s old home island. And yet, Marco was charming, charismatic, and you already liked him based on his intelligence. Sabo’s feelings of jealousy wormed through his gut as Marco spoke to you and assessed your condition.

Sabo’s feelings were compounded by the fact that he’d pulled back from you recently, wanting you to feel as comfortable as possible. He tried to spend all his limited free time with you but he always felt like it wasn’t enough. You always looked exhausted, even more than when he first met you. He knew you didn’t like depending on others after a lifetime of independence so he tried to give you as much emotional space as possible. Every time he saw your mitten bandaged hands it reminded him of that day all over again, of all that you’d given up for him and his brother. Which was why Sabo had forced Ace to call Marco despite his deep objections.

Ace had railed that Marco hated him, that he wouldn’t want to see him ever again, that Marco blamed Ace for Whitebeard’s death, that Marco blamed Ace for Blackbeard becoming an Emperor, the list went on and on. Sabo argued that none of that was true but Ace hadn’t budged. Sabo had resorted to bringing Ace down to the infirmary to look at you in recovery before Ace had agreed to call Marco. Hopefully Marco could heal your physical injuries then help Ace with his emotional ones. Ace had needed to speak with Marco for a long time and this would be a good opportunity to force the reunion.

Marco was an efficient doctor, checking Sunny over quickly but thoroughly. Sabo had to look away as Marco had skimmed his long fingers over your broken ribs, not wanting you to see his displeased face. Soon enough, Marco was rolling back from your bed and writing down notes on your chart. He had clipped and removed the wire from your jaw in anticipation of healing your bones shortly. You clutched Sabo’s hand as pain relief as Marco delicately removed the metal from your face. For what felt like the millionth time, Sabo wished he could bear the pain for you instead of watching helplessly from the sidelines.

“I’m going to start healing you yoi. I’m going to begin with your head then move down to your hands. I’m guessing you are itching for some independence,” Marco said, placing his stethoscope in the pocket of his doctor’s coat and removing his gloves, throwing them in the metal trash can. He raised his right hand with a smile, his hand already enveloped in blue flames. You nodded rapidly, excited for the scientific opportunity as Sabo smiled to himself.

“Start with her hands, she’s going to want to watch you heal on a microscopic level,” Sabo suggested while tossing you an indulgent look. You enthusiastically nodded at Sabo’s words and tried to grunt the word “please” to Marco.

“Sabo knows you well it seems. It doesn’t really make a difference where I start, I’m happy to begin with your hands yoi. My only request is that I also get to see the magnifications, I admit I’m incredibly curious,” Marco said, beginning to unwrap your hands. Sabo hid his reaction as he saw your deformed fingers set straight with braces. Your wistful gaze when you had looked at the clear night sky told him all he needed to know about your feelings towards the loss of your powers even after you’d gotten the seastone he’d put on you off. Sabo had put seastone on himself for a day during your initial recovery as penance but it wasn’t even close to what you’d had to endure.

Marco held your hands in his own, making you blush and look away. Marco looked at Sabo and mouthed the word “cute,” giving him a wink. Sabo didn’t react to the teasing doctor but shifted on his feet, waiting impatiently for your hands to be healed. Ace told Sabo that Marco’s healing flames weren’t painful but Sabo worried anyway, searching your face for any sign of pain. The only thing he saw was fascination as you watched the Phoenix fire dance over your skin. A few moments later, Marco took away his hands, letting you flex and bend your fingers slowly.

“They might be a little sore but they should be completely healed. Let me know if anything still hurts,” Marco added, now putting his hands on either side of your head. You held up your index finger in a sign for “wait,” and quickly made a rectangle with your fingers, moving the magnification to where Marco’s hands were in anticipation of him healing your jaw. Giving him a thumbs up to Marco, you waited eagerly, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. Sabo wanted to kiss you right there but knew it wasn’t appropriate. Marco began again and you magnified the area. You shook your hands rapidly as Sabo watched cells dance inside the magnification.

“Wow, I had no idea - this is incredible yoi. Look at that mitochondria you can even see -” Marco had taken his hand off the left side of your face to point out the detail of the cristae.

“Focus Marco,” Sabo snapped, wanting your torment to be over as quickly as possible. Marco raised an eyebrow at Sabo’s words and gave him a sharp look. Sabo had a feeling that if Sunny wasn't in the room Marco's talons would shortly be meeting Sabo's own.

“I assure you I’m focused yoi. I’ve been healing broken bones since before you were born Sabo,” Marco tossed at him.

“I apologize,” Sabo quickly supplied. He wasn’t in the position to bark orders at someone doing a huge favor, much less Ace’s former crewmate and lover.

“It’s alright, a lot of boyfriends get nervous yoi,” Marco said with a laugh, tension already gone. Sunny rolled her eyes at Marco’s words but was still unable to respond with his hands on her jaw. When done, Marco removed his hands as Sunny flexed her jaw, wincing as it opened wider than it had in weeks.

“Your whole body is likely to be sore, it’s not something I can fix for you yoi. It’s not an injury per se, it's your body warning you to take things easy. Let’s keep going and maybe afterwards you can rest in a hot bath. Sabo can arrange it, I’m sure,” Marco replied, putting his hands on your ribs. The rest of the healing seemed to take moments as Marco covered you in his healing flames. Sabo watched the kind flames dance over your skin, so unlike the destructive fire he and his brother wielded. He idly wondered if you would like him more if he had been the Phoenix as you watched Marco, transfixed by the wonder of his power. Once the healing was complete, Marco sat back down on the stool and looked at your face carefully.

“I’ve healed everything I can. Your bones are all healed and set correctly, your internal bleeding injuries are gone as is your concussion. But I will be honest with you and this may be hard to hear yoi,” Marco began. Sabo put his hand gently around your own, letting you squeeze his fingers from nervousness. “I can’t heal your sight in your left eye yoi. My powers only extend to healing, not to repairing things that have healed incorrectly. Your optic nerve was damaged and your eye has already healed itself. It hasn’t healed in a way we would like, but it has healed from the acute injury yoi. I can’t do anything for your sight,” Marco said solemnly. Your hand went limp in Sabo’s as he stroked your skin gently.

“So - I - my eye - I’m like this forever?” you said, breaking into a sob. Sabo remained strong for you as he wiped away tears from your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Marco said softly, touching your arm. He kept talking to you but your far away look told Sabo you weren’t listening.

“Marco, please give us a few moments,” Sabo said softly, his attention focused solely on you now. Marco nodded and left the room, closing the door. Your lip wobbled but you held yourself together while Marco could still be seen through the glass of the door. When the sound of Marco’s footsteps finally receded, you broke down. Sobbing loudly, you screwed your eyes tight as Sabo rubbed circles on your back with his hand. Sabo watched as both of your eyes spilled tears down your cheeks. It was a good sign of ocular health, but he didn't want to tell you that now. You pulled your hands out of his own to wipe your face with your sleeves as your cried quietly, your sobs the only thing in Sabo's mind. Mentally he prepared himself for the torrent of harsh words you were likely to tell him shortly. You'd tell him that you hated him - for the kidnapping, the seastone, the beating, and now the partial loss of your eyesight. And he'd take everything you had to say, he deserved it. Looking up at Sabo from where you lay in the bed, you hiccuped and began to speak.

“I-i’m sorry. I don’t want y-you or Ma-marco to think I’m ung-grateful. Thank you for hic saving my li-ife. I’ll th-thank Marco too. I’m j-just sad ab-about my eye. I c-can’t see as well or sniffle read as we-ll and I wo-won’t be able to research. Bu-ut at least now we m-match,” Sunny said with a watery smile, pointing to Sabo’s dead left eye.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff@epochal-oracle @divinedolliebun @rebeccawinters

#op x y/n #x reader #tw yandere #sabo x reader #sabo the revolutionary #yandere Sabo #under the microscope au #portgas d ace #Ace is being avoidant #he'll come around #he doesn't mean it #he's just in his feels #tfw you kill a lot of Marines :(#or :| they don't care much

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writhyv · 6 months ago

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𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ αℓℓ мʏ ωσяκƨ ιи σиɛ ρℓαcɛ

⋆ note: as of now, all my works are very much sfw. however, they may still include mentions of various objects, sensitive topics, and suggestive themes. please read each warnings (if provided) and be guided accordingly. thank you! ⋆

I-800-LOVE-YOU | nishimura riki x male!reader

YOUR IDOL GIVES YOU HIS NUMBER YOUR IDOL ANSWERS YOUR CALL YOUR IDOL WANTS TO SEE YOU AGAIN

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

YOUR DOMESTIC BOYFRIEND IS HERE YOUR DOMESTIC BOYFRIEND IGNORED YOU YOUR DOMESTIC BOYFRIEND AND YOU YOUR DOMESTIC BOYFRIEND COMFORTS YOU

tfw... | nishimura riki x male!reader

TFW WHEN A BAD DATE LEADS TO YOU... TFW WHEN YOUR DISTANCE CLOSES IN...

u got texts // drabbles by writhyv | text stories x reader

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

JAKE PULLS YOU INTO A KISSING BOOTH JAKE, YOU, AND AN APOLOGY TOO JAKE AND HIS HEART BEATING FOR YOU

CELEBRATING VALENTINE'S DAY 2025 [NI-KI] PUSHING HIS BUTTONS TO FINALLY MAKE HIM CONFESS [SUNGHOON] YOU WERE ALWAYS IN HIS HEART [JAY, JAKE, NI-KI, SUNGHOON] YOUR BF COMFORTS YOU FROM UNWARRANTED HATE [JAY] COMING HOME TO YOUR POUTY BF [JAY] A DAY WITH YOUR BELOVED SUPERSTAR [SUNGHOON] A TABLE FOR TWO AND SUNFLOWERS TOO [JAKE] THE EYES, THEY NEVER LIE [JAKE] JAKE AND THE SIMULATION [SUNGHOON] JUST A LITTLE BITE [NI-KI] A GIFT FROM JAPAN [JAKE] IN HIS WARMTH

got me shakin' | park jongseong x male!reader

way back into love | park jongseong x male!reader

4/9/25: This masterlist will be revamped soon as the 'LEGACY MASTERLIST'. Stay tuned for the new one!

#enha x male reader #enhypen x male reader #masterlist #writhyv #1-800-love-you #fairyofshampoo #tfw...#ugottexts #wouldyoukissme?#nav2

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ryngzmn · 11 months ago

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a surprising discovery

PAIRING: TFW (dean, sam, and castiel) x reader (platonic, ofc)

A/N: I had such a bad headache while making this drabble / fanfic (i’m leaning more towards drabble now that i have finished writing..)

SUMMARY: After finding a baby on a hunt, you and the boys have no idea what to do or how to take care of it.. until they discover something surprising about you.

While on a grueling hunt dealing with shapeshifters, you four had found a baby. A baby, of all things.

Dean didn’t really want to take it back to the bunker, thinking it would be another Bobby John type situation, but you and Sam had managed to convince him otherwise.

So now, here you guys were, all looking down at the baby sitting contently in a wooden crib. Their big, innocent eyes flickering from one person to another.

“So, what the hell are we gonna do with ‘em?” Dean asked gruffly, his arms crossed.

You looked over at Dean, raising an eyebrow. “Well we gotta take care of the little guy for at least a little bit.” Sam nodded in agreement with your statement.

You had focused back on the baby and leaned down a little bit, to which they let out a giggle and kicked its chubby legs.

A small yet fond smile curled on your lips. You had some experience with children considering you babysat during your teenage years before you got into hunting.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean had busied themselves with discussing a plan on what to do while you interacted with the baby.

They reached their chubby arms out in a silent and clear demand to be held. You complied almost immediately, your heart squeezing at how cute this little thing was.

Once the baby was settled in your arms, you held them against your shoulder. They squealed happily and started patting your face, exploring the expanse of skin with small hands.

…

“Since when did you know how to handle a baby?” Sam’s questioning voice broke you out of whatever happy-baby-trance you were in and you turned on your heel to face him.

“Uh,” You paused, your tongue briefly darting out to wet your lips. “I used to babysit around my neighborhood before I got into huntin’.”

“Oh so you’re like a baby whisperer, huh?” Dean smirked, his eyes drifting over to the baby who was giving you a gummy smile.

You shrugged, a smug smile forming on your face. “Guess so.”

Castiel, who had been silent for most of the time, finally spoke up. “They do seem to like you, not that they really interacted with the rest of us yet.”

You hummed, eyebrows knitting together a tad as you realized that at least one of them would want to possibly hold the baby.

“Anyone wanna hold ‘em?” You held out the baby at arms length, who started fussing as soon as they registered they were too far away from you.

“…or maybe not.” You added as an afterthought, bringing the baby back to your chest so they wouldn’t start crying.

As soon as the baby was tugged back towards you, they snuggled up to your chest, letting out a small yawn and their tiny fists clutching onto the collar of your flannel.

“Looks like they’re getting ready for a nap.” Castiel said matter-of-factly.

Sam chuckled quietly, “yeah, to be honest, I don’t even think they’ll let you put them down so you might have to keep carrying them.”

You laughed, nodding.

You realized that you probably didn’t want to stand and hold a baby so you prompted to move to the main room of the bunker so all of you could relaxing after the hunt and new, temporary addition to the team.

—————————————————————————

if you enjoyed pls like and reblog bc then it’ll give me motivation to make more stuff like this in the future! :D

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #team free will #tfw #spn #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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screams-in-writing · 1 year ago

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oops my hands slipped

what do you mean I’m obsessed over this man? I have no idea what you could possibly mean I think I like him…a normal amount. :)

A lazy day off would have been the same old, same old, had you not met a certain someone several months ago. A certain someone who appeared to have gotten it into mind that these days off were for the two of you to dote upon one another, not run errands.

That certain someone sure did love having your full undivided attention on him; delighted in every second of it, come to think of it. The novelty of being in the company of someone who wanted to be there. And when his mind wasn’t on his never-ending quest for high-ratings and whatever else he had planned (that he had yet to reveal), he showered that attention back on you with an intensity that bordered on almost alarming.

Mr. Puzzles was quite an intense individual when he was focused.

Which was why you were currently stuck in bed in your pajamas at ten in the morning, the man alongside you clearly requiring attention from the way he’d been curled up around you from behind for hours and hours.

For the time being, he was quite content to use you as a body pillow while he hummed some new song he wanted to implement into some future show. It was a novelty to Mr. Puzzles to be integrated into a team, after being on his own tor so long trying to do everting himself. It was slow going to convince him it’d turn out well; at the very least, he hadn’t dragged anyone into the world he held within his head for…at least a month, if that. He could be very passionate if an idea grasped him in the moment.

The static currently emanating from Mr. Puzzles’ face was a nice, warm and ticklish sensation to you; likely why he’d craned down to press the screen to the nape of your neck after avoiding the hair this past hour.

Muffled laughter sounded over the squirm of surprise from you when his arms gently squeezed tighter around your middle.

There came a light, heavy two to the side of your neck.

Then again, slower this time.

Nuzzling was awkward but somehow, the man with a tv for a head was able to make it work, somehow managing to be even closer to you as he pressed in to firmly rub his screen into neck and occasionally, shoulder, through fabric.

A cheerful morning news show clip briefly played in response to you asking him if he was awake and not just laughing in his sleep with automated laughs.

Tease.

With a wriggle backward, Mr. Puzzles reluctantly loosened his arms from around you to allow you to turn over in arms. From the expectant expression displayed on the screen tilted down toward you right now, Mr. Puzzles had an idea of what you wanted.

After receiving silent consent in the form of leaning his body, and in turn, his tv head closer, you reached up to lightly trace fingers along his screen. The light touch made Mr. Puzzles’ face and multi-colored smile switch briefly into static gray and white fuzz before a pleased expression popped up with a great big doofy grin that hid the, as you liked to call it, ‘crazy unhinged madman that trapped people like puppets in his head’.

It was a work in progress, that.

No, you did not want Mr. Puzzles to trap your coworkers in the world inside the tv he held sway over, even if you couldn’t help but laugh at the antics initially as well as the absurdity of it being possible (right along with a man who had a tv for a head). Right before scolding the man and making him reluctantly relinquish the unwilling participants aka a small number of your coworkers.

Currently, Mr. Puzzles face sagged into your touch, hands bracing on either side of your shoulders to loom over you without falling over. A quick, sneaky turn of one of the dials on the left side of his head made him jerk his body to the side and back. But then with a sly look, indulged you by briefly playing some cheesy romcom on the screen before Mr. Puzzles’ made his move when one of your hands went to shoulder.

Gently, carefully, he leaned his lanky body over so his screen could press to your face, making you close you eyes to enjoy the odd sensation of electrical currents and fuzzy static as a teasing voice spoke from the speaker of the tv.

“I see you, my newest star actor, quite close up. Have you anything to say to your…riveted watcher?”

“Your watcher of one for the morning?” Blindly reaching up, you turned the screen down a tad and planted a big ole kiss on the dumbass’ screen with an overdone ‘mwah’ sound. “How’s that for an answer, Mr. Host of one?”

Static sparked out the top of Mr. Puzzles’ antenna and the sides of his screen. His tv head briefly jerked back, revealed a slightly unhinged, if very intense look fixed directly on you.

“Quite the compliment, I’d say.” Mr. Puzzles purred, tone a little deeper as static overlapped his voice, digital eyes intent on you. “Would you care to do a repeat performance? To see if it was truly a 5-star rating for my show of one?”

You dragged this smug asshole man down by the shoulders to pepper his screen face in kisses while he mock-defended himself with dramatic flair. Then, all at once, Mr. Puzzles rolled the two of you over on the bed so you could sprawl yourself comfortably on top of him, playing with the collar of his dress shirt as he similarly fidgeted with your hair.

“Are you quite certain you don’t want to be my co-host?” Mr. Puzzles prodded with a wide screen across the screen.

“You asked me that already.” You pointed out, a faint shudder rolling through you as Mr. Puzzles leaned up to rest the side of his boxy tv head against your own to whisper smoothly, lowly, conspiringly.

“Until you give me a direct answer, my dear.”

#smg4 mr puzzles #Smg4 mr #smg4 mr puzzles x reader #x reader #come get y’all’s man #Forgive any mistakes I typed this on a phone at the end of the workday #TFW you realize you want to smooch a man with a tv for a head but not anyone in irl #my writing snippets

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 years ago

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Fight Club

Team Free Will & Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you start a fight club at school, and your protective big brothers and guardian angel find out about it.

“Is that a bruise?”

You tensed at Sam’s question as he grabbed your arm.

“Oh, I guess.”

“What’s it from?”

You shrugged, “Don’t remember.”

“That’s not a ‘don’t remember’ bruise,” Dean cut in. “I’ve got plenty of those. That’s a bad one. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “I mean, you should see the other guy.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. The boys were on their feet in a second, immediately alert.

“Other guy? You were in a fight?” Dean demanded.

“Who was it? Did he hurt you?” Sam asked.

“Does it have anything to do with this?” The three of you turned at Castiel’s question. He was holding up your backpack, which you’d left open, and clearly visible inside were a few stacks of bills; fives, tens, even twenties.

“What…where…did you steal that?” Dean demanded.

“No!” You insisted. “I earned it.” A small smile crept over your face. “You could say I fought for it.”

Sam groaned, but Dean and Cas still seemed confused.

“You what?”

“She started a fight club, Dean,” Sam sighed. “Which was very, very stupid.”

“Stupid?” You scoffed. “It was awesome! I always win, so—“

“So, one day’s gonna come when you don’t,” Sam interrupted. “Your fight skills are not for recreation, Y/N. They’re for self defense.”

“He’s right,” Dean said reluctantly. “Look, this is cool and all, and it looks like something I would’ve done at your age—“ Dean ignored Sam’s glare—“but Sammy’s right. You shouldn’t be using your skills to beat up kids for money, that’s not ok.”

“Says you,” you replied, grabbing your bag and heading for your room.

“Hey.” Sam grabbed your arm. “Kid, c’mon. Promise me no more fight club, ok? I know you think we’re lame for that, and that’s fine. Just promise me.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “I promise.”

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bitchylandtyphoon · 4 months ago

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Important to me

Part 2

Part 1 is on my page, let me know if you would like a masterlist :)

Shipping: Sam x reader

Click

It smells like pine. Something smells like pine. A very warmth encases you. Somehow, the mattress feels even better. You feel like you’re in a warm, pine-smelling, fluffy cloud. This was a nice dream so far.

click

A bright flash shakes you out of your dream. Was someone taking a photo? You hoped you wore pants to bed but you’re too comfy to care.

SNORE

A loud snore shakes you slightly awake. What the heck is snoring in your ear so loudly? You bury your head deeper into the pillow, hoping the sound will go away. It could have been the boys doing some maintenance repairs. The pillow seems flatter and harder compared to its usual snuggle material. You try to move your legs until you realize you can’t; some heavy weight is on top of you, holding you down.

click

‘What the heck is that sound?’ You open your eyes and expect to see your white pillow, but instead, you see a tanned chest. You’re lying on a large bicep of the same skin while the other arm is around your back, pushing your body against the other person. A state of confusion falls on you. What the heck happened?

Oh, right, you were in Sam's bed last night, and he fell asleep on you. How could you forget? You burn up realizing the situation you’re in; you are lying next to Sam.

click

That was definitely Dean.

Sam begins to stir up in the bed; his eyes look down to see your own.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry (Y/N). I didn’t realize.” Sam unwraps his body from yours and pulls the covers off.

Just as you are about to speak, a loud laugh erupts from the corner of the room.

“DEAN,” Sam walks around the bed, running to the elder brother. His hands grip at his brother's hands, attempting to get the phone. “Delete those right now; it’s not funny, Dean.”

“HAH, you need to pay me to do that. I’m never letting these go. I mean, look at you two, lovebirds.” Dean defends himself as he runs away from Sam.

You sit up to the side of the bed, your legs dangling off his high bed. Your (H/C) angled into a rat's nest, and you desperately need to leave before Sam comes in. His large, firm body was flushed against yours, and how his palms pushed you closer to him, or the way his legs entangled with your own, so dangerously close to your crotch. You cross your legs at the thought of being intimate with Sam, his warm body against yours, oh, how you would kill.

“UGH,” you groan at how easily he makes you red. You get up from his bed and walk towards the door. Your bare feet are cold against the tiles, but you have to get to your room.

You peer around the large door and look for any signs of the boys; even though you can hear them shouting close by, there is still a chance to escape.

—--

bzz

Reaching for your phone on the map table, a notification pops up on your phone. It’s from Sam. Dean could’ve been near, so you carefully opened the message.

Hey, I hope you’re not mad or anything from what happened this morning. I promise it won’t happen again. I also got Dean to delete the photos, so don’t worry about getting blackmailed by his dumbass. Sorry again

A smile creeps up from Sam’s sincerity; only he would be so thoughtful. You had to admit, though, that you wanted to see those photos.

Don't worry about it Sam, it is alright. Also, thank you for making Dean delete them. I would have suffered for ages. :)

After sending the message, you put the phone down and continue searching for new leads. The boys had been resting for about a week, and they already feel much better, thanks to you. Even though you’re not experienced enough to handle going out on a mission, other hunters still get to you for information. They got their break, but they had to work double time. This caused no hassle for you, as this is the best you could do for the boys.

Two hands grab onto your shoulders “Heya kiddo, whatcha doing?” Dean leans down to your face and searches your laptop. “Any new leads?” he asks, facing you.

“Mmm, not yet. Are you sure you and Sam are ready to go hunting? The other hunters seem fine.”

He moves away from you and sits down on the chair beside you. “We are fine. We need some action. I’ve gained 30 pounds from sitting around all day.”

“You chuckle at his comment. “You gain that much regardless of what you do with that diet.”

He looks at you with a hurtful expression “Don’t you dare talk bad about my beloved burgers. Plus, it’s your food that’s been fattening me up.”

“Hey! That was for you and Sam to share. It’s not my fault you ate everything in two days.” You cross your arms and look to the side. How could he accuse your cooking leading to his fattening?

“Her food is healthy, Dean.” A file falls in between you and Dean, a beige file with the Men of Letters insignia. It was filled with fewer papers than usual. “I’ve got a lead on the demon case from last week. A bunker about 3 hours from here has more information since this is all we have.”

Sam is standing at your side, his tall stature practically hovering over yours. He shoots a small smile at you, and you give him one back. Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you return to the file and go through it.

“Perfect.” Dean notices your sudden quiet nature as Sam approaches. “When do we go?” He asks.

“Uh, up to you, but the earlier, the better.” Sam replies.

“Okay, I’ll go get packed.” Dean gets up from his chair, stretching his arms as he walks towards his room. Sam takes the liberty to fill in Dean’s spot.

“So what are you working on?” Sam asks as he rolls his chair closer to yours, his thigh slightly bumping yours under the table.

“Some hunters are dealing with this one soul-taking monster, but this one leaves enough to control the people it feeds off. There are reports of people being hospitalized, but they come back fine, just out of their heads.” You turn to Sam but find his eyes on you instead of your laptop.

“Ahem—” he turns to face your laptop. “Well, that is weird. I haven’t heard anything about that. Have you checked the archives?” His eyebrows perk up when he asks

“Not yet, no, but I will.” You smile and give him a reassuring smile.

“Do you want help with it?”

You’re surprised at his offer, knowing he would rather be cooped up in the bunker with you and not go with his brother instead. “Are you not going out with Dean? I thought you said the earlier, the better,” you say as you quote him.

He sits back in his chair and looks up. “God, I hate demons.” He looks back at you. “Tell you what, we’ll get the information, and then I’ll come help you?”

You can’t turn down the offer with the way he gazes at you. His beautiful, innocent hazel eyes search yours for an answer. With a sigh, you say, “How about I come with you guys and help? It’ll be faster.”

His eyebrows narrow as a concerned expression falls onto him. It’s an unusual request, but it did make sense. A hand is put on your shoulder. “Are you sure (Y/N)? We don’t know what’s in this bunker, and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt.’

The sudden confession makes your heart melt; how could Sam Winchester care for me that much? You wrap your hand on top of Sam’s. “Hey, you’ll be there. I’ll be perfectly safe.” You give him a reassuring smile.

The silence allows you to gaze into each other’s eyes. There was mutual understanding.

“Sammy! Are you done packing?” A voice shouts out from the hall.

“Give me a sec,” Sam responds as his hand leaves your shoulder. “I’ll leave you to pack then; meet us in 15 mins.”

You nod in response as he leaves his room. You close your laptop and head to your room.

—

“Alright,” the sudden stop stirs you up from your nap in the backseat. You didn’t know when you dozed off, but it seems like you arrived at your destination. Getting up, you observed your surroundings to find it had been night now. The trip must’ve taken longer than 3 hours. You grimace at the lost time. It would have been your bedtime right now. You shake yourself awake and open the car door. The ground is pebbles of rocks, and Dean seemed to have parked in front of a forest. Its trees loom over and leave no space for moonlight.

“As if the forest isn’t scarier enough without sunlight.” You sigh as shivers run up your neck.

“Here, take this.”. Sam hands you a flashlight, and you grab it gratefully.

“Thank you.”

Dean, who is closer to the forest, looks back and asks, “Are you sure this is the place, Sam?”

“Yes, Dean, it is,” Sam yells back as he takes the luggage out of the car. They told you to pack up some clothes, having a hunch there would be rooms to sleep in the unfamiliar bunker. You go to grab your bag when you realize yours isn’t there.

“Did you see my bag-” As you look up to Sam to ask, you realize he’s already grabbed both of your heavy bags. “Wait, are you sure?”

“Sure about?” You don’t even know why you asked; he easily carries both of your bags with ease. There’s no way this man couldn’t carry it.

“Never mind, thank you.” Sam flashes you a smile, and you close the car trunk gently. You from behind the car as Sam walks to Dean. God, he must be insanely strong. Even during the dimly lit night, Sam’s back muscles can be seen through his plaid shirt. You can’t even imagine how strong he is; he could probably carry you.

Oh my god. Wrong place and wrong time (Y/N).

You run up to Sam and Dean, not wanting to stay far away from them. —

Dean has been leading all three of you deeper and deeper into the forest while you and Sam stay together as you are his flashlight.

*crack*

You flash your light at a rustling bush, its leaves falling to the ground. “What’s that?” Your worried voice concerns Sam.

“Stay close; we don’t know what’s out here yet.” Sam’s gruff voice gives you a sense of security as you gravitate towards his inner circle.

“Wait, where is Dean?” You asked as you realized the one with the map had disappeared.

Sam drops the bags and grabs his gun. “DEAN! DEAN, WHERE ARE YOU?” He then grabs your arm and pushes you two together. It was just you and him, alone in the forest. Even if this is what you want, you keep yourself quiet and concentrated.

Sam lowers himself to your level and whispers. “Don’t make sudden movements; just keep walking in the direction Dean did.” His eyes were not soft anymore; they were stern.

You nod in response as you stare behind Sam, his arm still clutching yours.

crack

A sound comes from behind you, and both you and Sam turn around. His body is right behind yours. You didn’t know what to do; you couldn’t believe this was what Sam and Dean had to deal with. You just hoped you wouldn’t die tonight.

"BOO!"

You scream and push yourself into Sam’s body, hiding yourself from whatever is in front of you. His one arm wraps around you, encasing it against his as his other hand holds an angel blade. However, there was no movement, just…laughing.

click

A big flash in front of you, and Sam blinds you to cover your eyes. Sam then lets go of your frame as he starts shouting, “What the hell is your problem, Dean? This is (y/n)’s first time. Don’t you have common sense?”

You look back to see Dean holding his phone and hollering at his silly joke. “Heyy, come on, she’s gotta expect it. Sorry, kiddo, but it’s for the memories.” You roll your eyes as Sam goes back for the luggage, and you pick up your fallen flashlight. “I found the bunker; you guys need to see this.” Sam and you look at each other. Hearing the news, this would be the start of the investigation.

Sam approaches you and asks if you’re okay, you give him a nod and follow Dean. Sam’s presence behind you is still as close as before.

“So what, do we say ‘open sesame or something? It doesn’t budge,” Dean says as he stomps on the opening in the ground.

You guide your light onto its door. “I’m pretty sure it’s one of those verbal passcodes; there seems to be a writing in another language. ” You gesture at the boys to move. “eht naelcnu yam ssap tub ton tuohtiw eht doolb fo a .naelc” You recite the passage in your head. What could this possibly mean?

“What are you thinking?” Sam steps beside you. “Do you think you can solve it?”

“Can you put my bag down?? I just need my laptop.” Sam does as instructed and hands over the requested items. You take a picture of the door’s scripture and insert the text into a document. The quote seems to reference clean and unclean, but you can’t decipher the rest of the words. Looking around, large stones are aligned in the shape of a cross.

“It has something to do with clean, unclean, and a cross. Any guesses?” You ask as you look up at the two Winchesters. They share a look of disappointment.

“It’s got to be the blood of a virgin. There’s no way we can get that open,” Dean groans as he picks up his bags and heads back. “We should’ve bought supplies.”

Sam pats you on the back for your good work. He picks up the bags and heads in the same direction Dean heads.

No, you came this far. A silver blade is pulled out of the hem of your pants; it was a gift from Bobby. You put it against the crevice of your hand and quickly pull the knife out. You look away in pain but open them quickly as the thick blood pools at the bottom of your hand and drips slowly onto the door.

Stupid, you think to yourself, you gave yourself an injury for nothing-

*grrrrrr*

The slow rumbling of the door beneath almost makes you fall until you catch yourself on the large rock behind you.

“Y/N, What’s going on?” Sam has rushed beside you and grabbed onto you and the rock. He watches as the door opens. “Did you?-”

“Yeah,” you muttered as you realized you admitted to being a virgin. You just know they would laugh at you, especially Dean.

The rumbling stops, and you both grab a steady balance. Your shy attitude comes back, and it hits you that you and Sam are alone. He just found out that you’re a virgin, too. Sam puts his bags down and reaches for something inside.

“Let me see your hand-”

“No, it’s okay-” He gently grabs your wrist and sternly looks you in the eyes.

“Trust me, this is for the best. An infection will not help our case.” He grabs a clear liquid and pours it onto a cotton pad. You hiss as the ointment burns your skin, and you hear a sorry muttered under Sam’s breath.

By the time Sam is done, Dean has returned with a confused expression. “Where did you get the blood?”

Sam turns around to show an empty vial, the same one that held the ointment. “I had one on my, forgot, sorry.”

Dean approaches the door and peers into the abyss underneath. “Shall we?”

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proverbsss · 2 years ago

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reading you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw

Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass

prompt(s): "Me. You. Bed. Now." [from this post]

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

anon: I had a normal amount of fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) i wanna do a pt. 2 because ofc i do,, honestly I got a lil hot n bothered lmao

notifs: paul hill is a tease!! ; shoe-grinding ; fluffy smut ; hierophilia ; you're father paul's dirty little secret ; denial ; reader begging ; reader's down HORRENDOUS ; terms used: good girl, slutty thing, pet

"You've been lying there moaning for ten minutes." Father Paul chuckles, trying to focus on his reading.

You feel your leg twitch as you lay on your stomach, looking a bit dazed across the room. A giggle escapes you. In your mind's eye a constant stream of images plays- every dirty thing you’ve done with Father Paul in the last 48 hours, a rare weekend’s reprieve from prying Beverly Keane, sitting bedside with her sister or aunt or who-the-hell cares on the mainland. It was too easy to sneak into the house behind St. Patrick’s, and too goddamn pleasurable to leave after the first night. A delightful ease of domesticity has settled over the two of you. And you’re even more whipped for the Father than you were when this whole messy arrangement began.

"I can't help it-"

"It's understandable to whine like a whore while I'm still inside you, but cooing like that when I'm not even touching you is a little ridiculous." Smug, he licks his finger and turns a page. "A man's ego can only grow so big."

“What are you reading?” you ask, completely uninterested, and your voice betrays it. You might enjoy a good book now and again, but something worlds more tempting is sitting before you. In his jeans and tee shirt, only his glossy ankle boots remaining, Paul is a rare sight out of uniform, like something sent from heaven. Or Hell. Both, somehow.

“You asked me that fifteen minutes ago. Or did you forget already?” He shoots you a disapproving, but playful look. He can hardly resist you more than you can him. Hardly. There is that last smidgeon of reserve that Paul prides himself on. He can’t be bothered to think of you as a sin, because life’s become far, far more complicated in the last few months than any one man can hold in his head, and because it feels like paradise to touch you.

Caught in your inattention, you abandon the ruse of asking about his book. "You fucked me too good...." You whine.

"You're going to complain about it?" He laughs at you.

"You're laughing at me."

"Of course I'm laughing at you," he admonishes. Not to be taken in by your wiles, Paul's eyes trace the paragraph he's started unsuccessfully three times.

"You whine before I fuck you, you whine while I fuck you, and you whine after I've fucked you. You're silly."

The vision renews itself in your mind of last night creeping around in here, your excitement waiting in the antechamber of St. Patrick’s late at night, Paul sneaking up on you in the dark and taking you in that muggy little den where they keep the wine and spare things. You want him to grunt against your ear like that again, to fuck you like he needs you in order to breathe.

"I'm not silly!" You gasp out. He hears the difference in your voice and scans your body with his eyes. Grinning. He licks his bottom lip and pretends the fool. “I want it, please, I want it, I don’t caaaare…” Your caterwauling would be annoying if it wasn’t so bone-deep genuine. Paul could probably keep you here forever as a pet, a secret from innocuous parishioners, visitors from all walks of life, and you’d be satisfied as long as he used you from time to time. Fed you.

“Oh, that’s undignified.” He smiles, turns the page and hopes he can pick up without the aid of the passage his mind simply refused to retain.

You get on all fours and start to crawl over to him. You tug on the leg of his jeans, utterly debased.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” his tongue flicks and flutters around the word in a musical way that you know you could find better uses for. You nod. His voice. He could guide you anywhere with it. To make things worse, he imitates you. The facsimile of your lust in his voice is enough to make you jump him. “‘Father, I can't focus on my book....Father, please fuck me with your fingers, I can't without it, I need it...I told you pack things to stay because I imagined I’d be enjoying some downtime other than between my sheets.'"

You bite your lip, the adoring way you look up at him unfairly reminiscent of Biblical portraiture, the Madonna (too ineffably ironic), Saint Lucia, devout, suppliant little succubi. Paul’s heart breaks a little, and his cock twitches with interest, which he endeavors to suppress.

“What’s that look for, child?” He plays up the religious bent of your dynamic, something that presses inexpressibly sinful and delicious buttons in your dirty mind.

"I do need you."

You pout. Your words with Paul repeating them was enough to rev your proverbial engine. You shift just the littlest bit, yet the friction of the floor underneath you is enough to tease out a whimper. Not totally on purpose, but not totally by accident. John chuckles again.

“Present tense?” He pretends to turn a page, but he’s not reading a damn thing now.

"I need you all the time you're not in me.” It’s filthy, but it feels true in these moments when all the thoughts are leaving your head empty.

He smiles one of his private smiles. His eyelids crinkle as he reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Let's not be pornographic, huh?"

"I wanna fuck again..."

"What else is new?"

"You've ruined me." He looks at you then like you’re something to eat. The book is shut and put down. You have your beloved hot priest’s attention. His eyes ask, smoldering, what will you do now you have it?

“You have my boot. Or aren’t you smart enough to get yourself off.” His tone shifts and a shadowy, serious dominance settles in his countenance. Every behavior, every quirk of his expression, curve of his smile, owns and owns you. He may plead and beg to bury his head between your thighs from time to time, on one occasion he may have shown up at your door, his satchel a deceptive front for rope and ribbon, which you were to restrain and blindfold him with. Life’s too short for dynamics that don’t shift and change like the tides. But in this moment, this energy, you are his. And he intends to impress that upon you.

You gape at him just a moment, heady lust clouding your already addled brain. Then slowly, carefully, you adjust your position, grab the upper part of Paul’s calf, and hoist your lower body up onto his shoe, your pelvic bone bumping his shin. Any hesitations or embarrassment that linger in you drown in the deeper, sweeter excitement of feeling some real friction as you roll your hips. Oh. God.

This might be the senseless, reckless need talking, but fuck. Just the sensation of the toe of his shoe right between your thighs, exactly where you need it, makes you feel a little bit crazy. You look up at him in awe, and thank God he’s not picked up his book again but instead is sitting comfortably, his gaze dropped low to watch you, his groin thrusting the tiniest bit forward at nothing, too much nothing. He groans, and you chase your pleasure like a thing possessed.

Words slip out of your mouth without a shred of logic behind them, and Paul tells you to repeat yourself. He bites his bottom lip as he watches you. “Hello? Still a brain in there?"

“I said you make me so sensitive,” you mumble, finding a new groove in the contour of his shoe, where it meets his ankle, and leaning on his knee, shaking, groping for his thighs, all involuntarily. Your dripping, dripping on his shoe, and the thought of how uncivilized that is makes Paul bite his fist.

"Uh huh, so it's all my fault, then."

"Yes..."

"Yes, 'what'?"

"Yes it's all your fault, Father."

“It’s my fault you’re going to cum on my shoe?”

You whine again. Your soul’s leaving your body, want spreads through every inch of your body, intense and blinding, high, so high.

“C’n I cum, please, can I cum?” You pant, feeling his hands wrap around yours, warm and loving.

“Look at me, pet.” He orders. You obey. His irises envelop you. You steady yours on them, trying to get a grip, breath filling your belly and leaving your parted lips in rapid gasps. “No.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. Disappointment isn’t the word for it, desire lets itself out as a sound. You slow down, somewhere in a high place you hear him say:

“Stop grinding, slutty thing. Your Father told you ‘no.’”

You sink against him, laying your head on one of his thighs. He kisses the top of your head, and murmurs, “Good girl. Good girl, good.”

Fireworks are setting off under your skin, your thighs are trembling, every bit of you is sticky. “That wasn’t easy, I bet.” He says, voice condescending and sweet, but every bit as needy as you are. You make another noise in response.

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he takes your chin into one of his hands, lifts your head. He kisses you again, with a fierceness that just sharpens your feeling. “I’m not even close to done with you.” He rests his in your neck, kisses you once, twice, up your jaw, on your cheeks, the ear he can reach. He bites your earlobe and almost hisses, “Me. You. Bed. Now.”

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

I now have a ko-fi! Consider checking it out to support my addiction to cold brew coffee, or commission something special all your own 🖊️

#midnight mass #john pruitt #father paul hill #thirsting hours #monsignor pruitt #monsignor john pruitt #father paul #fic tag #midnight mass fic #father paul x reader #hamfam smut #my blabber #tfw you can't even write your smut drabble well bc you're feral for the man you're writing about #ko fi commissions

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enhalusional · 10 months ago

Text

Excerpt: That Feeling When

Genre: Romance, Reverse Harem

Full version on Wattpad

*****************************

As much dazed Leah was, they were as well, if not more. And then people had the audacity to side eye her as if she stuck out like a sore thumb among them. As if she wasn't enough of a beauty to be Enhypen's lover.

Not long until I can show you off to the world as mine. Heeseung thought. Would it be bad if I openly declared my love in the middle of the concert?

Or if I sit down on the stage in front of you while singing Polaroid love? Jake thought. Shamelessly lock eyes with you without worrying about the cameras?

Because boy he regretted not making a move earlier itself. He had always had that thought in his mind but now that thought was searing into his brain. He could only soothe himself that he could become her most loved soon if he played his cards right.

Sunghoon forgot how to breathe. He had picked the dress for her. Imagined how pretty it would look on her. But shit he wasn't prepared to see a literal angel.

Laugh at me, love. He thought. You got me dreaming of an altar even before a relationship.

Let my wait come to an end. Let me lose myself to you. Today is the day I finally surrender.

After all those restraints Jay had for himself and others, if things went well, he could finally be free of the worries plaguing his mind.

Jungwon stood at the back. He took a shallow breath. Was the air even reaching his lungs? Doubtful. He was back in that car. Back in the moment when the world around him had stopped. Back to the pounding in his ribcage when he had first seen her. But he also had this pit in his stomach. Like he was standing on an important stage all alone. With millions of eyes on him. But it was just her. The stars in her eyes locked him in place and sucked him in.

Can I only be your idol instead? Can I seek you out in the crowd and perform like you're the only one that matters? Maybe there will be a time when I can do just that without fearing for your life.

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supernaturalscribe67 · 1 year ago

Text

Unwarranted

Words: 4,983

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Team Free Will x Male!ExAngel!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Mention of past sexual harassment, sexual harassment, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Humans are interesting and complex creatures, and ever since the reader lost his grace, he had to learn to become one. Luckily, he had his friends by his side to help him through his trials and tribulations. What happens when he's face-to-face with a human experience he never anticipated, and how will Team Free Will help him resolve his issue?

Request:

Hi! I hope you're having a good day/night. This request is very specific. I would write it myself, but im awful at it. I hope you don't mind, lol.

May you do (ex?)Angel!Male!reader x TFW (platonic obv). You can make it where Reader joined after the angels fell and was castiels past battle partner and was good friends with him, or something else if you'd like.

Reader lost his grace after a rogue angel took it from him. He has no idea how to be human and struggles a lot, even with the help of Dean, Sam, and Castiel. Anyways, to get to the point- Reader picked a pretty attractive vessel, so both men and women hit on him a lot when the group goes to diners or bars and most of the time Reader wanders off to explore since hes never really gone to earth before so the boys never notice, and he doesn't know how to react or what to do when they start to get touchy, only that he doesn't feel comfortable with it at all, but he thinks if he tells them to stop its a form of being rude, so he never says so. the person usually stops when they realize Reader isn't having the type of reaction they were looking for.

When Reader mentioned this to the boys randomly, they realized that Reader didn't know that it was bad that they were touching him and explained what it was, what to say, and do when that happens and comforts him when he finally cries as a human.

Anonymous

A/N: I am so sorry for going off the grid for a while! Honestly, keeping track of dates and time frames has not been my strong point, especially with everything going on with work. Luckily I'm almost done with another request as well and will have that up by this weekend! I hope this gives the request justice. As always, feedback is very much appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Humans are interesting and complex creatures, each with their own thoughts, wants, needs, and interests. When (Y/N) first joined Castiel on Earth two years prior, he was amazed by the array of personalities and emotions. No two people are alike, but, due to the vast differences, many of them can be categorized under three distinct titles; good, neutral, and evil.

The good people are the ones who are selfless. They take the first step when it comes to helping others. They aren’t perfect but they are as close as anyone can be. Only a small amount of people fit into the category of ‘good’, most of which find themselves canonized into sainthood years after death. Many strive to be classified under such a prestige title, but few make the cut. However, just because someone isn’t worthy of the title, doesn’t make them a bad person automatically.

Neutral individuals are what most would describe as your ‘average Joe’. It is the category in which most people lie. They are neither good nor bad. The choices they make in life come with a mix of positive and negative intentions. An example of a neutral person could be someone’s English teacher, who partakes in volunteer work after hours, or your boss, who had just been caught cheating on his wife with Jim from the mailroom. Just because people do bad things, doesn’t make them inherently evil.

True evil is much darker. An individual who would put a demon to shame with their actions, thoughts, and desires. One with little regard for the well-being of others. Ones that hurt others purely for self-gratification. To gain an advantage. Those are the ones that end up in prison or a seat in Congress. They’re usually manipulative, have a silver tongue placed in their mouth at birth, and can easily coerce those who are weak and gullible.

(Y/N) had met his fair share of individuals from all three categories throughout his time on Earth, supernatural entities excluded. At first, with his angelic powers, he was able to make an assumption of others based solely on their thoughts. Ever since the fall, however, his judgments on people had become rather askew. He was able to get the full experience of being human - not able to truly tell what one was thinking during various interactions - and he would be lying if he said he enjoyed it. Rather, the lack of understanding when it came to others caused him to develop a sense of paranoia. The last thing he wanted was for others to assume the worst of him. Even as an angel, he would treat the worst of the worst with as much kindness as he could muster.

Little did he know that the paranoia would lead to his downfall and a deep realization of how evil some people could be.

The first couple of weeks after his grace was stolen, (Y/N) was lost. He knew next to nothing about maintaining the necessary needs to keep his body alive. It was all tedious in his eyes. Why did humans need to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom so much throughout the day? Who possibly had the time to do so? Do they have to thread their needs into their schedules for work and school? On top of that, why did humans need to pay for food and water? Were they not necessities? Why would someone need to pay to survive? (Y/N) held a plethora of questions in his mind that still go unanswered.

Thankfully, Castiel, Sam, and Dean were all there for him, guiding him through the processes necessary to provide for his new form. It took a while for him to get the hang of it - the most overwhelming thing was when he was introduced to a large variety of foods. All the new flavors and textures send his tongue into sensory overdrive. Dean was more than happy to realize, though, that the two of them were rather fond of the same flavor of pie.

With the loss of his grace came the depletion of his strength. He was no longer invincible to man-made weaponry. Because of this, and since Sam and Dean’s jobs were so physically demanding, they spent weeks in training. Blades, firearms, and hand-to-hand all had their challenges, but (Y/N) was a quick learner, something the brothers respected him highly for. Within a month and a half, he was on the road with them, hopping from case to case.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

And true it was. The time he had spent with Castiel and the Winchesters was extensive, and there was never a dull moment. Away from the darkness and the monsters that crept in the night, Sam and Dean were playful jokesters. Childish, yet mature when they needed to be. It was noticeable that Castiel had also developed certain aspects of their personalities, as he was more lighthearted than when (Y/N) first met him. As time passed, (Y/N), too, started to display those characteristics. He felt like a member of the team. A real Winchester. For the first time since the fall, he felt at home.

*~*

(Y/N) had been to a handful of bars since he turned human, before becoming an honorary member of the Winchester family, and there was one fact he could confidently state; he didn’t like them.

Sure, he met some rather nice people while at said bars, mainly the middle-aged female bartenders who gave off a motherly aura, but with every kind individual he saw, he encountered twice as many assholes. Those were the ones that drunkenly called him slurs even though they knew nothing about him, the ones that shoved him out of the way when they wanted to get to the bar, or the ones that continuously pushed their limits on his personal boundaries.

Unfortunately, he had experienced the latter more than he would have liked.

He couldn’t quite describe how he felt when he had those interactions. When a bar patron would press themselves against his back or chest, touch his ass or thighs, or even leave kisses on his neck, shoulders, cheeks, and lips. It was decided, though, that he was extremely uncomfortable. Why would he possibly feel that way? He assumed that touches and kisses were how humans expressed affection towards one another. So, why didn’t he like it? He chalked it up to not being used to that form of affection or affection in general. Surely, he was bound to get comfortable with it eventually.

After-hunt celebrations were common with the Winchesters. Either the day of or the night after, they would all gather at the nearest watering hole, grab a drink or two, and then head back to the motel. Sometimes, Sam or Dean would abandon the group to retreat with a romantic partner, but (Y/N) would always stick with Castiel and the remaining brother. He never had any interest in human relations. It was a new, complex situation outside of learning to be human. He was just getting used to that concept, and he had no desire to learn about other aspects of humanity yet.

Classy Cline’s sat on the edge of a small town in Washington state. While its name suggested an upscale establishment, the place was, in all actuality, a shit hole. The booths and barstools were ripped at every corner of the seam, the tables were chipped and scuffed, and it appeared as if the employees hadn’t swept or mopped the floor in well over a decade. They had all been to nasty bars in the past, but Classy Cline’s took the cake.

“I don’t even wanna drink from this glass,” Sam mumbled as he eyed the pint glass Dean had placed in front of him.

While aesthetics weren’t on Cline’s side, the beer looked more than appetizing. An amber/gold liquid, topped with a beautiful, white head. Any beer enthusiast would foam at the mouth at the sight. The glasses, contrary to the floors, looked spotless. If they had put as much effort into cleaning the building as they did disinfecting the glassware, lines would be out the door, and Cline would be a millionaire.

“Oh, don’t be a baby, Sammy,” Dean rolled his eyes and gave a beer to (Y/N) and Castiel. “It may not live up to its name, but the beer sure looks good.”

“Thank you, Dean,” (Y/N) and Castiel spoke in unison.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Dean shook his head and sat down next to his brother. “It’s as if you two are constantly in sync.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he cupped the glass with one hand, condensation coating his palm. “We’re an American boy band from the 90’s?” He cocked his head to the side.

Dean froze, the glass inches from his lips as he shot him a questioning glance. “While I’m proud of you for remembering what I taught you about music, that’s not what I meant. ‘In sync’. Two separate words.”

“Oh…”

“(Y/N) and I have worked together for well over a century. We’re bound to have some similarities.” Castiel explained.

Dean shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” he took a sip of his beer.

(Y/N) noted Sam’s hesitancy to drink, so he took a moment to examine the liquid himself. It looked clean, safe, and better than many other beers he had drank before. He took a swig and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still very cold. A layer of foam coated his upper lip. Sam picked up his glass and examined the bottom.

“Will you stop that?” Dean scolded. “The beer is fine, Sam, you’re not going to die. You look like an idiot.”

“Well, excuse me for being skeptical, Dean! Have you seen the state of this place? I believe I have a right to be concerned.” Sam hissed.

“The beer is very pleasant, Sam,” (Y/N) smiled as he took another long swig, downing half the pint.

Sam slowly nodded. “I can tell,” he mumbled and glanced down at his glass. He hesitated for a moment before he took a careful sip, letting the liquid rest against his tastebuds before he swallowed. He hummed and raised his brows. “Wow, that’s pretty good.”

“See? Your big brother knows a thing or two about beer,” Dean smiled.

A bartender waltzed into view - an overworked twenty-something with her dirty blonde hair tossed back into a bun that she should have fixed hours ago. She sat a rocks glass in front of (Y/N), the ice emanating a clink inside as it shifted. He stared and intensely studied the dark liquid.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I didn’t order this,” he looked up at her.

The bartender sighed and gestured towards the bar. “The man over there sent it,” she grumbled, her voice unenthusiastic and laced with exhaustion. She didn’t give him any time to further investigate before she swiveled through the booths and tables, vanishing into the crowd of regulars.

The group looked at the drink with curiosity before their attention shifted to the bar. Only one of the patrons had their gaze glued to the hunters. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with short, salt-and-pepper hair decorating the top of his head and a beard to match. Age lines crinkled the corners of his mouth and eyes. A leather jacket covered his broad shoulders and the jeans he wore left little to the imagination. When (Y/N)’s eyes connected with the stranger’s, the man smirked and winked. (Y/N) continued to stare at him, lips slightly parted, until he felt an elbow in his side. His gaze shot over to the eldest Winchester.

“Give him a smile and a wave. That shows him you appreciate it.” Dean said through a smile.

“Oh,” (Y/N) raised his brows and looked back at the man, whose eyes were still on him. He gave a small smile, followed by a timid wave.

The stranger grinned before he turned his head away. (Y/N) looked down and studied the glass once more. The liquid was a slightly darker shade than the beer, but more transparent. When he picked it up, the liquid sloshed inside. The smell was strong but slightly sweet. Whiskey. A sip of it caused him to cringe. It was Fireball. Not the best choice to send a stranger across the bar, but to each their own.

Dean leaned in close to him, his cheeky grin still prominent. “You should go over and talk to him.”

“Why?”

“He just gave you a drink. He wants to talk to you.”

(Y/N) gave Dean a confused stare. “How does that-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean waved him off. “He’s flirting with you by sending over the drink! You should go flirt back.”

(Y/N) looked from the drink to Dean, from Dean to the stranger. He was a very attractive man, but (Y/N) was far from interested in flirtation. However, if Dean thought he should, what could go wrong? He trusted Dean’s advice.

Hesitantly, (Y/N) stood, the glass of Fireball in hand, and made his way over to the bar where the gentleman sat. He took the empty barstool next to him. The man looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

“Good to see you up close,” he said and turned his body to face (Y/N). “You’re even cuter than I thought. Chris,” he held out his hand.

This is a handshake. This is how strangers greet each other.

(Y/n) grasped Chris’ hand and shook it gently. He noticed how firm his grip was. “My name is (Y/N),” he said.

Chris smirked. “A beautiful name for a beautiful man,” he pulled his hand away and casually placed it on (Y/N)’s knee. “I’ve been coming here for, close to, fifteen years, and I have never seen anyone as good-looking as yourself. You new around here?”

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted to Chris’ hand before they returned to his face. “My friends and I are on a trip.” He replied. It’s a classic lie most hunters use and one that was taught to him early on in his training.

“Ah, and how long will you be staying?”

“I believe this is the last night we’re here.”

“You’re not sure?”

“My friend, Dean, drives us. He knows more about our itinerary than I do.”

“A ‘go with the flow’ kind of man. I like it.”

As they continued to talk, Chris’ hand ventured further up (Y/N)’s thigh, squeezing the flesh on his leg from time to time. Simple conversation switched to flirting rather quickly, the majority of it one-sided. What started as cheesy ‘first date’ type questions turned risque in the blink of an eye. At first, they were easy questions that (Y/N) could answer without an issue, but once they started to get dirty, his mind turned blank. Half the vocabulary Chris used was new to him. While he knew all of them revolved around sex, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the definition, regardless of the context clues provided.

He could feel the familiar pit in his stomach as the questions droned on. The sensation that he couldn’t quite give a title to yet. At least, not an accurate one. ‘Uncomfortable’ seemed as if it fit too loosely for the circumstance. It felt as if there were a swarm of bees buzzing around in his stomach, moving from his gut to his chest periodically.

Chris leaned in close to (Y/N)’s ear, his warm, whiskey-filled breath caressing his cheek. (Y/N)’s eyes were cast down. He had lost the ability to maintain constant eye contact when the mood shifted, and the bees began their attack.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Chris asked. “I could show you a thing or two.”

When Chris’s hand landed on (Y/N)’s crotch, every muscle in his body was on fire as they clenched tightly. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide and his body froze. The bees didn’t just fly, they infiltrated his entire nervous system. He felt an overwhelming need to retreat like one would in a battle they knew they couldn’t win. But he wasn’t in a battle. It was a simple conversation. Why did he feel like that?

Chris pressed small kisses on the back of (Y/N)’s ear. (Y/N) inhaled and turned his head slightly, the need to get away from Chris strong. Chris immediately stopped and opened his eyes. He paused for a moment before he pulled away and sighed.

“I see you’re not as interested as I thought you were,” he gave a tight smile, pulled out his wallet, and slammed a twenty on the bar. “Thanks for nothing.” He grumbled before he got up and stormed away.

With his presence gone, (Y/N) felt a sense of peace and ease wash over him. The beating of his heart inside his chest began to lessen and return to a normal pace. With a glance down at his hand, he noticed the way his fingertips trembled. That hadn’t been the first time someone else had gotten so bold with touching him, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. When was that feeling going to go away?

After a minute or so passed, he was able to compose himself enough to stand from the barstool and wander back to the table where Sam, Dean, and Castiel sat. He joined them without a word, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, and grabbed his lukewarm beer. There was no chance he was going to drink anymore that night. Not with his stomach as uneasy as it was.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) spoke.

“You sure?” Dean chimed in. “Guy looked like he had a stick up his ass when he left.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I believe he just wanted to leave.” He tried to keep his voice as straight as possible. He could tell his nerves hadn’t fully recovered.

Dean shook his head. “Well, his loss.”

*~*

One thing (Y/N) adored about being human was the way showers made him feel after a hunt. He never quite realized how tense his muscles could get until the hot water caressed his limbs. It was as if all the adrenaline was washed from his body. It made him feel refreshed. Renewed.

That night, he got the last shower. The water wasn’t as hot as other showers he had taken, but he would accept warm any day. By the time he left the bathroom, clad in a pair of night pants and a loose t-shirt courtesy of the youngest Winchester, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were dressed to leave. Another post-hunt celebration. Dean glanced at (Y/N).

“You’re not coming?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head and walked over to his bed. “Not tonight, no.”

“Why not? You never miss out on a bar.”

(Y/N) settled into the bed, and sat up with his legs crossed. “I notice that humans get very physical when they are at bars. I’m not quite used to it yet, so I think I’m going to wait until I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, (Y/N)?” Castiel asked.

“The touching.”

The three of them shared a concerned look before Sam waved his hand dramatically, eyes closed tightly.

“Wait,” he reached a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean ‘get used to’?”

“Well, I’m not accustomed to the way humans express attraction. I surely wasn’t aware that there was as much physical contact involved. So, I figured it was something I would be more comfortable with as time went on. I mean, I never knew strangers were so interested in touching each other’s genitalia.”

They all furrowed their brows, confusion etched perfectly on their faces, and slowly made their way over to the bed. Sam sat at the edge next to (Y/N), Dean stood next to him, and Castiel sat on the opposite side of the bed from Sam.

“(Y/N),” Sam started, his voice soft and steady, the same voice he used when talking to the families of victims. “Have you…given these people permission to touch you?”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side, slightly taken aback by the question, as it was something he had never even considered before. Had he permitted them to touch him? He could not recall. Then again, he didn’t remember them asking. He took a moment to think back on the times he had been in bars since he became human.

“No,” he answered. “The first couple of times it happened, I pulled away from the touch, as it made me rather uncomfortable, but they would just get upset. One man told me it was wrong to ‘lead him on�� and then deny his touch. After that, I let people touch me. I would like a break from it for tonight.”

“(Y/N), other humans need permission to touch you,” Castiel said.

“But they get upset-”

“To Hell with them being upset,” Dean interjected. “No one has a right to touch you, especially if you don’t want them to.”

“Is that why that one guy left the last bar we went to left? You wouldn’t let him touch you?” Sam asked.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks and neck heat up. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hide his face. Was it because of the answer to the question? Was it because of the question itself? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of the sense of dread, but he knew it wasn’t going to vanish anytime soon.

He shook his head, eyes cast down to his hands. “I let him touch me. I assume it was because I didn’t respond when he asked me to leave with him.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he ran a hand down his face. “Son of a bitch,” he growled and began to lightly pace between the motel beds.

Sam slowly shook his head. “(Y/N), those people are horrible. You should never touch someone without consent, and you should never let anyone touch you if you are uncomfortable with it. Do you understand?” His eyes were laced with sympathy.

(Y/N) went to say something, but he felt a lump in his throat prevent him from doing so. Instead, he just gave a short, brief nod.

“I can only imagine how tough it was to become human. To lose all that power. You may not have the power to heal us anymore or read others’ minds, but you are still your own person, (Y/N). You have the power to tell people to keep their hands off of you. You have the power to let yourself have a good time at these places. It doesn’t matter what other people think about your choices. In the end, all that matters is you, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) sniffled, and he felt as if his head was pulsing. Tears sprung to the corner of his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks. For the first time since he lost his grace, he cried. It wasn’t loud and dramatic, but, rather, soft.

It explained so much. How he hated the way bar patrons touched him, the sinking feeling when they got too close, the panic that coursed through his veins. That was no flaw on his part, but a flaw on the strangers. What they did was wrong, not him.

And that validation broke him.

(Y/N) immediately knew he hated crying. His chest ached as the silent sobs racked his body. In a way, it was relieving, though. It felt as if all of the pent-up discomfort was being released. As if he was reborn. Still, it hurt worse than it did comfort him.

Castiel was the first to respond as he placed a gentle hand against (Y/N)’s back, Sam, being the closest, engulfed him in a near bone-shattering embrace, and Dean halted his paces to kneel beside the bed, one of his hands landing on the small of his back. (Y/N) closed his eyes tight and leaned his head against Sam’s chest. Their touch made him feel safe. This was a good touch. This was how touch should make him feel. He shouldn’t be forced to feel uncomfortable to please others, because, in reality, some people aren’t going to like him, even if the reasons are far from valid. It was a harsh reality, but as long as he had his family by his side, he didn’t mind if the whole world hated him.

After a few quiet minutes, filled with silent cries, the tears stopped. (Y/N)’s eyes were bright red and puffy, and he occasionally sniffled.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice soothing.

(Y/N) lifted his head from Sam’s chest and glanced over at him. Sam pulled back a bit so the embrace wasn’t nearly as intense.

“If you’re ever in a situation like that, where some douchebag won’t keep his hands off of you, all you have to do is say the word and we’ll kick his ass for you.”

“What if it’s a woman?” He asked quietly.

Dean opened his mouth to give a quick answer but shut it as he thought about it. “Then we will have Cas bring Jody or Charlie in to kick her ass. The point is; fuck everyone else.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “Does that not mean to have intercourse with them?”

Dean sighed. “Sam, Cas, a little help?”

“What Dean is trying to say,” Castiel chimed in. “Is that you should not prioritize other peoples’ desires over your comfort. You are more important than a stranger. They are not important, you are, and what other people think doesn’t matter. If someone does not listen to you when you deny them, we will do everything in our power to protect you. We still care about you, and want what’s best for you.”

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. That’s exactly what I meant.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back his smirk. “Look, we know how tough it is to be human. Dean and I have been dealing with this our whole lives. We know that there are setbacks that come with the package, but there are also a ton of fun experiences. We don’t want some jackass to ruin it for you. Cas said it better than Dean or I could. We care about you and want to do everything we can to look out for you. You deserve it.”

The tears reappeared, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. Of relief. As if his heart would burst with all the love and care his friends will it with. (Y/N) took a moment to wrap his arms around each of them in an individual hug to show his appreciation.

“Thank you. I am very grateful to have friends like you.” He smiled warmly.

Dean smiled before he cleared his throat and waved him off. “Alright, enough of the chick-flick crap,” he said as he stood from his spot on the floor, a groan escaping his throat that he tried not to make too noticeable. “What do you say we skip the bar tonight, order some takeout, and watch a movie? I hear Roadhouse is on at seven.”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side. “What’s Roadhouse?”

Dean froze, wide-eyed. His jaw dropped in shock. “‘What’s Roadhouse’?” He repeated in disbelief. “Action movie? Patrick Swayze? Sam Elliott? Kelly Lumch? Julie Michaels? Keith David!?” With each name, his voice got louder.

“Are those actors?”

“I-” Dean threw his hands up as he turned his back on him and began to pace around the room once more.

(Y/N) flashed a worried look at Castiel, then Sam. Sam shook his head and chuckled.

“Dean’s just being dramatic,” he whispered, which caused (Y/N) to let out a sigh of relief.

“I am not being dramatic!” Dean retorted before he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “This is all my fault. I was so focused on teaching him about good music that movies never crossed my mind. Have you at least seen Indiana Jones?”

“Indiana…as in the state?”

“If it makes you feel any better, (Y/N), I, too, have yet to see Roadhouse or Indiana Jones,” Castiel said.

Dean deadpanned. “I have some work to do. Sam, go get us some food. I need to make a list of movies for them to watch.”

Sam snorted as he stood from his spot on the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Just text me what you guys want.” He mumbled and retrieved his jacket from the back of one of the chairs.

As Sam left to get them food, Dean began to ramble on about movies he determined (Y/N) and Castiel had to watch, most of which were either action or old westerns. He talked with such passion regarding the films that (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Dean was right, the opinions of others didn’t matter, especially those whose only goal was to satisfy their selfish desires, disregarding others’ wellbeing. They were foolish, scum, true lions in sheep’s clothing. Those hidden evil beings could make themselves look innocent. (Y/N) didn’t need to please them. Didn’t need to make them happy. He only wanted to make his family happy, just as they did him. For how much they’ve helped him on his treacherous journey into manhood, they deserve it, for they have taught him the most valuable lesson of all;

His worth was priceless.

…

“Hey, are you even listening?”

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