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fangirlxwritesx67 · 4 years

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Taken By The Wind: A Sam Winchester x Rowena McLeod Love Story Chapter 8: Heather

Tags: 18+, sex, explicit sex, smut, porn. oral sex, penetrative sex, no condom, consent, size kink. Excessive descriptions of Rowena being gorgeous.

Author’s Note Chapter 1: You Naughty Boy After Chapter 1: Wildfire Chapter 2: Why Thank You Chapter 3: Yes Please After Chapter 3: Hours Chapter 4: Green Velvet Chapter 5: Locked On You Chapter 6: For You, Always After Chapter 6: Whipped Chapter 7: Purple Roses ...

Sam knocked on Rowena’s apartment door, his heart in his throat. He hadn’t felt this way before a date in almost 20 years. Hell, he hadn’t been on a date, a proper date, in that long. Then the door swung open and there she was.

Rowena.

His Queen.

She was wearing a black dress, long and velvety. It was simple and elegant, and perfectly skimmed the curves of her slim body. He grinned. She had remembered how he loved her in velvet. The sleeves covered her arms and shoulders but the neckline plunged low.

“Hello,” she murmured, her voice sultry. She slid her hand up the doorframe, leaning towards him. It was a familiar gesture but still irresistible. She wore a thin strand of something sparkly that trailed all the way down her breasts, and he followed it with his eyes.

“See something you like?” she asked, teasing. Her high round breasts were perfectly framed by the neckline of her dress and he couldn’t look away.

Sam swallowed hard.

“See something you want?” she purred.

She always looked beautiful, of course, but tonight was something else. Tonight, she looked straight magical.

“You, Rowena. I only ever want you. But we have dinner reservations.”

She tipped her face up, tossing her long red curls. Her eyes were fixed on his face, warm and bright. He slipped one hand around her waist, pulling her closer. Her delicate hands skimmed the arms of his jacket and tightened around his shoulders. The brush of her fingers on his arm, even through the cloth, sent a bolt of white hot lightning straight to his core. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her hungrily. He heard her whimper, deep in her throat, before he pulled away.

Her hand slid down to fit in the crook of his elbow, and he placed warm fingers over hers. He knew Dean would tease him about being so formal, but with Rowena, it felt right. This was how a Queen deserved to be treated.

In the elevator, the mirror reflected the two of them side by side, and Sam found his eyes drawn to her image. She was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She looked small and delicate, but he knew better. That perfect tiny body held a tremendous force of will and a deep well of desire. Her gaze met his in the mirror, her green eyes shining with excitement, a glimpse of her fiery soul.

When they reached the Impala, Sam opened the door for Rowena and helped her in before taking his place behind the wheel. She slid across the broad leather seat to be closer to him. He laid his hand palm up on her lap and she laced her fingers in with his. He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Sam had so many things racing through his mind, he didn’t know what to say first. Rowena seemed to pick up on his mood, and teased him gently.

“Still won’t tell me where you’re taking me, Samuel? This must be someplace special,” she said, keeping her voice light. “It’s not like you to be this nervous."

Sam smiled. She knew him so well. He answered, only half joking. “I realized that I haven’t done much for you in terms of dating. I never take you out, give you a chance to dress up."

“I thought you liked me undressed.” Even without looking, he knew the coquettish face she was making. He felt himself blush a little, just thinking about it. This woman of his and her bewitching ways! He chuckled before he answered.

“I do, don’t get me wrong, but maybe later. I think you’ll enjoy this, first.”

Rowena’s fingers tightened around his and he squeezed back in anticipation, in promise.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Rowena read the sign that said “Breakfast & Lunch,” then looked at him quizzically.

“Wait,” he answered her wordless question. “You’ll see.” He had seen pictures of the dinners, and he could only hope that this would be a surprise worthy of her hopes.

They stepped into the restaurant, Rowena’s hand still on his arm, and she stopped short. Every table in the place was draped with white cloth and lit with candles. White strands of Christmas lights hung from the walls. The ordinary bistro had been transformed into something magical. Her eyes flicked across the room, and her mouth dropped open in a soft, wondering sigh.

While Rowena drank in the sight of the restaurant, Sam only had eyes for her. All the lights in the room couldn’t compare to the way her face shone with delight. Just looking at her made his throat tighten with pride and longing.

The host led them to a booth against the wall. The corner was dim, and in the candlelight, Rowena was radiant. Her red hair seemed to spark, her creamy skin seemed to glow with incandescent beauty. She flashed her green eyes at him, eager and bright, before her gaze fell to the table.

In the center of the table, holding court amongst the glasses and candlesticks, was a simple crystal vase of heather, purple and white.

It had taken time and effort to find the flowers. There was a surprising dearth of florists in Kansas that kept heather in stock. He ended up getting it shipped in, and paying an outrageous tip to make sure it was on the table.

Rowena lifted one hand and skimmed the blossoms with her fine fingers. The tender smile she gave Sam made it worth every dollar he had spent.

“Heather,” she murmured, “For me?”

Heather meant thriving in adversity. A little flower that grew wild in Scotland, it seemed perfect for him and Rowena. Purple heather represented admiration and beauty, while the white stood for protection and wishes come true.

Sam’s reached towards her. His hand was waiting when Rowena’s drifted down from the heather. She let her fingers rest comfortably against his palm.

‘You’re nothing if not my own wild flower,” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips. It was ridiculous, he knew it, part of him was still hearing Dean’s voice mocking him gently. But here in the moment, with Rowena, nothing seemed too much.

Everything he had to give seemed too little for her.

A waiter came by with water and a bottle of champagne. Sam had already ordered a vintage that he knew Rowena loved.

After they gently clinked glasses, Rowena sat back with a smug expression on her face.

“Samuel,” she said, “This is a treat. What are we celebrating?”

“Us, Ro, we’re celebrating us.”

She paused with the glass halfway to her lips. “Us?”

Sam looked down at the tablecloth and drew in a deep breath before he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“Yeah, you and me. I think what we have is worth celebrating. Don’t you?”

She smiled, the fondest smile, before she held out her glass again. “Of course,” she said, “To us.”

Rowena sipped her champagne delicately. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Sam drank in the sight of the woman he loved, so beautiful, so bright. For a long moment they sat, speechless, just enjoying one another’s presence.

Finally, she picked up the printed menu in front of her, and her green eyes went wide.

“Samuel!” She tried to giggle but the words caught in her throat. “Is this… is this a Scottish meal?”

“Yes,” Sam answered. He swallowed hard. “I didn’t plan it for you, but the moment I found it, it seemed perfect.”

She rewarded him with one of those slow smiles that he never could resist. Her dark lashes fluttered against her pale freckled cheeks. When she looked up, she beckoned Sam with just one finger. He half stood, leaning across the table, to meet her upturned mouth with his.

They didn’t pull apart until the waiter reappeared, carrying an entire tray of delicious bites: fresh sourdough bread, tangy with a dark crust, crumbles of sheep cheese, and herbed heirloom tomatoes.

The next course was soup, different for each of them. Rowena’s was a light broth with fresh wild garlic and greens. Sam’s was tomato with fennel and thyme. They quickly traded spoons across the table. Everything was delicious and perfect and they wanted nothing more than to share with one another.

Every bit of the chef’s tasting menu was exquisite. When their entrees arrived, Rowena had roast duck with a side of wild rice and fresh new peas. Sam had roast beef, cooked perfectly rare, with bites of new red potatoes and roasted root vegetables.

They also shared a bottle of Sangiovese. The savory round red wine paired perfectly with both of their meals.

They settled back and enjoyed the food, talking and laughing. This was in fact their first date, but Sam didn’t know why he had been nervous. He was with Rowena, after all. They had built a solid relationship from working and living together. Then they had added sex that was both familiar and fiery. Dating hardly seemed to figure into it.

Sam relaxed as he saw Rowena truly enjoying the dinner. She was perfectly at home in this elegant, intimate setting. He wondered, not for the first time, how a hunter like him had ended up with such a glamourous, powerful woman. But he knew. It was because she had chosen him, wanted him, and pursued him. He considered himself fortunate, every day, that she had.

Before dessert arrived, Sam held out one hand. Rowena met his fingers with hers on the white tablecloth.

“Come here, please,” he asked. She stood up gracefully and walked around the table to slide into the booth next to him. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. There was something about the way she fit so perfectly against him, as if they were meant to be together.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he murmured.

“Hello,” she answered before she lifted her soft mouth and he kissed her. Her hand rose to the back of his neck, tangling in his dark hair. He kissed her deeper, his grasp spanning the curve of her waist and hip.

They were interrupted by their waiter bringing dessert, and pulled reluctantly out of one another's arms for the last course of their meal.

There was only one dessert. A molded bowl of dark chocolate held whipped cheesecake mousse, surrounded by brandied cherries and topped with a delicate net of caramel sugar.

Sam took the spoon and scooped up some mousse, broke a piece off the chocolate shell, and gathered up a cherry as well as some caramel before he held it up to Rowena’s lips. She leaned forward and took it slowly.

Her glossy lips closed around the spoon in a way that filled his mind with wayward thoughts. She had to know that when she did that, he couldn’t think straight. How did she manage to get him, every single time?!

“Rowena,” Sam couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I love you. And I don’t know what to call what we’re doing, but I want you to be mine.”

Rowena shook her head. Sam watched her face close up, centuries of instinct taking over. He thought she trusted him completely, but still, he recognized the proud look on her face, the way she wrapped herself in power when she felt too vulnerable.

“You don’t-” she started, trying for flirty, but her voice caught before she could continue. “You don’t mean it, Sam Winchester.”

“Oh, but I do.” He, better than anyone, understood what she had been through. He knew why she was defensive, how much she doubted both herself and him.

Sam’s hand fell softly to her face and she leaned into the warmth of his touch. This was the trust they had built over time, first working side by side, then in their personal relationship. She invited him to take part in her magic; he relied on her help for his research. She was comfortable stripped naked in front of him, the two of them seeking pleasure in one another. She enjoyed him handcuffing her, playing with power, letting him unlock her secret stash of filthy curses. He reveled in pushing her until she came unwound, until she lost herself under his touch.

He already knew she felt safe with him, implicitly; the way she let all her guard down with him. But he was asking her for more. He was asking her to trust him wholly.

She sighed softly and lifted her green cat eyes to his.

“You’re more than a good time,” he continued earnestly. “You’re my friend, my equal, my partner.”

Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She shook her head, wordlessly.

His thumb caressed her cheek, trailing down to trace the curve of her mouth. Her lips softened under his touch.

“My love. Rowena, be with me.”

Her fingers reached up to wind in his.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she whispered, her voice low and broken.

“I do, though, Rowena.” There was no doubting the assurance in his voice. “I mean it with all my heart. I have never loved another woman like I love you.”

“Even though I’m a witch?”

“Especially because you’re a witch.” Magic, for a hunter, was no easy matter. Rowena wasn’t easy, either, but she was worth it.

Sam watched her chest rise in a deep breath. He saw in her eyes the moment she finally gave in, let herself go, and trusted him. Finally, she nodded slowly.

She reached up to caress his cheek. “My dear Samuel, I love you too.”

He lowered his lips to hers and she met him willingly. Her mouth tasted sweet, like fruit and dark chocolate and wine.

The dessert, as good as it was, sat forgotten on the table as they sealed their love with kiss after kiss after kiss.

“Rowena,” Sam whispered. “My Queen. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

From the very start, Rowena had promised that they would make magic together. This was the most beautiful magic of all: love.

~ THE END ~

Not sure where to start thanking everyone who has seen this story from beginning to end, including @marril96 @thoughtslikeaminefield @there-must-be-a-lock @boondoctorwho @awesomesusiebstuff and more. Thanks for everything SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @divadinag @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn @the-chocolate-moose @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness Rowena My Queen: @lilsylvia @marril96

#samwena #samwitch #sam x rowena #taken by the wind

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star-linedsoul · 4 years

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Legacy: A Supernatural Fanfiction | Sneak Peek

STORY SUMMARY:

Dean & Sam Winchester have spent their lives surrounded by the evil forces of the world, pushed and pulled and forced to bend in attempt to rid the world of evil and save innocent lives. As such, they jump at the chance to close the gates of Hell, forever removing demons from the face of the Earth. However, a visitor from the future causes the brothers to question this decision as the cost of this endeavor makes itself clear. Raised in a future where demons rule the world, Erica Winchester longs for an escape from the darkness that has destroyed her family. Sending herself to the past to finish the job her father started long ago, she hopes to atone for her own mistakes as much as she hopes to fix her world. As she delves into nigh-impossible trials and ancient magicks, however, she begins to wonder whether redemption is even possible. Perhaps, in the end, destiny cannot be avoided. Perhaps, for a Winchester, the only possible legacy is one of blood and death.

CHAPTER SUMMARY:

After the events of episode 8x13, “Everybody Hates Hitler,” Sam & Dean return to the Men of Letters bunker to find that they are no longer the only ones entrusted with its secrets. A search ensues to determine who or what has compromised the security of their new home.

Well, as definitive proof that I really need to work on my self-control, the writing bug has officially refused to leave me alone when it comes to this WIP. It will probably be awhile before I post any full chapters of this story, but I couldn’t resist sharing an excerpt featuring the first meeting between Dean and my OC Erica. I’m trying a couple new things in regards to a more concise writing style and a streamlined writing process that will hopefully allow me to write faster. Feel free to give me some input/constructive criticism on whether or not you feel it works! I put the excerpt under a read more due to length and mild spoilers for anyone that isn’t caught up on the series!

Legacy Taglist: @wordspin-shares

As always, my askbox and messaging are always open for discussion or if you would like to be added to the taglist! :D

EXCERPT:

Shaking his head at how ridiculous it was to be playing hide and go seek in his own home—without even knowing who he was looking for—Dean securely latched the door on his way out of the bedroom. No one was violating his space more than they already had. Not if he had anything to say about it.

The hunter crossed the corridors on silent feet, every sense tuned to pick up on the slightest sign of the bunker’s mystery guests. He knew he had finally struck gold as he turned into the hall leading to the garage. Amid the funky rhythm and melodic vocals of what his ears immediately recognized as the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the metallic clang of tools clattering together sang through the air. He knew that sound well. Pressing his back against the wall flanking the stairs that led up into the garage, he quickly texted Sam, letting him know that he had finally found something.

Dean ascended the first few stairs leading into the garage, stopping when he was just high enough to see over the concrete walls of the motorcycle bays flanking the stairwell. Scanning the open garage, he found all of the cars and bikes still in their places, with the sounds coming from the corner workspace at the rear. He ducked back down out of sight as he caught movement between the shelves that separated the work area from the rest of the garage. Bingo.

The hunter not-so-patiently waited until his phone vibrated with Sam’s confirmation that he was on his way before climbing the stairs to fully enter the garage. He kept his gun low but at the ready as quick strides carried him toward the corner, where a single figure was silhouetted behind the shelves. Ready to duck out of sight if anyone else should show up, he stayed close to the vehicle bays.

Several choice curses punctuating Anthony Kiedis’ melancholic crooning through “Californication” had Dean categorizing this particular intruder as female, and he absently wondered if this was the owner of the jacket he and Sam had found in the library. The loud music masked his steps as he approached the gap that left the workspace open to the rest of the garage, giving him a moment to survey the scene without being noticed by the target. This objective was even better served when he saw that the woman stood at the near end of a collapsible worktable, on which rested a shiny, black and chrome motorcycle. Her back was to the hunter as she leaned one shoulder against the bike’s rear tire to hold it in place while she struggled to install its axle with her free hand.

“Come on, girl,” she growled between the dull thuds of a rubber mallet knocking the axle into place. “Stop being such a bitch!”

As if the bike heard her, the shaft finally found its seat. Dropping the rubber mallet to the table, the woman rested one hand on the reinstalled tire, running her other hand through choppy black hair as she muttered, “Finally!”

Deciding to press his advantage while the woman was still unaware that she was no longer alone, Dean reached over and turned off the small stereo on the shelf next to him. As the intro to “By the Way” abruptly cut to silence, the hunter raised his pistol to the ready position. “Nice bike.”

With a loud gasp, the woman whirled around, swiping the mallet from the table once again and adopting a defensive stance in a single, fluid motion. She froze, however, as she spotted the gun leveled at her chest. Narrowed eyes widened in surprise and a crinkle formed along her brows while her knuckles turned white from gripping the mallet in her hand.

“Who are you?”

“Funny. I was planning on asking you the same thing,” Dean gestured to the woman’s hands with the barrel of his gun. “Drop that mallet and kick it under the table. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The hunter thought for a moment that the woman was going to try something very stupid. She had the looks of an animal caught in headlights and panicking, seconds away from bolting. He had left her nowhere to run, making him wonder if she might try to charge him. He had her unquestionably outmatched in size, but fear made people do crazy things. Luckily, she proved to be a bit more sensible. Though her body was still taut with tension and her eyes remained glued to him, she crouched and placed the mallet on the floor. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender as she rose, kicking the mallet away.

Though it was the result that he had wanted, something didn’t sit right with Dean. He couldn’t quite explain what it was. Maybe it was that this was too easy. Maybe it was that the intruder seemed to be trying too hard to appear normal. This woman before him had somehow managed to infiltrate their bunker—which was supposed to be secret and hidden—and yet she was tinkering in the garage instead of robbing the place of its virtually priceless collection. Nothing about her appearance suggested that she was anything other than average. Surely no older than thirty, she wore a simple, black T-shirt, form-fitting jeans, and scuffed biker boots, with no logos or embellishments visible that might be traced back to a store. No charms or amulets decorated her wrists or hung around her neck, nor were any weapons visible that might suggest that she was a hunter. And yet there was something unsettling about her. About how quickly she had picked up that mallet and prepared to defend herself only to disarm just as fast. About how she looked as submissive as possible, wide-eyed and with her hands in the air, and yet her entire body was tensed as if ready for a fight.

Remaining on alert, Dean stepped closer to the woman only for her to back away in equal measure. “What do you want?”

The hunter was sure it was meant to be a demand, but her voice was too shaky for it to have the desired effect. “Hey, you’re the one in my home without permission, sweetheart. I’ll handle the questions.” Before she could protest further, Dean closed the distance between them, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her to turn around. “Keep those hands up.”

His pistol ready in one hand just in case, he quickly skimmed his free hand over the woman’s lean frame. Starting at her torso, he then went down one denim-clad leg, confiscating the switchblade tucked into her boot. On the way up the other leg, he swiped the leather wallet from her back pocket.

“Hey!” she protested, whirling back around and reaching for the wallet. “Give that back!”

Dean dodged her, moving out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it back so long as you don’t do anything stupid.” He could tell she didn’t like that answer as her hands tightened into fists. Green eyes fixed him with a scorching glare, which he elected to ignore as he flipped open the wallet to check for ID. “Got any friends with you?”

“It’s just me.” Dean glanced up at the woman’s wooden tone, but he found that she wasn’t looking at him, fixed on a spot behind his left shoulder. Then, faintly, “Oh…there’s two of you.”

Turning to follow her stare, Dean found his brother surveying the scene, pistol lowered but ready. About damn time. “Hi, Sammy! I’m so glad you finally decided to join us.”

The younger Winchester answered with a curt nod, glancing between his brother and the woman he’d cornered. “What’s going on?”

“I was just getting acquainted with our new friend here.” Dean made a show of holding up the ID he had pulled from their guest’s wallet, keeping his tone casual. “Meet Erica Jackson from Seminole, Oklahoma. She’s a...let’s see, carry the one, thirteen minus seven…twenty-six year old Gemini and”—he raised an eyebrow, looking at the woman’s choppy black locks—“a blonde?”

She shifted her weight to one leg, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry, is dying hair a crime these days?”

Dean definitely didn’t like that snippy tone. “No, but breaking and entering is. So give me one good reason why you’re in my garage and I’ll think about letting you walk outta here.”

“I-I didn’t know anyone lived here.” Erica had the decency to at least pretend to be remorseful, nervously tucking her hair behind one ear and scuffing one toe against the concrete as she glanced between the brothers. “The place was empty when I found it.”

“And you just decided to move in?” Sam inferred, moving forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean.

“No, of course not!” Erica returned, indignant. But then she faltered, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, kind of, I guess…” She huffed. “It’s a long story.”

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