#minimal moose warning

[flemingsfreckles]

Don’t Be Sad

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: based off of this request. You take your kids to watch their mom play in the gold cup semifinal.

Warnings: upset Jessie, not really angst though

WC: 4.8k

A/N: okay, so the timeline here is all kinds of messed up in terms of how old Jessie is, the fic revolves around the US/CAN game but she obviously doesn’t have kids already so just go with it. It’s called fiction for a reason. This is also my first attempt at writing based off a request/an idea that my brain didn’t come up with.

“James, slow down please.” You hollered at your oldest child as he ran a couple of feet ahead of you. You watched as he stopped immediately in his tracks as if he had been frozen in place. The brown curls on his head bouncing slightly. Once you catch up to him you extend your hand out for him to hold.

“You have to be careful, you can’t be running ahead, there’s a lot of other people here.” You often took your kids to watch Jessie’s games, but most of the time they were not this busy. The stress of temporarily having to operate as a single mom with an almost 3 year old and 1 year old was building on you. Your wife would not be thrilled to learn you let one kid run off 20 minutes after arriving at the stadium.

“Sorry, just want to see Mama.” He said, reaching up to grab onto your hand.

“I know kiddo, we’re going to see Mama, but after her game remember, we can’t go talk with her before. Remember what I told you in the car?”

“Mama’s at work and is warm.” He tried his best to remember what you had told him about how Jessie wouldn’t be able to talk to you before the game. You had explained that she would have to warm up and be focused and ready for the game. Trying to explain that the field was her work and she wasn’t allowed to just come hang out.

“Mama!” Your one year old daughter, Nora, squealed, waving her hands in the air. You were holding her on your hip, not wanting her to get trampled in the busy stadium, also not fully trusting her minimal walking skills. She had recently started taking a few steps alone, and while holding the hand of you or Jessie, she could walk for a bit. A crowd of people was not the time to practice walking.

“Yes baby, Mama’s at work. We can see her after the game.”

Gripping your son’s hand tightly you continued to make your way to the friends and family box that the Canadian Team had set up for the Gold Cup Match. You didn’t love being in the box, it made you feel far away from the game. You liked being up close being able to see your wife playing just a couple meters away. Not being able to complain too much though, it was so much easier with the kids to be in the box, they were free to roam safely and could occupy themselves with other activities if they were too restless to sit and watch Jessie play. It was also nice on afternoons like tonight where the weather was brutal, you were able to stay nice and dry.

You checked into the box, grabbing some juice boxes for each of your kids. You looked around, you had gotten to the stadium pretty early, meaning the box only had a few other people in it already. You moved to the corner with a small table, setting down Nora, and pulling out a chair for James to sit as well. You rummage through your bag, pulling out some toy dinosaurs and cars for James and a stuffed moose than Jessie had gotten for your daughter before she left for the World Cup. Nora insisted it went everywhere she went so you had to bring it with. Placing their juice on the table as well you stood up, looking over the field. You spotted your wife, doing some dribbling in a space all by herself. Not being able to help yourself, you watch her for a second before you feel a hand on the back of your shoulder and a voice calling to you.

“There’s our favorite daughter-in-law!” Jessie’s parents had arrived, her mom standing behind you, arms out for a hug.

“I’m your only daughter-in-law.” You remind her as you move into her arms. Jessie’s father, already kneeling down to talk with your children, opts to give you a wave, you reply with a wave and a quick hello before he goes back to playing with a dinosaur.

“How are you? How are the kids? I feel like we haven’t seen you in forever. What has it been 6-7 months?” She asked.

“Something like that.” The last time you had seen the Flemings was when they had come to visit after the World Cup. “The kids, they’re good. They’ve definitely been keeping me on my toes these days especially while Jess has been away for this tournament. They still haven’t grasped the concept that this is Jessie’s work though. James kept asking when he could see her, it’s just hard to explain at that age, they think she’s just playing like they do in the yard.”

“Yeah I can imagine they don’t quite get it,” Jessie’s mom trailed off turning to watch her husband with his grandchildren. You both stand for a minute watching Jessie’s dad who now had your daughter in his lap, still holding a dinosaur in one hand, play with your kids. “Gosh they both look so much like Jess when she was that age.”

Your children were practically spitting images of your wife. They were, after all, biologically her babies. You and Jessie had decided to do reciprocal ivf after careful consideration. Together you had chosen that you would be the one that would carry them, not wanting to take Jessie away from her career and love for football, meaning the kids would be genetically related to Jessie while you carried them for 9 months, letting you both be a part of their creation. Who could say no to the idea of little versions of Jessie running around, not you.

Both having her brown hair, James' hair had started to show the soft waves that resembled Jessie’s. They both had big brown eyes, which they used to get their way with you. It was hard to say no to them when looking into their eyes reminded you of the woman you were so infatuated and in love with.

The resemblance was obvious at birth with their beautiful eyes looking up at you and Jessie as you held them for the first time. The first time you really recognized how much they all looked alike was one afternoon when you got home from work, you walked into an empty house calling for Jessie and getting no response. It was then that you had heard giggling and joyful screaming coming from the backyard. You walked out to watch as Jessie chased James around the yard, following him with the garden hose as Nora sat on her hip. It seemed they had been playing in the sprinkler all afternoon, all 3 of them soaked. You stood on the deck and watched, just admiring your family for a second before Jessie caught a glimpse of you. She dropped the hose to come say hello and proceeded to hug you, soaking your clothes in the process. Your kids followed and you saw all three of them with the freckles that covered their pink rosy cheeks, just another trait they had gotten from their mother.

The game started shortly after, you had taken a seat on a bench with Jessie’s dad, your son seated between the two of you and your daughter crawling across your lap. You weren’t always the most relaxed watching your wife play. Watching her play was so fascinating and you loved watching your wife play the game she loved so much, but it stressed you out. She always joked to you that you were more nervous than her and all you had to do was watch. Today you were extra anxious. Not only was this a knockout game, but the pitch conditions were horrendous. Everytime Jessie would go for a ball you were just hoping she didn’t slip and end up injured. The US took the lead 20 minutes in, only adding to your anxieties. Halftime came and went, Canada still down. It wasn’t until only 10 minutes were remaining that Canada tied it. You had jumped up and shouted in response to the goal, watching Jessie jump on top of Jordyn in her celebration. You watched as full time played out, ending in a tie. You stood up excusing yourself to use the restroom, leaving James and Nora with their grandparents.

Extra time began just as you returned to the box, you made your way to the table in the back of the room to grab a water bottle and turned back to face the pitch. The sight in front of you warms your heart. It even takes away the stress of the game for just a moment. There were your two children, Nora sitting on Jessie’s mom’s hip, you watched as she babbled at her grandmother, only a couple of the sounds coming out being actual words, but Jessie’s mom was responding as if she was having a complete conversation. James was sitting on his grandfather's shoulders, watching and listening closely as his grandpa pointed and tried to explain the game to him. You and Jessie, mainly Jessie, had tried to teach him but that’s hard to do with a just under three year olds attention span. All he wanted to do was roll the ball around with his hands. You had joked that he’d grow up to be a keeper.

What really tugged at your heartstrings was the assortment of jerseys that all had on, a mix of new and old and a mix of home and away. Your wife’s family name on all of them, which was now your last name too, displayed proudly across the back, her number sitting just below. You felt so lucky, you felt lucky everyday with Jessie, but even in a moment when she is caught up elsewhere, you feel her love and everything she had brought you in this life. Two beautiful children, an amazing set of in-laws, the chance to experience things you could’ve never imagined. Thinking about how adorable it was you grabbed your phone and snapped a photo to show Jessie later.

The anxieties came back as you returned to your seat on the bench. You couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Jessie parents seemed watching their daughter play, maybe it just came with decades of experience that you didn’t quite have yet.

You watched as overtime continued. Feeling upset when the US scored again, only to feel ecstatic when Canada tied it up. Before you knew it, overtime had expired and the game was moving on to penalties.

You watched as the US player made her penalty, followed by a miss by Canada. A goal and another miss had happened for the Canadian side before your wife took the ball and headed to the penalty spot. The US having scored three of their four penalties taken meant if Jessie missed, the game was over, but if she made it they would keep kicking.

Watching Jessie, or any player, take penalties was one of your least favorite parts of football. You always felt bad if a player missed but then you also felt bad for the keeper if it went it. Jessie had laughed when you told her, claiming you just weren’t competitive enough, when it’s your team on the line you don’t feel sorry for the other side. You had told her that your competitiveness only applied to her and whatever team she played for, other than that you were more of a ‘hoe everyone has fun’ type person. You asked Jessie about how it’s such immense pressure being put on just one person on each team and how it feels to be in that spot. Penalties usually didn’t bother your wife, everyone knew it, she had been a penalty kicking machine most of her career. The pressure on her shoulders everytime she steps up, being expected to make it every time, no questions asked, is not something you ever wanted to feel.

You watched her line herself up, placing the ball. Seeing this routine done more times than you could count you had memorized her behaviors. You knew each of her steps before taking it, asking one day in the backyard to explain it to you as she was practicing. Your hands came to rest on your knees that were anxiously bouncing.

She stepped back, took a deep breath and started toward the ball. And then it was dark.

You had shut your eyes, not intentionally, it just happened. You didn’t see the kick, you only realized that it must not have gone in when the crowd erupted in cheers. You slowly opened one eye, peeking as if it’ll change what had just happened. First you see the US team running, dog piling on top of one another. Second seeing Jessie, her head hung, walking toward the bench, shaking her head, brushing off the teammates attempting to console her. Feeling your heart sink for her, knowing just how upset she must be.

“Mom why are they hurting each other?” Your son tugged your hand. He pointed at the pile of US players on the field.

“They’re not hurting each other, they’re celebrating kiddo, they won.”

“But Mama supposed to win.” His eyebrows pinched together, confused looking up at you.

“Well honey that’s not how it always goes, do you remember watching the World Cup?” You hadn’t actually let them watch the games live due to the timing of them but you had put them on during the day letting them watch their mom play. “Mama’s team didn’t always win, right? That’s what happens sometimes. And sometimes that makes her sad. She might be a little sad when we go to talk to her, okay?” He just nodded back at you.

As the stadium cleared out, you and Jessie’s parents, each of them holding one of your kids hands, headed down to the base of the pitch. Jessie was making her rounds, thanking the Canadian fans for coming, signing autographs and taking photos. You loved how even after a tough game she made time for those who came to watch her play. You watched as she continued to make her way headed toward you, not seeing you yet.

“Mama!” James shouted pointing at Jessie. “Mama, hi!” His hand waved in her direction. Hearing her son's voice, Jessie’s head snapped to the side with a smile on her face as she saw her family, you, her kids, her parents all standing together waiting for her. Giving a quick wave to James she turned her attention to the young fan in front of her. She finishes greeting and chatting with the few fans between you and her. As she wanders over, her eyes meet yours for a second and while she isn’t currently crying, you can see she must’ve been at some point. Her face has small tear streaks and eyes are a little red.

“Hi Mama, don’t be sad.” Your son says, making grabbing motions with his hands at Jessie.

“Hi buddy, I’m just a little sad right now, but I’ll be okay. I’m happy that I’m getting to see you and Nora.” She reaches over the wall, grabbing James and pulling him up and over, into her arms. She hugs him tightly and then puts him down at her feet.

“Mama, it's grandma and grandpa.” Your son points, as if Jessie hadn’t seen her own parents in front of her.

“Hi Mom, hi Dad.” She acknowledges them with a quick wave, knowing she’ll be able to fully catch up with them later tonight.

“Hi love.” She turns her attention to you.

“Hi,” moving toward her you reach over the wall giving her a quick peck on the cheek quietly talking in her ear . “I’m so proud of you, even if you don’t want to hear that right now. I love you.”

You pull back, hearing your daughter start babbling again, the words “Mom” and “Mama” coming out as she looks from you to Jessie. She’s standing both of her arms above her head holding onto her grandpa's hands

“You heard her, give me my baby.” Jessie laughs holding her arms out to take Nora. You bend down to pick her up and pass her into your wife’s extended arms. “Hi cutie,” she bounces her, making soft giggles come from her mouth.

You admired Jessie’s ability to put on a happy face for your kids, you knew she was upset about the loss, the lack of penalty called against her, her missed kick, the pitch conditions, but none of it showed as she held your daughter. She looked as happy as can be, as if she had just won the whole tournament. Even if it was a forced smile, you could tell it was, she still put forth the effort.

“Look at us all matching.” She’s talking to your kids. “Can you take our photo?” Now directing her question to you. She bends down to kneel next to her son, daughter still in her arms. She smiles big and tickles your son, getting him to laugh, his smile big in the photo.

“Oh man, we’re all matching. It looks like we’re going on a family reunion with matching shirts.” You see Jessie standing up looking between you and her parents. Everyone laughs at the realization, sure you knew you were all wearing her jersey but it being pointed out was humorous .

“Okay James I have to go, but I’ll see you later tonight okay?” Your wife is back kneeling down, talking to your son.

“Okay Mama, you did a good job at your work job today.” He tries his best to tell Jessie she played well. She looks at you with a questioning glance.

“I was explaining to him that this is your job, the game is work.”

“Gotcha.” She hands you Nora before lifting James over again. “I just have to do recovery. I think since we’re out we’re released as well so I don’t have to stay at the hotel. I don’t know I’ll find out though.” She quickly informs you.

“Alright babe, just shoot me a text and let me know. We’re just going back to the rental.” Deciding that more space and isolation would be better than a hotel with two small children, you had rented a small house for the week. It had a couple bedrooms and was perfect for letting the kids be free and not cooped up in a hotel.

You give Jessie a quick kiss on the lips, making it short and sweet your wife wasn’t big on PDA anywhere, let alone in front of fans and more importantly her parents. Jessie gave hugs to her Mom and Dad before saying goodbye to them as well.

All five of you headed back to the house, Jessie’s parents deciding to crash in the extra bedroom for the chance to see their daughter more than if they had gone to the hotel they had originally booked. It was only an hour later when the knock at the door told you Jessie had arrived.

Jessie’s dad greeted her at the door. You were occupied feeding Nora in the bedroom, while Jessie’s Mom was watching James while he ate. Through the cracked door you could hear your father in law talking to his daughter. He was telling her how proud of her he always is. You could tell she entered the kitchen as you heard James start talking to Jess. You knew her arrival meant he would be done eating, forgetting food was ever an option, just wanting to hang out with her.

“She’s in the bedroom feeding Nora, third door on the left.” Jessie’s mom was telling her daughter.

It was only seconds later that there was a soft knock on the door and Jessie peaked her head though. Her cheeks are still rosy from the game.

“Can I come in or do you want privacy?” Her concern regarding you being comfortable showing.

“Yeah babe, nothing you haven’t seen before, it just felt a little weird with your Dad there so I figured I’d feed her in here.” Nodding at her to come in. She opened the door to come through, closing it behind her. She moved next to you, placing a kiss on your lips, one on your forehead and grazing a hand across Nora’s head. She smelled of vanilla and coconut, freshly showered, her hair still wet.

“I love you, you’re such a good Mom.” She sits down on the bed next to you. Jessie loved watching you with the kids. She especially loved watching you do the more “mundane” tasks, like you were now, Nora resting in your arms as she fed, a task you had done hundreds of times. It felt incredibly intimate to share these small moments together and Jessie was so grateful that you let her be there.

Deciding this might be the only bit of time you get with Jessie alone, without your son or her parents hearing, you decide to check on her. Jessie isn’t the best about expressing her emotions especially in front of your son, she never wants to appear sad or disappointed. Nora was here but she was occupied and she was not yet at the age of picking up much from conversations that didn’t involve the words Mom, Mama, or milk.

“Are you doing okay?” Looking in her eyes, you see the beautiful brown color looking back at you.

“I’m disappointed.” She pauses before continuing, “it just felt like something we could’ve won.” Her head comes to rest on your shoulder and she lets out a sigh.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. Are you okay besides being just disappointed?” You wanted to make sure the missed penalty wasn’t weighing too heavily on her mental. Jessie knew exactly what you were asking.

“I think so, I chatted quickly with the sports psych while I was stretching about the penalty, I think missing the one earlier got in my head. I don’t feel much at all about it.” Nora decides she’s done feeding, pulling her mouth away and trying to squirm from your hold. “Here let me take her.” Jessie pulls her into her lap, allowing you to clean up and pull your shirt back down.

“It was really nice having you all there after the game.” Her voice was soft as she continued “it just made it hurt a little less getting to see them. They take my mind off the game so quickly.”

“They were both so excited to see you.” You wrap your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to your side. “I was excited to see you too.” Jessie hummed in response, her cheek still resting on your shoulder. You look down in her arms, your youngest was laying, her eyes fluttering as she fought off sleep. Moments later your son is knocking at the door.

“Mama, Mom come on, I want to play and make Mama not sad anymore” You open the door to find your son, a dinosaur in one hand and a small ball in the other. Jessie’s mom quickly following him down the hallway.

“Sorry, we were cleaning up the table from his dinner, we can take play with him if you two need some more time.” She reached out to move James away from the door.

“Oh, no we’re good. Nora’s about to be asleep.” You point back into the room where Jessie is sitting gently rocking your daughter. “We can come play.”

You and Jessie leave the bedroom, coming back to the living room to play with James. Jessie’s dad takes Nora who is sound asleep, claiming he doesn’t get to hold her nearly enough. You both sit on the floor as James hands you plastic animals and begins telling you both about the make believe scenarios he had come up with. You stay on the floor for a while, switching between the make believe world with your son and having regular adult conversations with your wife and in-laws.

Jessie is quiet, not contributing much to the conversation, focusing more on your son. Wishing you could just lift the weight off her shoulders and take away the disappointment she is feeling toward herself, you try your best to steer any conversation away from mentions of the game or football.

James lets out a big yawn as he makes his dinosaur trample a small city he had created.

“Someone’s sleepy.” You tease him.

“No I’m not!” He protests. Looking at you with his brown eyes, silently begging for more time. “Want to keep playing with Mama, it makes her happy.” Jessie shoots you a look, her eyes begging just like his were, mouthing ‘five more minutes’ her hand being held up to emphasize her point.

“Okay, but only a few more minutes bud. You and Mama can play in the morning.”

He seems content with the extra few minutes and the reminder that Jessie would be there in the morning and goes back to playing.

After the few minutes pass by, Jessie starts to clean up the toys, James helping her. You stand up taking Nora from her grandfather’s arms, she’s still fast asleep. You say goodnight to Jessie’s parents and carry your daughter into the office that you had turned into her temporary bedroom. Your kids had separate bedrooms at home and you wanted to keep it as similar as possible. Being able to move around Nora’s crib easily, meant James got the other bedroom in the house. You placed her softly, with a kiss on her forehead and a whisper goodnight. Jessie surprises you by wrapping her arms around your waist.

“She’s so perfect.” Jessie whispers in your ear. “You made two perfect babies.” She adds a kiss to your cheek.

“Technically you made them.” You whisper back to her, still looking at Nora sleeping.

“We both made them, those are our kids.” Humming in agreement, you feel Jessie grab your hand turning to leave the room. You enter James’ room, he had changed into his pajamas while you both were putting Nora down.

“Do you want Mama to tuck you in tonight?” You ask him, wanting to give Jessie the chance as you had tucked him in alone the past few days.

“Both!” He points to both you and Jessie. You each take a side of the bed as he climbs in. You tuck him in, each giving him a kiss and telling him you love him and to not let the bedbugs bite.

Finally back in your bedroom, you and Jessie get ready for bed, each making a trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, change into sleeping shirts and shorts. You come out to Jessie sitting on the edge of the bed, you notice tears on the brims of her eyes.

“Hey, baby what’s wrong.” Rushing in front of her, you kneel down, cupping her face in her hands.

“Nothing, I'm okay.” She blinks hard, clearing the tears that were tempted to spill over.

“Jess, it’s okay if you’re upset, you can be upset in front of me.”

“I know.” There’s a pause and you’re not sure if she’s going to continue or not. You watch as a tear manages to make its way out, rolling down her cheek, you extend your thumb to brush it away. “I just, I feel like I let people down. It’s silly I know, it’s a game, but, I don’t know. I’m just disappointed in myself.”

“It’s not silly Jessie.” Grabbing her hands in yours. “You’re allowed to feel however you want about the game, you’re allowed to feel disappointed. You have to remember you’re just doing your best. Just like everyone else in that game and everyone else in the world, you’re doing the best you can. That’s all you can do.” Not sure if she’s even really listening to your words but wanting to get your point across you continue, “Jess people miss penalties all the time. It’s how it goes, you weren’t the only one to miss tonight. This isn’t all on you. You played so well this whole tournament.” You stand up as your knees started to ache, Jessie was the professional athlete in this family, not you. Deciding to sit on the bed next to her you wrap an arm around her shoulder and lean in.

“I hope you know how proud I am of you.” Hoping she can accept the compliment, she nods at you. The two of you sit in silence on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, just enjoying the quiet after the long day. You’re reminded of something from earlier in the day, reaching for your phone on the bed next to you.

“I know it’s not going to fix how you’re feeling about the game, but look at this.” You slide open your phone, open your photos to show Jessie the image you took of her parents with your kids. “Look at our family.”

She grabbed the phone from your hand, examining the photo. For the first time since the game had ended you saw a genuine smile come across her face.

“That’s our family.”

#jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt #canwnt x reader #portland thorns

[callsign-marlie]

Prologue. Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI. Part VII. Part VIII. Part IX. Part X. Story Content Warning: Rate M for mature content (minors DNI!!!) including but not limited to: mentions of drug use/smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit sexual scenarios, angst that will make your head spin and more to add a/n: ALRIGHT HERE WE GO! Time to introduce you guys to Misha and the fam. I can't wait to share this with you all <3 *Italics are ASL passes between Ice and Misha Table of Contents

Part I: 0-dark-thirty

*three years later*

Misha pulled her knees further under her hoodie, covering her entire body in the warmth of the fleece. It was particularly chilly that morning as a cold front pushed through the beaches of Miramar. She sat on the back balcony of her family home with the ashtray next to her nearly overflowing with butts. She barely slept a wink last night. The sound of the waves and wind echoing the small set of chimes outside her bedroom had nearly pushed her past her breaking point. 

She took a drag of her cigarette, let the tar circle around her chest for a beat, and exhaled the smoke out of the side of her lip. She found counting how many waves it would take for a set to break more interesting than the outgoing storm clouds still raging with lighting. Fall rang in heavily that October. At least with the quick coming chill, she didn’t have to worry about the city slickers pulling overtime in their beach houses while attempting to spot the admiral’s infamous delinquent daughter. 

It’s been three whole years since she got her ass dragged back to North Island after her two year terror streak in Jacksonville. Her last arrest was the final straw for her father, Admiral Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky. He ordered his eldest daughter to return home to clean herself up after her third known criminal possession of a controlled substance. From the minimal information her mother would give her, he had pulled way too many strings to get her off on two and a half years of house arrest and a fuck ton of community service. Jail might have ended up having more freedom than her parent’s home.

Misha had remembered her mother sobbing when she stepped off the Boeing 747, pulling her daughter into a hug nearly immediately. She didn’t even have the strength to lift her arms. Misha’s gaze was heavy and dark. Keeping her eyelids open felt like a job. She had just dropped her head on her mother’s shoulder and let little sobs rack her frame. “Oh, my baby,” Sarah Kazansky whimpered, smoothing her manicured hair through her daughter’s scraggly strands. “I know. I know, you’re safe now.”

Misha wished she could tell her mother what she had been really crying about.

After her third cig of the morning, Misha finally extinguished it to enter back into her top floor bedroom. Moose, her service dog, was splayed outlandishly on her bed belly up and snoring quietly. A tiny grin rose at the sight, her body dipping the bed to rub his exposed tummy. The canine’s tongue lolled to the side with the whites of his eyes growing wide in surprise. Moose flopped back to his tummy to give a hot kiss across the front of his master’s eyelashes.

After one last pat on the head, she did her usual morning routine. She brushed her hair, her teeth, flossed, washed her face: the whole nine yards. Rehab had done good things for her, like set her up with a schedule and ‘check lists’ of things she should do to conquer her mornings. She slapped on a small amount of lip balm and lumbered down the stairs, still attempting to rub her insomnia from her eyes. Moose padded behind her in tandem.

“Morning Meesh,” her mother called from the kitchen, preparing family breakfast. “Was just about to head up there to make sure you were up.”

“Mmm, didn’t sleep well,” she replied, kissing each of her siblings on the head and pinching their shoulders affectionately. Sunny and Jude, both seventeen, groaned in unison at their oldest sister’s ministrations, the former sending the evil eye her way. 

“Seriously? We’re not 5 anymore,” Sunny drawled, rolling her perfectly trimmed blonde strands through her fingers while she doom scrolled through social media.

Perfect little Sunny, Homecoming queen, as well as the probable prom queen with the hot jock boyfriend that would make any family swoon. Her grades weren’t the greatest, but she was very good at brown nosing her way into any teacher’s heart to squeak out a few extra points to pass their classes. It was just too easy for her; she got whatever she wanted when she wanted it and no one even bothered batting an eyelash because ‘Sunny was an angel’.

“I’m trying to love you, brat,” Misha muttered under her sister’s hearing range, grabbing her favorite ‘world’s best pilot’ mug; the one with the broken handle. She did her best to stop her hand from shaking while pouring her coffee. “You make it so hard.”

“Hmm? You say something?” Sarah looked back over her shoulder. She must have been feeling extra generous, taking over Moose’s breakfast duties for her daughter. Misha stumbled over her words, sipping on her bare bitter liquid to think. Finally, an epiphany: “I-I said I should have got a card! I completely forgot it was Father’s day!”

“Father’s day isn’t until June,” Jude muttered, his finger searching across the page of the novel he was reading. “Try again, Meemee. It’s his birthday.” The nickname slid out of his mouth so fast, he flushed and turned his head away. Jude was a spitting image of Tom down to his squared jaw; a handsome young man for sure, but his true love fell to pens over planes. He was a gifted writer and academic and was often found late at night with his nose in a too-thick tome. His passions lay in digging through the troves of history to uncover their lost secrets. He was smart, something Misha wished she was more of.

“Just having you home is enough for your dad,” Sarah chimed, separating the pancakes on the serving dish. Sarah knew Tom prided all of his three children, but his oldest always held a special place in his heart. She was his first true love that he helped create; the first baby he held in his arms, rocked to sleep, fed, and played with. She remembered fondly when Misha was first born that he was so clumsy with her, fearing he would drop her, until Sarah showed him the ropes. From there, Misha never left his sight, nor his heart. Ice cold? Never. Not towards his baby girl.

She had done so well growing up and had made them so very proud. A straight A student, a class president and valedictorian of her high school. She was on her way through the ranks of the Navy like her father before her and he had beamed the brightest he had in years at her acceptance to Top Gun. All of that joy, all of that accomplishment, would come crashing down only 4 weeks later. The only mistake of her life would be the most costly.

Sarah frowned at the thought, quickly averting her eyes back to the simmering bacon. “Sunny, Jude, set the table, would you?”

Sunny rolled her eyes, but Jude bounded up at the command with an informal salute. The table was set quickly with the help of the twins just in time for Tom to make his slow, regal descent down the stairs. His breathing was ragged and his cough rattled in his chest. His mouth was tucked into the scarf he wrapped precisely around his neck while his still agile fingers gripped at the banister for balance.

Sunny nearly pranced towards her dad, kissed him on the cheek and led him to his spot at the head of the table. Misha helped her mother bring over the arrangement for that morning: pancakes, eggs, softened pastries and bacon for the kids. The admiral could only have soft things on account of his various throat surgeries and the spread were most of his morning favorites. Tom eyed all of his family and gave them a gentle smile. All returned except for one.

His eyes fell upon Misha, who’s too dark hair left a curtain between the two of them. Since she had come home, she never was able to truly look him in the eyes. He couldn’t read her and it frustrated him to no extent. He knew that her shame was monstrous, yet she still couldn’t give up that stubborn attitude that got her in this mess in the first place no matter how much he attempted to bring her back to the right direction. Tom motioned for the family to dig in, conversation starting around the table.

Tom waved at Misha, who watched his hand flutter into phrases. There was a big storm out there, did the surf swell overnight?

Misha dropped her fork, quickly fumbling back, Yes, it’s going to be choppy today. The wind seemed more hostile than usual. That was all that was said between them.

Sunny had started rambling on about prom and what she was going to wear to the event. She talked about her nails, her makeup, her hair: all down to the color of her dress. Jude pretended to listen, but was peeking at the book he held in his lap. Sarah and Sunny had a one sided conversation with Tom occasionally peering over to his eldest. She casually munched away at her breakfast, the tongs of her fork occasionally scraping across the porcelain plate while playing with a particularly interesting piece of egg.

Misha wasn’t listening, and he knew it from the start: she turned off her hearing aids before the conversations even began.

—

Tom had retired to his room to sort through old paperwork when he heard a knock at the door. He returned the knock, signaling to the person it was ok to come in. In came Misha, her eyes flicking between his face and a photo of her and him on her promotion to Lieutenant. She buckled down and stood at attention, her eyes straight ahead. “You wanted to see me, dad?”

Tom raised his eyebrow, his fingers lax. All this pomp and circumstance? For what? At ease, you’re never this formal. I just wanted to talk.

Misha relaxed as her father pointed to a chair. She took it gratefully, biting the inside of her lip. She hadn’t been this close to him since the car ride home from her last hearing. Tom let his hands rest on his stomach, closed his eyes, braced himself and began.  I needed to talk to you about work.

Work? It was Misha’s turn to raise an eyebrow. And what does that have to do with me?

Quite a bit. 

Tom took a moment, a deep breath, and a hacking cough took place of his signing. Misha cringed at the dry crackles erupting in her father’s lungs. She almost wanted to reach forward and rub her hand on his back. To comfort him. To soothe him. But she refrained. She let the episode pass on the edge of her seat.

Tom wiped a handkerchief across his mouth to pull away his spittle before having his icy blue eyes meet her molten emerald ones; a forced connection. There’s a mission. I need you on it.

Misha felt the color drain from her face. She stood instantly, shock apparent on her features. Her mouth floundered open, nearly screaming before she clamped it shut. Mom and the kids couldn’t hear this. ME? I’ve been honorably discharged! What do you mean you need me?

Tom pointed at the chair, jaw stern, telling her to sit down. Misha took the cushion this time a bit more wobbly in the knees. What the hell could she do to help? She wasn’t a pilot anymore. She was a felon, for fuck’s sakes! She couldn’t fly. There’s no way they’d trust her to do that.

She heard a whine and a singular scratch from the hallway. Moose very clearly did not like her so upset. He could smell her anxiety through the door.

You are being recalled, Tom shot back. Honorable discharge can be revoked to reinstate personnel only in the Navy. He paused, attempting to gauge her reaction, but saw only static behind her eyes. The country needs your brain. I need your brain. This is a serious threat.

Misha threw her head back, her hands covering her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She huffed, her heart beating nearly out of her chest at the thought. She righted herself forward. It’s not like she had a choice. Her discharge was being revoked by the fucking admiral. What threat could be serious enough that you need me?

Uranium plant. We need fighters to blow it up.

She thought her heart stopped. So she really was going to fly? He was serious? As she was about to ask, Tom raised his hand to stop her imagination from running wild.

You’re not going up.

She was almost disappointed at the wave of relief that stuttered through her system. She should have known. So then what would I be doing?

Tom couldn't hide the grin under his scarf as he turned to his desk. He grabbed a folder and passed it to her, a bright red ‘CLASSIFIED’ printed on the front. The folder, though thin, felt heavy with the weight of consequences. If she opened it, she’d be in. There was no turning back. But god damn it all, her curiosity was eating her.

The manila opened and staring back at her was the face of her uncle, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell.

You’re going to teach.

---

end note: Ice and Misha are the only two in the family that know ASL fluently. The twins and Sarah pick up on phrases and know certain things, but they can't speak as fast as those two can, nor can they read it as quickly.

#arsonist's lullaby fic #rooster x oc #hangman x oc #kazansky oc #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun ff

[karateficrec]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Jack Kline (mentioned) Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Wingfic, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), 15 x 20 fix it, Fix-It, Maybe I should have led with that?, Everyone lives, Sastiel - Freeform Series: Part 3 of Sastiel Creations Challenges Summary:

Castiel comes back from heaven to find a very sleep deprived Sam.

#supernatural #minimal moose warning #sastiel #blatant self promotion #karategirl80 #sastiel secret santa

[karategirl80]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline Characters: Jack Kline Additional Tags: Jack is Castiel and Sam’s Adopted Son, Babysitter Rowena - referenced, Zombie Apocalypse, child!Jack, Playing with Toy Guns Series: Part 27 of SPN Fluff Bingo, Part 26 of SPN AU Bingo Summary:

After a long day at the cafe, Castiel is looking forward to going home and spending time with his husband and their new son. He was not expecting to walk into a zombie apocalypse.

#supernatural #sastiel #fluff #minimal moose warning #rodiniaorzetalthepenquin #sastiel dads

[honestsycrets]

Soiled III: New Shores

❛ pairing | oc x reader, hvitserk x reader (implied)

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | reader encounters the swedes.

❛  warnings | kidnapping, forced marriage, general assholery

❛ sy’s notes | this chapter mostly has interaction with my oc. it fills in the gaps of last chapter.

Your steps stagger toward your age-old friend, the pier. Every day you would finish preparing the náttmál for Thyri and Harald, when he was in Kattegat, and carry on toward your pier with the booze you took great pride in brewing. Your clothes begin to fray at the edges despite the fine craftsmanship sewn by your hands alone. In preference for booze or clothes, you prefer booze. It is not as if you had not heard the women call you names.

She’s the prince’s whore, they said. They have their point. You spread your legs for Hvitserk, clung onto his shoulders, and enjoyed him while he was yours. Now, he wasn’t. He was Thora’s man and you doubt she has the willingness to share.

“He loves me,” Thora told you one day. “And I love him.”

Fair enough. She won. You lost.

You lift the bronze bottle to your lips and enjoy the sear down your throat. In these days, you look over the waves lapsing in and out of Kattegat’s busy harbour. Soon the happy couple would come after their night of happy feasting and fucking to come to cheer you up. Perhaps, if you didn’t have to see his face, it would be that much easier. The moon glitters up across sky beside the twinkling stars, her lovely face light and glistening out over the waves that tickle your feet, deep in the waves.

The plates of the wood bow underneath a stranger’s feet. They bounce, reverberating to where you lay with your skirts splayed open. You’re minimally concerned with it. Hvitserk. Thora. They come for you soon.

“Go away.” You groan. The steps slow to a stop.

Here was the part where Hvitserk would kneel before you and tell you how beautiful you were. Except in its absence, a pair of hands drag you across the floorboards, yanking you upon your feet. You almost undoubtedly expect Hvitserk’s playful green eyes trying to coerce you into his small cabin. Instead, the crinkling of a man’s conspiring eye meets you. His hands palm their way around your hips, causing you to shriek in your surprise.

“Who-- Who are you?” You slur in your shock, your leather clad feet kicking as he lifts you up against his broad chest. He’s a large man, with features slightly pretty, if you could tear your eyes away from the empty hole of his eye socket. The man tilts his head, the one remaining eye cold like steel.

“I’ve got her, brother!”

He turns, securing you against his chest as he pounds down the pier toward an older man. The second has hair just as wild and furious as the shapeshifter Loki.

“Put me down,” you say even in tone.

“Then let’s go!” He turns in a shift of the warm furs and wool cloak, kicking up grainy sand on the flat beach. They beat down another pier and the sheer shock settles low in your stomach. Your scarred hand grips the man’s cloak, thrashing in his arms in your abortive attempt. He’s a strong man with well-corded arms that keep you restrained, almost as if he’s done this before. Your nails dig into his face, digging skin on top of dirt that you’ve not cleaned that night. It doesn’t phase him.

“Put me down!”

“She’s a feisty one,” the other man reaches for the long plank that is set out from their strange ship across the empty space of land onto their ship.

“She’ll calm down, yeah? Won’t you (Y/N)? Be a good girl!” The man gives a squeeze of your ass, scoffing into a warm laugh.  Your hips jerk away from him, not at all understanding how he might know your name. You notice a few younger men pounding down the pier, throwing women young and old into the boat beside you. Women. It’s only women. They’re hunting women.

“Hvit…” you sob. It settles low in your stomach when the man boards the boat. “Hvitserk, please!”

The man throws you down upon the boat. Your exhaustive eyes bore up at the man when he ties the pale rope around your wrists with one, two, and three loops before he knots the rope tight. It dips into your wrists, bound there. Your prince’s name dabbles pathetically on your lips, your lower lip straining and rolling in.

“He isn’t coming,” the man leans in, his ruddy beard tickling your sun-cracked lips. “But don’t worry my little wife, I’ll take good care of you for him.”

After all, why would he come? Your tears stop streaming.

Being on a boat was a miserable existence. Ran’s powerful waves like to sweep in, moisten the hands of the rowers. You pray to her to take you too. One powerful wave and it could be done and over with. You would not have to worry about anything at all. The woman next to you chokes on her cough and inevitably, she’s thrown over. Swedes, as you learned, were as savage as you always heard from Harald.

“We’ve spotted home,” your captor slunk over to you, placing a fur over your shoulders. As opposed to the cold and damp women, he often brought his furs to warm you. He’s taking care of his stolen goods, you lament.

“Good for you,” your voice scratches. You wipe your misty face over the sleeve of your dress. He balances on the balls of his feet as he looks you over, his eye tracing your jaw and then down lower, across your chest.

“My father will want to marry us as soon as we land,” he states.

“I do not even know your name,” you respond.

“Jonakr.” He rubs his reddish beard. “Son of…”

“Siggeir.”

“The same,” he assures, reaching out so that he might stroke his large hand over your cheek. “We will marry and you may rest a good night. The trip has been long and tedious upon a woman of heartache.”

You turn away from his hand and look out toward the rocking waves. Miles off you spot what land he speaks of. The shore is flat as home, but it’s different. It’s not home. You turn back to look at your betrothed, the bags under your eyes puffy and thick.

“You’ve been watching me.” You state.

“A good time.” Jonakr raises, his large arms settling upon his pasty barrel of a chest behind plates of armour. “Unlike Thora and Hvitserk, you are a hard worker. You will bring me many sons.”

If that was the legacy that you wanted, you might have thought of it as flattery. Maybe one time you dreamed of having many children with Hvitserk and giving him a legacy to be proud of. Now, you thought, there was no escaping this lest you throw yourself upon a sword.

It wasn’t unappealing.

The shore was beautiful. You thought that Jonakr would rush you into the hall to marry straight away. He untied your hands based upon your unwillingness to run. No matter where you went, there was no escape from one fate or another. If the gods led you here, you decided that you would stay. For what was there at home other than a man who did not love you?

“The shore is lovely,” you say. Behind you, thralls arrange your wedding. Soon you would be whisked away and prepared for a wedding that you never imagined having.

“Birka is the same as Kattegat. Busy.” He states, his scarred hand lazy upon your shoulder.

“I see,” you whisper. Jonakr leads you toward the tent where you were to be married. You glance behind you to fiery, barefoot haired women that stand just outside of the tent. You look to one and then the other.

“These are my sisters. They will prepare you.”

You exhale a long breath, looking down to your scarred hands. Jonakr grasps them, bringing them back up for a kiss to your knuckles. It almost soothes you when he clears his throat, almost in his own anxiety. Is he nervous, you wonder.

“I will see you soon.”

Somewhere upon the distant horizon, there was no way you could see the boats flying a black and red raven. 

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @lisinfleur,  @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102,  @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @two-unbeatable-beaters, @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @atequilahead, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @queenmissfit,  @hallowed-heathen, @neeadinghugs, @mblaqgi, , @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @attorneyl, @iconicvaleria-blog, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @austenkingmylady, @pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @laughinglikenialler,, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass

#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings/reader #honestsycrets #imagines #the vikings #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #Hvitty x reader #hvitserk imagine #vikings x reader

[atc74]

Monkey See, Monkey Do - Chapter Six

Square Filled: Oral Fixation

Warnings: Polyamory, Sex club, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (in an established relationship, assume they using some type of protection), dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), top!Sam, bottom!Dean, bi!Sam, bi!Dean. All play is consensual in this established poly relationship.

Summary:  Dean Smith is in a committed relationship with his two best friends. They give him all he could ever want. But sometimes, he wants a little more than he knows how to ask for. His two lovers surprise him with a night out for his 40th birthday, bringing his fantasies to life.

Pairing: Dean Smith x Reader x Sam Wesson

Word Count: 401

Written for: @spnkinkbingo

Beta’d by: @just-another-busy-fangirl, my bingo dealer and kink guru, and @hannahindie, my constant cheerleader and forever ally. I don’t know what I would do without either of you.

Monkey See, Monkey Do Master List

“Now, you said something about eating my pussy? It’s your birthday Dean, and I have no problem helping you with your oral fixation.” She laid back, both her arms above her head and spread her legs for him, putting her pussy on display for both of them.

“Dean, if you don’t take that right now, I will,” Sam pushed him from behind, playfully biting his shoulder. “Besides, I can’t wait to get back in that fine ass.”

“I got no argument,” Dean murmured as he pulled Y/N down to meet his face. He dived in, devouring her. His tongue licked her bottom to top, back down and up and over. Her legs started trembling with ecstasy as he quickly drove her to her peak.

While Dean was buried nose deep in Y/N’s pretty little cunt, Sam buried himself balls deep in Dean’s ass. With the prep he had already done, minimal lube was required and Sam slid home, groaning as Dean’s warmth enveloped him.

Dean’s body slid further up the bed with each hard thrust Sam delivered. With each inch, he pressed further into Y/N’s pussy. His tongue fucked in and out of her hole, while his nose bumped her clit over and over. It wasn’t long before she screamed his name and came, her juices covering his nose, lips and chin.

“Sam, faster, please,” Dean urged. He gripped Y/N’s hips, pulling her under him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as another thrust from Sam pushed Dean’s leaking cock into her dripping cunt. Thrust after thrust, Sam fucked Dean and Dean fucked Y/N.

“Dean, I’m g-gonna come,” Sam grunted, sweat dripping off his face and falling onto Dean’s back.

“Do it, Sam. Come for me,” Dean encouraged his lover. He looked down into Y/N’s eyes. “Come for us.”

Over the music, their hearts beating in their chests and the blood rushing through their veins, a chorus of groans, shouts and screams never left the privacy of their little playroom.

Sam came first, stilling his movements as he emptied himself inside Dean’s ass. Dean took over moving between them, railing into Y/N and she came with their names on her lips, clenching her walls around Dean and pulling him to his own end as he spilled inside of her. The three lovers collapsed beside each other, content to doze in each other’s arms.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth  @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99 @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @kdfrqqg @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @cherrycokegirls1 @mogaruke @kickingitwithkirk @wotinspntarnation

The Dean’s List: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @wingedcatninja  @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x  @elara98azalea @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @pretty-fortune​  @deanwinchesterwitch​

The Sam Sin-dicate: @supernatural-jackles  @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x  @pretty-fortune @team-free-will-you-idjits-67

MSMD: @maximumkillshot​  @fake-blue-flowers​ @nevaeh-potter15​ @shaelyn102​ @wayward-and-worn​ @saxxxology​ @gr4v3y4rdg1rl​ @deansgirl79​  @katehuntington​ @allonsy-yesiwill​  @babypink224221​ @slut-for-jared​ @fanfictionjunkie1112​ @ellallheart​

#spnkinkbingo #dean smith #sam wesson #dean smith x sam wesson #dean smith x sam wesson x reader #polyamory #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural au

[moderatelypanickedbiromantic]

Tell Me I’m Lying... Part Two

Word Count: 952

Warnings: none

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Reader needs a distraction so she sets off to Texas to work on a case... alone.

-

-

-

-

-

Days had gone by since Dean told you he loved you. You hadn’t opened the door, and though he stayed right on the other side for hours he had eventually left. You hadn’t spoken to him since, aside from a few overly polite greetings, and you had for the most part, avoided him. Maybe you were scared, maybe you were angry. You weren’t quite sure.

The only thing you knew for certain was that you couldn’t bring yourself to be in his presence for more than a few minutes. And when he and Sam left yesterday for a hunt in Atlanta, you had declined going with them. So it was just you, alone, in the bunker. And you were certain that you were slowly going crazy. You didn’t want to think. About Caleb. Dean. Anything. And in the bunker that was all you could do.

He had told you he loved you, and though you wouldn’t allow yourself to believe him those three little words were on a near-constant replay in your head. How many nights have I imagined hearing those words from him? you asked yourself with a pained sigh. You shook your head before slipping your phone into your pocket and walking out the bunker door.

You needed coffee, and other people. What you really needed was a hunt, but you’d settle for a busy cafe while you searched for one. In your car you blared alternative rock from the speakers and forced yourself to sing along. Thinking that maybe it would keep you from thinking too much.

Fifteen minutes later you were sitting at a corner booth with a latte in one hand and your phone in the other. You were scrolling through the national news feeds searching for anything out of the ordinary. At this point you’d be happy with an unusual papercut. Two hours later and you were gathering all the information available on a string of murders in Bardwell, Texas. Each victim had been found with their hearts missing, and their deaths lined up with the full moon going back at least six months. You hadn’t bothered to check any further back then that, you had all the info you needed. And there were plenty of silver bullets in your trunk.

You felt guilty for leaving when you promised Sam you wouldn’t hunt alone, and you considered sending him a text letting him know where you were going. But you knew he’d try to talk you out of it. You had handled werewolves plenty when you were hunting on your own. In fact, you had almost exclusively specialized in hunting werewolves after your sisters murder. You had only really branched out after the Winchesters took you under their wing.

The drive to Bardwell went by quicker than you expected it to. You only stopped for gas and food aside from a quick stop a town over from Bardwell to change into your heels and business suit. There wasn’t much you could do with your hair since you wore it short but you managed to make it look professional before applying a minimal amount of makeup using your car's mirror.

You glanced at the clock when you pulled up to the latest victims house. They had left behind a wife and three children. Three o’clock. Not too late for a visit from the FBI, you decided. You tucked your badge into your blazers inside pocket before making your way to the door. Toys littered the yard, and a small red and yellow car big enough for a child to sit in sat beside the front door. A kind-looking black woman opened the door with a welcoming smile, but her eyes were red and puffy.

“May I help you?” she asked.

You slipped your badge out of your pocket and flipped it open so that she could see it. “I’m very sorry to bother you ma’am, but I have some questions about your wife’s murder.” She visibly flinched at the words and you regretted not phrasing them better, but there was nothing to be done now. “It will just take a few minutes of your time.”

“Of course.” The woman opened the door wider and invited you inside. Once you both had settled down in her living room, on opposite ends of the same couch, you began your questions.

She didn’t tell you much you hadn’t already heard from the news reports. Her wife had been found mauled in the backyard by their youngest daughter. No one had been home during the attack because she had been dropping off her oldest at a sleepover. The police had assumed it was an animal attack at first but the coroner found human DNA during the autopsy. She showed you the backyard where the body had been found, there were claw marks in the wooden fence. Long and deep ones. They didn’t look like anything an animal could leave behind. But other then that nothing looked out of the ordinary.

“Thank you for your time,” you said as she escorted you to the front door. You didn’t have much to go on, but there wasn’t any point in bothering the woman any longer. She had been through enough already, and your presence wasn’t helping anyone. You had two more days to track this thing down, and almost nothing to go on. All the other attacks had been in alleyways, this was the first one to take place on the outskirts of town.

Your phone buzzed as you got into your car and you glanced at it. You had two other messages you hadn’t noticed before from Sam. This latest one though was from Dean. “Where are you?”

“Not in Kansas anymore.”

Taglist: @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @the-helpful-narwhal

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you’d like to be added/removed from the taglist let me know.

#dean x reader #dean winchester #spn imagine #supernatural fic #sam winchester #kansas #texas #spnfanfiction #less than a 1000 words #sera writes #werewolves #hunters

[rockhoochie]

All In

THIS WORK IS FOR PERSONS 18 YEARS AND OLDER.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean (No Wincest) 

WC: ~8,000

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit sexual content, explicit language, dom/sub undertones, dom!Sam, sub!Reader, name-calling, unprotected sex (wrap it up, peeps!) dirty filthy smut, and a teensy bit of fluff.

Summary: Y/N has been riding with the Winchesters for months, falling for both Sam and Dean. Among the twinkling lights of Las Vegas, she uncovers a secret they’ve been keeping from her - one that may change all of their lives in a way she could never imagine.

Y/N Submit: Interactive Fics (What is this?)

Author’s Notes: Whew, this escalated quickly! Written for the wonderful @squirrel-moose-winchester ‘s 1K Make it Dirty Gif Challenge. My gif is embedded in the text. This is the first threesome I’ve ever written, so...well, I hope I did okay! I love your comments and reblogs, so if you enjoyed this please let me know! Special thanks to my beta - my husband. And as always, thank YOU so much for reading! 

**My work is not to be copied, altered, or shared to other sites without my express written permission**

We’d finally rolled into Vegas in the late afternoon. After three weeks on the Rugaru hunt from hell, all three of us were beyond ready for a break. Thanks to Sam and his newly acquired platinum card, he splurged on a beautiful two-room suite. Compared to our usual accommodations it felt foreign, almost too luxurious and self-indulgent. But hell, if we didn’t deserve it.  

Sam and Dean settled into the room with two queen beds, letting me have the king room to myself - along with it’s attached, private bathroom that included a whirlpool tub. The only quid-pro-quo was that I let Dean use it at least once.

After stuffing ourselves at the hotel buffet we each went our separate ways. Sam had tried to talk me into going hiking with him at some nature preserve, while Dean rambled something about Baby needing a new set of rims and wanting someone to blow on his dice. Insisting that neither activity interested me, I told them I was just going to hang out by the hotel pool.

I lied.

I really needed to get away from the two of them for a while, and I needed to be alone.

After shutting the door to my room, I flopped down on the soft, pillow-top mattress with a moan that would rival any porn star’s.

Sam and Dean Winchester crashed into my life nearly a year ago, after rescuing my careless ass from the throes of a witch’s curse. I had been taken miles from my current hideout and my ever faithful but piece of crap car, with nothing but the clothes on my back and about two bucks in my pocket. They took me to the bunker, set me up with some gear and a couple of new credit cards, and let me recover from the powerful spell that had nearly killed me. The night before I’d planned to be on my way, a solid lead on a werewolf pack they’d been tracking came in, and I’d offered to lend them an extra pair of hands.

It turned out that the three of us made an impeccable team, taking out the pack in record time with minimal damage to ourselves. Soon after, case after case seemed to find us, as though the universe didn’t want to allow me to part ways with them. And amidst all the dirt, blood, and fire we left in our wake, a loving friendship grew fast and strong between us.

I felt more at home with them that I ever had anywhere. Unlike the other hunters I'd known, they never underestimated me, knowing I could hold my own but never failing to hold me up when I needed them to. They had faith in my strengths and reinforced my weaknesses, all the while being ever the gentlemen. Weeks flew by, quickly building into months; months that earned me a comfortable place in the Impala’s back seat, my own room at the bunker and an insistent invitation to join them in Vegas.

All served up by two of the most gorgeous hunters ever to salt and burn their way across this earth.

Living and hunting with Sam and Dean had become delectable torture. The two of them unknowingly branded the most indecent, lecherous fantasies into my brain, reigniting a sex drive had been shelved once I’d started hunting. The more time we spent together - on the road, sharing close quarters, in small towns and seedy bars, or engrossed in late night research sessions - the more my imagination went wild. There were mornings - too many mornings - that I struggled to look them in the eye after what I’d done with one or both of them in my dreams.

And it was getting harder and harder to push the thoughts away. Every day I spent with them filled me with more desire than I’d ever felt in my life.

There was Sam, with his hazel eyes that switched their dominant shade to match whatever color flannel he wore, with his sweet smile and gentle laugh, those sharp cheekbones, long fingers, and hard, chiseled body…the several times I’d seen him working out shirtless had me sprinting to my room and my hand sliding straight into my pants.

There was Dean, with his sense of humor, those crinkles that formed on the corners of his forest green eyes any time he grinned with his uncannily perfect lips, freckles that adorably dusted his nose, his bowed legs and firm, broad chest…everything he did, from the way he devoured a bacon cheeseburger to the way his muscles strained when he worked on Baby, left me wet and aching.

God, what I wanted them to do to me...things I never imagined that I would want or find pleasure in. To let my guard down, to be at their mercy and obey any sinful command they issued...a single night of that, and I would die a happy woman. Maybe it was because they made me feel safe. Protected, yet respected. I trusted them with my life - I would trust them implicitly with my body.

But I knew it could never happen, with either of them. On the off chance something ever did transpire with one of them, I knew I’d still be wistfully attracted to the other. I’d long ago given up on trying to decide which man I wanted more, so I let myself get lost envisioning the three of us twisted together. Since nothing would ever come of it, what was the harm in a little X-rated daydreaming? I knew we loved one another, but I had fallen in love with them, and I was sure neither Sam or Dean saw me in the same light. Playful flirting aside, we were just three hunters who couldn’t possibly maintain normal relationships. But that was this life. Saving people, hunting things...it was a lonely business when it came to finding love.

So, I resigned myself into letting out my pent-up frustrations on subpar one-night stands whenever I had the rare chance, which always left me less than satisfied.  More often, I settled for burning through batteries and putting myself in danger of developing a nasty case of trigger finger.

Our last hunt had almost killed me. Smack in the middle of Northwest Nowhere, there had only been one motel with one available room. At least there had been two beds, and at least we were comfortable enough to take turns sharing. But the nights either of them was next to me - Dean’s leathery, oaky scent taunting me, his warmth just out of my reach... the way Sam would sleep curled on his side, creating a space that seemed made for me to be nestled in... I had nearly gone insane. One shot of whiskey away from opening my mouth and making a huge mistake.

Which is why I desperately needed to go out tonight. After weeks on the road with the world’s finest embodiments of walking sex, I needed to get laid.

No, I needed to get fucked. Hard.

Hopefully somewhere in the swarm of Las Vegas inhabitants and tourists I could find a decent guy to sate me for a while. Someone tall and built, someone kind and funny and smart. A girl can dream, right?

Before parting ways, the three of us had planned to meet back up in the room, grab a late dinner at a restaurant with actual linen tablecloths, then head out to a club. Neither Sam or Dean had seemed too keen on the club idea, but instantly changed their tune after I suggested just going out on my own. I knew it was involuntary, protective instinct on their part - and honestly, it kind of turned me on - but hopefully after a few drinks, they’d each find themselves a distraction and leave me to my own devices.

Rolling off the bed, I called the front desk and had them send up a bottle of merlot. There had been a time, years ago, when all I would drink was wine. I could barely remember the last time I had it, since whiskey in all its forms is a vital part of a hunter’s toolkit. Fresh out of Bactine for the gash that Wraith gave you? Pour some Johnny Walker on it. Need to anesthetize yourself to dig a bullet out of your flesh? Nothing does it quite like six shots of Jack Daniels. Need to calm yourself after seeing a Winchester walk out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel? Jim Beam to the rescue.

‘Hunter’s Helper’ indeed.

A knock on the door signaled my alcohol delivery. The room service attendant, a pretty Indonesian woman about my age and height, greeted me with my bottle, two glasses, and a smile. I let her in to open the wine and pour it into the delicate glasses, filling them halfway while we exchanged pleasantries. Once she left, I unceremoniously dumped one into the other, grabbed the bottle, and sipped on my nearly overflowing glass as I made my way into the bathroom.

Placing my drink on the vanity, I sat on the side of the tub and turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature and letting the water flow over my fingers for a moment. Then I stripped out of my road-worn clothes, tossing them in a pile in the corner. Glass in hand, I stood and sipped, naked, waiting for the bath to fill. The wine was already sending a pleasant flush through me as I watched the steam rise. Jesus, how long had it been since I had a bath and not a shower? Maybe Dean could figure out how to put a tub in the shower room at the bunker...

That one little thought shot straight to my core, and now all I could picture was him, his brother and I in a slick, bubbly bath together...hot and wet, Sam’s lips trailing along my neck, his hand cupping and teasing one breast while Dean's mouth attended to the other, his fingers on a slow but steady course to reach between my legs…

Fuck.

I gulped down the rest of my merlot, poured myself a refill, and shut the faucet off. Setting the jet timer to 20 minutes, I slid into the tub, placing my glass on the ledge with a heavy sigh. Apparently even getting away from them was useless. For a brief moment, I considered letting the pulsing water beat against something other than my stiff muscles.

Instead, I decided to stave it off, in hopes of actual human contact. If I did manage to find a decent guy tonight, I almost pitied him - I was so worked up and tense, craving the weight of a body on me so badly that it would probably be over in ten minutes.

I let myself relax, forcing the thoughts of being wedged between two slippery Winchesters out by mentally reciting random incantations and spells for practice as I finished my wine.

The timer seemed to click off much too quickly, bringing the swirling bathwater to a stop. But between the heat and the wine, I was flushed red hot and a little lightheaded. I pulled myself out of the tub slowly, wrapping one of the plush towels around me and headed back to my bed. I turned the air conditioning up higher, letting the frigid breeze dry up the sweat that rolled down my cheeks.

Drowsiness dug its claws into me, drawing out a heavy yawn as I dug through my bag. I’d get dressed up later - for now, my ‘hoping-to-get-some-tonight’ underwear was all I needed. It was my one set of anything remotely resembling lingerie I had - after all, no need to be sexy while dripping in Ghoul goo or decapitating vampires. It was simple, a lacy, white cotton bra with thin black straps that sported a little black bow between the cups, and matching cheeky panties with a twin ribbon at the top. Unpretentious and not at all racy, but as I put them on I found myself feeling a little sexy for a change, unable to help myself from wondering if Sam and Dean would approve.

God, I needed sleep.

Eyeing the soft, complimentary bathrobe hanging in my closet, I wrapped it around me, then flung myself back on the bed. The clock on the nightstand read 5:02pm. I had a few hours before they’d get back and slipping into unconsciousness seemed like the best way to shut my brain off. Wrapping my arms around a spare pillow, I burrowed my face in it, breathing in the faint scent of lavender. This hotel was spoiling me. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

I woke to the murmur of Sam’s and Dean’s voices outside my bedroom door. A little groggy from the wine and nap, I peered at the clock. Shit, it was after eight already. Why didn’t they wake me up? Maybe they tried and I was so out they didn’t want to bother me? After a full body stretch, I swung my legs over the bed and shuffled to the door. I could hear that they were in the middle of what seemed to be a lively conversation, and when I heard my name, I slowed my stride. Curiosity got the best of me, so I leaned close to the door and eavesdropped.

“...going out to a club with her, I don’t know.”

“What’s the big deal? Look, we can't hold her back from living her own life.”

“I don’t think I can stomach watching all these Vegas douchebags hit on her. The dicks she picks up - none of ‘em are good enough for her.”

Holy shit, they don’t think I’m here.

“She has to watch you hit on girls all the time, Dean. Bartenders...waitresses...Gas n’ Sip clerks...morticians...librari-”

“Not lately she hasn’t! I can hardly even look at other women anymore. And none of the guys she gets gives her what she wants. I hear ‘em leaving her room after two hours...or less.”

“How do you know what she wants? Has she actually told you her sexual fantasies?”

“Not exactly...kinda borrowed her laptop one night, after she went to bed. She forgot to close a couple of tabs and…”

“And?”

Oh god, no... please not…

“Chick gettin' spanked, tied up a little bit...callin’ the guy ‘Sir’, begging him to get her off with a -”

“Okay, okay, got it. Look, just because she likes watching it doesn't necessarily mean she likes to actually do that stuff.”

Too bad that Rugaru didn’t get me, because I am going to die from embarrassment anyway.

“Right. That's why you watch the same shit, because you only like to see it, not do it. Maybe she watches it because she wants to try it.”

“What else was she watching?”

“Two guys...one girl...”

“Really? Huh...”

Shit. Shit, shit shit. I’m going to have to move out. I can never look at these two again.

“I mean, a woman like Y/N... she needs to be treated right.”

“All right. What would you have to offer her that any other guy wouldn't?”

“How about the best night of her goddamn life?”

What?

“Wow, you’ve got a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

“Well, ever see a girl leave my room after an hour? Or yours for that matter? Doubt that she can act out her fantasies with random townies. Better to try that stuff out with someone you trust.”

“And I suppose you think you’d be the perfect guy for her.”

“Either one of us would be. Ah come on, Sammy, you love her as much as I do, I know you still think about it. Y/N’s a fuckin’ knockout.”

“Of course I love her, but we work with her. Hey, we’ve talked about this, it’s better for all of us to just to let it go. So no, I haven’t even thought about -”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“‘Excuse me?”

“You still moan her name in your sleep!”

“Well at least I’m doing it unconsciously!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sorry, has she been showering with you lately, or is your hand’s name ‘Y/N’? You’d better keep it down or we might lose her.”

Oh my god. Am I really hearing this? Sam and Dean think about me this way? Want me? Love me?

“What can I say? She's smokin’ hot, sassy, smart as hell and a damn good hunter. All I know is I’m not sure what I wouldn't give for just one night with her. And I know you’re still thinking the same thing. “

“You don't know what I'm thinking”.

“Come on, man. You're thinking about wrapping that tie you're wearing around her wrists and smacking her beautiful, perfect ass while I'm busy licking every inch of her body.”

“Dude!”

“Jesus, sleeping next to her in that shitty motel...I almost said something, Sammy. You know, maybe we should just lay it all out, let her know how we feel.”

This is a joke. They know I’m here and they’re playing an evil practical joke on me and I’m going to kick both their asses six ways from Sunday...

“Dean, this...this is so not normal.”

“Name one damn thing about our life that is!  We don’t get normal - never will. Plus, we’ve shared before...that chick in Dayton, that stripper in St. Louis -”

I’m dreaming. I’m still in that bed, drunk from half a bottle of wine and I’m dreaming.

“Yeah, but that was just...sex. This is Y/N.”

“Exactly. She needs us, and dammit Sam... we need her, and you know it. I say we go all in.”

“I don’t know...do you really think she’d be okay with it? I mean, what if she freaks out and runs, thinks she’s been living with a couple of psychopaths?”

“We are psychopaths...this line of work... And at least we’d know. I can’t hold out much longer, man. One of these days I’m gonna open my dumb mouth and it’s just gonna come out.”

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“You should ask her.”

“Me? Why me? You’re the one with the god-awful pickup lines that surprisingly seem to work.”

”I just think she’d rather hear it from you.”

“I can’t just ask her flat out, ‘hey, wanna have a threesome’!”

“Well...one of us needs to do it or it ain’t ever gonna happen... Come on.”

“Dean, you can’t be serious...”

“As a heart attack. Let’s go, two outta three.”

“Fine.”

Sam and Dean Winchester were in love with me.

Sam and Dean Winchester were playing Rock-Paper-Scissors to decide who was going to ask if they could both fuck me.

I’d heard enough.

“You know I can hear you both,” I shouted through the door.

 Then I pushed it open.

There they were, both sitting on the sofa in their Fed suits, hands readied for their next round of roshambo. Sam swept his head in my direction, eyebrows raising in surprise as Dean quickly came to the realization that they were both busted.

Sam cleared his throat loudly and stood up. “Hey, Y/N… we were just...we thought you were still down by the pool and... we, uh...you still need some time to get dressed?” He was beet red, nervously running a hand through his chestnut hair.

My lips curved in a smile. “Unless I didn’t hear the two of you correctly, I don’t need to bother.”

Dean leaned back against the couch. “Y/N/N... exactly how much did you hear?”

Sam sat back down as I walked slowly toward them. Apprehension kept me from confessing everything that I’d heard them say. It felt too good to be true and I didn’t trust it yet.  

“Let’s see...something about a threesome and the best night of my life?”

For all the talking they had been doing just moments before, they seemed to be at a loss for words. I folded my arms across my chest.

“Well?” I quipped playfully.

“Y/N, we’re so sorry,” Sam stammered. “We just...we didn’t think you were here and we were…it’s not...shit...” He bent his head forward, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Guys, I’m not mad. Not one bit.”

Dean grinned like a Cheshire cat as Sam looked back up at me with surprise.

“Really?”

I could feel myself blush as I nodded my head ‘yes’, fiddling with the tie on my robe. “So, what’s happens now?”

They both glanced at each other, speaking in that silent way that was always indiscernible to me but crystalline clear between them.

Dean patted the empty space on the cushion between him and his brother. “Why don’t you have a seat, sweetheart?”

I settled between them, my pulse pounding, straining to keep my composure and not throw myself at both of them right then and there.

Dean brushed a finger across my temple, pushing away a few strands of my hair. “So you’d really be okay with this? This is something you’d want?”

I turned to Sam, resting my hand on his knee. “It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.”

His hand covered mine and gently squeezed. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“No. But you two have?”

“A few times.”

Dean was running his hand up and down my arm, keeping uncharacteristically quiet.

“How about the things you like to watch?” Sam continued. “Being...dominated a little? Is that what you really like?”

Plush lips ghosted against my ear as the hand stroking my arm moved to my leg, still over the fabric of my bathrobe, gently massaging from my knee to the middle of my thigh.

“The thought of it, watching it... I wouldn’t mind trying it for myself. Do you like to do it?”

“To a point. But we don’t have to do that tonight- we can just keep it vanilla if-”

“Oh hell no, Winchester,” I winked, melting into Dean’s touch, “I’m all in.”

Sam grinned. “Okay. We’ll start slow. But at any time, any time at all, if you don’t like something, just say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ and we’ll move on. Is that okay?”

My eyes were fluttering shut as Dean’s caress became stronger, my head reeling at the thought of what was coming.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Sam asked softly.

“Yeah, I heard. I say no, you stop.”

“One other thing. Dean and I, we kind of have...an arrangement when we do this. We’ll both be in this, but...well, I call the shots.”

I looked into Sam’s eyes and was met with an intensity I’d never seen before - not on a hunt, not after a kill, not from a win...it was unadulterated, predatory lust.

“Meaning?”

A wicked grin stretched across his lips. “Dean,” he said, “stop touching her.”

Immediately, Dean lifted his hand and pulled himself away.

Sam cupped my face in his hands, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “It means, Y/N, that I’m in charge and you both do what I say when I say it. Dean gets leeway, but not you. Do you understand?”

I could feel myself trembling, excitement and arousal and the thrill of exploring uncharted territory with the two men I loved coursing through every cell in my body. All I could manage was a nod.

Sam tutted with disapproval, tipping my chin upwards. “Rule one, Y/N/N, I ask you a question, you answer with your words.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes Sam, I understand.”

“Rule two, you don’t get to call me Sam. You call me Sir, Daddy, or Master. Your choice. And that,” he said pointing to his brother, “is Dean. Only ‘Dean’. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he hummed, burying his nose in my hair, his lips ghosting along my neck. “And besides Y/N, what should we call you?”

“I liked you calling me a good girl.”

“Okay. Is there anything else you’d like to be called?”

“Whatever you and Dean want to call me, Sir.”

“Are you sure?” Sam took my face in his hands, leaning in, barely brushing his lips against mine. His massive hand slid up the back of my neck, gripping a fistful of hair but not pulling, the buzz of his low, seductive voice vibrating against my lips. “We’ll call you a good girl, Y/N, but what if we call you a naughty little whore? What happens if I call you my slut or Dean calls you his fucktoy? Would that be okay, princess?”

“Yes Sir, all of it,” I breathed, waiting for Sam’s mouth to fully claim mine, ready for the deep, probing kiss I had only been able to dream about until now.

“All right then,” he said, pulling away. “Now how about you stand up for us?”

Biting back a huff of disappointment I complied, lifting myself off the couch. Both brothers were smirking, Sam with one foot propped up on his knee, fingers steepled against his lips. Dean leaned back and loosened his tie, legs open, displaying the impressive bulge between them.

“Dean, where should we start with her?”

“I think she should take off that robe and let us see what we’ve been missing all this time.”

“Take it off, Y/N.”

I tugged at the already loose knot, gasping as the robe opened and the cool air of the room hit my bare skin. I shrugged it completely off, letting it fall to the floor.

“Damn, sweetheart,” Dean rasped.

“Very nice Y/N. Now turn around. Let us have a good look at you.

Pivoting, I turned my back to them, craning my neck over my shoulder to see their reactions.

“You were right, Dean. She does have a perfect ass. I can’t wait until she misbehaves and I get to spank it.”

I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips as wondered how the hell I was still standing.

“Christ baby girl, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Y/N,” Sam said, “Thank Dean for the nice compliment.”

“Thank you, Dean,” I purred. “And thank you, Sir.”

“Behaving so well already. Turn back around.”

I turned again to directly meet their stares. Sam leaned back, and I could see his prominent erection twitching under the fabric of his pants. Dean already had his hand on his, dragging his palm against himself.

“Y/N, I want you to sit next to Dean.”

Dean’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as I sat as close to him as possible, placing my hand on his thigh. His hand floated from between his legs to my lace-shielded breasts, his lips attaching to my neck as he kneaded and teased each one. My head fell back with a moan when his hand traveled downwards, my hips rocking back and forth in anticipation of being touched where I needed it the most.

“Hmm, someone’s eager,” he mumbled against my neck.

“Dean, please…Sir, can Dean touch me?”

“He is touching you, princess.”

“Need more,” I whimpered as Dean’s finger trailed just under the waistline of my panties.

“She does,” Dean husked, placing his warm hand against the fabric of my covered sex. “Can already feel how wet she is for us.” My body jerked with a gasp as he pressed against the wetness that was beginning to seep through my underwear.

Sam shifted his position, giving himself a better angle to watch his brother tease me. “All right. Go ahead.”

Dean finally slipped his calloused hand under my panties, dragging his finger just along my slit.

“Christ, she’s fucking soaked.”  He sunk into my entrance, pumping a few times before tracing my folds and circling my clit. I gripped his knee hard, letting out a moan.

“I want to see it,” Sam ordered, rising from the couch and seating himself on the cocktail table directly in front of Dean and me.  “Get those panties off of her and give them to me. Then Y/N, spread those legs nice and wide so I can watch Dean play with you.”

I raised my hips as Dean pulled my underwear off of me, sliding them over my feet and tossing them to his brother. Sam caught them, feeling the damp material between his fingers as Dean slipped and crooked two fingers inside me, the heel of his hand pressing against my clit, my hips rocking hard against his hand. A sudden rush of heat coursed through me, quickly igniting into a whirling blaze.

“Wow Y/N, you are excited,” Sam marveled, raising my panties to his face and taking a deep breath. “And you smell absolutely amazing...we’ll definitely have to get a taste. How does she feel?

“Fuckin’ perfect. So warm and wet...nice and tight...this sweet little pussy’s gonna take our cocks so good…”

The way they were using me and the things they were saying, the audible heaviness of Sam's breathing and Dean's touch, and the simple fact that this was actually happening crashed over me like a rogue wave.

“Dean, fuck!” I yelped, my orgasm surging through me without warning, my walls pulsing around Dean’s fingers as I slammed against his hand harder.

He worked me through it, his head nuzzled against my neck until I relaxed, closing my eyes as I caught my breath.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled.

I let my eyes flutter open to see Sam's boring into mine, his lips pursed and jaw set firm, fingers tapping against the tabletop.

“Needy little whore, coming so fast...I'll let it go just this once, since you didn't give me time to tell you the last rule.” Sam leaned forward, cupping my chin in his hand. “You tell us if you're about to come, and you ask for permission to come. You do not come unless I say you can. Even if it's Dean's fingers, tongue or cock inside you, you ask me. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I’m sorry Sir.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Now give him a kiss and thank him for getting you off.”

Dean reached for me and pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. He didn’t give me time to open my mouth for anything other than the bruising kiss he delivered. Finally, finally feeling his tongue slide against mine was glorious - from the way he tasted to the way he cradled my head in his hand, how the other splayed against the small of my back, pressing me closer into him. I all but disappeared into the kiss, coherent thought an impossibility, grinding against his hard, covered cock. Dean released my lips and kissed down my jawline, under my chin, making his way to my collarbone. Flushed and panting, I tilted my head back to give his soft, perfect lips better access.

I was snapped back into reality when I felt a hot, hard smack on my ass. Then both of Sam’s large hands curled over my shoulders.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he rumbled.

“Thank you, Dean,” I uttered, unable to stop myself from sliding along his hard length. “Thank you for making me come.”

Dean flashed a wolfish smile. “There’s our good girl. Did you like it, sweetheart? Me making you come while Sam watched?”

Sparks of arousal were igniting through me as I continued to rock against him. “Yes, Dean.”

He replied with a grunt, jerking his hips upwards, watching my bare pussy drag against him. “Feel how fucking hard I am for you, Y/N? Oh, just wait till I get this inside you...”

“Enough,” Sam said. “We’re moving this to your room. Dean, get that bra off of her first.”

His thick fingers made quick work of unhooking the clasps and removing the white cotton from my body. In a flash, I was lifted off the couch, saddled in Dean’s arms as he followed his brother to my room. Sam stood on one side of the bed, shrugging off his suit jacket and unraveling his tie. Dean stood with me opposite him, shooting his brother a look.

“Middle of the bed,” Sam directed.

Dean set me down gently, making sure my head was propped up on the pillows before getting to work on removing his own coat and tie. Sam was unbuttoning his shirt, strolling over to the foot of the bed while his eyes raked over my naked body.

“Knees up, legs open, Y/N,” Sam commanded, completely removing his shirt. “My turn to play with that pretty pussy.”

Despite how weak they felt, I managed to lift my knees. Keeping my feet flat against the mattress, I widened the space between them as much as I could.

Anyone outside looking in may have thought I was being demeaned, objectified, employed as nothing but a sexual plaything for two men to take advantage of. But I knew it meant I truly held the authority. By doing everything they wanted, they gave me everything I needed. I wasn’t being degraded, I was being worshipped.

And I loved every single, sinful second of it.

A shaky sigh floated from my throat as I watched a shirtless Sam Winchester begin to unfasten his belt. Even the slight flex of his muscles as he made his minimal movements set my every nerve ending afire. I kneaded one of my breasts, pinching my nipple as he pulled his belt off, feeling a flood of wetness gather in my core.

Sam shook his head, folding his belt in half, the buckle clinking. “Y/N, there's no need to touch yourself. That's what we're here for, isn't it Dean?”

“Got that right,” Dean muttered, sliding next to me. He was already undressed, his thick hard cock pressing against my hip.

Sam tapped the length of leather against his palm. “Unless you're an impatient little slut who can't get enough from the two of us?”

I let my hand fall to the side, brushing right against Dean’s erection. “No, Sir.”

“There’s our girl,” Dean murmured, replacing my hand with his, rolling the stiff, pink peak of my nipple between his thumb and finger. “We’ve got you.”

His words were muffled as he took my neglected breast into his mouth, every stroke of his tongue and little nip from his teeth pumping jolts of electricity through every vein in my body. He rocked against me, the warm precome dripping from his cock slicking my skin. I took hold of him, feeling him pulse in my hand as I stroked him slowly, drawing out quiet growls that vibrated against my breast.

The bed sank as Sam crawled on, kneeling, each of his hands running over my thighs. I let out a groan as I felt my own wetness trickle between my legs.

“Just came not five minutes ago and she’s dripping wet already,” Sam hummed. “I think we have our work cut out for us, Dean.” My grip on Dean’s cock tightened as Sam licked, kissed and nipped at the skin of my inner thighs, deliberately avoiding my aching, sodden core. I writhed against the mattress, my clit throbbing, begging for attention as small, desperate sounds tumbled from my lips.

I nearly screamed when Sam finally dipped his tongue inside of me, lapping up my juices at a maddeningly slow pace. The fingers of my free hand laced through his long hair, gripping the back of his head and pushing him against me.

“Oh, fuck, Sam, yes!” I shouted, not giving a shit if the entire hotel heard me.

Sam firmly wrapped his long fingers around my wrist and pulled away.

Dean released my breast from his mouth and turned my face toward his. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” he chided, low and wickedly. “You were being so good, why’d you gotta go and misbehave?”

“Dean, move. Now.” Sam commanded. This time he grasped broth of my wrists, sliding up my body until his nose was touching mine. “What did I tell you, princess? What did I say you call me?”

“Sir. I’m sorry Sir, please…” I whined, nearly languishing from the loss of Dean’s skin against mine, my body wound so tight and desperate for release that it was nearly painful. “Need you both so fucking bad…”

I was flipped over onto my stomach so fast the room spun. Sam delivered a firm slap to each cheek of my ass, the sting making my insides quiver as I let out a wanton wail.

“Do you like this, Y/N?” Sam growled, “because this is what happens to bad, greedy little whores when they forget the rules.”

“Yes, Sir...yes…” I mewled. Two more smacks and I bit my lip hard, afraid I might come any second.

“I don’t think you can control yourself. Your sweet little ass loves to be spanked, so you’ll probably keep misbehaving on purpose. Maybe tying those hands up will help you remember to be our good girl?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dean?”

“Got it.” Dean was grinning as he clutched one of their discarded ties. “Hands above your head, sweetheart. Better do it quick, Sammy’s got an itchy palm tonight - and he’s being gentle.”

He wrapped the sleek, cool silk around my wrists as Sam gently rubbed over my flesh that burned with the sweet bite of his strikes. Dean finished binding me with a durable knot, then grasped my shoulders right as Sam gripped my waist, both of them manhandling me into their desired position. I was laying across the bed now, Sam at my feet and Dean looming above me.

“Turn over, Y/N,” Sam ordered. I obeyed enthusiastically, rolling my body and instinctively spreading my legs. “She looks adorable like this, doesn’t she?”

“Good enough to eat,” Dean smirked, curling his thick tongue over his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance. I’m not done with her yet.”

Dean leaned over me, looping my arms over his head and brushing his upside-down lips against mine. “Such a fucking good girl for us,” he muttered, his voice deep and sabulous. He cupped both breasts in his hands, keeping his mouth a breath away from mine, breathing in my moans and sighs as Sam’s tongue licked a solid line from my entrance and flitted against my clit.

“Christ, you taste amazing, Y/N,” Sam praised. “So fucking sweet…” His lips latched on to my clit as he easily slid two of his thick yet agile fingers inside my cunt, prodding and exploring the deepest parts of me until my entire body jolted in pleasure.

“Oh fuck yes,” I groaned, fire beginning to churn in my abdomen from the vibration of Sam’s satisfied moans against my folds, from every brush of his fingers against my g-spot.

“Sammy find your sweet spot, baby girl?” Dean asked, tugging each of my nipples. “How’s it feel?”

“God, feels so fucking good...”

“You like how my brother plays with you? Bosses you around like a little fucktoy?”

“Love it, Dean…”

The tension was gathering too quickly, raw bliss surging through me, my legs beginning to tremble.

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve wanted this, Y/N? Wanted to kiss you, touch you, take care of you the way you should be?”

The waves of my climax were swelling, threatening to crest at the next word Dean uttered or the next flick of Sam’s tongue.

“Need to come...Sir, can I come for you?”

The warmth of Sam’s mouth left me as his movements slowed to just short of a stop.

“Look who’s being such a good girl now,” he grinned, his lips and chin glazed with my juices.

“Please, Sir…” I begged, knowing I sounded strung-out and pathetic, my body tensing with every ounce of self-control I had left.

“What do you think, Dean? Should we let her?”

“Fuck yeah, wanna see her pretty legs shaking, see her face this time when she comes…”

“And I want her to lose it with her mouth full...”

Dean stood up, tapping the tip of his cock against my lips, my tongue involuntarily snaking out to lick at the salty precome that dribbled out of his slit.

Sam’s fingers began to pick up momentum. “Since you won’t be able to talk, I’ll tell you now - you can come when you need to. You have my permission.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Dean traced the tip of his finger along my jawline. “Go ahead and take it, sweetheart.”

He was like velvet-wrapped iron, smooth and heavy against my tongue, stretching my lips with his girth. With my hands still tied, all he could do was fuck my mouth, sliding in until he hit the back of my throat. I let my tongue swirl around him as he pumped in and out, constantly moaning at the taste and feel and scent of him while Sam worked between my legs.

Dean held my head as he guided me along his cock, rewarding me with praises whenever I took him deep.

“Fuck Y/N you’re a pro at this...if your pussy’s even half as good as your mouth…”  

Sam slid in a third finger, beginning a steady, salacious attack on my g-spot. Almost instantly, I felt my walls tightening, the weight of an intense pressure threatening to shatter me from the inside out.

“Dean, she’s close. Play with her clit for me. Y/N, you keep his dick in your mouth like a good little whore.”

I screamed around Dean’s cock as the pad of his fingers pressed and circled my clit, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as a euphoria I’d never known overtook me.

Somewhere underneath Dean’s heavy breaths and the sound of his brother’s fingers slamming into my sodden cunt I heard Sam’s insistent coaxes.

“That’s our good girl...come on, Y/N, that’s it...let it go…”

Sobbing around Dean I exploded, feeling my slick splash against Sam’s hand, soaking my thighs and the sheets beneath me. Dean pulled out of my mouth with a harsh grunt, leaving my lips free to weave a litany of incoherent curses as I rode out my high. Sam kept working, drawing out my orgasm so long it felt like it was never going to stop. He slowed his movements as I finally drifted down, sliding his fingers out of me and into his mouth.

“Dean, come clean her up. She’s fucking delicious,” he beamed, laying down next to me and pulling me into a fervent kiss; it was thorough and passionate, all-consuming, brimming with purpose. I could taste myself, mingling with cinnamon-laced flavor of his tongue.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered between kisses, still shuddering with aftershocks, tingles crawling up my spine from the feel of Dean’s mouth lapping up the remnants of the best orgasm of my life. My eyes fell shut as I basked in Sam’s warmth radiating beside me and the tickle of his brother’s stubble brushing against my inner thighs.

“No sleeping, Y/N,” Sam murmured against my ear. “We’re not done yet.”

Dean hooked his arms under my thighs and plunged his tongue deep inside with a hungry moan.

“Not sleeping, Sir…” I panted, my breaths becoming quicker. “I...I... oh, fuck…” Dean was sending me on a direct trajectory towards another orgasm I didn’t think I could physically handle.

“What do you want, Y/N? Tell us.”

“Want Dean to fuck me, Sir. Want his cock in my pussy and yours in my mouth.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he hummed, tracing my ear with the tip of his nose. “Would you like me to untie your hands now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sam rose to his feet, nimble fingers loosening the knot around my wrist.

“I still expect you to behave…”

“I will, Sir, I promise.”

“Good girl. Dean? Wanna give her what she needs?”

Dean kissed his way over my mound, up my stomach and sternum, landing on my lips for only a quick second. He knelt between my legs, grasping himself in his hand and rubbing the head of his cock teasingly between my folds.

“You want this, baby girl?” he taunted, pressing the tip right against my entrance.

“Yes, Dean. God yes, please...need you inside me…”

“Need you too, Y/N,” he sighed, steadying himself as he pushed into me inch by inch, my walls stretching and pulsing as I took him all the way in. He hissed in pleasure once he was buried to the hilt and began to move, dragging almost all the way out before sliding back in again.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart... feel so goddamn good...”

Sam was on his knees next to me, pumping himself, ready to feed me his perfect cock.

“Sir, please let me taste you,” I said, wrapping my fingers around him and guiding him into my mouth. He was as thick and long and luscious as his brother and I greedily took in everything he had.

“Oh my god, Y/N... shit yes…” he moaned as I swallowed around him, flicking and sliding my tongue. Dean grabbed my leg and raised it against his chest, affording a new angle that allowed him to nail my sweet spot with every thrust.

“Fuck...still so tight and wet…” he grunted, his thrusts gaining momentum and force. “Not gonna last long.”

“Hear that, Y/N? Want Dean to fill you up and come inside that beautiful pussy?”

I released him from my mouth, still stroking him in my hand, my breaths coming quick and hard. “Yes, Sir...Dean, please, yes…” A cry escaped my lips as Dean’s thumb found my clit again, making my insides quake, another climax taking hold of me. “N-n-need to come again...Can I come, Sir?”

“You love all of this dick in you, don’t you?” Sam sneered. “Go ahead, little cockslut, but you let him come first.  And then, I’m going come in this pretty mouth of yours and you’re going to swallow every drop. Understood?”

Sam didn’t give me time to answer as he pushed past my lips again, his rhythm as fierce and insistent as Dean’s had become.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Dean growled. “Gonna come...gonna fucking come…”

Dean spilled into me with a shout, the wet, thick warmth triggering my own release, the vibration of my muffled scream pushing Sam to his own end. He grabbed my head in hands as he let out a carnal roar, hot spurts of his come filling my mouth.  Dean collapsed on top of me, his brother following suit but landing by my side as soon as I drank down everything he’d given me.

Dean rolled off and settled on my other side, the three of us in a sweaty, sticky tangle of weakened limbs and rapid breaths. Eventually, Sam hauled himself up and walked to the bathroom. I turned my head toward Dean, kissing him softly as we simply stared at one another, lost in the moment, the corners of our mouths curving in sleepy, gentle smiles while we traced nonsense patterns over each other’s skin.

Sam emerged with two warm washcloths, handing one to his brother. Then he kissed me tenderly, while both brothers cleaned me and themselves up as best they could. His sweet, gentle demeanor was back, his eyes now full of what I could only dare to call love.

“Did you...was that okay, Y/N?” he asked.

I giggled, lacing my fingers through his and Dean’s hands, “It was more than okay. It was fucking mind-blowing.”

Sam let out what seemed like a breath of relief, pulling me against his chest. I nestled into that curve I knew I’d fit so well in, while Dean pressed into my front. “Glad we could deliver, sweetheart.”

“Hey guys, listen... I hate to go all chick-flick on you, but -”

“You’re wondering what happens now,” Sam offered, reading my mind. “If this was just a onetime thing.”

I nodded, slightly afraid of the response I was going to get.

“Y/N,” Dean started, “When I said you had no idea how long me and Sam wanted this...I wasn’t lying. We’ve both been in love with you since the day we saved your sexy ass.”

“This life is hard,” Sam added. “It’s dangerous and bloody and we never know if the day we wake up is going to be our last. We never thought you’d go for it, but maybe it could work...I mean if you feel the same…we’d love it if you were ours.”

“Well, son of a bitch,” I laughed.

“What?” both brothers asked in unison.

“My first time to Vegas and I hit the fucking jackpot.”

~Fin

*Master List*      *Tags are Open!*

Tagging: 

@alangel1895

@andkatiethings

@anime-music-is-life

@apeshit7x

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#sam x reader x dean #dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut #eileen's 1k make it dirty gif challenge #spn smut

[global-awareness-by-angie-blog]

Zombie Deer Disease

A deadly disease is spreading among elk, deer. Moose and reindeer. in the United States. The infection is known as a chronic wasting disease also known as mad cow disease. Deers are dying because the disease destroys the animal’s nervous system. In addition, scientists concern is that the infection could make its way to humans. Also, it could be transmitted to people who eat these kinds of animals. But studies have shown that people who have eaten deer have not been contaminated yet.

Countries that have reported the disease include:

Arkansas, Colorado, Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, North Dakota, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

The map above indicates the countries that have reported chronic wasting disease as of January 2019.

2) How does it transmit to other animals?

The chronic wasting disease passes through prion. The word prion derives from a proteinaceous infectious particle. Prions are misfolded proteins that cause other proteins to misfold around them. Therefore certain species are harmed by different prion diseases and in a herd about half of the animals carry prions. Not only is prion transmitted directly but also through plants and soil.

3) Symptoms of the disease?

The deers that are infected live up to two years for them to start seeing signs of symptoms from the disease. The symptoms of the disease include: vacant stare, thick saliva, exposed ribs, or drooping heads, becoming visible.

4) Prevention

Hunters should not handle, shoot and eat meat from deer, reindeer, and moose that might look sick or found dead in order to prevent exposure to chronic wasting disease. If you are going to handle the meat be sure to wear gloves and make sure to minimize the number of organs you handle in the animal such as brain and spinal cord tissue. Prevent using household knives and utensils when in contact with the meat. In addition, make sure to have the deer tested for chronic wasting disease before eating it. If it turns out to be positive do not consider eating the meat.

Citation:

https://www.health.com/condition/infectious-diseases/zombie-deer-chronic-wasting

https://www.ajc.com/news/national/scientists-worry-brain-wasting-zombie-deer-disease-could-spread-humans/rjpiryXSOn92IxD9qVx1ZL/

https://www.cdc.gov/prions/cwd/index.html

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/health/2019/02/21/zombie-deer-disease-what-happened-people-ate-cwd-meat/2926840002/

https://www.delish.com/food-news/a26551420/zombie-deer-cdc-warning/

https://www.vox.com/2019/2/21/18233227/zombie-deer-disease-map

[karateficrec]

Hey everyone!

Wow, I don’t even know when is the last time I wrote an ACTUAL post, not just a repost of something else.

You may have noticed that after rather regular posting, I dropped off the face of the Tumblr--on this blog, at least, if not my main one.

So the reason is because last February I started an accelerated Masters program in teacher leadership!  Yaaay!!! So, while I’ve been out in the Tumble-wilds reading fanfic, I simply just haven’t had the time or energy to keep this blog up, except for the occasional post here or there.  

BUT!  GREAT NEWS!!

I will finish my last two classes on Sunday, May 10th (which also happens to be my birthday, if you want to send me pie I’ll be happy to dm you my address.  LOL)

Soooo...on my list of “things I haven’t had time to do because I’ve been too busy writing 5-7 page papers in APA (the devil’s writing style)” is to return to providing you with a fabulous list of (mostly Spn) fics ofall the ships and their corresponding moose warning!  

WooT!

Here’s a link to the official “moose rating system” in case you are new (yay, welcome!) or have forgotten (scandalous, but it has been over a year, so I’ll forgive you!)

While we are waiting for May 10th to come, there are a bunch of bangs that are putting out previews to some TOTALLY AWESOME stories, so as I come across them, I’ll post them, and then we’ll be back full swing with recommendations with full moose warnings starting May 11th!  Can’t wait!

#karate fic rec #fic recs back alright #moose warning system #minimal moose warning #minor moose warning #medium moose warning #major moose warning #massive moose warning #coming to a Tumblr near you #May 11 2020

[thestoryofme13]

Saving Me

Prequel to Saving Me: The Spiral

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

This chapter is really dark

Warning: self-harm (Freezing water and cutting), intrusive thoughts, panic attack, trouble breathing, uselessness, hopelessness, suicide, thinking of death, minimal blood, anxiety, crying, failure, body image

A/N: This is my attempt at an AU, but please look out for the warnings before each chapter, this is going to be triggering and I am going to do my best to tag all of them but I will need your help to make sure I don’t miss anything. I want you as readers to be safe. This was inspired by @ilovemygaydad and their fic Friends in Dark Places, which I highly recommend, you can see the all the chapter links and my thoughts on the story as a whole here.

It had been two weeks since the first post-it note. Every day it would be something new but always written on the electric blue paper. So far Virgil’s favorites were “PUPPIES,” “BOYS,” the day after boys he got one that said, “GIRLS,” then the following day he got, “Or whoever you’re attracted to or no one at all!” These notes while very cute and silly, helped a lot. Virgil had started a collection of notes on the inside of his closet door and anytime he felt like self-harming he would look at the notes. Sometimes this worked and other times on particularly bad days, it didn’t work, and he would slam the door closed. At least with the door closed he wouldn’t feel like such a failure. Virgil knew that whoever was writing him these notes would be disappointed anytime he relapsed so anytime he did, the closet door would have to be closed, “out of sight out of mind,” right?

There was one particularly bad day, nothing really stood out to make it worse, but it was probably the worse he has ever gotten. Virgil had started to count on those post-it notes, they were his lifeline, obviously, he knew that was stupid and that he couldn’t count on them forever, but it was all he had for now. Then one day a note didn’t show up, he figured the writer, had finally given up on their project and decided that Virgil was a lost cause. He would have to agree with that, if he was holding onto sticky notes from stranger to get him through life then maybe he was a lost cause.

That day when he got back home after not receiving a note, no amount of looking at the wall of sticky notes, was curbing his urge. He finally gave in and went to go take a shower. He had told his mom that the cold water was being fickle after the first time he was unable to get the temperature he wanted, she had called a plumber and they took care of it. While the freezing cold water worked in his shower, today it did nothing for him in helping to quiet his mind, no amount of time under the water that pricked him like needles was helping. Once he figured out that his usual tactic would not work, he stepped out only after about 30 minutes under the freezing water.

Usually, the freezing water turning off his brain would give him energy, but this shower seemed to do the opposite. Upon exiting the shower Virgil was completely drained, he opted for sitting on the floor in his towel, much to his intrusive thought’s delight there were nail clippers within an arm’s reach. Virgil grabbed the nail clippers, his heart rate steadily increasing, his breathing becoming more ragged, his hands shaking, every part of his mind and body giving him signs that he should stop but his intrusive thoughts were “louder.” Without even thinking about it he moved his fingers so that the metal nail file connected to the nail clippers was exposed, his mind was beyond reason. Auto-piolet had kicked in, it felt like someone else was in charge of his movements, as he moved the towel up to expose his thigh.

All the words that Virgil could think of that made sense to carve into his porcelain skin were too long, “useless.” “worthless,” and “hopeless,” all of these words while very fitting were compromised of too many letters. Virgil also knew his pain tolerance was very low, so maybe just one letter for each time he failed. The tip of the nail file was dull, which meant he would have to apply more pressure, but if this would stop his thoughts and dull his pain for even just a moment, then it was worth it.

Slowly, his hands shaking from adrenaline or maybe anxiety, but eventually, the dull tip made contact with his pale thigh. The tears fell silently from his face whether it was from fear or possibly regret, even Virgil couldn’t tell. His breathing hitched at the exposure to the cold point of the metal. He hesitated for a second as the tip of the file made contact with his skin, but without overthinking his action he forcefully pushed down and began to carve a “u,” once he finished that letter he could barely breathe. The breathes were coming in rapid and short, not quite filling his lungs, or giving his brain enough oxygen.

The carving didn’t draw much blood, it hurt and would likely scar but luckily for Virgil the blood was minimal, or at least a lot less than he thought. Somehow the intrusive thoughts that had urged Virgil to this display, had forgotten the fact that the sight of blood, made him dizzy. His shortness of breath combined with the minimal amount of blood, caused black spots to form at the edges of his vision. Virgil dropped the nail clippers and placed both hands palm down on the cold tile floor hoping that it would ground him and bring him back to reality.

He knew that he should place his head between his knees, but he could not bring himself to be in that close of proximity to his failure. Failure was a good way to describe this new mark. He had failed the person who gave him notes because obviously, they were under the misguided impression that Virgil was somehow worth the space he took up. He failed his mother, by not living up to her expectations and if she ever knew, she would likely be more disappointed than worried. He was her only child, and he was meant to be this perfect child but no he was just a fuck up. Virgil guessed he had also failed himself in a way. He was supposed to be taking care of these feelings he had but no he couldn’t deal with them, so he found ways to escape just like the coward he was.

Those sticky notes in his closet seemed to mock him as if to say “haha, knew you couldn’t do it.” What was the point in having reasons to live when he would disregard them in search of relief from his? From his place on the floor, Virgil silently cursed the sticky notes, it was their fault, he was like this! The notes had such high expectations, they were suffocating him. Those damned notes were asking too much of him, they wanted him to stay alive! He wasn’t even sure he wanted to die! All he wanted was for his life to go back to normal. He wanted his best friend and confidant back, the loneliness was starting to get to him. While Virgil knew there was no good reason to self-harm he knew damn well that a lack of a person in his life was not a good enough reason. Virgil couldn’t help it though, he needed this escape, probably more than anyone would ever understand.

The series of events and emotions masked the pain and the hell that his life had been, even the panic that he felt now was a much-needed break from the thoughts. Through the panic was a nagging voice that urged Virgil to take care of his new failure. While he wanted to be numb and stop thinking, he didn’t see any reason that it should have to get infected.

He had to be rational, he had to take care of himself. He could not give in to the part of him that said to give up. He may have made some bad choices but he wasn’t ready to die, not yet! Although the part of him that said, “give up,” was much louder than the part of him that said, “continue on.” Even though everything sucked right now and his life had pretty much always sucked, he wanted to live, right?

Tag list: @fandomsandanythingelse@justanotherpurplebutterfly @nyxwordsmith @michealawithana @fanfictionsideaccount@bubblycricket @moose-1967  @electricdaisycat @sanders-sides-fic-archive

#myfics #savingme #tw anxiety #tw self harm #prequel #sanders sides #virgil sanders #tw intrusive thoughts #tw panic attack #tw trouble breathing #tw uselessness #tw hopelessness #tw blood #tw body image #tw crying #tw suicide

[landforsale334]

Bozeman Ranches

Ranches Close To Bozeman

Bozeman Ranches For Sale

Furbearers, such as marten and also wolverine, are additionally fairly numerous in this area. Area One is most definitely the best part of the state for searching bear, hill lion, as well as wolf. While the area comprises concerning 10 percent of all Montana land, it represents about 40 percent of the black bear, hill lion, and also wolf harvested, every year. Furthermore, Region One make up about 20 percent of the whitetail deer collected throughout hunting season. A variety of superb searching overview solutions are available in our location. We detailed a couple, below. If you have inquiries concerning hunting chances near the Superior, Montana location, really feel complimentary to call us.

High prices of chronic losing disease around the Ruby Valley have actually motivated authorities to increase the killing of white-tailed deer in nine searching areas across southwest Montana. Brian Wakeling, game administration bureau chief for Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks, said at a digital Montana Fish and Wild animals Payment meeting Thursday that the occurrence of CWD in whitetails this year surpassed 40% in some locations around the Ruby Valley. The disease was first detected in the valley in 2019."These deer are adjoining with white-tailed deer as well as moose throughout the Ruby Jefferson, Beaverhead as well as Big Hole valleys," officials created.

15 to Feb. 15 in nine hunting districts. Wakeling stated the hunt is "on the most aggressive end of options for targeted removal."Officials wish the hunt will lower white-tailed deer densities in areas where the illness prevails, minimizing the chances that mule deer, elk and moose will contract it. Hunters with extra 2020 general deer licenses for white-tailed deer of either sexes can still harvest pets in nine searching districts around Dillon, Ennis, Sheridan and Butte throughout the administration hunt. Seekers with extra 003-00, 331-01 as well as 399-00 B-licenses can also participate. The extensive season will put on all or portions of searching districts 320, 322, 324, 325, 326, 329, 330, 331, and also 340.

Ranches For Sale In Bozeman

That permit will be offered up until Jan. 15, 2021. Commissioner Rub Byorth claimed removing even more whitetails to conserve more whitetails seems sort of paradoxical, "yet ultimately, it's to maintain whitetails on the ground and decrease the damage to various other ungulate species."CWD is an always-fatal condition that targets the nerve systems of deer, elk and also moose. Animals spread out the condition via direct contact. People have not been recognized to get CWD, though officials warn against consuming meat from pets with the disease. Because Montana's first situation in 2017, CWD has made its method throughout the state. It's caused ungulate populaces to decline in some areas.

[kdfrqqg]

French Perfume Part 2

Crowley X Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: Female reader receives a package from an admirer.

Warnings: language

Catch up: French Perfume Series

Team Free Will POV

“What the hell is she thinking?” Dean yelled. No one else in the whole bar had noticed that two people had just poofed off the dance floor. Sam pulled out his phone and read (Y/N)’s text message. “I don’t like it either but it looks like she’s made up her mind.” Dean is frantically trying to call (Y/N) but the phone is going to only to voicemail. “Guys, I have to tell you something. We should leave.” Cas ordered.

Back in the Impala, “What do you need to tell us?” Dean asked frustrated. “I have known for awhile that (Y/N) is special.” Cas explained. “Yeah, of course she’s special, Cas. But special how?” Sam asked. “She is a creature/human hybrid but I didn’t know what kind of creature she was mixed with until I saw her use her powers on Crowley when she started to dance with him. She is a Siphon hybrid.” “Cas, what the hell, man? We’ve been living with her for two years now. Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean argued. “I didn’t believe her to be dangerous. Most hybrids have no idea what they are and I didn’t want to make her feel inadequate. There are thousands of hybrids in the world. They are more human than creature and Siphons are not harmful to humans.” Cas justified. “What exactly can she do?” Sam asked. “A full blooded siphon is very powerful and can become a god if left unchecked; most have been hunted down by angels or demons over the years. She can siphon off the power of any being with magic. Siphons were used to weaken Lucifer so that God could get him in the cage. Her powers are minimal. She will require to be in physical contact with someone to absorb their powers. One would assume that a great grandparent was the Siphon.” Cas explained in greater detail. “Do you think that Crowley knows and that’s why he’s pursuing her?” Dean questioned. “If Crowley knew, he would stay as far away from her as possible. Her powers can kill him or me. He probably thinks he’s falling in love with her because she makes him feel weak.” “I am calling her again.” Dean huffed. “I wouldn’t worry about her she can handle herself.” Cas stated. “Dean, this may work to our advantage. She could kill Crowley for us and he doesn’t even know what’s coming.” Sam addressed. “What kind of physical contact does she need to make to kill?” Dean asked “Intercourse with (Y/N) could kill him, especially if she doesn’t know she is siphoning his powers.” Cas indicated. “Damn, that’s some fatal attraction shit right there. You don’t think she would go through with it do you?” Dean said. “The call of power is strong, Dean.” Cas told him. “I still think we should warn them because if (Y/N/N) kills Crowley, she may never get over that. She likes the guy and her ‘Rouge'ing his ass is probably not how she wants her first date with him to end.” Dean stated.

Reader’s POV Crowley had transported you and him right outside a nice restaurant. You looked at your phone that was beeping and ringing off the hook. “You may want to get that, Love.” He told you. You send a group text to the boys, that you were fine and not to worry and then turned off your phone. All of a sudden, you were self conscious looking at your ratty black flats and cotton dress, it made you feel out of place. Crowley saw your distress on your face, “You look beautiful.” He placed his hand around the back of your neck pulled you into a kiss. You felt the spark, the energy coming off of him. It was electric and you only wanted more. You pressed yourself against him as your tongues danced with each other. “Shall we?” He asked a little weakly now pulling away from your embrace. “We shall.” You giggled looking down. A table was waiting; you could only assume Crowley had set this up in advance knowing you would want to ditch the boys. “Do you like seafood?” You nodded looking at the menu, “They have wonderful seafood here.” Crowley pointed out to you. The waiter came over, “Love, do you like a dry wine or sweet wine?” “I don’t really drink wine. I would love a beer, whatever is on tap.” The waiter looked at you a little confused. “If the lady wants a beer, please get her a beer.” Crowley reiterated. The waiter left the table to get your drinks, when Crowley’s phone started to buzz. “I do apologize.” He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, looked at the number ‘not moose’ showed on the screen. He showed it to you, “They must be desperate, if they are calling me, should I take this?” “Please let me handle them” you said asking for the phone. “Crowley,” you cut off Dean. “Dean, I promise I am fine; we’re just at dinner now.” “(Y/N) you don’t understand, don’t sleep with him.” You looked directly at Crowley and grinned, “Your confidence in me is overwhelming so thanks but I wasn’t planning on that tonight. I am not that kinda girl, at least not on the first date.” “Oh ok good! Is he treating you well?” Dean asked “Yes, Dean very well. We just ordered drinks. I would like to get back to my date.” you blushed. Dean just couldn’t tell her so he hung up. He knew that he should but she seemed happy and she wasn’t going to sleep with Crowley tonight so things should be ok for the evening. “So you ok, Love?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” you waived him off. “If you want to go home please just say the word. You and I have done more than I ever thought would happen. I’m happy leaving things the way they are.“ “No, Crowley, sweetheart, I want to be here.” You insisted, “So the seafood you say. I love scallops!” your eyes brightened. Crowley grinned knowing that there may not be anymore interruptions. You ordered the garlic lemon scallops with fettuccine and he ordered a steak. You talked for hours about his life as a human, being the King of Hell, and how you became a hunter. Finally the waiter came over and had to remind you of the time and that they closed thirty minutes ago. You both left the restaurant and took a short walk, “I had a lovely time. Maybe next time the boys won’t bug us so much.” You insinuated, kissing him again. His lips were delicious and they tasted floral probably from the wine he ordered. “You think they will let you out again after tonight?” “You know I can handle the boys” He drew you into another warm kiss, while he popped you back to the war room. “I am going to have to get used to this.” You giggled feeling a little light headed.

I love all the likes and reblogs but I really do want your feedback. Please leave me a comment; let me know what worked or what didn’t. If you hated it let me know what I could do different. It may determine how I write my next fic.

“Give it to me! You know you want to!” Writer winks at reader.

MY MASTER LIST Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven

@bandobsession98 @greenappleeyes @honeybeetrash @chaos-and-the-calm67 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @xdifsx @jensen-jarpad

#my writing #crowley #crowley x reader #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #team free will #cas #castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #french perfume series

[breakingnewsalert1]

Tips for Staying Safe on the Hiking Trails

Staying safe on the trails comes down to minimizing threats through preparation, avoidance and defense if necessary. (Photo: Sean Curtis)

Enjoying the great outdoors is one of the best summertime activities with these soul-feeding trips helping us reconnect with nature while leaving behind the digital world. While most sojourns are rather safe ventures, it’s always best to err on the side of caution with a little preparation.

As a deputy sheriff in the mountains of southwest Colorado for 15 years, I’ve coordinated search and rescue efforts for one of the busiest counties in the state. I’ve witnessed amazing tales of survival and seen hauntingly fatal mistakes. With decades of outdoor recreation, search and rescue, and law enforcement experience I’ve got a few tips to ready you for risks on the trails.

Trailhead Security

One of the most prolific threats you’ll face on your trip is thieves. You’ll likely never see them, but the things you do before your trip will have a direct effect on how this particular encounter pans out. There’s nothing like coming back from a long trip to your ravaged vehicle, especially when you don’t have cellphone service to call the police.

If you’re leaving a vehicle at the trailhead for a while, prepare for it. They will likely move on to better targets. Secure any valuables you aren’t carrying with you – like electronics, firearms, and information such as IDs, insurance, and other paperwork that can be used for identity theft — at home. Keep the interior of the vehicle clean to show perspective thieves there is nothing worthy of stealing inside. Also, consider removing identifying stickers and magnets from the vehicle’s exterior. That Magpul sticker might intimidate someone in traffic, but when you’re 10-miles up the trail, it’s an encouragement to burglars on the prowl for guns. The same goes with military affiliations, NRA stickers and the like.

Here’s a great example of a well-travelled trailhead parking lot that will serve as a deterrent to thieves during the day. (Photo: Sean Curtis)

Depending on the length of the hike, cars could be parked at the trailhead for days at a time. Alternatively, shorter trips, or those popular with day hikers, are likely a bit safer with the frequency of people coming and going curtailing at least some thievery. Park in areas that leave good visibility and offer plenty of foot traffic for the best defense against thieves.

Trail Threats

The majority of threats you’ll face in the wild are two-legged, not four, but animal attacks do happen. I’ve spent many an hour hiking in the mountains of Colorado and have come across plenty of deer, elk, moose, badgers, skunks and black bears. Most often these critters are more frightened of you than you are of them and will usually run from people rapidly. There are exceptions though.

Before hitting the trails, take some time and learn about the wildlife in the area. In particular, learn about animals’ warning signs and how best to proceed if they become threatening. Be a student of the animals in your region so you know if you are truly being threatened or can slip away without engaging.

Mountain lions are ambush predators, wise hikers remember to look up in the big cat’s habitat. (Photo: Sean Curtis)

Know your rules of engagement. You cannot shoot an animal because it’s in your vicinity, it has to be a clear threat. Work to get around the animal without risking an encounter in which no one wins. Be aware that animals with young are more protective so it is best to give them a wide berth. This applies to grass and meat eaters.

Consider that people may also pose a threat on the trail. Some of the best cures for sketchy people on the trail also apply to wildlife. Hike in numbers — if you take a few people with you on your trip, chances are, you won’t have too many issues. Predators of two and four-legged variety still measure risks versus rewards. If your party is too large to risk an encounter, they will pass by.

Safety Planning

What are you going to do should you encounter a threat? Deal with threats in this order: mitigate, avoid, defend. Some issues you should be able to mitigate. Clear out your vehicle, leave no tell-tale markers for thieves, hike in numbers and give a friend or family member a detailed itinerary of your hike. Make sure to include relevant information about where you’re hiking and when you’ll be back.

Next, consider avoidance as your next best step for dealing with dangerous encounters. I would much rather walk a long way around a bear and cubs than have to either a) run for my life or b) orphan the cubs. The same goes if you see a drunken party raging alongside a bonfire.

Lastly, we come to the final resort – defense. Know your local laws, as you are responsible for understanding the ordinances that govern your area. In most areas, you cannot shoot an animal simply because it is on the trail or in the way. That being said, you should be prepared to defend your life and the lives of those with you on the trail should the need arise. For many, this means taking a firearm on the trail.

Hiking with a Gun

With a practiced draw from the Recon Kit Bag from Hill People Gear, you can get out and on target in seconds without telegraphing your concealed carry. (Photo: Sean Curtis)

To determine the best gun for the hike, there are a few considerations to mull over. Factors that must go into gun selection for the trail include weight, capacity and caliber. When choosing caliber, consider the biggest animal you might encounter during your trip and if it will be a threat in any way. I lean toward bigger calibers, like 10mm, for larger animals, but you should always choose a caliber you feel comfortable shooting.

The other thing to consider is method of carry. A decent hiking pack with padded belt often precludes the mounting of a firearm on the belt. Sticking a gun in the pack removes access and when you need a gun on the trail, the situation rarely affords time to unsling your pack and dig around.

A good solution is to choose gear specifically made for hikers and campers. Hill People Gear, for example, was founded by folks who love guns and hiking and create packs and chest rigs for those that also love the great outdoors. Their Recon chest rig is one of my favorite solutions for carrying with a backpack. This bag straps to the chest and has a couple of slots for critical gear like mini survival kits. Inside the main compartment, a pistol can be staged for drawing either left or right. It presents as yet another bag so as not to alarm other hikers but can be accessed quickly should the need arise.

The Henry H024, chambered in .38-55, is a side-loader brush gun that should stop nearly anything. (Photo: Sean Curtis)

Finally, if you are hiking in an area where really large animals are a likely threat, you may want to consider a brush gun. The term is somewhat generic and can apply to a few types of rifles, though some characteristics are common: they are often shorter for carrying and maneuverability, and higher in caliber. One of the classic configurations is a lever-action rifle which allows you to fire quickly in case a dangerous animal is charging you. A rifle like this is definitely going to keep you safe from most things in North America, though they are heavier and a bit more difficult to carry, often over a shoulder with a sling.

Getting home safe

Starting out at the trailhead you can set yourself up for a successful trip. Leave anything of value at home or plan on taking it with you. Park in well-traveled areas and don’t leave any clues to your fondness for the Second Amendment. Mitigate issues by planning in advance. Tell someone your route and when to call for help. Avoid confrontations when possible, human or wildlife, and if you have to engage, defend yourself with a strong knowledge of area laws using a handgun or rifle you can accurately and safely shoot.

I’m not preaching gloom and doom. Chances are, if you prepare, you’ll never need most of these precautions. Woe be to the hiker who doesn’t heed precautions though.

The post Tips for Staying Safe on the Hiking Trails appeared first on Guns.com.

from Guns.com http://bit.ly/2LcGLT3 from Blogger http://bit.ly/2KBPj6o

#guns

[durenjtmusings]

   Words: 13367 Fandom: Supernatural, Emperor's New Groove (2000) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Shameless Crack Spoof - I own nothing Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Crowley (Supernatural), Rowena MacLeod, Castiel (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Crack, Disney spoof, SPN spoof, Sam as comic relief, Pregnant Dean, Medieval Fantasy AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Reindeer, Animal Transformation, King Crowley, Scheming Rowena, Squirrel conversations, implied Moose and Squirrel puns, Crowley redemption arc, Rowena gets hers, Cats

Summary: What happens when an SPN fan, recently traumatized by the season 12 finale, is trapped in a car for a week with a 9 yr old who plays their ‘The Emperor’s New Groove’ DVD on endless repeat without headphones? This happens.

Shameless crack. Minimal writing – more like lightly creative editing for comedic effect. With an amazingly thin a/b/o backstory so Dean can be pregnant and Sam can be the comic relief. I own nothing – please don’t let Disney know. If this story vanishes off Ao3 you’ll know why – call my lawyer to rescue me.

Tagging @awed-frog  @thayerkerbasy  @arvit  and @destielette because of their recent reblogging of the rainbow vomit vs. SPN Season 12 finale feelings post.  This is how I tried to cope - by making these three the “stars” of the film. Hope it cheers you as well. [I’d tag @chiisana-sukima too, but she’s already read it as my Beta!]

#spn 12.23 feelings fit-it #sort of #spn crack #disney spoof #abo dynamics #spn spoof #crowley #djtmusings fic #rowena #spn fanfic #spn/disney #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer

[cajunquandary]

About Bar Fights and Moobs

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader

Wordcount: 1100

Warnings: Drinking, bar fight, WinCHESTers (yes their chests are a warning)

Summary: The reader is at a dive bar drinking and complaining about men and relationships along with another woman who she just met when a random fight erupts the entire bar into a war zone. Que Winchesters.

A/N: I wrote this for @iwantthedean’s Two Prompt Challenge. My prompt was “Listen here, Chisel Chest, okay, we were here first.” While I tend to write mostly about Dean or Benny, Sam kinda spoke to me on this one. It’s Sammy central but fear not—there’s plenty of sassy Dean to go around! ((And if anyone doesn’t know? Moobs=Man Boobs and no I’m not even sorry.))

 “I just don’t understand, Alicia. It was Alicia, right?”

“Actually it’s Alex—“

“Anyway, he’s so frustrating! I’m glad it’s over but honestly I’m still raging. How dare he thinks he can talk to people like that? And don’t even get me started about the lying and money.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Mine did the same thing, but it was always MY fault. Everything was.”

You downed your shot while only half listening to Alicia. No, Alexa or something. Whatever. Neither of you would remember come morning. You both just got dumped and had come out to let off a little steam, and it was working so far. Kind of. Why did they call it an angel shot anyway? The mixed liquor was mostly a beige color with the thinnest line of blue on top. Honestly, it reminded you of a trench coat and there’s not much angelic about that.

Before you could ponder about the strange drink menu, a chair flew behind you, a couple of ragged bikers starting to fight. In no time at all, every patron in the building was involved. Chairs, tables, plates and fists flew—had you just stepped into a bad cartoon? A beer bottle grazing your scalp drew you back to the chaotic reality. “Shit!”

You hopped onto the bar top quickly, sliding down to the other side to take cover. Alicia—no, Alex something—flopped with an umph next to you, her drink still in hand. She held it up and panted lightly, “Priorities.” She gulped the remainder in record time.

“OW!” Had a moose just landed on you? For God’s sake!! For a moment you wondered if there was anywhere safe. You tried to protest but the hefty man’s rear was pressing on your lungs, his head somewhere by your sprawled out feet. Poor thing landed upside down, he twisted trying to right himself, but only caused more pressure on you. Stars gathered at the edge of your vision before he succeeded. Once free, he got up on his knees, chest poking out as he stole a glance over the countertop.

“Listen here, Chisel Chest,” You croaked, voice finally coming back. “Okay, we were here first. And where the hell is your shirt?! You’re going to poke someone’s eye out!”

The beast of a man stooped back down to look you in the eye, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but all you could focus on were the hazel of his gentle, concerned eyes, his dimples as his mouth pressed into a hard, irritated line, and the was his long hair fell haphazardly in his face. Your eyes travelled down past his moving mouth, though you couldn’t hear the words falling from those soft lips in your daze.

There was a little blood on his neck, on the thin membrane bouncing over his Adams apple. You licked your lips. There was a bruise forming just under his collarbone, and a circle of red from where someone punched him in the stomach. You could gaze at such a work of art for all eternity and call it heaven. Maybe that angel shot worked after all!

The man outstretched a hand to you. “Come with me, I’ll protect you.”

You found your voice, pushing it past the lump in your throat. “I don’t need protection, especially not from a male model. Are those even real?” Slightly drunk you was notoriously a little handsy, and with abandon you reached out and grasped his firm pectorals, one in each hand. “Oh,” You murmured. “Those are definitely real.”

The din seemed to have died down, but you were unable to move, mortified now with the situation. The man stared back at you in equal surprise.

“Uhh, Sammy?” You both turned to the newcomer—a tall, equally gorgeous man whose arms crossed over his own bare chest, shoulders and knuckles spattered with blood that was clearly not his own as he looked on in smug amusement. “Am I… interrupting?”

You jerked your misbehaving arms to your torso, face burning red. Sammy leaned back and sighed in annoyance. “This was your fault. If you’d just kept your mouth shut, I really didn’t need the chair. We were leaving anyway. But noo, Dean, you just had to square off.”

Dean set his hands on his hips defiantly, nearly giving you a heart attack as more freckle-dusted skin pulled taught over hard muscles, gently loosening around the belly. “Well excuse me bitch for standing up for my baby bro.”

Seriously? The bigger one was the baby brother?

“You owe me a new shirt. And what happened to yours?”

Dean stepped back, appalled at the question. “It’s my favorite Led Zep shirt. Dad bought it for me when I was in my twenties. No way I’m screwing it up in a bar fight!”

Exasperated, Sam tossed his hands in the air and moved to stand, holding out a hand to you once again.

You shrugged it away and stood on your own. “I don’t need help from a couple of male-modeling sons of bitches; I can take care of myself, thanks.”

Dean retrieved his shirt from the beer well. “You heard her, Sammy. She can take care of herself.”

You turned towards Alexcia or whoever when sirens of the coming police armada grew close, ready to bolt but knowing there was no getting away. She was long gone already.

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder and you tensed under the warmth. “Come one, we can get you out of here. Please? To say sorry for ruining your night? And falling on you?”

“Ugh! Fine. What did you have in mind?” You turned, eyes rolling just in time to catch a glimpse of something silver in his hands. “Handcuffs, seriously? Right now isn’t the time to be getting kinky, sir.” In his other hand, an FBI badge rested. “Oh.”

Remarkably quickly, you were cuffed in the back of the Impala and riding away from the chaos of the scene, and even with minimal snickers from the local police in the case of Sam’s half nudity. You knew in that moment, while gazing at the brothers in the front seat, that no matter what the road ahead held, you were glad that these strangers were taking you there. Sam looked back at you and you flashed a toothy grin. Yeah, the night hadn’t ended so badly after all.

Dean rolled his eyes in the rear view. “Can you two wait to continue your weird grabby things until we get to the motel? And get your own damn room.”

(Bonus, just cuz. Shirtless Dean:)

Tag List:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56

#iwantthedean's two prompt challenge #chris writes things #sam x reader #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert #sassy reader #just funny #no fluff #no angst #not really #mostly just shirtless winchester #im shameless