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Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 4

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

3.6k word count

Summary A break in the case happens and you question if you want to be around the Winchesters anymore.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, slow-burn

Warnings mention and description of death

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

We wrapped up breakfast with my mum, and while Sam and Dean handled the dishes, I hurried the guys out the door to fetch the Impala before my mum could offer them anything else. As usual, she was all smiles and charm in front of others, and it took everything I had not to snap. Once we had our bags, we set off towards the car yard, hoping this time we'd finally get the Impala back.

The boys chatted ahead of me, oblivious to my inner turmoil. They sensed something was off but knew better than to pry. I had already made up my mind: I’d help them finish this case, then dive into the next one. I planned to start my research as soon as I had some alone time. I figured we’d wrap this case up in a couple of days, and I already had a strategy for digging into the next one.

At the car yard, Dean darted off to find the Impala. It took him far less time than it had taken Sam to retrieve the car earlier. Dean and Sam began stowing their weapons and gear in the truck. I tossed my suitcase onto the back seat and climbed in to wait. As I did, I spotted a t-shirt on the floor. Curious, I picked it up. It looked like one of Dean’s shirts. I brought it to my nose, confirming it was his. Before I could stop myself, I unzipped my bag and stuffed the shirt inside, quickly zipping it back up. The truck’s cab shielded me from view, so neither brother saw what I’d done.

I had no idea why I took Dean’s shirt. It wasn’t like having something of his would help me get over him—in fact, it might make things worse. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I deserved it. After everything he’d done, I felt entitled to something of his. He’d never miss it, and it was unlikely he’d even notice it was gone. No harm done, right?

The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and Sam and Dean climbed into the car. We drove the 40 minutes back to the hotel. When we pulled up, I grabbed my bag and made a beeline for my Impala. I had the keys, so there was no need to go into the hotel room. Tossing my suitcase onto the driver’s seat, I slid into the driver’s side just as Dean stopped at the room door and looked at me.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked.

“Research,” I replied curtly, revving the engine and speeding out of the parking lot.

I headed straight for the library. I needed to investigate the deaths at the pool without the distraction of the Winchesters. I parked my Impala in the library lot, grabbed my research notebook, and headed inside. The library was already bustling, and I had to wait in line at the reception desk for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably closer to 20 minutes.

When it was finally my turn, I plastered on a bright smile and used my sweetest voice.

“Hi, I’d like to book a computer and access any information you have on the Blacktown pool,” I said.

“Can I ask why?” the receptionist inquired.

“I’m working on a paper about places that seem to have persistent bad luck and exploring why some places fare worse than others.”

“That’s an interesting topic. Are there any other locations you’re interested in?”

“No, just the pool, thank you.”

“Alright, here are the login details for one of our computer cubicles. I’ll have someone bring you the rest shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the paper with a smile.

I walked to the designated cubicle, sat down, and entered the login details. A timer appeared on the screen, indicating I had one hour of computer time before I’d need to log in again.

Determined not to waste any time, I dove into researching the deaths at the pool. Knowing we were dealing with a spirit, I figured the best approach was to compile a list of everyone who had died there. A quick Google search yielded 47 names. I scribbled them all into my notebook, ready to dig deeper when a guy around my age approached with a stack of papers and books.

“I pulled everything we have on the pool and made copies of old newspaper articles for you,” he said, handing over the materials.

I thanked him for his help and returned to my task, narrowing down the list to 30 names based on the idea that the spirit would likely see itself as a burden. Given how long the hauntings had been going on, I wasn’t surprised by the lengthy list. As the computer timer ticked down, I wrapped up my research and returned the books to the desk. I drove back to the hotel in silence, taking the longest route I could manage to avoid running into the others.

When I finally pulled into the parking lot and parked next to Dean’s Impala, I saw Dean examining the side of the car intently. I grabbed my notebook and approached him. Sure enough, there was a noticeable dent on the side, just as Sam had described. The damage didn’t seem too severe—the dent could be fixed, and the scratches looked like they would polish out.

“The damage doesn’t look too bad,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, luck of the draw,” Dean replied, crossing his arms. “It’s nothing I can’t fix once we’re back at the bunker. Where have you been?”

“I was researching. I think I found our spirit. What’s the bunker?” I asked, turning to look at Dean.

“The bunker is a safe house for hunters, covered in sigils and wards, basically impenetrable by anything we hunt,” Dean explained, looking down at me. “Let’s go get Sam, and you can show us what you’ve found.”

Dean unfolded his arms and headed into the hotel room. I followed, casting one last glance at the Impala—yet another thing I felt responsible for. Inside, Dean plopped onto his bed, and Sam sat at the table, typing away on his laptop.

“Put that thing away, Sammy. Y/N here thinks she’s found our spirit,” Dean announced. Sam looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, don’t get too excited; you might pull something,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“What did you find?” Sam asked, clearly unimpressed by my attempt at humor.

“Well, I made a list of everyone who died at the pool and narrowed it down to those the spirit might consider a burden, which leaves us with 30 names,” I said.

“How did you decide who to include on your list?” Sam inquired, his tone almost interrogative.

“From the first death, a young girl who slipped and impaled herself on a pole, there was nothing suggesting she was a burden—no health issues, mental health problems, or family issues. I ruled her out, just like the 82-year-old who had a heart attack and the 14-year-old who broke his neck while showing off,” I explained.

“Okay, I get the point. Have you figured out which of the names on your list is our spirit?” Sam asked, clearly frustrated.

“I’d start with the first person on my list. Not just because they died first, but because the article about them quoted their mother saying, ‘Even though I am heartbroken at losing her, I also feel a sense of relief knowing that she’s no longer burdened by the health issues she had to deal with in her short life.’ Sounds like a recipe for a vengeful spirit to me,” I said, crossing my arms with a smirk.

“Sounds pretty solid to me,” Dean said, glancing at Sam.

“Well, there’s only one way to know for sure,” Sam sighed in defeat.

“Salt and burn the body. One problem, though—the family had her cremated,” Dean said.

“Then something else of hers must remain. A hair, a fingernail, something,” Sam suggested.

“So, what if we split up? You guys check the burial plot, and I’ll search the pool?” I offered.

“What did you find about her death?” Sam asked, his curiosity piqued. “Do you know how she died?”

“According to the reports, she wasn’t technically at the pool when it happened. She was walking past with her family and tried to scale the fence around the pool. At that time, the top of the fence was covered in barbed wire. She managed to reach the top before falling. The portion of the fence she climbed had a post without a cover. In her fall, she impaled herself through the stomach on the pole. She was still alive when they removed her but died on the way to the hospital from extreme trauma and blood loss,” I explained.

“Is the pole still there?” Dean asked.

“I don’t think so. From the records, it was all torn down and replaced about a year ago during a major remodel. But if we’re lucky, the old fencing materials might still be in the area,” I shrugged. “If you two check the pool for the old fencing materials, I’ll look into the burial site.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said, standing up to get his keys.

My keys were already in my hand, so I quickly headed out of the room and into my car before either brother was ready. The less time I spent with them, the better. I drove out of the parking lot and headed toward the burial site, which was more of a hole in the wall than a traditional cemetery. I had my notebook open with the location of the girl’s ashes noted. I glanced at it occasionally, muttering the row and plot number aloud to make it seem like I knew exactly what I was doing. Distracted, I almost drove past the cemetery gates.

I parked as close as I could, took one last look at my notebook, and climbed out. The girl’s ashes were kept in a large, purpose-built building. Inside, everything was white marble, making the place feel cold and eerie. Every footstep echoed off the walls, the sound almost painfully loud. I walked to the back of the building where the older ashes were stored. From what I’d read, these had been kept in brick walls until the cemetery upgraded to something nicer—probably to justify higher prices for plots.

The back wasn’t as well-lit as the front, likely because fewer people visited. It didn’t take long to locate the nameplate for the girl. Each nameplate had a small window above it with an urn and personal items. From what I could see, nothing in the window seemed significant—mostly notes and pictures. Feeling frustrated, I decided it was a bust and headed back to my car.

I hoped the Winchesters were having better luck. As soon as I was back in my car, I sent a text to Dean letting him know the cemetery had yielded nothing. I locked my phone and tossed it into the passenger seat, hearing the almost immediate ping of his reply but choosing not to look. I didn’t want to return to the hotel or my mother’s place. I only had one other place to go.

I put the car in drive and sped out of the cemetery, navigating the familiar streets toward my old refuge. My haven away from my mother’s turmoil. I didn’t even have a chance to stop the car before a familiar, hyperactive face appeared, bounding out the front door. Theresa bounced around and screamed in her driveway as I parked.

“Y/N, you’re back!” Theresa squealed, tackling me in a hug.

“Theresa! I didn’t expect you to still be here. I honestly thought I’d have to ask your parents for your new address,” I smiled, hugging her back.

“Oh, this is my place now. Mum and Dad moved further out of the city,” Theresa shrugged. “Anyway, where have you been traveling? How much of the world have you seen? I want to know everything!”

“Ah, about that… how about I come inside and fill you in?” I suggested.

Theresa grabbed my hand and pulled me into her house. We settled on her couch, and for hours, I poured out my story. I told her how, instead of seeing the world, I’d taken up hunting. I recounted the monsters I’d encountered and the current case at the pool. I mentioned the Winchesters’ return and how, once the case was done, they’d be gone. I even spilled everything about Dean, breaking down over him. Theresa held me close, letting me cry. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen me like this; for years, it had just been the two of us.

After I finally pulled back, Theresa asked, “How do you know Dean isn’t just telling Sam what he wants to hear?”

“Dean’s a player. He admitted it himself. I don’t want to be the girl he strings along while he’s working cases,” I said.

“Y/N, I saw the way he looked at you last time they were here. If love at first sight had a look, that was it,” Theresa giggled.

“Taz, honestly, I don’t want to risk my heart. Like Sam said, hunters don’t get happily ever afters. Maybe it’s best if I learn to be cold now,” I sighed.

“Well, I can see I’m not going to change your mind, and I know arguing this with you is pointless,” Theresa shook her head. “Now, about this case you’re working on—have the boys found anything yet?”

“How should I know? My phone’s in the car.”

“Then go get it, woman!” Theresa squealed.

I reluctantly got up from the couch and made my way back outside. As I approached my car, I could already hear my phone ringing. With a sigh, I walked over to the passenger side. I cringed visibly when I saw the over 40 missed calls and nearly 100 messages from Dean. They were mostly frantic texts of “Where are you?” and “God dammit, woman, answer your phone.” Just as I was about to call him back, my phone rang again.

“Yes, Dean?” I answered.

“Oh, thank God!” Dean practically shouted. “Where have you been?”

“I was catching up with a friend. Did you find anything?” I asked, trying to keep the focus on the case.

“Now is not the time for social calls.”

“Did you find anything?” I repeated, ignoring Dean’s comment.

“Yeah, we found the pole. All the old fencing material has been moved to a scrapyard. I don’t think we’re getting it out of there,” Dean said. “But there are traces of blood inside it. I know we can’t be certain it’s hers, but I don’t want to take the chance that it isn’t.”

“Okay, give me a minute. I have an idea.” I pressed the phone to my chest and yelled back into the house, “HEY, TAZ!”

“That’s my name,” Theresa called back as she came jogging out.

“Is your brother’s ute still in the backyard?” I asked.

“What do you think?” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Can we borrow it?”

“If we can get it to start.”

“Okay, did you hear all that, Dean?” I put the phone back to my ear.

“What’s a ute?” Dean asked.

“A truck,” I said. “Since you know a thing or two about cars, do you mind coming around to help us start it?”

“Yeah, just text me the address,” Dean sighed.

I hung up and texted Dean the address. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to get here, which bothered me a bit. I didn’t want to say anything because Theresa was clearly excited to see Sam. I sighed and sat on the steps outside Theresa’s house, waiting for them. All we needed to do was get the pole, burn the blood, and then Sam and Dean could leave. I kept reminding myself of that. I also had a small window of time to practice ignoring my feelings. After all, Dean was probably going to be the last guy I found myself crushing on. Yeah, that’s all this was—a crush. I’d get over it. What was that thing my mother always said? “You don’t love them; you lust after them. There’s a difference.” Yeah, that was it. I just needed to act like he was a friend, and eventually, that’s all he’d be—a friend.

I heard the Impala roar into the street, much like my own car would have. No wonder Theresa knew I was back before I even got in front of her house. Theresa began shaking me, squealing with excitement as the car pulled into the driveway. I stood to greet the Winchesters. Dean parked his Impala behind mine and climbed out, removing his flannel shirt as he went. He tossed it behind him, revealing his black t-shirt.

I stepped back and let Theresa take the lead. She quickly guided the boys through the house and out to the backyard. I sat back down on the front steps and waited. The sounds of Sam and Theresa’s conversation drifted through the house—Sam laughing at something she said, and Theresa’s infectious laughter in return. It seemed like Sam was enjoying himself, unlike Dean, whose presence I was trying hard to ignore.

I zoned out the sounds from inside and instead focused on the half-dead grass covering Theresa’s front yard. I began to daydream, retreating to a fantasy land I hadn’t visited since I was a teenager. I imagined a world where I had never met Dean Winchester and never fell into this life. In my fantasy, I was somewhere peaceful, far away from the complications of the real world.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 3

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

6.5k word count

Summary The part in which you begin to question if Dean actually has feelings for you or is just stringing you along. Also you prove your a kick ass hunter through the power of research.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, slow-burn

Warnings mention and description of death, s-assault, talks of people with disabilities in a negative light. Your disability doesn't make you a burden! You are amazing, you are loved!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I cried for what felt like an eternity, held tightly in Dean's arms. At some point, he had moved us over to sit on his bed, never once letting me go. When I finally pulled myself together enough to move away from him, I could only manage to stare at the ground in front of the bed.

"Never seen a dead body before?" Sam asked gently.

I nodded, still unable to speak, my voice too shaky to trust. The room fell into a comfortable silence. Dean stood up from the bed and began moving around, retrieving his bag from a random corner. He pulled out a Metallica shirt and brought it over to me.

"You can borrow this for now, so you don't have to go out to your car to get your own clothes," he said, handing me the shirt.

I accepted it and walked off to the bathroom to change. I hung my wet swimsuit over the towel rack and made my way back to Dean's bed. The boys nodded in acknowledgment as I crawled under the covers, hoping that if I lay there long enough with my eyes closed, sleep would eventually come. But my mind had other ideas.

As I tried to sleep, I overheard the boys talking.

"This has really shaken her, Dean," Sam said softly.

"I know, Sammy. I wanted to keep her out of this life. We're supposed to save people, not drag them into our kind of crazy," Dean replied, frustration evident in his voice.

"Come on, man. She chose this for herself. She had the opportunity to walk away, but she decided to take up this life. There's not much we can do about that."

"I just want to make sure she's somewhere I can keep an eye on her. I want her to be safe," Dean said, his voice tense.

"You can't expect her to just pack up and leave, Dean. What's gotten into you, man? You've never acted like this."

"She's... I don't know... she's different."

"You're in love."

"Dude, don't even go there," Dean snapped, ending the conversation.

The room fell silent, and eventually, I drifted off. When I woke up, it was dark outside. The cheap alarm clock next to the bed read 4:30 a.m. I sat up and looked around the room. Dean was asleep on the lounge, and Sam was in his bed. I felt too restless to sleep, so I quietly tiptoed across the room to grab Sam's laptop from the table. I took it back to Dean's bed and started going over the information Sam and Dean had gathered while I was asleep. It seemed they hadn't gotten much further than I had.

I knew burying myself in the case wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I needed to stop whatever was happening from hurting anyone else. But since we had all arrived at a dead end, it meant we needed to look at this from a different angle. I closed Sam's laptop and snuck out to my car to grab a change of clothes. I quietly slipped into the bathroom, changed out of Dean's shirt, retrieved Sam's laptop from the bed, and slipped quietly out of the hotel room. Rather than take my car and risk waking the boys, I decided to walk. I just wanted food and free Wi-Fi, and there was only one place I knew where I could get both: McDonald's.

I walked the six blocks to the nearest McDonald's, ordered more hash browns than should be legally allowed, and took a seat in a back corner while I waited for them to be ready. I opened Sam's laptop and began going over all the information again. I pulled up the details on all the victims and the pool, rereading everything. My hash browns arrived, and I ate them while pouring over the information, but nothing stood out. Twelve deaths now, and there seemed to be no connection between them—different ages, races, genders, religions. Not a single overlap, and nothing that stood out as a reason why these people.

Even when I removed deaths that could reasonably be discounted, like the first death or the boy who apparently slipped down the stairs and the twins who drowned in the wave pool, the puzzle still didn’t add up. It was frustrating. I groaned and sank back into the highly uncomfortable plastic chair. I took a glance around the now busy McDonald's, then checked the time in the bottom right-hand corner of the laptop. 6:23 p.m. My eyes widened as I realized I'd been sitting in the same spot all day. I hurriedly packed up the laptop and went to retrieve my phone, confused as to why Sam or Dean hadn’t been trying to call me all day. My hands rummaged through my pockets, coming up empty. I dumped out my messenger bag, finding nothing. Shit. I mentally cursed.

I quickly shoved everything back into my bag before sprinting into the parking lot, hoping I had simply left my phone in the car. A quick glance, however, showed no sign of my car. Right, I walked here. I groaned, rubbed my hands over my face, and began the walk back to the hotel. Dean was probably thinking I'd done something stupid, and Sam probably thought I stole his laptop. I mean, technically, I did, but I was going to return it, and I never intended to be gone all day.

The walk back to the hotel seemed to take twice as long as the walk to McDonald's. But when the hotel finally came into sight, I quickened my pace. I came to a quick stop, however, when I heard arguing in the room.

“I’m telling you, Dean, she might not come back,” Sam yelled. “And she probably took more than just my laptop.”

“Oh, so you think she took your laptop and God knows what else but left behind her phone and her car that cost way more than anything we own?”

“I mean, how well do we really know her, Dean?”

“If I may intercede, could it not be that she is somewhere researching the case and that time ran from her grasp?” A third voice I didn’t recognize chimed in.

“What…do you mean time got away from her?” Dean asked, baffled.

“Is that how you say it? If so, that’s what I meant to say,” the voice responded.

“Hate to say it, Sammy, but I agree with the angel,” Dean said.

I reached out and knocked on the door, not wanting to barge in while tempers were clearly high. The room fell silent. Heavy boot steps made their way towards the door. There was a moment of silence before a quiet "Thank God" could be heard from the other side of the door. The door swung open to reveal just Dean and Sam in the room. I was certain I had heard a third voice. I stepped quietly past Dean into the room. From the look on Sam’s face, I could tell Dean must have made some gesture behind me directed at him. I glanced toward the bathroom, expecting to see the third person, or at least for the door to be closed, signaling someone was inside. But to my shock and confusion, the door was open, and the bathroom was empty.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked, looking between them, confused.

“We weren’t talking to anyone,” Dean said, glancing over at Sam. “Maybe you heard the TV,” he motioned to the TV that was on but muted.

“Anyway, where have you been?” Sam asked, changing the subject, though he was clearly still mad at me.

“I went to McDonald's to use their Wi-Fi and continue researching. I was up at 4:30, and I didn’t want to wake you,” I explained, looking over at Dean, who had moved to sit on the end of his bed. “Sorry I took your laptop without asking, Sam. I left mine behind at my mother’s when she kicked me out.”

I handed Sam back his laptop. He took it without so much as a thank you and immediately began checking it over. I wanted to scoff and roll my eyes but knew that would only piss him off more.

“So, did you find anything?” Dean asked.

“Nothing. I even tried removing the deaths that could reasonably be written off as accidents, and even that didn’t resolve anything. I am, however, confident that we’re likely dealing with a vengeful spirit,” I said.

“And how did you reach that conclusion?” Sam scoffed, tossing his laptop on his bed.

“We’ve ruled out burial grounds and anything sacred. Then, if you look at location and the fact that all the deaths were witnessed and nothing supernatural was seen, it leaves a very short list. Of that list, I felt that a spirit was the most likely,” I explained, keeping my eyes locked with Sam.

“Why a vengeful spirit? Why not a water sprite?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“Seriously, Sammy? A fairy? Have you ever, in all your years of hunting, found any reliable concrete evidence that fairies are real?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms, met with silence from Sam. “That’s what I thought. Spirit it is.”

Dean sat on his bed, a smirk plastered on his face, clearly amused. “So if that’s the case, then I guess we should head back to the pool and ask more about these deaths,” Dean said, clapping his hands together.

Sam silently huffed and made his way to the door. Dean muttered something along the lines of "he’ll get over it" before moving to the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on while I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. With nothing else to do for the night and both boys otherwise occupied, I retrieved Dean’s shirt from the corner where I had tossed it that morning and got ready for bed. I was just chilling on the bed, enjoying a nice stretch and yawn when Dean stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but his towel. The boy really knew how to make a girl blush.

“Sorry, the room was quiet, so I just thought you’d, you know, left,” Dean said awkwardly.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, unable to form a proper sentence. Dean seemed frozen in place too, his expression unreadable. My eyes wandered over Dean’s chiseled chest. It was clear he worked out—a necessity in his line of work, but it still caught me off guard. Before I could stop myself, I was standing in front of him, my hand reaching out to trace the contours of his chest down to his stomach. His skin was marred with old scars, and I felt the muscles twitch beneath my touch.

Dean placed a finger under my chin, gently lifting my head so our eyes met. The intensity in his gaze made my heart race. Neither of us moved for several moments, locked in a silent standoff. When it became clear neither of us was going to break away, Dean began to close the distance between us.

“I brought dinner,” Sam suddenly announced, walking in the door.

Dean and I jumped apart, startled, as Dean made a beeline for his clothes, quickly pulling on a shirt before heading back into the bathroom. I silently cursed Sam for the interruption. He glanced awkwardly between the now-closed bathroom door and me, clearly realizing he had walked in at the worst possible moment. Sam didn’t say anything, and I took a seat at the table as he began to silently dish out the fast food he’d bought. Dean’s and my dinner was burgers, while Sam had opted for some kind of salad. Dean emerged from the bathroom moments later, fully clothed. He grabbed his burger and fries and left the room, mumbling something about going to see a friend.

Sam and I ate in silence before he went to shower. I retreated to Dean’s bed, pulling his shirt up over my nose to breathe in his scent. The comforting mix of sandalwood, leather, whiskey, and gasoline filled my senses, but I was jolted back to reality when Sam suddenly exited the bathroom and started talking.

“What’s happening between you and Dean?”

“I...uh…what do you mean?” I stammered, caught off guard.

“After we left last time, Dean kept talking about you. He was hoping we’d see you again, but at the same time, he was hopeful you’d listen to him and take his advice,” Sam said as he sat on his bed. “He clearly loves you, but I don’t think having you around is best for Dean.”

“If there was anything between Dean and me, it would be none of your business,” I snapped, my anger flaring. “I love Dean. I’ve felt myself falling for him from the moment I met him. I hoped you guys would come back, but I accepted that you probably wouldn’t. Besides, who are you to say what’s best for Dean?”

“I’m his brother,” Sam yelled, his voice filled with frustration. “Having you around is distracting him, and in this line of work, distraction guarantees death.”

Sam’s outburst scared me, and all I could muster was a quiet “Goodnight, Sam” before curling up in Dean’s bed. Sam stormed out of the room, and moments later, I heard the roar of Dean’s Impala as it drove off. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I cried myself to sleep in the now quiet room.

When I woke the next morning, Sam and Dean were already discussing their game plan for the day. I sat up in bed, listening to their conversation before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. After getting dressed, I packed my swimsuit into a bag and slung it over my shoulder. Dean grabbed his car keys and asked if I was joining them in his car or if I’d be driving my own. I chose to go with Dean to save on gas. The less money I had to spend, the better.

We drove in silence until we reached the pool. The parking lot was nearly empty. Dean found a spot close to the entrance, parked, and turned off the engine. He asked me to go in ahead of them to check if the police were still around. I made my way into the building, scanning the area from the reception desk. There was no crime scene tape, and no signs of police presence.

“Sad, wasn’t it?” a voice said from behind me.

“What?” I asked, turning to see a woman standing beside me.

“Didn’t you hear about the suicide two days ago?” she asked.

“Oh, they ruled that a suicide?” I replied, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, they said the girl had been sexually assaulted a couple of weeks ago, and that was apparently her breaking point. Poor thing.”

I nodded in agreement as the woman walked off towards the pools. I headed back outside to inform the boys, who were now dressed in their suits and digging through the trunk. I wasn’t going to question when or how they had changed. I grabbed my bag from the back seat and filled them in on the details of the recent death. Dean and Sam exchanged a knowing look before we all headed back into the pool. I paid to swim while Sam and Dean flashed their badges, continuing their story about investigating on behalf of a victim’s family.

As Sam and Dean went off to speak with the staff, I wandered around the pool area, trying to piece together anything that could help with the case. I checked an information wall in the reception area, but it said nothing about the incidents. I walked around to the locations where the previous accidents had occurred but found nothing out of the ordinary. Frustrated, I was about to head back to Sam and Dean when I overheard two familiar voices that made my blood run cold.

“I swear she was here the other day with two hot guys.”

“Oh my god, I always knew she was such a slut. You watch—soon she’ll be pregnant and won’t have any idea who the father is.”

“Look, there she is.”

“Hi, Rachel. Jordan. Do you work here too?” I asked, panic slowly creeping in.

“Yeah, what of it? It pays well,” Jordan replied, crossing her arms.

“Oh, okay. I-I was just going to go for a swim while I wait for my boyfriend to finish up.”

“Boyfriend or boyfriends?” Rachel snickered.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, I quickly turned and fled. I had been outside in a general seating area, but I made my way back into the main swimming complex. I spotted Sam talking with a lifeguard near the wave pool, but I didn’t want to face him after last night, so I hurried on, continuing my search for Dean. It wasn’t until I saw him speaking with the man behind the snack counter that I realized how badly I was shaking. Dealing with my high school bullies had rattled me more than I wanted to admit.

I changed direction and headed for the changing rooms instead. I needed to calm down before continuing the investigation. If there was one thing I agreed with Sam on, it was that distractions could get me killed. I made my way to the sinks and splashed some cool water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror as I tried to push down the anger and fear that were consuming me. Fear of the bullies and anger at myself for still not having the courage to stand up to them. After a few deep breaths, I dried my face and headed back out to the pool area where I had last seen Dean.

A quick glance at the snack counter told me he was no longer there, starting my search for him all over again. Luckily, it didn’t last long. I spotted him in the adults-only area above one of the 25-meter pools, which had sun chairs and a spa. Unfortunately, he was speaking with them. I sucked in a deep breath and walked towards the area, steeling myself. I walked up beside Dean and laced my fingers with his, standing silently by his side as I listened to their conversation. Dean was asking questions about the other accidents that had occurred at the pool, but at the same time, he was absentmindedly rubbing circles into my hand with his thumb. It was incredibly distracting, and I found myself staring at our hands, lost in thoughts about last night.

"Here’s a question: How does someone as unattractive as her end up with someone as handsome as you?" My head snapped up to see Rachel giggling at her own comment.

"Yeah, it just doesn’t add up unless you’re only with her because of her money," Jorden chimed in.

"Or maybe because she was easy to get into bed," Rachel added with a laugh.

"Shut up, both of you," Dean said sharply, turning to face them. "Y/N is the most beautiful, amazing, intelligent, sweetest person I’ve ever met. God knows I don’t deserve her, but here she is right next to me, and that makes me one hell of a lucky bastard." He said this with a look of intense sincerity before turning back to me with a smile.

I was stunned into silence, my cheeks burning with a deep blush. Clearly, Dean’s words had left them speechless too, as they quickly excused themselves. Dean watched them leave before turning back to me.

"So, did you find anything?" Dean asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Oh, uh, a woman told me that the death the other day has been ruled a suicide and that the girl had been assaulted about a week ago," I said.

"Assaulted? Did she mention if the friend who was with her here was also there then?" Dean asked, a sudden realization crossing his face.

"No, she didn’t. Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"I think I know what’s going on. We need to find Sam," Dean said urgently.

Dean, still holding my hand, led me out of the adults-only area. He scanned the pools and seating areas before dragging me up the ramps toward the reception. Dean’s determined stride must have looked intimidating, a grown man pulling what appeared to be a teenage girl. I felt the eyes of the onlookers on us as we reached the reception and practically sprinted to Sam, who was talking to someone at the desk.

Sam looked at our interlaced hands with a questioning expression before Dean, realizing we were still holding hands, awkwardly let go. He rubbed his hand on his suit jacket before shoving it into his pants pocket and waited for Sam to finish his conversation. Sam thanked the receptionist and led us to a more private corner.

"I think I’ve figured out what’s going on here, Sammy," Dean said before Sam could speak.

"Well, fill us in," I said, both exhausted from running and impatient.

"I’m pretty sure our spirit is viewing these people as burdens on those closest to them," Dean explained.

"Care to elaborate?" Sam asked, crossing his arms.

"One lifeguard mentioned that the American victim’s mother said they were here to see a world-class behavioral specialist to help calm down the kid. Another lifeguard told me that one of the victims fell over the railing from the spa area to the concrete below—she was in a wheelchair, and she died instantly," Dean said.

"And the assault—she would have been depressed," I whispered.

"So what? That doesn’t bring us any closer to figuring out who the spirit is," Sam said. "It could be someone who felt like a burden or someone who saw others as a burden."

"Then we need to look at all the deaths and figure out who fits the pattern and who doesn’t. We know it has to be someone who died here," I said, looking between them.

"Then let’s investigate each victim more closely," Dean agreed.

Sam and I nodded, and we all headed to the parking lot. As we stepped outside, Dean was rummaging for his car keys, Sam was absorbed in his phone, and I was staring at the ground. None of us paid much attention to the parking lot until Dean looked up, his face contorted with anger.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed. Sam and I turned to see the empty space where the Impala had been.

"Oh dear, was that your car?" A familiar voice came from behind us.

"You bitch!" Dean shouted, storming toward Jorden.

"I’m sorry, but the car was illegally parked," Jorden said, unfazed by Dean’s rage. She maintained a smirk as Dean nearly confronted her.

"Baby was parked perfectly!" Dean yelled in her face.

"Well, not when I came out," Jorden said with a dismissive shrug, turning on her heel and walking back into the building.

"Come on, I know the way to the impound lot," I sighed, leading the way.

Dean walked beside me, while Sam trailed behind us, his gaze burning into the back of my head. I had no idea what his problem was. All we needed to do was finish the case, and then they could go back to the U.S., where they wouldn’t have to see me again—assuming no more cases came up here. The walk to the impound lot took nearly 45 minutes, during which Sam’s intense stare and Dean’s monologue about his car made the time drag. I stayed silent, plagued by the thought that if I hadn’t been here, Jorden wouldn’t have targeted Dean, and Sam wouldn’t be so worried.

"Oh, thank God," Dean said suddenly, breaking my reverie.

"Oh, we’re here," I said, looking at the impound lot sign in a daze.

"Hey, Sammy, why don’t you go get the car, and I’ll wait out here with Y/N?" Dean said, his voice tinged with concern.

Sam scoffed, rolled his eyes, and walked into the lot. I watched him disappear among the rows of cars, some crushed and piled high. Dean observed me watching Sam, and once he was sure Sam was out of earshot, he spoke.

"What’s going on with you?" Dean asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Huh? What? N-nothing is wrong," I stuttered.

"Don’t even try it, short stack. You’ve been silent since we left the pool. So are you going to tell me what the problem is, or am I going to have to make you talk about it?" Dean’s voice grew serious.

"Honestly, it’s fine. It’s probably just in my head," I tried to smile.

"Oh no, you’re not getting out of it that easily," Dean said firmly. "Now spill."

"It’s just that I feel like I’m the problem," I sighed. "Everything that’s happened today could have been avoided if I weren’t here. Hell, everything that happened last night might have been prevented too if I think about it." I hugged myself awkwardly.

"Okay, first off, you are not the problem. You’re far from it," Dean said, uncrossing his arms and pointing at me. "Secondly, I never want to hear you call yourself a problem again."

“Well, Sam seems to think I’m a pretty big issue, and Jorden only did what she did because of me,” I said, my voice breaking as tears began to fall. Before I could stop them, Dean had me wrapped in his arms. One arm was around my back, his thumb gently rubbing my arm, while the other hand cradled my head against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and rested his chin lightly on it.

"I’ll talk to Sam," Dean said softly. "And as for those girls, I think they’d have been snobby no matter who was here."

I nodded, resting against Dean. It felt like an eternity before Sam returned. Dean released me, and we put some space between us. We talked about Jorden and Rachael, recounting their high school antics. I admitted how I still felt like a failure for not standing up to them. Dean, however, pointed out how he’d noticed the envy in their eyes whenever they saw me. He even mentioned how he’d make it obvious he was checking me out, just to see them squirm with jealousy. I chuckled at that, wishing I could’ve seen their faces.

Sam arrived with four bags of stuff but no Impala.

“Where’s Baby?” Dean asked, his anger palpable.

“Sorry, Dean. They’re right about to close. I paid the fine, and they said we could pick up the car in the morning,” Sam explained.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed. “Did you at least check for damage?”

“Uh...” Sam looked nervously between Dean and the pavement. “The passenger side is dented. It looks like they pushed it with another car. Sorry, Dean.”

“SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yelled.

I quickly placed a hand on Dean’s arm to get his attention. “It’s okay, Dean. We can go to my mum’s place for the night. She won’t be home anyway, and we can come back first thing in the morning to get Baby and assess the damage then.”

“I’m gonna kill them,” Dean’s voice trembled with anger as he tried to calm down.

I took Dean’s hand in mine and began leading him away from the impound lot. Sam asked how far the walk was and how I could be so sure my mum wouldn’t be home. I told them it was about a 20-minute walk—a distance I knew well from my teenage years, dealing with my car being impounded for various reasons. My mum worked abroad most of the year, managing a large baby and children’s business. She was rarely home, spending her time between London and Sweden. I’d been looking after myself since I was 14, often hosting friends like Theresa to avoid feeling too alone.

By the time I finished explaining, we were at my mum’s house. I led them down the steep driveway to the side gate. It was unlocked, so I lifted the metal latch and walked into the small backyard, which hadn’t changed since my last visit. I entered through the sliding door into an open living room, kitchen, and dining area, with a staircase leading upstairs.

“Those two lounges are pull-out sofa beds,” I pointed to the metal sofas that looked like they were from the '80s. “I’ll be sleeping through that sliding door, which is my old room. The door next to it is a bathroom with another sliding door into my room.”

“Oh, I have to see your room,” Dean said with a laugh.

He went straight for the sliding door, pushing it open and stepping inside. His immediate burst of laughter drew Sam in, and I followed, feeling embarrassed by the state of my room. The pink and purple walls, the fairy bedspread, and, most mortifying of all, the life-sized cutout of Gerard Way taped to the ceiling above my bed.

“Are you sure you have the right house?” Sam laughed. “I mean, come on—fairies?”

“It was a phase,” I huffed.

“Sam, did you see the poster on the ceiling?” Dean laughed.

“Oh, get out, both of you,” I said, waving my arms around.

The boys left the room, still chuckling. I locked the sliding door and the bathroom door, craving a moment of peace and a hot shower. I rummaged through my cupboard, found an old band shirt I used to sleep in, and headed for the shower. As the hot water washed away the day’s stress, I allowed myself to relax. Afterward, I dressed, dried off, and climbed into bed. In the silence, I heard Sam and Dean speaking softly in the lounge area.

“She’s a distraction for you, Dean,” Sam’s voice was hushed but intense.

“That doesn’t give you the right to upset her. Besides, once we’re through this case, we can go home, and you can go back to pretending she never existed,” Dean replied.

“But you won’t. You’ll always wonder if she’s okay, if she’s alive,” Sam said. “This is why hunters don’t get happily ever afters.”

“Don’t worry so much, Sammy. Once we’re home, I can hit up a few bars, get laid, and get her out of my system. It’s worked in the past; why wouldn’t it work this time?”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I looked up at the poster on my ceiling and cried, letting the tears come until I fell asleep, just as I had on so many nights in that room.

“You know she’s different, Dean,” Sam said.

“Oh yeah? How would you know that?” Dean asked.

“You love her. It’s obvious,” Sam shrugged. “After we were here last, you kept bringing her up. You literally got every form of social media to track her down and see what she was up to. You were worried about her then, but now that you have her number, what happens if she doesn’t message or call you? What will you do?”

“You know what? I’m done with this conversation,” Dean said, turning his back to Sam, trying to get some sleep.

Suddenly, I was jolted awake by a familiar voice yelling from the lounge room. “Who the hell are you? Why are you in my house?”

It was my mother. I jumped out of bed and raced into the lounge.

“Mum, it’s okay. They’re my friends,” I said, stepping into the room.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? I thought you were traveling and had no intention of ever coming back,” Mum said.

“We just needed somewhere to crash for the night while Dean’s car gets fixed. We’ll head out in the morning. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“I wasn’t. I just flew in early this morning from London. Are you going to introduce your friends?” Mum asked, gesturing to Sam and Dean.

“This is Sam and that’s Dean. They’re brothers,” I said, pointing to each one.

“Are you sleeping with them?” Mum asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mum! Seriously, why would you ask that?” I almost shouted.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re just friends. Travel buddies,” Dean spoke up, trying to defuse the situation.

“Oh, American. I see. Figures you’d end up with someone American. It was always going to be that or someone British,” Mum shrugged.

“Seriously, Mum,” I sighed.

“What? I’m just stating the facts. Would you boys like breakfast before you all rush off? God knows my daughter can’t stand me, and now that she knows I’m home, she’ll be dying to leave as soon as possible,” Mum said dramatically.

“That sounds great, thank you very much,” Sam said with a smile.

I sighed and went back to my room to change. I grabbed another old band shirt and a pair of ripped skinny jeans, then packed a suitcase with items I should have brought earlier—my laptop, extra clothes, and my jewelry box. I placed the suitcase next to the boys’ duffle bags and headed upstairs to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already at the dining table, chatting and laughing with my mum, who was busy cooking pancakes. I sat silently at the table, listening to their conversation. Dean seemed to be getting along great with my mum, which only made the previous night more painful. I knew I was falling for him, but if he planned to leave, return to the U.S., and pretend I never existed, why make a big deal about not letting me out of his sight? Why go out of his way to comfort me?

“Okay, breakfast is ready,” Mum said cheerfully.

“Oh, this looks amazing, Miss Y/L/N. Thank you,” Dean said, taking the plate of pancakes from my mum and placing it on the table. The boys began to dig in, enjoying what was probably their first home-cooked meal in a long time. The conversation with my mother continued effortlessly, and I couldn’t help but notice how convincingly Dean lied about how we met, what they did for a living, and why they were in Australia. It made me question if everything he’d told me was a lie. Maybe I needed to be more like Dean and just move on after this case was over.

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love (Revisited) Part 2

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.5k word count

Summary After completely ignoring Deans warning you find yourself reunited with the Winchesters after a perplexing case brings them back down under.

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

Warnings mention and description of death

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

It's been a year since I met the Winchesters. I tried to return to my old life, but the knowledge that there were creatures out there that could kill me at any moment made it impossible to concentrate. So, I decided to hit the road. I packed my most important belongings into my car and left everything else at my mom's. I dropped out of university and began searching for other hunters. The Winchesters didn’t leave me a how-to guide on hunting monsters, so I had to figure it out on my own. I traveled far and wide, leaving messages for hunters wherever I could—monster books in libraries, notice boards, online chat rooms, you name it. After two months of relentless searching, I was finally contacted by a guy named Johnny. Johnny owned a roadhouse near Broken Hill, one of the few hubs for hunters. He gave me a list of known hunters' hubs, a list of essential tools, and a job to get me started. "An easy find and burn," he said. He advised me to call him for jobs for now and assured me that I would gradually learn how to find my own hunts. And that's how I ended up on the job I'm working today.

I had driven through the night to get back to Sydney, to the suburb of Blacktown where my story began. It was the first time I'd been back since everything that happened with the boys. This time, a similar case had brought me back: a ghost causing accidents at the local pool, leading to 11 deaths so far. Something needed to be done soon. The latest incident occurred just a week before. A paraplegic kid had seemingly stood up from her wheelchair, climbed onto a diving board, and dove headfirst onto the cement below. The ghost was escalating its attacks, putting this case at the top of my list. Before tackling the case, though, I needed to rest. I decided to book into a hotel, take a hot shower, eat, and sleep. I had only enough money for one night, so I found a cheap hotel close to the pool with vacancies and pulled in. As I parked and hopped out of my car, a certain vehicle caught my eye. Everything else was quickly forgotten as I ran to the room the car was parked in front of. I stopped to catch my breath before knocking on the door.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Dean said, crossing his arms with a smirk as he opened the door.

"Hey, Dean," I smiled.

"Y/N, is that you?" Sam asked, appearing behind Dean.

"In the flesh," I replied. "What brings you two back to town?"

"We're working this case," Dean explained. "A friend of ours called after getting a tip from a hunter here—some ghost killing a bunch of people at a pool."

"What a coincidence. I'm working that case too. It's been on my radar for the last three months, but it's really ramped up in the last month, so I figured I should probably get my ass back here and take care of it."

"I thought I told you to stay away from all this," Dean suddenly snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"I tried, Dean. I really did. But I couldn't shake it. I was second-guessing everything and everyone, and I felt like I needed to do this to feel safe," I said, recoiling at his words.

"I told you there were other people like us doing this job so you could be safe. Trust me, this isn't the life you want."

"You packed up and went back to the States. You left me here where there are barely any hunters. What did you expect me to do?" I snapped back.

"I expected you to listen to me!" Dean yelled, jabbing a finger toward the ground.

I flinched away from Dean, and he immediately noticed. The regret on his face was clear. He tried reaching out to touch my arm, but I moved back. Sighing, he stepped aside, allowing me into the room. Sam motioned for me to come over to the sole table where he was working on his laptop. Dean, meanwhile, moved to sit on his bed on the opposite side of the room. Sam ran me through everything they had found so far. He mentioned a friend of theirs named Bobby, who had been contacted by a local hunter overwhelmed by the case. It was something I had noticed too, and it had only motivated me more to become a hunter. Over the past year, I had been taking on the harder cases that other hunters struggled with. I had made contacts at all the hunters’ roadhouses in Australia and had hardly had a day to myself since. I told Sam about Johnny, a name he instantly recognized. Apparently, Johnny had been the one to call Bobby, requesting the boys' help after many other hunters had come up short.

"What have you found so far?" I asked Sam.

"Well, the earliest accident recorded at the pool was two months after it opened," Sam replied.

"I found that too during my initial research. She was running, slipped on the wet floor, and got impaled on a sign pole. Not a nice way to go, but it doesn't seem like something to create a vengeful spirit," I said.

"My thoughts exactly," Sam sighed. "But I can't find anything about the place being built on a burial ground or sacred site or anything."

"So, what you're saying is there's no reason for these deaths to be ramping up at this joint?" Dean finally joined the conversation.

"Well, none we can find," I said. "This is why I've avoided the case for so long. Every time I've looked into it, I haven't been able to find a reason. Nothing I know of could be causing this, nothing Johnny knows of could be causing this. Maybe Bobby might know something?"

"I'll call him," Sam sighed.

Sam grabbed his phone and left the room. I looked at Dean in confusion. We were working this case together, so why would Sam leave? Dean mumbled something about Sam thinking best when he was walking around. I just shrugged and stayed at the table, waiting for Sam to come back. Dean and I fell into an uncomfortable silence. I knew he wasn't happy with me being here and giving everything up to become a hunter, but I didn’t see any other choice. I understood the dangers; I knew a hunter's life was often short. But if it meant making a difference while I was still here, then so be it. Dean needed to understand this.

"Dean..."

"Save it. I know I won't be able to change your mind, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you leave my side," Dean said, looking over at me. "I wanted to save you from this life. I wanted you to walk away and never look back. I don't want you to end up broken like me."

"It's not like I have anything to lose. My father abandoned me, my mother and I barely talk, and I don’t exactly have any other family. Just friends, and as far as they know, I came into a small fortune and I'm off traveling the world," I sighed.

"Sounds like every hunter origin story I've heard before," Dean chuckled coldly.

"Why? What's your story?" I asked.

"Mum died, Dad abandoned us, then he died. I'm one of the lucky ones, though, because I got Sammy. And I guess now I have your dumbass to look out for too," Dean smiled at me.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," I laughed.

"Oh, it is. You're a pain in my ass," Dean laughed too.

"Who, me? Nah, I'm delightful."

Sam walked back into the room, greeted by the sight of Dean and me laughing our asses off, a stark contrast to how he had left us. He looked between us before awkwardly starting to explain that Bobby would investigate the situation, contact some other hunters in the area, and call Sam back if he found anything. Until then, Dean decided it would be best if we grabbed some food and called it a night. Dean left Sam and me to clean up the table while he went to get what he called the world’s smallest McDonald’s burgers. Sam and I just shook our heads at him and continued to tidy up. We talked about what the guys had been up to since they were last here and everything I had done. Sam was quite impressed at how quickly I had learned to spot signs of the supernatural and my ability to research and handle problems. It turned out they had heard from Bobby about a badass new hunter on the scene out here, but they had no clue it was me. It didn’t take us long to clean off the table, and soon Dean returned with the food. He dumped the bags on the table and began tossing burgers at each of us, cursing when he reached for the fries and found they had all fallen out in the bag. Sam and I shook our heads at Dean and started on our burgers while he fixed the fries. After we had eaten, we all agreed to get some sleep while waiting for Bobby to get back to us. Sam went off to shower first while Dean kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed. I, on the other hand, moved toward the door, planning to book my room for the night.

"Where are you staying?" Dean suddenly asked, stopping me in my tracks.

"Going to book a room for tonight, then probably sleep in my car until this is over. Why?" I turned back towards Dean.

"You can't be serious."

"Well, normally I'd loo or a free campground, but we're in the middle of a city. Luckily, I recently found this really cool inflatable bed thing. You move the seats forward, put it in the back seat, and it acts like a real bed. It's actually pretty comfortable," I rambled.

"Like hell you're sleeping in your car. Take my bed, and I'll take the couch," Dean grumbled, getting up from his bed. "Besides, it saves you the money you'd spend on a room for a single night."

"Dean, I can't kick you to the lounge again," I sighed.

"Nonsense. Hunters need a safe place to sleep."

"We don’t exactly get paid, Dean. I do odd jobs in the towns I’m in between or sometimes even during hunts, just to get enough to eat and to put fuel in my car. I can’t afford a hotel room."

"And that’s where credit card scams come in," Dean smirked.

"How? I mean, you’d need fake IDs and birth certificates, not to mention the limits. Eventually, they’d cut the card off."

"Bobby hooks us up with a whole host of fake IDs—cops, FBI, CIA, you name it. The trick with credit cards is to get the card with the highest limit. For instance, a card with a $10,000 limit before repayments are needed. Use it for the case, and before you get out of dodge, withdraw the remaining amount. That way, when they come looking for Mr. Hector Rodriguez, it looks like he never left town."

"Jesus, Dean, that’s insane."

"That’s the life," Dean shrugged, making himself comfy on the lounge.

I took off my shoes and made myself comfortable on the bed while waiting for Sam to finish with the shower. I had planned to use the bathroom to change, but I must have been more tired than I realized because I nodded off. I woke up the next morning to an empty room and noticed that Dean’s Impala was gone too. They must have heard back from Bobby and headed off to chase a lead. It kind of sucked that they didn’t wake me up first, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, mostly for background noise, before heading to my car to grab a change of clothes. With clothes in hand, I went to the bathroom for a shower. I always found that the shower was the best place to organize my day. I turned the water on, cranking up the heat until it was almost unbearable. As the shower screen fogged up, I began to write out my plan for the day. First, I needed to find some breakfast, then I needed to locate the guys. The problem was, I didn’t have either of their numbers and wasn’t keen on driving aimlessly around the city to find them. After washing up, I begrudgingly turned off the water. As I reached for a towel, I was horrified to realize there were only two towels in the bathroom. I rummaged through the room but found no additional towels. I returned to the bathroom, eyeing the two towels on the rack. At this point, I was almost dry, so I grabbed the obviously unused towel and quickly dried myself off, hanging the towel back as neatly as possible when I was done. Once I was dressed and dry, I grabbed my phone and keys before heading out to my car. I was honestly surprised that Dean had managed to pick out which car was his and which was mine. The engine roared to life as I settled into the driver's seat. I drove to McDonald's to grab a breakfast deal. After I got my food, I figured I might as well continue investigating the case on my own. As I waited in the drive-through, I pulled out my phone to continue my research. It was then that I noticed a text message from Dean, which caught me off guard since I hadn’t saved his number.

Hey sleeping beauty, when you get this, give me a call. If I don’t answer, I put Sammy’s number in your phone too.

I chuckled to myself before dialing the number. After a few rings, Dean picked up.

"Hey, enjoy your sleep?" Dean laughed.

"It was great, thank you. Your bed is very comfy."

"At least someone’s enjoying my bed," Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, you should really try it sometime. It's so comfy and warm, it would put you straight to sleep," I taunted.

"Pfft, who needs an awesome bed when they have a perfect lounge to sleep on?"

"Where are you anyway?" I laughed on the phone.

"About to head to the pool," Dean sighed. "We’ve exhausted the library. They have nothing on the pool that we didn’t already know, so the only place left is the pool."

"Have fun with that. I’m just getting breakfast. Oh, and here it comes!" I squealed, winding down the window.

"Yeah, yeah, stuff your face then get your ass over here," Dean chuckled, hanging up.

I took my food with a thank you before pulling into the parking lot. After parking my car, I started on my breakfast. It didn’t take me long to finish, and I tossed my rubbish into a nearby bin before heading to the pool. When I arrived, I parked towards the back of the lot and went inside. It annoyed me more than it should have that I had to pay to enter the pool, even though I had no intention of swimming. It felt weird paying just to watch, but being on my own, it seemed the only option. I walked down the ramp into the main pool area, which featured a wave pool, a splash pool, and two 25-meter pools. It wasn’t overly busy, so it didn’t take more than a quick glance to spot Sam and Dean. It also helped that they were the only people in the building in suits. They were standing near the wave pool controls, talking to a lifeguard. As I started making my way towards them, I was suddenly halted by the sound of a giggle. It was a giggle I would recognize anywhere, sending an ice-cold shiver down my spine. I almost turned around and fled back to my car, intending to wait for Sam and Dean to finish. The only thing that stopped me was Dean spotting me and giving me a wink, which caused the lifeguard to look over her shoulder towards me. I squared my shoulders, held my head high, and walked over to them. Upon reaching them, however, my mouth started spilling out words before my brain could catch up.

"Hey, babe," I said, leaning against Dean's side. "I thought I’d come for a swim while you take care of things, but I don’t have any swimwear." I winced inwardly at the cringe-worthy line.

"Oh, hi Rachel! Haven’t seen you since graduation. Still lifeguarding, I see?" I greeted, trying to mask my awkwardness.

"Y/N, yes, I am. It pays quite well. How did you end up with such a handsome man?" Rachel asked, crossing her arms and giving me a disapproving look.

"Well, as you probably heard, I’ve been traveling the world, and during a trip through America, I found this handsome man," I said, smiling up at Dean.

"Lucky you," Rachel scoffed.

"Yeah, lucky me," I replied, still smiling at Dean.

"Anyway, baby, here’s my card. Go get yourself some swimwear and have a good time," Dean said, handing me a card.

"Thank you," I said, taking the card and giving Dean a quick peck on the cheek before darting off.

As I was leaving, I heard Dean say, "Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to ask all the staff about the incident."

I went to the main counter and bought a swimsuit—one of the things I had left behind when I packed up and left, thinking I’d never use it again. With the swimsuit in hand, I headed back to find Sam and Dean to return Dean's card, thank him for his help, and apologize for putting him on the spot. As I wandered back into the main pool area, I quickly spotted Dean standing at the edge of the splash pool, talking to a lifeguard. Just as I was about to approach him, a hand suddenly came down on my shoulder. I jumped and spun around, ready to punch whoever had touched me.

"Wow, easy there," Sam chuckled.

"Sam, why would you do that?" I slapped him on the chest.

"I didn’t mean to scare you. Just figured I should fill you in before you blow our cover story any further."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I muttered, dropping my head.

"Oh, it’s fine. No harm done," Sam smiled. "Anyway, we were researching the deaths this morning, and one of the victims was a young girl on holiday from America. So Dean and I decided to come in and ask some questions, posing as representatives from the American Embassy investigating on behalf of the parents."

"That’s actually pretty smart. I’ll go change into these swimmers and stay out of your way. Also, can you give Dean back his card?" I handed it to Sam. "I feel kinda bad for taking it."

"Well, it’s not our money anyway, so nothing to feel bad about," Sam smirked.

I laughed at Sam's comment and walked away with a wave towards the female changing room. Only two other people were in the changing room when I walked in—two young girls, probably no older than 18. It seemed they had just finished their swim and were getting ready to shower and change. I ducked into an empty changing booth on the opposite side of the room from them. They were giggling and whispering between themselves as I walked by. If only they knew what was happening here, what was happening in the world. I quickly slipped into the swimsuit—no easy feat when both you and the suit are as dry as the Sahara Desert. Just as I bundled my clothes in my arms and was about to open the door, the room was suddenly filled with a blood-curdling scream. I dropped my clothes and threw open the door. One of the girls from earlier was now pressed up against the wall on the opposite side of the room, while the other lay motionless on the floor.

I ran over to the girl on the floor and dropped down by her side, assessing her for any signs of life. She was gone; her neck was clearly broken. Standing up, I walked over to the other girl as more people began pushing their way into the bathroom. Sam and Dean were among them. Seeing the scene, they began pushing people back and asking for someone to call emergency services. I took the other girl into my arms, shielding her face from the horrific sight and encouraging her to look away. I nodded to Sam and Dean, knowing they would need to leave the building quickly but quietly while I stayed behind to answer questions. I tried to ask the girl what had happened, but all I could get was the word "why," spoken in a whisper between sobs. I just held her, rubbing circles into her back while waiting for help to arrive.

It felt like forever, but it was probably no more than 15 minutes before the police and ambulance arrived. The police stood back, allowing the paramedics to do their work. Once the paramedics confirmed there was nothing they could do for the girl on the floor, they turned their attention to her friend. They checked her over and then escorted her to a waiting ambulance. The police followed, making sure I stayed put in the room. Returning to where I had discarded my clothes, I gathered them up and sat on the bench running the length of the room. Holding my clothes to my chest, I suddenly felt naked in the now-empty room. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a dead body, and living the life I chose, I knew it wouldn’t be the last. But that didn’t make it any less jarring. The absolute stillness of her body, the lack of the normal rise and fall of her chest, the absence of any movement, the fading pink hue of her skin—it was all so stark, so sudden. I closed my eyes and prayed she went quickly.

The quiet of the room was soon broken by the arrival of crime scene techs and coroners. They completely ignored my presence and went about their tasks, examining the deceased girl and the room. The only interaction I had was with a woman who came over and asked for my clothes. Confused, I asked why, since they hadn't been near the girl. She insisted it was needed just in case and that they would get them back to me as soon as possible. Reluctantly, I handed over my clothes and filled out the paperwork she provided. With no other address to use, I gave her my mother's address for the return of my clothes.

I watched as the coroner bagged the girl's body and removed it from the room while the techs continued to take pictures and discuss their theories about what had happened. Eventually, after what must have been 30 minutes, the police returned to the room to speak with me. They asked a flurry of questions that blurred together: Did you know the victim? No. Did you see what happened? No. Do you know Samantha? Was that the other girl? No. What were you doing here? Changing to swim. On and on, question after question. They questioned me for over an hour. It felt like a waste of their time, as I had nothing to offer—they were asking a witness who hadn’t witnessed anything. Before they let me go, I asked what Samantha had said about the incident. They gave me the usual response: they couldn’t divulge much but assured me that the investigation would reveal the truth.

I thanked the officers and left the room. I fell into a sort of autopilot. Before I knew it, I was out of the pool, in my car, and back at the hotel, with no recollection of the drive. I parked next to Dean’s Impala. As soon as I shut off the engine, I began to shake uncontrollably. I took a few shaky breaths, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I climbed out of the car and walked to the room door, knocking and waiting for someone to answer. When the door finally opened, it was Dean standing there.

“They took my clothes,” was all I managed to say before the weight of the day hit me. In the year I had been working cases, I had never seen a dead body or witnessed someone die. I had only read about it, keeping a safe distance from the true horrors. The only dead body I had seen before this was my grandmother’s, and I had hoped she would be the only person I would have to see die in my lifetime. Today’s events had dredged up all those memories and emotions I had tried so hard to bury.

As I broke down, Dean pulled me into the room and shut the door. He wrapped his arms around me, offering a safe, warm refuge where I could finally let my emotions flow.

may i request eret, quackity, sam and foolish comforting reader? thanks x

Of course! Take care anon xx

Eret

His entire presence is comforting in and of itself. They are just a very good person to be around in general if you need calming down.

Eret has a very natural sort of peace-keeping personality that he'd definitely be very good with angry-sad people.

Her voice is just very soothing and she's got a few breathing exercises memorized.

Eret also has a bunch of extra candy laying around that he's not afraid of using to make you feel better, because you're not you when you're hungry.

That's not to say they're used to it though, they can and will startle pretty easily

As long as they care about you though, she'd still try to help anyways!

Quackity

He pulls a lot of the same tricks my Mexican mother pulls when I'm upset.

Which is essentially talking loudly over you and pretending you're not upset until it works.

Okay, jokes aside Quackity is very awkward around crying people so as long as your liquids are inside of you, he's good to go.

Quackity is very much of the mindset of 'comforting distractions' to take your mind off what's making you upset.

With jokes, stories, or even singing if that helps, though his default is Mexican lullabies (they're super effective, I can personally vouch)

He's also someone who'd set up an entire blanket fort just to platonically cuddle you.

but only because he read somewhere that hugs are supposed to make you feel better (pls don't tell this man otherwise, Quackity couldn't take it, he'd instantly explode and then you'd have to comfort him)

You can't rant to him though, he will have a million and one things to say

Sam

Sam is actually really good at handling people, even upset people

He's sort of just a natural, very empathetic and caring.

Not to say Sam does it very often, but he always tries to be there and let everyone know it

he's just naturally good at reading the room and catering to your needs

Need to eat your feelings? Sam has snacks! Need really shitty romance movies and a good cry? He quite literally has hundreds and tissues, go off.

A bit awkward with physical affection but always willing as long as you don't bully him too much for it

He's also a very good listener if you need to rant, Sam is also very good at giving advice (unless it's romantic, don't ask)

Sam just cares a lot, please do the same for him because he deserves it

Foolish

This man is a mess

Foolish will definitely try his best to comfort you, I can promise you that

Will it work? Probably not, this man sucks at genuine comfort

Unless his fumbling comforts you, in which case: He's amazing!

Does try really hard to be there for you and Foolish will definitely make a million stops at stores looking for your favourite comfort candy

He's the type to look up wiki-hows for comforting people but with his luck, it's a coin toss for making it worse or somehow fixing it

Has his sister and mom on speeddial and WILL rely on them for help in the event that he does, in fact, make it worse by using wiki-how

He does put a lot of effort into trying though so please let him know you appreciate that! (And also don't let Foolish try comforting anyone ever again)

{《☆》}

[Wow, I haven't posted anything for two months. A lots happened, certain things hit me real hard and life is quite possibly peak stressful right now. I'd just like to say that I hope all of you are doing well and taking care of yourselves.]

[I'm currently in the process of switching therapists and things are wack so I'm really sorry that I stopped writing for so long. I am healthy and taking care of myself so no one has to worry. I'd love it if all of you could consider donating to curesaracome.org and continue spreading Techno's memory.]

[That's all for now so take care.]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Taglist: @creatorofstars @hiwhatsupbruv

Masterlist

beating the heat

…this is just straight smut. pls be advised. (mdni!!!)

It was the week before the wedding, and you were both… excited, to say the least. You sat together on your couch avoiding the summer heat.

“Farmer,” he said.

“Yes?” you replied, looking over at him.

He made eye contact with you and traced your cheekbone lightly with his fingers. “Farmer…” he said again, but this time gutturally. 

You suddenly understood what he wanted. But. Why let him have it so easy? You decided to play with your food, just a little. 

“Yes?” you said before batting your eyes slowly.

“Farmer. I.. I want you,” Sam said quietly.

“Hmm…” you pretended to think about the offer before saying “I dunno… It might be too hot out for me to touch you.” You said with fake disappointment. 

Then, “you know, it might even be too hot for me to be wearing all this heavy farm-wear…” You said before unclasping your overalls and letting the straps hang at your waist. You could feel Sam’s eyes glued to you as you pulled off your bulky tee shirt as well.

You fanned yourself briefly and said “Whew! Much better.”

Sam gaped at you and adjusted himself.

You saw him not-so-subtly adjust and smirked before saying “What, Sammy? Is there something you need?”

He flushed bright red before shaking his head and saying “n-no. No. I don’t need anything.” He knew that you liked to play this game sometimes and let you take the lead.

You stalked toward him before leaning down and tipping his chin up toward you. “Nothing? Hmm. A shame, really. I was going to ask if you wanted to use your favorite toy. That way I don’t have to touch you, and you get what you really want. Isn’t that what you want, my love? Some relief for that poor, aching cock of yours?”

Sam nodded his head vigorously into your hand before stuttering “Y-yes please, ma’am. That’s what I want. I want that so much.”

You smirked again and left the room, returning a minute later with the cock ring the two of you picked out together. It came with a remote, so you could have total control over him without even being in the same room together.

Sam was already breathless with the thought of you controlling every part of him. You sat down in the plush chair across the coffee table from him and instructed him to take off his shirt and pants. He did so immediately, discarding them behind the couch.

You looked directly at his tented boxers, and felt a little bad for the man. You were depriving him of some damn relief. He was to be your husband! You owed him this pleasure.

You crossed the room to kneel at his feet, but not before kissing him sweetly. “Now, be a good boy for me, okay? Listen to me, and I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

Sam nodded eagerly in response.

As you rolled down his boxers, you watched his dick hit his stomach from arousal. You tsked and said “someone’s excited, hmm? Seems like you might deserve a little reward.” 

He trembled and nodded “Please. Please?”

You smiled and licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. He groaned in response. 

You grabbed the toy from the coffee table and unwrapped it. “Do you want it, baby?”

He nodded rapidly.

“Be a good boy, and use your words, Sammy.”

He shuddered. You knew he liked this game just as much as you did. “Yes, please, ma’am. Please, let me use my toy. Please. Please,” he said before throwing his head back on the couch.

He seemed very anxious to play, so you acquiesced to his request. After spitting on the toy, you, carefully, pushed it down to the base of his penis before strapping his balls into the toy as well. 

He was panting now. “I- I need it. I need you, farmer. P-please. F-fuck. Fuck me, please.”

You stood up and asked “do you need restraints, or can you promise not to touch yourself for me, Sam?”

Sam shook his head and said “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I know you will,” you replied before kissing his forehead and returning to your chair across the room. 

“Are you ready?” you asked him. 

He responded instantaneously. “Yes. Yes. Yes, I’m ready, ma’am.”

You smiled again and turned on the toy to its lowest setting. Over the sound of the vibrations, you heard Sam moan softly. He really was enjoying this. You loved seeing him like this. Yoba, it was starting to get you off. 

Slowly, as he adjusted to the rhythm of the toy, you pulled off your own clothing, leaving the two of you both completely nude. Sam awoke from his trance to find you this way and shifted in his seat.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Are you- um. I- Uh.”

You traced patterns on your thighs and asked Sam “what do you want, my love? Tell me.”

He inhaled sharply before asking timidly, “Wi-will you touch yourself? I want to watch you. W-watch you make yourself feel good. I mean. I- uh. Fuck-” He shuddered again from the toy’s stimulation.

You chuckled before saying “Yes, my love. Whatever you want,” and opening your legs to give him a better view. 

You started by caressing your inner thighs, and, when that felt like not enough, you stuck your fingers in your mouth then trailing them down to your core. You brushed over your clit and shuddered in anticipation. “Fuck,” you whispered before briefly dipping your fingers into your hole. You sighed, and Sam squeaked from the other side of the room. You had been so wound up, you’d forgotten that he was there, struggling in silence. 

You immediately pulled your fingers away and picked up the remote again. 

“Did you like that, Sam?” You amped up the power on the toy. “Did me playing with myself arouse you?” You upped the power again. “Did it make your pretty cock pulse?” Up the power.

Sam yelped. “Y-Yes.. Yes. Fuck. Yes, ma’am. Fuck!” 

You upped the power once more, to the highest setting before setting it down next to you and plunging your fingers back into yourself. “Mmmm. I bet it did, you slut. You like watching, huh? Your dick hardens just thinking about me pleasing myself, doesn’t it?”

Sam yelped, louder this time. “FUCK! Fuck. Fuck y-yes. Yes! You.. FUCK. You pleasing yourself.. It gets me off. Fuck! Fuck. Farmer. Farmer, pl-please. Please come here. FUCK!”

You played with your clit for a minute more, just to make him squirm, before crossing the room to finish him off. 

He was gasping for air by the time you reached him. “Baby. Baby. Please. Please. Fuck. Fuck me, please.” 

You petted his hair and his head fell onto your chest. “Farmer…”

You smoothed out his hair before kneeling at his feet again. You spat on your hand and began to pump his neglected cock. His reaction to your touch was immediate. His whole body shuddered, and he moaned your name. 

You kissed his tip before opening your mouth and taking as much of him as you could. He wasn’t very girthy, but his length more than made up for it. You pumped him again, covering as much of him in you as possible. 

He whimpered, and you knew he was close. “Farmer…” he squeaked out. “Fuck. Fuck! Please…”

You had saved this as your final trick… You removed your lips from his length and attached them to his balls, sucking lightly. This was his favorite. The first time you were together, he came as soon as you slightly grazed his balls. He’d been embarrassed, but you’d known that this secret would come in handy when he was close to finishing. 

While your mouth sucked at his balls, you used your hands to pump him applying slight pressure. He was very vocal when at his limit, and this was it. He whimpered and groaned and shook and before you could come up for air, he had tapped your shoulder indicating he was about to cum. 

You immediately reattached your lips to his cock and cradled his balls in your hands. You squeezed lightly, and he came in your mouth. 

“Ah– Ah. Fu-Fuck. FUCK! Oh- oh Yoba.. Farmer…. Farmer..” he was out of breath, and, as you swallowed his cum, it was all he could do not to pass out from the sight. You kissed his thigh as you removed the toy. You then rubbed his thighs before standing up to g​​et a towel and some water for your lovely partner. 

Before you left, though, he grabbed onto your hand, looked you in the eyes, and said, “Farmer, I really, really love you. You know that right?”

You smiled and kissed his hand. “I love you, too, Sammy.”

OKAY UM YES. LOL. my first time writing a full-length scene I hope it is okay n i hope y'all like it LAWL ! lmk if u have any suggestions or anything i am new at this so any advice is awesome !! thank u :3

everyone's blond husband <3

When you first met him, you were a bit overwhelmed by his “pep.” The boy with the spiky, blond hair who always wore a smile despite his ever-healing lip piercing. He did have a wonderful smile. No wonder he was always showing it off. It made you smile to yourself, just thinking about it. 

In your first year on the farm, you were swamped with work. From chopping down trees to make room for sprinklers to trying your best to fix up the old community center in the middle of town, you’d just barely make it into bed on time every night. This meant you had barely any time to meet your neighbors, much less get to know them. Your over excited neighbor, however, seemed to have made it his mission to spend as much time with you as possible.

One day, in mid summer, when you were replanting melon seeds, his shadow darkened your property. You’d heard him coming before you saw him; he’d been humming to himself a song he’d been writing for his band. He had asked you, in the spring, what genre of music you liked and you’d tried to answer in a way that he would’ve approved of: “hi-energy dance music.” He seemed to accept this answer and promptly started writing such a song with his long-time best friend.

“Hey,” he said as he approached. 

You greeted him without looking up from your field, “hi, Sunshine.” 

This was a nickname you’d started calling him after he’d lost at pool for the seventh time in the three weeks you’d known him. You had always known him as a ray of sunshine, but when he lost at pool, he seemed to get downright depressed. The nickname was born from insistent teasing, but after a while, it became a pet name of sorts.

The boy rolled his eyes when he heard the nickname but you could swear you saw his cheeks tinge pink in the afternoon sun. 

“Whaddya need? I have about fifty more seeds to plant today, but then I can hang out if you want,” you said, face buried in your work.

“Hmm,” he said. Then, “can I help? I dunno how you want me to plant, but maybe I could water some of them? …if that’d be helpful, I mean.”

You looked up at him. “Yea. Yea, that’d be great. Thanks, Sunshine,” you said and smiled at him.

He smiled back at you and picked up the copper watering can that had been discarded early in the morning when you found your crops ripe to be plucked. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

About an hour later, you had both finished your chores, and you were sitting on your porch while he stood in front of you. You leaned in just enough to examine each of his features closely. He was quite beautiful, you thought to yourself. His silver lip ring, his enormous blue eyes, his golden hair, covered up today with a baseball cap. You reached over and pulled it off his head. He started. 

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

You shrugged before saying “I wanted to see your face better.” You reached up to brush his hair out of his face and smiled. Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him. You were about to say something, but he kissed you, and it felt like you were on fire. He was maybe the third person you’d ever kissed and, by far, the best one. 

He smiled brightly and said cheekily, “alright. I gotta go. Mom’s making dinner and she needs me to swing by the general store before she can start cooking.” He looked you up and down before simply saying “bye!” and turning on his heel.

HEHE hope u like it is my first sam post :3

inspired by this post

i like to think that ppl come to farmer for comfort or jst to genuinely hangout... requesting sam coming to farmer's house in the middle of the night as he confides in them w hot chocolate / coffee / tea 👉🏻👈🏻

apple cider

pairing: sam x reader

wc: 1.6k

tags: MILD hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, they are friends here!!

synopsis: sticky summer nights always make you feel a little restless.

a/n: its been 2 months with no sam fic!!!! here is my sincere apology hehe. title from apple cider by beabadoobee. this ask is so cute anon mwa mwa

Nothing ever truly rests during the summer; not even during the night.

Fireflies flicker and fly, weaving through the sparse grass beds sprouting from under your porch. The dark is hardly dark, your eyes have adjusted to the sparse light emanating from your dingy porch light. Your cardigan is haphazardly thrown off, draped over the hand-carved trellis. Bare feet meet the grass; damp and cool against your heated skin.

Energy thrums through the air, electrifying it with the undercutting buzz that leaves you wide awake. The season leaves the nights tepid, leaving your skin sticky. 

You can’t sleep; not one bit tuckered out after a whole day toiling the fields. Though your mind is blissfully blank, your hands are preoccupied with bringing your mug to your lips.

The cacophony of crickets chirping echo through the flat farmlands of your property. It’s quiet, peaceful. Yet you are wide-eyed and awake, sipping on  herbal tea—a mixture of herbs from your crop beds—in the hopes you can knock yourself out. 

You are hyper aware of your surroundings, unable to pull yourself into the sleepy state you want. You feel the sheen of sweat drying on your skin, the warm summer breeze tickling the nape of your neck, the sweet smell of almost-ripe melons growing on your farm. The rhythmic sound of trees swaying with the wind.

The odd sound of a twig snapping is enough to pull you out of your reverie. 

Your gaze snaps to the side, past your mailbox and to the dark path leading to town. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you see vague impressions of familiar surroundings. You drag your eyes to and fro, scanning.

A head of blond hair flashes through the otherwise dark veil of night, lamplight catching the brilliant golden hues of it. Doubting your eyes you furrow your brow; squinting your eyes, shifting on the porch steps, aiming to get a clearer look. Your mug is forgotten on your lap.

The figure shifts, tilting their head upwards and towards your direction. Then blue eyes lock with yours, the warm light of your porch lantern illuminating his expression. Recognition dawns on your face—

“Sam?”

Sam stops mid-step, face contorting into shock that outdoes your own. He flails, struggling with his words as to why in the world he’s caught on your farm in the wee hours of the night.

Both of you freeze, staring at each other in silence. Your fingers tighten then loosen around your mug. A tight line is made out of your lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“It’s not what you think!” he holds his hands up in immediate surrender. “I was walking, and—and, my mind was blank. I just followed the path, I swear.”

You blink, once then twice. “Sam—”

“And–and,” he blabbers, “I guess… your farm was the best bet… The safest.”

That eases the nervous pitter-patter of your heart. It’s rare you get anyone on the farm aside from Lewis this late. You’re relieved, perplexed by his skittish behavior. It goes against what you already know about him. 

Your eyes crinkle whilst you squint up at him, giving him a once-over. Like this, he reminds you of a teenager caught red-handed, eyes practically bulging out of his head with anxiousness.

An amused chuckle slips past your lips before you register it, smiling. “Sam. Can I speak?”

Sam turns back to face you, finally still. It gives you a clearer look at his appearance. Wild flaxen locks are tapered down by the beanie shoved over his head. His shirt is inside out, hanging awkwardly on his frame. He looks like he just rolled out of bed. 

“Oh—oh yeah… my bad.”

A hand goes to pick back up your mug. “You’re good.” You take a sip of your tea. “Plus, I’m not bothered.”

“Oh…” Relief lets his shoulders go lax with a puffed breath. Then he looks back at you, conflicted on his face. “Hang on...You think me walking into your private property is—nothing?”

You snort. “You’re the last person I’d think would be worried about that.”

Sam paces, rocking back and forth on his heels, sporting a grim frown on his face. His gaze drops back down to the path, kicking at the pebbles. You wince internally; he doesn’t seem in good enough shape for jokes. It tugs at your heartstrings, a deep sigh pulled from your mouth and out into the humid air.

“Kidding. But it’s really no biggie.” you wave off. “Come by whenever. I’m always restless during the summer.”

He stares, breathing uneven and nervous. “Seriously?”

You nod, unusually calm in the face of his supposed trespassing. “It’s a me problem. It’s too humid to sleep comfortably. I even get more tired once I wake—”

“No, I mean,” he interjects, eyes wide. “I can come over? Anytime?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, rolling the muscles in your shoulders. “I’d love your company.”

“But what if you’re busy?”

“You’ll have to help me in the fields, then.” you tease, eyes crinkling. “You’ve got good legs for it already.”

A grin cuts through the grim lines of his face, “Are you 100% sure?”

You nod, eagerly. “Mhm.”

“Ah,” he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “That’s good. Super good. I wanted… well, I was kinda hoping to see you too.”

“Well now you’ve seen me.”

“Yeah, I’m glad. But ugh—I dunno, I guess my head’s a little messed up right now.” He runs a hand over his face, a frustrated groan along with it. 

You watch him. There is never a part of him that keeps still, even now. 

Maybe that’s why the words seem to come out so naturally when you’re with Sam. The restlessness—always grasping, bouncing, and shifting. “D’ya wanna come inside? Maybe it could help.”

“Yes, yeah. I want to.” he replies, instantly but then he double takes, checking in with you. “Can I?”

“I invited you too,” you laugh, pulling yourself up. “Calm down Sam, you’re fine.”

“Come in,” you call, pushing open your door. You do not turn and wait for him, traveling through the dark with the familiarity one has only in their own home. 

You hear him pulling off his shoes by the doorway, then the padding of his feet trailing after yours.

Humming, you switch on your lamplight, propping it up on your kitchen table, pulling the chair back for Sam to sit in. You set your mug down on the opposite side.

The cabinet creaks when you swing it open, revealing your countless containers of seasonings and spices collected over the seasons. The rich smell of all of it mingling together wafts through your nose. 

A pack of apple cider bottles stands by the cinnamon sticks, a welcome gift from months ago you haven’t gotten into yet. 

You tilt your head back to glance at him, finding him sitting statue-still in your chair, then turn back to your cabinet.

“I have some apple cider, you want some?”

His eyes snap to yours, “Oh, yeah.”

Nodding, you tiptoe, grasping the glass bottle by the neck from the far end of the cabinet. 

You sit the bottle down on the counter, popping off the cap with the flat edge of a knife. The cider fizzes, bubbling up until the neck then reducing. The sharp fruity scent of carbonation and apple mingles with the humid air. Sam takes it from your outstretched hand with a murmured ‘thanks’.

You sit opposite him. With your legs pulled up to your chest, you wiggle in your seat, leaning your cheek against your knees. Your eyes low as you cradle your own drink in your hands. Sam takes slow sips of the cider, the bubbles painting the edges of his lips then fizzing away. 

It feels natural to watch him like this, like all normal neighborly decorum has flown out the window, making room for this—whatever this silent companionship may bring. 

Curious, you break the veil of silence. “So what brings you here?”

Sam runs his tongue over his bottom lip, catching the stray drop of apple cider by the corner. His gaze goes faraway, eyebrows furrowing automatically without him aware. He’s silent as he thinks over your question, face contorting.

“Just—something at home, I guess. I wanted a breather.”

You swirl the string of your teabag, looking up from under your lashes. “Family stuff?”

“...Yeah, family stuff.”

You hum, voice low. You have a faint idea on what he’s talking about. Sam’s father, Kent, has been having a difficult time adjusting back to civilian life after being discharged—you heard. 

Your eyes track over his form, his shoulder hunched and lower than you’ve ever seen them. Under the low light of your kitchen table, you pinpoint the signs of weariness marking his face—eye bags under his eyes and a perpetual wrinkle in his brow deep enough you see the shadow of it under his mess of hair. 

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t feel like it,” you simply say. 

You look out the windows, eyes tracking the swirling the flickering lights of lightning bugs outside. Gaze low as you stew in silence. Your fingers tap idly at the table. You feel calmer, sleepier. That persistent buzzing under your skin dissipating into the boneless way you sit. 

There will be more sticky summer nights like these, you’re sure. Maybe he’ll share what’s on his mind then but right now, you’re quite content with the silence. It cradles you like a refreshingly cool gust of air, tapering the heated expanse of your skin. 

“Maybe next time,” Sam murmurs, staring into the steaming cup. “When I come over again.”

A smile unfurls on your lips when he raises his head to look at you. “When you come over again.”