Arboreal Dreams - Part 9
Summary: In a curious case of benevolent dryads, as thanks for sparing their lives, Sam, Dean and Castiel are gifted with a small but precious parcel: you.
Word count: 2500ish
Pairing: Eventual polyamorous Castiel x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings/tropes: Reference to past non-con/dubcon (nothing explicit and nothing involving reader but please take note) UN-BETED, Size-difference (reader is like Thumbelina for the first few parts but she is NOT underage), creature fic, canon-level violence, UST and eventual graphic smut.
A/N: Basically. Shit. Goes. Down. I’m sorry…:( Also, @angel–radio, tagging for you! ^^
Sam and Dean were dressed up as security guards this time and you were in casuals so you could easily pass off as a student if need be. You watched the surveillance of the Atkinson home on Sam’s laptop and so far no one had come or gone. Devlin Atkinson had stepped out to throw the trash but that was about it. On occasion someone would pass by a window carrying a plate or a bowl but for the most part things were quiet and you began to wonder whether he really was just a creep.
“That’s the prof,” Dean noted quietly, tilting his head towards Professor Jordan Atkinson, who looked just like the rest of his siblings: tall, white, a face that was generally accepted as good-looking – although you thought Castiel, Sam and Dean were far better looking – and well-groomed.
He looked understandably tired and his shoulders came up to his ears, as if to ward away from the cold but he looked too much like Max Atkinson for you to truly sympathize in any manner or form.
“How’s it going back at the house?” Sam asked.
You shook your head. “Nothing’s been happening. Clair’s in the kitchen cooking and the others are somewhere throughout the house. No one’s left. Through the front anyway.”
“Wish we had more time to drop a mic in there too.”
“Too many people,” you said, shaking your head.
“Heads up,” Dean said suddenly, leaning forward, and you saw a girl run out of the building, calling for the professor.
He turned around, startled, and the girl – a student – handed him a file. He looked like he was thanking her and she shook her head. The two talked for a little bit before she waved and walked back inside. Atkinson opened his bag and put the file inside and then continued to walk back.
Frowning, you looked down just in time to see the screen flicker and go fuzzy for a moment. “What’s…?”