The universe is a pan dimensional projection. From a single point, to two dimensions then three, four and into infinity. The origin is this one point. This single point gives rise to all other things. This point does not occupy space. It does not float in space space and time are mere projections. It is like our reality. We cannot see the very small nor can we see the very large. We only perceive, even with our scientific instruments a very narrow slice of the electromagnetic spectrum. Entire universes could occupy this same space with us and yet be entirely invisible.
Likewise we can only perceive a narrow band of time. Anybody who has ever tried to swat a fly can see that to them we are slow lumbering things. imagine creatures who moved so quickly through time that to them we were permanent fixtures like mountains are to us. Thousands of generations of these beings could live and die in a second. They would not even see us as living creatures.
There is something at the very end of this pan-dimensional tunnel of existence. I cannot imagine a being anything a like human being yet I sense a dreamer.
Means something to who? You had a career, Dad, before the third comic book movie. Before people started to forget who was inside that bird costume. You are doing a play based on a book that was written sixty years ago for a thousand rich old white people whose only real concern is gonna be where they go to have their cake and coffee when it’s over. No one gives a shit but you! And let’s face it, Dad, you are not doing this for the sake of art - you are doing this because you want to feel relevant again. Well, guess what - there is an entire world out there where people fight to be relevant every single day and you act like it doesn’t exist. Things are happening in a place that you ignore, a place that - by the way - has already forgotten about you. I mean, who the fuck are you? You hate bloggers, you mock Twitter, you don’t even have a Facebook page. You’re the one who doesn’t exist! You’re doing this because you’re scared to death - like the rest of us - that you don’t matter. And you know what? You’re right. You don’t. It’s not important, okay? You’re not important. Get used to it.
Request: Ugh the selectively mute!reader x Sam was too cute. I might just have to ask for a sequel, if you’re willing.
Request: Heyoooo it’s Monday where I am, and I would like to request a samxreader where Sam and the reader get into a fight, and the reader finds a hotel for the night, which leads to Sam finding her and bringing her flowers and a teddy bear to apologize. Then, they spend the night in the hotel doing cheesy couple things. Thank you!
Request: Helllo!! It’s Monday in Australia and I was wondering if you could do a one-shot with the reader having really bad nightmares?? Thanks!!!
Request: SamxReader, reader looses her mum and she and Sam, who maybe had something in the past, meet up again, and he helps her through it. Smut maybe?
Warnings: Death of reader’s mother, smut
Old papers and files scattered the floor of your mother’s home office. Trash bags were placed strategically throughout the room, ready to be filled. You sat in the center of the room, hastily shoving things in to the bag you’d placed on your lap. Maybe you should’ve been looking through them, maybe you should’ve been checking to see if any of it was important, but at the moment it simply didn’t matter to you. The sooner you got all this crap gone, the sooner you could relax. If you’d have known just how hard this would be, you would’ve put it off, come after the news of your Mother’s death really had time to settle in.
You’d gotten the call a week ago from one of the neighbors, she’d told you your mother had been in a car accident. Apparently when the ambulance arrived the damage to her body had been much too serious to fix. Though her heart was still beating there was simply no way she’d be able to survive. Sure enough, on the ride to the hospital her heart stopped, she arrived D.O.A. It was strange to think your mother, a hunter of ten years, had been taken out by something so utterly normal.
The next item you found getting ready to be shoved in to the trash bag was a photograph, a baby blue picture frame encasing it. You smiled down at it in your hands, seeing the faces of your mom and you smiling back. It was a picture from Halloween when you were five, your mother was dressed in a witch costume, and you as a dinosaur.
You set the photo aside in a ‘keep’ pile, and moved on. The sheer amount of journals and sketchbooks filled with hunting instructions was a bit overwhelming. Though your mother had quit hunting four years ago, when you’d moved away, it seemed she’d kept the information in case it was ever needed. You threw it all in the bag, no one needed to remember those things. One thing caught your eye before it all went in though, a picture from when you were eighteen, a tall boy standing next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders. Sam Winchester.
Back when you and your mother were both still hunting, you’d met a man named John Winchester and his two sons, Sam and Dean. You’d been working on a case involving a vengeful spirit, and things seemed to go smoother with them around. It’s not like it had anything to do with your massive crush on Sam. Although he was the youngest of the Winchesters, he was also the tallest, and most certainly the nicest. His brother and father were both a bit abrasive, never really wanting to talk things out when it came down to it. He was kinder, softer, but deadly all the same. The three of them had stayed in contact with you and your mom through the entirety of your hunting days. Though they had a mission of their own, they were willing to lend a hand where they could. And it certainly didn’t hurt that you and Sam tended to hook up whenever they were around.
The moment you and Sam started to really talk it was clear you had quite a lot in common. Every time the five of you would work cases together you’d always be sure to get some alone time with him, chatting about your pasts, or futures, something it seemed John was extremely restrictive about. You had been his escape back then. The quick kisses and secret glances had been well hidden from the others, but it never made them mean any less. You had loved him and he had loved you. Saying goodbye to him as you left your home and town behind was one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do, but both of you understood it was the right thing. The hunting life just wasn’t for you, it never had been.
You sighed, shoving the picture in to the trash bag. That was the past, it was time to move on.
By the time you’d managed to go through all of the papers it was creeping up on 7 pm. You had moved all the bags to the trash bin out side and swept the floor. The things which you were keeping were piled neatly on the desk. You thought about staying at a hotel but decided against it, this technically was your house now. You mother left you the house and everything in it considering you were the only real family member she had left.
You took a seat at the kitchen table. It was strange sitting there alone, the memories of eating pancakes and bacon with your mom on days off seemed to vanish. It was just you know. The thought was painful, knowing you’d never see her again, never hear the smile in her voice as she teased you for sleeping in. You didn’t even notice you were crying until there were warm tears dripping on to your arm. Your mother had always been there for you and now she was just gone.
You hadn’t cried all that much in the past few days. Sure the news had crushed you, but it was strange, you hadn’t seen her in a few years since you’d moved, it was like it didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve. It seemed this house was bringing out all sorts of memories and feelings today.
That’s when you heard it. It wasn’t a loud noise, but it was definitely loud enough to hear from downstairs.
“What the hell?” You whispered to yourself. It seemed you were much less alone than you’d originally thought.
With the silent steps of hunter you made your way to the second floor of the house. The moment you reached the top of the steps the noise seemed to stop. You frowned, figuring it had been nothing. As you went to go back down the stairs however it started again, louder this time, the noise easily spreading throughout the house.
You jumped, nearly falling backwards. You grabbed a screwdriver, the only thing you could seem to find as a weapon, and made your way through the hallway. Whatever it was, it seemed to be coming from your old room, so that’s where you went, your screwdriver held out in front of you. The door opened easy and with the first few steps you took it was like walking back in time. Everything was as you left it when you moved, your bed, your old clothes, all of it.
Walking towards the back of the room you closed in on the window, the only place you could think the noise would possibly be coming from. You could just make out a figure beyond the glass, the dark of the night preventing you to see much more than an outline. You undid the lock on the window, pulling it up hesitantly. The figure- you could tell they were a guy now, pushed his way through the small opening, clearly much too large for it.
He stood up straight, and you were able to see his features clearly now. He had to be at least 6'4, shoulder length chestnut hair, hazel eyes, and stubble scattering his jaw and chin.
“Sam,” his name left your lips in a whisper as you stared at him. He looked good. He looked really good.
“Hi Y/N,” He gave you a wide smile, his dimples appearing on his cheeks.
“I… What are you doing here?” You didn’t mean to sound so blunt, but when the guy you’d dated randomly shows up after years of not talking, a girl’s going to have a few questions.
“I heard you were back in town, and about your mom,” He trailed off. The mere mention of her hurt, and you nodded, looking down.
“Yeah, it was a, a car accident,” Your eyes drifted to his, the same ones you stared in to, telling your thoughts and wishes so many years back. “Wait,” A thought crossed your mind. “You said you heard I was in town, sure. But how did you know I’d be here tonight?” He froze up, a sheepish smile making it’s way across his face.
“Well I’ve been… watching out for you,” You smirked.
“So you’ve been stalking me?” He scratched at the back of his neck.
“N-no, I’ve been looking around to see when you’d get here,” You laughed.
“Okay, fine,” You looked behind him, gesturing to the window. “But why the window? There is a door you know,” He followed your gaze, moving to close the window and lock it.
“I don’t know, I guess old habits die hard,” You smiled fondly at the memories of him climbing on to the slope of your roof, tapping on the window in the night. Your mom loved Sam, but if she’d known he was spending the night, she would have had his had on a platter. He looked towards your hand, spotting the screwdriver.
“That’s what you brought for self defense,” He raised an eyebrow and you gave a shrug.
“It was the only thing I could find,” He chuckled.
“Glad I came then, looks like you’re in need of extra protection,” You rolled your eyes.
“So what are you doing here anyway, other than coming to visit? It doesn’t seem like a Winchester to drop by out of the blue, you must have some reason to be in the area,” You could see him stiffen up slightly at your question.
“I just wanted to check in, making sure you were doing okay, you know with everything,” He was clearly lying, and you knew it. You nodded along anyway though, figuring whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it. You made your way towards the door, setting the screwdriver on the nightstand as you went.
“You coming?” Turning back around you could see Sam still standing where he had been.
“Where are we going?” He followed along behind you.
“To the magical place where food comes from.”
“So the kitchen?”
After nearly cutting off three of your fingers in an attempt to open the packaging of a frozen pizza, and almost setting the stove on fire due to you not-so-great cooking skills, you and Sam both had a plate with only mildly burnt pizza.
You grimaced at the crunching noise it made as you bit down, and looked over to Sam, who seemed had no problem with the pizza. The room was silent apart from the noises of chewing, no words being said. With anyone else it would likely seem awkward, but with Sam it seemed fine. Silence was comfortable with Sam, no words needing to be exchanged.
When you had both eaten what you could, you dumped the remains in to the trashcan and moved your plates to the sink. It was strange, standing there as you turned on the faucet, Sam coming up beside you to grab a drying towel. It brought you back to when you were eight, sitting on the counter as your mother washed the dishes, and you dried them, singing some Beatles song horribly off key. Her favorite had always been Here Comes The Sun, it was short, and she knew all the lyrics, so the two of you would hold out one of the big cooking spoons and belt out the lyrics in to it.
Reaching for the washcloth seemed ten times harder than it should have been as your walls slowly chipped away, every memory another swing from a pickax. Your mother was gone and you were here, every single move an effort to not break down. It was too much, unhealthy even, and you knew if you let it build up it would only get worse, so you let go. You let it all out, hoping that just maybe it would relieve some of the pain. Gripping on to the edge of the sink, you let the tears roll down your cheeks, sobs wracking your body.
Arms wrapped their way around you, pulling you in to a large, warm chest. It was nice, having someone there to hold you, especially that someone being Sam. He would never rush anything, never make you talk when you didn’t want to, but no matter what he would be there as long as you needed him. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hands gently smoothing down your hair. The two of you stayed like that for a while, standing in the kitchen, wrapped in each other, even once you’d calmed down.
When you finally did pull back, his eyes stayed on you, his gaze not one of pity, but only of concern. That was something great about Sam, he never looked at people like wounded animals, he never thought of them as broken, he merely saw them as what they were, he looked at them knowing they were capable of being fixed, and you loved him for that. You loved him for everything.
And just like that, you were seventeen again, standing on you tiptoes in front of Sam Winchester, your lips brushing against his. Except now, you weren’t stealing kisses after hunts, before you parted ways. Now it was just the two of you, free to be with each other in an empty house which was now only yours.
Sam smiled against your lips, his hand moving down to squeeze at your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his down closer to deepen the kiss. There was no fight for dominance, you gladly let him take control, moaning against his mouth as his tongue mapped out your every curve and turn. It could’ve been thirty years since you’d last seen each other, time didn’t matter, he would always remember the way you tasted and felt.
You raked your hands through Sam’s hair and he lifted you gently, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. Somehow he managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall to your room with out falling. It’s not like you needed privacy or anything, there was no one to barge in anyway, but it seemed that it brought some sort of normalcy to be somewhere you’d gone so many times in the past.
You pulled off your shirt quickly the moment you hit the bed, and you watched as he did the same, moving to unclasp your bra. Quickly wiggling out of your pants, you backed yourself up, moving until you lay against the pillows. Sam hovered above you, his hands at your sides so he could stay up as he pressed kissing down your chest and stomach, stopping when he reached your hips. Hooking his thumbs beneath the band of your underwear he pulled them off in one swift movement, tossing them carelessly to the side.
He grinned up at you from between your legs and pressed feather-light kisses to the inside of your thighs, his warm breath moving across your center. You let out a small whimper and pressed yourself closer to him. He ran his tongue between your folds, earning a moan from you. Your eyes fluttered shut, weaving your fingers in to his long hair, the soft strands tangling around your fingers.
He moved his lips around your clit, replacing his tongue with two long fingers, pressing them in to you. You bucked slightly against his fingers, your spare hand moving to grip at the sheets. It wasn’t long before you felt that all too familiar coil building in your stomach. He pressed his teeth to your clit gently and curled his fingers inside you, skillfully hitting your g spot, and with that you were gone, yelling his name between moans. He lifted his head up from between your legs, his chin wet with your juices as he smiled at you.
Crawling his way back to eye level, he dragged his hands down your sides, making you shiver. His lips connected with yours and you could taste yourself on his mouth, your fingers sliding down his chest until they reached his belt, undoing it as quickly as a possible.
“God, I missed this,” He sighed against you, moving his lips against your neck, sucking extremely visible hickeys against your collar bone.
“Me too,” You panted, helping him shimmy out of his jeans. Tossing them to the side, you moved your hand beneath the waist band of his boxers, gripping around his erection.
“Wait,” He grunted. You stopped, looking up at him. “Condom?” You nodded, leaning across the bed to reach your nightstand. Grabbing the little silver wrapper from the drawer you tossed it to him.
“Lucky no one’s touched my room in forever,” He chuckled, rolling it on.
You moved so you were straddling him, pushing down on him until you were sat fully in his lap. He pushed your hair back from your shoulders, his finger tips trailing down your sides until they dug in to your hips. You were fairly sure you’d have bruises in the morning, but in all honesty, you really didn’t care. You went slow at first, still adjusting to his size, but started to speed up until you were bouncing in his lap. His hands moved from your hips to the small of your back, carefully moving you so you laying against the pillows again. He moved one of your legs to wrap around his waist, getting better leverage as he continued to pound in to you.
It wasn’t long until you felt that coil building up once again, your breaths becoming quicker.
“Sam- I’m-” Somehow even with your scrambled words he understood you, placing a quick kiss to your lips.
“Come for me, Baby,"That was all it took, you dug your nails in to his back, his name leaving your lips in a cry. Your legs tightened around his waist, your vision going white. You could feel him twitch inside you, coming as you did.
"Holy shit,” He panted, pulling out, rolling on to his side next to you.
“That was amazing,” You grinned, capturing his lips with yours.
You lay in the dark, one of Sam’s arms holding you against him, the other draped across your stomach, his finger intertwined with your own.
“Sam?” Your voice was quiet.
“Yeah?” He brushed the hair from your face, pushing it behind your shoulder.
“Where’s Dean? Not that I’m complaining, but why are you here alone?"He sighed, the subject clearly not one he wanted to dwell on.
"He’s gone, Y/N,” Gone. You repeated the word in your head a few times. You knew what he meant by it. He didn’t mean he was 'off to Florida’ gone. He meant he was gone for good, just like your mother. You decided to change the subject.
“How long are you staying for?"You moved impossibly closer to him, tucking your head in to his neck.
"However long you want me here,” You smiled, stretching your neck to kiss him quickly.
“I love you, Sam,” You whispered, your grip on his hand tightening.
“I love you too, Y/N,” He smiled, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes, wrapped safely in Sam’s arms, falling asleep easily. You were in love, and it was beautiful.