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Concerts And Piggy-Back Rides (Sam X Reader)
"We're never going to make it in time!" You yelled, trying to keep up with Sam's fast pace.
"Yes we will, come on!" He replied and grasped your hand, pulling you along.
Sam had bought you tickets to go see your favorite band performing in California for the first time ever. It was located about 2 miles off of campus, right after class. Knowing traffic would suck, you and Sam decided to walk to the performance. Fresh out of class and rushing to get to the concert within 10 minutes, you realized how lucky Sam was to have such long legs.
You stumbled quite a bit, ruining the toe of your shoes. Sam was practically dragging you by now. How you wished you signed up for the cross country team.
"Sammy, I can't keep up!" You informed, ripping away from his grip and placing your hands on your knees to catch your breath.
You heard the Winchester mumble something before your looked to see him crouching down, his arms extended behind his back.
You looked at him puzzled for a minute before he spoke
Love me some pie (Deanxreader)It had been a long day of hunting with the Winchesters again, and you had finally convinced them to take a break, because, let's face it, you were all half asleep anyway.
You clumsily stumbled into the motel room you were sharing with Dean and Sam, ready to jump onto the first bed, but halted when you opened the door.
There where only two beds.
"______, get outta the way." mumbled Dean, as he tried to push past you into the room, but soon stopped as well when he realised the situation they were in.
You soon came to your senses and walked into the room, claiming the bed nearest to the door as your own.
"Looks like You and Sammy are gonna have to share." You smiled to Sam as you dumped your bag down.
"But ________..." Dean whined. "I had to share with him last time, and you know how that ended."
You laughed as you remembered waking up in the middle of the night to the Winchester brothers arguing about there not being enough space in the bed for the both of them.
"Tough shit, he's your br
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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