fannishliss

I spent a week fighting the flu and now I'm mostly better.

Here is a drabble about something Sam loves. I'll be adding more drabbles to this page I hope!


~ meditation rug ~

After the fire, Sam had no clue how long Dean’s hunting trip was gonna take. The Moores went through her things and Sam stored what was left, what was singed, what was his. (John left lockers everywhere.)

Now, Sam’s gotten some of that life back. Art books, philosophy journals, crooked mugs with Jess’s initials scratched into the bottom, the meditation rug she embroidered with the sigils Sam compulsively marked around every door he’d ever slept behind. The rug smells a little like soot, but it’s soft against the bunker’s floor. Sam breathes deep and even, heart full of quiet gratitude.

~~~
I think we're supposed to keep adding drabbles to the same page, because spam!  but anyway I had time for a second one:

~panties~

Dean’s shirt hung open, unbuttoned, and the pink silk panties didn’t really fit.

“Bad boy, getting my present all wet! Take your punishment, and try to be a good boy this time.”

Rhonda’s hand was soft and small, but she knew how to make Dean feel it.

Like he’d been bad.

Like he could be good.

Like she was in control.

Like he was safe, for just one night.

Her stinging hand, his aching cock, all the monsters in the world and none of them his problem, not right then, just some nice pink panties and someone else in charge.