fast-times-in-the-impala:

Requested: no

TW: dicks in college, fluff

Summary: In a world where the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your wrist, yours is blank. 

Although they would never say it, your parents were worried that your right wrist remained blank well past your 13th birthday. You were indifferent, life was more than just someone you were supposed to be with. A strong, young woman like yourself didn’t need to be defined by someone else. 

You went about your life, moving to the city for school and throwing yourself into new studies and hobbies. A small friend group emerged of you and other blanks in your housing hall. Life was easier with blanks, careless and free. 

But your friend group was small and you all never interacted with more people in your dorm or campus. Heading to the library, you wrapped your arms around you. The weather was changing, it was that beautiful time between Summer and fall when a flannel and beanie would be sufficient. 

Among all the students, you blended in: small and unseen. One ear of your kitty beanie flopped over as you stood in line for coffee before taking your usual spot. You ordered your hazelnut coffee and scampered off to your corner, away from it all. 

The anxiety was raging for Sam on the other side of the library. His heart was racing as he tried focusing on the print in front of him. He couldn’t though, the vibrations of heavy, athletic food prints shocked his body. A feral whine left his lips as a group of frat guys mocked him with poor attempts at signing. One stared at the hearing dog by his feet, crouching down to entice him.

Sam started to jump up, but stopped when a small girl in a kitten beanie and red plaid shirt tapped on the shoulder of the frat boy. He turned a smirk on his face that slowly faded. “I don’t really know who you think you are, but I have a paper due in my psych class and I think you’re going to be the subject of it: Entitled Dickbags who think mocking people for who they are and playing with on duty service dogs is funny.” 

Sam glanced to his wrist, hoping you’d say what was there. The frats eventually left as you threatened to pour your hot coffee on them. You glanced up at Sam shyly, mouth slightly a gap as you took in his eyes. “They look like my coffee.” Heat flushed your cheeks as Sam grew into a wide smile, shoving his wrist out to you. 

Written on his wrist was “they look like my coffee”. Wheels started turning and clicking as you realized you weren’t blank. If you weren’t blank, then maybe your friends weren’t either. Your eyes started to water as you nervously adjusted your bag. Sam reached out softly, taking your bag and putting it at the spot beside him. His thumbs reached up to wipe your eyes. 

Slowly you brought your hand up to sign out your name. It was Sam’s turn to get emotional and the tall young man folded himself over onto you, hugging you tightly, his nose brushing your beanie.

He signed out his name and you mouthed it, testing it. “Sam Winchester.”