**revised**
Hey all. This is my first fan fiction attempt. I'm literally giving you all I got at this point. It's still racking around in my brain with how things are going to play out. The whole concept came to me because I have a thing for multiple men stories. Or as the romance world calls it "male harem". Kinda sounds demeaning if ya ask me. It's not all about their "romance". There's mystery too. I'm pretty busy but I tend to wander throughout the day to think about all the stories I think up which causes me to write a lot. Anywho, I'm just always looking for stories with both Sam and Dean being with someone so here ya go! Read and review!
I own nothing but my OCs. So far that just means Ryder and Grace. Enjoy! :D
Green eyes. A warm smile. Tousled hair you could stroke till your fingers bled. Chiseled features. A toothy grin. Gracie Gregory had been having dreams of these ominous men more often than was healthy. It would always start so pleasant. She'd drift off to sleep and after a while she'd get flashes of these beyond gorgeous men. The faces would send shivers through her body. Then she'd see darkness. Burning darkness. Her Uncle's face would appear before her, laughing. She would try to question him. Nothing would come out of her mouth. She'd scream with such might she'd feel dizzy. She never got to understand the meaning of it.
Who were these men? Where'd they go? Why is Uncle there?
Their comforting presence would simply vanish and an aching coldness would shoot through her at the sight of her Uncle's audacious, yet terrifying smile.
Gracie bolts up from her bed, breathing heavily. She holds a hand to her chest as she notices a sheen of sweat coating her body. She holds her arms out and sighs.
Guess I'll take another shower tomorrow. She sighs to herself.
She blows her long white blonde hair out of her naturally red rimmed eyes. Her light blue eyes pop from them in a fire and ice combination. They've always been that way. Doctors say it could have been a reaction to a chemical as a child. It didn't bother Gracie much anyway.
Quickly hopping down from her king-sized bed, she tiptoes out of her room and into the hallway. The surrounding walls are glittered with famous artworks and dazzling gold wallpaper. Not that Gracie paid much attention to these things. She had one thing on her mind at the moment. Plus, she always found the paintings and wallpaper to be too gaudy.
She scampered down the large billowing white marble staircase and made a sudden abrupt turn to the kitchen, using the banister as support to twirl herself towards the kitchen. She sets sights on her destination. The fridge. Target locked! She thinks to herself with a smile. God I'm a nerd. She rolls her eyes at herself. Opening the almost three foot wide fridge door with a huff she spots a small juice box. Just what I need. She grabs the orange box of fruit punch and closes the door.
"Gigi." A deep voice rumbles through the room. Gracie jumps and the juice box goes flying. She looks up to see her adopted cousin's strong frame next to her.
"Ryder! You made me drop my drink!" Gracie whisper yells to the almost 6'3" figure in front of her. She rushes over and picks up the juice box around the corner of the counter only to find a large dent in it. Gracie's shoulders gave in with a soft groan. She turns around swiftly only to find herself running into Ryder. She lets out a squeak as her nose bumps right into Ryder's chest. She backs up a step only to find a brand new juice box in his hand. He grins down at her wickedly.
"Need this, lovely?" He asks sympathetically in his deep timbered voice.
She sets the other dilapidated box on the counter and snatches the new box out of his calloused hands defiantly stabbing the straw in. She sends daggers at him through her light blue eyes while taking a sip. Still grinning, he waves a hand through his dark brown locks, causing the medium length the curl down across his forehead.
"Someone needs a haircut, cousin." She holds up a finger and bats at a fallen lock. He smiles at her abashed while crossing his muscular arms.
"What on earth are you doing up?" He asks, sidestepping her remark.
She shrugs and sips the last of her juice up. She makes a satisfied sound and steps to the trash, throwing the box away.
"Couldn't sleep well enough. Got thirsty," her eyes glittered up at him, "What are you doing up?"
He smiles taking in her attire of an oversized Lion King t-shirt and long porcelain legs.
"Well, Little Lion," he winks at her, "I was out for a jog. Clearing my muddled head so to speak."
She raises an eyebrow at him and glances down over his outfit of jogging pants and gray muscle shirt. "No wonder you're all nasty sweaty and stuff."
Ryder lets out a deep chuckle at her remark. "How eloquent of you. Even with proper speech classes, Father could never get you to speak like he wanted." He held out a hand and made sudden contact with the top of her head, running his fingers through to her nape. He pulled back on her hair almost sharply and she let out a surprised whimper. Her head now tipped back staring up at him, he took a step closer with eyes burning down at her in a fiery stare.
"Were you jogging also?" He asked, glancing up at her damp nearly translucent hair.
Gracie peeks up to her hair, letting her fingers play at the end on her lengthy t-shirt nervously. She looks back into his deep eyes. "I uh…had a bad dream."
His eyes flicker with question as he releases her hair from his hand. He raises his other and they drift lower down her body. Ryder grips her hips roughly, sweeping underneath the t-shirt and lifts her up. She gasps at the feeling of his calloused hands on her bare skin. He sets her down with a grunt and she shivers at the feeling of the cool granite on her legs and bum. She leans forward on her hands in between her legs and gazes across at Ryder. They were almost the same height now.
He smiles and hops up next to her, leaning back on his arms with one behind her back.
"Tell me about it, lovely," he says to her softly, leaning next to her ear, "You're safe now."
She looks over at him and tries to put into words what she saw.
"Well, I'm not really sure what to call it," she exclaims while twirling a stray lock of her hair. She stares down at the intricate blue and brown marble flooring.
"Explain it to me," Ryder says tenderly as he grabs her busy hand and gives it a squeeze as he rests the pairing between them.
"Okay. Well," Gracie clears her throat, "I see these men. Beautiful men. The kind I've never actually laid eyes on. For some reason, Ryder, they comfort me. I can feel it. Pulsing through me as I lay there."
Gracie stares off while uttering, "And then they disappear."
He drops her hand and grasps her by the sides of her arms, twisting her body towards him.
Gracie intakes her breath and stares up at him, saying with an ominous voice, "But that's not all."
Ryder's eyes bored into Gracie's and he grabs her jaw by his hand with bruising force as his other hand continues to grip her left arm even tighter.
"Tell me Gracie. Now," he commanded.
Gracie whimpers in pain from his fingertips. It only fueled his need for the truth. She hated when her cousin got this way. He must be low on sleep. He can be so gentle other times.
She grasped onto his arm with her hand, trying to pull him back from her face. In defeat she yells in a harsh whisper, "It was Uncle! He would take the mysterious men away and give me the most devilish smile."
Ryder drops her face suddenly and looks away, swearing under his breath. "I never thought he was serious."
She looked at him with worry in her eyes. "Please. Tell me what it means." Grace clutched onto his side, getting up on her knees. The edges of her big t-shirt fluttering her thighs like tiny butterflies.
He sighed as though his very breath was tiresome. "Gracie love. Tomorrow is your 18th birthday. Is it not?"
Her brow furrowed. "Y-yes," she said with a shaky breath.
"He has plans for you. You and I both. You're his saving Grace he says. Father will use you as he pleases," he grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles, "These plans even I can't protect you from."
Grace pulled her hand from his. "What plans? What's he going to do?"
Ryder sighs and looks at the wall with a troubled stare. "They aren't my plans to tell, Gigi."
That nickname. He only says it when he wants me to listen.
He hops down from the counter, brushes off his pants. "Just listen to him. He only wants what's best for us."
"No, Ryder. It's only what's best for him."
How'd ya like it? Any good? Total slop? It's a work in progress! Read and review! Keep in mind, writers have feelings too. :) I'm also thinking of translating the story to other languages. Larger words are tricky for me though so perhaps after I've built up the story more. There's really nothing set in stone at this point. Any French, Spanish, and Greek readers may just have to wait :(
If you wanna contact me with questions or ideas or even if ya just wanna chat about spn, my tumblr is agglemou! I'm always on tumblr...