#Jared Padalecki x Reader angst

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[deanwinchestersbabygirll]

Protective~ Dean Winchester imagine

Warnings// angst, fluff and cock blocking

lil summery// just a lil cutesy protective Dean Winchester

*REPOST FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT*

Dean x Reader

Word count// 1400

(gif from Pinterest)

You Sam and Dean had just finished a pretty rough ghoul hunt, once you guys had all showered the remnants of the night, dean suggested you guys head out for a few drinks to celebrate, once you got to the bar Dean and you slide into a booth, deans arm wrapping around your shoulders pulling you into his side “you get the first round Sammy” Dean said smirking at his brother, Sam rolled his eyes “fine but you’re next” he said walking to the bar

“So how you feeling after you’re first ghoul sweetheart” you looked up at your boyfriend “well I’ve gotta say I won’t be chasing one for a very long time, much prefer a simple salt and burn” Dean chuckled kissing the side of your head, “alright beers are severed” Sam said sitting down with the drinks “thanks Sammy” you said taking a drink out the bottle

You and the guys were having a great time talking about passed hunts before you’d met them “he just looked at me all upset and said ‘I lost my shoe’ all because he lost the damn rabbits foot” Dean laughed finishing his second beer, “alright my round boys just another beer?”you questioned getting up “yeah thanks Y/N” Sam said “yeah me too thank you sweetheart” you hooded moving to the slightly crowded bar you quickly got the bar tenders attention “hi three beers please” the man nodded “that’ll be 12 bucks gorgeous” he said placing three beers in front of you, you nodded handing him a 20 dollar bill, the bar tender went to get your change leaving you standing for a few minutes

“what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a place like this” a man grumbled out from one of the bar stools, he looked to be a drunk creep no younger than mid 50s “I’m here with my boyfriend and friend” you said back hoping he’d back off at the boyfriend comment “ah bet your boyfriend doesn’t treat you like I would” the man said moving closer to you “look buddy I’m not interested I’m in a relationship” he didn’t seem too happy with that “you better watch yourself you bitch I’m giving you a choice the only thing you should be saying is yes sir, because that’s the only damn thing you’ll be saying when I’m pounding you in front of your little boyfriend you slut!” he spat out, “is there a problem here miss?” The bartender asked returning with your change “no everything’s fine thanks” you said grabbing the change stuffing it in your pocket before taking the beers back to the winchesters

“Hey sweetheart everything good? You were gone a while” Dean said grabbing his beer and pulling you back to your place at his side “yeah fine just waiting for my change” you answered quietly, you could see the man from the bar staring at you his hand holding his glass tightly in his grasp as he wouldn’t break eye contact “I’m gonna head back to the motel after this one guys I’m pretty tired” you said feeling uncomfortable either the stares the man wa giving you, dean nodded “yeah I think we’ll all head out then, you good with that Sam?” Dean questioned, Sam nodded

Once you guys finished your drinks you made your way to the exit, from the corner of your eye you seen the man get up, following your trail to the exit, starting to feel scared you grabbed deans hand tight, Dean turned to look at you concerned “you okay Y/N? You hands really sweaty” you nodded to answer him too nervous to even speak, you thought the night air would make you feel better but knowing the man was following behind was just making your feel sick, before you could get into baby dean stopping you, both hands on your arms as he looked at you “sweetheart my job is lying for a living, I know somethings bothering you and I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what it is” Dean asked alerting Sam “what’s going on?”

Sighing you looked behind the brothers to find the man staring at you from behind a car “there was a guy at the bar, he freaked me out a little bit I didn’t care too much until he sat staring at me for the last hour so I wanted to leave but he followed us out here” you said, your heart pounding in your chest, Dean got an angry look on his face as he turned searching the parking lot “where the hell is he!” Dean moved to look around finding him quickly, Dean stormed over “hey! The hell do you want jackass? You think you can harass my girlfriend I wouldn’t find out” Dean grabbed the man by his shirt “not my fault she’s a whore man, just wanted a little taste of her sweet p-”Dean didn’t let him finish his sentence before he was released punching him in the face “my nose!” The man yelped but dean wasn’t done yet, Sam was holding you in a hug blocking the fight from your eyes

Once dean was done teaching the man a lesson in how to respect women he walked back over to you and sam “alright he’s down, let’s get back to the motel” Dean said getting in the drivers seat. Once you guys made it back to the motel you followed the brothers back to the room, Sam went into the bathroom leaving you and Dean alone

sighing dean sat on the bed you two would be sharing, he started to wrap his bloody knuckles you let out a shaky breath before sitting beside him and taking his hand “I got it” you said taking out the rubbing alcohol and rubbing it on his wounds, Dean flinched slightly at the sting “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asked softly you looked up giving him a small smile “I just didn’t want to bother you, I just didn’t realise how big a creep the guy was till he followed us out” dean nodded “sweetheart if someone or something is ever bothering you I don’t give a rats ass how by or small, you tell me and I will take care of it” you nodded “yeah I will I’m sorry dean” Dean was shaking his head “you have nothing to be sorry for Y/N you did nothing wrong” you wrapped your arms around deans shoulders pulling him to a hug, we wrapped his own around your waist holding you close to him

You pulled away to give him a small kiss, however a small kiss with Dean was never really just a small kiss, this one being no different as Dean was swiping his to tongue along your bottom lip, you parted your lips allowing dean to explore your mouth, you moaned quietly when dean pushed you slightly to lay back on the bed as he moved to lean on top of you as you continued to make out, deans hand was tugging at the hem of your shirt, and just when you were about to take it off the bathroom door opened, the younger Winchester emerged in his pyjama pants and shirt “seriously!” He yelped turning away

Dean sighed moving to stand up “relax Sammy were decent” you chuckled as you moved to get up and get changed in the bathroom, Dean following close behind “seriously don’t guys I don’t want a repeat of the hunt back in Chicago” you giggled “I promise Sammy we’ll keep it PG” you and Dean changed into your sleepwear, Dean sporting the same as sam, minus the shirt, he found them to be annoying when it got too hot in bed, you in a pair of shorts and deans old led zeppelin shirt

When you both emerged from the bathroom Sam was already tucked in for the night, all lights off minus the one in the bathroom, you and Dean made your way to the bed getting in either side Dean quickly grabbed your waist tugging you close enough so you could rest your head on his bare chest and tangle your legs together “we’re definitely getting our own room next hunt” Dean whispered kissing the top of your head, you chuckled at his remark closing your eyes “whatever you say Winchester”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

lil repost of one of my personal favs from my old account :))

[m3ntally-unstable]

Why is it that everytime I search for a certain thing I GET THE OPPOSITE. I SEARCHED FOR ANGST NOT SMUT, I WANT ANGST. I AKSED FOR SMUT NOT FUCKING FLUFF AND SHIT 😡😡😡😡 please update your system tumblr I beg of you

[jvsont0dd]

Jason Todd dies so often that he might as well be a Winchester

[archiveofvirtue]

RECKLESS ⸻ sam winchester

content / sam winchester x fem!reader, bf!sam, angst, established relationship, sam being overprotective, fighting, lots of blaming each other, mentions of dean being in hell, some fluff, 1.9k words

summary / in which an innocent grocery store run ignites a fire in sam, spiraling him into panic and anger, leading to a heated argument between the two of you fueled by both worry and misunderstanding

You slipped out of the motel room as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake Sam. You had been driving for days, hunting a wendigo near the outskirts of Iowa. But the hunt wasn’t even the hardest part—it was the weight of everything else. Ever since Dean's deal, since he was dragged into Hell, Sam had been on edge, more protective than ever. And you could feel it creeping into every part of your lives.

You glanced at Sam one more time as he lay sprawled on the bed, finally catching up on some sleep. He deserved that. Still, you knew you needed more supplies. You were running low on salt, and in the need of a few essentials Plus, you figured a little food wouldn't hurt.

The grocery store was only ten minutes away, so you grabbed the keys and your bag, telling yourself you’d be quick. On your way inside the store, you checked for your phone—"dang it", you cursed, you must've left it at the motel.

So you quickly breezed through the aisles, grabbing salt, herbs, and a few sandwiches and snacks for Sam. You loaded everything into the car and started heading back, happy to know you’d have Sam’s favorite food waiting for him.

But while you were on your way home, Sam was already panicking, pacing around the motel room.

He’d woken up to find you gone, no note, no message, just your phone lying there. His mind raced through every worst-case scenario. Every minute you were gone, his worry grew until it twisted into anger. Losing so many people did that to a person, and Sam had lost more than enough.

He couldn’t loose you too.

When you finally walked in, expecting Sam to be asleep, you were met by the intense sight of him, eyes locked on you the second you opened the door, and tension radiating off him.

"Where the hell were you?" Sam's voice was filled with frustration and disappointment.

"I... I went to grab some salt from the market. We were almost out," you answered, confused by his reaction. "Why? What's the matter?"

Sam rubbed over his face in frustration, walking toward you. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, as if ensuring you were in one piece. Even though you were back now, his heart was still racing.

"Heck y/n, I woke up and you were just gone. Do you know what that feels like after everything? I thought something bad had happened to you." His voice was shaking with distress.

"I was literally gone for half an hour! I thought you'd be asleep. I didn't want to wake you," you explained, fumbling with your words. "I wanted to be quick in case we needed the salt. It took me longer because there was this huge crash on the highway—"

"Wow, that's a perfect excuse." He cut in. "And you didn't think of a way to call me? Let me know you'd be gone longer? No, no... the only thing on your mind was getting some damn salt."

His words stung, more than you expected. "You need to calm down." you replied, trying to pull yourself together. Was he really so distrustful? "I know I should've told you before leaving, but look at me—I'm fine. Everything's fine."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes. "Goddamn it, I don't care if you're fine right now. It's the principle, y/n. You do shit without thinking, and I can't stand it." He took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "There are so many things that could've happened to you out there. How can you be so careless?"

That hit a nerve, and your frustration bubbled over. "Oh, so you think I can't protect myself? After everything we've been through—after all the times I've saved you and Dean—you think I can't handle something as simple as a grocery run?"

Sam's face darkened. "This isn't about your skills. I know you're a good hunter. But you're reckless, y/n. You don't understand what it's like to see someone you love get torn away from you because of one mistake, one slip-up. And then to wake up and think it's happening again..." His voice broke, some vulnerability showing.

You softened slightly, realizing how deep Sam's fear went. But you weren't going to let him accuse you of being reckless. "I do understand, Sam. I know how much losing Dean broke you. But I'm not him. I'm not going to disappear, but you also can't suffocate me because of it."

"I'm not trying to suffocate you. Fuck, you really don't get it, do you?" Sam's voice rang in your ears, and for a second, he just looked at you with disappointment in his eyes. "Just forget it y/n."

The sudden intensity of his words, the way he yelled, startled you. Sam wasn't the type to lose his temper like this—not with you. Sure, you two had your disagreements, but this was different. He was on edge, and you could tell that this wasn't just about the salt. It was about everything that had been weighing on him since losing Dean.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, seeing his fists clench like that scared you, so the only thing you could do right now was walk away. Your voice was quieter now, the fight draining you. "I'll take a walk, clear my head."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you turned to leave the room. The last thing you wanted was to fight with Sam, especially not like this. But before you could reach the door, you felt his hand gently grasp your arm, pulling you back.

"Wait." His voice was softer now, the anger replaced by guilt.

Sam pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if letting go would somehow mean losing you again. You relaxed into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his arms and the sound of his breathing helped calm you both down.

For a while, neither of you spoke. It was as if both of you needed that quiet, the space to breathe and let the tension resolve. And after a few moments, you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His eyes were softer now, and you could see he felt bad for snapping.

"You know," you said quietly, "I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to worry about losing me every time I step out the door. But you also have to let me breathe, Sam."

Sam let out a long sigh, his hand moving to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I know," he murmured, though his voice still carried the weight of doubt. "I just... after Dean, I've been going nuts. Every hunt, every day, I'm constantly thinking about what could go wrong, what I could lose next. It's like I can't shut it off."

You reached up, cupping his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing gently along the stubble on his jaw. "Sam, I understand. I really do. But you can't live like this—constantly on high alert, constantly afraid. It's not fair to you. And it's not fair to us."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the comfort of your hands on his skin. "I don't know how to stop," he admitted quietly.

"I think it's always going to be there," you said softly. "The fear. But you don't have to let it control you." You paused, searching his face for a moment before continuing. "I'm strong, Sam. I know how to handle myself. And I promise you, if I ever feel like I'm all up in my head, you'll be the first person I call. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

Sam opened his eyes, looking down at you, and for the first time that night, you saw a flicker of relief in his expression. He nodded, though you could tell it wasn't easy for him. "I can try," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking," you whispered, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

For a few more moments, you stayed there in his arms, the tension easing itself. Finally, Sam spoke again, his tone lighter but still a hint of guilt in it. "I guess I owe you for getting the salt."

You chuckled softly, leaning your head back against his chest. "Yeah, you do. I went through a lot of trouble for that salt."

"Next time, maybe wake me up before you leave," he said, a small smile on his lips, “Or at least don't forget your phone."

"Deal," you agreed with a playful grin. "No more disappearing acts. But you have to promise me something, too."

"What's that?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly in curiosity.

"You have to promise to stop worrying so much. At least a little. You're going to give yourself a heart attack at this rate."

Sam chuckled, the sound low and warm in his chest. "I'll do my best," he promised, “but no guarantees.”

You smiled, reaching up to kiss him gently. "I'll take it."

Sam kissed you back, slow and soft. When he pulled away, there was a warmth in his eyes, a quiet appreciation for the way you understood him, even when he didn't always know how to explain himself.

"Come on," you said, tugging him toward the table. "I got your favorite sandwiches, you need to eat."

Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing at the filled grocery bags. But then he let out a sigh and nodded, he definitely needed these sandwiches now.

"Thank you, baby." He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before grabbing the plastic bags and putting everything away.

The room still felt heavy with the weight of what you were both going through, but at least you were in it together. You were safe. He was safe. And for now, everything was okay.

kinda need to fight with Sam just for him to be all soft and cutesy with me after and make up..

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @nuemanfilms @beausling @angelicjackles @sammyluvr @samwinchesterswifu @sampilled @seasons-of-death @starkeysprincess @rubyvhs @deansenvy @ribbonprincess @mxltifxnd0m

[rubyvhs]

day one : lingerie & overstimulation (cordell walker) .ᐟ 18+ fem!reader

Cordell sighs the second he steps into the house, taking off his hat and placing it on the rack. It’s already well past midnight so he doesn’t bother calling out for you or his kids, just walks upstairs to your room, hoping for a quiet night after the shitshow of a day.

And then he sees it. Sees your beautiful figure swinging around as you apply your lip gloss, your nightgown hugging your body so perfectly it made him stop dead in his tracks. Which means you hear him come in.

You jump at the sudden noise and turn back, “oh, god,” you place a hand on your chest with a smile, “cordi, are you crazy? How about you don’t sneak up on a ranger’s girlfriend?” 

He can’t help raising an eyebrow as you place your makeup down and walk over to him. The title sounds like honey on your tongue. His girlfriend. Fuck. “Yeah? Why’s that, darlin’?”

“Just, you know, she could be busy.” You shrug playfully until you finally get to wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him close, “‘missed you today.” And ain’t that the truest thing. It’s been a long day of missed calls, apologizing texts, angry teenagers demanding their dad. And you wanted to do something to calm yourself down.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he smirks, feeling the silk of the night down against his skin, pressing a kiss to your done up hair, “and what’s all this?” He pulls away to spin you around and you let out a laugh.

“Oh, you mean my new set?” You smile, shrugging, “‘s just something I got today. Stella wanted to go to the mall, and there was a really pretty store.”

He looks down at you with a knowing look, suddenly all expressions of tiredness are replaced with lust. “‘M sure it was. Gonna show me what you bought?”

It’s no secret Cordell likes you in white, he’s mentioned it every single time you’ve worn it, and at first you thought he was hunting at something but he was actually being honest, he loves the color on you, says it matches your hair (whatever that means), and that’s how you chose the lace set, the one your display for him as you unwrap the nightgown.

It’s really basic, just a two piece with the intricate lace design on each one, but it’s highly effective the way Cordi’s drinking you in. He looks you up and down before staring into your eyes, “thoughts?”

He leans down urgently to whisper “Gorgeous,” against your lips, pushing you further into the room after slamming the door shut recklessly. You pull away to giggle, hoping the kids are still asleep. Cordi seems to have forgotten all about that. He’s kissing you again, walking back until he hits the bed and sits down, “so beautiful in white, love this, love you.”

He pulls you into his lap, and it seems like he just can’t stop moving his lips hungrily on yours while you’re rocking your hips against him. Cordell’s hands find their way to your waist so he’s moving you and the sudden change causes you to moan against his mouth. “Fuck.”

He changes the position so you’re laying on the bed, your head on the pillow. Once his fixation seems to lessen he moves down to your neck, licking and biting your sensitive skin while you’re running your fingers through his hair like it’ll make him get to the main event. 

He keeps moving down your body, tugging at the bra but not taking it off, running his hands on your waist but not touching below your panties, then he finally gets to your inner thigh and you swear if he doesn’t do something—

Cordi moves the panties to one side, his fingers graze your clit and you arch your back in need. God, oh, fuck, why isn’t he doing anything. “Please, please, Cordi, c’mon.”

“I will, honey, I will.” And just as you’re about tell him lying’s a sin— he abides, his long finger moving to circle your entrance before actually pushing in and your moan takes you both by surprise. “Yeah? You’re so wet for me ‘n I haven’t even done anything. Was this what you wanted, baby girl? Wanted me to come home and find you like this? So fucking pretty, my very own angel.” 

You can’t respond, don’t want to, just need more of him inside you. His fingers, his mouth, anything. “Please.”

“You know I don’t like to keep you waitin’.” He leans down to kiss your lips, your mind’s too hazy to kiss back properly but you try and he finally shoves one more finger into your cunt as you cry out and he swallows your sounds. 

Cordell quickens the pace, his fingers slamming knuckle deep into you and you’re meeting his thrusts with your hips, desperate to come. 

You’ve always been so wet for him, always ready for his fingers, for his cock so he can’t help his growing dick— or ego. Just the sounds coming from you. From your pretty lips. From your pussy.

“Cordi— Cordi, oh god.” You tighten your grip on the bed sheets when his thumb massages your clit, and you have to physically keep from bucking up into it. He’s already going too fast with long, thick fingers pushing into you, hitting you right where you need them, and he knows it too. Knows exactly how to curl his fingers, knows exactly where to kiss and press for you to come undone.

“Please, please, cordi, m’gonna come— ah, cordi—” cordell watches as your orgasm crashes through you and you’re shaking under his touch. He lets you ride it out, his thumb still on your sensitive clit, his careful fingers massaging your sweet spot. Your moans get louder as he doesn’t stop even when you’re completely done. “Cordi— no, no, can’t take it, can’t—”

“You sure, baby girl?” He asks, even if you can tell it isn’t genuine with him still fingering you and your pussy clenching around him almost painfully; he doesn’t care. “‘Cause I think you can take more, right? You gonna be good for me and come again?”

“No, no, no, hurts— ‘s too much,” your hands immediately go to take his off but he holds them down on your stomach, tsking.

“One more, just one more.” And you can’t argue through the bliss and the impending orgasm rushing towards you again, you’re relaxing against Cordi to try and get there faster, chasing the high all over again as he adds another finger.

He leans down to graze his teeth against the unpadded bra, right against your nipples and it sends you over the edge again, his lips sucking greedily at the fabric and relentless thrusting as you cry out.

He slowly reclaims his fingers and you sigh in relief, crashing against the bed. Mumbling about how much you hate him. 

But then again, that cup of coffee you had before he came home wasn’t for nothing, you think as you sit up to get on his lap.

[samsno1]

Honesty

Sam Winchester x Reader

lmao, i'm sorry. this is kind of an au where instead of sam getting the trials...you do! haha......might make a second part to this but i'll see how it'll do. also, in this there isn't the stupid "sam doesn't look for dean in purgatory" because the writers were fucked up when they wrote that, respectfully (or not)

Summary: You finally have a chance to close the Gates of Hell, forever, but everything comes with a cost, the question is, are you willing to pay for it?

Warnings: ANGST, love confessions, sad sammy, kisses, reader sees bobby as a father figure, reader is shorter than Sam, NOT PROOF-READ, english is not my first language

WC: 3.7k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

As you lie there, soaked in hellhound's blood, panting after a fight against the creature, the glasses you wore to be able to see it dirty and obstructing your view, Sam and Dean stare at you, frozen and horrified.

You knew they would try and talk you out of doing the trials, especially after Dean's words to both you and Sam before he went on to almost get killed by the hellhound. Of course you two had followed him, even if Dean explicitly said not to, and you ended up under the dog, his disgusting breath fanning on your face as he barked above you, trying to rip your neck off. You knifed it and it quite literally exploded over you, bathing you in his gooey substance.

Now, all of you were in a room, Dean pacing back and forth while Sam just stood with his head down. You had your arms crossed, your eyes accompanied Dean's movements. He was restless, probably angry and desperately trying to find a way to counter this.

“We can find another hellhound,” He argues “I kill it then it's all solved”

“Dean, Crowley will be even more on our asses over this, he will not let his dogs out of the leash” You say, calmly, trying to counter Dean's protectiveness in the lightest way possible. “I can do them”

After you said that Dean stopped pacing around and both him and Sam looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed, almost as if you had just admitted to an unforgivable crime. The crime in the case was wanting to protect the brothers from these crazy trials. You knew how death followed them around like a plague and you couldn't handle losing them.

“No, Y/N, you're not doing these trials” Sam speaks up, a tinge of anger in his tone. Anger, worry. He looked at you, his hair casting a shadow over his face because of the poor lightning in the environment. “You could die”

“Well, too bad Sam” You said and the boys shared that look, a silent conversation between both of them, something that pissed you off in these moments because you had the right to know what they were plotting. “Look, I know you two feel like you have some responsibility over me, this…instinct to protect me ever since Bobby…” You trailed off, the memory of the man you considered to be your father still too heavy on you. Sam frowned and Dean changed his position, on edge. You cleared your throat, the sudden lump bothering you. “But I can protect myself, I can fight my own battles and, honestly? If we do close the gates of hell for good, which battles will be there to fight?” You say with a faint smile.

You look between both of them. They seemed deep in thought. Too deep and that worried you. You slowly walked towards Sam and when he took notice he stiffened up, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, his eyes taking in your rather dirty appearance. But still beautiful, he mentally stated.

Sam always thought you were the most incredible woman he ever met, invincible even, nothing could ever put you down and you could make everything work your way with your amazing mind and skills. And, obviously, your killer looks always managed to stun him every time, everywhere.

He was used to seeing you in any type of clothing, from suits and dresses to sweats and shirts with corny sayings written in the front, which you argued were comfortable. And you always looked absolutely gorgeous wearing anything. Sam used to think he just admired you, the looks from afar were just friendly appreciation, his yearn to be around you was just a protective instinct, the goosebumps on his skin when you’d touch him were just a natural reaction…

Until it wasn’t just. It was. And that was horrifying.

And it got worse when both you and him spent the last year alone looking for Dean and Cas. Spending so much time beside you made Sam realize what he truly felt towards you and he was scared. Scared to say anything and scared to lose you. So, when you killed that hellhound, his heart fell to his stomach because he knew you would want to do the trials. 

And when you stretched your hand to him, looking directly in his eyes, that determined gaze of yours slicing through his soul, he knew you would do anything to go along with this.

“Sam, give me the spell” You said firmly, not a request, a demand. He swallowed again, still speechless, still frozen, his fist tightening around the small paper which contained the words in enochian you were supposed to recite for the trials to start. You emphasize your demand by widening your eyes angrily and doing ‘come here’ motions with your stretched hand. “Sam”

“Y/N-”

“Dean.” You interrupt, anger seeping into your tone, making Dean shut his mouth into a thin line and a huff of air come out of his nose, just like a child would do when it was refused candy before dinner. He thought he’d seen you like this before, determined, practically unstoppable but boy was he wrong. You were more than insistent and that rang an alarm in Dean’s head. You knew that the one responsible for the trials could die and you were willingly going with it.

“Dean, can you give us a moment” Sam speaks up again and you quirk an eyebrow at him, looking between him and his brother. Sam looks at Dean, his pleading eyes and subtle nod giving enough information for Dean to get the message across. If there is one thing that can make you understand is honesty.

Dean slowly walks out of the room, giving you one last look that said clearly that you needed to listen with an open heart and mind to anything Sam would say. When he closed the door behind him, Sam’s eyes were already on you, trained on your features and you shifted your weight on your feet, his stare intimidating.

“So?” You said, trying to keep your ground. Sam sighed and lowered his head, considering all his options in the situation, he could tell you everything and be either rejected or accepted, he could lie to you, give you the wrong spell and work his way out like he always did and still keep you safe. Honesty. The word echoed in his mind like a chant.

He pushed himself off the table he was leaning on, crossing with you and going towards the bed to sit down. Your whole body accompanied his movements, his long strides making the distance between the table and the bed shorter than it actually was.

Once sat he looked at you and then at the spot beside him on the bed, silently asking you to sit with him and you caved, obliging to him. Your feet were light on the floor, quiet, accustomed to being silent while being a hunter, as you walked to the bed. The hardness of the cushion was not too much of a bother but still kept you grounded. Don’t let your guard down.

After making yourself as comfortable as possible, sitting criss-crossed, you turned towards Sam who was with both his feet on the floor, staring at his hands drying his sweat on his jeans. You waited for him to travel inside his own mind, finding the words, the phrases, the honesty. 

Honesty. Honesty. Honesty.

You swam in your own thoughts, especially those in which Sam was included. And those were the few thousands of reasons you wanted to be the one doing the trials, not him, not Dean. In your time alone, Sam had opened up to you about his want to live a normal life, away from apocalypses, monsters, gods…White picket fence, the whole nine. Dean had wanted that too, hell maybe he wouldn’t let go completely of the hunting but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with demons on his ass, never ever again. You didn’t see yourself getting out.

You grew up in this, much like the boys, but to you was different. You liked it. The adrenaline was like a drug pumping through your veins everytime you killed an abomination and, honestly, family wasn’t your strongest trait. All those whom you considered family were cremated – just because…we don’t usually bury hunters, so you can’t say they are six-feet under. Your love life was most definitely inexistent, you didn’t have time for falling in love with anyone.

Until. You did.

Until you fell. And hard. Face first in a bag of nails because you knew it would be trouble falling in love with Sam Winchester. You were both unlucky when it came to that feeling, always losing, always sacrificing, always in a battle. But how could you not? He was a gentleman in full, kind, sweet, caring and at the same time deadly – no pun intended. He would protect those he cared for with his life, his sense of protection his greatest quality. He was so selfless sometimes it made you mad. You had told him once ‘Be selfish, just this one time!’ and even so he couldn’t. It wasn’t his nature.

Sam wanted out of this and you wouldn’t let him abandon that dream because of you. You weren’t worth his life, you told him once after following a lead on how to open the doors to Purgatory and pull Cas and Dean out that almost got both of you killed. You were crying as you drove him to the hospital, the blood on your hands staining the steering wheel.

He was pale, his hand weekly pressing over the wound on his stomach, his breathing shallow. When you told him that, he trained his tired eyes on your face and in a rough and tired voice told you to shut up. Shut it, jerk. And fainted.

At the hospital you stayed hours by his bed every day. The doctors had told you he would be okay, that thankfully no vital organs were damaged and when he woke up you hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck desperately trying to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. His hands soothed you, rubbing your back up and down. You won’t get rid of me that easily, he had said and you laughed.

Ever since then you swore to yourself that you would guarantee that Sam wouldn’t put himself in danger for you anymore and you were not breaking that promise.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Sam spoke and you turned your eyes to his face, his hair shining against the yellow light and worry lines between his eyebrows.

“John had left you at Bobby’s and when I came back from school you scared the shit out of me. I had my gun in hand and everything until Bobby popped up, desperately trying to explain” You said, smiling at the memory. You were all so young back then, Sam was still shorter than you – which didn’t last long – and you had lost your parents a few months back.

“Ever since that night I knew you would be…something in the long run” You gave him a puzzled look and he laughed lightly at your face, his dimples appearing on his cheeks. “I knew you would turn out to be strong, brave and I knew you would end up being one of the most important people to me”

You smiled stupidly at that, your face heating up. You didn’t know what to say to him, your eyes drifting to your fingers over your lap because you couldn't keep his strong gaze. Sam sighed and considered his options, he could either hide his feelings for longer or be honest. Honesty, honesty. The word echoed through his mind like a mantra.

Sam reached his hand to wrap over one of yours, making your eyes shift from your hands to his face again. Physical touch wasn't uncommon between the both of you. Sleeping in the same bed when motels were full, sleeping on each other's shoulders, – more you than Sam given the height difference – hugs, cheek kisses, cuddling while watching movies. But something about this hand hold felt more intimate, like a wave of emotions were being poured over you like cold water. Sam squeezed your hand.

“I can't lose you” Sam said, his voice low because he knew that if he spoke any louder he could break.

“Sam–”

“Y/N. Please.” He begs, even if he doesn't know what he's begging for. Please, let me talk. Please, don't do the trials. Please, love me like I love you. “I can't lose you”

He repeats and you feel like you just got punched in the guts or like a knife went through your chest. He sounded so raw. Those four words meaning more than any poetry you've ever laid eyes upon. You squeeze his hand to ground yourself.

“Can't or won't?” You ask, voice weak.

“Both” He answers. “Both because I won't let you do this and can't because if I lose you I won't know how to keep going.”

You shake your head no, closing your eyes for a brief moment, your memories together flooding in again. His smile tattooed in your brain, his laugh playing over and over like a broken vinyl. You needed to do this.

“If I do this then that means you can finally have a life, a wife, kids…I can't let you lose this.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes. “And I need to do this for you, for Dean, for Charlie…Losing me is just a consequence for the greater good”

Now it's Sam who shakes his head, low breathy no's coming out of his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes watery and those stupid puppy dog eyes staring right into your soul, crushing your heart to pieces.

“You don't get it” He says “When I look into the future I can't imagine–” He takes a breath, considering whether to tell you or not. Fuck it. “I can't imagine it without you. The house, the kids running around, the dog…they're ours.” He stops for a moment, waiting to see if you caught what he meant but you just looked at him, wide beautiful eyes full of confusion.

“Sam what are you–”

“And you're the wife. My wife.” He says and he can see the realization come into your face, slowly. The way your jaw drops slightly, your shoulders tense and your hand squeezes his even harder. Sam swallows but now he can't back away. “So I can't let you do this because if you do it and die I won't be able to keep going because I love you, Y/N. I love you and even if you don't reciprocate I won't stop loving you. You're the first thing I think when I wake up and the last thing I think about once I fall asleep.” He keeps going, almost out of breath once he finishes, avoiding your eyes, avoiding rejection. “So, please, don't”

Don't do this, don't reject me, don't run.

“Sam, look at me” You say, one hand slowly grasping his cheek, your thumb drying a tear that he didn't know had fallen. Once he looked at you he saw you smiling. Smiling with teary eyes. “I love you, too”

You practically whispered and a feeling rushed into Sam's body. Like someone had shot him up with adrenaline and suddenly he was aware of everything around him, your warm hand on his cheek, your hand under his, the white noise of the animals outside. And his own heartbeat.

He closed the distance between the both of you, his lips finally touching yours in desperation. Pure and raw desperation. His hand went up your arm to your neck, gently pulling you more into him and yours slipped to tangle into his hair, running the soft locks through your fingers.

The kiss felt electric and it burned. Burned you from the inside out with the wave of a thousand emotions. Your head went back to those moments with Sam. Your mind was just completely him.

And it was the same for the Winchester.

He already had thoughts consisting mostly of you but now he felt in heaven, like in finally connected with whom he mostly desired, both physically and emotionally. His other hand slipped around your waist to pull yourself over him as he laid down on the bed.

You followed and slightly smiled into the kiss. Until you grounded yourself. Sam wouldn't let you do the trials, not now that you had confessed, not now that he knew you loved him too. So you had to take matters into your own hands.

As Sam laid you over him, you straddled his hips, the kiss continuing into an unexplained hunger and lust for each other. You sensually dragged your hand down his chest, earning a soft gasp out of him, both his hands tangling in your hair, messing up your curls.

Your hand that slid down his body discreetly went into his pocket, feeling for the paper with the spell written on it. You mentally apologized over and over to Sam, your mouth opening to let his tongue in to explore it, butterflies flying around in your stomach. He was gentle, caring but yet hungry and you could feel it.

I'm sorry. 

You pulled away breathless, the paper clutched in your hand and Sam looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths and a confused frown on his face.

“I'm sorry Sammy” You said as you got off the bed and started to quickly pronounce the words in enochian, your hands trembling around the paper. Sam widened his eyes once he realized what you'd done, patting his pocket in reflex, knowing you had taken it out of there, and stubbled off the bed.

“Y/N, no, please!” He yelled but it was too late. Once you said the last word an almost unbearable pain cursed through your whole body, knocking you to your knees, a loud groan of pain leaving your throat.

Sam kneeled beside you with a hand on your back, mumbling curses and apologies to you but you couldn't hear him, the pain so strong it made your ears ring. You felt a burn, like you had injected lava into your veins, opening your eyes to see your arms shining. Everything was spinning and the only thing guaranteeing you that you were still alive was Sam's warm touch over your back.

After seconds of excruciating pain you felt it going down and saw your arms returning to their normal tone. You collapsed into Sam's arms and he made sure to hold you tightly, still mumbling apologies with his eyes glossy with tears.

“Why did you do this?” He repeated, over and over. He didn't know if he wanted to kill you or hug you so he decided for the latter. He hugged your frame, pressing your head against his chest with a trembling hand and giving light kisses over it.

His other hand pressed your back against him, making your whole body stay in contact with his. His knees hurt on the hard ground but nothing compared to the pain he felt in his heart. He felt helpless.

You opened your eyes to look up at him, a faint smile on your face. You lifted a hand up to his cheek and took a very good look at the handsome man you loved. He was crying but he always looked beautiful, no matter how.

At your touch he closed his eyes, guilt spreading through his body. He touched his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes until you spoke up.

“I did this because I love you” You said and he opened his mouth to protest. You gave him a look, saying you weren’t done. “I love you too much to see you die and I know you can keep going if I die, you are one of the strongest men I know. You’re smart, you’re brave and you went through so much that I can’t let you give it up because of me. And you know I would never, ever, let you take responsibility over this and I don’t want you to blame yourself, this was my choice”

“I can’t– I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry I got you into this, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you–” You stopped him with a kiss and he sighed sadly, his hands wrapping around you tighter as if you would disappear at any second. You felt horrible but at the same time relieved. Relieved that if anything happened, Sam would live.

“Don’t say that” You whisper against his lips. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault. This is on me.” You say as you pull slowly away to look into his eyes, the mix of colors hypnotizing you. You felt like you could see every ounce of his soul through those eyes and it was filled with sadness.

Sam was angry, not at you, at himself. The moment he saw the hellhound die above you, bathing you in its blood he knew it was over, that you wouldn’t back away but still he blamed himself. If I were quicker. If I were smarter. The words ran around in his brain. When he looked at you he saw yet another one of those he loved dead. Another corpse that hung over his shoulder.

“We can do this, I can do this. I’m strong enough” You said. Sam knew you were strong but this was beyond you. This was God and Demons and Heaven and Hell. This was biblical and nothing like the things you faced before. He was scared.

“I know you are but what if I’m not?” He asks and you wait for him to continue. “What if I’m not strong enough to let you go if it comes to it?”

“You’ll have to be. If not for yourself, for me. Keep going for me” You reply with a soft look and a slight smile that made Sam choke on a sob and smash his lips against yours.

This kiss was filled with different emotions. Sadness, grief and guilt were poured into it but yet so much love. So, so much.

You didn’t get a verbal answer from Sam but you got plenty of information from the kiss. I’ll try, for you.

And that was enough.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.

[castiwls]

i can see you - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'but what would you do if I went to touch you now?'

Requested; anon

Notes; this was one of my surprise songs🥺

also requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Sam glanced up, his finger stilling over the keys as you placed a glass down beside him. “What’s this?” 

Slipping into the chair beside him you shrugged. “A drink.” Taking a sip from your own glass you nudged your foot against his. “You’ve been working all day. Take a break.” It was true. Ever since you’d first woken up Sam had been sat in the same seat barely glancing away from his laptop. 

Even when Dean had tried to drag him out to a bar he’d simply shrugged his brother off claiming this was more important. “I really need to get this lead.” He gestured to the laptop, smiling slightly. “But thank you.” 

He went back to his typing missing the way your lips pursed in slight annoyance. You watched him for a moment longer, swirling your glass absentmindedly. Finishing your drink you leaned forward slightly. 

“Sam.” He hummed. Frowning you reached over placing a finger against his jaw you turned his head to face you. “Seriously stop.”

His eyes seemed to search your face for a moment as he swallowed. Your touch on his jaw was feather light almost as you reached over to close the laptop. “I can think of at least three more interesting things you could be doing right now.” You reached for his glass taking a sip before dropping your hand from his jaw. 

His jaw clenches slightly - the muscles in his jaw working as he takes the glass from your hand. “That is interesting.” He placed the glass back on the table. 

You scoffed. “To you maybe.” Standing you moved behind him pressing your hands into his shoulder. “Dean’s not coming back anytime soon and I'm bored.” Your tone was a touchy whiney as you ran your hands over his shoulders. 

If your touch had any effect he refused to show it. Clearing his throat he turned his head back. “You're drunk.”

“I had one glass.” 

He raised an eyebrow. You groaned quietly. “Okay fine. Two glasses but still…” You chewed on your lower lip for a minute. “I’m bored.” Sam hummed to himself as he thought for a moment.

“You know you could have gone with Dean right? You didn’t have to stay here.” He smiled that boyish one that left your insides feeling like mush as you moved your hands. 

“Well, I didn't want to go with Dean.” moving away from him you sat on the motel bed. “I’m not in the mood for a hookup with some guy who's gonna try and explain the godfather to me for the fifty time.”

He laughed quietly at your comment. “What do you want then?”

You

“Company.” 

Standing again you moved back behind him. “Can I try something?” Sam narrowed his eyes, suspicious almost at what you could be planning.

“Your tense.” You ran a hand over the back of his neck. “This isn't helping.” You gestured to the laptop. Before he could respond you pressed on his neck, slow circular movements as you worked at the knot.

A quiet noise left his throat as he tensed for a moment. Curling his hands into fists he let out a breath. His eyes darted around the room trying to find something - anything - else to focus on other than the feel of your hands on his body.

“Is this okay?” Your lips brushed his ear and he jumped slightly. “Ye-yes.” He cleared his throat, blushing slightly.

A smile worked its way onto your lips as you pulled back moving your hands from his neck to his shoulder. After a while his body seemed to relax into your hands, his head tipping back slightly. 

His head hit your stomach as his eyes rolled up to meet yours. Electricity seemed to spark as his eyes met yours. Your touch grew firmer for a moment before you felt him shift slightly. 

Your hands dropped as he stood, taking a step towards you he reached out. He pulled you forward by the waist in one swift movement before crashing his lips upon yours. 

A smile pulled at your lips as you slowly stepped back towards the bed, Sam following. You pulled back momentarily as the backs of your knees hit the bed. “Do you-” His voice seemed slightly deeper as he stroked a hand over your cheek.

Sitting back you nodded. “Took you long enough.” 

Sam rolled his eyes at your teasing before pressing his lips to yours again. Pressing forward you fell back, your back hitting the bed as he placed a hand beside your head.

Staying in did have its advantages.

[imagineteamfreewill]

Powerful Magic

Title: Powerful Magic

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 13.7k

Warnings: Brief language, witches, magic/curses, frequent mentions of death and dying, crying, very light blood, angst, fluff

Summary: While on a witch hunt in Boston, Sam puts his life on the line to save Y/N. When he begins to suffer from the effects of the magic the next morning, they’re forced into an impossible situation with no way out. 

A/N: This is a commission for the lovely @park-simphwa. Thank you to them for giving me such a fun prompt to write, and thank you to everyone who supports me in a million other ways. As always, I hope you enjoy this story!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You aren’t expecting to run into anyone on the grocery run, least of all your old hunting partner, but life’s been throwing fireball after fireball at you lately, so you really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been years since you’ve seen Jason, and somehow he still looks exactly the same, maybe with a few more wrinkles and scars. His hair is still greasy and cropped close to his skull, and you can smell the cigarettes on him even from where you stand a few feet away. His boots are caked with dried mud that sprinkles across the tile of the grocery store every time he shifts his weight or takes a step to get out of someone’s way, which is often because he’s always been the type of guy that thinks of himself first and others second.

Smiling tightly, you yank your cart closer to the shelves of jarred salsa and bottles of colorful sodas to make room for people trying to get by, and you use that movement to look over your shoulder. There’s no sign of Sam or Dean.

Damnit.

“So, how’ve you been?” Jason asks. “You look good, Y/N.”

You nod. “Good, fine. How about you? Are you still…?” You don’t dare utter the words aloud, but Jason gets the hint. He nods.

“Still in pest control. It keeps me busy.” He grins, and you try not to grimace at the yellow tinge of his teeth. How had you ignored all of his red flags for so long? With the exception of your last hunt together, it’s not like Jason was necessarily a bad guy, he was just gross and inconsiderate. On top of the constant smoking, he always took too long to shower after coming back from hunts. You know for a fact that he only brushed his teeth once a week. Plus, you don’t remember ever seeing him do laundry, though logically, he’d done it at some point… Right? Or maybe you’d just gotten used to the stench.

“There you are,” Sam’s voice in your ear makes you shiver, but his hand on your lower back warms you right back up. “I was looking for you.” He pauses. “Who’s this?”

You glance up at him, smiling in relief. Sam doesn’t smile back. His face is a hard mask of protectiveness, one that you’re always grateful for, even if it’s being wasted. You know that he’s amping it up a little just because you were approached while he was out of sight. He’s always a little more protective when he thinks you’re getting hit on by some creep. You can’t count the number of times he’s pretended to be your boyfriend to help you avoid men hitting on you at the skeevy dive bars that you always seem to find after hunts. Part of you should be offended that he’s stepping in instead of letting you handle it yourself, but you know he doesn’t do it because he doesn’t think you’re capable. Sam does it because you shouldn’t have to fend them off on your own. You shouldn’t have to be in that position, but because you are, he’s not going to let you be there alone.

“This is Jason. He’s an old coworker, from before I joined up with you and Dean. Jason, this is my…”

You hesitate, instantly knowing that you shouldn’t. You and Sam are just friends. It doesn’t matter how badly you want to be more than that, or how easily the two of you fall into the rhythm of a fake relationship, both for a moment in the grocery store or for a week-long hunt. It doesn’t matter that Dean insists his younger brother likes you. It doesn’t matter what Sam said the one time you’ve seen him really, truly drunk. You’re just friends.

“—friend,” Sam finishes. He holds out his right hand, and his fierce expression has been replaced with a polite smile, though you can tell it’s fake. You know him well, but for a second, he almost looks a bit jealous. “Sam.”

Jason shakes his hand with both eyebrows raised. His smile had faded the second Sam approached, but now he seems uneasy. “Sam. And… Dean?” He glances between you and Sam. “As in…?”

You cut him off with a quick, “I’m so sorry, Jason, but we’re really cutting it close on time.” His mouth snaps shut and he has the decency to look chagrined. Anyone with any common sense in the hunting world knows not to name names, especially last ones. You never know who might be listening.

“She’s right. Dean’s waiting on us, and we’ve got to get back on the road. It was great meeting you,” Sam adds. “Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” His hand drops from the small of your back. You try not to let your disappointment show.

With one last smile and a promise to keep in touch, even though all three of you know that you won’t, you make a u-turn with the cart and walk with Sam toward the checkout lanes. He doesn’t say anything as the two of you unload the items onto the belt, nor does he say anything as the items are scanned and bagged. Your stomach churns as the tension crackles between you. Why had you hesitated? Why had you acted so weird? Had Sam really been jealous, or did you just imagine it?

Chill out, you think as you load the bags of groceries into the cart. Sam pulls out his wallet and swipes his latest fraudulent card, then takes the receipt. You watch out of the corner of his eye as he tucks the card into the left hand pocket, the one he reserves for cards he’ll need to ditch soon.

You’re going to make this worse if you don’t relax.

You follow him out to the Impala, pushing the cart slow enough that you won’t run into him if he stops. Dean is already leaning against the side of the car. He has an energy drink in one hand and his phone in the other. Whatever else he decided to buy has already been loaded into the trunk. He glances between you and Sam as you get closer, clearly sensing something is off, and you watch as he straightens and deposits his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks.

Before you can answer, Sam nods. “Yeah, all good. They were out of the soup you wanted.”

Dean grumbles to himself and opens the trunk, then helps you unload the groceries. His three bags of purchases are already tucked into the back, and you’re careful not to load anything on top of them in case he bought something that could get squished. As you work, Sam goes around to the passenger side and takes his seat, shutting the door behind him.

“What happened?” Dean asks you. He rearranges some of the bags you’ve put onto the trunk’s false bottom. Though there’s plenty of noise to talk over in the busy parking lot, he keeps his voice quiet enough that Sam won’t be able to hear it through the backseat. 

You don’t meet his eyes. “Nothing. Just ran into an old partner of mine, that’s all.”

“Partner?” You can feel his gaze on you, and your cheeks grow warm.

“Not like that,” you huff. “We were just… partners. For a while, it could have been something else, but it never happened.”

“Why not?”

Unloading the last bag, you glance up at the storefront, where Jason is exiting. He’s only got two bags in hand, but there’s a six-pack of beer tucked under his arm. He already has a cigarette tucked between his lips. Dean looks past you and grunts a little.

“If that’s him, I can see why.”

“Be nice,” you tell him.

“Was he at least a good guy?” 

You shrug. “He wasn’t bad. Just kinda gross, that’s all.”

Dean grabs your arm before you can walk away with the cart. You look back at him, and he’s watching you with the same protective glint in his eye that Sam had inside the store.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Did he say something to you in there?”

“No. That’s not why it was weird.”

“I gotta know if something happened, Y/N. If I’m gonna ride in the car with the two of you—”

“I hesitated, okay?” you answer, yanking yourself free from his grip. Your cheeks are definitely hot now, and it’s not the sun. It’s still cloudy from last night’s storm. “I went to introduce Sam and I hesitated.”

Dean is staring at you like you’ve just broken into song. “You hesitated?”

Sighing, you look up at the clouds, willing yourself not to be so embarrassed by this. It shouldn’t be this big of a deal. 

“Yes, I hesitated. Instead of just saying that his name was Sam, I said, ‘This is Sam, my….’” You gesture with the hand not holding the cart, letting the unfinished sentence hang in the air.

His face twists. “Oh. Rookie move, Y/N.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So what did you end up saying?” Dean asks.

“I didn’t. Sam finished and said he was my friend.”

“And you want to be more than friends.”

“I didn’t say that,” you quickly reply, but you look away, and your cover is ruined.

“Why don’t you believe me when I tell you that he likes you? You two are driving me insane. I’m going to lose my mind before we ever get to Boston if this keeps up.”

You roll your eyes and head towards the cart corral, then push the cart in with the others. Dean’s already in the driver’s seat by the time you start walking back, and he starts pulling out of the spot as soon as you have the back door shut. Sam doesn’t say anything. You cast him a quick glance, but that’s all you risk as you settle into your usual spot with the book he’s loaned you. It isn’t one you’re particularly interested in, but you’ve traded books for the trip. You’re fairly certain that you got the short end of the stick. Despite the years of friendship under your belt, he never takes your book suggestions. Then again, you don’t take his.

The universe finally takes mercy on you, and the rest of the drive to Boston goes by faster than expected. You have one overnight stay in a motel, but the boys decide to get two rooms instead of one, so you get a queen size bed and the bathroom all to yourself. 

Once in Boston, you check in to a second motel, then head out to get your bearings. The person who sent the information to Dean had only given you the address for the hotel where the witch is supposedly hiding out, plus the names of two of the victims. Sam decides to look at some old, non-digitized records of the hotel, so you go with him, knowing that if you go with Dean, you’ll most likely end up at the morgue. You’re not really in the mood for a dead body. You’ll take an afternoon with your best friend over that any day, even if your best friend is currently giving you the cold shoulder.

You’re in one of the reservable rooms at the library, looking over the papers and logbooks spread out over the table, when Sam finally brings up the grocery store incident.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you look up from the patron log you’ve been carefully sorting through.

“Yeah, why?” You try not to seem surprised that he’s asking, considering he hasn’t said much of anything to you since you left the grocery store over 24 hours ago.

“You’ve been quiet since we ran into Jason.”

You shrug a little and look back down at the page, then flip it over to look at the names listed on the back. “I’ve been reading the book you loaned me.”

“It’s not that,” he says. “This is your ‘I made a mistake’ quiet.”

Not knowing how to answer, you keep your eyes on the book in front of you. Sam stares at you, and you can feel him watching you as you gingerly turn the page again.

“I don’t want to press—”

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” you finally say, still not looking up. It’s the truth, even if it’s not the whole truth. “It just… caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s not every day you run into someone that almost got you killed, you know? And then I was flustered when I introduced you, and I panicked. I was worried that maybe you were offended because I got all tongue-tied.”

He’s quiet for a second. You risk a glance in his direction, only to find that Sam is already watching you.

“What?” you ask. You fidget with the corner of the paper for a second, and then you have to force yourself to release it before you damage the time-worn parchment. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—”

“No, that’s not it,” Sam interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not offended, Y/N. I don’t think you could ever offend me.”

The tension between you breaks, and you grin at him. “Oh yeah? Not ever?”

He laughs and pulls his laptop over to where he’s sitting. “Well, maybe if you—”

“No, you can’t take it back now!” you laugh. You scoot your chair closer to his, closing the palpable gap that had been left between you. Sam shifts his stuff to make room for you, and you smile wide, happy to have your friend back. You try to ignore the way your heart leaps into your throat for a brief moment after his hand brushes yours.

You continue researching, but only a couple minutes have passed before Sam clears his throat and speaks up again.

“So, you and Jason,” he starts, and you close the logbook. There’s nothing useful in it and you add it to the growing pile of books you’ve finished.

“What about me and Jason?”

“Were you ever… together?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Like, dating?” Sam nods and you grab another book, not wanting to look at him when you answer, “Yeah, for a little while, right before we split.”

“Ah.”

“Mm-hmm.” You open the book, silently hoping he doesn’t ask any more questions about Jason. The two of you have never really talked about any of your past partners. It’s a sore subject for Sam, so you’ve respected the territory, even though you’ve come dangerously close on a few occasions. You usually don’t mind, considering you’d have to lie if he asked if you were interested in dating, and he can always tell if you’re lying.

“You said he almost got you killed,” Sam says, his voice a little softer. His fingers stall over his laptop keyboard, and the screen goes black.

You look up from the book and he’s watching you carefully, gauging your reaction. He knows how hard it can be to discuss the past, and you’re in public. It’s not exactly the safest place for a hunter heart-to-heart. These kinds of conversations are best held in the bunker, or late at night in a motel room.

After a second, you nod. “Yeah. He… He used me as bait, and I didn’t know that was the plan. And then, while he was waiting for them to approach me, he got drunk. He showed up much, much later than he should have.”

You have to look away and swallow the lump in your throat. Under the table, Sam finds your hand and squeezes. 

“I promise to never do that to you,” he tells you, with such conviction that tears spring up in your eyes.

You squeeze his hand in return, blinking quickly to clear your vision. “I know.”

“I will always keep you safe, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Nodding, you look up and take a steadying breath, then smile a little. Sam’s expression doesn’t change. He’s not smiling back at you. Instead, he’s staring at you with an unmatched ferocity, and your smile fades.

“I know,” you gently reply. “I’ve never doubted that.”

You and Sam stare at each other for a long few moments. The other patrons in the library continue to go about their business, and he holds your hand under the table until his phone chimes loudly and several people look over. Sam pulls away first, reaching for the phone. You turn back to the book, feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath your feet. 

What was that all about?

You and Sam have spent countless hours alone together, even going so far as to pose as a couple on a hunt, but it’s never felt like this before. He’s never been so adamant that you know he cares about you and your safety, and he’s never asked about your past love life. Sam’s a passionate guy, too, but you rarely see this side of him. His passion is normally directed toward hunts, or toward the academic subjects and topics he studies in his free time.

“Dean’s got a lead,” Sam relays, staring at the message on his phone. He texts back a response as you nod and begin to pack up. He puts his phone away and starts to help, and you finish cleaning up together, bumping elbows and hands as you stack the materials the way they’d come. Sam carries them back to the circulation desk before you can offer to help, leaving you to follow behind. You don’t mind.

As soon as the three of you are together again, Dean drives to the abandoned hotel and parks in an alley, far enough back from the street that you won’t be easily seen. You unload the guns and witch-killing bullets while they compare notes. You listen in silence as you load all three weapons. The whole thing sounds very straightforward.

“Ready?” Sam asks, and you nod, holding out his gun. He takes it and gives it a quick once-over before nodding his approval. Dean does the same.

You decide to head into the hotel through the old maintenance entrance. The two victims had been found just outside the door, and you quickly discover that it was the right choice. Dean taps on your shoulder only a minute after you enter the building, then points at a bookshelf half-full of spell ingredients. Jars of all shapes and sizes hold everything from small animal bones to a shimmering blue liquid that reminds you of the “potions” you would make using various soaps and shampoos as a kid. It’s one of the few memories you and Sam have in common from your childhoods, though you made yours at your house and his toiletries came from a long string of motels. 

There’s another tap on your shoulder and you glance behind you at Sam, who gestures to your left with his gun. You turn down the hallway, following the sound of shuffling that you hadn’t heard before. It gets louder as you get closer, and then the person begins to chant. Her voice is deep and rich, and without realizing it, you’re lowering your gun. All you want to do is listen. The Latin is almost melodic.

“What are you doing?” Dean hisses. He pulls you away from an open doorway by the collar of your jacket. You stumble and blink at him.

“She okay?” Sam whispers. 

“I have to…” You struggle to voice the burning desire inside of you, the little voice in your head telling you to find the witch. Deep down, you know that it’s dangerous and that you’re being affected by whatever spell she’s performing, but your hands move of their own accord, pushing the boys out of your way. 

Stop! You have to fight this, you think, but it’s as if your conscience is behind a thick glass pane. Your own thoughts feel muffled and far away. They’re useless against the effects of the witch’s magic.

Sam reaches for you, and you dodge him as you duck into the next room of the hotel. It’s an old ballroom with high, vaulted ceilings. A dusty chandelier with cracked crystal pendants hangs precariously over the center of the patterned dance floor, and cobwebs are strung up in every corner. Broken tables and chairs are pushed against one wall, and boarded up windows separate you from the garbage-littered street outside. A balcony winds around two of the walls, with the staircase behind the witch. The banister is made of marble columns and a dark wooden handrail coated with a thin layer of dust. Lit candles litter the floor, and beneath the chandelier, the witch stands surrounded by metal bowls of ingredients and a sigil painted in white.

She reaches out a hand for you when you enter. You’re in a daze, and as your feet carry you closer to her, your gut churns. Something inside you is screaming—every hunter’s instinct you have is telling you to lift your gun and shoot, but you reach down and place your weapon on the dusty tile instead. 

Chanting louder, the witch’s eyes begin to glow a vibrant red. An aura around her does the same, and your breath hitches at the sight. 

This is wrong!

She smiles then, beckoning you with her fingers, and the sudden onset of nerves dissipates. You smile back, taking another step. 

“Y/N!”

Dean’s voice makes you blink, and you flinch when a gunshot goes off behind you. It hits the banister behind the witch. Her volume increases again, reeling you back in as she pulls a thin, jagged knife from a sheath at her hip. Letters etched onto the blade glow red as well, and your eyes are drawn to it. Your mouth feels dry as you shuffle forward, entirely focused on the weapon in her hand.

“That’s it,” the witch coos, now finished with the incantation. “It’s alright, dear one.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Another shot rings out, but it sounds far away as you step closer. You’re almost to the edge of the sigil. Two more steps and you’ll be within her reach.

Someone grabs your arm, yanking you backwards. She screams a horrible scream, one that makes you shudder and cringe as an arm winds around your stomach, pulling you even further away. Your feet drag across the floor and you cling to the arm of whoever’s holding you. You’re torn between fighting them and letting yourself be rescued, but then the glow from the witch’s eyes fade. You gasp for air, feeling her hold on you relax.

“Dean,” you croak. You can’t see his face, but the feel of his jacket against your palms is familiar and comforting. Your throat feels raw, as if you’ve been screaming for hours. You go to say something, to warn him that her spell is almost finished, when the red light concentrates at her fingertips. “Dean!” 

There’s a flash of red. You close your eyes, turning your head away as Dean pulls you harder against him and whirls around so his back is toward the witch. Over the witch’s shout, you hear Sam yell something, and then there’s a heavy thud.

“Sammy!” Dean releases you, cursing, and you fall to your hands and knees. 

You yelp when you hit the floor. Your bones immediately ache from the impact, and you stay there for a minute. You know that you’ve messed up. Guilt blooms in the center of your chest and tears well up in your eyes. You feel weak and, for a second, violated. You should’ve been able to resist the witch’s magic.

Get it together, you silently order. You have to focus. You can feel bad after you kill her.

“Y/N!”

Looking over, you see Dean crouching beside his brother, who’s laid out on his side. Sam’s eyes are closed and your chest tightens.

“Sam!” you cry, and you scramble over to where he lays just outside the witch’s sigil.

Dean rolls him onto his back, and you kneel beside him, cradling his face in both hands as you search for any sign of life.

“Sam? Sam, wake up,” you plead.

“He’s still breathing,” Dean tells you. “She knocked him out with whatever that was.”

“Please, Sam. Please, open your eyes.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding, and you’re crying by the time he inhales sharply through his nose and blinks his eyes open. They immediately focus on you.

“Thank God,” you sob, and you throw yourself on top of him, hugging him tightly. Sam’s hand comes up to pat at your back.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Sam grunts and winces as you pull back to look at him. “I think so,” he says after a second. “Did you get her?”

You shake your head and take a shaky breath, wiping at your cheeks and eyes. You sniffle for good measure, then say, “She got away, but she hit you with something. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

He shakes his head back at you, then closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault. She was more powerful than we thought,” he tells you. With his eyes still closed, he feels for your hand. He squeezes it when he finds it, and you squeeze back, just like you had in the library.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asks. “You hit the floor pretty hard.”

“Just give me a minute.”

After several minutes, Sam slowly sits up. You and Dean help him to his feet, and then the three of you make your way back through the hotel to the car. Sam seems mostly himself on the drive back to the motel, but you’re on edge. You watch him carefully, cataloging anything that’s even slightly out of character.

“We’ll have to keep you awake tonight, make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Dean says as he sheds his jacket. He throws it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

“I definitely have a headache,” Sam replies. He moves slowly and stiffly, and you don’t blame him. You’ve been thrown to the floor dozens of times. It never hurts any less.

“I’ll take first shift,” you tell Dean. “Clean up and get some rest.”

He nods and heads into the bathroom while you help Sam get settled on the bed. You take his jacket from him, carefully noting how he winces when he moves his right shoulder, and drape it over the second chair.

“It’s a good thing we’re friends,” Sam says. He takes off his socks and shoes, then positions the pillows behind him so he can sit up against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Huh?” Your heart skips a beat. What’s he talking about?

“It would really suck staying up with me,” he clarifies. “If we weren’t friends, that is.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You smile a little before plugging in your phone. “You want some water?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You freeze, fiddling with the lid of the ice bucket. You’ve got your back to him, so he can’t see the way you close your eyes, but he’s caught on to your lingering guilt much sooner than you hoped he would. You were hoping that Dean would at least be asleep before you had to have this conversation.

“I’m fine,” you answer. You grab the bucket and turn, giving him a forced smile. “Just tired. I’m gonna go get some ice.”

Sam swings his legs back over the side of the bed. He tries to hide his wince, but you catch it. You always do.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“You already took your shoes off.”

“What’s a little tetanus between friends?” He smiles at you and stands. You step closer, ready to steady him if needed. He’s fine, however, and he takes the ice bucket from you before gesturing toward the door.

Unable to argue, you lead him outside. The two of you walk in silence until you hear the door click shut. You’re already several rooms down, but the motel is larger than most, and the only working ice machine is in the tiny vending machine room at the far end of the building.

“What happened back at the hotel?” Sam asks.

You know he won’t judge you, but you keep your gaze forward. You don’t want to see his expression.

When you haven’t replied after passing several rooms, he gently asks, “Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets. You’re glad you kept it on. There’s a receipt in one of the pockets and you crush it into a ball as you continue, “Whatever spell she was doing… It’s like it was directed at me. I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late, but by then I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control myself. I was just—”

You inhale sharply and stop walking, looking up at the dilapidated roof covering the motel walkway. You’re blinking away tears again, and you hate how weak you feel. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says. He moves to stand in front of you, blocking the sun as it sets over the motel parking lot. “She was more powerful than we anticipated.”

Sniffling, you cross your arms over your chest and stare at one of the support columns off to the side. “I know.”

“You’re still you,” Sam says.

“What?”

“You’re still you,” he repeats. “No matter how her magic affected you, you’re still you. You’re not any less strong or smart or tough than you were before we went into that building.”

Tears truly well up at his words and you look up again, letting out a weak chuckle. “How is it that you know exactly what to say?” You wipe at your eyes and take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself.

When you finally meet his gaze, Sam answers, “Because I know you better than anyone else, and because I’ve been where you are. And you know what you told me the last time I was doubting myself because of all the crap I’ve been through?”

You sniffle and force a wobbly smile, remembering the late-night conversation you’d had months ago after he’d had a particularly awful nightmare. “That you’re still you,” you repeat. “And that we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

Sam smiles back. After a second, he tilts his head to the side, toward the door to the vending machine room. You nod and start walking again, and he falls into step beside you. The silence that settles between you is comfortable again, and the knots in your stomach have loosened with his reassurance.

You get back to the room to find Dean already asleep, face-down on the bed. Sam climbs back into bed as well, and you fill up both your and his water bottles with ice water. He takes it with a silent, grateful smile. You slide under the covers beside him, intent on researching the witch on your laptop while he reads on his phone. You probably should yell at him for staring at a screen with a possible concussion, but you both know that he’s had so many that a few hours in front of a screen won’t kill him at this point.

Dean wakes up a few hours later and switches places with you. Though you know you should probably shower before you sleep, resting up is more important if you’re going to find the witch sooner rather than later.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. Just tired.”

“Maybe you should hang tight for today, try and get some sleep while Y/N and I do a little more research.”

You blink your eyes open and immediately squint. Dean must have every light in the motel room on. You swear he does it to spite you, and you groan in protest.

“Good morning to you too,” he teases, stepping into your line of vision.

You throw a pillow at him, and Dean catches it with one hand, laughing. You grunt and push yourself up with one hand, using the other to rub at your eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” Sam asks.

Yawning, you start to answer, but you stop as soon as you see him. Sam looks awful. His skin is pale and drawn, and the bags under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen. He gives you a weak smile.

“We’re heading to the diner down the street for breakfast,” he says. “You wanna come with?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean replies. He pulls on his jacket and digs the keys out of his pocket. “Except back to bed.”

You sit up a little more, frowning. “You sure you’re not sick?” you ask Sam. “I mean, I’ve seen you when you’re tired, but you look…”

“Like he’s been hit with a spell,” finishes Dean. “I’ve already told him that, but he says that the witch didn’t say anything when she hit him with that freaky red light.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam says. He stands from the side of the bed, but he instantly starts to sway. You’re on your feet in a split-second, steadying him with a hand on his arm.

“Maybe you should stay here,” you quietly suggest. You glance over at Dean, who holds up his hands.

“I’ll be in the car,” Dean tells you, and you nod. 

You and Sam stand in silence until Dean’s gone and the door shuts behind him. Then, you look at him with as stern a look as you can muster having just woken up.

“Be honest.”

“I’m tired.”

“Sam.”

He sighs.

“Sam.”

“I’m… exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired in my life, and I want to sleep, but I’m scared,” he admits.

Your eyebrows push together as you frown even harder, and you guide him to sit beside you on the edge of his bed. “Why are you scared?”

“The witch didn’t say anything when she hit me with whatever it was, but we also know that her magic was strong enough to affect you from several rooms away,” Sam says. “If she did something to me, we have no clues as to what it is.”

You hum a little, mulling over his words for a second before looking over at him. “What if I gave Rowena a call? Had her come check you over, see if there’s any kind of lingering effect we haven’t seen yet?”

Sam takes a deep breath, then exhales and shakes his head. “We already owe her.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay. You’re my best friend, Sam. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Because I wouldn’t know what to do without you. Those words go unspoken, but you hope he hears them regardless.

Nodding, Sam replies, “Okay. Okay. I’ll… I’ll give her a call.”

“No, I’ll do it. You should rest. I’ll keep an eye on you,” you assure him. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, Sam.”

He smiles just a little bit, though you can tell it’s only for your sake. “You always do.”

You get up to grab your phone from where you’d left it charging, and Sam slowly lays back on the bed. As you type out a text to Rowena, you try to remember if the witch really hadn’t said something, or if you’ve just forgotten it.

“I’m gonna text Dean and let him know to go ahead without me. Do you want him to get you anything?” you ask. He doesn’t reply. “Sam? Did you hear—”

Turning, you stop when you see Sam has his eyes closed. For a second, you worry that he’s dead, and you hold your breath as you wait to see his chest move. When it does, you exhale heavily.

He’s okay, you reassure yourself. He’s going to be just fine.

You shoot a quick text to Dean with your order, plus a few things that Sam might want, and Rowena replies as soon as you’re done. She’s nearby. 

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully. Sam sleeps for an hour or so at a time. Every time he wakes, he looks more tired than before, and the smaller-than-usual meals he eats don’t seem to help him at all. It’s hard to tell since he’s been in bed most of the day, but when he gets up around dinnertime, he looks thinner. 

Dean’s pacing the length of the room by the time Rowena shows up at the door, and you’re in even worse condition. You’re pretty sure that if she’d shown up any later, he might actually have relented and taken Sam to a hospital. You caught a glimpse of his phone when he passed by and he had the directions already open on his maps app.

Rowena stands beside the bed and moves her hands over Sam’s chest. He’s awake now, and he stares straight up at the ceiling as she works. A soft glow emanates from her palms, but as you watch from a few feet away, it strengthens, turning from golden to crimson to a vibrant purple.

“Well?” Dean asks. He shifts in place by the small dining table. His fingers twitch and he makes a fist with one hand. “Is he alright?”

She drops her hands and turns to face the two of you. Sam sits back up against the headboard, and you glance over at him. His eyes are bloodshot, as if he hasn’t slept in days. You’ve seen him look like this before, but it’s never been this concerning. He’s never managed to look this ragged so quickly.

“It’s a siphoning curse,” she explains, adjusting the jacket she’s wearing over her black jumpsuit. 

“Siphoning?” Dean questions. “Siphoning what?”

“Life.”

You suck in a breath. It’s cold against your teeth, and Sam meets your eyes. There’s recognition in them, and not in a good way. A lump forms in your throat as you turn back to Rowena.

“Life?” you ask her. “But… Then…”

“I’ll die,” Sam finishes.

You blink. Your eyes burn and you frantically shake your head, taking a deep breath. Inside your chest, your lungs stutter as you try to compose yourself.

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “No. There’s got to be a way.”

Rowena purses her lips a little. She clearly knows more, and you take a step forward, clenching both hands into fists.

“Tell us,” you demand. “Tell us!”

You don’t mean to scream—you really don’t—but it just comes out. Dean reaches for you, grabbing your arm and looking toward the door with wide eyes as he listens for a response from anyone nearby who might have heard. Rowena doesn’t react. Swallowing thickly, you look from her to Sam, who has his eyes downcast and his hands folded in his lap. If you didn’t know any better, you might think he was sleeping, but the way he grimaces as you yank your arm from Dean’s tells you that he’s awake and listening.

Your throat feels raw and you swallow again. “How long?” you croak. 

“A week, at most,” Rowena adds. “It’s likely he will be unconscious for the last few days. It takes a lot of energy to stay awake, and his body will try to conserve as much as it can before it fully shuts down.”

Dean mutters a curse and shakes his head again. “No. There has to be a way. A counter-curse?”

Rowena shakes her head, and this time, her expression is almost apologetic. “I’m afraid not. Whoever cast this spell is very powerful, and it would take extremely powerful magic to reverse the curse.”

You look from her, to Sam, to Dean, and then finally back at her. Rowena is the most powerful witch you know.

“Can you reverse it?”

“I’m sorry, dear,” she replies, meeting your gaze. Her lips press together in a sad smile. It’s the first show of genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, and it’s not enough. “But this is beyond even me.”

“And if we killed her?” Dean asks.

“It won’t have an effect. You still need the magic to reverse it. Not even the caster herself can reverse this particular curse once it’s taken hold.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Go home,” Sam finally says. It’s so quiet that you almost miss it in your hurry to ask about recruiting another witch to help you, but you stop with your mouth open. Sam opens his eyes and sighs softly. “We go home.”

“Bullshit. I’m not taking you home just so you can die!”

“Dean. Enough. You heard what she said.”

Rowena looks between Sam and Dean. After a moment, she says, “I need a moment alone with Samuel here.”

Immediately, Dean is on guard. He straightens up, standing tall as he stares her down with enough ire that you want to shirk back, and you’re not even on the receiving end of his glare.

“I might be able to give him some more time,” she gently adds. With more confidence than you think you could muster if you were in her shoes, she places a hand on Dean’s arm and takes one step forward, guiding him toward the door.

“One of us stays,” Dean answers, nodding his chin in your direction. 

Rowena nods, agreeing, “Y/N is welcome to stay, but you have a habit of riling him up. Big brothers always have a way of doing that, in my experience.”

“I need to know what you’re doing before you do it. No funny business,” he adds.

She nods again and gestures with one hand to the door. “Let’s talk outside.”

You stand by the dresser, watching as she leads Dean out of the room. He exits with one last look over his shoulder at Sam, but Rowena pacifies his worries with words too quiet for you to hear. She gives you a strange look before she follows him out and closes the door behind them.

You stare at the door for a second, then at the window adjacent. The white horizontal blinds have gaps in them after years of use, and you’re able to see Dean, then Rowena, as they move to the side to talk. Eventually, they walk away, most likely to the Impala for spell ingredients. Sam’s been keeping a small travel case in the trunk for the past year or so, especially since you’ve been away from the bunker more and more often.

As you wait for them to return, your gaze drifts back to Sam. He’s watching you.

“What?” you ask after a second.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” You wipe your cheeks with both hands, unsurprised that there are tears you hadn’t initially registered. “I probably look a mess right now.”

“Not any more than me, I’m sure,” he replies with a wry smile. You both fall silent for a minute before he continues, “You’re gonna be okay, you know.”

“What?” Your voice cracks. You hate it.

“Without me.”

You inhale through your nose and push your hair back, doing anything to keep your hands busy. “Don’t— Don’t talk like that. Rowena said she might be able to give you more time. We’ll find something, Sam. You’re not going to die.”

“I was going to die eventually. Everyone does.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” he asks.

You look up at the ceiling, staring for a few seconds at the circular brown water stain that stretches several feet into the room. You’re lucky it hasn’t rained in Boston since you arrived, judging by the darkness of the stain. The dark brown is unchanging, but it’s not enough to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to live without you,” you finally say, your voice trembling.

Sam doesn’t answer, and when you look down at him, he’s wiping tears from his own face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly upset since Rowena broke the news.

Maybe it’s just finally settling in, you think.

His chest shudders as he takes a breath and it’s enough to propel you forward, to move you to his side. You stand beside the bed, staring down at him until he reaches for your hand. He grabs it with more strength than he’s shown all day and you suck in a sharp breath, tears welling up in your eyes all over again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sam,” you whimper, and you use your free hand to wipe them away, but he shakes his head. He pulls you down until you’re sitting on the opposite side of him. Your legs are draped over his and your feet dangle over the edge of the bed. You lean against his shoulder and start to cry in earnest, and Sam holds you. He doesn’t ask you to stop, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your cries have petered out by the time Rowena and Dean come back into the room. You can’t bear to make eye contact with them as they return, so you stare at where Sam is holding your hand atop your knees. Besides letting out the occasional sniffle, you simply listen as Rowena explains her plan to help extend Sam’s life. It’s a complex spell, one you’ve never heard of. She claims it will only add a few days, essentially putting off the point where he’ll become comatose, but it’s more hope than you had before. Sam asks questions about the ingredients and the text and the magic, which Rowena answers somewhat impatiently. Dean is strangely quiet.

“You’ll have to move for the spell, dear,” Rowena gently instructs.

Nodding, you clumsily pull your legs from Sam’s lap and move to roll off the other side of the mattress, but Sam grabs your hand before you get too far. You look back at him, confused.

“Stay,” he says. “Please.”

After a second, you nod again, then settle against the headboard beside him. Sam carefully lays down on his back. He rests one arm in the space between his body and the edge of the bed, but he takes your hand with the other. You rub your thumb over his as Rowena takes her place on the other side of him and begins to mix the spell in the small copper bowl they’ve retrieved from the Impala.

She chants, her eyes glowing purple, and Sam squeezes your hand with a grunt. His grip is almost bone-crushing and it takes everything in you not to yelp.

Stay strong, you urge yourself. He can’t help it.

The glow of Rowena’s eyes grows so bright it’s blinding. You look away, closing your eyes and gritting your teeth as Sam squeezes your hand even tighter, but then suddenly, he releases you.

You open your eyes and look over to see him passed out beside you. The purple light is fading and your heart leaps into your chest.

“Sam?” 

“Sam!” Dean cries. He pushes Rowena backwards onto the other bed and pulls his gun on her. “What the hell did you do to him?”

She holds up her hands in defense as you shake Sam by the shoulder, then pat his cheek. “Your precious brother will be fine,” she soothes, a small smile on her face. “The spell takes some time to activate, like I told you. He’ll look better when he’s awake again.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you? Just like that?” Dean gestures a little with the gun, but it stays pointed in her direction.

Rowena scoffs. “Don’t forget that you came to me, Dean Winchester. You already owe me for the spell.”

You’re gentle as you check to make sure Sam’s still breathing. He is and you sit back on your feet.

“She’s right,” you say. “He’s still breathing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Rowena stares Dean down until he lowers the gun. She gives him a satisfied smile when he reluctantly tucks it back into his waistband, then stands and dusts off her hands. 

“Now,” she sighs, smoothing the wrinkles in her jumpsuit from where Dean had shoved her. “I believe some payment is in order.”

Dean turns around to look at you. For a second, you stare at each other, and you have the brief thought that he might do something stupid, or crazy, or both, but then he grits his teeth and his jaw clenches. That’s when you know that he’s fighting the urge to pull his gun back out. The only reason he hasn’t is because Sam’s life is already on the line. One bad choice could lead to Rowena casting another curse on him.

“Go,” you quietly urge. “I’ve got him.” You nod in encouragement, and Dean returns it with one terse nod of his own.

You carefully move Sam’s hands to rest on his stomach, then sit beside him as Dean leads Rowena back out to the Impala. Whatever he’s giving her as recompense for the spell, it must be valuable, because he comes back in with clenched fists and muttering curses under his breath. He begins to pace the length of the room again. You don’t interrupt. Your chest aches and an empty feeling grows as you think of what life will be like if you can’t save Sam. Dean’s jaw is still clenched, and you know he’s doing the same.

“We—” He stops by the door to the bathroom, lifting a hand, but he drops it back down by his side. “Y/N, we have to find something.” His voice breaks and a lump forms in your throat, just as tears form in Dean’s eyes.

You nod. “I know.”

“We’ll— I’ll give Jody a call, and Garth. Maybe they’ll know of another witch that can help us.”

You look down at Sam and inhale shakily. With one hand, you adjust the sleeve of Sam’s t-shirt.

“I’m gonna take him home,” you tell Dean, not looking up.

“What?”

“He said he wanted to go home. I’m gonna take him home.”

“Like hell you are!”

Finally, you look up and meet Dean’s eyes. You have to take a second to breathe when you see him. You’ve been with Dean Winchester for plenty of hunts, but he’s never looked this afraid. He’s a man that laughs in the face of danger, not one whose hands tremble when he thinks about his brother dying.

“We have to try, Y/N,” Dean says, and he’s staring at you with eyes so wild that you find yourself gripping the motel sheets crumpled beside you. “I can’t just let him die. Not like this.”

You have no response. Dean will just argue if you try to reason with him, but you know that Sam isn’t one to prolong the inevitable. It doesn’t matter how terrified of a future without him you are. If he’s made his peace with it, then you need to consider doing the same.

Even if it kills me too, you think.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Okay.”

Dean swallows thickly, then nods once. “I’ll start calling. See what I can find.” He’s just looking for a reason to leave the room so you can’t see past his hardened exterior, and you both know it, but you don’t argue. 

You stare at the edge of the bed, just behind where he’d been standing, as he starts to leave. He’s made it to the door when you lift your head and look over at him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone needs to be in the bunker. It’s better if he goes with me than with you.” Before he can argue, you continue, “What if you need to check something against one of the books? Or if you need an ingredient we don’t keep in the car? What’s your plan then? Sam knows both the library and the storage rooms better than both of us combined, and he’ll be able to rest when he needs it. Plus, if I need to, I can try and recreate the spell Rowena cast to give him extra time.”

Dean is quiet for a minute, but you see him nod through the gaps in the metal floral divider that separates the door from the rest of the room.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then you two should get going. The sooner you’re there, the better.”

You’d driven together in the Impala, but it doesn’t take long for Dean to hotwire a car from the farthest row of the motel parking lot. The backseat is, mercifully, big enough for Sam to lay down without being at too strange an angle. You and Dean drag him from the room to the car together. You’re lucky that it’s getting dark and no one is out to watch the ordeal.

Dean loads your backpack and Sam’s duffel into the trunk. Then, he sends you off with a simple, “Drive safe,” and a hug. He holds you a little longer than normal, but you’re not opposed. It’s nice to know that you’re not alone in this.

The drive is uneventful. Sam sleeps for most of the night. He only wakes up a few times during the day for food and bathroom stops, and though he looks better since Rowena’s spell, he’s lost muscle mass and he still looks exhausted. You have to support him on the walk across the street to the motel the following night, but he falls asleep again almost as soon as he’s in bed. His sleep seems to be dreamless, and for that, you’re thankful.

You, on the other hand, don’t sleep much. You probably should, considering you haven’t slept in 24 hours, but your brain won’t turn off. You spend most of that night awake, listening to Sam breathe, texting Dean about his progress, and doing what research you can online. At some point you actually do fall asleep, and you wake to the sound of Sam stumbling across the room to the bathroom.

He’s getting weaker, you think, and you lay on your back, listening to the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running as you stare up at the ceiling. You’ve cried so much over the past few days that the thought of crying now is exhausting. You just don’t have the energy.

It’s not a strange occurrence for you to lay in bed and listen to the boys move around a motel room. There have been plenty of mornings that Dean has gone out for food while Sam showers after his run, leaving you to soak up a few more minutes of sleep under the covers. Now, you can’t help but feel a little nostalgic for all those mornings. You don’t have many more with Sam, and Dean can be unpredictable when he’s grieving. You’re not sure if he’ll go off on his own or if you’ll be able to stick together.

When the door creaks open, you turn on your side and meet Sam’s eyes. His face, which you’ve come to associate with bright mornings just as much as the sun itself, is gaunt. It’s a harsh reminder that you’re losing him bit by bit. His cheeks and eyes have begun to sink in as well, as if his body is collapsing inwards, like a black hole. The effects of Rowena’s spell seem to have been short-lived.

“Good morning.” He’s leaning against the open door frame of the bathroom, and he’s managed to pull on a pair of clean pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

You try not to let your bad mood show. “Morning. How’re you feeling?” you ask.

Sam shrugs a little and his gaze wanders to the digital clock on the nightstand. You have no idea what time it is or how much you’ve slept. You’re lucky that your phone was plugged in when you finally fell asleep.

“Same as yesterday. Maybe a little bit more tired. Where are we?” asks Sam.

Sitting up, you yawn and stretch your arms above your head, then roll your shoulders and neck to try and release some tension. 

“Ohio,” you tell him. You roll over to grab your phone and check the time—it’s after eight, and you’ve missed half a dozen texts from Dean. None of them are useful. “We’ve only got one more day of driving if I can go straight through. It’s about twelve hours.”

“We can take shifts.”

You look over your shoulder and fix him with a look, raising your eyebrows. He doesn’t react and you stand, then toss your phone onto the bed as you pull your socks back on your feet.

“I’m not letting you drive, Sam.”

“I can do it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not risking it,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t risk it.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

You falter as you rummage through your backpack for your last set of clean clothes. Sam is staring at you from the bathroom doorway, you can feel it, but you don’t look up at him. After a second, you slowly go back to searching. 

“Does it matter?” you finally ask.

He shuffles toward you and grabs your wrist, stopping you. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move. Reluctantly, you look up and meet his eyes. They’re just as resigned as yesterday, and though it makes your chest ache, you can’t look away.

“If I only have a week—”

“You don’t know that, Rowena cast that spell—”

“—then I want to spend it with you,” Sam finishes, and you peter out, not even bothering to finish your claim that Dean will be able to find something to save him. You know it’s not worth it, not if Sam’s made up his mind.

He continues, “I want to spend it doing all the things I love doing with you. You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

You close your eyes and turn away, hoping he doesn’t see the tear that slips out and runs down your cheek. You hate this. You’ve never felt this helpless before, not even when you’d been held captive for a week. In that situation, you’d known that the boys would find you and save you. You have no way of helping Sam out of this.

“I want…” Sam trails off, and he tugs on your wrist to pull you into a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around him and press the side of your face against him, keeping your eyes closed. 

I wish it was me, you think. I wish it was me instead of him.

“What are you thinking?” Sam whispers. His breath ruffles the hair on the top of your head.

“This is all my fault,” you reply. You can’t tell him what you’re really thinking without him lecturing you, so you pick the next best option. It’s really not that much better, if you’re being honest.

“Don’t say that,” he says. He squeezes you once. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Sam—”

“No, I love you, and I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over this. It’s not your fault, Y/N. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you quietly answer. It hurts to hear that Sam loves you. You know that he does—he’s your best friend, of course he loves you—but it hurts to know that he’ll never love you the way that you love him. He doesn’t have time to love you that way.

“I love you too,” you say after a moment. “I don’t…”

I have to tell him, you think. You start to pull away. Sam drops his arms, and he sits down as soon as he’s not touching you. The way he lowers himself to the edge of the mattress reminds you of some of the people you’ve seen in nursing homes while interviewing family members.

I can’t do this. He’ll just feel guilty.

“You don’t what?” Sam asks, and you look away.

“Never mind. I should get dressed,” you tell him. You turn back to the backpack and grab the clothes, then start heading to the bathroom with your clothes crumpled against your stomach. 

Sam reaches out with one hand and grabs your arm. “Talk to me.”

“Sam…”

“Please. I don’t want you to hide things from me because you think it’ll make me feel even worse. Trust me”—he lets out a wry laugh—“dying is the least of my worries right now.”

You freeze halfway to the bathroom, dropping your arms down to your side with your clothes clutched in one hand. After a second, you turn to face Sam, and you toss your clean clothes onto the bed behind him.

“That really doesn’t make this situation better,” you scoff. “I mean, come on, Sam! I’m about to lose the love of my life and he says that he’s not even worried about it? How’s that supposed to make me feel? Am I just supposed to be all, ‘Oh, okay! Let me tell you all about how I’ve had a massive crush on you—”

You stop talking the second you realize what you’re saying, which is much too late, and you snap your mouth shut. Sam stares at you with wide eyes and you stare back. Your heart is in your throat and when you finally feel embarrassed tears burning along your waterline, you turn around, clenching your hands into fists. 

Of all times for me to say that, you think, and you wish you could hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day.

“I’m gonna shower,” you manage to say. You take a step, then another, until finally, you’re locking the bathroom door behind yourself. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your heart is pounding inside your chest as your brain helpfully provides you with every possible outcome of the situation. None of them seem good. It should feel good to reveal the secret you’ve been holding so closely for years, but instead it’s only made you feel worse. On top of everything that Sam’s feeling and going through, he now has to deal with the news that you’re the biggest idiot on the planet. What kind of sappy Hallmark movie do you think you’re in? A hunter’s life doesn’t allow for love, let alone for a relationship with your hunting partner-slash-best friend.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly straighten up from the sink.

“Yeah?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Can I come in?” Sam asks. He jiggles the doorknob.

“Um..” Your voice trembles again and you inhale deeply through your nose as you open your eyes and look around. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a rat’s nest. The neckline of the old t-shirt you’ve been wearing since yesterday morning is stretched out and gaping, revealing a fading scar from a werewolf three weeks ago.

“You can say no,” Sam adds. “I can wait out here for you.”

Reaching out with one hand, you twist the doorknob and open the door. Sam has one hand against the door frame to help keep himself upright. Somehow he looks even worse than when you’d been by the bed just a minute before.

It’s probably just the lighting. He can’t be dying that quickly, right?

He doesn’t speak right away, so you step back into the bathroom and pull back the shower curtain, getting ready to start your shower. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I reacted to that poorly.”

“I didn’t mean to say all that,” you quietly admit, stopping just past the end of the counter. You don’t dare look up at him right now. Instead, you look down at a yellowed stain on the edge, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. “It’s not fair of me to tell you and then run away, especially since it’s too late.”

He leans forward, slowly entering the bathroom so you have time to back away. You don’t.

“Who says it’s too late? I know it’s not ideal, but I did say that I wanted to spend my time with you.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together as the new wave tears that have been forming finally escape. With one hand, you wipe them away and press your lips together. Sam pulls you into another hug.

“This is my worst nightmare,” you tell him. “I didn’t even know it was, but it is.”

“What? Spending time with me?”

A half-hearted laugh escapes you, and you blink your eyes a few times to try and clear the blurriness. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Sam kisses the top of your head and squeezes you once before dropping his arms so you can step away. Before you get too far, however, he reaches out to stop you.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he says, and you look back at him. 

The bathroom is tiny. It’s barely big enough for a sink, toilet, and bathtub-shower combo, but it feels miniscule once Sam steps inside. He’s taking up the space between the wall and the sink, leaving you to stand with your back to the shower and both the toilet and the wall within fingertip distance.

“Finish what?” you ask. Your heart skips a beat and your mind begins to jump to conclusions. What could Sam possibly have to finish that involves you? He’s not about to confess his undying love for you, right? That would be too cheesy, and too predictable for a hunter’s life. You don’t deserve that kind of happy ending.

Then again, it’s not so happy if he dies right after. You push that thought away immediately and try to focus solely on Sam.

He takes both of your hands in his, and though he sways a little, he stays upright. You try not to think about how his grip seems less firm than it has in the past.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too. And it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way. You don’t have to pretend to try and make me feel better. I’m not offended.”

Sam shakes his head and lifts your hands a little. “I love you, Y/N. I—” He stops to cough, a deep, bone-shaking, chest-rattling cough that forces him to lean against the wall on his left. He has to drop your hands to steady himself and cover his mouth, but you step closer and place one on his shoulder, hoping it’s enough to let him know that you’re there. When he drops his hand from his mouth, there’s blood on the side of his fist. Without a word, you tear off a piece of toilet paper so he can wipe it away.

“I’ve always loved you,” Sam manages after a few moments. He wheezes a little, and clears his throat to try and get rid of the raspiness left by his coughing fit.

“What?”

“I’ve—”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I heard you. I just don’t understand.”

He frowns at you, and you glance away, hating that you’re making this difficult for him. He’s balled up the bloody scrap of toilet paper in one hand, but he pushes himself off the wall and drops it into the trash can next to the sink. Without the support, Sam wobbles, and you reach out to catch him before he can fall forwards.

“You should sit,” you urge, and he shakes his head again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sam. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m not going to fall over. There’s no place to fall in here.”

“You could hit your head on the edge of the counter, or you could knock me over and we could both fall into the bathtub,” you argue. “You could land face-first on the toilet which sounds like a horrible way to be knocked unconscious. You could fall backwards and I wouldn’t have the chance to catch—”

You’re cut off when Sam slides one hand up to cup your jaw back with one hand, then tilt your head back to kiss you. He moves quicker than you’ve seen him move in since the curse, and you’re so shocked that it takes you a second to process what’s happening.

Sam Winchester is kissing me, you think, and you let your eyes fall closed when his fingers shift, weaving into your hair as he crowds infinitesimally closer to you. 

When he finally parts, pulling away just enough to catch his breath, you stay close, too. You can feel his chest heave a little as he breathes, and though it pains you to think that every time you kiss him from now on will be more and more difficult for him, you push those thoughts away. You want to savor this. You need to savor this.

“Sam,” you whisper, and he hums, then kisses you again. It’s shorter this time, and your hands migrate to fist in the loose fabric of the t-shirt at his sides.

“You kissed me,” you say the next time he pauses to breathe. He hums again and gives you another kiss. 

“Sam,” you insist, and he gives an impatient sigh. His hand moves to rest on your upper arm. The side of your face feels suddenly cooler in his absence.

Sam opens his eyes to look at you, and you pause for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You’ve always loved the way Sam looks—you’d be crazy not to—but it’s the first time you’ve felt it’s okay to unabashedly take in the brilliance of his eyes. Sam is beautiful, but he’s also intelligent, funny, caring, strong, and brave. You can see all of that just by looking at him. Maybe it’s a testament to how well you know him, or maybe he’s just that beautiful. 

Both, you think. The thought makes you grin, and you duck your head to try and hide it. It’s definitely both.

“What?” Sam asks, impatience clear, though he’s not angry. “What’s so important that I had to stop kissing you?”

“You kissed me!”

“I know,” he answers. He leans into your space a little more. “I’d like to do it again.”

There’s heat in your cheeks now. It’s hard to tell if it’s from how he’s making you feel or if it’s from his proximity, but you’re not complaining about either of those things.

“Why?”

He gives you a look, one that asks if you’re serious, but you don’t rescind the question. Finally, Sam drops his hand from your arm to your hand, and he fiddles with your fingers as he answers,

“Because I love you, Y/N. I’m not sure how much clearer I can be.”

You gape at him. “So when you said that you’ve always loved me…”

“I meant it.”

Your brain is whirling as you process the new information, and Sam moves to sit on the edge of the counter. He still has your hand, so he pulls you with him. You let him lead you the few steps without a fight.

“So you…” You lick your lips, and you swear that he zeroes in on the movement because his eyes seem to grow darker despite the bright white light from the fixture in the ceiling. “You like-like me?”

Sam’s eyes lift from your lips to meet your gaze. He stares at you a second, then grins wide and lets out a loud laugh. It’s almost a guffaw, and it makes the heat flare up in your cheeks all over again. You feel silly, like you’re a teenager all over again, just waiting for the cute boy in class to make you swoon.

“Like-like you?” he asks. “Definitely.”

He pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. His legs bracket you on either side. You close your eyes and revel in his warmth and the scent of laundry detergent and the motel shampoo that somehow always smells better on him than it does you. It’s something you’ve come to associate with him, oddly enough, but you’re grateful. Motel shampoo is a constant in your life and it will always be there, even if he’s not. 

Sam sways a little bit, leaning a bit more on you, and you open your eyes, moving your head back slightly so you can look at him. His head has lolled to the side and his mouth is parted slightly. His eyes are closed, but his eyelashes flutter as if he’s just asleep.

“Sam?” you ask. He doesn’t respond, and panic replaces the giddiness you’d felt only moments before. “Sam? Hey, wake up for me. Open your eyes.”

You unwind one arm from around him, pulling it towards your stomach and out from under his arm that’s still around you. You pat his cheek a little and look for any reaction, but there isn’t any.

Cursing, you try to maneuver him off the counter to the floor. It takes all your strength to keep him from collapsing or hitting anything on the way down. By the time you get him stretched out on the grimy tile and the towel that you pull from the bar on the wall to cushion his head, you’re sweating.

“Please wake up,” you plead, kneeling on his left, near shoulder. His breathing is steady, but he’s just as comatose as he was before.

After a few moments, you launch yourself up and out of the bathroom. Your phone is still plugged in on the nightstand, so you grab it and frantically dial Dean’s number as you hurry back to the bathroom. Sam’s still out when you get back, and you crouch between him and the wall as you listen to the line ring over and over again. Finally, Dean answers.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Something happened, we were just—” You stop for a second, wondering if you should admit what you’d been doing, but Dean beats you to it.

“You were what, Y/N? What happened?” He’s shouting into the phone as he drives and you swallow thickly as tears burn in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did,” you choke out. “This is all my fault.”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing! I mean, I kissed him! He kissed me first, and it seemed like he was alright, but then we were just talking and he gave me a hug and then he just passed out!”

Dean curses and you flinch at the volume, pulling the phone a few inches away from your ear. You’re on the verge of actually sobbing now, and you suck in a deep breath to try and stabilize yourself. Any sense of calm you’d felt less than a few minutes ago has completely vanished.

“He’s still breathing normally and I made sure he didn’t bump his head or anything—”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of him!” Dean shouts. “Where are you?”

“Ohio. At the Starlight Motel, off of I-71. We passed it on the way out to Boston.”

“I remember. I’m on my way.”

You can hear a turn signal on his end of the call and you set your phone on the floor, putting it on speaker. Judging by the noise in the background, he’s pulling off the road to turn around and head in your direction. After swallowing a few times, the lump in your throat begins to subside and you feel yourself starting to calm.

“How far away are you?” you ask, trying to focus on the steady sound of Sam’s breathing while at the same time listening for his response.

Dean answers, but you don’t hear it because Sam suddenly gasps for air. His eyes fly open as his chest heaves, and he coughs like he’s been suffocated. You shift onto your knees, lean forward, and quickly help him roll onto his side. He pushes you away with one hand as he props himself up with an elbow and continues to cough. You’re flustered and panicked, and your hands hover over his arm as you try to figure out how to help him further.

“Easy,” you soothe, and he takes another deep breath, followed by a few lighter coughs. There’s no blood this time, which is a welcome relief.

“I’m okay,” he wheezes. 

Still propped up on his left side, Sam closes his eyes. He breathes in and out slowly, steadying himself. After several seconds, the hand not bracing himself against the floor searches until it finds yours. He squeezes it once and you squeeze back, watching him intently.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” you question.

He rolls backwards until he’s flat on his back again, but he keeps hold of your hand, resting it on his stomach. He breathes for another few moments before opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

“Sam?”

“Y/N! Damnit, what’s going on over there?” Dean is shouting from the phone, and you realize that you’ve forgotten all about it. With your free hand, you scramble to grab it and pull it to your ear, taking the call off speaker with a singular jab of your thumb.

“He’s awake,” you tell him, feeling pretty breathless yourself. Your heart is still racing from the scare of Sam lurching into consciousness. “He’s okay. He’s alright.”

“He’s— He’s okay okay, or just okay?” Dean asks.

You look back at Sam, who lets go of your hand and pushes himself up into a sitting position. When he sees you watching him, he reaches for the phone.

“Hey, Dean,” he says, and he listens for a second before answering, “I’m fine. I think it’s gone.” He glances over at you while Dean replies, probably with more questions. “No, I’m not sure what it was, but I feel fine. Y/N and I will try to figure out what it was, and I’ll give Rowena a call, see if she can meet us here. How far away are you?”

“Tell him I’ll text him the address,” you interject, and Sam nods, relaying the message. He listens for a few moments longer, glances at you again, and then tilts his head away to try and hide his smile.

“Jerk,” he says. He smiles wider at Dean’s response. You don’t have to hear it to know what he says.

Sam hangs up a second later and hands the phone back to you. Without saying anything, you text the address to Dean, then slip the phone back into your pocket.

“Are you really feeling okay?” you ask.

He nods. “I think the curse, whatever it was, is gone. I don’t feel tired, and I’m not even stiff from laying down all day yesterday. Do I look any better?”

You search his face, looking for any sign of fatigue. The color has returned to his face, and the strange thinness that had made your stomach turn this morning is gone. He looks like he did just a few days ago when you’d made up in the library. Even his muscle mass has miraculously returned.

“You look a lot better,” you tell him, beginning to smile. “Like nothing even happened.”

Sam smiles back at you, as radiant as the sun, and you find yourself falling into his arms. He wraps them around you, but after a second he pulls away to look you in the eyes.

“I love you,” he says. “I know I said it before, but I mean it.”

Still smiling, you push his hair out of his eyes, cupping his face with one hand. “I know. I love you too.”

He kisses you then, like he did before, and your heart swells. You sit back on your feet as Sam leans into you. He smiles into the kiss when your free hand skims the length of his arm.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you murmur once you’ve caught your breath. “Okay?”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours. “Okay.”

You close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him being so close. The two of you sit in silence on the bathroom floor. All the events of the past few days have worn you out, even with the few hours of sleep you got, and you eventually shift to rest your head against Sam’s shoulder. He reaches over with his right hand, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes. You hold his other hand, the one he’d been using to prop himself up.

The silence is broken by your phone ringing after a few minutes. Sighing, you pull away and answer the call on speakerphone, setting it on the floor.

“I hear that Samuel’s on the mend,” Rowena says in lieu of greeting.

“I’m cured,” Sam answers. “Or at least we think I am.”

She hums in acknowledgement. “I’ll need more detail than that if you want me to tell you for sure. I may be powerful, but I’m not a mind reader.”

You roll your eyes at the haughtiness in her voice and reply, “He was unconscious for at least two minutes, but there was nothing leading up to it. He just passed out.”

“Did you eat or drink anything? Say any spells? Pray any prayers?”

Sam stares at the phone, his eyebrows furrowed together. “No. We were just talking and then—” He stops.

“And then you what?” Rowena prompts.

Sam’s eyes flicker from the screen to your face, and then he lets out a quiet chuckle. He’s smiling again, and you smile back. It’s contagious, despite the fact that you have no idea why he’s smiling.

“We kissed,” Sam tells her, not looking away. 

“I see.” Her arrogance has all but disappeared, and you know her just well enough to picture the sly smile forming on her face. “When it’s reciprocated by both, true love’s kiss is a very powerful form of magic. It’s one of the most powerful forms of magic. Wield it wisely, you two.”

You grin. “We will.”

She ends the call and you leave the phone on the floor, opting instead to lean in and kiss Sam again. 

“We definitely will,” he says.

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[justwhisperingfantasies]

The One That Got Away

Characters: Reader, (Y/N and nickname babe[s].) Jensen Ackles. Jared Padalecki. Misha Collins. Mark Sheppard. Ruthie Connell. Rob Benedict. Richard Speight Jr. Kim Rhodes. Osric Chau. Matt Cohen. Alexander Calvert. Briana Buckmaster. Eric Kripke. Lily (o.c) Abby (o.c) Emily (o.c) Mention of Karl Urban

Warnings: Domestic Violence And Mental Abuse. Angst. Mention Of  Cheating. Mention Of Pregnancy Loss. Mention Of Blackmailing. Drinking. Language. Jensen Being An Ass. Reader Being Bitchy. Let Me Know If I Missed Any.

Summary: You thought you had left Supernatural and Jensen in the past, but almost 6 years later you get roped back in when your job is on the line.

Word count: 6,145

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for some time now. Finally got the chance to write it out. Hope y'all enjoy it. 💗

Please don't copy my work and post it elsewhere.

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💗

You took a deep breath with your hand on the handle of the thick auditorium door. You can do this you thought to yourself. You haven’t been to a supernatural con in almost 6 years, and you didn’t think you’d ever be going to one another one. You push the doors open and the sounds of the crowd almost burst your eardrums. Everyone was talking, and excited, but your stomach was doing backflips the whole way to your seat. You felt so out of place. You thought about turning around and leaving, but you had a job to do and would get it done. You made it to your seat. First row, right in front of him. Your designated seat in the past. Of course, Eric would buy that seat. You rolled your eyes as you sat down. 

Rob Benedict walks out on stage after his other bandmates. The crowd went absolutely bunkers. “Alright Vegas, are you ready?” Rob asked. The crowd went wild. You let your mind wander as Louden Swain starts their setlist.

Year 2006:

“I don’t think I can do this.” A nervous Jensen admitted walking up to the curtain on the stage between you and Jared.

“Jay, you got this,” Jared assured him.

Jensen took a deep breath. “Did you get the seat?” He looked over to you.

“Yes, I’ll be right in front of you. When you get nervous or overwhelmed just look down and I’ll flash you or something.”

Jensen let out a laugh lifting his face.

“Um, (y/n) I’m feeling a bit nervous too. “ Jared professed

You and Jensen glared at him. “I think you’ll be alright.” You told him walking over to the  stage entrance

“You guys got this.” You kissed Jensen on the cheek. “I love you both.” You then kissed Jared on the cheek. “Have fun!!” You said as you turned to walk away.

“Love you too.” They said at the same time. You could hear the boys talking, but you couldn’t make out the words.

Lily was standing by the wall. She started walking with you as you passed. “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?” You rolled your eyes and looked back at Jensen.  He blew you a kiss and mouthed thank you. You nodded and gave him a smile.

“Probably not.” You said facing forward and continuing walking.

“Why the hell not?! You two would be so cute.” You sighed. “I mean you’re practically dating already.”

“Lily, leave it alone.” You said as you got to the door. You pushed the door open and walked into the auditorium, energy pulsating through the air as the fans waited for Jensen and Jared to come out on stage. You found your seat and sat down. Lily sat down next to you. They came out behind the curtain dancing as the band played their intro song. 

The band starts playing Anyway You Want It by Journey bringing you out of your memory. “You guys really for them?” Rob asked and then started to sing the lyrics. Your heart hastens and you can hear it in your ears. Of course, Jensen and Jared come through the curtain dancing like the total goofballs that they are. Some things just never change you thought to yourself.  You didn’t realize how much you missed this and them, the 3 of you were so close. Now you are just one of the ex-cast personal assistants of Supernatural. It broke your heart when you left the set, but it broke your heart more to be around him daily. They do their famous stage jump with Rob as the band hits the last chord.

“Should we make this official?” Richard Asked.

“Yes,” Jared answered, and Jensen nodded his head.

“Las Vegas and the surrounding counties, please welcome Mr. Jensen Ackles and Mr. Jared Padalecki.”

They bowed and sent kisses to the crowd then pointed at each other. “Have at ‘er boys,” Richard says as he shakes their hands and heads off the stage.

“Thank you to... Wait what was his name?” Jared jokes. Rob whispers in his ear. “Err Speight. Thank you, Richard Speight.” The microphone starts whining and the boys start holding their arms out and spinning them trying to get it to stop. Rob realized he had left his mic on, and he ran back on stage to turn it off.

“It's fixed! It’s fixed!” He yells at them as he runs back off stage.

“Rob Benedict, everyone!” Jensen says as he looks down. You didn’t think he could see you with all the lights pointed at him, but his jaw dropped and then his face lit up. He got Jared’s attention and pointed right at you. Jared yelled your name and waved. Welp, I guess he saw me. The microphone starts whining again, and they make a close encounter joke. Jared makes the theme noises.

“Hi, guys!” Jared said after the whining sound stopped.  They welcome and thank the crowd after a lot of friendly banter between them. Then after some talk about Jared’s party patches.  They finally get to questions. After three questions you hear yelling and cursing coming from the section to your right.

“FUCKING SAM AND DEAN. YOU ALWAYS DID LOVE THEM MORE THAN ME.” He yelled, slurring his words. You could tell he’d been drinking. "I BRING YOU TO THIS STUPID CON THING AND YOU DON’T  PAY NOT ONE OUNCE OF ATTENTION TO ME. IT'S ALL ABOUT THESE PRETTY BOYS"

“Sir.” Jared tried to diffuse the situation.

“WHAT ASSHOLE?”  Jensen rose to his feet. The man said as he stood up. “I’LL WHIP YOUR PRETTY BOY ASS?”

You quickly jump out of your seat and motion for Jensen to come to you. He walked over and squatted down.  “Where’s Abby?”

Jensen looks around and points at her as she walks up to you.

“Hey Ab. I think the boys should go backstage until this is handled.”

“You can still read my mind (y/n)” Abby handed you a crew pass “Here take the boys backstage. I have a feeling we will  have to call the police.”

“No,” Jensen said.

“Jensen please, we don’t want some drunk hurting you or Jared.” You tried to convince him.” And God forbid you catch an assault charge because of him.”

“I’m not gonna fight.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I won’t start the fight.

“Please” You pleaded.

“I SHOULDN’T HAVE LET YOU COME TODAY. YOU AREN’T A GOOD WOMEN. ALWAYS PUTTING SAM AND DEAN’S PUSSY ASSES BEFORE YOUR HUSBAND. WHAT A WHORE.”

 Jensen’s jaw tightened and he jumped back to his feet. You yelled at Jared, you pointed at him then Jensen, then to the backstage area.  Jared walked up and nudged Jensen “Come on man. Let’s go backstage and let security handle this.”

Jensen put his mic up to his mouth. And the crowd gasps. “Listen, guys... Hey!!” Jensen yelled into the microphone. The man had backhanded his wife, and you look over in time to see the man trying to rush the stage.  A hurtful cry comes through the speakers as Jensen throws down his mic and jumps down from the stage. You caught him before he got far. You put your hands on his chest and tried to hold him back.

 “Jensen please.” You pleaded as you struggled. You grabbed his face with both hands and made him look at you. “Come on please.” His jaw was still clenched, and his fists still held tight fists, but he stopped fighting you.  “Ross.” His eyes dropped to yours and he wrapped his hands around your wrists. “Let’s go backstage.”

“One second.” He said looking over your head.

“Jens..’”

He cut you off. “I’m good, Babes.” You guys watched as the security guards zip-tied the man’s hands behind his back and took him into the lobby. “he’s gone. I wanna make sure she’s ok.”  He grabbed your hand and started walking. Your feet didn’t move.

“I’ll go, but I can’t.” You shook your hand out of his. He looked at you with disappointment in his eyes and slowly nodded. “Come on.” You started walking up the aisle and he followed you.

“Is she ok?” Jensen asked Abby once you got to her. Jared walked up beside you and tugged on your hair. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I’m ok,” the lady said as she held her cheek.

“I think we should still have the EMTs check her out, Ab” Jared said

“Yes, they are on their way now. “

Jensen sat down in the empty seat beside her. “What’s your name?”  Taking the icepack from Abby and putting it on her cheek.  Abby walked to the aisle to talk to one of the police officers. They started pulling witnesses for their statements.

“Uh. Em. Emily” she stuttered

“You sure you’re ok, Emily?” She turned pink when Jensen said her name.

“Yes, I am fine.”

The EMTs walked up. “Will you let them check this out?”

“It’s really not necessary, Mr. Ackles.” She reassured him.

“Please for me?” she nodded. You rolled your eyes, and Jared nudged your arm with his elbow. You looked at him with knitted brows.

“Be nice." He whispered. You felt the urge to roll your eyes again but held it back. Jared tilted his head and started walking. You took the hint and followed him “I was scared there for a minute.” He said after you guys walk a couple steps away.

“Yeah, me too.” You confessed.

“I swear you’re the only person that can get him to calm down when he’s that pissed off.”

“Aw is he immune to the puppy dog eyes, Padalecki?” you teased.

Jared rolled his eyes. “Not yours apparently.”

“Trust me. It’s been proven that he is.” Jared furrowed his brows, but you just shook your head and walked away.

Well, I guess Jensen never told him you thought as you walked back to stand beside Abby. Jared followed.

The EMTs looked her cheek over and determined there were no fractures or teeth damage, but there

might be a slight bruise. “Thank you,” she said as they packed their bags up.

“Not a problem.”  They said as they walked away.

Just then a Police officer walked up “I think we got statements from just about everyone. Did you guys see anything?” He looked at you then Jensen, Then Jared.

“Yea. We were on stage. You could tell he was drunk the way he was yelling. He started cussing, threatened him.” He pointed at Jared “I could see her lips moving, I assumed she was trying to get him to calm down, and then he slapped her.”

The officer turned to Jared. “Yeah, that’s what I saw too.”

The officer turned to you. “I didn’t see it, but I think it’s obvious what happened.”

“Ma’am, can I have a word with you.?”

The woman looked so nervous. “Want me to go with you?” Jensen asked her.

“Oh no, Mr. Ackles. You are supposed to be answering questions right now.”

“It’s Jensen.” He looked at you.

“I can go with you if you want Emily.”  You offered.

“You don’t have to do that.” She said.

“I really don’t mind, come on.” You gestured for her to go ahead.

He nodded and got up. “Thank you,” she said as she passed.  You walked with her out to the lobby and the boys went back to the stage.

As you walked into the lobby Emily started looking around. “Ma’am we put him in the backseat of the cruiser. He can’t hurt you now.”

She started to tell the officer what had happened. Her voice started to crack, and you put your arm around her shoulders for support. You helped her get through everything and then she explains this isn’t the first time. Your heart broke for her. “Would you like to press charges?” She looked at you.

“It's up to you, but if it was me I would. You don’t need that in your life.”

She looked back at the officer. “Yes sir.”

“Ok well, you probably paid a pretty penny for this show, so go enjoy and you can stop by later. I’ll be there all night. If you need anything before that here’s my card. Don’t hesitate to call.” He handed her his card and walked back over the door with you two. She thanked him as he opened the door. “No problem.”  

“You can have my seat, I can watch from the sides.”

“You really don’t have to.” But you were already leading her passed where she was sitting.

“Hey, there she is!” Jensen said into the mic as he noticed the two of you. “Everything good?” you gave him a thumbs up as you her to your seat and sat her down. They continued asking questions.

You took a knee in front of her “Let me see your phone.” You put your number in after she handed it to you. “There’s my number if you need anything text me, ok?”

“Thank you (y/n) for everything.”

“you’re welcome, Emily. Have fun,” you walked to the side of the stage.

Abby was standing there. “Let her through.” She told the security guards. You thanked them as they let you through the gate. “Just like riding a bike huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So why are you here?” You looked at her with wide eyes. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. I just thought you were done with the whole Supernatural scene.”

“Work. “

“Ahh, how is the big boss?”

“He’s alright. Stressed at the moment.”

“Ha. When is he not.” Someone called for her over the walkie. She took a couple steps back. “Hey, I gotta go check on something in the back. Can you wrangle the boys and get them to their photo op for me? I bet they’d love that.”

You sighed “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” She turned and walked away. You watched Jared and Jensen answer questions and joke with their fans. Richard and Rob came back on stage seeing the last question song.  Jensen started singing with them as Jared moved their chairs and brought the fan onto the stage. The lady was so excited. After joking with the boys she asked her question. The boys answered. They hugged and thanked her. Richard and Rob started singing again. Jensen joined in after hugging the fan.

“I just wanna say guys we wouldn't be anywhere without you.” Jensen nodded along as Jared continued. “So thank you. We love you. See ya later guys.” They both wave and blow kisses. Jensen points at you and then to the back. You nod and head that way.

“(Y/n)!!!!” Jared yelled as he ran down the hallway to you. You were in his arms twirling around before you could even say anything.

“Jared, put me down.”

“One more time.” Jared spun around one time and put you down. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?”

“Well, it was kind of a hasty decision. Lily was supposed to come, but she had a family emergency. So I got sent here.”

“Why?” Jared asked.

“For me,” Jensen said.

“ Ya know you could just say yes and make my job a lot easier.” You said turning to him

"Yeah, but what’s the fun in that.” You rolled your eyes as he chuckled.

 “ Well, well, well. Look who it is.” Richard said dramatically as he walked up behind Jared.

You smiled. “Oh my gosh, it’s Richard Spade Jr” You mispronounced his last name on purpose.

“I never knew how much I missed that until right now.” He said walking towards you with open arms. You stepped towards him returning the gesture. “how long has it been?”

“5 and a half years,” Jensen answered in a dejected tone.

“Damn. Well, you look great, my dear.” He said as he released you.

“Thanks. Spade you don’t look awful yourself.”  

He chuckled. “A bunch of us are going down to the bar for drinks tonight. You should come. I know everyone would love to see you again.”

“Eh,” Jared shot you his puppy dog eyes. “Damnit Padalecki! I’m in.”

Richard turned to Jared with his fist up. Jared bumped it with his. “see you guys later.” Richard said as he walked away.

“So, photo op?” you asked. You spun on your heels and started to take a step.

“Yeah, but I gotta grab something real fast. I’ll meet y’all there.” Jared said. You sighed quietly as he walked away.

“So, this isn’t awkward,” Jensen said sarcastically.

“Pretty sure talking about how awkward it is makes it worse. “ You started walking.

“I tried to call you. “ Jensen said catching up to you.

“I know.” You admitted.

“so you were ignoring me.”

“What did you expect Jensen?”

“Yeah. “ He sighed. “I get it.” You walked in silence for a couple minutes. “ How have you been?”

“Good.”

“That’s all I get?” He grabbed your arm stopping you. “ Look I know I fucked up and I know you hate me, but if we are going to work together again we are going to have to find a way to be civil with each other.”

“If I hated you I would have let you get arrested today.” He gave you a little smile.

“But twice Jensen.” He gave you a puzzled look. “You fucked up twice.” You said heavy-hearted and continued walking.

“Damnit Jared Where are you?” you thought out loud as you whipped your phone out of your pocket.

“I’m sure he’s close,” Jensen said trying to calm you down.

“ Call Jared.” You said into your phone.

“I’m right behind you. (y/n) calm down.” Jared yelled from behind

“I’m not even working this event and y’all are gonna get me in trouble.”

“Nice to see you haven’t lost your Texan roots there, sweetheart,” Jensen said and you glared at him.

You opened the door, and the long line of people started cheering. Abby was already there. “You guys are late.” Jensen and Jarod walked up to the backdrop and started greeting fans.

“It’s the tall one’s fault.” You said standing beside her

“Somethings never change. You sure you and Jensen weren’t making out in the hallway again.”

“Abby.” You said through gritted teeth

“Sorry. Sore spot got it.”

“Is that?” You heard an angel’s voice with a Scottish accent.

You turned around. “Ruthie!”  she started walking quickly toward you and you squeezed her tight meeting her halfway. “Ruthie I am so glad you’re here.” You tried to hold back the tears.

“Come with me, love.” She kept one arm around you and took you to the hallway. “What’s going on? Are you back?”

“No. I’ve been working with Eric on The Boys. He wants Jensen to play this part. Eric sent me here to try to convince him to say yes.”

“Why the hell would he send you with everything that happened?”

“Lily was supposed to come, but she had a family emergency. He didn’t have anyone else. Plus, I get to see all of you guys. So, it’s really not that bad. Jensen and I just got in a little tiff before we came out here and being face to face with him again. Even after 6 years. And I’m pissed off it still hurts.” A tear rolled down your cheek.

“I know Babes. “She hugged you again. “Are you gonna be able to work with him again, if he does say yes?”

“I’m gonna have to. I’m finally writing Ruthie. You sighed. “I wish that night never happened. I should have kept my big dumb mouth shut.”

“They say it’s better knowing than not.” She sighed. “But I think that’s a bunch of bullshit.” She said making you chuckle. “I wish there was something I could do for you. my dear.”

“This helps. “

She squeezed you tighter. “I know this is hard for you, but I am very glad to see you. These things aren’t the same without you.”

You smiled. “I miss you too, where were you headed?”

“I have a panel in a few minutes.”

“You should go I’ll be fine.”

“Everyone is going out tonight.”

“I know. Richard and Jared already got me to agree to come.”

“You sure you’re, ok?” you nodded. “I’ll see you tonight.” She hugged you one more time and kissed your cheek.

“Have a good panel,” you said, and she smiled at you as she walked out the door. You leaned your back on the wall and slid down until you hit the floor.

You heard the door open, but you didn’t look up. Misha sat in front of you with his face in his hands.

“Whatcha doin'?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Just admiring this hallway.”

“It’s a very nice hallway, but I think you’re lying.”

“Misha, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He stood up and put his hand out “Ok then, Let’s go drink.” You smiled and took his hand. You forced yourself not to look in Jensen’s direction as you and Misha made your way through the lobby.

“So, I have a question.” You said hopping on the barstool. “How did you know I was in the hallway?”

“A little bird asked me to come check on you.” he got the bartender’s attention. “You still drink your whiskey neat?”

“Yes, please. Are you done for the day?”

“Yep. I’m all yours,” he ordered your drinks. “How is work?”

“It’s going well. I am a paid writer now Mish.”

“(y/n)!! That’s incredible, kiddo. I am so proud of you.”

“How’s everything with you?”

“Good. Gish is going to start soon. I am writing a poetry book, and Vitoria and I are working on a cookbook,”

“Fun. How’s Random Acts?”

“Oh, it’s great. Thank you, by the way. Don’t think I don’t notice your monthly donations”

“No thanks needed. I’m happy to help.” The bartender sat down 2 whiskeys in front of you  “You drinking whiskey now?”

“I do occasionally and I’m not gonna let you drink alone.” You clicked glasses with him and you both took the shot. “I should go slow though. It’s been a while.”

You tapped your glass when the bartender looked your way, he nodded and poured another round for you. “Thank you,” you said as he sat the second glass in front of you.

“Well, I see we are pre-gaming over here,” Richard said as he walked up to you.

“Have to if I gotta deal with the Supernatural cast tonight.” You teased

“Oh, come on. You know you miss us Ms. Paid writer.” You gave him a puzzled look. “Jared told everyone all about it.”

“Of course he did.” You sipped your drink this time.

Richard sat down on the other side of Misha and ordered his drink. Misha leaned back in his chair. “Don’t be mad. He’s happy for you. We all are. “

“I know.”

As the events of the day ended more of the cast and crew walked into the bar area. “You want another one?” The bartender asked you.

“Um, I’m gonna slow down. I’ll take a bud light.” The bartender went to get you one “I don’t wanna get Bello drunk.”

Misha and Richard laughed. “Do you remember the first year we went?”

You smiled and nodded “When Jared almost got arrested?”

“Jared almost got arrested?” Richard asked.

“Rich you should have seen him. He was so trashed. He kept screaming...”

“BELLO” you and Misha yelled and then started laughing.

Just then you felt arms wrap around you from behind. “I didn’t believe Ruthie, but you are here.”

“Oh. Mama Kim? You stood up and squeezed her.

“THE PARTY IS HERE!”  You heard from the doorway. You look over to see Jared, Jensen, and Mark walking in the door. Everyone laughed. Jensen looked you in the eye and you could see his concern. He raised his eyebrows, and you nodded letting him know you were ok. The bartender sat your beer in front of you stealing your attention.

“Thank you.” The bartender nodded. Your eyes went back to the same stop, but he was already on the other side of the bar.

“(y/n) You’re already 2 whiskies in?” Jared asked.

“Misha ordered them.” He looked over at Misha who just shrugged. “Better catch up Padalecki.”  You teased.

You jumped as a piercing scream pierced your eardrums. “Y/N!!” You didn’t even have to look you know it was Briana. She ran up to you and practically jumped on you. “Oh my god! Look at you. You look so great and pretty.”

“And deaf now. Thank you.”

“You’ll be fine. Tell me everything. Kim told me you have a new man” Briana was still yelling.

You looked at Kim “I do?”

“Well last time I called you, you were with a man.”

“Karl?” you started laughing. “No.”

“Well, you guys were out to lunch. At a very nice restaurant.”

“Oh, my alert the media.” You rolled your eyes. “Doesn’t mean he’s my new man.”

Your eyes scanned the room and stopped at Jensen who was sitting alone. “Jared.”  You pulled him down to you. “Go sit with him.” You whispered into Jared’s ear.

“Or you guys can pin what the hell is going on between you and we could all hang out like old times.”

“Jared.”

“Come on, B. For one night. Please.” He put his lip out. “Don’t make me bust out the puppy eyes again.”

“I hate you.” You looked back to Jensen. He did look lonely. Damnit. “Fine.”

“Yes!!” He said waving over Jensen.

Jensen looked at you. You rolled your eyes and motioned him over. He smiled and jumped up.  “So, what are we talking about?”  Jensen walked up to the group.

“Apparently (y/n) has a new man,” Richard said.

Jensen raised his brows. “Oh really?”

“Well, apparently if I have lunch with a guy that means I’m fucking him.”

He smirked. “Good to know.”

“(y/n) do a shot with me.” Briana requested handing you a glass.

“Oh, come on.”

“Can’t handle your liquor anymore?” Jensen teased. You glared at him, clinked her glass with yours, and took the shot. He smiled.

“A table just opened guys. Come on.” Jared yelled, everyone walked over to the empty table. You stood in place and watched them. You really missed this. 

Kim nudged you, “You alright babe?”

“Yeah.” You grabbed your beer and headed over to the table.

“Babes!!” Mark yelled.

“Did you really just notice she was here?!” Jared turned to him

“Shut up Moose.” He said as he walked around to hug you.

“How are you, love?” Mark asked as he squeezed you.

“I’m good. How are you?” you said as he released you.

“Good. The babies are getting big.”

“Yeah, I saw the pictures in the group chat. They are adorable.”

“Thank you. When are you gonna have a couple rugrats?”

“Gotta find a good guy first.”  You glanced at Jensen who was glaring at the tv on the wall. I wonder if he heard.

“Yeah not many of us left,” Mark said and you chuckled. 

“(y/n) over here,” Jared called out panting the empty chair between him and Jensen. You didn’t want everyone to ask questions, so you had no choice but to go sit down. Fucking fantastic you thought. Ruthie and Rob finally made their entrance and grabbed extra chairs to sit at the end of the table. Ruthie raised her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the bar.

You took the last drink of your beer and stood up. Jared looked at you, “Refill. Dude chill. I’m not gonna make a run for it.”

Jensen huffed. “Well, ya never know.”

You laughed in frustration and leaned down to Jensen’s ear. “I’m trying really hard here.” He smiled. “For Jared and Jared only.” His smile faded, “Unless you want everyone to know the real reason why I left I’d shut up if I were you.”

“Yeah, I’ll take another beer. Thanks, babe.” He said loud enough for everyone to hear.  

You rolled your eyes. “Anyone else?”  A couple of people raised their drinks. You walked up to the bar and Ruthie joined you. “I’m gonna punch him.”

She laughed, “I don’t think that’s the best course of action there babe.”

Everyone cheered as Alexandra, Osric, and Matt walked in.

“Where y’all been?” Jared asked walking up behind you.

“Got caught up.” Osric lied.

“That means they were hitting on some babes in the lobby.” You turned to face the 3 boys.

“be right back,” Alex said and walked to the bathroom

Osric’s face lit up. “Oh my god. Babes.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground. He spun as he squeezed.

“Damnit, Oz. Put me down!”  he didn’t. You looked up at Jared. “What is the infatuation with picking me up?”

Jared shrugged “It’s fun.”

Osric put you down as the bartender walked over  “What’ll it be boys?”

They ordered their drinks and then the bartender looked at you. “ I got 4.”

“Hit me,” the bartender said.

“Bud Light, corona, vodka cranberry, and a long island.” He nodded and walked to get the beers.

“So what are you doing here?!” Osric asked you.

“Boss sent me.” You hopped on the barstool.

“Oh, who’s he gunnin' for?”

“Who do you think?”

Osric chuckled. “definitely Ackles if he' sends you.”

“It was supposed to be Lily, but something came up and ta-da.” You felt his eyes on you so you glanced over at Jensen. He looked away and took the last drink of his scotch and soda. You turned back around.

“How is Lily?” He asked.

 The bartender brought over the beers. “Gimme just a sec on the drinks.”

“Can you add a scotch and soda to mine please?”

“Sure thing”

“She is good. She’s a cast p.a now.”

“aw following in your footsteps.” He said. Alex came out and walked up to get his beer. “Have you met Alex?”

“No, I left mid-season 9. Right after Kevin died actually.”

“Shh spoilers.” Jared teased. You chuckled.

“It’s an honor to meet you.” Alex put his hand out.

“Umm. What? You shook his hand. “I assure you I’m nobody special.”

“The famous Babes. They talked about you so much. Especially Jensen and Jared. They really missed you after you left.” The bartender brought over all the mixed drinks.

He pointed at the boys and gave them their total, then did the same for you. “It's all on me,” Osric said and slid his wallet out.

“You sure bud?” You asked. He nodded. The bartender put the ones for the table on a try for you. “I’ll be right back Ruthie.” You took the tray over to the table and started handing out drinks. “Compliments of Mr. Chau.” They all yelled “Thank you” and he nodded.

Jensen wasn’t in his seat. He was over by the jukebox. You sighed and walked over to him. “Here.” There was a little more force behind the glass than you intended when you put it in his hand.

“Thanks, babe.” He said sarcastically. “I think you missed your calling. You’d be a great waitress.” He said passive-aggressively.

“Yep.” You said with bitchy attitude and turned to walk back to the bar.

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?” He asked in the same tone causing you to stop and turn around.  “Will he fire you if I say no?”

“Take the job. Don’t take the job. I really don’t care anymore. If Eric wants to fire me because some jackass can’t get over his petty bullshit and grow up, then I don’t want to work for him anyway. “

He gently grabbed your arm “I’m the one who can’t get over it?”

You sighed. “Jensen, I don’t wanna do this here.” Your eyes started to water.

“Fine.” He grabbed your hand and led you outside and into the alley beside the hotel. “Then we do it out here.”

“Jensen.”

“What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?”

“Really you were just being a total ass in there. And now you wanna play the victim?”

“Oh, sweetheart I’m not trying playing victim. We all know I’m the bad guy.”

“Yes, you are.” You wiped a tear away.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked and he dropped the asshole attitude. “It’s really fucking hard to be around you. It kills me to look at you knowing that you hate me, so I put on a macho tough guy act. And I turn into an asshole.”

“How could you think it would ever be the same?” you wiped another tear. “You wanna talk about something killing you, you were my best friend. The love of my life. The one person I knew would never judge or hurt me. I could come to you about anything. I loved you with everything I had Jensen.” You looked up into his watery eyes. “How could you cheat on me?” you crossed your arms over your aching chest as you said it out loud. “And then you married her? And then the night before your wedding you came to my house. I put my heart out there again and asked you to pick me and look what happened.”

“I had to.” He said through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“She was pregnant. I had to marry her.” You took a deep breath as he raked back his tousled hair with his fingers. “She blackmailed me into the marriage. And then she lost the baby. Then I got blackmailed again.” He wiped the tears off his face. “I was blackmailed and forced to stay in a miserable marriage for Four years. Four years babe and I hated every second of it.”

“I didn’t know.” You whispered.

“I couldn’t tell you. you refused to talk to me.” You opened your mouth, and he held his hands up and you closed it. “Which was understandable. I fucked up, Hell back then you probably wouldn’t of believe me. Again understandable.” He took your tear-soaked face in his hands and started wiping them away. You tightened your arms, raising your elbows to keep the space between you. “The biggest regret I have in my life is that night. I would do anything, and I mean anything to take it back. I hate that I hurt you, I hate that I broke your trust and your heart.”  He took a deep breath. “I hate that I lost you and I’ll never be able to get you back.” You looked from his eyes at the glistening line the teardrop had left on his cheek. “My world ended when I lost you.” You looked back at his deep verdant eyes with tears escaping them. “Then we went on hiatus, I couldn’t find you or get ahold of you. I tried my damnest for 8 weeks. Every day I called everyone I could. I went to your house. Your mama’s house. Everywhere I could think you’d be. Nobody knew where you were and if they did, they wouldn’t tell me. Then I got a call saying I’m gonna be a dad. I've been in hell ever since. Seeing you in your seat today was the first spark of hope I’ve had in a very long time.”

You jumped when you heard the clanking of a trash can lid fall. “I um just um. I’m just g-g-gonna go.”

“Fucking Padalecki.” You said with a chuckle.

Jensen gave you a small smile.” Look (y/n), the last thing I wanna do is get you fired or in trouble, but I don’t know if I am strong enough to be around you every day with us in this state. I’ll call Eric first thing in the morning and tell him you tried, but scheduling conflicts or something. I’ll figure something out. I’ll make sure you’re ok though.” You nodded.  He let go of your face. “I am truly regretful of everything that I did to you and what I put you through. I really hope one day we can be friends again.”

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. You heard everything, but it was too much to process. You just stood there looking at the ground. “Babe.” You looked up at him. “I can’t leave you standing in a dark alley at night by yourself. Can I walk you back in?” you nodded. He gestured for you to go first and followed as you started to walk.

Ruthie and Jared were waiting for you guys by the front doors. “Hey there, love,” Ruthie said. She held her arm out. You slid under it and put your around her. Jared opened the door for you and then it shut behind you. “What happened out there ?”

“Cognitive overload.”

[pinkiebieberpie]

i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings ୨୧ ˻˳˯ₑ*॰¨̮

supernatural masterlist

[starfilmz]

SHOW ME WHERE IT HURTS — SAM W.

⤷ An argument between sam and dean lead for the younger winchester to call the teen help line his friends has been bugging him about. ᡣ𐭩

cw: gn!reader, sam pov, platonic relationships, maybe a little of mischaracterization, jess is here, swearing, takes place in s1ep1, unbeta’d so mistakes are around, inspired by dawson’s creek’s college help line and this fic (read if you like cj braxton or jensen!), alot of sam internal monologue. banner || gif

It all started one night when Dean arrived at his and Jess’ apartment, out of nowhere, and tried to bring him back into hunting because of their dad’s prolonged disappearance. Sam’s mind was already a jumbled mess because of his interview on Monday; his brother’s appearance and his attempt to make him leave Stanford were the last things he needed. He can’t just leave the life he’s been building on his own—at first, at least, now he had his friends, his Jess— and Sam wasn’t willing to let it crumble down for the man that had shut him out of his own family.

He was quick to reject Dean, not even when he used his brotherly tone on him.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Dean said with a scowl. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Dad is—”

“I heard you, Dean.” Sam crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “And I meant what I said. This isn’t the first time Dad didn’t come when he said will.” He felt for Dean; he really did. If he were to have come sooner, before everything, Sam would’ve said yes. The guilt Sam had instilled in himself for leaving Dean weighed on his shoulders, but that wasn’t enough.

His brother’s frown deepened when he didn’t respond, though Sam could see the visible disappointment and anger in the boy’s eyes. The silence thickened the tension between them and deafened him—he swore he could hear Jess’ breathing in the other room.

Dean turned his head away from Sam, and with his jaw clenched in the same way he does whenever he wants to say something but refuses to. Sam, even with the little time he spent with Dean as a teenager, was able to pick up the facial expressions and unsaid words his brother would use when their dad was around.

“Fine.” It’s not fine. “I’ll go look for him myself, with or without you.” He meant that, actually. “Enjoy your little university, Sammy.” Go fuck yourself.

Sam suppressed a sigh as Dean left, who made sure to slam the door on his way out.

“That went well.” Jess was already behind him as she spoke. “He looked exactly as you described him; rugged and, I quote, like a ticking time bomb.” Her arms circled around his torso, managing to intertwine their fingers together. Sam remained quiet as he looked at the closed door.

He didn’t expect Dean to take his rejection so hard. Sam knew his brother was more than capable on fighting a house full of ghosts on his own, let alone finding a human being. Why did he need his help anyway?

Sam sighed, squeezing Jess’s hands. “It’s something you’ll need to get used to.” He turned around to plant a quick peck on the girl’s head, leading them back to their shared bedroom.

“I’m guessing this is a family matter you’re not going to share with me?” She asked as soon as she got on the bed.

“Jess...”

She smiled at him, though the corner of her lips didn’t exactly reach her eyes, and took his hand. Sam lets her gently pull him down beside her on the mattress, their feet planted on the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not going to pester you for it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but judging from what I’ve heard, you guys have a lot to talk about with each other, not your girlfriend.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam agreed, running his fingers on his hair. “but I have a lot on my plate right now. I can’t just- you know, leave.”

Jess nodded, her expression never changing from her soft gaze. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you about it, since you don’t give me much detail about it.” Sam looked like he was about to be say her name again in that same tired voice whenever they would talk about his family. “But I know where you can. Anonymously, so you could tell all the details without trouble.”

He groaned, letting himself fall horizontally on the bed. Sam knew exactly what she was talking about. It’s been what his friends have been doing since the announcement from the school board. It was some sort of collaboration between neighboring schools— Stanford created a teenage helpline specifically for the university close to them, and vice versa. Some students confided in the helpline since the counselors weren’t from their university, but Sam had refused to give in.

It felt stupid to spill all your secrets and personal problems to another person, who’s most likely the same age as him, and expect to get the answers he needed. Sam had to point out that the helpline was used for normal problems, but that wasn’t something he could say to his friends, who continued to force him into dialing them.

“Jess, c’mon, I highly doubt a student can fix my problem with just one phone call.” Sam dismissed the idea entirely, but Jess seemed to be persistent with it, anyway. She lay on his chest, letting Sam’s hand twirl with the ends of her hair.

“Who said about fixing? or that it’s just one phone call?” Jess adjusted her position on the bed, letting her legs rest on Sam’s. “Sometimes, a person just has to talk to someone to help them feel better. Obviously the counselor won’t fix your family’s situation, but they could probably help you from exploding the pretty head of yours.”

Sam glanced at Jess, and from the tired tone in her voice when she spoke up, it didn’t surprise him to see her already fast asleep on top of him. He smiled for the first time in a while after Dean appeared, and the cogs in his head began spinning. For as long as he could remember, ever since he began studying at Stanford, Sam had nights where he’d talk to himself in his head. Sometimes, it would be about a test he needed to take the next morning— a topic he could easily make conversation with— but it’s usually about his family, more specifically his brother, Dean.

Especially during his first week, Sam found himself sleeping in a place that wasn’t a dingy motel with a roommate who wasn’t his brother. Sam wondered at night what Dean would be doing, knowing sleep was the last thing on the list. Then he would feel his chest tighten— the one thing his dad didn’t want his sons to have was fear. As much as he believed in Dean and the remaining fatherly instincts their dad had, Sam couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt for every possible injury his brother had or would have because he wasn’t there to back him up. The thought of the older brother, whom he viewed as the strongest person he knew (despite his lack of saying so), all bruised and battered, cornered by monsters no person should be laying their eyes on in the first place, clawed onto Sam the whole night.

And the worst part of it all was that he had nothing to prove himself otherwise, leaving him chained to his own guilt.

Sam closed his eyes, his migraine coming just in time. If monsters weren’t going to kill him, he was sure it would be himself who would do so.

—-

The next morning, as soon as he got his first vacant time in between classes, Sam had to excuse himself from his friends, including Jess, who exactly knew the reason why he needed to go back to the apartment. It was a now-or-never situation, Sam believed. He gave Jess a chaste kiss before leaving. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” she answered, though he was already a few steps away to hear it.

Sam entered the small home, leaving his bag on the couch, and grabbed the telephone from the bedroom. He was already pressing against the buttons before he registered what he was about to do. When it rang, Sam immediately began to think about what he was going to say.

It was an anonymous call, but surely he doesn’t have to be fully honest, right?

Even if Sam had never talked about his former profession to other people, he knew ghost hunting wasn’t exactly a well-received topic.

“Help line. This is Y/N.”

Sam held his breath for some reason, scared that even the pattern of his breathing could easily be an indicator of who he was. His leg nervously shook below him, still unable to say a word into the mouthpiece. A few seconds passed, and he heard your voice again; this time he could clearly hear your voice against his ear. Sam assumed you got closer to the phone.

“I could hear something shaking from your end, if I’m not mistaken. That’s either your hands trembling on the phone, your legs shaking against the floor, or it’s something else causing it.” His eyes widened at your observation just by what you’re hearing. This caused him to voluntarily stop his leg, embarrassed by his action.

“I guess it was you.” Your tone remained careful, though Sam had no idea why. “If there’s anything keeping you from talking freely, press on any of the buttons, please.” The boy finally registered your sudden change of mood— you were worried for him. It started to make him wonder what type of phone calls you receive every day.

“There’s nothing. I’m alone.” Sam leaned against the couch with a sigh. “Just nerves, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. A lot of first-time callers feel the same way.” You reassured him. He was glad your voice sounded much calmer.

“You can track those?”

“I mean, yeah, since you guys are anonymous, it’s the only way we can keep up with regulars.”

In truth, Sam fully expected a whole spiel from you. Like a robot scripted into saying whatever’s appropriate for the caller, he wasn’t fully prepared for your laid-back tone and casual words, as if the two of you were just friends talking.

“So, anything troubling you today? or in general?” He didn’t realize he’d been quiet for a whole minute. Again, he was surprised by the amount of patience you’re giving him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yes.” Sam coughed into his fist at how awkward he sounded. “You guys don’t usually get family problems, don’t you?” He would assume so, seeing as both Help lines were created a few months before Midterms.

Sam heard a quiet chuckle from you. “We do, actually. A lot of Stanford students seemed to hate their parents more than we thought they would.” He doesn’t exactly fall far from them, Sam thought to himself.

“But we try our best not to fuel them. The Help Line is exactly what it is; we help, but only to a certain degree.” You continued, your voice full of the most sincerity he’s ever heard from someone. He could tell you were quite fond of what you do.

“I bet a lot of your callers were glad they decided to call you guys.”

“Maybe,” You paused for a moment. “are you?”

The change of topic caught him off guard. Sam didn’t exactly plan to keep the conversation going about you and Help Line; talking with you made him forget why he called in the first place. To catch that as well— you were really good of a counselor.

Sam nodded and realized what he just did before answering your question. “Yes, I am,” he couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. “this is probably the most like-able conversation I had over the phone.”

You hummed as you listened. “Unlike-able people calling you often?”

"Not really, now. I did have a bit of an argument with my brother in real life last night. I didn’t like how it ended.” Sam’s words came out almost naturally, unaware of how open he’s currently being. You had that sense of familiarity in Sam’s head already, despite how little time has passed since the two of you spoke.

“Tell me about it.” And he knew you meant it, so he did.

Sam gave all the details of what happened last night with Dean, though he had to keep him under the alias of ‘Older Brother’ for his sake. He told you about his relationship with their dad and with Dean, how he was never the son he wanted him to be, which resulted in him leaving for good and his small journey to Stanford.

He was still weighing his decision to be completely honest with you, and he told you that as well.

“That’s totally up to you, really. If those details aren’t needed for what you need help with, then you don’t have to.” You responded, being the ever-understanding angel Sam was learning you were.

“I’m not really looking for fixing, if that’s what you’re thinking of helping me,” he recalled Jess’ words from last night. “I don’t like talking about these things with my friends or my girlfriend because they shouldn’t be burdened by my messed up life.”

You were quiet on the other line, except for the barely audible breathing that told him you didn’t hang up on him. Sam wasn’t expecting an immediate response; you needed just the amount of time to think of one, just like any other person in a normal conversation would.

“I’m all ears, then. I can’t imagine having to handle all that by yourself. This call isn’t just for fixing, I assure you; sometimes people just need to let out some steam to help them think, y’know?”

“That’s true,” Sam agreed with a sigh. “I make a bunch of wrong decisions when I’m all worked up.”

“Like saying no to your brother?”

Sam’s lips thinned into a straight line, as if he were a deer caught in headlights. His silence seemed to have made you continue speaking.

“Hey, like I said, I’m all ears, but questions are meant to happen when you’re listening,” you said, your voice lighter than before, as if you’re trying to bring back the friendly mood.

Sam smiled as you did, scratching the back of his neck. “I get it, yeah,” he said, tapping on the back of the phone with his finger, thinking about your question. “my mind was a bit out of it last night, not to mention the—”

Pausing on his words, Sam managed to catch himself from mentioning how Dean greeted him that night. He didn’t think that was information you needed anyway.

“Never mind. What I’m trying to say is, yes, maybe my answer was a bit of a ‘heat of the moment’ thing,” Sam confessed. To you or to himself?

“I’m glad you finally managed to catch up with yourself.” Your voice was filled with humor, a teasing tone that somehow made Sam’s heavy chest a little bit lighter as he playfully scoffed.

“Is it allowed for counselors to make fun of their callers?” He challenged, but had no intention whatsoever. The chuckle from your end made him grin.

“Only if it’s needed in the process.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

The banter ended with the two of you laughing at each other, though Sam was laughing at himself a little bit. He knew Help Lines existed for a reason, but Sam doubted he’d get this much help if another person who wasn’t you had picked up his call in the first place. You were a good person in a good job that fitted you.

Sam’s mind was a bit clearer for now, definitely better than usual, and he wanted to fix his mistakes as soon as possible.

He was the first one to break the comfortable silence. “Thank you, by the way.”

“There’s no need for thanks,” You seemed to be genuinely pleased at it, though. “the best way you can thank me is if you feel better than before.”

“I do. After this call, I’ll probably start looking for my brother, if I can find a way.”

“Of course, you will. I can’t exactly help with that, but if you need me in ways that I can, feel free to call back next week.” Sam smiled at the offer. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

“How would I know it’s you I’m calling?” He asked.

“My shift starts at three pm and ends at eight. If you don’t get me, you’re allowed to switch counselors. Just look for the charming employee named Y/N and they’ll direct you to me.”

“I think saying your name would be just fine,” Sam chuckled as he heard your whispered protest. “okay, okay, I’ll ask the charming employee named Y/N when I call again.”

Your switch of moods made him shake his head. “That’s the spirit! You promise?”

“The name or the call?” Sam teased.

“Preferably both, but mostly the call part.”

“Yes, yeah, I will. I’ll update you on what happens.”

“Oh, gossip!” You faked a gasp, making you laugh at your own jokes as well Sam. “I’m so glad this isn’t a recorded line.”

[deanwinchestersbabygirll]

wishful thinking

-warnings// angst, mentions of smut but no real descriptions

lil summery// Sam has a little crush on deans girlfriend a just little sad

Dean x reader... with a little Sam x reader (just a lil bit)

word count// 3450

(Gif from pinterest)

You groaned as the light came through the window blinds, rolling over to hide in your boyfriends warm chest, Dean chuckled running his hand up and down your bare back "not ready to wake up gorgeous?" He asked kissing the top of your head "no. My plans revolve around staying in bed with my pretty sexy, and very nude boyfriend" you mumbled against his chest, dragging your hand down his chest and down his stomach

You jumped back when you heard a loud knock on the door "are you two almost ready? There was another attack last night" Sam called through the door, "Just taking a shower then we'll be out Sammy" Dean yelled back, you looked up at him confused "baby we showered last night" Dean chuckled, rolling on top of you, he smirked down at you, his amulet hanging down his neck "yeah but I just bought us some more time" Dean flirted as he pressed kisses down your neck, already making your eyes roll.

Sam leaned against the impala, growing more and more impatient as the time moved on, with a final sigh of annoyance he went back to Dean and your shared motel room, "Dean I've been waiting almost an hour dude serio-" Sam started to yell but was quickly cut off by the door opening revealing you dressed only in deans long red flannel, your cheeks red and your hair a mess "I'm sorry Sammy, we'll be right out in two minutes, I swear" you told him quickly shutting the door in the stunned Winchesters face 

Sam was in awe of you, ever since you and Dean came to get him from Stanford four years ago he knew there was something about you that just warmed his heart, how kind you were to him and when Jess passed, you let him cry in your arms many nights after, how beautiful you were, how smart you were, you were like a walking encyclopaedia. He knew how wrong it was, having a crush on Deans girlfriend. he just couldn't help himself 

Every day was an internal battle for Sam, he wanted you, he wanted you more than he's ever wanted anything, but he sees how much his brother loves you, and that's what kills him even more, he would never want to hurt his brother. He just couldn't help himself, especially when he heard your moans through every crappy motel walls, hell he's even walked in on you both going at it  more times than he'd ever like to admit, you would think after the eitgth time Dean would learn to lock his damn door.

It definitely didn't help Sam keep himself composed when he was popping boners left and right with the images of you after being fucked, even if wasn't by him flash through his mind constantly.

"Alright, give us the run down Sammy" dean said as he drove away from the red room motel Sam stayed quiet as he tried to avoid looking at you sitting in the back seat "Sammy!" Dean called loudly snapping his fingers in his face startling the seasoned hunter "w-what?" He stuttered out confused "gives us the run down... are you feeling good, not like you to be so out of it man" dean turned to look at him quickly worry evident in his voice 

"Yeah fine just tired. didn't sleep great"  Sam mumbled out tucking his growing hair behind his ears "you sure sweetie? you look a little pale, maybe your coming down with something. c'mere let me check your temperature" you said leaning into the front to feel his forehead "w-what no no I'm fine not sick I'm just tired so just drop it and leave me the hell alone!" Sam said flinching away defensively, if you touched him right now he was definitely gonna go crazy 

Dean turned to give Sam a hard look "watch it Sam, she was only trying to help you, no need to bite her damn head off!" Sam snorted "whatever" he pushed himself as close to the passenger side ignoring his brother for the rest of the ride his eyes stared hard out at the road as he tried to focus on the hunt... and not how good your breasts look in that shirt .

Dean looked at Sam then gave you a concerned look matching your own in the rear view mirror. 

When you got to the Swanson house you both  decided to let Sam take the lead in questioning considering he didn't give you any details on the death, what he suspected, could be demon, ghost... literally anything at this point.

"Any idea what's up with Sam?" You asked Dean watching as Sam spoke to the victims heartbroken husband, Dean sighed his eyes narrowed at his little brother trying to figure out what's going on in his head "not a clue but I'll talk to him about it" dean grumbled out squinting his eyes at his younger brother.

It was a quiet drive back to the motel , Sam was laser focused on watching the blurs of houses and cars, you couldn't help yourself but looking at him worried, you were sure he could feel your eyes burning a hole into the back of his head. Even if he did feel it he never let on, never acknowledged you or dean were in the car too.

Once Dean parked baby Sam was rushing out toward his motel room. Dean slammed the car door annoyed before turning to look at you his hard eyes softening "I'm gonna talk to Sammy see if I can get him to talk about wheatever the hells bothering him" dean told you before planting a soft kiss on your lips "okay baby, I'm gonna take a walk and go grab us some snacks and beer, hopefully Sammy opens up to you" you wrapped your arms around deans neck, his own on your hips as he had you pinned tight against the impala

Dean shook his head pulling baby's keys out of his pocket "your not walking anywhere sweetheart, I trust you'll take care of my baby, and my baby will take care of my sweetheart" dean joked making you giggle, your cheeks heating up as you licked your lips "you Dean Winchester are a man of many surprises... and I quite like that about you" dean caught your lips once again in a soft kiss his tongue slipping into wrestle with your own before giving your ass a hard smack. You gasped and pulled away your body feeling hot at his actions 

You put your hands on deans chest lightly pushing him away from you "alright I better go, good luck talking to Sam" dean shook his head his green eyes turned to look at Sam's closed motel room door sighing "yeah I'm gonna need it". 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Your nerves were all over the place as you walked around the small corner store. You hated when Sam and Dean would fight, on one hand, Dean is your boyfriend you can't help but take his side most of the time, but Sam was your best friend. It just put you in such a shitty position until the boys eventually swept it under the rug. You grabbed a bunch of snacks because you knew Dean was an angry eater and he usually stuffed his face with liquorice and chocolate after any arguments, or if you were having make up sex and dean was still a little mad he'd eat something else...

You opened the door to your motel room so see Dean pacing the floor his hands running through his hair, clearly he was frustrated and seemed pretty anxious "how'd it go sweetie?" You asked him setting the bag of goods and beer on the table "I- uh- fi-fine yeah I guess" dean stuttered out as his pacing continued "dean what's wrong? Is it bad- oh my god please sit down your freaking me out!" You snapped grabbing deans arms stopping him from moving any further "it's nothing I just... look you know how much I care about you. Id do anything for you no matter what it was, I just when you talk to Sam please remember that" dean told you his hands coming to rest on the sides of your face his worried eyes staring into your own

"Wha- talk to Sam? Dean what's going on why do I need to talk to Sam?" You were freaking out why the hell was Dean Winchester, the man who hides what he feels on the daily pouring his heart out to you now of all times. Dean leaned in catching your lips in a slow sensual kiss, pulling away to rest his forehead against your own "I promise everything will make sense if you talk to Sam" Dean whispered "okay let's go" dean shook his head immediately "I don't think I should be around Sammy right now I'll wait for you here" okay now you were officially freaking the fuck out

You nodded slowly and headed out to towards Sam's motel room next door. You stared at the red door taking a couple of deep worried breaths before knocking. It took three seconds after the last knock until the younger Winchester was opening the door his cheek looking slightly swollen "hey... come on in" Sam said moving to the side to allow you in "hey... so what's going on? Dean seemed pretty upset" you told him, Sam sighed and ran his hands down his face his eyes closed tight "it's stupid. It's so stupid I just don't know what to do anymore I've been... fuck this is hard-" "Sam! Spit it out please!" You yelled cutting off his rambling 

"....Y/N, I think I'm in love with you" once the words left Sam's lips your whole body froze. You felt like the air was sucked right out of you. "You what?" You asked "I think I'm in love with you... it started a couple of years ag-" "Years! what the fuck do you mean years Sam? How many?" You cut him off "i- I lost Jess and then you... you were there for me and it just kinda escalated from there. Look I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be in love with my brothers girlfriend, I've felt like the worst person in the damn world every day because of this... I just I can't help it" Sam confessed

"Sam Jess passed four years ago. Are you telling me you've had feelings for me since then?" You asked him calmly and he nodded quickly "honey I don't think your in love with me. I think you went through an extremely traumatic experience with Jess and me being there for you every day. I think your confusing the feelings you had for jess to me. Sam, I love you because your my best friend... and I'm with dean and I haven't even told him yet but I love him Sammy..." you told him and Sam took a deep breath "I uh i guess I never thought about it like that. I think your right I'm confusing my feelings I had for Jess to you" Sam agreed making you relax 

"I'm sorry I sprung all this on you and Dean today. When you put it like that it makes sense... I mean Jess was the love of my life… I even had a ring. Before you and Dean came to Stanford I had it all planned out, then it was taken away from me in the blink of an eye... and dean still has you-" Sam paused taking a shaky breath "I guess I'm just jealous of you guys, of what you have with each other. I've never seen Dean love someone so much and that's why me feeling like this bothered me so much because I want my brother to be happy and I want my best friend to be happy too" Sam ended his speech and you had tears falling down your cheeks feeling your heart break at his words

"Sammy I'm so sorry about what happened with Jess. You deserved to have the happy life you always wanted with her" Sam nodded his eyes filling with tears he sucked in a harsh breath of air "yeah.... I miss her every day. I just... I want what I had with her back- I want Jess back, I see you and Dean and I want that. Jesus I fucking had that. Life deals me the crappy hand of yellow eyes and Jess has to pay for it?" Your cheeks were wet with tears, you couldn't help but bawl at Sam's words. Life had been so cruel to the Winchesters 

"I know honey... I know. It's not fair, I know you feel like Jess was the one for you but sam, I only met her once and I seen how much she loved you. She would want you to get out there and find the girl your meant to spend your life with, it's not me, but she's out there... she's just waiting for you to find her" you smiled taking his big hand in yours and giving it a comforting squeeze. Sam nodded slowly 

"I really i appreciate that Y/N, I'm glad this crap got brought out. Talking to you has really made me feel a lot better about this so thanks, I uh do you mind giving me some time just to think. I kinda want to be by myself now" Sam told you and you nodded heading towards the door, Turing to take one last look at the sad giant "we're right next door if you need anything at all, okay Sammy?" His lips curled in a soft smile and he gave you a quick nod.

Once the door was a shut you leaned against it your hand going to your chest as you took a deep breath, hunting gouls was easier than that damn conversation. Your heart was beating like crazy thinking back on every word, Sam thought he was in love you, I mean of course he wasn't. He was in love with the idea of you... of love that's what he wanted.

You squeezed your eyes shut to calm down before going back to your and Deans room. You opened the door to find Dean sat at the edge of the double bed, his head facing the ground as his hands ran through his hair “Dean?” You called to him. His head snapped towards you his feet moving faster than the rest of his body as he stunned his way toward you “Y/N…. H-how’d it go? Did you-” “talk to Sam… yeah we had a long talk. I think everything’s gonna be just fine now” you told him 

Deans shoulders visibly relaxed, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a hug “thank god… thought I was gonna have to kick his ass” dean joked but you thought back to Sam’s swollen cheek. You pulled back from the hug and gave dean a hard look “Dean Winchester… did you punch your brother because of me?” 

Dean shook his head quickly “no of course not… I punched him because he told me he wanted to be with my girlfriend, maybe had he phrased it better to me I wouldn’t have lost my temper but if someone tells me they want to be with my girlfriend and they’re in love with her… I’m gonna loose my shit” you tried to hide the small smirk from your face by leaning in to give dean a hard kiss on his soft lips “that’s really sweet baby. Please don’t fight with Sam because of me, seriously we had a really good conversation tonight” 

Dean noodles slowly “can you tell me what you talked about?” You smiled and sat down on the bed and pulling Dean with you so you were both laying down on the hard mattress “well he told me he was in love with me-” deans arm around your waist grew tense as he pulled you closer so your head was resting against his chest  “but we talked about things and we got to talking about Jess and-” you paused taking a deep breath and looking up at dean to find him already looking at you 

“Sam is still hurting over Jess. He was confusing his love for Jess to love for me, thats all, he’s not In love me. He’s in love with the idea of love because he had that, then he lost it in the blink of an eye and then he sees us together. He just needs some time and he needs us to help him get back out there find a distraction, hey maybe even find the love of his life like m-” you stopped yourself quickly, Dean opened his mouth to say something but you quickly jumped back in

“We should take him out tomorrow, there’s a bar down the block. I saw it when we were driving earlier, it looks like it could be fun, what do ya say?” Deans eyes crinkled as he smiled lovingly at you. He loved how much you looked out for Sammy, it’s part of what made him fall in love with you. “I’m down, any time I get to spend with you I am down for it” dean told you taking your hand in his placing a soft kiss to it “how about we crack open those beers over there eat some junk food and watch a little Dr sexy?” Dean suggested. You smiled and nodded your head “i love that idea” you leaned up to give him a quick kiss before he grabbed the goods.

You were hours into the doctor sexy marathon you and dean had unintentionally started. Deans arm hung loosely around your waist while you cuddled comfortably into his warm side, your leg wrapped loosely around deans hips. You looked up to see deans green eyes lolling to sleep slowly, still somewhat awake “dean?” You whispered, his eyes opened quickly and he let out a low “yeah?” And turned his gaze to you “why were you so nervous earlier? Before I went to Sam’s room?” He sighed his body tensing slightly under you “I just… I hated the idea of you talking to Sam about his little crush on you because well, your my girl… and I love you” dean rushed out the end and your head snapped up 

“You what?” You asked your chest suddenly feeling tighter like your heart was about to explode “i love you sweetheart” dean told you more clearly this time. A smile immediately overcame your face as you rushed down to press a hard kiss on deans lips. Dean responded right away, his hands wrapping around your hips to pull you on top of him… well more than you already were

You pulled back slightly from the kiss pressing your forehead against his “I love you too Dean Winchester, so fucking much baby” you giggled your lips brushing against his in each movement. Dean pulled you back into another deep kiss his big rough hands squeezed your ass before moving up your waist to pull your shirt off leaving you in your black lacy bra. Your squealed into deans mouth when he ripped your bra in half, pulling the ruined fabric off off your arms baring your breasts to him. Deans lips detached from your swollen ones, he attacked you chest immediately placing kissing app over your chest, sucking love marks all over you, especially on your sweet spot to mark his territory.

Sam who was in the next room slammed a pillow over his head to drown out your screams of pleasure, Sam lied to you earlier, he meant it when he said he was in love with you. But when he saw your panic and how you talked about your one for his brother he panicked and wanted to take each word back, that’s why when you mentioned it being confusion over his love for Jess he jumped at it. He would never do anything to hurt you or dean he loved you both way to much to ever even  think about doing that to either of you, that’s why he was just going to have to swallow his feelings and curse chuck for not having you both meet first. He wished every damn night that he met you before dean, constantly living in guilt Sam knew he had to take his feelings for you and bury them deep inside of him, a life with you was just wishful thinking for the younger Winchester. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

ALL MY OWN WORK I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO COPY OR PUBLISH ON OTHER SITES , I.E WATTPAD, ETC, WITHOUT MESSAGING TO ASK FIRST

next to be written is Sam Winchester, hero part 2, this was requested and I'm hoping to get it published soon, until then please enjoy :))

[m3ntally-unstable]

Okay I love most tropes but “perfectly awesome relationship ruined by toxic best friend spreading fake news to both sides” THAT SHIT HITS DIFFERENT. ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY GET BACK TOGETHER IN THE END

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Go Easy | Sam Winchester Oneshot

Summary: Sam’s hiding a part of himself from his new, inexperienced girlfriend, but maybe he doesn’t have to. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Tags: teasing, flirting, mentions of virginity, mentions of liking younger women, angst, mentions of BDSM, Dom/sub vibes, mild BDSM, bondage, fingering, p in v

WC: ± 2.8K A/Ns: This was commissioned by someone who would like to remain anonymous! Hope you like it!

Sam Winchester Masterlist

“So, how did you two meet again?” 

There’s a sparkle in Dean’s green eyes that Sam knows only too well means that Dean hasn’t forgotten at all, and he’s only asking the question for one reason; to tease the living fuck out of him. 

“Urm, at the college library,” Y/N replies softly, clearing her throat and offering his brother a polite smile as she reaches for her glass of wine. 

“Of course you did,” Dean chuckles, “so you’re one of these brainy young professors too?” 

“Urr…” Y/N glances nervously at him, and Sam knows it’s his turn to step in and save her. 

“No, actually, Y/N is a student,” Sam needlessly reminds his brother, unashamedly. 

The smirk instantly curls over Dean’s lips as he chuckles, shaking his head. “A student, Sammy? You’ve been working there for two months and you’re already sleeping with the students, why am I not surprised?” 

Sam’s brow instantly pulls into a frown as he shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that, De,” he protests, looking over to see Y/N is also confused by Dean’s comment. 

“What does he mean?” she asks, blinking at him. 

“Nothing,” Sam insists. “He’s just being an ass.” 

Dean continues to chuckle, reaching for his beer and taking a long swig before swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Listen, we can just address the elephant in the room, okay?” he grins, looking between them. 

“Dean, no,” Sam warns, hoping his brother will realise he is barking up the wrong tree completely right now and will back off. 

“Oh c’mon, Sammy, we shared a bedroom wall long enough for me to know what you’re into. You’re hardly shy about it. And we’re all adults here… at least…” his eyes land back on Y/N, and Sam’s jaw clenches. 

“Jesus, Dean, she’s more than legal,” Sam grunts, wishing his legs were just a few inches longer so he could kick his brother under the table. 

“Relax, I’m teasing you both,” Dean laughs easily, lounging back in his chair with his beer in hand. 

Sam glares over at his older brother for a moment, before looking across at Y/N to make sure she’s okay. She seems a little flustered, but before he can reach out to take her hand in hopes of relaxing her a little, she rises to her feet and softly excuses herself. Sam watches her leave, heading towards the bathroom, and then turns his attentions back to his brother. 

“Seriously, dude?” he huffs. “Now she probably thinks I’m some pervert.” 

“Well, from what I’ve heard–” 

“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam interrupts. 

“Oh, c’mon Sammy, you’re not exactly quiet about your… tastes,” Dean argues, smirking slightly. “I’m just saying that she’s exactly the kind of girl I thought you’d date.” 

“It’s not like that, De,” Sam protests, “not with her.” 

Dean cocks an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe him. “So you’re telling me you’re not dating a younger woman who’s all quiet and reserved because she’s exactly the kind of girl who obeys your every command?” he mocks. 

“She’s not like that,” Sam continues to argue, and he thinks maybe Dean is finally believing him, because a small frown pulls on his brow.

“Wait… really? This isn’t one of your… kinky things?” 

“No, Dean,” Sam scoffs, still amused by Dean’s naivety even after all this time. Sam’s tried on more than one occasion to educate his brother on the lifestyle, but Dean couldn’t be further from Sam when it comes to things like this. “We’re actually dating, she’s actually my girlfriend,” he explains. “My very inexperienced girlfriend you’ve probably completely freaked out, so thanks for that.” 

“Inexperienced?” Dean blinks, but then another cheeky smile lights up his face. “Sammy, you dirty dog!” 

“Dean–” 

“Well, in my defense, dude, you don’t date much.” 

“You didn’t think it was weird I’d asked you to meet her?” Sam questions. 

“I don’t know what happens between you and these girls,” Dean protests, shrugging. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he seems to get a little more serious, playing with his beer bottle. “So, is she open to what you like, or…”

Sam can tell that it’s a genuine question, so he doesn’t roll his eyes or complain, instead he takes a deep breath and decides to answer honestly. “I doubt it, we’ve never talked about it.” 

“So you’d pack it all in for her?” he asks next. “Do you like her enough to do that?”

“Yeah, I think I would,” Sam nods honestly. 

“Well then, I’m sorry dude, didn’t mean to freak her out.” 

Sam looks towards the door leading down the hallway towards the bathroom and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he tells his brother, realising he’s only trying to convince himself more than Dean. 

Y/N has been even more quiet than usual as they clean up after dinner. With Dean now gone, Sam was hoping she’d be a little more confident, like he’d noticed her becoming in the recent weeks, but she doesn’t say much as she clears away plates and carries them out into the kitchen, placing them alongside the sink. He watches her begin to run the hot tap, filling the sink up with warm, soapy water, and leans in the doorway just observing for a moment or two, wondering how he’s going to approach this. 

“Hey, let me do that, it’s my place,” he protests, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle. 

“It’s fine,” she insists softly. Sam places a soft kiss to the back of her head, and he watches as her movements slow and she clears her throat. “Sam, what did your brother mean when he said he’s not surprised that I’m a student?” 

“Nothing,” Sam half lies. “He was just being an older brother and trying to embarrass me.” 

“So you’ve not been with other students?” she checks, turning herself around and stepping out of his embrace to face him. 

“No, not since I was a student myself,” he tells her honestly this time. 

“Students your own age?” she asks next, almost challengingly. 

“Pretty much,” he nods. “Y/N, I’m not into young girls or anything,” he laughs awkwardly. “There’s not even ten years between us, it’s not about that for me. Look… can we just forget the whole dinner, please?” he pleads, already exasperated. 

She’s been spooked enough for one night, she doesn’t need to hear all about Sam’s twisted, kinky fetishes too. He’s kept those a secret for a reason. He didn’t know it when he first started dating her, but Y/N had been a virgin before they met, and he could still count on one hand how many times they’ve had sex. If he was ever going to show her that side of him, it wouldn’t be now. 

“So you’re not into young virgin girls?” she asks bluntly, blinking at him. 

“No, absolutely not,” Sam protests immediately, the very implication making his skin crawl. “Firstly, I didn’t even know you were a virgin when we met. Secondly, you’re twenty two, you’re not even a teenager anymore–” 

“Okay,” Y/N interrupts. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to accuse you of being a perv or anything, I just… when Dean said he knows what you’re into…” 

“He didn’t mean that,” Sam tries to explain. 

“Then what did he mean?” she presses, blinking at him again. 

Sam sighs heavily, not sure he can answer that honestly if he wants to keep her in the dark about his fantasies and desires. 

“Is it bad? Is that why you won’t tell me?” she implores. 

“No, it’s not bad,” he argues weakly, shaking his head. “I just don’t wanna freak you out, I know you’re new to all this.” 

“Maybe physically, but one of the perks to being late in the game means I’ve done a lot of research,” Y/N admits coyly. “So I’m not as naive as you think.” Sam’s eyebrows rise at her implication. “Just tell me, Sam, please?” she begs softly, a lot more seriously than before. 

Sam huffs a breath and licks his lips for a second, gathering his thoughts. 

“Usually, I like a certain… dynamic in the bedroom,” he tries to explain briefly. “But, I would never expect that from you, so I’ve never brought it up. I’m fine with the way things are between us,” he rushes to add for reassurance. 

“What kind of dynamic?” Y/N asks, seeming to ignore the second half of his comment. 

“Urm… me in charge… in control… y’know, pain for pleasure kind of thing,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heating up at his admission. Normally he’s a lot more sure of  himself, oozing confidence as he explains exactly how he expects it to go down between him and the girl he’s about to fuck. But Y/N is different, and he doesn’t want her running for the hills because of this. 

“So BDSM stuff?” she clarifies, biting her bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that stuff,” he nods. “So are you freaked out?” he asks, unable to stop himself. 

Y/N doesn’t answer at first, she just stares at him and swallows hard, and Sam’s pretty sure she’s about to break up with him, leave and never come back. But what actually happens takes him off guard, as his eyes follow her as she drops to her knees at his feet and settles into a kneeling position, looking up at him through her lashes. 

“What… What are you doing?” he stammers out, afraid that maybe she feels like she has to do this for him. 

“Something like this?” she checks. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“You don’t think I don’t know exactly what you want… Sir?” she asks softly, a tiny smirk beginning to spread over her lips. 

Instantly Sam’s cock begins to harden behind his jeans. It’s been a while since he’s seen a girl on her knees at his feet, and while he hears people call him Sir a lot thanks to his job, it feels so different hearing it come from her lips in that tone. 

“A-are you sure?” Sam checks sincerely for a moment. 

She doesn’t reply to begin with, she just reaches out, softly running her hand up his leg, over his thigh and towards the now obvious bulge in his pants. 

“Like I said, I’ve done my research, I know what I like the look of,” she explains, her hand now cupping his cock through the denim, making Sam’s head a little foggier. “I wanna know if it’s as good as it looks, I want you to teach me,” she purrs, blinking at him seductively. “Just go easy on me?” 

Sam reaches forward, cupping the side of her face. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he confirms, feeling her lean into his touch. “I’ll guide you through it.” 

Your POV

Holy fuck. 

Sam’s teeth drag down your throat, his large hands finally releasing your wrists above your head, smoothing down your arms. 

“Leave them there,” he growls against your skin, his hands now finding your breasts, fondling them for a moment or two before reaching around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan, arching your back into him, your hands finding his long hair so you can card your fingers through it. “I said, leave them there,” Sam growls, instantly pinning your hands above your head once more. “Don’t make me tie them up.” 

Just the very thought of him tying you to the bed, making you completely at his mercy makes your insides flutter with even more arousal that pools between your bare legs. 

“Please do,” you find yourself gasping, your brain foggy with arousal and desperation. 

“You’d like that, hm?” he smirks, leaning back to look at you. “You’d like me tying you up, using you however I want?” You instantly nod, desperate for just that. “Use your words, baby girl… always use your words with me,” he commands. 

“Y-yes I want that,” you confirm verbally. 

“Sir,” he adds for you. 

“Sir,” you also add, breathlessly. You’d always liked the idea of calling a guy Sir in the bedroom, but you never thought it would be this much of a turn on.

You watch him climb off of you, now standing at the foot of his bed as he reaches down for his jeans on the floor, and without taking his eyes off of you, he grabs the belt still in the loops and pulls it free. The sight is near enough orgasmic as you once again arch your back and moan, desperate for some attention between your legs. 

Sam uses the tail of his belt to trail up your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you squirm underneath him. 

“Maybe one day we can use this for something a little more entertaining,” he ponders, a wicked smirk curling over his lips. “But for now, we can make good use of it in other ways.” 

You feel him wrap the leather around both your wrists, and with only a few tugs, you find yourself bound to the headboard, unable to move your hands very far; unable to touch him anymore. And suddenly, you want nothing more. His cock is hard and practically dripping with precum on your thigh, and you want to wrap your hand around it, to give him some relief. But he seems unfazed by the lack of attention it’s receiving, instead focused on your body, and the way it’s writhing underneath him. 

His hazel eyes scan over what feels like every single inch, and he hums in appreciation, his hands beginning to ghost over your skin. When his touch begins to trail lower than your belly button, you find your legs widening as if to encourage him between them. He seems to oblige without any further teasing, which you’re grateful for, because you’re not sure how much longer you can take this. Your head feels like it’s going to explode. Being at someone’s mercy is so much better than it had been in your head all those times you’d gotten yourself off to the fantasy, or touched yourself to those videos you used to be so ashamed about liking. 

“Someone’s wet,” he notes, a smug grin on his lips at the fact. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

You nod desperately, bucking your hips against his fingers, feeling him rub your clit as you begin to moan. 

“Yes, Sir,” you rush to confirm, just about mustering enough sanity to remember to use your words like he’d commanded. 

“If you like this, wait until I train you to be the perfect little slut for me,” he growls, and you gasp for air as his fingers push inside you with his words, your head spinning with the mixture of the sensation and the very thought of his words. “This body is perfect, and it’s all mine, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes landing on yours. 

“All yours, Sir,” you confirm, breathlessly. “Please… please fuck me,” you find yourself begging, unable to take much more. You just want to feel him inside you; it’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, and you only wish you’d have met him sooner. 

“That’s not how you beg,” Sam growls, curling his fingers and making you cry out in pleasure. “Ask nicely, or I won’t fuck you at all.” 

“Please, Sir. Please will you fuck me? I need you to fuck me, please.” 

“That’s better,” Sam hums, removing his fingers and stroking his cock, slicking it with your juices from his fingers. “Such a good girl, I can tell you’re going to do so well,” he praises. 

He leans over you, teasing the tip of his cock through your arousal, softly pressing against your opening as he chuckles at your desperation. You buck your hips in hopes that he’ll slide deeper, but he holds back, smirking almost evilly down at you, clearly relishing in just what he’s driven you to. 

“Please, Sir,” you beg one last time, barely audible through your gasps for breath. 

Sam leans down, bringing his mouth close to your ear, his cock still only just inside you. “I love the way that sounds on your lips,” he breathes out, his cock throbbing as if to prove his point. “I can’t wait to show you exactly how I like it.” And just the thought of this getting even better, has you on the edge.

[ninii-winchester]

Uncertainty

Pairing : Sam Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.8k

Warnings: angst, spoilers for 10x5 (Fan Fiction), language, mentions of Jessica, unedited.

A/n : Wrote Sammy for the first time. Hope you enjoy

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Love, how would one define the complexity of the emotion named love. Falling in love in an intricate feeling that encompasses a range of emotions. A person falls in love multiple times throughout their lifetime, so how would you conclude it's actually love.

"Hey!" Sam snapped his finger in front of Y/n's face pulling her out of her thoughts about the complex emotion. "You zoned out."

"Uh yeah I'm sorry, what were you saying?" She asked straightening up again.

"Dean found us a case. An all girls school teacher went missing in Michigan." Sam informed her. She nodded her head affirming she heard him this time.

"I see, how is it our thing again?" She questioned.

"Well we're not sure but Dean thinks it's worth checking out." Sam replied grabbing his things from the table. "Meet you outside in ten?" She nodded her head again standing up from the chair. "Hey are you okay?" He asked holding her arms.

"I'm fine." She replied vaguely.

"you don't seem fine, are you sure you're okay?" Sam was worried and it was evident on his face.

"I'm fine." She repeated but this time she managed to give him a smile.

"I'll let it go for now." He said leaning down to peck her lips. "But you know can talk to me about anything right?"

"Yeah. I'll meet you outside." Y/n said and Sam left her to pack her stuff up. She let out sigh grabbing her bag and putting her stuff inside.

She hadn't been well, physically she's fine. Emotionally, not so much. Sam and her have been together for as long as she can remember. But it has been a bumpy ride. Their relationship wasn't all rainbows and sunshine, not because of their lives as hunters but she felt there's always been something between the two of them, some sort of a distance that maybe only she felt. Sam always had other priorities, his brother, the world, hell or heaven. Sometimes she wondered did he actually love her or was with her for the sake of it. To avoid the loneliness that comes as part of the job.

The blaring horn of the Impala broke her out of of her thoughts, she grabbed her bag and walked out of the motel room they were staying in.

"What were you napping in there?" Dean commented as she open the door to backseat.

"Yeah was dreaming about crashing your Baby." She retorted without missing a beat. Dean gasped dramatically, turning to look at her in the backseat.

"You take that back, woman." She rolled her eyes at his antics. Dean turned to Sam who was having the time of his life watching his brother lose it over a small comment. "Sammy tell your girl to take it back." Sam just laughed shaking his head. Any other time her heart would've fluttered being called Sam's girl but now it just seemed to be taunting her.

"Just drive, would you?" Y/n told Dean, her voice low and tired that wasn't missed by either brother.

Y/n slept in the backseat the for the whole ride, or as they thought. She was awake but didn't feel like being a part of a conversation so she pulled her jacket over her face.

Once they found a motel room, the three of them changed into their Feds outfits. They arrived at the school while Sam got off the phone with the local police officer.

"The last place Mrs Chadler was seen by anyone was at the auditorium, she's the drama teacher." He informed as the three of them got out of the car.

Y/n followed behind the two men as they continued to bicker about 'theatre kids.' The principal showed them to the auditorium and their jaws dropped the moment they entered inside.

"What the fuck?" Y/n exclaimed as she took in the scene in-front of them, a banner was set up above the stage which "Supernatural: the musical." She heard familiar words being yelled like 'idjits or hey ass butt'. A girl wearing a leather jacket supposedly "Dean" started singing their about their life story. The boys opened and closed their mouth clearly thrown off by the barbarous act.

Two girls approached them, one was wearing a red beret and both of them had glasses on. She introduced the both of them and continued blabbering thinking they're from the publishers. Sam interrupted her.

"I'm Special Agent Smith and these are my partners Special Agent Smith," he pointed to Dean, "and Special Agent Wood." He gestured towards Y/n. "we're here to look in to the disappearance of-"

"There is no singing in Supernatural." Dean interrupted Sam and Y/n stomped on his feet subtly.

"We're here to talk about Mrs Chandler's disappearance." She added quickly. "She was last seen here so we were hoping you could show us around."

"Uh sure." Said Marie, "I'll do that, and Maeve can show you the sound booth." She said pointing to the other girl.

"Alright Agent Smith." Y/n said turning to Sam , "you can go with Maeve while Agent Smith and I check out the stage area." Sam nodded letting Maeve lead him.

Marie turned around walked down a few steps Y/n followed behind her but Dean stopped her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why do you two keep asking me that?" She sighed and he gave her look.

"Because you're acting weird." Dean concluded as if it's the most obvious thing.

"I don't wanna talk about it." She said turning back to walk down.

"So there is something." He called out from behind her.

"De-" she stopped herself from saying his name. Before she could say anything Marie called out to them,

"Agents?" She was waiting for them to join her, Dean muttered a 'later' to her before going over to Marie and Y/n rolled her eyes following him.

Marie continued to blabber about supernatural and Dean kept engaging with her, telling her what actually happened after Chuck stopped writing any more books, Y/n had tuned off the rest of their conversation. She tuned back in she heard Marie say,

"I'm a Sam girl. I like Dean too but Sam..." she trailed off with a dreamy sigh. "And you know as much I like Y/n's character I think their relationship is forced." She said nonchalantly.

Dean watched Y/n face turn into a frown so he spoke, "well I don't think so. I think they're great together. They love each other."

"I mean yeah Y/n does I guess but Sam? Not so much." They continued walking and reached the back stage.

"What makes you think that?" Dean snapped unintentionally. Marie looked taken aback but she replied as cooly as possible.

"There's barely any romance between them. Hell Dean's got more action, with different ladies combined, than them." She said stopping before the curtain where they could see the girls rehearsing on the stage.

"Alright whatever, thank you for showing us around." Dean replied. "give us a minute." Marie left off to do whatever it was that she did.

"Don't." Y/n said as soon as Marie left. She knew what he was gonna say and she didn't want to hear it. He sighed and dropped it.

The whole time they were at the school the air had been awkward. Y/n had been zoning out more often and Sam was getting worried. They were successful in killing the Calliope and saving Marie and others. Sam asked Dean if he knew what's wrong but the older Winchester just told him to talk to her. They left the school and arrived at their motel within minutes. Dean knew a conversation between the couple was long due so he announced his departure and left the room.

"Baby." Sam called out reaching for Y/n. He hugged her figure from behind wrapping his arms around her smaller body. "You've been distant."

"Have I?" She didn't intended to be snarky but it came out as that.

"What's wrong?" He asked turning her around, still holding her in his embrace. "Hey! Talk to me."

"Why are you with me Sam?" Her question caught him off guard.

"Because I love you! What kinda question is that?" He asked offended she'd even ask him that.

"I don't think so!" She exclaimed getting out of his arms. "It's been gnawing at me for a while now Sam, this, us, I feel like I'm just a chore to you." Sam's face fell at her words. He knew they haven't been able to spend some lone time together but he didn't think she'd felt that way.

"That's not true at all. Damn it." He said running his hair through his hands. "I had no idea you felt that way." He made her sit on the bed and kneeled in-front of her.

"Sometimes I feel like you never got over Jess. And I'm just there to fill the space she left behind." She whispered ever so lowly she wasn't even sure if he heard her. But he did and damn did it break his heart. She felt bad bringing up his dead girlfriend but that's how she felt. And if they're having the talk then they'll talk.

"Fuck." Sam exhaled loudly. He cupped her cheeks in his large hand, resting his forehead on hers. "Yea I loved her." He started "but I am in love with you, irrecoverably. I am so sorry that I couldn't show you how head over heels I am for you. I guess I got carried away in our problems that I didn't notice. Truth is I wouldn't last a day without you, baby. This job, hunting it's all meaningless if you aren't by my side."

"You mean all that?" Y/n questioned, looking at him with watery eyes. He smiled nodding, his own eyes a bit glazed.

"I do. I know I've been an idiot and I'm so sorry for hurting you." Sam said holding her close. "But I'd make it up to you."

"You promise not to let anything else come between us?" She asked him.

"I promise, my love, honest to God." Sam kissed her, and she kissed him back. His hands moved down to hold her neck, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He gently removed her shirt and threw it somewhere across the room. He picked her up and laid her on the bed. He hovered above her trailing kisses down from her jaw to her neck. She tugged on his shirt which he gladly removed. "I love you. So much." He said getting on too of her again. He placed his lips on her collarbone, sucking hard, intent on leaving a mark.

"I hope you-" Dean's voice was heard as he opened the door "ah God dammit." He yelled closing the door.

Sam groaned making Y/n laugh. He pressed his lips to her ceasing her laughter. She closed her eyes as he conveyed all his love and adoration through the tender kiss.