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imagineteamfreewill · 13 days

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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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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 months

Text

She Stays (Part 3)

Summary: Could you please write one where student!reader appears in Supernatural universe taken from normal life and becomes an angel? Pairing Sam/reader?

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Sam x student!/angel!reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: Wow this is only how many years late? I know it’s been asked for many times for more of She Stays and here it is! Please enjoy this final part!

________

“Ow,” you heard Dean shout from the kitchen. When you came in he was sucking on his finger. “Cut it,” he mumbled, moving to the sink to run it under some water. He hissed as the cold hurt and you yanked his hand away.

“That needs stitches,” you said, Dean letting you twist his hand around. He smiled as he nodded approvingly.

“Yes it does,” he said, your hand reaching out and pulling a fresh towel to wrap it in. “You’re coming up to speed on the medical side of things,” he said. “Sammy’s been a good teacher.”

“I like when Sam teaches me,” you said, pulling him along to grab a first aid kit. “You on the other hand...”

“I’m an asshole who doesn’t give you an inch of slack, right?” asked Dean, putting on his mentor face. “Sam would go too easy on you in fights and target practice. You know it too.”

“I know, Dean,” you said, fiddling through the bag to find a needle and thread. “I don’t feel like I make any progress with you though. Sam tells me I’m doing a good job at least.”

“Kid,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist before you grabbed the supplies you needed. “You’ve come a long way in two months. I might even let you go on a salt and burn by yourself.”

“Really?” you said, eyes lighting up.

“No, but only because Sam would kill me,” said Dean, chuckling as he moved your hand to the towel. “I know you can stitch and blood doesn’t bother you. Go ahead and try.”

“No, Dean,” you said, jerking your hand back. He frowned and feigned sorrow.

“Guess I’ll just bleed out since, Fledgy wouldn’t help me,” said Dean, holding up his finger.

“I need Cas,” you said, Dean scowling hard as he hoped onto the counter. The hunting stuff, that wasn’t so bad compared to knowing you had these abilities. You were still too scared to use them without Cas close by, afraid of hurting someone.

“I trust you,” said Dean, holding out his hand. “I’m in worlds of pain here, Kid. Help a guy out.”

“Dean, I don’t want to,” you said, reaching for the medical bag again. “Angel stuff is not your area, remember, it’s Cas’.”

“I’m also bad cop,” said Dean. “Now try or I’ll work you so hard today so you’ll be too tired to go on your first date with Sammy.”

“Thank dad you’re not my soulmate,” you said, Dean chuckling as you grabbed his wrist. “Just don’t move or anything.” Dean stopped playing as he moved the towel back and you saw it still gushing blood. You thought of how big a cut it was, how it was deep and throbbing. You pictured it in your mind and then how it was supposed to be.

Dean shut his eyes as you let warmth trickle from your fingers and told your grace to heal him. Dean jerked a little but when you pulled back he was good as new.

“I didn’t tell you about the bruise on my knee,” said Dean, shoving his pants up and seeing the black and blue mark missing.

“I wanted it to heal whatever was wrong with you,” you said a little timid. It felt intimate to heal someone, like you were touching their pain for the briefest of moments.

“I won’t tell Cas if you won’t,” said Dean, hopping off the counter. “Now it’s time for your surprise.”

“Please no more push ups today,” you said, Dean chuckling as he pushed on your shoulders.

“You’re going on your first date with your soulmate tonight, kid,” said Dean. “I’m taking you to the mall to go pick out whatever you want to wear. Then I’ll tell you a bunch of horribly embarrassing stuff about Sam you can bring up at dinner if you feel so inclined.”

“You’re such a good big brother,” you said, Dean already moving the two of you towards the garage.

Dean had surprisingly been a good shopping buddy. You picked out a few simple black dresses but Dean had found one with an open back that you fell in love with. You weren’t sure at first how it would look on you but once you were in a pair of heels even you couldn’t help but think you looked hot.

Leaving your room wearing it that night, knowing it was just you and Sam in the bunker, you felt a little silly. You weren’t going out or anything, it was dinner at home. But Sam had asked if you could wear a dress so your first date wasn’t in flannels and ripped jeans and you wouldn’t deny him that request.

“Hi, Y/N,” said Sam, working over the stove. “Could you grab...” he trailed off when he spun around and saw you. You could feel him light up as he lost the ability to speak.

“Plates?” you asked, Sam nodding, his eyes glued to every part of you. “Sam, I’m not that pretty.”

“You’re gorgeous,” said Sam, a little breathy. “You’re always beautiful but...I’ve never seen you dressed up before.”

“Slight improvement over you sweats and tee from that first day,” you said, stepping beside him to reach plates from the cupboard.

“You’re comparing apples and oranges babe,” said Sam, reaching up and grabbing the too high plates for you, an excuse to get you close dawning on you. “I love both those outfits. Anything really. I can almost see your wings in your back like that.”

“Sam,” you said, looking down shyly. “I don’t have my wings yet.”

“Yes you do,” he said, ignoring the cooking and running a hand up to the back of your neck. “They’re just very small right now,” said Sam, his hand moving lower and lower until his long fingers scrapped over the ridge of your shoulder blade.

You giggled as it tickled, the motion pulling something from you that you hadn’t quite felt before.

“Beautiful snow white,” said Sam. “They’re right there, just under the skin. I can’t wait to see them when you’re full grown.”

“How do you know what they look like if you can’t see them?” you asked, resting your head on Sam’s shoulder. You would stay like this forever, him touching this vulnerable spot you didn’t know you had, making you tingle and smile all over.

“I just know,” said Sam, tilting your head back so he could cup your cheek. “I’m glad we took it slow. Got to be best friends first before trying this.”

“There’s no trying, this is...” you said, letting your angel side take over for a minute. “Cas told me something, about fledglings.”

“You’re very pure creatures,” said Sam. “It’s okay, Y/N. He told me too.”

“Then you know we can’t get frisky or anything like that at all,” you said, backing away from him, seeing the hurt on his face. “Where I came from, it didn’t matter but here...you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“Spending forever with my soulmate? Yes that does sound awful,” said Sam, taking a step closer wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m not scared, Fledgy. I will never pressure you one way or the other. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a preference for how things will turn out between us.”

“I’m not too young?” you asked, Sam unable to fight back a laugh.

“That’s...that’s what you’ve been worried about?” asked Sam with a smile. “I’m barely older. Fledgy, I love you. Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever stop that. Before you ask, I love you for you, not because of this soulmate thing. I’ve felt that perfect at home feeling with you every second I’m with you since the start, before we touched.”

“Can we eat dinner later?” you asked, the burnt smell of chicken filling your nose. “I’d like to do something with you first.”

“Make me yours, Y/N.”

Dean got home after midnight, only slightly buzzed as he found you and Sam eating pizza on the counter in pajamas.

“How’d the date go you two?” asked Dean, stealing a piece of your leftovers. “Going to be a second one?”

“Yup,” you said, Sam eyeing you up and down.

“Yup,” said Sam, a smirk on his face.

“Is this some couple thing or some angel thing?” asked Dean, watching the both of you. “Or did you two do it finally?”

“All of the above,” you said, Sam smacking your arm playfully. “Hey, someday I’m going to be stronger than you ya know.”

“That’ll be fun in bed,” said Sam, winking as Dean looked ready to gag. “Fledgy’s growing up,” said Sam, holding up a single perfect snow white feather. Just like he’d said it be.

“Angel’s getting her wings, huh? All you two had to do was go at it?” asked Dean, genuinely curious about the fledgling rules as they seemed to differ than a normal angel.

“Actually, it kind of...made me more human in certain areas,” you said, wondering if Dean would be angry. “Mating as a fledgling, with a human, it turns off that angel bit that let’s me...live forever. Normal life expectancy for me now.”

“Makes sense,” said Dean, both you and Sam raising an eyebrow. “Why would Chuck make soulmates that don’t get to be together when it’s all said and done? You two must really like each other to do that.”

“He’s okay,” you said, bumping into Sam’s ribs with a smile.

“It’s not so bad having an angel looking out for me,” said Sam, holding onto your feather like it was precious.

“So you get anything else new while I was out beside some feathers?” Dean asked, silently reaching out to Sam asking to look at the one in his hand. Sam handed it over carefully as Dean inspected it. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool.”

“Too bad you can’t see them like Sam,” you said, moving your left wing to tickle his arm, still so small it didn’t jut out past your back, Sam smirking and Dean looking on confused.

“Don’t stay up too late having angel sex, we’re going to work on werewolves tomorrow,” said Dean. “Night Sammy. Fledgy.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a full day a head of you,” said Sam. “Make sure to carve in some time for your boyfriend if you can.”

“I can always make time for him,” you said, brushing your wing up against his arm again, making Sam laugh.

“Let’s go to bed,” said Sam, hopping off the counter and picking you up.

“I’m not tired though,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I said go to bed, not sleep, Fledgy,” said Sam with a wink. “I got too much energy I need to burn off before I even think about curling up with you all night long.”

__________

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bitchylandtyphoon · 9 months

Text

Important to me

Sam Winchester x Reader

(Y/N): your name

(E/C): eye colour

(C/C): celeb crush

Sam and Dean slowly descended the rusty black stairs, trying not to trip from exhaustion. Every nerve ending in their body was hypersensitive; their fingers and toes were cold; their eyes and heads pounded from lack of sleep; and a rotting stench was secreting from their overworn clothing. “Hey guys, how was the hunt?" you asked in a gentle voice to avoid elevating their migraine pain. Dean mumbled under his breath as he walked to his room; even Sam could only give a small smile and “tiring” as a response.

You’ve noticed how the boys have become more tired after their hunts. Maybe it was because you did all the research while they did all the dirty work, or simply because they were getting older. Either way, it’s been taking a toll on their health, and you know it wouldn’t be good in the long run.

Judging from their clothes, you assumed they’d be taking a shower before getting some shut-eye, but you didn’t want them to go to bed hungry.

Walking to the kitchen, you opened the white door of the fridge, which consisted of a few eggs, lettuce, and beer. Wow, no wonder these guys only eat out. Groaning, you grabbed your keys and coat, texting Sam and Dean that you'd be heading out, knowing disturbing them wouldn’t be the best idea.

——————————————————————— Sam walked out of the steaming shower, wrapping his lower body in a towel. Taking another to dry off his hair. He ran his long fingers through his hair, noticing it had become very coarse over the past few months. Sam thought back to a hunt when shards of a monster's guts managed to get stuck in his hair. He felt like it was a personal attack; a shower didn’t help as much as he wanted to either. He spent hours trying to get the red and black hard goo out, even asking Dean. Unfortunately, Dean was not very gentle and made Sam partially ball. He remembers how you saved the day with coconut oil and a small brush. You had to sit on a chair while Sam sat crisscrossed in between your legs. You guys were still getting to know each other, so it was an awkward moment, but after Sam felt your gentle nails and euphoric massage, he melted. His head rested on your bare, soft thigh as you worked on the sides of his head. He felt so much at peace that he could’ve slept right then and there. He chuckled as he ran his hand through his hair, wishing he could have some of that magic right now. He wanted the comfort you gave him.

Putting on his comfier clothes, he slid into his bed, falling soundly asleep with a fond yet tired memory passing through his head once more.

——————————————————————— You slide open the door, balancing heavy bags of groceries, a special box containing a slice of heaven for Dean, and the boys’ favourite drinks. You dropped the bags in the kitchen, unpacking them away into the cupboards and fridge. Knowing it would be a long night, you pulled out your phone and put some music on low. You then turned on the gas stove, grabbing the lighter out of the drawer to start the fire. Begin by taking out mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, and other foods, washing them before finely chopping them, and cooking them on low heat. You added seasoning and eventually smelled the delicious aroma emanating from the dish. Now you need to cook the meat.

————————————————— Each boiling drop from the shower head felt relaxing and painful as it fell onto Dean's hunched back. The heat soothed his ache, yet, the new bruises were sending another sensation of pain throughout his back. He groaned as he faced the shower head and allowed the pellets to hit his face, giving all his might to scrub away the dried-up blood and sweat embedded in his freckled skin. All he could think about was sleep, hoping to sleep as much as he could yet, knowing another case would cut his rest short. He took the white soap bar and breathed in the rose aroma it released, it reminded him of you. Dean was glad he had a girl like you in his life, no matter what was bothering his thoughts or physically torturing him, he knew he’d have you to patch him up. You were always there for Sam and him. Every time you carefully did his stitches, gave him a needed hug, fixed his tie or walked into your room, the smell would give him a sense of comfort. It reminded him of his younger days spent with his mom. It reminded him of home.

——————————————————————— You put on the blue oven kits cautiously taking out the crispy chicken from the oven. The meal was finished and so were the other dishes you made. You even had time to prepare healthy snacks and some of Sam’s favourite protein drinks. From a young age, you hated the thought of being a housewife and having to complete all the duties at home, but you knew it was the least you could do to cheer them up, adding much-needed order to their already chaotic lives. Plus, it was nothing compared to all they did for you after they took you in. You smiled as you admired the dinner table, for once looking like a normal family’s dinner table and not used as a summoning ground.

You knocked on Sam’s door to get no response, knowing the younger Winchester might’ve fallen asleep you went to go check on the other one. Knocking once again to hear a low “yeah…”. Pushing the door you see a half awake, now clean Dean, lying against the headboard watching TV.

“Hey,” you gently said. “How are you feeling?”. His eyes were still heavy with sleep but pupils dilated from insomnia. You could tell he tried sleeping but to no avail. “Listen,” you sit on the bed and see him smile a bit. “I know you’re tired but I made some food for you and Sam and you should eat. You’d sleep better with a full stomach. And I might have some pieee”. With that Dean jumped into his bunny slippers and strutted towards the kitchen in his pink nightgown. Chuckling at Dean's cuteness, stopping before leaving the room as you saw the big pile of bloodied clothes on the floor.

———————————————————————

“Hey Sam, I’m coming in.” You announced, entering the neat room, smelling a mix of pine trees and cheap cologne. You saw Sam’s large body lying on his stomach, a soft snore coming from his peaceful slumber. Quietly entering the room, you searched for his hamper, unlike the other one, Sam kept his dirty clothes in one, making it easier for you to take the clothes out of his room.

As you passed by Sam, you stood there watching him, taking advantage of the sliver of peace he was given. You put the hamper down slowly to not wake up Sam, getting on your knees, face level with Sam’s. You watched as his lips laid in a pouted style, opening once in a while to exhale, you took notes of the small moles, birthmarks and faint freckles scattered over his face like stars, noticing how perfect his nose was; never have you ever seen a perfect natural triangle. His thick dark brown eyebrows arched over his forehead symmetrically and his lashes fluttered gracefully as butterflies. His hair was your favourite part, ever since you helped take the guts out of his hair you missed the proximity and softness. His soft hair tickled the inside of your thighs and reminded you of a dog’s overgrown mane. It was beautiful to touch.

You then noticed the crevices appearing in his forehead and eye sockets. He starts to stir in his sheets, the peaceful expressions disappearing, turning into a pained one. He began making uncomfortable noises. He was going into a nightmare.

“Sam, hey wake up! Sam come on, wake up. It’s just a dream!” Sam’s head started moving side to side, the veins in his temple and neck protruding. His eyes were tightly shut and beads of sweat formed across his forehead. His hand gripped firmly onto the arm shaking his shoulder, the other gripping the the brown sheets. “SAM WAKE UP!” Shouting wouldn’t help anymore, looking around you see a cup of water on the nightstand.

——————————————————————— Sam jolted up with a gasp, cold water on his face which soaked most of his hair and nightshirt. He grasped onto as much air as possible, eyes wide trying to familiarize his surroundings. A sense of relief overcame him when he saw your concerned (e/c) eyes.

He saw how your eyes travelled over his face searching for an answer, too shocked or scared to say anything. He sighed, “Don’t tell Dean, please.”

“Ok, I won’t.” What was that, you thought to yourself, you’ve never seen this type of behaviour from him. “At least talk to me about it. You’ve been more tired than usual and it’s worrying. If you’re not gonna tell Dean, tell me.”

Sam smiled, his heart swell when he heard your confession. For once someone was listening to his struggles without ratting out to Dean.

“Um Sam…” Sam shares a confused look until you look down at your now red and numb arm. “Sorry!” Sam immediately retracts his arm away, allowing the blood to rush back to the area.

“It’s like you’ve never touched a girl before or something” you joke trying to lighten up the mood. He laughs under his breath. “Come downstairs and eat something.” You demanded as you rubbed your sore arm.

“It’s okay-“

“Sam.”

He grins his teeth as he sees your serious face. Cute, he thought.

You grab onto his large calloused hands and attempt to pull the giant out of bed, barely budging. “Oh my god, you are so friggin heavy. How are you built like a god with all that junk food?”

He jumps to his feet almost falling on top of you, your nose meeting his chest as the scent of fresh soap fills your nose. A blush rises to your skin at the proximity, looking up you see his brown eyes already staring down at you. You felt his thumb glazed over your smaller hands, which you both held onto each other. “So you think I’m built like a god huh?” Sam suggestively asks with a raised eyebrow.

Taking a quick step back, you playfully shove him away. “Haha very funny Indeed Winchester, get your ass downstairs.” Crossing your arms you wait till he exits his room, him and his footsteps disappearing into the hallway.

“(Y/n) THINKS I HAVE A HOT BODY” Sam shouts from the hallway; your eyes widen as instant embarrassment runs through your body. You hoped to god Dean didn’t hear or you’d never see the end of the teasing.

———————————————————————

You return to the kitchen to see two big babies chowing down on the meal you made, acting as if they hadn’t eaten in ages.

“(Y/n), THISH FWOOD ISH AMASHING” You barely make out the words as Dean continues to stuff his mouth with food. “What he said,” Sam says as he adds more food to his plate. You giggle as you sit next to Sam, glad to see them eating a proper meal. “Where did you even learn how to cook like this?” Dean asks. “My mom used to teach me the basics but then I picked it up more when I moved out. Haven’t cooked like this since University actually,” you answer. “So you’re gonna tell me we could’ve been eating like kings but you decided to torture us with takeout.” Dean jokes while dropping his fork on his plate. “I never hated you more.”

You burst out into laughter throwing your head back, “Please, you love me.” You say rolling your eyes. You noticed how Sam became quiet, twirling his food around a fork.

“Not as much as Sammy does,” Dean says with a devious smirk. Sam chokes on his food as you roll your eyes. “Very funny Dean” Sam glares at Dean.

“Sorry Sam but I’m off limits, too committed to (c/c).” You giggle as you jokingly twirl your hair. “He’s such a daring man dramatic sigh”.

“I’m gonna puke my food up if you keep acting like that,” Dean says with a disgusted face while trying to put even more food in his mouth.

You cheekily smile and see as Sam scoffs, taking note of the weird action. Dean gets up to put his plate away, you take this as a cue to start cleaning up the kitchen.

“Goodnight” Dean yells as he walks out the door. You and Sam both say goodnight. Then it hits you, that rascal. He left you and Sam in the kitchen alone. You can already feel the blood rushing to your ears, instead, you try to distract yourself by doing the dishes.

“Do you need help with anything?” His eyebrows knit together as he asks “Let me help clean at least.”

As much as you wanted him to rest, you couldn’t say no to him and his persuasion. Or maybe he had you wrapped around his finger. “Uh yeah, I’ll wash and you dry?” You offer pointing to the load of dishes. “Yeah, that’s great”. You grab the yellow sponge and begin scrubbing the sauces off the pots, leaving Sam to get the towel. Unmindful of you, you forget where the towels are, right in the cabinet in front of you, the towels stacked on the higher shelf. As you were about to move you felt Sam’s figure hover over your smaller frame. You freeze as you feel his body’s heat mingle with your cold body. His large hand rests on your lower back.

To another person, it could be a simple gesture, but to you, deep down you were screaming from the closeness of it all. Somehow Sam had always made you shy in his presence, you didn’t know if it was because of how smart and skilled he was that made you feel inadequate to him or how he made you weak in the knees with his beautiful…well everything. You’ve been close with other men like Dean, yet Sam’s touches and glances manage to get your cheeks red and heart pumping.

You mindlessly scrub a knife, hoping to finish the chore as soon as possible. “Ow ow ow…” you grimace in pain as the knife slices the side of your finger. You see Sam reacts quickly. Grabbing your hand and putting it under the faucet, turning on the cold water. “This looks pretty bad,” he says as he takes your hands in his. One hand holds on to your wrist while the other gently presses the cut, attempting to get as much blood out.

You could not imagine a more embarrassing moment, the one time you’re alone with Sam you embarrass yourself like a child. Yet you couldn’t ignore how Sam’s body was pressed against yours, you could feel the rough outlines in his body. The front of his leg pressed up against your butt.

“Does it hurt?” Sam asks, not looking away from the cut.

“It just stings but not too much” you reply, noticing the decreased blood spillage.

He takes your other hand and guides your fingers into mirroring his previous actions. “Don’t move I’ll be back”. His warmth fades and you stand still, waiting as the cold water cleans up your cut.

You throw your head back, groaning at your clumsiness.

——————————————————————- Hissing in pain, Sam dabs rubbing alcohol into your new cut. You’re now sitting in his room as it was the closest place with a first aid kit.

“There, all done. How does it feel?” Sam finishes wrapping a large bandaid around the wound.

“I am so much better now. Thank you, Sam.”

Sam gives you a soft smile and he cleans the area up, you watch as he picks up the remote and turns on the TV.

“I thought you were tired”

“Come on, it’s only like 10 pm. We’ll be fine.” Sam defends himself as he sits on the other side of the bed. “Come closer.” He pats the empty spot beside him.

You look stunned at what the Winchester is implying until you realize he means to lay against the headboard. You slowly get up, sitting beside Sam but leaving a good space between both your bodies.

“So what do you want to watch?” Sam asks as he starts surfing through movies on his TV.

“I’m okay with whatever.” ——————————————————————— You turn to Sam to talk to him about the climax when you realize he has dosed off. His head leaning back on the headboard, from the side it looked uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do, you decided to wait until the movie finished. ——————————————————————— You yawned as the movie neared its end, all the characters looking over the bleeding horizon as the camera zooms out. From the lack of movement, you assume Sam is still asleep. You take his phone off the nightstand and turn the do not disturb mode on, if other hunters need you, you’ll handle the case for them. He deserves some rest.

You pull out your phone to scroll through your private socials. Seeing a few edits of your (c/c) and quietly giggling to yourself. You take a glance at Sam, still dosed off. He looks better now. Wait, you look between your (c/c) and Sam. Omg, how did you not see it before? You groan internally as you stare at your phone; the long-haired, smart, well-mannered, and tall golden retriever guy. They were honestly so alike. You hoped the boys wouldn’t be able to see the resemblance.

You thought back to the moment at the table when you were gushing over (c/c) and Sam scoffed. Do you think he was jealous? No, no way. You calm yourself down before the redness reaches your face.

You felt a heavy weight shift onto your shoulder, his hair tickling the crevice of your neck. You didn’t want to wake him up by checking but it was very evident that Sam had fallen asleep on your shoulder. You could smell the sandalwood scent coming from his hair, wishing you could get more of the comforting smell.

Sam was tired and you knew it would be a big fuss if you woke him up. So, you stayed there, looking at the TV screen, trying to hold in any excitement or scream within you. The butterflies are swarming their way around your stomach. That is until you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your torso.

You stay still, unlike your body temperature which skyrockets at the sudden touch. You feel yourself being pulled towards him even more, his head snuggling dangerously close to your neck, his lips close to your skin. Sam’s hot breath created a burning sensation, your heat causing them to burn tenfold.

You weren’t gonna move, you couldn’t leave, you were stuck beside Sam for the rest of the night. You exhale trying to calm yourself; he’ll forget all about this tomorrow. This is totally what friends do. You cuddle and panic internally with Dean all the time. You couldn’t be lying more at this point. You shut your eyes, you carefully reach over to turn the nightlight off.

click

The only light was emitting from the faint blue light on the TV. Its light began to shut off as the room welcomed pure darkness.

So you lay there in the dark as you feel Sam’s body snuggled right up to yours, his arms holding you captive as his fingers twitch and graze you ever so often. This would be a dream if you guys were together. You’ve liked Sam ever since you knew him, and you love both him and Dean very much. Doing everything in your power to show how much you care for them. You just wanted Sam to love you and adore you the way you did.

You felt a wave of exhaustion hit you, and your own eyes became heavy with fatigue. Blinking slowly, you succumb to Sam’s comfort and allow your heavy head to lay on his.

#sam #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #samuel winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #tfw #tfw x reader #sam fluff #sam x reader fluff #Spotify

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supernaturallyedsheeran · 2 months

Text

In the Back of a Cop Car

SYNOPSIS: You find yourself sneaking into an airfield with Sam Winchester, only to be stopped by local law enforcement. **Inspired by Cop Car by Keith Urban**

PAIRING: Reader x Younger Sam Winchester

WORD COUNT: 1071

WARNING: FLUUFFF

CHARACTERS: Sam, Dean, female reader

FANDOM: Supernatural

You peer through the chain-link fence, the airfield before you, a sprawling maze of runway lights and distant hangars. The night air is cool against your skin as you stand beside Sam Winchester, the excitement palpable between you both. You can't believe you're actually doing this—sneaking into an active airfield just to watch planes take off and land.

Sam crouches low, scanning the area with a cautious intensity that's both thrilling and nerve-wracking. His eyes meet yours briefly, a flicker of a smile dancing on his lips before he gestures for you to follow him towards a secluded spot closer to the runway.

You find a spot close to the fence where you and Sam lay out your jackets, and sit down together, staring up at the sky. For what seems like hours, the two of you sit in silence, stealing glances at one another, listening to the distant rumble of jets taking off.

The distant roar of an approaching plane sends a thrill through you, and you find yourself laughing softly, caught up in the moment with Sam. He glances at you, and there's a warmth in his gaze that wasn't there before. For a moment, you forget the danger of being caught as you share in this stolen adventure.

"Hey I wanted to ask you something" Sam breaks the silence, taking in a deep breath, half smiling, watching the planes, and fixing his gaze to you

Suddenly his train of though it cut short by a beam of light that sweeps across the ground, accompanied by the authoritative shout of a security guard. Panic surges through you as you and Sam freeze, caught in the spotlight like deer in headlights. Before you can react, more lights converge on your position, and soon you're surrounded by uniformed officers.

"Hands where I can see them!" one of the officers commands, and you comply, heart pounding in your chest. Sam raises his hands slowly, his expression a mix of resignation and concern.

The next moments blur into a whirlwind of questions and explanations as you and Sam are escorted to a waiting police car.

You can hear Sam trying to take the blame, trying to convince the officer you had no part in this. You smile to yourself at the thought of innocent Sam Winchester trying to get you out of trouble. What would Dean think? He'd probably be impressed.

Inside the confined space of the back of the cop car, you steal glances at each other, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Sam's eyes meet yours, and this time, there's something different in his gaze—a softness, a recognition of the shared thrill and danger you've just experienced together.

"What were you going to ask earlier?" the thought reminded to you, as you watch another plane take off through the glass of the car door.

"Oh" Sam Chuckles to himself, shaking his head and looking down at his knees. "I was just going to ask if you... Wanted to be my girlfriend...Officially speaking." His smile faded as he looked up to you for an answer.

Your heart skipped a beat, a smile playing on your face "Now? Sam?" You smile bigger, realizing that you're both in the back of a cop car, hands in cuffs behind your backs, him just asking you what seemed to be a very significant question. "Is there another time you'd prefer?" He quips back, a smile spreading across his lips.

"No," you reply "I mean, yes I will be Sam of course." He bites his lip at your reply, his deep brown eyes piercing your own. "I wish I could kiss you right now" He growls, fidgeting with the cuffs behind his back, trying to lean closer to you, restricted by the seatbelt.

You laugh softly, the tension easing between you despite the circumstances. "Well, it was fun while it lasted," you reply, a hint of mischief in your voice.

Sam chuckles, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that?" he says, his tone affectionate, as he leans back in his seat.

You meet his gaze squarely, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. In the quiet of the police car, under the watchful eyes of law enforcement, something shifts between you and Sam. A connection forged in the excitement of the night and the shared thrill of adventure.

Suddenly a slam on the roof of the Cop Car brings you both back to reality. "Ok enough, time to go" Through the window on Sam's side, you see Dean leaning down to take a peak at you both, grinning from ear to ear at you both being in cuffs. "This is very cute and all, but we need to go. Now"

Dean had sweet talked his way with the officers (after Sam had given them his contact information) and after showing his own badge, the officers decided to let you both off with a warning.

You were slid out of the car, cold cuffs unchained from your wrists. As you turned around to walk towards Sam, he was already strutting at you with a confidence, free of his own confinements. Without a word, he grabs your face in his hands, and plants a deep kiss onto your lips, in the midst of the blue and red flashing lights. You grab onto his shirt, pulling his body into yours; your head swirling with the thought of Sam Winchester being yours; being on an airfield and law enforcement watching on, not able to do anything.

"Kids these days" You hear Dean laugh from the other side of the car "Sammy! Let's go!" As Sam let's go of the kiss, his hands still on your face, he smiles and chuckles to himself. "I've wanted that for a long time" You smile back at him. He takes your hand and walks with you behind Dean, back to Impala.

*. *. *. *. *.*. *. *. *. *.*. *. *. *. *.*. *. *. *. *.*. *. *. *. *.*. *. *. *. *.*. *. *. *. *.

As the Impala continues down the darkened road, you find yourself stealing glances at Sam, noticing the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his presence beside you feels strangely comforting despite being in the car with his brother. And in that moment, you realize with a sudden clarity that maybe this night wasn't just about watching planes—it was about finding something unexpected with Sam Winchester; and that during that daring escapade under the starlit sky would be the beginning of everything, with him by your side.

#sam winchester #winchester #sam x reader #sam x you #young sam winchester #fluff #sam fluff #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #spn fic #spn fanfiction

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p3ndeja6 · 5 months

Text

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

c.brock x latina! y/n

summary: you moved to LA to be with your long distance boyfriend, you were having a great time, but after a couple of months you started to feel homesick and missed your hometown and your culture

content tags: spanish speaking reader, mexican reader, cultural references, overall a hispanic reader, not proof-read

word count: 1.6k

fluff ❀﹐

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Y/N

I've loved my time here in LA with colby and sam and all their friends but i recently fell in a funk. I miss my family and my friends.

you were scrolling through your photos and snapchat memories of your time in your hometown and started to feel really homesick, you began to cry, you laid back on you side and cried.

you missed your mom's delicious cooking, how she would make handmade tortillas, or her salsa picante. you didnt have that here and nor did anyone make it, you didnt have any hispanic friends in LA. You would only hang out with sam and colby's friends

you liked them but they sometimes including colby didnt understand your jokes or references. it sometimes pained you that you felt out of place around them.

you connected your speaker in the room that was given to you when you first moved to their house, and a song that reminded you of your dad started to play; its your dad's favorite song, and you couldn't control the sadness that flowed through your body

you spent a good two hours just crying and eventually calmed down but you were puffy eyed and your breathing was skipped

you sat up to recollect your self before colby came home and would come in your room, until another song started to play from your playlist, a heart wrenching song that reminded you of your beloved parents.

you started to cry again, you leaned back to the head board and clutched your body as you were singing to the lyrics

Colby came in the room all happy and giddy until he saw you crying

"oh my god! y/n are you okay? are you hurt? does something hurt?"

he was panicking trying to figure out why you were crying.

"no... nothings wrong" you got up quickly and turned around to wipe your face. he also got up to try to look at you but you kept avoiding him until he grabbed you face and made you look at him

"y/n.. somethings wrong, please just tell me"

"you wont understand" "just try me"

you mustered up the courage to tell him the truth. you looked at him and started to tear up again

"i-i just feel... i just started to feel homesick, thats all" colby was relieved that it wasnt anything life threatening

"oh, well why is that?"

"i dont know... i just miss home, like i really do. my family and friends, my culture and the food, everything" you looked at how he felt hurt about how you were talking about missing your family and friends.

"dont get me wrong, i love being here with you, you make being here so bearable but i just miss my people.. thats all" you half smiled

"no.. yeah i get that, is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

"no its fine, i just need a couple minutes alone thats all"

"yeah yeah sure... ill be downstairs if you need me alright?"

you kissed him and hugged him tightly, feeling so safe in his arms.

"thank you, i love you"

"i love you too" he walked out and closed the door, feeling terrible that you felt that way, he wished he could do something about your homesickness

COLBY

as i walked back downstairs to sit with sam on the couch, he noticed my upset mood.

"Everything alright dude?" "uh.. yeah its just y/n is feeling homesick and sorta on the verge of going back home"

"oh shit dude, i definitely know what she's feeling" " do you think we've made her not feel at home? you think I haven't made her feel like home?" " i mean we haven't really done anything to make her feel at home"

"shit dude youre right, we haven't, i feel like the worst boyfriend ever. cant even make my girlfriend feel loved or feel like this is her home"

i started to think about ways to make her feel at home, i can cook her favorite food? no its too late for that, its almost 8

"what should i do sam?" "how about you take her to the other side of LA, take her some place authentic, not might be like where she's from but its the closest thing we got"

"yeah yeah you're right, let me go tell her!"

i ran upstairs and came up to her door, softly knocked to let her know i was coming in, she was still there in bed listening to her spanish music.

"hey y/n.. how you holding up?" "hi.. im doing alright, still trying to get my breathing under control" she let out a dry giggle

i caressed her face admiring her glossy eyes and her stained cheeks, leaning down to kiss her on her forehead, " i was thinking-" she sat up "what were you thinking"

"how about i take you out to eat some place special?" "ehh im not in the mood to eat colby" "no cmon i know a place, trust me"

Y/N

he looked at me with pleading eyes, "sure why not"

"alright get reading in ten minutes" "okay" you smiled and got up to get ready, he left the room to let you get dressed

you wore some ripped jeans with your white Mexico world cup jersey, and some black platform converse. added some mascara and some lip balm before leaving you grabbed your purse

you went downstairs and was greeted by colby waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. "hey y/n!"

"hey sam"

"you ready to go babe?"

"yes of course!"

"but before we leave i need you to put this on"

he was holding a blindfold, you looked at him confused and he went behind you to put the blindfold on, you were about to protest before he kissed your cheek and wrapped the blindfold around your eyes

"alright lets go, bye sam!"

you headed out the door, stumbling trying to remember all the steps to get to the car, colby opened the car door and helped you inside.

"was the blindfold really necessary?" "yeah babe, i want to surprise you"

"it wont really be a surprise if we go to in n out" he laughed at the assumption

"how about i put some music on?" "hmm yeah okay" colby connected his phone to the car's bluetooth and a song you recognized easily came on. you started to sing along to song. Colby created a playlist on your favorite spanish-speaking songs. He had to stalk your public Spotify playlist to be able to create the playlist.

"omg i love this song!!" you started to sing the song, pointing the lyrics to Colby not knowing how much of a distraction you are creating for him on the road.

still with the blindfold on you continue to sing all the songs that played, surprised how many spanish songs kept coming on

"omg how do you know these songs?!" "did you stalk my spotify?" you let out a laugh, "gosh y/n no I didn't" yes he did

you laughed at him, knowing well that this is from your playlist, or you thought it was just your playlist he started to play.

"are we there yet?" "no"

"are we there yet now?" "almost"

"what about now?" "actually yeah we are"

"why did it take you so long to drive to in n out if its only a 15 minute drive from the house?"

as you heard opening his side of the door, he rushed over to open your door, "well babe, we arent actually at in n out"

confused, wondering where else he would have taken you

"well.. where are we-" you started to smell the char smell of meat... taco meat.

"omg it smells so good.. where are we..?"

"well let me cross you over the street to find out" "what?"

you started to take off the blindfold until he stopped you, "ah ah ahh, no taking this off yet until i say so" "omg colby where are we"

he guided you across the street, smelling everything. it smelled like home almost, you started to hear the steam of a grill and the music that you grew up listening to. Hearing chatter among people.. in spanish?

"colby... where are we?"

colby finally let go of you and starting to take the blind fold off of you, you adjust to the light and rubbing your eyes a bit to clearly see the scene.

taqueros and vendedores making and selling snacks and meals. hearing them laugh, sing, and speak spanish.

"oh my god.." you said under your breath looking all over, small tears start to well up. "colby.. what is this?"

"i felt really bad that you were feeling homesick, and i hate seeing you cry, so i thought maybe i try to bring home to you... I know this isnt exactly home but i love you so much that i would do anything for you and to show you how much you mean to me, i dont want you to go home, i want to always make you happy y/n"

your tears finally fell, you fully realized how special and loving colby was, you felt so warm and loved.

"Colby... this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, you have no idea how much this means to me, and for you to actually consider this idea really brings me to tears, i am so completely in love with you"

you grabbed his head and kissed him, deepening the kiss and full engulf his lips. you let go and admire his big beautiful eyes.

"gosh.. well cmon lets eat something, what kind of tacos do you want babe?" "ehh i have no clue what to get, everything looks so good, how about you order me something"

you smiled at him, wondering how did you get so lucky to have someone so special such as colby brock

you turned over to the taquero and smiled at him, the man smiling back at you and asking what you what would you like to eat.

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supernaturalfreewill · 1 year

Text

Sam woke rather abruptly in the middle of the night and for some reason found himself wandering out to the front of the bunker on a feeling. And there you were, still straining your eyes as you squinted at your laptop...

"Y/N," he said gently.

You looked up suddenly, slightly startled to see him standing there. "Sam? Are you okay?"

He laughed lightly. "Me? I'm fine. I was sleeping. I thought you said you were going to bed early tonight."

You looked back at the screen and continued clicking around. "I did."

He frowned, his brow drawing down over his eyes. "Well, it's 3:30 am..."

"Oh—well... shit."

Sam's hands landed on his hips, his mouth tight in a thin line. "Yeeeah. Alright. Come on. Bed. Let's go," he said, pacing the rest of the way over to you. "All the research will still be here in the morning."

You rubbed a hand over your face. "I don't think I can sleep..."

Sam sighed. "You need to rest. At least just—just come lay down for a bit." Your expression was still hesitant. "With me? Please? And I promise if you can't sleep that I'll get up with you, make coffee, and we can get back to this together."

"Sam, I don't want you not to sleep," you argued. "You should sleep if you can."

"Well, I can't now that I know you're up," he argued.

You sighed at the look he was giving you. "Fine... I'll try."

He smiled. "Great. My room or yours?"

Prompt: "I thought you said you were going to bed early tonight." / "I did." / "Well, it's 3:30 am..." / "Oh—well... shit."

#sam winchester #sammy the moose #sam winchester drabbles #supernatural imagines #spn fics #sammy winchester #sam fluff

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catn4pp · 5 months

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Melodies of Hearts | Sam x Reader

AN: soft little story for nerdy sam <3

————————————————————————

The air smelled of fresh soil and the sun painted the landscape in hues of gold, there existed a simple beauty that enchanted all who dwelled within its boundaries.

You, the newest addition to Stardew Valley, found yourself drawn to someone. Sam’s genuine kindness and infectious enthusiasm couldn’t go overlooked . As you ventured into the local diner, you couldn’t help but notice him sitting at a corner booth, lost in conversation with Sebastian about their latest Dungeons & Dragons escapade.

With a bashful smile, you approached the table, greeted by Sam’s bright eyes and a warm welcome. From that moment on, your days were filled with his gentle presence, his nerdy quirks endearing you more with each passing encounter.

Sam’s obliviousness to his own charm only added to his allure. Instead of grand gestures, he expressed his affection through simple acts of kindness – a thumbs-up and a shy smile when you accomplished something, or a genuine interest in discussing his latest favorite movies or the intricacies of his most recent D&D campaign.

His passion for music was evident in every strum of his guitar, each note carrying a piece of his soul. Sometimes, he would invite you to his band practice, where you would sit in awe as he poured his heart into each performance, eyes shining with the joy of creating something beautiful.

In the tranquil evenings, you would often find yourselves stargazing by the riverbank, the gentle melody of the water mingling with Sam’s soft guitar chords. Wrapped in blankets under the vast expanse of the night sky, you shared your dreams and fears, finding solace in each other’s company.

As the seasons changed and the town flourished, your bond with Sam deepened, like the roots of a sturdy oak tree firmly planted in the earth. Together, you faced the challenges of farm life and the trials of the heart, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm.

In the heart of Stardew Valley, where the sunsets painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, you found love in the most unexpected of places – in the melodies of Sam’s guitar, in the laughter that echoed through the fields, and in the quiet moments shared between two souls destined to be together

————————————————————————

#katt’s fics #sam sdv #sam stardew valley #sam x reader #sdv sam x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv fluff #sam fluff

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theweightofakiteofdreamsingold · 1 year

Text

Tease-Sam Kiszka

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, smoking, oral sex (male and fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, language, MINORS DNI.

A/N: Okay. This is my first Sammy fic, so be kind. 🥺 I think Sam is such a sub, so I tried my best at making him one. I hope you all enjoy it.

-Ken

Your jaw clenched as you reached for your glass. Your eyes burning into the back of his head. He had to feel your gaze scorching him. He was choosing to ignore it. Ignore you. You watched as he fluttered around the pool table, following the petite blonde with fake tits, like a lost puppy dog.

You took a sip of the cool liquid, hoping to extinguish the fire burning deep in your stomach. You knew why he was doing this. The dark little part of him he only let you see, wanted you seething and green with envy. You watched as the game of pool came to an end. Sam leaned a hip on the table, facing the nameless blonde, and you. You stared at him as you noticed his eyes glued to her chest. Your heart pounded as he flicked his eyes up, past her, landing on yours, a cocky smirk planted on his face. Then his attention was back on her.

That's it. You were going to drag him out of this bar by his luscious locks and teach him a lesson. Your hands gripped the table, preparing for your attack, but you were stopped by a light tap on the wrist. You turned your head to Josh, who was seated next to you.

"Everything okay?" He raised an eyebrow, unaware of the game being played by you and Sam.

You cleared your throat, easing back into the booth. You scanned the faces of everyone at the table. Jake gave you a knowing smile like he knew what the darkness in your eyes meant, like he had been there before. Danny's puppy dog eyes were filled with questions.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything is good." You took a deep breath and painted on your best smile.

The boys continued their conversations about the band, the tour, and all things Greta. You stayed focused on them and ignored Sammy's childish antics. For the most part. You kept him as a blur in your peripheral, noticing how his head seemed to be turned towards you more often.

...

"I was absolutely killing it in pool tonight. Did ya see?" Sam turned his head to you before looking back at the road.

He had been non-stop talking since you got in the car. You hadn't gotten a word in, not that you had anything to say. Your mind was buzzing with all the possibilities of punishment you could inflict once you were home. Your eyes were focused on the road. You decided to let Sam drive home, which only happened every so often. He was a passenger princess in every sense of the phrase.

"That blonde was pretty cute. Sara."

You could feel the scummy smile he had on his face after he spoke. Your jaw clenched, but you forbid yourself from reacting further. You pulled an almost full pack of cigarettes from the passenger side pocket, slipping one out. You rolled the window down and lit it with the lighter from the same location. You inhaled deeply and then exhaled a stream of smoke out the window.

You were not a regular smoker. You smoked when you drank, and when you were extremely cross. Right now, you didn't know which reason was the source of your craving. Sam held his pointer and middle fingers to you, signaling he wanted a drag. You took another puff, then tossed it out the window. He mumbled something under his breath as he turned into the driveway.

You made your way out of the car, taking your time to check your belongings. You didn't want to expose your excitement. You sauntered to the front door behind Sam and waited as he fumbled with the key. You noticed his hands shaking slightly despite his cool demeanor. He knew he was in trouble.

He finally opened the door, letting you walk in first. You hung your purse on one of the hooks hanging in the foyer. You turned to Sam. His eyes were on you as he slipped his shoes off. You smiled and slowly closed the space between you. Your fingers lightly feathered over the exposed skin peeking behind his half buttoned shirt. He let out a shakey breath, watching you with caution.

"Why so nervous, Sam?" You looked up at him with furrowed brows. "Are you worried you did something wrong?" You reached a hand up, stroking his cheek.

He licked his lips as he moved his hands to grab your waist. Before he could make contact, you grabbed a fist full of his hair, pulling down sharply until he was on his knees in front of you, hissing at your grasp. You leaned down to his eye level.

"You think it's cute to make me look like a fool, Sammy?" You asked. Your tone no different than asking someone for the time.

His mouth hung open while his eyes focused on your lips. You reased his hair from your fist. You stood up and placed the sole of your high-heeled shoe on his chest.

"Take it off." You looked down at him with a raised brow.

His eyes traced up your leg to the edge of your skirt. He could see the hot pink thong hugging your cunt. He swallowed hard before moving his hands to the thick strap around your ankle.

"I'm sorry." He spoke in a hushed tone. He slipped your foot from your shoe, kissing the top of it.

You sat it on the ground and replaced it with your other foot. "Quiet." You answered back sternly. His mouth opened to speak. You dug your heel into his chest with light pressure, warning him to keep it to himself. He took the hint and finished his work, removing your shoe.

"Go kneel in front of the couch. I'll be there shortly." He stood up and moved eagerly past you. You noted the impression of his hard cock though his pants as he went by.

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass and a bottle of your favorite sweet white wine. You poured yourself a glass and took a slow sip. You knew Sam would be antsy. Rubbing his moist palms on his slacks, trying to peek his head around the corner to see if you were coming. You wanted him to sweat. You smirked, taking another sip before heading to the living room.

He was sitting on his knees, his back to you, facing the couch just like you had asked. You padded your way to him, raking your fingernails through his sleek locks.

"Look at you sitting so pretty for me, Sammy. You're such a good boy when you listen." He took a sharp inhale at your praises.

You moved into the small gap between him and the couch and sat down. You placed a foot on either side of his legs and let your knees fall apart while you relaxed back into the cushions. He started hungrily at your center.

"Can I touch you, baby? Please?" He looked up with longing eyes, his fingers twitching.

You ran your pointer finger around the edge of your glass, watching as it indented the skin.

"Hmm. I don't know. Do you feel like you've earned it?" You looked down at him, tilting your head to the side in question.

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. His eyes fluttered closed as he cleared his throat.

"I said I was sorry. I shouldn't have talked to that girl." His eyes opened, deep and sorrowful.

"Oh, Sammy." You leaned forward, grabbing his chin and pulling him to you until your lips were almost touching. "You're not sorry. But you're gonna be."

You smiled as you leaned back, taking a sip of your wine before sitting it on the end table. You traced your fingers down your sides until you got to the hem of your dress. You curled your fingers under it and pulled up slowly. Sam's eyes followed your movements, licking his lips in anticipation. You lifted your hips, pulling your dress over your ass and stopping once your lower half was exposed. You heard the soft groan he let out as he gazed at your heat through the lace of your panties.

"You're gonna lick my pussy until I decide you're sorry. Got it?" You spread your legs a little wider and slipped a finger into the side of your panties, pulling them to the side. He leaned in, breathing you in deeply.

"Yes, ma'am. I got it." His eyes locked on yours as he stuck out his tongue, running it from your entrance to your clit.

You moaned softly, letting your head fall back. He swirled his tongue around your swollen clit before taking it between his lips, sucking gently. You looked down at him, your chest rising and falling quickly. His eyes were closed, lost in pleasing you. Your fingers locked into his hair and tugged. His eyes opened and found yours.

"Fuck, Sam. You're so pretty between my legs." You breathed out.

He pulled away from you, his lips puffy and pink from sucking you.

"Touch me, Sammy," you whined softly, releasing your grasp on his hair.

He eagerly slid his hands up your legs to your inner thighs. He leaned down and placed light kisses to your skin, letting his slender fingers find your heat. He rested his cheek on the top of your thigh as he slipped through your folds, rubbing slow circles on your bud. Your hips bucked into his touch, silently signaling your want for more. He moved his hand from you and parted his lips, bringing his glistening fingers to them. You let out an involuntary gasp as you watched his tongue coat his fingers in his saliva.

He smirked as he brought them down to your entrance, teasing you before slipping them in at a leisurely pace. He watched as you sucked him in. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, making it shine. He curled upwards once he was down to his second knuckle. You reached a hand down, grabbing his wrist and digging your nails into his skin delicately. Your eyes closed as you arched your back off the couch.

He pumped in and out of you, setting a steady pace, the thumb of his other hand rubbing your throbbing clit.

"Yes, Sam. Don't stop," you moaned out, letting your head fall back.

"Yeah? Does that feel good, mommy?" He asked just above a whisper.

You clenched around him as the words left his mouth. He had never called you mommy before, and you felt like you should be ashamed of how much it turned you on, but you weren't. You squeezed his wrist firmly as you tried to push him out of you.

"Come here." Your voiced cracked as you tried to keep your dominant persona present.

He stood up and leaned over you. He placed his wet fingers to your lips, and you graciously accepted them in. He watched with lidded eyes and a slack jaw as you swirled your tongue around them. He removed his fingers then placed his hands on either side of your head, the back of the couch supporting his weight as he leaned further into you. His lips pressed into yours with a fiery need. He took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. You let out a breathy moan as your pussy clenched around nothing.

You reached your hands out to his chest, fingers fumbling with the few closed buttons on his shirt. He smiled against your lips, clearly amused at how desperate you seemed for him. He straightened and shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drift to the floor.

"Pants too," you instructed, gaining some composure.

You watched the muscles in his hands flex under the skin as he undid the button and fly of his pants. He let them fall to the ground, running a hand through his hair as he stepped out of them. You stood from the couch, taking a step so you were inches from his face. Your eyes scanning over his beautiful features as your hands ran up his sides.

"Sit down." You took a side step, unblocking his path to the couch.

He raised an eyebrow before moving to sit. He leaned back with his arms stretched out on the back of the couch, his legs spread. You stood in front of him, slipping your fingers under the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up over your head.

His eyes watched you as you slid your bra straps down your shoulders and unhooked it from behind, letting it fall to the ground. His tongue glided over his plush lips, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his underwear.

"You're so fucking sexy." His head shaking in disbelief as he spoke.

You smiled, pushing your panties down your legs, moving between his legs as you stepped out of them. You sank to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding up his thighs to the waistband of his boxers. He groaned when your fingers found their way in, pulling him free from his confinement. You kissed the tip of his warm cock, already leaking with pre-cum and throbbing in your hand.

"Looks like someone is eager." You winked before parting your lips, taking him into your mouth.

His head snapped back while his hands found your hair. "Oh god," he moaned out in relief.

You swallowed him down until he hit the back of your throat. He hissed and yanked your hair at the root, causing you to moan against him. The vibrations making him whimper. You bobbed up and down on him until his moans grew louder and closer together. You popped off of him, wiping the corners of your mouth. He whined in protest, his eyes begging for more.

"You don't get to cum yet, silly. You have to take care of mama first." You straddled him while you spoke, the tip of his cock resting on your clit.

You rocked your hips over him slowly. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth hung open. You leaned into him, kissing his lips while you reached between your legs, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You pushed it into your entrance, making you both sigh into each other's mouths.

You leaned back and placed your hands on his knees, giving him full view of him sliding in and out of you. You moved your hips up and down on him slowly. He slid a hand up your chest and wrapped loosely around the side of your neck.

"Jesus, y/n. You feel. So. Fucking. Good." His eyebrows scrunched together while he bit down on his bottom lip.

His kept his eyes on the space where you connected, soft whines escaping him. You leaned your head back, focusing on keeping a steady pace and the delicious feeling of him filling you up. You panted and moaned for him. His cock always felt like it was made for you. You fit perfectly together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

You felt his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. You lifted your head, looking down to where his fingers were, then up to him. A light sheen of sweat was shining on his forehead. His eyes, dark and full of lust, burned into yours.

"Oh fuck, Sammy. Right there, don't stop." You breathed, your hips moving up and down on him faster as the fire ignited in your core.

You clenched around him, a sinfully whiney moan escaping him. You smirked, pleased with the way you were making him come undone.

"You think your little slut would fuck you this good?" You asked, sitting up and digging your fingers into his shoulders.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you as you stilled in his lap. Your lips found his neck, leaving slow, sloppy, wet kisses to his jaw. His hands found your hips, squeezing firmly.

"Tell me, Sam. Would she?" Your teeth grazed against his cheek as his chest heaved against yours.

He swallowed hard and took a trembling breath before answering. "No. No one can make me feel as good as you do." He wiggled his hips, trying desperately to get you to move on him.

"Good boy," you hummed in his ear before lifting up and dropping down on his cock again.

He gasped, throwing his head back. You wrapped an arm around his neck, using your free hand to grab his chin, tilting his head back up.

"Look at me,” you whispered.

His eyes locked on yours as you panted and moaned, the wet, slapping noises as you bounced on him added fuel to the fire burning inside of you. He was so fucking pretty. You traced over his face, taking him in. His blushed cheeks, his tongue darting out every so often wetting his plush lips, the adoration swimming in his eyes.

"You're so good to me. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your pussy. This delicious, velvet-soft pussy. Fuck, baby." He clenched his jaw as he snaked his arms around your waist. He held you down as he lifted his hips and fucked into you.

His words and sudden action made you explode. "Fuck, Sam. I'm coming. Fuck!" You squealed as the fire spread through every inch of you.

"That's right. Cum on this cock, sweetheart. Yes!" He pounded you through your orgasm until he was shaking. You knew he wasn't far behind.

"Fill me up, baby. Need it so bad. Please, Sammy." You whimpered, giving him your best doe eyes and pouty lips.

He thrusted a few times before he grunted, his eyes squeezing shut. His mouth hung open, moaning your name while he pumped you full of his warmth. You rested your forehead on his, both of you trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he leaned into you, his lips connecting with yours. He kissed you so tenderly that you could have cried.

"I love you, angel." He whispered, pulling back and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, his finger swiping it away as you smiled. "I love you too, Sam."

"I know." He kissed your cheek and pulled you against him, squeezing you tight.

You rested your head on his shoulder as your hearts beat in unison against each other. You were one in the same. He was yours, and you were his. You sniffled, lifting your head.

"Take a bath with me?" You asked, running your hand though his hair.

He nodded, helping you off of him. He padded off to the bathroom to start the bath while you went to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of wine and two glasses.

...

You laid against his chest in the warm, bubbly water. Soft music flowed from the small speaker on the bathroom counter as you talked and laughed with him, looking forward to snuggling up with him in bed and drifting into a dream-filled sleep.

#greta van fleet #greta van smut #gvf #starcatcher #greta van fic #sammy kiszka fic #sammy kiszka smut #sammy kiszka #sam kiszka #sam kiszka gvf #sammy gvf #sam fluff

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scp230kinnie · 2 years

Note

pls do music tastes for stardew valley bachelors🙏🙏

- someone you definitely don't know

Before we begin I want everyone to know I did see the requests for other fics/hcs and I’m working on them but it has been a little hard cuz of exams 😭 will have them finished as soon is I can

I love shartstew valley omg 😻😻

I definitely don’t know you or anything 😻💪

May I introduce to you all

STARDEW VALLEY BACHELORS MUSIC TASTE HEADCANONS

Characters: Alex, Elliott, Harvey, Sam, Sebastian, Shane

Warnings: cringe

Alex

Modern music

Not Harry styles or anything I think he would hate him

He probably listens to imagine dragons and rap music

He secretly listens to country music

His favorite songs are believer by imagine dragons and high hopes by panic! At the disco

He probably listens to pierce the veil secretly tbh

Emo music is his guilty pleasure

He listens to Eminem while he works out

He also probably doesn’t listen to music very often

Elliott

So obvious but classical music

Like if it has piano or violin he loves it

He also listens to opera

Like he won’t watch it but he likes hearing the voices

He has his music going when he’s writing or he’ll have it playing quietly while he does stuff in his shack

His guilty pleasure is EDM music

He swears he hates it and insists he’s a man of culture

But he does listen to EDM

Not very often tho

Harvey

I like to think he doesn’t really listen to music that often

But if he were to I think he would like smooth jazz

He has it playing quietly in his little hospital sometimes along with the elevator music that’s probably playing

He also listens to 80s rock music

Not very often tho

Usually just when combing his moustache or reading

Not really music but he also likes to listen to ocean noises

Usually only when he REALLY can’t sleep

Which isn’t very often

Sam

Rock music

Of course

He also probably listens to whatever music his own band makes

His favorite artists/bands are måneskin, Paramore, Ozzy Osbourne, and Metallica

He also listens to ABBA

His all time favorite song is dancing queen

He secretly listens to KPOP

Specifically the girl groups

But he totally fanboys over Felix from SKZ

Same

It’s not really a secret because I can guarantee Sebastian knows

He also tries singing along but he doesn’t know Korean so he just says gibberish and hopes it’s close

He also likes listening to whatever openings are from his favorite shows lol

Sebastian

My one true love

Listens to emo music duh

Jk he likes metal, rock, and nu metal

His favorite bands are being me the horizon, Pierce the veil, motionless in white, evanescence, and asking Alexandria

His favorite Song is dark passenger by motionless in white

He is not open to new music

He’s the typa guy to go “come on turn on something good instead of this trash” when you’re listening to anything that’s not within his music taste

He insists his music taste is better than everyone else’s

He doesn’t say it out loud, but when he sees someone in public wearing merch from one of the bands he likes, he really wants to ask them to name 3 songs

I still love him tbh

Late night K-POP karaoke with Sam

Shane

He listens to SoundCloud rappers

He doesn’t make any but he kinda wants to

His favorite band is Green day

His favorite song is Superman by Eminem

I feel like he would put in headphones on the way to work every morning and listen to music

Aside from that I don’t really feel like he listens to music that often

His guilty pleasure is country music

Claims it’s the worst thing he ever heard but secretly shazams any songs

Probably sits in silence with his own thoughts most of the time

Okay that’s it lmk if y’all want the bachelorettes lololol

I hope you enjoy person i definitely don’t know

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itsmkjones · 1 year

Text

Imagine: Sam forcing you to go to bed

Okay. So you'd gotten a little obsessive. And, sure, that tunnel vision drive had robbed you of a real night sleep for three days straight, resulting in unplanned naps at an hour intervals at most, adding up to two whole hours. But was it really fair that your body demanded sleep when Sam and Dean habitually did the same thing? And that's how you got to day four, hallucinating every time you looked at something too bright or too dark.

"Y/n…?" Sam called out softly after coming into the room to see you staring blankly at your hand. "You alright?"

"Huh?" You could barely pay attention to him, much less summon the mental stamina to craft a proper response.

Sam hesitated. "I asked if you were alright…"

"Uh huh."

Sam glanced back, wondering if he should call for Dean, then decided to approach you first instead. "What's going on?"

"This spot on my wrist."

"Spot?" Sam blinked in surprise when you clumsily shoved your hand in his face. He gently took it wrist. "I see it. What about it?"

"It's a spider."

Sam's brows knitted. "What?"

"All spots are spiders."

"Uh…"

"Spider. Spider. Spider." You repeated, poking the visible moles on his skin. "It goes away when you touch it. Then reappears!"

"Are you high or something?"

"Let me take off your shirt." You didn't wait for permission, sliding your hands up his hard abs. You would have enjoyed it more if your brain didn't feel encased in cotton, but as a solid to your future self, you made sure to indulge in the experience.

"Why the hell are you taking off my shirt?" Sam's voice cracked as he startled back, hands wavering in the air, unsure of what to do.

"You have the cutest mole right… here." You caressed the curve of his neck.

Sam's breath hitched and his throat worked as he struggled to reply. "You didn't need to take my shirt off to see it- Y/n!"

You opportunistically slipped under his shirt, kissing the spot. "God, I've always wanted to do that."

"Have you been drinking?" Sam jumped back when your hand dipped under his jeans. "Jesus, Y/n! What the hell?"

You blinked at him, mind blanking.

"Y/n?" Sam stepped forward cautiously when you didn't respond. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday maybe?" You felt yourself swaying, but it didn't feel dangerous even when Sam jerked forward to keep you upright.

"For how long?"

"I don't know math." You scowled indignantly. "How dare you, Winchester? -Like twenty minutes or something."

Sam sighed. "How long has it been since the last time you really slept?"

"Um…" You closed your eyes to think and the swaying got worse. "Anyways. Take off your pants."

"What? No." Sam frowned. "Try to concentrate for a second."

"How can I supposed to do that?" You whined shamelessly. "Real Y/n wants to see the goods!"

Sam flushed and it took clearing his throat twice to find his voice. "Real Y/n?"

You nodded. "Awake Y/n. Not sleepy Y/n." You grabbed his waistband. "There's a pot going on amongst hunters about how hung you are. I'll keep it a secret if you do, but shouldn't I know since we're friends? You can't keep secrets from your friends."

"Okay. Bedtime for you." Sam threw you over his shoulder when your fingers started to graze downward.

"I'm not sleepy." You pouted. "My brain is too awake."

"I'll give you warm milk or something. Just get into the bed and stop touching me." Sam's voice was hard.

You stopped sliding your hands over the lines of his back muscles sulkily. "You're so bossy. Isn't it your fault that you're so damn fine? Take some responsibility! Coming out of the shower with nothing, but a towel on…"

"I didn't know you were there!"

"That doesn't make me not want to lick every damn drop of water off of you." You suddenly became cheerful. "Stay hydrated everyone."

"Please stop talking." Sam swallowed hard.

"I'll show you yours, if you show me mine." You offered.

"That's not-" Sam broke off with a sigh, then pushed open your bedroom door and set you down. "Get some sleep." He sighed again when you stared at him in blank confusion. "Sleep, Y/n. Please?"

"I forgot how the bed works."

"You forgot…" Sam covered his eyes with his hands, scrubbing his face hard. "Go lay down."

You walked backwards until your legs hit the bed, then toppled inelegantly on the mattress. Sam's face fell. Begrudgingly, he scooped you up and laid you further back on the blankets. He rolled you up tightly in an impromptu swaddle before you could do anything else.

"I'm a burrito. Eat me."

"Go to sleep, Y/n."

"But you and Dean stay up all the time." Your face crumpled with a wave of sorrow.

Sam softened. "You aren't us."

"But you won't want me anymore."

Sam's lips thinned with an empathetic smile. "We can talk about this later."

"You've got a cute mole by your nose too."

Sam turned off the light, but didn't leave. A moment later, you felt him sit next to you. "I never had anyone try to help me fall asleep, so I'm not really sure how to help you, but… I saw this in a movie once. A mom putting down her kid…"

You relaxed instantly as his fingers brushed back your hair in long, gentle strokes. Sam smiled at your satisfied hums.

"Good night, Y/n." Sam said softly when your breathing slowed.

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alexsoenomel · 1 year

Text

In Whiskey Veritas (Sam Winchester x Reader fluff)

Summary: Thinking about that time she ran into an old friend.

FIRST TIME WRITING IN 3RD PERSON!!!!!

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1645

Note: I AM ALIVE Y’ALL!!! Sorry for the lack of new stories, I’m currently balancing school, work and poor mental health. On top of that I’m struggling to write. This came from the heart. I don’t know how, I don’t know why but it did. Kinda happy how it turned out!

For my Sam girl <3 @ambergoddess444

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

She stares at the blank document on her laptop, hoping and praying the words will come out. Pondering over the next short story and what words to use and yet she feels mute. Her mind is as blank as that document on her laptop. She has many ideas, but no words to use. Writing is her hobby, her dream job, but at that moment she feels like her brain is rejecting it.

“Fucking hell.” She whispers in frustration and slams her laptop shut.

Taking a nap sounds good to her, maybe giving herself a break from life will help.

As she’s laying on her bed, eyes shut, her mind couldn’t stop replaying the same thought over and over again – like a movie on a loop. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and that random Friday night when she decided to go to her favorite pub by herself.

****

The work was hectic that day, running from one office to another, doing shitty reports no one actually cared about, dealing with a colleague who for some odd reason decided to shoot his shot with her and then getting mad when she rejected him, because Lord forbid a woman rejecting a man – it was the whole shebang.

“Whiskey neat.” She told the waitress.

“No rocks?” – She heard a familiar man’s voice on her left. When she turned to look at him, her heart stopped and started again. She hadn’t seen him in years – after he left Stanford, he didn’t call, he didn’t text…he just vanished. The man with hazel eyes and a stunning smile, the man she desperately desired but couldn’t have since he had been in love with someone else, oh so many years ago…

“Sam?” She said, still not believing her own eyes.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He smiled.

God I thought I would never see that smile again. Still as beautiful as I can remember.

She immediately went for a hug and he did the same. He was much taller than her, she felt small but safe during those few seconds.

He smells good.

“What brings you here, of all places?” She asked him. New York City was a place where dreams come to live or die, with endless possibilities and opportunities and she would have never thought that her silly little dream to see Sam again would come true – and yet he was standing right in front of her.

“On a road trip with my brother.” He lied. “You?”

“Shitty corporate job and the wonderful world of publishing.” She said putting a perfect dose of sarcasm in that sentence. When she majored in creative writing, she was somewhat optimistic and hopeful she would become a published author one day – now, not so much.

“Your tone is telling me it’s not all sunshine and rainbows.” Sam noticed.

“Definitely NOT sunshine and rainbows.”

“Did you get something published?”

“Only a couple of short stories. Publishing world is ruthless, I got rejected at this point” – she took a sip of her whiskey –”I think twenty five times.”

“Damn.” Was all Sam said before he spoke again. “I’m sure someone will see your true potential. I know I did.”

He truly did. He would always encourage her to write, whenever she doubted herself, he would tell her to write and write her heart out. Sam liked her short stories, he told her they were sweet like those chocolates filled with liquor – the liquor being the surprise because in his words she was a master of plot twists.

“Yeah you were my biggest fan.” She smiled.

That random Friday night she spent reminiscing about old memories and unpacking the one box he thought he would never open again – Jessica’s death.

After Jess died he left, leaving her with questions and no answers. No goodbyes. They were good friends back in the day and he just left. It broke her heart.

“I’m sorry I just disappeared, after her death I thought I was gonna lose it.”

“I get it.” – she said, taking another sip of her drink – “I was really sad when she died. She was wonderful.”

“Yeah she was.”

After a few drinks they were both feeling the effects of alcohol – Sam’s poison of choice was beer and hers was still whiskey neat. Her mind was in haze and her tongue was trying to not confess the one thing she buried deep inside her soul. She never identified exactly what it was? Was it love? A harmless crush? Whatever it was, it was alive and burning as strong as The Olympic Flame. Expressing her emotions verbally was never her strongest suit, but putting them on paper was. The thing was, even after putting emotions on paper she was clueless – lack of experience with relationships was her only explanation. Since then, she had a couple of flings, relationships etc., but would never stay for too long. She would get bored of it. Jane Austen's fault. – She would tell herself every time it didn’t work out.

“You know you really helped me with my writing.” She confessed.

“I just saw what was obvious. You really have a gift.”

“The gift no one wants, apparently.” She said before ordering another glass of the liquid gold.

“Don’t say that. You have to fail a couple of times in order to succeed.”

“True. I failed in one thing, though.” – she already felt her heart beating faster – “And I never succeeded.”

“With what thing?”

“With you.” She said finally.

Sam’s adorable wrinkles on his forehead showed as he raised his eyebrows. “With me?”

“Yeah. I mean…can I tell you? I’m too drunk to bite my tongue and it has been so long–”

“Tell me (Y/N).” He cut her off.

“Yeah I kinda had a thing for you back in the day, was too shy to tell you and once you started seeing Jessica I…well…crap…I knew I lost my chance.”

Sam bit his lower lip trying to hold back a grin but failed. His little dimple made an appearance as she was engulfed in fear and anticipation. Even if it was so long ago, she was still afraid of his answer.

“What?” She asked. “Wipe that grin off your face, I'm serious. I was suffering from a broken heart syndrome for a long time!” She tried not to laugh but failed. She thought she sounded too dramatic but it was the sad truth – when she found out he found someone as wonderful as Jess it felt like a sharp knife went through her heart. It was funny now but back then she wasn’t laughing.

“I always thought you hated me !” He finally said. And that wasn’t the answer she expected.

“Me? Hated you? What made you think that?”

“I mean hated me in a friendly kind of way…”

“You mean I was roasting you?” She asked.

“Yeah that.”

“Yeah because I cannot flirt so the most logical thing to do is seem mean and be sarcastic.” She explained. “Oh Lord!”

“Well that’s…” Sam wanted to say something but nothing came out.

“Yeah, it doesn't make sense. Tell me about it!”

Awkward silence was lingering in the air and both of them seemed to enjoy it. Sam couldn’t stop staring at her, scanning every mole, line and freckle on her face, while she was blushing and looking back at him wondering how on Earth she did manage to let him slip through her fingers. He was the right person, but back then was the wrong time. Maybe now the time was right?

She felt bold enough to swallow her shyness away and got on her tiptoes, placing a light kiss on his lips. His lips were soft and the kiss was short and sweet, like every story she had ever written about Sam. Those would never see the light of day, only the darkness of her drawers – it was for her and for her only.

Sam couldn’t say no, he couldn’t pull away – he didn’t know why but he didn’t care. Something about her woke up the need he hadn’t felt in ages, so he decided to take the rest of her oxygen away and deepen the kiss. Thank God music was loud enough to muffle the moan that escaped her mouth. Once their lips parted she chugged the rest of her drink down her throat feeling that wonderful sting running down her throat.

“Well…That was nice.” She told him. “Didn’t expect you to kiss me back.”

“Didn’t expect you to kiss me.” He smirked.

“Well, In vino veritas.” She wondered if he knew what that meant.

“In wine, there is truth.” Of course he knew. Latin was his language of choice back in college. He was scarily good at it.

“In this case whiskey, but you get my point.”

That night she didn’t come back alone after a night out to an empty apartment. That night she came back with an old friend. Friends weren’t supposed to kiss but they did. Friends weren’t supposed to rip each other’s clothes off but they did.

That night Sam showered her with kisses, that night she moaned his name over and over again.

That night she was his.

****

She opens her eyes and lets out a loud groan. Her mind is restless. It was beautiful and sensual before she remembered – it was only a one night stand and he’s gone. He left the next morning only leaving the traces of his lips on her hot skin and a phone number behind. That was over a year ago.

Still feeling like she lost the ability to write she unlocks her phone only to see a text. She always puts her phone on silent when she writes. It’s like turning off the outside world. She opens the text that was sent two hours ago.

“Hey, are you still in New York?”

She swallowed nervously before she typed: “Hey Sam! I am :).”

188 notes · View notes

sams-sass · 1 year

Text

Date Night

Hi there!! This is just a fun little fic about the boys taking you on a first date. You get double trouble on this one!! I hope you enjoy!!!!

Pairings: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warning: Kissing, implied smut, date night, flirting, swoon worthy Winchesters.

Sam

Your hands fell to your sides, letting your hair tumble to its normal state, and an exasperated grunt left your mouth. You bit your lip and ran your fingers through your hair again.

"I don't know!" You whispered to yourself. "I guess I could, like, pin the sides..." You mumbled, confusion and frustration evident in your voice.

"Hey, Y/N-" Dean said, opening your door and entering your room.

"Dean! What the hell, man?!" You shouted, your hands flying to your body.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, ignoring your outburst. He looked you over, his face wrinkling in confusion. You stood in your socks, underwear, and tank top. Several dresses, still on their hangers, were piled on your neck. Makeup, hair tools, and nail polish were scattered across your desk. More clothes were thrown onto your bed. Shoes were everywhere.

"Knock much?! Damn!" You shouted at him again, disregarding his question. You placed your hands on your hips and leaned to the side. The motion made the hangers rattle comically together on your neck.

"Going somewhere?" Dean asked. A cocky grin crossed his face as he leaned against the door frame, his arms folding on one another.

"Shove off, Dean. I am trying to get ready." You explained, instantly regretting your words.

"Ready? Ready for what?" He asked, and you internally groaned. You let out a large breath and let your shoulders drop dramatically.

"If you must know...I have a date." You said, trying to keep all emotion out of your voice.

"A date?!" Dean's eyebrows shot up, his eyes growing wide. "A date with who?"

"Sam." You mumble whispered, your lips barely parting.

"What?" Dean asked, his head leaning forward as his brow furrowed.

"Sam." You said slightly louder but not any more clear.

"Y/N." You watched as Dean's face moved from confusion to "I'm done with this."

"Oh my god, alright! Sam! Ok! Sam! Your brother and I are going on a date." You exclaimed, your hands flying around.

"Wha-" Dean started, his face dropping in disbelief. A small laugh left his mouth.

"You and Sam? Sam and you? You two? Together?" He rambled, his index finger pointing between you and the air beside you.

"Get out! I have to decide what to wear." You returned to the pile of clothes on your bed and began rummaging through everything again.

"Can I help?" Dean practically jumped in excitement. He quickly walked over to you, looking at the clothes next to you.

"What? Ew! No! Go away!" You shoved him playfully, a giggle falling from your lips despite your best effort. Dean leaned back, swatting your hands away. You landed another punch to his arm, and Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest.

"Aw, come on, Y/N/N!!" He groaned, using your nickname against you.

"Fine." You snapped. You picked out your two favorite outfits and lay them next to each other. You turned to face him, tilting your head to the side.

"Which one will make your baby brother want to make me scream his name in pleasure until the early morning hours?" You asked, a confident smirk settling on your lips. Dean's smile dropped, his face going pale. His nostrils flared, and his features pulled into those of disgust.

"Oh, what the hell? I thought we were having fun. And then you gotta go and ruin my whole year like that? I don't think I will ever recover from this. I am grossed out." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"So...the red one?" You asked, trying to control your laughter. Dean looked at you, his face stern and impassive. His eyes held yours for a beat.

"Yeah. The red one." He mumbled before turning to leave your room.

"Thank you!" You called—an arrogant cheer in your voice.

"I need a drink," Dean said before closing your door behind him.

You pulled the stack of hangers off your neck and turned to grab the red silk top and black jeans. It was simple, but it gave you confidence which you desperately needed right now. The silk fell over your body, landing at the waistband of your jeans. The shirt wasn't tight-fitting, but it wasn't loose, either. It hugged your body in all the right places and allowed for some wiggle room when needed. Spaghetti straps led to an open back that stopped right at the curve of your spine. You smoothed your hands over the fabric and bit your lip. Nerves wrecked your entire body. You could play it cocky with Dean, but the truth was- you were absolutely terrified.

You couldn't believe this was happening. A date. With Sam. You closed your eyes and thought of all the missed moments. All the stolen glances that seemed to go on for hours. All the almost touches. All the yearning and aching in the dark hours, hands fisting the cold sheets next to you. You were finally living the night you had planned in your head so many times. Tonight was the first time you could allow yourself to fall into all things Sam.

A smile grew on your lips just thinking about that fateful conversation.

Last night

You sat curled over a book in the library. You were so focused on reading that you didn't hear Sam's footsteps in the room.

"Hey." He greeted you softly so as not to startle you. You lifted your head, your eyes finding his.

"Hey." You replied back.

"What are you reading?" He asked, sitting down across from you.

"Myths about the sky, constellations, and stars." You read from the front cover.

"Oh! I recently read that. Very interesting." He said, crossing his arms on the table.

"It is! I didn't know there were so many myths and stories about the stars from all over the world." You closed the book to give Sam your undivided attention.

"Yeah, I didn't either." Sam suddenly looked nervous. He scratched the back of his neck, looking over his shoulder for something.

"Hey, um. How far are you in the book?" He asked, turning back to look at you.

"Not far at all, I just started. Why?" You tilted your head in question.

"I thought...Since I have already read it, I could teach you. I could teach you what I know." Sam stumbled over his words.

"Teach me?" You asked. Your eyebrows came together on your forehead.

"Yeah... there's a telescope, and I could show you the stars and tell you their myths." Sam tried to explain himself.

"Oh. That might be fun, yeah." You said, feeling your face relax in understanding.

"Ok, so tomorrow night. You, me, and the stars. It's a date." Sam said, standing up. Your eyes grew wide.

"Ok!" You agreed, not allowing yourself to get hopeful and expecting. Sam smiled at you before walking away. He made it about five steps before he turned around.

"I don't think I made myself clear," Sam said. His voice sounded authoritative and raw. His pointer finger came up to emphasize his words.

"Oh." You said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. He returned to you, placing one hand on the table and the other on your cheek. Your body froze, and your mind stopped.

"Y/N," Sam said, his voice making you look him in the eye. "Will you go on a date with me?" He asked. He was so close. Hazel eyes stared into yours. His dimples were in full effect. How does one breathe again?

"I would love to." You whispered.

Now

You couldn't stop the feelings parading through you as you did your makeup and hair how you liked. This was heavy. In a hunter's life, it wasn't just knowing that the other person felt the same. It was the all-encompassing and cumbersome knowledge that, at any moment, the world around you may crumble. Death and pain searched for you. Icy and cold shadows constantly filled your soul with dread. What if they were ripped away from you? What if you let yourself go there? Feel those feelings that you had gotten too good at repressing. What would happen if you lost them? What would become of you if the one person you did all this for was no longer there?

You paused. Closing your eyes and letting yourself have one more "what if?" What if it all worked out? What if you could have both? A hunter's life and the warm and safe arms of a lover? What would happen if you actually got what you wanted?

You stood and made your way into the library, knowing that's where you would find him. You inhaled and exhaled one full breath before rounding the corner. He stood with his back to you. He wore a red and black flannel with black jeans. His hair looked freshly combed, and you could already smell his aftershave.

"Hey, Sam." You said softly.

Sam turned and saw you waiting for him. A red silk top lay across your torso. Black jeans accentuated the curves of your body. You stood with one arm crossed over your middle, your hand wrapped around the opposite forearm. You pinned some of your hair back and graced your face with makeup. But Sam noticed something else. He couldn't look away from the nervous yet excited glow in your eyes. His lips parted, everything he had ever known leaving his mind for a fleeting second of blissful oblivion.

"Y/N." Your name was the only thing his mind brought to conscious thought.

At the sound of his husky and weighted voice romanticizing your name, a lovestruck grin blessed your lips. He crossed the room, stopping a few inches in front of you. He took your chin between his index finger and thumb, lifting your face to his.

"You look beautiful." He whispered for only you to hear. You beamed at him, his thumb moving to run along your jaw.

"Thank you." You said, swallowing thickly. You lowered your eyes to look at him. A small giggle left your mouth.

"We match." You said with a breathy laugh. Sam's brow furrowed, his head lowering to look both of you over. His face then fell into an amused chuckle.

"Red and black. I guess we think alike." He smiled at you.

"No higher compliment than to think like you, Sam." You said back. Sam smiled, looking away sheepishly.

"Ready to look at some stars?" He asked.

"Yeah." You answered with an excited nod.

Sam took your hand within his and led you outside. The air was soft and calm against your exposed arms. The evening breeze still held onto the last of the day's heat. Its melody played off your and Sam's bodies. Sam's skin warmed you. His large and powerful hand encased yours with tender and gentle care.

"Where are we going?" You asked, leaning against his shoulder.

"I have a little place set up," Sam said, pointing down the path. "It isn't much farther."

You walked a little more, listening to the crickets and the sounds of the night. Finally, you arrived at your destination. The path opened to a small field. The wild and swaying grass was framed with trees and bushes. The moon was brilliant. Full and glowing. Its iridescent and ivory splendor bathed everything in its milky radiance. There was no cloud to be seen, the sky an endless black cloak. The stars looked like glitter, hand tossed into the atmosphere by the gods. A creek tumbled playfully over stones and sticks. The water reflected the moonlight back to itself. The world seemed to have created this just for you and Sam.

"Oh my god, Sam." You said. Your voice was breathy and light as you turned to look at him. "This is amazing."

"I thought of you as soon as I saw it." He looked into your eyes as he spoke. "I want to share this with you, Y/N. You are the only person I want to be here with."

"I want to share this with you too, Sam." You agreed, feeling your heart flutter.

He took your hand again and walked you over to the middle of the field. A blanket lay in the grass, a telescope propped directly in the middle. The book you had been reading sat with colored Post-it notes sticking out from its pages. A few candles decorated one corner of the blanket; their flames danced in the light wind. Settled on the other side of the telescope was your favorite snack and drink, which you didn't think you had ever explicitly told him.

"Sam..." You started, looking at the attention to detail he minded for your date together. "You did all this for me?"

"I told you." He said, looking over at you. "There is no one I would rather be here with." Your eyes found his. You watched as his eyes dropped to your lips, a soft breath leaving him. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. But then, ever in control, Sam smiled at you and turned to pick up the book.

"Shall we?" He asked, his long fingers turning the pages.

"We shall." You nodded, walking to stand next to him. Sam stood before the telescope, bending down to peer into it before signaling for you to look.

"Ok." Sam started. "You are looking at what we call 'the big dipper.' This cluster of stars has different stories all over the world. Almost every culture has lore created about these stars. My personal favorite is from Greek Mythology. Like some of the other cultures, the Greeks saw a bear with a smaller bear beside it. Well, legend has it that the King of Arcadia had a beautiful daughter name Callisto. Zeus spotted her mingling with Artemis and knew he simply had to have her. So, he seduced her and made her one of his many lovers. He tried to keep the affair secret from his wife, Hera, but after Callisto gave birth to Zeuse's son, Hera learned their secret. As punishment, Hera turned Callisto into a bear and banished her to wander the wild woods alone and frightened forever. As time passed, Zeus and Callisto's son, Arcas, grew into a strong and wise hunter. One day he was wandering the woods when he stumbled upon a bear. This bear did not look like the rest; Arcas was confused and scared. His mother, in bear form, recognized her son and began to try to speak to him. Arcas saw the bear grunting and coming toward him. So he raised his spear in self-defense. Zeus intervened, not wanting his son to kill his mother. He changed Arcas into a bear as well so they could live together forever. As a kind of "screw you" to Hera and to protect them from harm, he placed them together among the stars. However, Hera got the last word. She forbade them from ever resting below the earth. And that is why you can never see them set below the horizon like the other constellations." Sam explained the story, his voice even and calm. You straightened your back and turned to face him. You thought he would be reading from the book, but his face was turned toward the sky. He had memorized this.

"I like that story." You said, giving him a soft smile.

"Me too." Sam agreed, his kind eyes settling on you.

"Here, this is one of my favorites," Sam said. His eyes turned to the book as his long index finger flipped to a page with a pink Post-it note. He then grabbed the telescope and pointed it where it needed to go. You peered through at a massive collection of stars. Lines and connections could be drawn within them to make several shapes. A soft breath left your mouth at its beauty.

"Ok, this one is kind of long." Sam started, clearing his throat. "This is a cluster of constellations depicting one story. The love story of Perseus and Andromeda. Andromeda was the child of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. The Queen was very vein and often boasted that her daughter was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. This angered Posiden, so he retaliated by sending a sea beast to their shores. Many tried to conquer the beast, but all failed. Desperate for answers, the King consulted an oracle who suggested he sacrifice his daughter. King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia accepted this fate and sadly put Andromeda in shackles and left her for the beast. Luckily, Perseus was flying by on Pegasus, fresh from killing Medusa. He instantly fell in love with the beautiful and kind Andromeda. He struck a deal with the King and Queen; he would kill the beast if they would allow him their daughter's hand in marriage. They agreed, and Perseus confronted the beast. There is some speculation in the lore, but I prefer the legend that he used the head of Medusa to turn the beast into stone. The remains of which can still be seen off the coast today. The King and Queen kept their word and allowed Perseus to marry their daughter. They married and ventured out to explore Greece together. Perseus is thought to be the ancestor of the Persians. He founded Mycenae, where he made Andromeda his Queen. Perseus and Andromeda had nine children: seven sons and two daughters. Athena promised Andromeda to place her in the sky after her death. And she did. She is placed next to the constellation of Perseus. Making their love truly immortal. Their story is forever written in the stars." Sam was once again looking toward the sky. His face was pensive and soft as he stared into the vast sky before him.

"I like listening to you." You said, your body melting.

"I could keep going," Sam said, facing you.

"How many more you got?" You asked, looking down at the book between his hands.

"However many more you want. Whatever you ask." He said.

"Tell me a story, Sam." You said, your words were breathy.

Sam smiled and told you all the epics and myths of the sky. Your mind swirled from the fables and Sam's poetic and lyrical voice illustrating the stories of gods. Of monsters. Of good and evil. Of everlasting love forever illuminated in the sky. Every question you pondered, Sam riddled with you. His knowledge and memory of the legends he guided you through gave you a glimpse of his brilliant mind. His words were profound, with intricacies and endless analysis. You listened to him wax and wane the prophecies set forth by those before you. Heroic battles with swords, shields, and bloodshed. Tears forever imprinted into the stars to heed the warning of history repeating itself. Sam told you tales of chariots and fire burning the milky way into the sky. And of weeping women forced to rotate the earth, watching their mortal lovers below. The stars of Obrian and the seven sisters he loved.

The tension built between you as Sam grabbed your hand to point directly at a specific star. His body standing behind yours. The buttons on his flannel tickled your bare back, causing a tingle to trace down your spine. You turned and placed your hands on his chest. Silently asking him to not let go. His hands ran down your arms, wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. You took his face between your palms, allowing your fingers to twist into his hair. Swallowing, you tried to calm your heart.

"I'm scared." You confessed, looking down at the ground. Sam took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your face to look at his.

"I am, too," Sam whispered; the raw fragility in his words sent a shiver down your spine. "But I realized that I may be scared of the unknowns, but I am utterly terrified of living the rest of my life without you."

"Sam..." You breathed.

"Y/N..." He said back, his voice sounded thick and deep. Your heart sank into your stomach, and if Sam wasn't holding you up, you thought you might fall over. You took in a shuttering breath and bit down on your lip. Could it be? Finding everything you ever wanted under the starry sky? He placed his forehead against yours and bent slightly at the knees. Your mouth opened to his before his lips made contact. He kissed you with the familiarity of a loved blanket and still all the excitement of a newly blossoming flower in springtime. He listened to every breath and gasp that fell from your lungs. His mind committed them to memory as his body followed your every wordless instruction. You fell into him. Finally, closing the door to all your anxieties and fears and letting yourself be consumed by Sam. Just Sam.

You knew then that your fates were sealed. Under the endless sky of lovers' tales, your burning and aching souls finally wed.

You didn't realize how long you were with Sam until the sky blushed gold and the stars settled into their slumber. The sun rose over the trees, warming the lands in its gleaming light. As dawn fell over the earth, your heart also basked in the promise of a new day.

Dean

You held your gun up to your chest, controlling your breathing as best as possible. There was a painful burn in your legs from crouching for so long. Dean was kneeling beside you; his hot breath fanned your neck in the small space. He smelt like whiskey and leather, not helping the sweat already coating your skin.

"I'll go left. You go right." You said, turning your face slightly towards his. He was so close. His angular nose practically touching yours. You swallowed and looked away, waiting for him to answer.

"Ok." He agreed. You went to stand when you felt his hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you toward him.

"Wait!" He said almost too loudly. "If we make it out of here...do you want to, like...do something?" He asked suddenly.

"...what?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Ya know...like...i-i-if were good. Do you want to, like...hang?" He tried to clarify himself.

"Hang?" You repeated him. "Dean, we hang out all the time." You furrowed your brow.

"Yes. But I mean just you and me. Together. Do you want to do something together?" He asked. The wheels in your brain stopped turning as you put the pieces together. Oh...

"Dean. Are you seriously asking me out in the middle of a vamp nest?" You were both stunned and annoyed. Dean looked at you, his face neutral and nervous at the same time.

"Yes." He said flatly. You stared at him with an open mouth for a moment.

"Ok...yeah...sure...can you please just kill the vampires?" You asked like a mom negotiating with a child.

"Yes," Dean said again, this time with his usual cocky tone. You held your tongue between your teeth and let out an annoyed breath.

"Good." You said before charging out of your hiding spot.

You don't think you had ever been that efficient. As you left the decaying barn, your machete dripped blood onto the wood floor beneath you. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths. You dramatically wiped the blood off your cheek with your forearm. Sam stood outside, fighting the vamps that had managed to escape. His jacket swung with him as he took on four at a time. You shuffled over and stood beside him, your mind fuzzy and distant.

"He asked me out." You said.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam asked through exhausting breaths. "Help me!"

"Dean asked me out." You said louder. Sam looked genuinely surprised momentarily before his eyes grew wide, and fear crossed his face.

"Duck!" He practically screamed. It was probably your hunter instincts kicking in, but you ducked down just in time for Sam to behead the vamp running right toward you.

"Y/N. I do not have time for this." Sam said, his voice annoyed and short. You turned towards him to tell him to make the time when a vamp lunged at him.

"Holy!" You screamed, your mind and body finally connecting. Your machete swung with precision, taking the head clean off.

"Thanks." He said with a smile.

"You too." You laughed.

"Ok. You have my full attention." Sam said, grabbing you by the shoulders.

"I'm going on a date with Dean." You said, your face breaking into an enamored grin as you slowly realized yourself. A lopsided smirk settled over Sam's lips.

"I'm happy for you." He said sincerely, and you let out a girlish giggle.

You turned left and right in the shitty mirror at the motel. Your face scrunching in apprehension and uncertainty. You had gone shopping, finally allowing yourself some clothes you liked, not just clothes that were easy for killing monsters and riding in a car for days. You smoothed your hands over the creamy corset top you had chosen. Blue flowers decorated the bodice while silk trim outlined your breasts. You spun around again, ensuring nothing was on your jeans, and breathed nervously. You slipped your feet into black combat boots with zippers and buckles that rattled when you walked.

As you styled your hair and makeup, you let your mind wander to Dean. When you first met the boys, there was an attraction to Dean instantly. He was gorgeous. Perfectly angeled and sharp features softened by a smattering of unpredictable freckles. Large eyes that were earthy in color, like moss or sage. How they always found you in the rearview mirror. His hardened expression relaxed at the sight of you. It was a constant burden to not stare back at him. To let your eyes drift from him down to his soft and plump lips. You would sometimes find yourself practically tasting the alcohol left between them as he took a swig from the bottle. Your mind strolled through daydreams about his mouth. Perfectly straight and white teeth, biting down on his bottom lip. His pink tongue tasting you. Letting himself feel all the things he pushed down for one moment of pure fervor and passion.

Yes, you were obviously physically attracted to Dean...and after many nights of Jack Daniels and beer, you might have even told him so once or twice. But it had grown into so much more. There was a softness to Dean that he often tried to deny. His presumptuous and confident outer shell made it easy for you to laugh and joke with him. But his affectionate and sensitive inner core is what caused your heart to stutter.

As you checked yourself one last time, there was a knock on the door. You took a big breath into your lungs and relaxed your shoulders. Now or never. You opened the door and immediately made eye contact with him. Dean's face fell into that of a love-struck teenager. His eyes were wide and alert as his lips parted. His sharp features eased, his entire body open and vulnerable to you.

"Y/N...I..." His husky voice breathed your name. He took a step toward you, cupping your cheek with his palm. "You look beautiful." He said slightly louder.

"You clean up good, Winchester." You flirted. You weren't lying. Dean looked utterly delicious in his black button-down and the light jeans.

"Come on," Dean said with a tilt of his head. He grabbed your hand into his and pulled you into the parking lot. The two of you entered the Impala, and Dean began driving into town.

"Where are we going?" You asked, turning your body to face his.

"I'm not telling," Dean said with bravado.

"Ok...I'm excited." You answered.

About ten minutes later, Dean pulled into a western-themed Mini Golf center. You turned and smiled at him.

"I'm gonna kick your ass." You said with an arrogant laugh.

"In your dreams. Prepare to be demolished." Dean shot back, already getting out of the car. You turned to grab your purse when the passenger door opened. Dean stood with his hand stretched out. You slid your fingers across his and let him pull you out of the car.

You got your clubs and balls and walked over to the first hole. Dean went first, his ball barely making it over the slight hump in the grass. You laughed and set your ball down on the marker. You wiggled your hips slightly, getting your feet right.

"Don't do that to me," Dean said from behind you. You looked at him over your shoulder, giving him your most innocent face.

"I couldn't possibly know what you mean." You said, batting your eyelashes and running the tip of your tongue over your teeth. Dean pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, letting his teeth run over it before it bounced back into place.

"Just hit the ball." He said low and heavy.

"With pleasure." You responded.

You played more holes, and with each passing one, you felt more and more relaxed. You were so comfortable around Dean. You could say anything to him, joking or not. He was your best friend and your partner. The two of you laughed loud. You almost cried when Dean shot all his balls into the small creek on the fourth hole. He couldn't stop the laugh that erupted out of him when your ball hit the windmill blade, sending it straight back to you. Dean got playfully angry when you made three consecutive shots, and he made none. And after it had taken you about six tries to get one ball in, you jumped into his arms, laughing when you finally got it.

You laid down the weight of the world for a moment and enjoyed each other. The evening air kissed your lingering stares and playful touches. You and Dean found an easy rhythm as the sun descended below the horizon. The picturesque sky burned with intense oranges and soft pinks. The shadows of the low light cast Dean in an even more dramatic and contoured hue. The breeze was delicate and silken as it danced over your uncovered skin. You shivered slightly as you placed your ball onto the mark and lined up your club.

"What kind of stance is that?" Dean asked.

"Same one I have had this entire time." You said.

"No wonder you are losing. That looks wrong." He assessed, tilting his head and body to look you over.

"I'm sorry, Tiger Woods. Please forgive me." You joked. Before you could take a breath, Dean stood behind you. He slid his hands down your arms, covering your hands with his. His body pressed into you, so close that his chin touched your shoulder when he began to talk.

"Relax." He whispered. You breathed and let go of the tension keeping you stiff. You felt your body melt into his. He stood firm as you leaned against him. Dean took a breath into his lungs, his exhale tickling your back.

"Does that feel better?" He asked, leaning even more forward to look at your face. You raised your eyes to his, holding them before you spoke.

"It's perfect." You whispered.

"I agree," Dean answered, his gaze flicking between your mouth and eyes. A calm wind blew past you, your body shaking from the cool air.

"Are you cold?" Dean asked. You simply nodded your head.

"They have an indoor thing, I think; let's go." He released you from his tight grip. He took your club into his hand and wrapped his opposite arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the building. You snuggled into him, taking in his musky and manly scent.

Inside was a saloon-style bar for adults and some stuff for kids in the back. You and Dean sat at the bar, looking at all the decor, trying to inspire an old-west vibe. You each ordered a drink and turned to face one another on your stools. Over Dean's shoulder, you saw a photography set up complete with costumes and backdrops.

"I have an idea." You said with a wicked grin. You grabbed his hand and practically yanked him off the stool and through the bar. Dean looked up and immediately shot you a bitch face.

"No." He said.

"Yes." Was all you replied.

Dean put the outfit over himself, wrinkling his nose at the scratchy fabric. He returned to the bar and gave the photographer a shrug before placing his beer on the counter. He rested his elbow on the bar and waited for you. About five minutes later, you came back into the room. You wore a black lace corset that hugged your frame perfectly. Billowing black and burgundy skirts flowed out from your hips. The right side was hiked up and tucked into your waist, showing off black tights and heels. Layers of pearls hung from your neck, swaying as you moved. Your hair had been pinned, a burgundy feather sticking out from behind your ear. The strap of your left shoulder fell as you walked over to Dean. His mind went blank. The world fell away until all that was left was you. He lost his balance, his elbow falling off the bar, sending him stumbling forward. His hands wrapped around your waist to steady himself. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, looking up at him with large eyes.

"You know this is like really hitting all my fantasies right now?" Dean said, his voice dense and syrupy.

"Oddly enough, it's stirring some up for me." You replied, giving Dean a not-so-subtle once over.

"Alright! Let's get these pictures taken!" The photographer sounded cheesy and overexcited. You chose the backdrop you wanted and stood in front of the screen. There were props you could choose from. You and Dean both decided on a gun. You suddenly felt uncomfortable and self-conscious. How were you supposed to pose? This all felt weird.

"Don't worry. We can work through some poses together." The photographer said as if on cue.

"Ok, let's start with you in the chair." He pointed to Dean. "And you behind him." He told you. You and Dean took your assigned spots.

"Good! Now place your hand on his shoulder and your other hand with the gun on your hip." You did as he instructed. "Perfect!" He took a few snaps.

"Ok, now, good sir. If you don't mind turning fully to the side. And let's have our beautiful lady stand in between your legs." You bit your lip as you positioned yourself between Dean's muscular thighs.

"Wrap your arm around her and hook your thumb into her garter there." He said. Dean's thick fingers wrapped around your thigh, his thumb sliding into the garter. You took in a shuttering breath, trying to hide your arousal. The photographer took a few more shots before coming out from behind the camera again.

"Ok, now sit on his lap." He said. You stepped out of the way and allowed Dean to move into position on the chair. He then motioned for you to sit, kindness and a hint of amusement in his eyes. You sat down on him, crossing your legs and leaning into his chest. Your skirt opened up, showing off most of your legs. Dean cleared his throat but remained still. He once again touched your leg, smoothing his palm down from your knee to grasp your ankle.

"You doing ok?" Dean whispered.

"Yeah, this is fun." You said with a slight giggle. Dean smiled at you, tilting his head back slightly.

"You guys look amazing together!" The photographer exclaimed as he took more pictures.

"Finally..." He said, raising his finger to his chin in thought. "Stand up." He decided. You stood first, letting your skirts fall back over your body. Dean moved the chair out of the way and waited for his next direction.

"Ok, stand facing each other. Now you turn slightly." He said to Dean, turning him by the shoulders so he was facing more forward than you.

"And you grab him by the jacket." You held Dean's jacket with both hands, the gun resting against him.

"Perfect! Now, lift your leg to his waist." You once again lifted your leg, feeling your skirt open to expose all the way to the curve of your ass.

"And grab her leg and hold her steady." The photographer instructed Dean. Dean looked at you and gave you a tight smile as if he was holding back laughter. He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His other hand lay against the top of your thigh, the gun pressing into your skin.

"This is nice." You joked.

"Ya know. I was just thinking about how we should do this more often." Dean amused back.

"And look here!" The photographer called, taking the last of the photos.

Once you and Dean changed back into your regular clothes, you looked over the pictures. You had to admit, they looked pretty cool. The sepia tone hid imperfections well, highlighting your makeup and dark clothing. Dean looked ridiculously handsome, as always, his strong looks accentuated by the shadows and contrasts.

"I like these two," Dean said, pointing to the one of you on his lap and the one of him holding you against him.

"Of course you do." You laughed. "I like those too." You agreed. Dean paid for a large print of both of you standing and got a photo strip of your four poses. You were surprised he actually bought it. You thought he would want to forget you made him do this as soon as possible.

"I can't believe you bought it." You expressed your thoughts as you walked back to the car.

"Of course! I gotta have some reminder of the first date with my girl." Dean said in a joking tone. You stood in front of the car, not wanting to get in and end the night. You smiled and stepped toward him, looking up at him with your eyes.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked, your voice breathy and low. Dean cupped your cheeks, his thumbs pushing your jaw to tilt your face toward his.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," Dean said, almost as if he was telling himself and you.

"Finally." You breathed.

He kissed you like how the waves kiss the sand. Consistent and all-encompassing. His soft and full lips moved over yours with passion and adoration. His fingers twisted into your hair at the nape of your neck, melting you further into him. He backed you up against the Impala, your back leaning on the cold metal. One hand slid down your body, slipping under the hem of your shirt. His gentle fingers caressed your stomach and ribcage. His index finger sunk below the waistband of your jeans. You broke the kiss.

"I really want you to keep going, but there are kids here." You said, looking around at the selection of minivans in the parking lot. Dean leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. He nodded, moving your head with the motion.

"Ok, yeah." He finally said. The beginning of the drive was quiet and slightly awkward. Neither of you knew what to say after that. You pulled your leg onto the seat, and Dean instantly slid his hand down your thigh. He grabbed a fistful of the jean-covered flesh of your inner thigh and yanked you toward him. You let out a surprised squeak but quickly settled next to him. You lay your head on his shoulder and relax into the silence.

Dean walked you to your motel room. You turned to face him, holding his eyes with yours.

"I had a really great time tonight, Dean. Thank you for everything." You said sincerely.

"Does our night have to end?" Dean asked, taking a step toward you.

"No." You could barely get the word out before Dean was on you again. His mouth overtaking and tasting every part of yours. Your back was pressed against the wood door. Dean lifted you to him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Somehow, you got into your motel room, Dean stumbling in with you in his arms.

The two of you connected in ways you never thought possible. The world was deep in slumber as you explored every inch of each other's bodies. The cocky and self-assured personality he used as a shield fell away, and all that was left was Dean. Raw and real. Achingly beautiful. You silently pledged yourselves to each other under the crescent moon. No one understood you better. No one loved you better. No one. It was Dean. It was always Dean.

Tagging: @thinkinghardhardlythinking @watermelonlipstick @lacilou @kingofthetwats @bellabean5591 @coldgothapricotalmond @briskywalker @gia-25 @reconsidering-my-life-choices @paryl @cutesymrsinuyashagamer @katrynec @arctusluna @samfreakingwinchester @idreamofplaid @zeppette @katherine-ann1 @maliburenee @nancymcl @babymxxse @winchestergirl2

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