#Sam winchester fanfic

[samsno1]

warnings: oral s. (f.), pussydrunk sam

Sam never failed to make you see stars. Especially when he had you laid on your back, his hair tickling against your inner thighs and hands holding your hips down with an almost bruising grip as his mouth ate you out like his last meal.

Sam liked going slow, appreciating your taste and the feeling of going down on you. Your legs tightening around his head from time to time, when he hit an especific spot, your fingers going into his hair when you were close, your hips rocking against his face just for you to whine when he stops your squirming with his hands.

It was heaven.

He would get drunk on the feeling quickly, going for minutes and minutes until his jaw gave out — which usually took a long time to happen — leaving you either edged or overstimulated.

"S– Ah– mm..." You moaned out, pushing against his head with your hands. He wouldn't give it up. "T'much baby, too much" You managed to stutter out and Sam finally stopped, but not after giving a last teasing lick over your whole cunt, making you shudder.

He started kissing up your bare body, going through all the previous bites and hickeys he left on his way down. He left one last kiss on your left collarbone before being face to face with you. He had that look on his face, that lovesick, pussydrunk look he always had when he went down on you.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, your lips slightly parted as you let heavy breaths out. Hooded eyes and a lazy smile adorned your features as you looked at all the details in Sam's face.

"Sorry love" He said, pecking your lips. "You just taste so good it drives me insane" He murmured against your lips. You hummed and kissed him yourself, a bit longer, a bit more desperate than a simple peck. You pulled back again.

"You are an addict, that's what you are" You joked with him, shooting him a mischievous smile and his hands squeezed at your waist.

"How can I not be?" He didn't wait for you to answer as he suddenly reached down with his hand and gathered some of your slick in his middle finger. You opened your mouth in a soundless moan, your pussy still sensitive.

He brought his finger up to his mouth and sensually sucked on it, looking directly in your eyes. He made a show with humming — practically moaning — and you were absolutely speechless as you swallowed harshly.

"God..." You whispered.

"Especially when you look at me like that. Fuck, you're so hot" He almost growled as he smashed his lips against yours again, his tongue already invading your mouth in hunger. He arched your back with his hands, urging to be closer to your body.

Sam was absolutely crazy for you and he always showed you just how much.

—

A/N: Hey, this is just a tiny tiny drabble to give you guys something while I finish up a jealous!sam fic. Hope you enjoyed you horny asses.

[bklynsboys]

Operation: Hide Our Relationship (?)

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: “you know,” dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "you always look so cute trying to deny we're not together." you jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. “what?”

genre: fluff

word count: 0.5k

author's notes: wrote a silly little drabble about how i see dean hard launching his relationship! the man is the biggest blabbermouth & he'd definitely be the first to announce that he's dating the love of his life to the most important person in his life (aside from you, of course), his brother. so, sit tight! i hope you'll smile from the the tooth-rotting fluff <3

THE IMPALA HUMMED WITH THE AFTEREFFECTS OF THE HUNT, THE AIR THICK WITH THE METALLIC TANG OF BLOOD AND THE FAINT, ACRID SCENT OF BURNT BONES. Dean slumped in the driver's seat, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the chaos you had just escaped. You sat beside him, your hands trembling despite the adrenaline fade. A thin film of sweat clung to your skin, and your heart pounded like a trapped animal. In the backseat, Sam tried to ignore the charged atmosphere, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the darkening road.

He’d suspected for a while. The knowing glances, the easy touches, the way their eyes lit up when they spoke – it was like an open secret, obvious to everyone but them. He'd tried to voice his suspicions, but they’d always laughed it off, their denials as practiced as their hunting rituals.

“You know,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "You always look so cute trying to deny we're not together."

You jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart.” A lazy grin spread across Dean’s face. His green eyes, usually sharp and focused, held a softer glow. "You look adorable when you're all red-faced and in denial that we're together in front of Sammy."

A blush warmed your cheeks, and you could feel the heat rising in your neck. “Shut up, Dean!” You tried to sound indifferent, but your voice cracked, betraying the giddiness within.

There's nothing more than you want aside from screaming at the top of your lungs that finally, you and Dean were together.

"And you," cheeks still pink from your boyfriend's teasing, you turned your head towards his younger brother in the backseat. "Sam Winchester, stop smirking. I know you're finding this really funny."

Sam merely raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head at your accusation. "I didn't say anything."

Dean chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “See? So cute trying to prove my point.”

Sam couldn’t resist a snort. “Really, Dean? Now’s the time?”

Dean feigned offense, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “A guy can appreciate his own relationship, can’t he?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You two are impossible.”

Sam grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Just admit it, you’re totally into each other.”

They exchanged a look, a silent agreement to ignore him. But the truth was written in their eyes, in the way they moved in sync, the unspoken understanding that hummed between them like buzz.

“Can we please just go?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. "I wanna shower. I stink of graveyard dirt and sweat."

Dean nodded, his expression softening. He reached for your hand, his touch grounding. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Sam sighed dramatically. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

As the Impala ate up the road, the tension eased. With Dean's hand in yours, a promise of safety and companionship, you drifted off to sleep, the rhythmic hum of the vehicle and the gentle sway lulling you into a state of quiet.

[samuelsdean]

Next To You

pairing: sam winchester x reader

summary: waking up next to sam was your favorite thing in the world.

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

author's notes: i would very much love to wake up next to sam don't y'all think so? i literally wrote this because i think t'd feel so good to be hugged by him the entire night and wake up to him first thing in the morning.

WAKING UP NEXT TO SAM WAS PROBABLY YOUR FAVORITE THING IN THE WORLD. IT WAS YOUR REFUGE, A SANCTUARY FROM THE WORLD'S HARSH EDGES. It was a reminder that each day is another day you get to spend the rest of your life with the love of your life.

You loved waking up next to Sam because his warmth radiated like your favorite hoodie, chasing away the remnants of a cool summer night. Tucked into the space between his jaw and chest, you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, his arms encasing you.

Slowly, you untangled yourself from his embrace, careful not to disturb his sleep. The light of dawn peeked through the window, painting a golden sheen across Sam's face. His brow furrowed slightly, a crease etched between his eyes, usually reserved for facing down monsters, but right now, it softened with sleep, replaced by the slight ajar of his lips.  

Watching Sam sleep had you going through your memories in a flash—the way he surprised you with your favorite flowers, after being gone from a hunt, a shy smile gracing his features as he laid a gentle kiss on your reddened cheeks. You smiled wistfully when you recalled how Sam confessed to you his feelings the night he had gotten home from a hunt that went on too long and could've gone sideways.

The motel room door creaked open, revealing a battered Sam Winchester. Dried blood stained the sleeve of his jacket and he was sporting a nasty gash on his right cheek, a grim souvenir from the hunt gone south.

Exhaustion hung heavy around him, a storm cloud threatening to unleash the floodgates of aches and pains. He wanted to go to sleep as soon as he stepped inside the dank motel room, but the tiny flicker of light beneath the door held him captive.

There you were, bathed in the warm glow of a lamp, hands wringing together and brows crimped in worry. Sam seemed to forget all about sleep when he saw you. He has never yearned for anything the way he has right now with the sight of you, his relic of normalcy in his chaotic world. He pushed the door open further, the sound jarring in the silence.

You looked up, surprise giving way to relief. "Sam! Thank goodness you're alright. I was worried sick after you've been gone for so long."

A weak smile formed on his lips. "We got them. Nasty ghouls took longer than expected." He shuffled closer, the weight of the hunt pulling at him. He could feel the warmth radiating from the room, a stark contrast to the bone-chilling night he'd endured.

You stood up and reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch, even through the grime, sent a jolt through him. It was a simple gesture, yet it held the power to ground him, to remind him of what he was fighting for—what he was going home to.

"You look like hell," you said, your voice laced with concern. "Go wash up, then I'll get you something to eat. There's a diner near here, open 24/7 apparently, Bobby told me on the phone earlier, bless his gruff soul."

He allowed himself to be ushered towards the bathroom, crumpling onto the tub with a groan. As the hot water washed away the grime and fatigue, something else started to wash over him. It was the weight of his unspoken feelings, a truth he could no longer keep buried.

He emerged from the bathroom, a fresh towel wrapped around his hair. You were already by the table, a steaming cup of coffee and grub waiting for him. He caught your gaze, the way your eyes held a warmth that chased away the chills of the hunt.

"Listen," Sam began, his voice thick with emotion. You tilted your head in confusion as to what he was trying to say. "This life… it's not easy. It's dangerous, messy, and frankly, it terrifies me sometimes."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "But then I come back here, see you… and suddenly, facing it all over again, well, it doesn't seem so bad. It feels… bearable."

A blush crept up your neck, mirroring the heat rising in his own. You opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

"I know this is crazy," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But, I can't keep it in anymore. I… I care about you. A lot more than a friend."

The silence stretched, heavy with anticipation. He braced himself for a rejection, the fear of a cold fist squeezing his heart. Then, you reached out, your hand gently cupping his cheek.

"Sam," you said, your voice soft, "you're not the only one who feels that way."

Relief flooded him, warm and exhilarating. A hesitant smile spread across his face. "Really?"

You nodded, your eyes sparkling. "For a long time, actually."

He leaned in, the space between them collapsing in a rush. The kiss was soft, a tentative exploration of your unspoken feelings toward each other. But within it, there was a spark, a promise of something deeper. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, a newfound warmth radiating from within.

"So," he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips, "does this mean I get to keep bothering you for a while longer?"

You chuckled, a sound that filled the room with a melody of hope. "Looks like you're stuck with me, Winchester. Now, about that coffee…"

He pulled you close, the scent of coffee and the lingering warmth from the confession clinging to the air.  

Yes, in the face of whatever darkness awaited, this peaceful moment with Sam was a treasure. You leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek, a silent promise whispered against his lips, "I'll wake you soon, pretty boy."

The sunlight, bolder now, sliced through the gap in the curtains, landing right on Sam's eyelids. He let out a soft groan, sleep fading as he blinked the light away. Unlike you, mornings weren't exactly his best friend. For a moment, his eyes fluttered closed again, then snapped open, a glimmer of surprise crossing his face when he realized you weren't there.

"Morning, baby," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He reached out instinctively, his hand brushing against the empty space where you'd been. A frown tugged at his lips for a brief moment before it softened into a smile as he spotted you by the window.

You were turned away from him, busy reading a paperback. The rising sun cast an ethereal glow around you, highlighting the way your hair seemed to catch fire with golden light. A shiver danced down Sam's spine, a mix of the cool morning air and the unexpected sight before him.

"Hey there, Sleepyhead," you said over your shoulder, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back to face him. "You look like you could use some more shut-eye."

He stretched languidly, the movement sending a groan escaping his lips. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta get the lead out before Bobby gets impatient." He winced slightly, a reminder of the recent hunt probably still clinging to his muscles.

A playful glint lit up your eyes. "Lead out, huh? Sounds fancy. Did you polish your shoes too, Mr. Winchester?"

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a warmth radiating through you. "Only the finest demon-blood repellent for this hunter, sweetheart." He reached for you, his hand warm and strong as he pulled you close, grinning at how easily he could make you laugh with his comebacks.

As you snuggled into his embrace, a comfortable silence settled between you. However, a shadow lingered in the back of your mind. The thought of Bobby calling usually meant trouble brewing. You decided to break the comfortable silence.

"Any whispers about what Bobby wants this time?" you asked, your voice soft.

Sam shook his head, his expression turning serious. "Not a peep. Knowing Bobby, it'll involve something nasty, a whole lot of rotgut, and probably a cryptic message scribbled on some random book." He paused, his gaze softening on you.

"But whatever it is," he continued, his voice low and reassuring, "we'll face it together. Like always."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek. "Always," you whispered the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air—together, no matter what the coming day brought.

[rubyvhs]

day three : praise kink (sam winchester) .ᐟ 18+ fem!reader

“C’mon, honey.” And doesn’t it sound pretty coming from his lips. God, you’d kill to hear him talk to you like that all the time. Not that Sam necessarily doesn’t, but anytime you’re intimate it’s cracked up to a hundred and you feel the heat in your core so perfectly. 

“So beautiful, laid out like that, so fuckin’ pretty.” His thumb’s still working your clit, the same way it has been for how freakin’ long now and you’re still squirming underneath him, waiting, hoping, something will happen soon. But all he’s doing is talking and teasing.

His finger brushes against your entrance and you let out a gasp, your hand rushing out to hold his wrist in place but he grabs your arms, locking them above your head. “No, baby, c’mon, I wanna take my time with you. Missed you so much, God, I’m never going on a hunt again.” The hunt wasn’t even that long, just a few days. Not that you’re complaining if that’s what you get when he comes back.

“Sammy, please, I need you.” You whisper, looking up at him. He smiles before leaning down for another kiss that leaves you hardly breathing, your body chasing after his when he pulls away. “No, stop it.” You whine a little, your hands coming to his biceps where you squeeze as if it’ll hurt him.

“Want me so much you can’t even wait a few minutes for me to make it good for you?” He smirks, kissing down your neck, then tugging your nipple into his mouth which makes you yelp, your hands running to pull on his long hair. “So, fucking, perfect.” He says in between bites and kisses, basically making out with your tits. 

“Sammy.” Thank God he relents, pouting at you before lowering his head down to your pussy, licking slow slits that have you moaning out for more more more. Before he sits up to line himself with your enterance. He’s already so fucking hard you don’t doubt he’ll slide quickly, which is exactly what you need. “Oh my God, Sam, Sam, ah!”

“that’s my girl, so tight, God,” he sighs, pushing into you a little faster, burying his head into your neck. “You feel so good, sweetheart, can’t get enough of you.” He’s nipping at your neck absentmindedly and it’s driving you crazy, you can’t stop trying to push against him for more. 

He pulls back so he can look at you while he thrusts fully into you and you’re biting your lip underneath him. “My beautiful girl takin’ me so well.” He whispers, before he lets out a strangled moan as he feels you clench around him. And he might just die here happy.

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

DATING SAM WINCHESTER HEADCANONS

Sam is a complete gentleman. Once you capture his attention, it will be completely fixed on you and he will never even look around at any woman other than you.

That being said, getting his attention is very difficult. He was polite and kind to everyone, so you thought that he didn't want you particularly.

But he did. He liked you more than anyone else, and soon, asked you out.

Sam is the sweetest boyfriend, he'll try his best to know what you like and don't like so that he can make sure that he never makes you uncomfortable.

Hugs and cuddles. He loves it when you keep your head on his shoulder while he's doing research or reading a book. He pretends like he doesn't need affection but deep down, you know he does.

Everyone around Sam treats him like he's a baby, so in the beginning, when you had done that too, Sam had got angry. Very angry.

But as time passed, you saw how talented and capable Sam is, and learned to not underestimate him. Sam fell a bit more in love with you because of that.

Sam is constantly worried about others, including Dean and Bobby, looking at him like he was a freak, like he was inhuman. But you never looked at him like that. For you, he was just Sam. Your Sam.

He takes great pride in the fact that he's tall, and teases you about your height more often than not. You try to tease him back and it eventually ends up in a makeout session.

Sam treats you with great care, but he doesn't underestimate you. He loves and cherishes you while being aware of how strong you are.

He will always make sure that you get enough rest and food. If you're ever upset, he'll try to talk to you and coax the problem out of you. In the sweetest, gentlest way possible.

Whenever he and Dean argue, he always comes to you and talks to you about how he disagrees with most of his family values, and you listen to him patiently, just glad that he doesn't shut himself off like his brother and actually talks about his feelings.

Sam's love language is words of affirmation. He needs to be told how good and kind he is, relying on healthy communication more than anything else. In return, he constantly praises you, showering you with love and appreciation.

Contrary to what most people might believe, Sam is not a boring person. He has different ideas of fun, and though he's not the most joyous or exuberant person around, he's fun to be with. He will make sure that you never get bored in his presence.

That being said, he does get insecure that you might leave him for someone better, someone louder, more enthusiastic, but you convince him with both words and actions that he's the one for you, and you wouldn't even think of leaving him.

He's not the only one who gets insecure, though. Being extraordinarily handsome and cute, many girls and even a couple of guys flirt with him on multiple occasions, even when you're right beside him.

But Sam makes sure to let the world know that he's yours. Many times, to get the point across, he'll kiss you in front of the lot to let them know that you're together.

Sam wants to quit hunting and start a family with you, a quiet, white-fence life, and since it's with him, so do you.

You and Sam are endgame, and both of you are going to make sure that you two stay with each other, forever.

[windchesterluver]

Playful tension

Summary: sam was your long time friend, but one playful afternoon makes you see him in a different light.

Word count: 1.1k

Notes: inspired by a character ai lol

Warnings: heavy flirting, s€xual tension (?)

You and Sam had been friends since you were kids and had been hunting together for years, but right now you were bored. Dean had gone out to dig up information leaving you and Sam cooped up in the bunker.

“Y/n…” Sam muttered not looking up from his laptop, “i can’t focus with you tapping” he stated blankly. You pouted and scooted your seat closer to him “Can you blame a girl?” you whined resting your head on your hands. He stopped typing to look up at you “No, but you being this close is distracting” you rolled your eyes, watching him dive back into his research. You took that as a challenge and you moved even closer, resting your chin on his shoulder “How about now?” You questioned with a smirk. Sam sighed but couldn’t hold back a chuckle “Very distracting” he said with an obvious hint of annoyance. He closed his laptop in defeat, about to give you the attention you were asking for.

“I win!” You said with a smirk “your gonna regret that” he told you as he placed a hand on the side of your head beginning to mess with your hair. “Alright enough!” You plead pulling back from him. “Nah” he smiled, bringing both hands to attack your hair. “Sam! I'm gonna do the same to you!” You shouted, stretching your arms out. “You're two feet too short for that,” he says standing up, his hair now out of your reach. “Oh really?” You remarked reaching up and forcing him to walk backwards until the back of his legs met the back of the couch.

You lunge at him causing the both of you to topple onto the couch with you on top of him. He let out an ‘oof’ and opened his eyes to you straddling his waist making him blush. “This isn't fair at all” he claimed “i had to be resourceful” you smiled grabbing a fist full of his hair. He let out a groan as you began roughly messing up his hair. “You look like a puppy!” You giggled to yourself. Sam grabbed ahold of your wrist “i do not.” He denied. ‘You're so cute’ you thought to yourself not realizing the words rolled off your tongue in a whisper.

“Did you just call me cute?” He asked even though he heard you clear as day, a smile forming at the corner of his lips. “What? No” you replied in shock pulling away from him. He huffed sitting up before quickly pulling you back down to his lap “Oh yes you did” he laughed. Your eyes widened “i don't know what you're talking about Sammy” you falsely claim leaning away from him, your face growing redder by the second. He gripped your arms bringing you closer with a playful grin spread across his face “Oh yes you do”.

Your demeanor switched and you breathed in sharply taken aback by Sam’s bold actions. He smirks noticing the change, leaning closer while holding you still. “You’re not getting out of this now” he teases. “Oh, am i?” Your question, putting up a tough front like his grip on you didn't have you completely flustered. It didn't work, he could feel your breath on him and see the red tinge covering your cheeks. “You're blushing so hard and trying to act like i can't see it” he chuckled.

“Your acting like your any less red” you confronted. He furrowed his brows “thats not fair” he said getting defensive over his own complexion. You rolled your eyes, he responded in protest by pulling you closer. Your chest now pressed against his, causing you to whine “sam..”. “Yes?” He replies, His hot breath against your ear. You sit in his lap unable to utter a word, “cat got your tongue?” You could feel his chest vibrating while he chuckled. He pulled back looking over your face, but your gaze fell on bis lips. “My eyes are up here” he said lowering his gaze to meet yours. “What?” You questioned breaking from your trance “you were staring at my lips” he explained softly “only because theyre so chapped” you tried to sound annoyed.

“Keep acting like i can't feel your heart beating against me” he smiled. “Shut up” you mumbled looking away from him, “no, look at me” he commanded using his thumb to tilt your chin back at him. It took everything in you to resist leaning into him as he glanced over your lips. He was giving into his urges, his face slowly getting closer to yours. He felt you squirm and his hands come down from your waist to softly caress your thighs. You close your eyes “Sam, we shouldn’t” you try your convince yourself. “Why not?” He asks softly, his brown eyes meeting yours.

There was no denying your feeling, you could feel your whole body relax when staring into his eyes and unconsciously started leaning into him. In one swift movement, he closed the gap between you. Pressing his lips into yours. The kiss was softer than you could’ve imagined, you let yourself linger, trailing your hands up his chest. Sam was melting, surprised at the warmth of your lips against his. His hands moved to your back allowing him to deepen the kiss, craving the feeling of your lips moving under his.

The sound of keys jingling made you both jump up from the couch. “Hi, Dean!” You call out trying to distract from Sam nervously fixing his hair. “Hey guys…” Dean was immediately put off by both of your rigid postures. Sam whipped the shared saliva from his mouth. awkward silence was suffocating the bunker “Well, I'm gonna head to bed…you know, let you two debrief” you gulped, trying your best to act normal. “Good night Sam” your hand traced down his arm before leaving the room. Sam eyed your figure until you were out of sight.

Dean raised his brows, “what the hell was that?” He asked sternly pointing in your direction. “Hu, what?” Sam broke from the trance you left him in. Dean's hand fell to his side with a loud sigh, “i need a beer”

[anglbby444]

Sam Winchester is a sex machine, no fucking doubt. His sex drive is almost as high, if not higher, than his brothers. Although he’s shy talking about sex with others, with you, this man has the filthiest mouth. He jerks off at least 5 times a week, every single time thinking about you. And he’ll let you know that. “I’m sure you’re thinking of my big, strong hands wrapped around my cock as I moan out your name, how I wish this was your pussy I was pumping my cock in and out of..”

[starfilmz]

i can’t write rn bc writer’s block, but i can’t help but imagine trust fund baby!reader who’s friends with sam when he was in stanford.

i don’t know if trust fund baby is the right label to use but just imagine very rich reader unintentionally (and intentionally) spoiling sam to no end especially when they’re hanging out.

sam would’ve probably preferred hanging out in parks, arcades, diners, etc just simple places where he doesn’t have to spend much money, and you’re not one to complain, but you would pay for almost half (80% if sam wasn’t paying attention) of everything yall buy.

he was used to eating just so he wouldn’t starve to death so he’d only spend money on one meal and a soda, but ever since befriending you, every meal ends with desserts— sometimes shared or not, but since sam can’t stop your sweet tooth and he continuously refuses to let you spend money on him, he’ll let you by one for yourself and you’d always share with him!

arcades are ya’lls favorite spot for sureee. whenever yall are too into a game, sam would fail to notice when you’d spend money on tokens. it would be his turn to play and he won’t realize you’re gone until he finished a round, then he’d just see you carrying a whole bag of tokens.

“if we don’t run out of coins then i’ll have more chances to win,” you proudly say. sam rolls his eyes and grabs a handful from your bag. “or just more times you’ll lose!”

for crane games, when you’d want a stuffed toy so badly, you’ll say:

“what if i just buy the teddy bear?” sam laughs at your words, but he’ll soon learn you weren’t kidding when you somehow managed to convince one of the attendants to let you buy with actual money.

sam walks beside you, staring down on the bear plushie in your arms. “how much did you pay the guy?” you only give him a grin as a response.

drinks are always on your tab unless offered otherwise. sam will always offer, after every night out with you, to buy the both of you greasy food to avoid hangovers though. friday night, usually past midnight, would be the time you’d see yourself eating whatever burger sam ordered for you, sitting on a curb in front of the diner with him.

a few weeks before his law school interview, you offered (forced) sam to let you buy him a suit. when sam first showed you the the suit he planned to wear (which were the ones he’d always use when he pretend to be fbi but you don’t know that) and despite his explanation that a quick wash in the laundry and some ironing it’ll look better, you simply refused and brought him to your usual spot to buy fancy clothes.

“since he’s a bit tall, you’ll need to do a lot of adjustments with the suits.” the saleswoman explained. sam immediately had a worried expression at the thought of you spending even more money, but before he could argue, you would’ve already handed your card to the lady.

“do what you need to do, just make sure we’ll get them back in a week,” you said. you turned to see sam and you could only gave him a reassuring smile at his face. “this is the least i can do for you, sam. don’t fight it.”

in group works, your “friends” would suggest doing the work at your house since you supposedly had the biggest. you don’t keep your upbringing a secret to anyone, but sam can see how uncomfortable you’d be when other people would boast your wealth on your behalf.

“i think doing it in the library is fine,” sam would intervene in the conversation you were already zoning out on. “it’s easier to plan meetings, too.”

“but y/n’s house—“

“—has other people living there. we don’t know if y/n’s parents would agree to every schedule we have so let’s just do the work in the library, or anywhere in the campus.” sam’s hand would be on the small on your back after, as if reassuring you and bringing you back into the conversation when everyone was expecting your response.

you could only nod, eyes on him. “yeah, sam’s right. sorry.” but you still gave him a small smile which was enough for him to know you’re thankful for what he did.

[stargazedwinchester]

Womanhood | Dean

Summary: Dean helps to comfort you during your time of the month, without much experience about periods, he tries his best.

This is a little different to the actual request, I hope that’s okay! I’ve tried my best to replicate it though :) Let me know if you want Sam’s/Cas’s version too!

Based off of this request here, thanks!!

Word count: 1,134

Warnings: some swearing, not loads!

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

This morning, you woke up with the most unbearable pain, cramps that felt like your appendix had ruptured. You groan in pain, hoping it would subside soon. You clutch your belly and slowly get out of bed. Your alarm clock flashes 7:39am, and you let your head fall. “I love when I have no sleep,” you mumble to yourself, letting out a huff. Looking behind you, Dean isn’t passed out, snoring so loud it would’ve probably woke you up anyway. You hold your belly and walk out toward the kitchen.

“Morning,” you grumble, and Dean turns around from the stove. His face lit up seeing you at the doorframe, your hair a mess and in one of his spare Star Wars t-shirts and your own pyjama shorts. “Someone’s looking rough.” He jokes, noticing you’re not smiling back. “Aw honey, what’s wrong?” He asks, his smile quickly fading. The smell of breakfast hovers over you, like it’s mocking your morning sickness. “I think I’m coming on my period today…” you say, and Dean turns round to face you, letting the eggs and bacon sizzle quietly on the stove. Toast pings out of the toaster at the same time. “Are you sure you’ll be okay for today’s hunt? If you’re in pain, I’m sure Sammy and I will handle it fine.” He genuinely looks concerned, as if you haven’t had plenty of periods before. It hurt like hell, sure, but you could manage just fine. Along with the fact that periods can make you super emotional and/or angry, you were certain it could come in handy when killing a couple of monsters.

“I’ll be fine Dean, honestly. I want to come with you both.” You smile, leaning over the counter top. Dean nods in agreement. “It’s always fun having you around. If you change your mind just let us know, okay?” He shoots you a quick grin before turning back to the stove, plating up your breakfast. “Where’s Sam?” You question, usually he’s already by the table reading his favourite book or getting ready to go out for his morning jog. “I think he went for a shower, I’m not sure.” Dean spins round and passes you a plate with 2 slices of toast, egg, bacon and hash browns. “Wow, this looks really good, Dean. Thank you.” You smile warmly at him, and he returns the gesture.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Your rapid breathing causes you to hunch over and rest your hands on your thighs, you take a deep breath. “God damn…” you say, looking up at Sam, who’s right in front of you. “What a kill!” You chuckle to yourself, wiping your hair out of your face. You stand up, giving Sam a high-five. “Good job, Y/N. It’s like you don’t need our help.”

“I know, right? I’m just that go-“ “Y/N! Watch out!” Sam cocks his gun and tries to shove you out of the way, a sudden loud bang shocks you as you feel something sharp pierce your skin abruptly. You fall over, Dean rushing to your side. “I’ll cover you, Dean, make sure she’s okay!” Sam quickly checks back at you, noticing blood is pouring out of our calf.

“Fuck. Y/N, are you okay? Does it hurt?” He panics, shuffling over to apply pressure on your leg. He rummages in his pocket for a handkerchief and immediately applies it to your wound, he rushes to whip his belt off and tie it tight enough around your leg to hopefully stop the bleeding. You can practically see the fear in his eyes, and you laugh quietly.

“What’s so funny, huh? Almost dying?” His hands shake, trying to keep the pressure on your leg at all times.

“I’m not gonna die, Dean. It’s just a gunshot. Stop worrying,”

You place your hand on his, and he gazes at you with so much worry. His gorgeous hunter green eyes comfort you, even though he’s feeling the complete opposite. You pull your hand up to his face and caress his cheek, he finally shows some sign of calming down. It’s like his whole body relaxes by just your touch. “I’ve honestly felt worse.” You joke, slowly moving your body to sit up. You wince, feeling cramp in both of your abdomen and your leg. “Help me get up,” you say, and Dean pulls you up, anchoring you from underneath, your arm draped behind his back. “Let’s get you home.” He says, catching his eye on Sam, making his way back inside.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

It had been a few hours since you arrived back at the bunker, you lay across the sofa, clasping your belly as the cramps still hadn't subsided. Your leg, however, had been patched up neatly by Sam, and were given some painkillers for it. It didn't seem to work that well.

"How're you feeling?" Dean pats your foot, walking past the sofa to perch himself on the very little space left on the armrest. "I feel like I've been shot in two different areas," You try to joke, but it only makes Dean glare at you, waiting for a real answer.

"Could you get me some period pads, or tampons, please? Either work," You state, trying to sit up. "Uh, yeah, I can do that. What... size?" Dean looks puzzled, which only makes you smile. "Regular, Dean. Get the ones with wings."

Dean stands up and gathers his thoughts. "Pads with wings. Tampons with wings. Got it. I think." He places his hands on his hips and looks to the ground, then to you. He smiles lovingly. "I'll be right back." He says, before grabbing his flannel and exiting the door.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

An hour or so had gone by, and you hadn't moved from the sofa. your cramps have worsened to the point of also giving you a headache. You hear the door open, then close. Dean's back from the store, and he's got a white carrier bag full of items. "I'm back," He chuckles, "Got you a few things." He walks up to the sofa, laying the bag on the coffee table next to you. "Oh, Dean, you didn't have to..." You trail, as he takes out chocolate, a small teddy bear with a t-shirt that reads 'Get Well Soon' with a small red heart underneath it. He had also bought you the pads that you had asked for, aspirin, fresh bandages for your leg and a small bunch of red roses.

Your smile gleamed as your eyes met his. "You really didn't have to." Your voice almost a whisper, and he moves closer to you. "I know, but I wanted to." He smiles, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

"Thank you." You say, reaching your hand up to the nape of his neck, pulling him in for one more.

[thesirencove]

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊ TO BE LOVED BY AN ARTIST -- SAM WINCHESTER X READER

another cute and fluffy work from me ! it's a little blurb i wrote that i was inspired by from a personal work of mine :)) i hope you all like it and please let me know if you'd like a longer work for this <3

my requests are open ! :)

sam winchester x gn!reader (romantic)

summary: what is life like when sam falls in love with an artist ?

warnings: none !

word count: 266

sam dating an artist. sam loving an artist. having paintings dedicated to him, being the subject of their paintings, becoming their inspiration. watching as they focus intently on their current piece, their tongue sticking out of the corner of their mouth. the brush strokes against the canvas, so precise he wonders how their hand doesn’t shake. he watches them in awe, wondering how one person could create such beautiful works. 

sam dating an artist. he asks them about certain techniques, listening intently to their explanations. he wonders about the paintings they created before they met him, wanting to know what inspired them before. what was their muse? what drove them? he wanted to know every detail, every part of the painting they created. their art was a window into their soul, and he wanted to know them, love them in their entirety. 

sam dating an artist. them teaching him how to paint, sam laughing as his shaky brush strokes materialized on the canvas. they smile at his piece of art, proud of his first painting. though it was horrendous, they still hung it on the wall for everyone to see. “it’s art, sammy. your art. it’s beautiful,” they would say if sam tried to critique himself. 

sam dating an artist. nearly every surface of their home has paint stains somewhere on it. their hands are covered in paint of every kind. at times, they even paint on their hands, testing colour combinations or new designs. sam letting them use his hands to paint on, smiling at the yellow flowers they just painted. 

sam dating an artist :)

[imagineteamfreewill]

Powerful Magic

Title: Powerful Magic

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 13.7k

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

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

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

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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

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

Damnit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Dean asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

“If that’s him, I can see why.”

“Be nice,” you tell him.

“Was he at least a good guy?” 

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

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

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

“No. That’s not why it was weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks.”

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

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

“And you want to be more than friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to press—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about me and Jason?”

“Were you ever… together?”

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

“Ah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was that all about?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She okay?” Sam whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

This is wrong!

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

“Sam? Sam, wake up,” you plead.

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” Dean asks.

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

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

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

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

“Just give me a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

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

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

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

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“You already took your shoes off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still you,” Sam says.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. Just tired.”

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

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

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

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

“How’d you sleep?” Sam asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be honest.”

“I’m tired.”

“Sam.”

He sighs.

“Sam.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Life.”

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

“Life?” you ask her. “But… Then…”

“I’ll die,” Sam finishes.

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

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

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

“Tell us,” you demand. “Tell us!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you reverse it?”

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

“And if we killed her?” Dean asks.

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

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask after a second.

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

“Without me.”

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

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

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay,” he says. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “I know.”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Like hell you are!”

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

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

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

Even if it kills me too, you think.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Okay.”

Dean swallows thickly, then nods once. “I’ll start calling. See what I can find.” He’s just looking for a reason to leave the room so you can’t see past his hardened exterior, and you both know it, but you don’t argue. 

You stare at the edge of the bed, just behind where he’d been standing, as he starts to leave. He’s made it to the door when you lift your head and look over at him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone needs to be in the bunker. It’s better if he goes with me than with you.” Before he can argue, you continue, “What if you need to check something against one of the books? Or if you need an ingredient we don’t keep in the car? What’s your plan then? Sam knows both the library and the storage rooms better than both of us combined, and he’ll be able to rest when he needs it. Plus, if I need to, I can try and recreate the spell Rowena cast to give him extra time.”

Dean is quiet for a minute, but you see him nod through the gaps in the metal floral divider that separates the door from the rest of the room.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then you two should get going. The sooner you’re there, the better.”

You’d driven together in the Impala, but it doesn’t take long for Dean to hotwire a car from the farthest row of the motel parking lot. The backseat is, mercifully, big enough for Sam to lay down without being at too strange an angle. You and Dean drag him from the room to the car together. You’re lucky that it’s getting dark and no one is out to watch the ordeal.

Dean loads your backpack and Sam’s duffel into the trunk. Then, he sends you off with a simple, “Drive safe,” and a hug. He holds you a little longer than normal, but you’re not opposed. It’s nice to know that you’re not alone in this.

The drive is uneventful. Sam sleeps for most of the night. He only wakes up a few times during the day for food and bathroom stops, and though he looks better since Rowena’s spell, he’s lost muscle mass and he still looks exhausted. You have to support him on the walk across the street to the motel the following night, but he falls asleep again almost as soon as he’s in bed. His sleep seems to be dreamless, and for that, you’re thankful.

You, on the other hand, don’t sleep much. You probably should, considering you haven’t slept in 24 hours, but your brain won’t turn off. You spend most of that night awake, listening to Sam breathe, texting Dean about his progress, and doing what research you can online. At some point you actually do fall asleep, and you wake to the sound of Sam stumbling across the room to the bathroom.

He’s getting weaker, you think, and you lay on your back, listening to the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running as you stare up at the ceiling. You’ve cried so much over the past few days that the thought of crying now is exhausting. You just don’t have the energy.

It’s not a strange occurrence for you to lay in bed and listen to the boys move around a motel room. There have been plenty of mornings that Dean has gone out for food while Sam showers after his run, leaving you to soak up a few more minutes of sleep under the covers. Now, you can’t help but feel a little nostalgic for all those mornings. You don’t have many more with Sam, and Dean can be unpredictable when he’s grieving. You’re not sure if he’ll go off on his own or if you’ll be able to stick together.

When the door creaks open, you turn on your side and meet Sam’s eyes. His face, which you’ve come to associate with bright mornings just as much as the sun itself, is gaunt. It’s a harsh reminder that you’re losing him bit by bit. His cheeks and eyes have begun to sink in as well, as if his body is collapsing inwards, like a black hole. The effects of Rowena’s spell seem to have been short-lived.

“Good morning.” He’s leaning against the open door frame of the bathroom, and he’s managed to pull on a pair of clean pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

You try not to let your bad mood show. “Morning. How’re you feeling?” you ask.

Sam shrugs a little and his gaze wanders to the digital clock on the nightstand. You have no idea what time it is or how much you’ve slept. You’re lucky that your phone was plugged in when you finally fell asleep.

“Same as yesterday. Maybe a little bit more tired. Where are we?” asks Sam.

Sitting up, you yawn and stretch your arms above your head, then roll your shoulders and neck to try and release some tension. 

“Ohio,” you tell him. You roll over to grab your phone and check the time—it’s after eight, and you’ve missed half a dozen texts from Dean. None of them are useful. “We’ve only got one more day of driving if I can go straight through. It’s about twelve hours.”

“We can take shifts.”

You look over your shoulder and fix him with a look, raising your eyebrows. He doesn’t react and you stand, then toss your phone onto the bed as you pull your socks back on your feet.

“I’m not letting you drive, Sam.”

“I can do it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not risking it,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t risk it.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

You falter as you rummage through your backpack for your last set of clean clothes. Sam is staring at you from the bathroom doorway, you can feel it, but you don’t look up at him. After a second, you slowly go back to searching. 

“Does it matter?” you finally ask.

He shuffles toward you and grabs your wrist, stopping you. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move. Reluctantly, you look up and meet his eyes. They’re just as resigned as yesterday, and though it makes your chest ache, you can’t look away.

“If I only have a week—”

“You don’t know that, Rowena cast that spell—”

“—then I want to spend it with you,” Sam finishes, and you peter out, not even bothering to finish your claim that Dean will be able to find something to save him. You know it’s not worth it, not if Sam’s made up his mind.

He continues, “I want to spend it doing all the things I love doing with you. You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

You close your eyes and turn away, hoping he doesn’t see the tear that slips out and runs down your cheek. You hate this. You’ve never felt this helpless before, not even when you’d been held captive for a week. In that situation, you’d known that the boys would find you and save you. You have no way of helping Sam out of this.

“I want…” Sam trails off, and he tugs on your wrist to pull you into a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around him and press the side of your face against him, keeping your eyes closed. 

I wish it was me, you think. I wish it was me instead of him.

“What are you thinking?” Sam whispers. His breath ruffles the hair on the top of your head.

“This is all my fault,” you reply. You can’t tell him what you’re really thinking without him lecturing you, so you pick the next best option. It’s really not that much better, if you’re being honest.

“Don’t say that,” he says. He squeezes you once. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Sam—”

“No, I love you, and I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over this. It’s not your fault, Y/N. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you quietly answer. It hurts to hear that Sam loves you. You know that he does—he’s your best friend, of course he loves you—but it hurts to know that he’ll never love you the way that you love him. He doesn’t have time to love you that way.

“I love you too,” you say after a moment. “I don’t…”

I have to tell him, you think. You start to pull away. Sam drops his arms, and he sits down as soon as he’s not touching you. The way he lowers himself to the edge of the mattress reminds you of some of the people you’ve seen in nursing homes while interviewing family members.

I can’t do this. He’ll just feel guilty.

“You don’t what?” Sam asks, and you look away.

“Never mind. I should get dressed,” you tell him. You turn back to the backpack and grab the clothes, then start heading to the bathroom with your clothes crumpled against your stomach. 

Sam reaches out with one hand and grabs your arm. “Talk to me.”

“Sam…”

“Please. I don’t want you to hide things from me because you think it’ll make me feel even worse. Trust me”—he lets out a wry laugh—“dying is the least of my worries right now.”

You freeze halfway to the bathroom, dropping your arms down to your side with your clothes clutched in one hand. After a second, you turn to face Sam, and you toss your clean clothes onto the bed behind him.

“That really doesn’t make this situation better,” you scoff. “I mean, come on, Sam! I’m about to lose the love of my life and he says that he’s not even worried about it? How’s that supposed to make me feel? Am I just supposed to be all, ‘Oh, okay! Let me tell you all about how I’ve had a massive crush on you—”

You stop talking the second you realize what you’re saying, which is much too late, and you snap your mouth shut. Sam stares at you with wide eyes and you stare back. Your heart is in your throat and when you finally feel embarrassed tears burning along your waterline, you turn around, clenching your hands into fists. 

Of all times for me to say that, you think, and you wish you could hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day.

“I’m gonna shower,” you manage to say. You take a step, then another, until finally, you’re locking the bathroom door behind yourself. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your heart is pounding inside your chest as your brain helpfully provides you with every possible outcome of the situation. None of them seem good. It should feel good to reveal the secret you’ve been holding so closely for years, but instead it’s only made you feel worse. On top of everything that Sam’s feeling and going through, he now has to deal with the news that you’re the biggest idiot on the planet. What kind of sappy Hallmark movie do you think you’re in? A hunter’s life doesn’t allow for love, let alone for a relationship with your hunting partner-slash-best friend.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly straighten up from the sink.

“Yeah?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Can I come in?” Sam asks. He jiggles the doorknob.

“Um..” Your voice trembles again and you inhale deeply through your nose as you open your eyes and look around. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a rat’s nest. The neckline of the old t-shirt you’ve been wearing since yesterday morning is stretched out and gaping, revealing a fading scar from a werewolf three weeks ago.

“You can say no,” Sam adds. “I can wait out here for you.”

Reaching out with one hand, you twist the doorknob and open the door. Sam has one hand against the door frame to help keep himself upright. Somehow he looks even worse than when you’d been by the bed just a minute before.

It’s probably just the lighting. He can’t be dying that quickly, right?

He doesn’t speak right away, so you step back into the bathroom and pull back the shower curtain, getting ready to start your shower. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I reacted to that poorly.”

“I didn’t mean to say all that,” you quietly admit, stopping just past the end of the counter. You don’t dare look up at him right now. Instead, you look down at a yellowed stain on the edge, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. “It’s not fair of me to tell you and then run away, especially since it’s too late.”

He leans forward, slowly entering the bathroom so you have time to back away. You don’t.

“Who says it’s too late? I know it’s not ideal, but I did say that I wanted to spend my time with you.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together as the new wave tears that have been forming finally escape. With one hand, you wipe them away and press your lips together. Sam pulls you into another hug.

“This is my worst nightmare,” you tell him. “I didn’t even know it was, but it is.”

“What? Spending time with me?”

A half-hearted laugh escapes you, and you blink your eyes a few times to try and clear the blurriness. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Sam kisses the top of your head and squeezes you once before dropping his arms so you can step away. Before you get too far, however, he reaches out to stop you.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he says, and you look back at him. 

The bathroom is tiny. It’s barely big enough for a sink, toilet, and bathtub-shower combo, but it feels miniscule once Sam steps inside. He’s taking up the space between the wall and the sink, leaving you to stand with your back to the shower and both the toilet and the wall within fingertip distance.

“Finish what?” you ask. Your heart skips a beat and your mind begins to jump to conclusions. What could Sam possibly have to finish that involves you? He’s not about to confess his undying love for you, right? That would be too cheesy, and too predictable for a hunter’s life. You don’t deserve that kind of happy ending.

Then again, it’s not so happy if he dies right after. You push that thought away immediately and try to focus solely on Sam.

He takes both of your hands in his, and though he sways a little, he stays upright. You try not to think about how his grip seems less firm than it has in the past.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too. And it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way. You don’t have to pretend to try and make me feel better. I’m not offended.”

Sam shakes his head and lifts your hands a little. “I love you, Y/N. I—” He stops to cough, a deep, bone-shaking, chest-rattling cough that forces him to lean against the wall on his left. He has to drop your hands to steady himself and cover his mouth, but you step closer and place one on his shoulder, hoping it’s enough to let him know that you’re there. When he drops his hand from his mouth, there’s blood on the side of his fist. Without a word, you tear off a piece of toilet paper so he can wipe it away.

“I’ve always loved you,” Sam manages after a few moments. He wheezes a little, and clears his throat to try and get rid of the raspiness left by his coughing fit.

“What?”

“I’ve—”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I heard you. I just don’t understand.”

He frowns at you, and you glance away, hating that you’re making this difficult for him. He’s balled up the bloody scrap of toilet paper in one hand, but he pushes himself off the wall and drops it into the trash can next to the sink. Without the support, Sam wobbles, and you reach out to catch him before he can fall forwards.

“You should sit,” you urge, and he shakes his head again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sam. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m not going to fall over. There’s no place to fall in here.”

“You could hit your head on the edge of the counter, or you could knock me over and we could both fall into the bathtub,” you argue. “You could land face-first on the toilet which sounds like a horrible way to be knocked unconscious. You could fall backwards and I wouldn’t have the chance to catch—”

You’re cut off when Sam slides one hand up to cup your jaw back with one hand, then tilt your head back to kiss you. He moves quicker than you’ve seen him move in since the curse, and you’re so shocked that it takes you a second to process what’s happening.

Sam Winchester is kissing me, you think, and you let your eyes fall closed when his fingers shift, weaving into your hair as he crowds infinitesimally closer to you. 

When he finally parts, pulling away just enough to catch his breath, you stay close, too. You can feel his chest heave a little as he breathes, and though it pains you to think that every time you kiss him from now on will be more and more difficult for him, you push those thoughts away. You want to savor this. You need to savor this.

“Sam,” you whisper, and he hums, then kisses you again. It’s shorter this time, and your hands migrate to fist in the loose fabric of the t-shirt at his sides.

“You kissed me,” you say the next time he pauses to breathe. He hums again and gives you another kiss. 

“Sam,” you insist, and he gives an impatient sigh. His hand moves to rest on your upper arm. The side of your face feels suddenly cooler in his absence.

Sam opens his eyes to look at you, and you pause for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You’ve always loved the way Sam looks—you’d be crazy not to—but it’s the first time you’ve felt it’s okay to unabashedly take in the brilliance of his eyes. Sam is beautiful, but he’s also intelligent, funny, caring, strong, and brave. You can see all of that just by looking at him. Maybe it’s a testament to how well you know him, or maybe he’s just that beautiful. 

Both, you think. The thought makes you grin, and you duck your head to try and hide it. It’s definitely both.

“What?” Sam asks, impatience clear, though he’s not angry. “What’s so important that I had to stop kissing you?”

“You kissed me!”

“I know,” he answers. He leans into your space a little more. “I’d like to do it again.”

There’s heat in your cheeks now. It’s hard to tell if it’s from how he’s making you feel or if it’s from his proximity, but you’re not complaining about either of those things.

“Why?”

He gives you a look, one that asks if you’re serious, but you don’t rescind the question. Finally, Sam drops his hand from your arm to your hand, and he fiddles with your fingers as he answers,

“Because I love you, Y/N. I’m not sure how much clearer I can be.”

You gape at him. “So when you said that you’ve always loved me…”

“I meant it.”

Your brain is whirling as you process the new information, and Sam moves to sit on the edge of the counter. He still has your hand, so he pulls you with him. You let him lead you the few steps without a fight.

“So you…” You lick your lips, and you swear that he zeroes in on the movement because his eyes seem to grow darker despite the bright white light from the fixture in the ceiling. “You like-like me?”

Sam’s eyes lift from your lips to meet your gaze. He stares at you a second, then grins wide and lets out a loud laugh. It’s almost a guffaw, and it makes the heat flare up in your cheeks all over again. You feel silly, like you’re a teenager all over again, just waiting for the cute boy in class to make you swoon.

“Like-like you?” he asks. “Definitely.”

He pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. His legs bracket you on either side. You close your eyes and revel in his warmth and the scent of laundry detergent and the motel shampoo that somehow always smells better on him than it does you. It’s something you’ve come to associate with him, oddly enough, but you’re grateful. Motel shampoo is a constant in your life and it will always be there, even if he’s not. 

Sam sways a little bit, leaning a bit more on you, and you open your eyes, moving your head back slightly so you can look at him. His head has lolled to the side and his mouth is parted slightly. His eyes are closed, but his eyelashes flutter as if he’s just asleep.

“Sam?” you ask. He doesn’t respond, and panic replaces the giddiness you’d felt only moments before. “Sam? Hey, wake up for me. Open your eyes.”

You unwind one arm from around him, pulling it towards your stomach and out from under his arm that’s still around you. You pat his cheek a little and look for any reaction, but there isn’t any.

Cursing, you try to maneuver him off the counter to the floor. It takes all your strength to keep him from collapsing or hitting anything on the way down. By the time you get him stretched out on the grimy tile and the towel that you pull from the bar on the wall to cushion his head, you’re sweating.

“Please wake up,” you plead, kneeling on his left, near shoulder. His breathing is steady, but he’s just as comatose as he was before.

After a few moments, you launch yourself up and out of the bathroom. Your phone is still plugged in on the nightstand, so you grab it and frantically dial Dean’s number as you hurry back to the bathroom. Sam’s still out when you get back, and you crouch between him and the wall as you listen to the line ring over and over again. Finally, Dean answers.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Something happened, we were just—” You stop for a second, wondering if you should admit what you’d been doing, but Dean beats you to it.

“You were what, Y/N? What happened?” He’s shouting into the phone as he drives and you swallow thickly as tears burn in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did,” you choke out. “This is all my fault.”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing! I mean, I kissed him! He kissed me first, and it seemed like he was alright, but then we were just talking and he gave me a hug and then he just passed out!”

Dean curses and you flinch at the volume, pulling the phone a few inches away from your ear. You’re on the verge of actually sobbing now, and you suck in a deep breath to try and stabilize yourself. Any sense of calm you’d felt less than a few minutes ago has completely vanished.

“He’s still breathing normally and I made sure he didn’t bump his head or anything—”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of him!” Dean shouts. “Where are you?”

“Ohio. At the Starlight Motel, off of I-71. We passed it on the way out to Boston.”

“I remember. I’m on my way.”

You can hear a turn signal on his end of the call and you set your phone on the floor, putting it on speaker. Judging by the noise in the background, he’s pulling off the road to turn around and head in your direction. After swallowing a few times, the lump in your throat begins to subside and you feel yourself starting to calm.

“How far away are you?” you ask, trying to focus on the steady sound of Sam’s breathing while at the same time listening for his response.

Dean answers, but you don’t hear it because Sam suddenly gasps for air. His eyes fly open as his chest heaves, and he coughs like he’s been suffocated. You shift onto your knees, lean forward, and quickly help him roll onto his side. He pushes you away with one hand as he props himself up with an elbow and continues to cough. You’re flustered and panicked, and your hands hover over his arm as you try to figure out how to help him further.

“Easy,” you soothe, and he takes another deep breath, followed by a few lighter coughs. There’s no blood this time, which is a welcome relief.

“I’m okay,” he wheezes. 

Still propped up on his left side, Sam closes his eyes. He breathes in and out slowly, steadying himself. After several seconds, the hand not bracing himself against the floor searches until it finds yours. He squeezes it once and you squeeze back, watching him intently.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” you question.

He rolls backwards until he’s flat on his back again, but he keeps hold of your hand, resting it on his stomach. He breathes for another few moments before opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

“Sam?”

“Y/N! Damnit, what’s going on over there?” Dean is shouting from the phone, and you realize that you’ve forgotten all about it. With your free hand, you scramble to grab it and pull it to your ear, taking the call off speaker with a singular jab of your thumb.

“He’s awake,” you tell him, feeling pretty breathless yourself. Your heart is still racing from the scare of Sam lurching into consciousness. “He’s okay. He’s alright.”

“He’s— He’s okay okay, or just okay?” Dean asks.

You look back at Sam, who lets go of your hand and pushes himself up into a sitting position. When he sees you watching him, he reaches for the phone.

“Hey, Dean,” he says, and he listens for a second before answering, “I’m fine. I think it’s gone.” He glances over at you while Dean replies, probably with more questions. “No, I’m not sure what it was, but I feel fine. Y/N and I will try to figure out what it was, and I’ll give Rowena a call, see if she can meet us here. How far away are you?”

“Tell him I’ll text him the address,” you interject, and Sam nods, relaying the message. He listens for a few moments longer, glances at you again, and then tilts his head away to try and hide his smile.

“Jerk,” he says. He smiles wider at Dean’s response. You don’t have to hear it to know what he says.

Sam hangs up a second later and hands the phone back to you. Without saying anything, you text the address to Dean, then slip the phone back into your pocket.

“Are you really feeling okay?” you ask.

He nods. “I think the curse, whatever it was, is gone. I don’t feel tired, and I’m not even stiff from laying down all day yesterday. Do I look any better?”

You search his face, looking for any sign of fatigue. The color has returned to his face, and the strange thinness that had made your stomach turn this morning is gone. He looks like he did just a few days ago when you’d made up in the library. Even his muscle mass has miraculously returned.

“You look a lot better,” you tell him, beginning to smile. “Like nothing even happened.”

Sam smiles back at you, as radiant as the sun, and you find yourself falling into his arms. He wraps them around you, but after a second he pulls away to look you in the eyes.

“I love you,” he says. “I know I said it before, but I mean it.”

Still smiling, you push his hair out of his eyes, cupping his face with one hand. “I know. I love you too.”

He kisses you then, like he did before, and your heart swells. You sit back on your feet as Sam leans into you. He smiles into the kiss when your free hand skims the length of his arm.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you murmur once you’ve caught your breath. “Okay?”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours. “Okay.”

You close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him being so close. The two of you sit in silence on the bathroom floor. All the events of the past few days have worn you out, even with the few hours of sleep you got, and you eventually shift to rest your head against Sam’s shoulder. He reaches over with his right hand, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes. You hold his other hand, the one he’d been using to prop himself up.

The silence is broken by your phone ringing after a few minutes. Sighing, you pull away and answer the call on speakerphone, setting it on the floor.

“I hear that Samuel’s on the mend,” Rowena says in lieu of greeting.

“I’m cured,” Sam answers. “Or at least we think I am.”

She hums in acknowledgement. “I’ll need more detail than that if you want me to tell you for sure. I may be powerful, but I’m not a mind reader.”

You roll your eyes at the haughtiness in her voice and reply, “He was unconscious for at least two minutes, but there was nothing leading up to it. He just passed out.”

“Did you eat or drink anything? Say any spells? Pray any prayers?”

Sam stares at the phone, his eyebrows furrowed together. “No. We were just talking and then—” He stops.

“And then you what?” Rowena prompts.

Sam’s eyes flicker from the screen to your face, and then he lets out a quiet chuckle. He’s smiling again, and you smile back. It’s contagious, despite the fact that you have no idea why he’s smiling.

“We kissed,” Sam tells her, not looking away. 

“I see.” Her arrogance has all but disappeared, and you know her just well enough to picture the sly smile forming on her face. “When it’s reciprocated by both, true love’s kiss is a very powerful form of magic. It’s one of the most powerful forms of magic. Wield it wisely, you two.”

You grin. “We will.”

She ends the call and you leave the phone on the floor, opting instead to lean in and kiss Sam again. 

“We definitely will,” he says.

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[samsno1]

Just finished it and i loved it so much! could i request a part 2 to Dream Of Me..?

Dream Come True

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

IT'S HERE!!!!! okay, so many of you asked for a p.2 and it's here, finally. Thank you to everyone who left comments under Dream Of Me and now you have the second part. By the way, I think this shows my slight (huge) obsession with Sam's muscles and my lack of knowledge in blowjobs

Read "Dream Of Me" here

Summary: Sam's avoiding you, he's weird ever since he woke up and you had to question him about it sometime.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected piv (which is fake and i do not encourage), oral (m. and f. recieving), nipple sucking, fingering (sort of), marking, angsty??? maybe, kissing, cursing, use of y/n, dean is done with these two, english is not my first language, NOT PROOF READ, ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE

WC: 11.6K (shhh, don't talk about it)

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

enjoy!

As soon as Sam arrived in the library and saw you standing there in those jeans that did wonders for your legs he immediately felt the room grow hotter. He felt like a high school boy who had just hit puberty with the way he was feeling today or as if it was the first time he dreamed with a woman in his bed – or other places for that matter. He did have feelings for you for some time, but everytime he thought about you, he thought about the sweetness of your smile or the way your laugh sounded when you were slightly drunk. Not about how loud he could make you scream his name.

Sam wasn’t innocent, and neither were you. He knew that you weren’t – he had heard, when the motel walls were too thin, the bed hitting against it and some curses of pleasure out of your mouth. And you most definitely knew he wasn’t, telling you and Dean the history he had with Ruby in excruciating detail even made you feel tingly inside.

Sam tried, badly, to be nonchalant about it around you but it was so difficult. Your plump lips moving as you explained the case, sometimes your tongue darting out to wet it, were driving him insane. He paid much more attention to the way you spoke to him with your hand on his shoulder during the drive to the case, your breath lightly hitting his face and reminding him of the hot kiss you shared in his head, your hand practically burning on his skin through his flannel. And when you finally found a motel to crash in for the time you stayed there, you started loading the gun barrels inside the boys room while Sam attempted to research and Dean was reading lore books on the small table the room had. The way you worked your fingers with your gun was so erotic without you even wanting it to be. Sam was on the verge of breaking as he stared at you, who was oblivious to his looks.

But one person that wasn’t oblivious was Dean Winchester. When he looked up from his book to Sam, ready to ask him a question, he almost immediately closed his mouth when he noticed Sam was doing anything but research. He looked at the way his brother was sitting, with an elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand, torso slightly turned in your direction, eyes trained on your hands. Dean then looked at you and was shocked that you hadn’t even acknowledged Sam’s stare. He smirked to himself as he shook his head in disbelief.

Of course Dean knew about Sam’s feelings. He got him to admit to his crush on you one night where the brothers were in a bar alone and you were in a hunt by yourself. Sam had just hung up his phone after talking to you, his slightly slurred words made you chuckle in the other end of the line and, when Sam put his phone down on the table, he wrapped one hand in his beer and sighed dreamily, staring mindlessly at his thumb that brushed the bottle left to right.

“Her laugh is so beautiful, it matches her” He murmured and Dean almost choked on his own beer, eyes widening at his brother, eyebrows furrowed. As if Sam had realized he actually said it out loud and not just thought, he looked over at Dean, face to face with his brother’s amused look. Sam just sighed disappointedly, knowing that there was no way he was escaping this, not even giving the ‘I’m just drunk!’ excuse. So, he just accepted it “Don’t tell her…”

As if all dots connected, Dean leaned back on his chair, a grin on his face as he thought about the interactions you and Sam had with each other and how it was actually quite obvious. “You like her?” Dean asked the obvious and Sam just nodded. After that, as the amazing older brother he is, Dean promised he wouldn’t utter a word to you about this and he was keeping his promise up to this day, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease the youngest about it…

“Hey Sam, have you found anything?” Dean spoke up and that seemed to wake Sam up from his trance. He cleared his throat and desperately tried to make it seem like he was concentrated fully on his assigned task.

“Um, y-yeah, all the victims died of blood loss and.. and there are bite marks…” Sam said, making you look up at him too, throwing your hair back with a movement of your head. Your hands had stopped working on the guns and you got up from the bed you were sitting, leaving the weapon behind. You walked until you were behind Sam and, using his body for support, putting your left hand over his right shoulder, you leaned in to look at the screen, confirming the information yourself.

Sam stiffened up the moment you got closer to him. With the way you were leaning in – your hand on him again – made him take a deep breath to stay put. He had his eyes glued on the laptop screen because he feared that if he glanced at you in any way he wouldn’t be able to control his most primal needs – A.K.A. avoid his sinful thoughts to take over and a boner to rise. He could feel your warmth behind him and, as you nodded and walked away, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions in his head, he finally felt like he could breathe.

“It’s clearly vampires. Thank God we didn’t have to turn libraries upside down to figure this one out” You said with a slight smile to Dean, your arms crossed in front of you. He closed his book with a thud, thankful for not having to do much more. You turned back to Sam who, at this point, had also closed his laptop and seemed lost in thought.

To get your suit in your bag – that you left over the other bed –, you had to go past Sam and, as you did, you brushed a hand over his arm and got closer to his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. You lowered your voice a little, for Dean not to hear what you were about to say, a worried frown in your face.

“Hey, are you doing okay? You seem off” You ask, slightly tilting your head, your eyes searching into his for any kind of discomfort, be it emotional or physical.

Alarms went off inside Sam’s head and, as soon as he could gather his thoughts together, he suddenly stood up, making you pull away from him and widen your eyes, startled. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and he swallowed deeply, trying to moist his dry throat.

“I’m fine” He mumbles before going to the bathroom, brushing past you in a hurry, his arm bumping against your shoulder. You stare at the shut door once he locks himself inside, mouth agape and an offended look on your face. You turn to face Dean again, questioning him with a look. Dean shrugs his shoulders and gets up from his chair.

At this point you felt kind of…hurt. You had done nothing to Sam, not that you were aware of, and your face dropped. Dean felt the need to guarantee you that it was probably nothing but even he was confused. Sam tended to long to be beside you, to touch you, or have any excuse for you to touch him. He swallowed his jealousy when you had asked Dean once to take his shirt off to care for his wounds. That day, as you stitched the gash on his brother's abdomen, Sam stared daggers at Dean, who felt the need to reassure him that you were all Sam’s, that Dean saw you as a little sister and nothing else. 

This kind of avoidance towards you was weird to the point even you felt affected by it. You weren’t one to take things to the heart – you’re a hunter for fucks sake – but when it came to the boys, especially Sam, you felt worse than ever. They were often harsh, either with each other or with other people. Of course they had to be tough and mean when it came to it due to their line of work but, behind closed doors, they were the sweetest people you’ve ever met, always caring for you and one another and often sacrificing their own comfort – and sometimes their lives – so other people can sleep without worrying about what’s lurking in the night.

Still, it hurt when you became a victim of their temper and Sam being the one shutting you out this time was not only unexplainable but also like a punch to the gut. Let's say the tall, muscular and smart guy Sam Winchester was had you falling for him quickly – and, soon, harder – than you expected. He always tried to be as sweet as he could be and as understandable. He had a natural instinct to comfort the victims you guys often talked to, always the one to do the talking. You had noticed the way he approached the subject with care, especially if the victim was related to the interviewed in any way, and had taken that as a mental note. Hey, he’s good with words. 

But, Sam could also be firm and assertive when it came to it. Once, while you and him were interrogating a guy who wasn’t cooperating at all with you, even when you both were disguised as FBI, Sam snapped. His big hand came with full force against the table, his palm facing down and a loud bang echoing through the small room. It startled you to the point where you jumped slightly, eyes wide as you looked at your ‘partner’. Sam was fuming. His nostrils were flared and his eyebrows were low, casting a shadow over his eyes. He slowly leaned in closer to the guy's face, a wicked grin emerging on his face.

“Look…” He started, voice low, raspy. He gently pulled his suit aside, secretly showing the man his shiny, silver gun safely resting against his hip. You watched as the dude swallowed harshly and his eyes stared at the weapon. “If you won’t cooperate with us…” Sam straightened up, holding both his hands behind his back as he started to walk until he stood beside the guy. He leaned towards his ear, the guy completely frozen. “We are going to rip the truth out of you” He whispered.

You had struggled to keep your composure. The way Sam showed his power over the man – who ended up telling both of you his side of the story after the threat – was distracting. It was safe to say you had discovered something about yourself that day. You had sat the whole ride back to the motel with your legs crossed to numb the throbbing between your thighs as you imagined Sam talking to you that way, in different settings. A cold shower was barely enough to calm you down.

The mix of all these things and other little stuff about the younger brother is what made him special to you. And, now, he was avoiding you.

You sighed and walked back to the bed, sitting beside the guns you’ve left scattered over it, facing Dean’s direction. You leaned on your knees with your elbows, holding your head with your hands, squishing your cheeks and making your pout more prominent than intended. Dean looked at you with pity.

“Did I do something? Say something?” You ask Dean, looking up at him. Dean shakes his head and sighs, getting up from the chair and walking to the mini bar. You knew exactly what he was reaching for and you stretched a hand out to grab the beer bottle once he handed it to you. You opened it easily with your hand and took three big gulps of it. Dean opened his as he sat down beside you this time, on the bed, and threw the lid over the bedside table, the material clinking against the wood.

“Nah, you didn’t do anything, he’s just in a mood” He said but it didn’t seem to help, your face still sad and your head far away, filled with the wrong thoughts. He sighed and gave you a side hug, your head laying against his shoulder. Dean rubbed his hand up and down your upper arm mindlessly to comfort you. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, you did nothing wrong, he’s just…being Sam, I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, okay? I’ll make sure to kick his ass later” He smiled.

You smiled slightly at the last part, shaking your head at the older Winchester, the typical brotherly teasing something you grew fond of.

Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, Sam was trying to keep it together. He had never felt this way before and it was driving him crazy trying to stay away from you because, at the same time he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if anything he did or said showed his attraction – physical and emotional – towards you, he was dreading this. He longed for your closeness, for your touch, not necessarily in a sexual way, much like the one of concern you had just given him. But right now everything became sexual to him, just your hand over his arms was enough to drive goosebumps over his spine.

He washed his face with the cold water from the sink, brushing his wet hand through his hair. He breathed deeply and dried his face, ready to leave the bathroom and go back to acting as if he didn’t want to kick Dean out of the room and have you right here, right now.

Once he opened the door, he regretted it almost immediately. When he saw Dean so close he clenched his hand against the door handle, swallowing his jealousy. You weren’t his, he reminded himself, he didn’t have the right to be jealous of someone that wasn’t his. But, oh, he was. It was uncontrollable, but undeniable.

He watched Dean’s hand rub up and down your arm, your head laid over his shoulder so comfortably. He bit the inside of his cheek as he approached the both of you to place his laptop back into its case. You had noticed his presence, lifting off of Dean and looking at his side profile. He won’t even look at me. You glanced at Dean, who had also realized his brother’s behavior, and gave him a disappointed look.

You sighed through your nose and grabbed your gun to put in the waistband of your jeans. You also took your bag that you always had with you on hunts, separate from the one with your personal items, and threw it over your shoulder. Dean just stared as you got ready to leave, not stopping you. He needed some alone time with Sam to ask him what the fuck was going on.

“I’m going to the car, we can leave once you’re both ready” You said. Dean acknowledged it with an ‘Okay’ and Sam just hummed. You opened the door and left, angrily walking towards Baby.

As soon as the door closed behind you Dean got up from the bed and aggressively spun Sam around, grabbing at his shoulder.

“Hey–!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean interrupted, and an angry scowl on his face. He whisper-yelled, still worried that you might hear them. Sam gave him a confused look and Dean rolled his eyes at the stupidity of his brother. “Why are you acting like this with her?”

“Acting like what?” Sam bit back, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Stop pretending like you don’t know Sammy! Why are you ignoring Y/N all of a sudden? Weren’t you the one all” Dean raised his hands, doing quotation marks with both his index and middle fingers “‘head over heels’ for her, hm?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. He crossed his arms in front of him, slightly looking down at his brother due to the height difference. “It’s nothing” He mumbled, looking away. Images of you roamed around his head at Dean’s question and it reminded him why he was doing this in the first place. He was avoiding you for your own good, you and your friendship with him.

“It’s not nothing, damn it, the girl thinks she did something. Did she? Because you sure make it look like you are angry with her” Dean kept poking at the subject, getting on Sam’s nerves. His face softened once his brother told him you felt bad. “What happened?” Dean asked again, this time a little more softly after he noticed Sam’s face drop at his words.

Sam sighed and looked around the room, nervous. He didn’t know if he should actually tell Dean about this – he’d definitely make fun of him endlessly. But still, he didn’t know if making you sad was worth it. He ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was under pressure and mumbled “I had a dream”

“What?” Dean asked, not understanding whatever language his brother just spoke.

“A dream”

“Dream? What do you mean?”

“I had a dream…with Y/N”

“What do you mean a dream with–” Realization suddenly hits Dean “...Oh” and he relaxes his eyebrows, like he just made sense of everything that happened that day. Then he smirks. Smirks and starts to laugh his ass off as Sam just stands there, cheeks flushed, waiting for his brother to calm down. He knew it.

Sam started to smile slightly as his brother kept trying to talk over his laughter, his embarrassment almost gone. Once Dean finally took a few breaths, a hand on his chest as he dried his fake tears and his laughter died down with a sigh. He looked at Sam who stood there absolutely flushed.

“Man, that’s why you were taking longer in the shower than usual” Dean said with a fake disgust in his face. “Remember me to wash that bathroom twice before using”

“Shut up” Sam mumbled and looked away, suddenly deep in thought. Dean stopped joking and crossed his arms, giving Sam a silent questioning look. Sam glanced at his brother. “What?”

“This kind of still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you avoiding her?” Dean asked and Sam looked at him like he had three heads. “Shouldn’t this make you, and I can’t believe I’m saying this but, excited to be around her”

“Dean, come on, I don’t want her to think I’m a pervert and, besides, she doesn’t even like me that way” And when Sam said that, Dean’s eyeballs almost popped out of his head, his eyes widening at his brother. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, asking the Lord above – better yet, Chuck – to give him the strength to deal with Sam’s stupidity.

“Do you not see it?” He asks. Sam makes a face.

“See what?”

“Oh my God, are you blind Sammy? Or just severely oblivious?” Dean inquiries. “She’s so obviously into you it hurts to watch”

“Dean, please–”

“Don’t ‘please’ me! It’s so clear! She’s always near you when she has the chance, she always insists on helping you when you get hurt on hunts, she looks at you like you’re the last man on Earth, she always worries so much about you…”

“She does the same with you and…” Sam bit the inside of his cheek “...you guys seemed pretty cozy when I came out of the bathroom”

Dean almost hit Sam right then and there, or took one of the guns and shot him through his leg – as a warning. How could he even…?

“Are you fucking serious? That girl is like a sister to me. And why would I even flirt with her when I know you’re into the chick? I’m bad but not that bad, I ain’t stealing your girl” Dean reasures Sam.

His girl. Dean said. But you weren’t his. Sam sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, a million thoughts running through his head. He walked close to the bed and sat down, his and his brother’s guns slightly bouncing over the mattress with the added weight. He held his head in his hands, his hair falling beside his face, his elbows propped over his knees.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sam asks, helpless. Dean shakes his head.

“Talk to her, it’s as simple as that” Dean responded as if it truly was that easy. Sam thought about it. You weren’t gonna hate him for liking you and, maybe, Dean was right and you liked him too. It was a 50/50 chance between rejection and love. He weighed his options and decided in his mind.

Sam suddenly got up, startling Dean. He grabbed his gun and bag, walking around with a determined gaze. Dean accompanied his movements with his eyes, wanting to question the youngest about what conclusion he had gotten to but he was soon with a hand on the door handle and he looked back at his older brother, smiling.

“Let’s go, we have things to kill”

It was safe to say that seeing you in a suit didn’t help Sam’s mind as it roamed back to those thoughts. As said before, you looked good in absolutely anything, but boy could you absolutely tear a man apart with the way you looked. You styled your hair in a more professional way using Baby’s rear view mirror and it looked amazing, your strands glowing in the faint daylight the day had left.

You were both standing close enough so that Sam was able to smell your perfume and the scent of your hair products. It became harder to concentrate on whoever you were interviewing, his eyes wandering to stare at the back of your head, wanting to see inside your brain for any message that said ‘Hey Sam, I’m into you too!’

Dean had gone elsewhere to deal with other things regarding the case so that left you and Sam. Alone. You felt, for the first time in years that you knew Sam, awkward to be around him. On the ride to the witness’ house, you barely talked, something that rarely happened between the two of you. You thought about asking what was wrong but that didn’t work the first time so you hadn’t done it again.

Right now, you sat on the passenger seat of the Impala, staring at Sam's hands gripping the steering wheel. He had hardly looked at you throughout the whole day — or so you thought.

Sam was in an intense battle inside his head and the way you kept looking at him wasn't helping. When he left the room after talking to Dean, he thought he felt brave enough to tell you everything he wanted to but, once he saw you sitting in the backseat in all your beauty, he was reminded of why he hadn't done it before.

He looked at you in secret everytime you were distracted. The way your hips moved when you walked, the way you crossed your legs in the seat every now and then. Oh what he wouldn't give to squeeze your thighs between his fingers right now. You had your arms crossed in front of your chest and — may Sam be forgiven — but the way it made your breasts look when you did that.

He gripped his fingers against the steering wheel even tighter, grounding himself from his thoughts, his knuckles turning white. He sped up the car, unconsciously trying to get back to the motel quicker.

You looked at his side profile then, a quizzical look on your face. He still didn’t look at you.

“Sam” You called. He didn't acknowledge it entirely, his head to focused on not getting a boner at the thought of fucking you in the backseat. You inch closer to him, a hand on his shoulder, “Sam!”

“What!” He answers, dryly. You brush it off, already used to his attitude for the day.

“You don't need to go that fast, we aren't in a hurry, God damn” You huff and pull your hand away from him, sinking back down in your seat angrily.

“Okay, sorry” He mumbles. You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. A message from Dean. You take your phone and read the message. “Found a bar, don’t wait for me to get back ;)”. You chuckle and send an answer back knowing you’d probably only see him next morning. You told him to be safe – in all ways – and not drink too much. Sam looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Who’s that?”

“Madonna” You reply, sarcastically. He doesn’t say anything so you look at his face, which has an annoyed expression over it. “It’s Dean, he found a bar, told us not to wait for him”

Sam hums in acknowledgement and silence settles again, letting your mind wander over the possibilities of why Sam was acting with you this way. You were usually pretty playful, talked a lot with each other, either in the car or before you both parted ways to sleep, each in your own room. This silence, this avoidance was driving you nuts trying to figure out what happened. You felt like crying, honestly, overwhelmed with this feeling inside you. These feelings, plural. Your feelings for Sam mixed with this sickness that downed on you when you would notice he could barely say a word to you.

Lost in your head, you almost didn’t notice when Sam parked Baby in the motel's parking lot, only realizing it when the comforting hum of the engine went away. You both got out of the car, getting your bags in the trunk. You weren’t in the same room as the boys but you felt the need to talk to Sam so, when you came up behind him to his door and got inside his room, stepping in and quickly closing the door behind you, he was confused.

“Aren’t you going to–”

“What’s going on?” You asked, throat tight and heart aching, but you refused to cry. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and you stepped closer to him, standing barely two feet away from the Winchester.

“You’ve been acting cold towards me all day! All damn day. And I have no idea why.” You pressed your index against his chest accusingly, pushing him back slightly, not because you were necessarily stronger, but because you caught him off guard, your outburst was unexpected.

“I didn’t–”

“I tried, okay? I tried to figure out what I did but I…I don’t know. I tried to talk to you earlier today and you brushed me off, you seem incapable of looking at me properly, you’re cold, you’re quiet and I have no idea why so, please tell me. What’s going on?”

Your eyes were glassy and your heart was racing. Sam was speechless, he didn’t know you were feeling this way. Dean had told him, of course, but he had no idea you were actually that affected by his distancing. And to think that he only stood away because he didn’t want to make you feel bad or creeped out about his nervousness, it had the exact opposite effect. He felt his heart sink as he saw you holding back tears and his first instinct was to wrap his arms around you.

You hugged him back, thankful for some reassurance that he at least didn’t hate you, your arms wrapped around his waist and your face pressed against his chest. Sam caressed your head, your hair feeling soft under his fingers.

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N, don’t say that” He told you.

You pulled away from his chest to look at him. “Then tell me what’s wrong”

Sam sighs and closes his eyes momentarily. He had imagined this moment thousands of times, where he told you about how he felt. He couldn’t believe it would be after he ignored you because you were too hot to handle. He looked at you again, drowning in your beautiful eye color, one that he could stare for hours at its beauty. He then looked up, asking for the strength to tell you all he wanted, his throat visible to you as he swallowed his nerves.

“Actually, yeah, you kind of did something” He says, moving his hands until he was holding your upper arms, a smirk on his lips as he eyes you down. You opened your mouth, shocked, but, before you could say anything, he continued. “You drive me crazy, Y/N”

You stood still, scared to move as he talked. You were confused, lost. Hadn’t he just said you had nothing to do with this? Meanwhile, Sam just looked at you for a few seconds, silent. He took you in completely, your body still hidden under the FBI suit but he felt like he already had it memorized. He wanted to touch you, to feel you and he felt like, if he held back any longer, he could lose you. Lose you to someone who wasn’t scared of loving you. “Sam, I don’t–”

“Just– Look at you. You are one of the most amazing women I know, you’re strong, you’re smart, you– God, there’s no words that can describe just how incredible you are. You care for people more than you do for yourself and, even if that makes me angry sometimes, it just shows how big of a heart you have” He takes a breath. “You can be dying but you’d still put a bandaid on someone's scraped knee just because they asked you to, because you care.”

Sam slowly moves his hands to hold you by your neck, his rough palms hot against your skin. You had no words, you just hoped that your eyes could talk for you as you stared into his hazel ones. You had so much to say but words refused to form in your mouth. You never thought Sam would be the one to confess, hell, you never thought he even liked you that way. Hearing him say those things was like getting hit by a train of happiness. You raised your hands to wrap around his wrists, gently holding them as you prayed for him to continue.

“You’re the girl I picture to be forever in my life, if not as a lover, please let it be as a friend. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, but, at the same time, I can’t keep these feelings to myself much longer. If you don’t want me that way, it’s fine, but I need you here with me, one way or another” Sam finishes and starts searching your face for any kind of reaction. He just put his heart in your hands and it was up to you to shatter it or not. He felt his nerves on fire. He rubbed his thumb against your jawline to keep himself grounded and hold onto the comforting thought that you hadn’t pulled away from his touch.

You suddenly smiled, wide and proud. Sam seemed to relax when he saw it, a breath he didn’t know he was holding coming out of his mouth. You felt a rush of happiness go through you as you realized he wasn’t avoiding you because he was mad at you, he was avoiding you because he wanted you so bad he felt like he could make you mad. And that was so Sam. It was exactly like him to tone down his own feelings because of other people and how they might feel, even if it eats him on the inside. What felt even better is that he managed to muster up the courage to come here and tell you about everything in the most Sam way possible, in a way that made shivers run through you.

“Sam Winchester, if you don’t kiss me right now I might just–” He didn’t even let you finish, his plump lips crashing against yours in earnest. He waited months for this and there was no way he was delaying this further. Your words are swallowed down by his mouth along with a surprised gasp you let out. One of his hands went further until it held you behind your neck, his thumb still caressing your jaw as relieved breaths came out of his nose, he was so nervous he would get dumped and his heart crushed that kissing you felt better than anything he ever imagined. The dream might’ve been good but actually kissing you felt so, so much better.

Your lips were sweet and your skin felt soft, a big contrast against his rough hands from handling weapons and burning bones. Those dreams of his came to mind yet again, the thought of exploring your whole body with his mouth made him groan, opening his mouth and teasing your lips with his tongue so you’d open them. You gladly did, letting one of your hands wrap around the base of his neck, pulling him in. 

He lowered one of his hands to your waist through the inside of your black suit, pulling your body flush against his, squeezing your skin through the layers of clothing, eager to feel every inch of you. You groaned at his touch, a surge of heat polling into your belly. His hands took the opportunity to explore what he could – like dream Sam did – trailing his fingers up your back and you shivered, the light touch just making your need for him bigger.

His tongue explored your mouth, the kiss growing more heated within the moment. He starts to gently take the suit off your body, sliding it against your arms without breaking the kiss. Sam thinks for the first time in the last few seconds. He thinks about all the times he imagined being able to do this and, now that he had the chance and his feelings were reciprocated, he wanted to make it as good as possible for the both of you. He pulls away, wanting to make sure that you are on board with this.

His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you, pupils dilated with desire – desire for you. Not once in your life have you thought that Sam would look at you that way – and God how much you dreamed of it. He was always much more secretive with his antics than Dean was, often keeping to himself instead of bragging about it, but you knew. You knew he was a passionate lover and the way he behaves just gives away how much of a gentleman he must be in bed. 

“Is this okay? Are you okay with this?” He asked you, voice filled with lust and deeper than his usual. You could’ve melted right then and there as he looked between your eyes, searching for any discomfort. Instead of telling him, you decided to show Sam how bad you wanted him. You slowly walked back, dropping the suit he already had taken halfway off from your body to the ground. You didn’t take your eyes off of him and he stared intensely at you right back, attentive to what you were going to do.

Your hands slowly trailed up your body, roaming through your curves and you see Sam swallow, his fists clenching and unclenching beside him, his throat so deliciously biteable. Once your fingers arrived at the top button of your white shirt, you started to unbutton one by one, slowly. You took your time, eyes trained on his with a smirk on your lips. You were playing bold but the way he was looking at you made your knees weak. His eyes were analyzing every movement of your hands and he stood unbelievably still, like a hunter watching its prey, careful to not scare it away.

Once the last button was undone, you dropped the white clothing to the ground. You now stood in your bra, the cold of the room hitting your skin and making goosebumps rise over it. You got closer to the man again and he accompanied you with his hazel orbs, now a tone darker due to his dilated pupils and the poor lighting in the room. You took one of his hands and placed it against your bare skin, the hot touch making you sigh before grabbing him by the neck with the other hand, bringing his face closer but, instead of kissing him, you placed your mouth closer to his ear.

“I want you, Sam” You whisper in his ear and leave a kiss right below it. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, keeping as much control as he could, biting his lower lip. He groans and a ton of thoughts go through his head – you, naked below him, your attitude gone as he fucks it out of you, pleasurable moans of his name coming out of your mouth. I want you, you said. He strongly grips your hips with both hands, making you yelp, and pushes you towards the bed, manhandling you successfully. Once your back is against the mattress, Sam immediately attacks your neck, kisses and bites making you sigh his name and arch your back into him.

“You have no idea what you do to me” He mumbled against your skin. And, really, you had no clue. He had spent the whole day thinking about this exact moment. The whole day, more like the last 4 months. The months where he had the urge to smash whatever man’s head that flirted with you against a wall and kiss you right then and there, in front of everyone to show who you truly belonged to. “For ages I’ve been thinking about you like this, you are everything that I think about and it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane”

He bites you particularly harder and you moan, your hand flying to his head and tugging at his hair. “Sam!” Your plea came out pathetically needy and he pulled away from your neck to look you in the face, his strong arms caging you beneath him and making you focus solely on the grin he had displayed on his lips. He kisses your lips again, passionate and needy, a groan rippling deep in his throat.

With his lips still glued to yours, he tugged his own suit away from his body, fumbling with the clothing and throwing it away so quick you barely noticed it, loosening his tie and bringing his hands right back to your body, because now that he could touch you, there was nothing in the world that could take him away. He landed his hands on your ribs and trailed then behind your back, his fingers teasing against your bra.

He broke the kiss and with unsteady breaths close to your mouth he asked: “Can I?” as he teases his finger under the bra strap. You hummed in approval and grabbed both his cheeks, giving him a firm peck on the lips to emphasize it.

“Yes, you can, please” You say. It came out much needier than intended but Sam didn’t seem to mind. You thought he didn’t, but he did. He smiled at you, feeling pride in the thought of making you needy and, hearing your voice – that’s so assertive and strong on a daily basis – breathy and desperate, made him wonder why he hadn’t done this earlier. You looked stunning under him and no dream could ever picture what he was seeing. Your eyes hooded, mouth agape and thumbs caressing the stubble on his face, eager to touch him as much as he was to touch you. He was looking right through the gates of heaven.

He proceeded to unclasp your bra, gently taking it off of you. He does all that without taking his eyes off your face and only allows himself to look down once the undergarment was long forgotten, laying on the ground. You didn’t know what to do or where to look, turning your face from him and feeling your cheeks heat up. You, of course, had been with other men in bed and you never truly cared if they didn’t think of you above a one night stand – you didn’t think much of them either. But Sam made you feel nervous. He was being so caring up until now, contrasting against most men you’ve been with, the thought of not reciprocating it properly made you shy below him.

He was appreciating the perfection he had under him, his fingers trailing your sides affectionately when he noticed your face turning away. You were biting your lip and avoiding his piercing gaze and he raised a hand to hold your chin, slowly turning your face to look at him again. He kissed you to ease your nerves but, this time, it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t simply a carnal need, he kissed you with love, with passion and you could feel it tearing through your soul, his feelings pouring out and painting your insides.

He pulled back again and his eyes traveled through your face as a smile painted his lips. “You’re beautiful” He says and you smile back at him widely, your heart racing in your chest. You didn’t know what to say to that so you grabbed at his loose tie that hung just below your jaw and pulled him in harshly, smashing your lips against his. The unexpected move made Sam lose his balance and you took the opportunity to change your positions, laying him back on the bed as you straddled his waist with your legs.

Sam gripped your hips as you made out, gently rolling you over him and you felt it. You felt him under you through the clothing you both still had on and a whine escaped your lips into the kisses. Sam leaves your lips to start attacking your neck, leaving hickeys and bites behind. He was holding onto the last ounce of control he had, you were just so much. Every little noise you made went straight to his cock and he couldn’t handle it anymore, you still had too much clothing on and he needed to do something about it.

Sam turned both of you over again and left your lips to stand straight in front of you. The sight of you half naked, splayed out over the bed, hair messed up, shiny spots from his saliva against your neck and collarbone was very close to the sight he’d dreamed about. But a hundred times better. Because this was real, he was touching you, kissing you, marking you and making you his.

He felt suffocated in his own clothes and he took the opportunity to take off his tie and his white shirt along the way, slowly revealing his defined body. You swallowed to try and not drool over the sight, his strong physique covered by a thin layer of sweat, the tattoo he had on his chest contrasting against his tanned torso and few scars he had here and there. Some were white, others were pink-ish – more recent – but he looked fabulous no matter what. You’d seen him shirtless before, while patching him up or when the bunker was too hot for either of the brothers but none of those situations were as intimate as this. He was half naked only for your eyes to see – as much as you were for his.

He noticed your stare and he smirked as he approached your lower belly with his mouth. You held your breath and closed your eyes as his mouth made contact with your skin. From then on, he kissed his way up, biting here and there in places only you would know if the mark was still there the next day. He kissed your own scars that were scattered through your torso softly, treating them with care because, as much as him, you had gotten hurt on hunts. Besides, he found it amazing how strong you were. He admired you and your scars were there to prove to everyone who saw you that you were a fighter.

His hands came up alongside his kisses, caressing your sides so lightly it was almost ticklish. When his mouth got to the valley of your breasts he looked up at you, a question in his eyes. He had his hands placed right below your boobs, not moving, not touching them, just there as he waited for your approval. You were burning up from the inside out, the sight was so much. His eyes pleading for you to let him touch you, his hair making a curtain around his face.

“Touch me, Sam” You whisper, knowing that even if it wasn’t loud, he could hear you. He grinned and went right into action, his hands filling themselves up with your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. You let out a low moan, the little stimulation you got from his fingers finally doing something to soothe the fire inside you.

He joined with his mouth, sucking and licking deliciously at it. You flew a hand to tangle into his hair, unconsciously tugging at his roots when he lightly bit at your nipple. Sam would groan against your skin every time you would tighten your fingers in his hair and he felt like he could cum just by hearing your faint pleas and breathless whines. He continued kissing up after that, his hands still squeezing your breasts lightly.

His mouth marked your collarbones with hickeys, painting your skin with reds and purples. He nipped at your neck, sucking at your pulse point and you bucked your hips against his, the pleasure too much and too little all at once. He was taking his time with you, appreciating every second that he could get and yet you felt his desperation when he tightened his hands around your boobs once your crotch hit his.

You tugged his hair harder to bring his face close to yours and Sam complied. You smashed your lips against his, the kiss all tongue and teeth, completely desperate. Your breathing was heavy and Sam brought his hands to your back, lifting it off the bed and making your chest glue against his, your sensitive nipples grinding against his skin. You clawed your nails on his shoulders to keep yourself together, markings that looked like half moons left behind in your desperation to remind you all this was real.

You dragged your hands down his arms, nails lightly scraping over his skin, and gently guided his forearms down, his hands going along. He proceeded to rest his palms over your covered ass, groaning in your mouth when he realized what you were insinuating. You wanted more, needed more.

You pulled back from his mouth just enough so you could talk. You opened your eyes to see one of the sexiest views you’ve ever encountered. Sam’s mouth was open, unsteady breaths hitting your mouth as his eyes stared down at you. You brought a hand to his cheek and just appreciated the sight for a moment before your mouth gave him an open mouthed kiss below his jaw. You felt goosebumps down your spine when he moaned lightly at your action, his hands squeezing at your ass. You placed your mouth close to his ear and Sam closed his eyes, waiting to see what you were going to do now.

“Fuck me, Sammy, don’t hold back” You whispered and Sam’s knees almost gave out, the nickname he usually hated hearing sounding so sweet coming out of your mouth. He pulled back to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking between your mouth and your eyes. You nodded.

“Yes” Was all you had to say before he grabbed at the hem of your pants, dragging them down your legs. He distanced himself from you to kneel between your legs, face to face with your covered pussy, the only thing you were wearing now being your panties.

After discarding your pants, Sam roamed his hands slowly up your legs, from your ankles to where your hips connected to your thigh. You were clenching and unclenching your fists beside your body, holding your torso up with your elbows and looking down to see him hypnotized by your soaked underwear, his eyes glued. You were embarrassedly wet and, as Sam dragged a finger over it, grinding against your neglected clit, you bucked against his hand, whining.

“Sam…” You pleaded and he finally looked up at you. You were taking deep breaths, your chest going up and down, decorated by the marks left by his mouth and teeth. You looked stunning. “Do something” 

And he does. He kisses right above your covered sex and you moan deep in your throat again, fingers gripping the sheets. Sam was feeling pride in himself. He was the one who got you like this, not any other man. He was the one you were begging for and he was the one who was going to give you everything you wanted. He wanted to worship you atom by atom of your being because that was what you deserved, he was going to treat you like the goddess you were.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and, like he was opening a present he long wished for, – which was kind of true – he takes it off so calmly you were close to combusting. When Sam finally sees you completely nude for the first time, only for his eyes to see and outside of his dirty dreams, he hums in delight. Fucking hums. He’s done for the moment he sees your cunt, wet and glistening just for him. Oh how badly he wanted this, for so, so long he wanted you like this and now he was finally fulfilling his deepest desire.

He squeezes your thighs in his hands before reaching for your sex, his middle finger collecting your wetness in his finger. You buck against his hand again, this time even more sensitive and neglected than before. And you cry out, not with tears, but a desperate sob for attention. Sam notices that and looks up at your face to see your eyebrows furrowed and a sheen of sweat in your forehead, you looked so fucked out without even him actively doing anything. He softened and caressed your sides with his hands, soothing your nerves – or trying to, at least.

“Shh, pretty girl, I’m gonna take care of you” He says “I’m just appreciating how perfect you are, taking my time with the girl of my dreams”

Your face softened and you felt your cheeks warm up even more than they already were. You bit back a smile. You felt unique at that moment, as if you were the only woman in the world as he said the sweetest words inches away from your pussy, it was almost laughable to think that one of the most romantic things you’ve ever heard was said between your legs.

Sam smiled at you and started kissing your inner thighs, so close yet so far from where you truly wanted him. He loved kissing your skin, he loved to feel you and you were keeping that in mind. He expressed his love physically rather than using words and you were just realizing it wasn’t just in bed he was like that. He always wanted to cook for you, he knew how you liked your drink, he would take care of you when you would get too drunk or when you were hurt or not feeling great. He hugged you, kissed the top of your head, pranked you. He gave you his jacket when you were cold or for you to use as a pillow when you were sleeping on a longer ride. He protected you, even if he knew you didn’t need it, either literally, putting his body in front of yours when someone or something threatened you, or not letting you go alone on hunts – including this one, where you had offered to go alone to questioning and, even if he was technically avoiding you, he wasn’t going to let you go solo.

Sam had loved you for so long and you were oblivious. Were. Because now he was digging his fingers in your thighs, mouth closing over your clit and you were arching your back. His stubble scratched your inner thighs, adding more to the building pleasure in your belly. He sucked at your cunt so skillfully that you wondered how long you would last like this and how much he had practiced to have a mouth that was able to do that. He moved his hands to your ass again, bringing your hips up and burying his face deeper into your heat.

He felt like he could die happy between your thighs because he wasn’t leaving there anytime soon. You were delicious and he was drinking in your noises like a drug, getting high off his lust and your taste. He hummed and groaned against your pussy, his cock pulsing so bad it practically hurt, almost cumming in his pants just from this.

“Sam– Oh God, please, please, plea–se” You cried out, the pleasure almost too much, the foreplay making you sensitive to a level you felt everything ten times harder. Sam knew exactly what he did to you, it was like he edged you consciously, knowing you’d beg for him louder once he finally got to touching you. And damn him because it worked, you were a moaning mess and he would be lying if it didn’t stroke his ego to hear you plead for him, submitting to his ministrations so quickly, it was adorable.

He was eating you out with everything he had, digging his nails on your skin. You were soon close to the edge, tightening your thighs around his head so he would not pull away. Everything around you consisted only of him, his scent, his noises, his body, him. It was overwhelming and, with a loud cry of his name, you came, hard.

The room went out of focus, your eyes rolling back in pure pleasure. You had trapped Sam’s head between your legs and he hadn’t stopped. He kept licking you clean, completely lost in your pussy. He could stay like that forever, until his jaw went sore, just so that he could hear you over and over again while he’s nose deep into your cunt. He only comes back to the real world – the one that doesn’t consist in an infinite loop of your voice moaning his name – when you pull at his hair and your thighs open space to let him get up.

“T’much Sammy'' You say, breathless. You bring him up from your cunt, and look at his face, glistening with your juices, a giddy smile on his lips – like a kid who just got a truckload of candy dumped at their house – and cheeks red from the heat. You smile back at him and giggle. Who would’ve thought that he would make you cry for him to touch you and, minutes later, you’d be laughing at his mischievous grin from making you cum.

You brought him back up with a hand behind his neck and he gladly crawled on the bed until he was face to face with you again, his hands supporting his upper body so he wouldn’t crush you. You looked at him for a few seconds, a look that you intended to fill with love and care and he reciprocated, his head angling 45° with a gentle smile that made him look absolutely adorable. You put a strand of his hair behind his ear, which proved useless as it fell right back to curtain his face, his hair being too straight and too soft to hold up like that. You chuckled lightly and pulled him in for a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the saltiness making you hum in his mouth. The kiss grew heated fast and you started to roam your hands over his chest, his muscles tensing under your light palms. You explored his body as much as he did to yours, caressing over every visible muscle he had – which, honestly, was a lot. When you got to his abs, Sam broke the kiss to let out a shaky breath. He gently grabbed your wrists and kneeled on the bed, his body now in its full glory above you, the lightning in the room making his body even more defined.

With your wrists in his hand, Sam dragged your palms, that were flattened against his skin, lower. And lower. Until you were touching the hem of his pants that he still, incredibly, had on. You stared at the bulge he had right below, swallowing thickly and letting out a deep breath, your cunt clenching in response. He looked big. You should have an idea, Sam was 6’4, of course it would be proportional to his height but God if it didn’t make you think about swallowing him down, the tip hitting the back of your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as he fucked your face.

“Want me to take them off?” You hear his voice, snapping you out of your fantasies. You looked up at him and down again. You hooked your fingers in the waistband and, on cue, Sam let go of your wrists. You slowly brought his pants and underwear down at the same time, too eager to keep up the foreplay and too desperate to tease.

When you finally see it, an audible groan reverbates in the back of your throat. Sam moans lowly, the pain from the constriction caused by his boxers and pants finally going away and making him even more aware of the neglect his dick got up til now. He watches your reaction carefully and, one of the first things you do is throw your legs back, standing on your knees, one hand supporting your body as the other stops midway to his dick. Sam felt his whole body burn with need. God what did he do to deserve you.

You were on all fours in front of him, head inches from his cock, eyes now looking up at him with a question. You felt like if you opened your mouth you would drool, you needed him inside it and you were silently asking him if it was okay.

Sam angled his torso to bring his face closer to yours, grabbing your chin with his hand and giving you a firm peck on the lips. “Do it, beautiful” He whispered against your mouth and straightened up again and you confirmed with a nod before wrapping your hand around his dick.

Sam breathed out when you started to pump him, your hand doing light movements. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of your name, a silent plea and you gladly listened. You wrapped your mouth around the tip, just the tip for now, and circled your tongue around it, the salty taste of precum invading your mouth. Sam’s hand instantly flew to your head, encouraging you to take him deeper, but not forcing you. Still, you started to relax your throat and took as much of him as you could, hollowing your cheeks.

“Y/N, baby, Jesus” Sam sighed and your insides tingled. You took what you couldn’t take in your mouth with your hand, squeezing and pumping using your spit as lube. You could feel Sam holding back, his hips stuttering every now and again. You braced yourself, deciding to give him more, and placed your hands on his thighs, tapping it twice with your index finger. Sam looked down at you, swallowing his breathy groans. He damn near came just by looking at you, those beautiful eyes staring up at him, your mouth wrapped around his dick. He concentrated, remembering the silent message you sent him.

“I don’t want to hurt you” He said and you did your best to shake your head no in your conditions. You won’t. And emphasized it by squeezing his thighs and pushing your head forward. Sam sighed and nodded. “Okay, but if it’s too much, tap three times, get it doll?” He asked. The nickname made you shiver, his voice sounding so sweet calling you that. Brushing it off you tapped his thigh three times, just for him to know you understood what he said. 

Sam started to rock his hips back and forth slowly, using your mouth for his pleasure. All you did was relax your throat as much as you could and breathe through your nose. He started to quicken up within time, losing his control as his release came closer. He was grunting and moaning and all his noises went straight to your pussy. He let out sighs of your name, his head thrown back and his neck glistening with sweat, his Adam's apple bobbing everytime he swallowed.

Too enamored by his noises, you lost focus and gagged on his cock, tears stinging your eyes. Sam loudly moaned your name at that, hips faltering as he tugged at your head to take your mouth off his cock. His breathing was heavy and his mouth was dry and he stood face to face with you to kiss your lips again, moaning inside your mouth. You were a bit disappointed that he hadn’t cum but you swallowed his whines gladly with your mouth, clasping your hands on each one of his cheeks. He pulled away and caressed a thumb over your lips.

“What have you got in that mouth of yours sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk and you bit your lip.

“Says the one who was eating me out like a starved man” You replied, wrapping one arm around his neck as your index finger traced his lips before giving them a peck, smiling once you pulled away. He smiled at you before wrapping his arms around your waist, like he would in a hug, and throwing you back. You shrieked as you landed on your back and Sam laid practically on top of you, attacking your face with tiny kisses, making you laugh under him.

Once he stopped, he just stared down at you. “Hi” He said.

“Hi” You whispered back after your laugh died down.

“Did I already tell you you’re beautiful?”

“Once…twice”

“You’re beautiful” He said, again “I’ll never stop telling you that”

“I can deal with it” You teased and he chuckled, going right back to kissing you.

Sam was one of a kind. You had taken some time to truly understand why you had fallen in love with him in the first place but there was not just one thing that made Sam Winchester special, everything he did just added up. From the huge things to the tiny details, he just was so easy to fall in love with and these moments were definitely one of those in the list, in which, no matter the situation, good or bad, Sam could make you smile.

As he kissed you now, his hands roamed your body like he had done before until two of his fingers teased at your entrance and you rolled your hips against his hand. Blowing him had made you aroused again and you could feel your wetness coating his fingers. Sam smirked in your mouth before slowly inserting his middle and ring finger inside your wetness. Your mouth left his to let out a moan, your foreheads glued.

Sam opened his eyes to watch your expression as he hooked his fingers inside you. You whined, your eyebrows furrowed and your nails left angry red trails over his shoulders. He lowered his head to kiss your neck open mouthed. He started to scissor his fingers inside you, preparing for what you knew was coming and you gladly relaxed around his fingers, grinding your cunt on his digits.

“Sweetheart, I need to be inside you, I need you” He whispered in your ear and you whined at the thought, nodding in approval.

“Yes, Sammy, please” You breathlessly said. Sam took his fingers out from your hole and you held back a complaint from the emptiness once you saw him pumping his hardened cock with the hand he used his fingers to prepare you, lubricating himself with your juices. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you again.

He wanted to watch you as he sunk himself into your heat and that’s what he did. He slowly started to enter you and your mouth opened in a silent moan at the stretch. He was filling you up deliciously well, right in the division between pain and pleasure and, the deeper he went, the harder your nails dug on his shoulders.

Sam was also struggling. Your tightness enveloped him in a way no one had ever done before and it felt so fucking good to bury himself inside you. He started to distract you from the possible painful stretch with kisses over your collarbones and neck, focusing on relaxing your body so he could make love to you properly.

At last, you felt his pelvis connect with yours and you were so amazingly full. His dick hit places inside you you could never reach alone and it felt incredible. 

Once you were used to his size and craving more, you rolled your hips against his, making Sam suck in a breath. He was trying to keep his composure but he was holding on his last ounces of control and when you moved he damn nearly lost it.

“You can move” You whisper and Sam wastes no time fulfilling your request, immediately starting to pump into you. He was euphoric, his mind was blurry as only images of you naked under him and begging for him to fuck you went through his head. You would tighten your walls around him from time to time and that would cause his breathing to falter and his hips to stutter.

You weren’t much different, every buck of his hips would hit you in a spot that made you see starts. You were already overstimulated from his previous ministrations so you knew you weren’t going to last long and, from the way Sam was twitching inside you, you knew he wasn’t going to either.

“Sam, I’m s’close” You moaned close to his ear.

“Me too, baby” He said as he brought his hand to press over your lower belly. You nearly screamed as he did that, you could feel him even better, his shape feeling like it was being permanently molded inside you. Along with it, he reached a thumb to rub over your clit – his big hands be damned – and at that you finally went over the edge with a desperate cry of his name. 

Your vision blurred as the only thing you knew was real was the feeling of emptiness since Sam was chasing his own release after leaving your warmth. He pumped his cock a few times and proceeded to cum over your belly, painting your skin with his liquids. You were spread out on the bed for a while longer after that, Sam panting above you, his softening dick still in his hand and you completely fucked out with a lazy smile on your face.

Once that high passed, Sam took you to the bathroom – bridal style – and cleaned you up in the bathtub with warm water and gave you the privacy you needed after he sorted himself out too, leaving the bathroom on his boxers.

You took your time, using the toilet so as to not get any infections and leaving the bathroom completely naked, too lazy to actually put clothes on. You just wanted to sleep beside Sam and wake up happy in his arms.

He saw you coming out of the room and smiled, eyeing you up and down.

“No clothes?” He asked

“Unless you’re uncomfortable, I think we’re past that” You joked and he shook his head.

“I don’t mind, come here” He said, opening an arm to invite you to lay over his chest and you gladly did, jumping on the bed and wrapping your arms around his torso, laying your head on his firm chest. Sam covered both of you with the white sheets, hiding your exposed body under them. You laid silent for a moment, just drowning in each other's company as you listened to his steady heartbeat.

Sam caressed your upper arm, his mind running with a thousand thoughts in which a thousand and one consisted of you. 

“Hey, want to know something?” Sam asked. He was taking advantage of the situation because now he was confident enough to do so, and he wasn’t delaying this any further if his mind would allow him. You lazily looked up at him, your chin now resting on him. Your eyes stared at him with so much appreciation that he felt even more encouraged to tell you what he wanted to.

“I think I love you” He blurted out. You felt your face warm up and smiled widely, but didn’t lose the opportunity to tease him for his choice of words.

“You think?” You raised an eyebrow. Sam panicked inside.

“No, I mean that–”

“I think I love you too” You interrupted before he could say anything else, your giddy smile never faltering. Sam relaxed and pulled you in for a kiss to seal this promise.

Who would’ve thought that Sam would have his dream come true at the end of everything. Yet, here you were, half-asleep in his arms after you admitted your love for each other.

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

[lostalioth]

Could you make Sam, Dean, or Cas(one or all whatever you feel like but I love Sam🫶) with like an alternative/goth person? I can describe me as an example, real short with fluffy purple mid-length hair, tons of piercings and genderfluid(uses all pronouns), with a slim thick but still more of a slim thick/chubby/muscular with great humor like Deadpool as you loved animals and horror games. I love going to concerts and art, anything creative and going to college for marine biology/zoology!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩/𝘢𝘭𝘵!𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳

warnings: gender neutral!reader (or i did my best to), goth/alt!reader (if i failed at describing that im sorry as well), reader described to wear eyeliner/makeup and jewelry and piercings mentioned, short sweet fluff with sammy boy.

a/n: a couple things i did my best to write this as gender neutral as i could? i may have failed as i tpcially write x female reader but i tried and i didnt know exactly what you wanted me to write besides one of the supernatural boys with an alt/goth person so sorry its just a short headcannon :) also this is my frist time writing for any of the supernatural boys so im sorry if he is out of character.

Sam loves to do your eyeliner for you on the days when you just don't feel up to it, your full makeup look often takes you a minute to complete. Of course as with everything Sam gets very dedicated to it and so he only does it after he has perfected it, not wanting to ruin your look with imperfect liner. Meaning sometimes it may just take longer in the end than if you did it on your own. You could care less though because as Sam does it, he will have a very soft grasp on your face and or neck the whole time. Softly caressing your skin with his thumb mindlessly in focus. The small action always makes your heart swell.

Plus: after almost 2 weeks of begging and endlessly promising to never show or tell Dean, he lets you do your signature eyeliner look on him. He wouldn't let you do your full regular makeup look on him but you were happy he even agreed to the eyeliner.

“Babe I promise you're gonna look so cool once I'm done” you gush with a small smile on your face. You had a hold on his chin to force his head still. You were currently sat on his lap in your shared room at the bunker, Him being sat on your vanity chair.

“You're lucky i love you princess” he chuckled softly and rubs his hands over your thighs, giving them a small squeeze as continue working on your masterpiece.

Speaking of your shared bedroom in the bunker, with your and Sam's combined wardrobes there was a severe lack of color. The both of you favoring black and darker colors.

You require attention from San often even when he is on one of his research deepdives. So Sam doing whatever he can to keep his girl happy worked it out that he will do his researching on the couch. That way you can lay out next to him with your head in his lap. He often finds himself playing and fidgeting with your necklaces or ear piercings, facial piercings, etc.

You have a darker sense of humor that tends to come out at inopportune moments on hunts. It never fails to break tension however and get a small laugh out of both the brothers.

Sam isn't all that big on PDA but loves giving you small random shows of affection, his hand rubbing your shoulder, a small squeeze of your hip in passing. His favorite though being small kisses of appreciation, reassurance, etc. though after a small and not entirely compliant of him messing up your makeup when he'd kiss your face and how it took you a long time. He began turning the small kissing habit into kissing your hand, the top of your head, your shoulder, anywhere but your face when you had your full makeup look on.

When you’d tag along on hunts with the boys Sam bought you a small vial necklace that matched all your other jewelry for you to wear and fill with holy water. Just in case you needed it.

The brothers also found out the hard way that when you're fully dressed up in your gothic/alternative look on hunts the three of you are often turned away at churches. You learned to pack a more normal outfit to switch into if it's necessary to step foot in church. You also easily overheat with your all black clothing. Sam started always keeping the AC on in the impala, at least when he's in the driver's seat that is.

Sam finds himself tracing or kissing your anti-possession tattoo that you had gotten alongside them. You don't often go on hunts with them, Sam being far too worried and nervous about your well being. He's concerned you'll get hurt even not out on hunts so he was relieved when you agreed to get the tattoo when they did. He wants nothing more than for you to be safe and happy.

“I will always protect you baby you know that right?” Sam questions softly as his finger traces around your shared tattoo and any others you have.

“I know that sweet boy” you smile fondly at your boyfriend and snuggle closer in his arms.

→ a/n: PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK AND HOPE YOU ENJOYED BABES AND SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS THIS WASNT PROOF READ :)

[samuelsdean]

Boyfriend!Sam Winchester Headcanons

warning(s): NONE, this is just purely tooth-rotting fluff!

author’s notes: i literally wrote these at 3 am and had to pause every now & then bc i had to scream into my pillow with how cute sam is (look at him!!) i know he’ll do these things (i know him personally) because he’s the biggest softie. anyway, i’m done rambling! i hope you can see the vision, my vision! also tell me if you want me to write more of these because i will <3 just send me an ask!

- study dates !! he’s a giant nerd but you love him for it

- not a big fan of pda :( BUT whenever you’re out studying he sits beside you! why? so he could hold your hand underneath the table (he’s clingy like that)

- his puppy dog eyes… your #1 weakness especially when he’s super duper tired :( and is feeling needy for you he just shoots you THAT look and asks you to scratch his hair with matching eskimo kisses until he falls asleep with his face tucked in your neck (and before i forget he likes to smell your neck because you find it ticklish & it flusters you he likes seeing you blush)

- gives the best ! hugs ! he’s a giant so whenever he hugs you it’s like you’re being tucked into the most comfortable bed ever and when he hugs you likes putting his head on top of yours and kissing it too & THE BACK HUGS ARE PHENOMENAL even though he has to bend significantly to reach your shoulder (what can i say? the man’s huge) he does so :( and he places his head on top of your shoulder and kisses it or your neck

- he likes kissing your cheeks bc you turn beet red every single time and he thinks it’s cute and when he’s running late or something but you’re busy doing god knows what he just randomly pops in and kisses your cheek before saying bye and smirk with a matching squish of your reddened face

- KNOWS THE SIDEWALK RULE (duh) !!!! whenever you both are out & about and you’re busy rambling abt whatever to him he listens intently but is also very observant about where you are so when you both reach the street especially a busy one he just holds you by the shoulders moves you to the side and then wraps an arm around you then continues nodding at whatever you say it’s become second nature to you both that when you’re in the streets he’s next to the cars and you’re on the safe side of the sidewalk

[rubyvhs]

day four : body worship (sam winchester) .ᐟ 18+ gn!afab!reader

Sam’s cock is rock hard, standing against his abs and you’re basically about to drool just at the sight. Sam’s a big fucking guy, bigger than you, anyways, and here he is giving himself up so completely. “God, Sam, you look so pretty like this. So beautiful, ‘nd ‘m already wet for you, you wanna feel, baby? Wanna make me feel good?”

He nods quickly, eyes scanning your body. “Yes, yes, wanna be good for you.” 

You bite your lip, leaning over to where he’s sleeping, hovering just above his chest. You lean down for a quick kiss and when you’re back up you don’t give him time to adjust to your heat in his mouth, and he doesn’t need any time, he’s already making out with it. Long rough licks that make you shiver and you’re grinding slowly against him, unable to stop yourself.

“Sammy, baby, fuck,” you moan, biting your lip. It doesn’t take more than five minutes before you’re close and tear yourself away from his warm wet tongue. He’s good at that. Way too good. You take a second to make sure your breathings back to normal when he furrows his eyebrows.

“You okay?”

“I’m good, you’re just— wow.” And the small blush on his face makes you want him impossibly more. He leans back down Ont he bed and your straddle his hips to kiss him, then down to his jawline and neck, your hand roaming around his abs, pecks, his shoulders, every broad muscle and rough exterior makes your suck harder on the spot you’ve been abusing. “You’re so hot, Sam. Like you workout, what? Twice a week? How did you even do that?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle before he groans at the sensation of your mouth sucking again. “Your chest,” you kiss your way down to them, circling around his nipple like he often does to you before taking it in your mouth for a few seconds. You’ve never actually tried it with Sam, but what better time than the present. His soft gasp gives you all the confirmation you need to bite lightly and his hand comes up to your hair. 

You let go and leave wet kisses down to his abs, “so perfect and pretty. I can’t believe you’re all mine. You’re mine, right, Sam?”

Like you need the confirmation.

But he gives it to you in quick breaths and mumbles until you move back down and bite your lips. “And your cock. Now that’s just so freakin’ pretty, Sam, ‘s so big and beautiful, hardly fits in my mouth but you like it that way, huh?”

He nods hastily and you lick up the base of his cock right to the tip, looking up at him through your eyelashes to see his eyes shut closed and lips between his teeth. You smile before you take him all inside your mouth and he lets out the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard. 

[superlunar-eclipse]

🌑 ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━ ACROSS THE COUNTRY

SUMMARY ➤ Dean and Sam, concerned about their missing father, approach their estranged elder sister Y/N, an FBI agent, for help. Despite initial resistance due to past grievances and her current job, Y/N eventually agrees to join them in their search, setting the stage for a journey filled with potential challenges and dangers.

WARNINGS ➤ injury’s, injured Y/N, stabbed wound (to the shoulder), small shard of glass on Y/N’s face and the back of their head, and slight arguing.

CHARACTERS ➤ Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N Winchester, mentions of John Winchester, and Adam William (added character)

WORD COUNT ➤ 1,180 words

OTHER ➤ Y/N is a FBI agent, small mention of Y/N being 32 years old, set in season 1, episode 1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ➤ first fanfic! hopefully dean and sam don’t act too OOC, but lmk if they do!

"Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam took a deep breath before responding, "So, he's working one of his usual overtime shifts on a 'Miller Time'. It's nothing to worry about. He's bound to stumble back in sooner or later."

Dean glanced down at the cold, hard ground, allowing his eyes to linger there for a moment before looking back up at Sam. His voice was full of concern as he said, "Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days."

Sam’s expression remained stoic, giving away nothing of the worry that was slowly starting to creep in. Jess, who had been quietly observing the exchange, glanced up at him.

"Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside."

"I mean, come on. You can't just break into my place in the middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam said, his voice echoing in the silence of the night as he followed Dean down the stairs.

"You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I'm not just asking you to hit the road with me. I need you to help me find him." He looked back at Sam, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"I- I don’t understand, why couldn’t you have called Y/N? Isn’t she an FBI agent or something like that?" Sam questioned, his hand reaching out to grab Dean’s shoulder in an attempt to halt his progress.

Dean sighed loudly, a sound that echoed throughout the quiet night. He bounced on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit he had whenever he was troubled. "Well I… kinda don’t know where she is…" he admitted shamefully.

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, a clear sign of his confusion. "What do you mean you ‘don’t know where she is’?"

Dean pursed his lips and rubbed his hands together, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Well I don’t know her exact location but I know she’s somewhere in Washington DC or something like that!"

Sam scoffed in disbelief and shook his head. "That’s all the way across the country."

"Well did you want this to go quicker?" Dean shot back defensively.

Sam simply rolled his eyes at Dean.

"Look, are you coming with me or not?" Dean asked, his patience clearly running thin.

"I’m not." Sam said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Why not?" Dean questioned, his frustration clear.

"I swore I was done hunting. For good."

"Come on. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t all bad."

Dean starts heading down the stairs once again, with Sam quickly on his trail.

"You know, in almost three years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing," Dean tried to reason, his voice softening.

Sam looks away and sighs, then looks back.

"All right. I'll go. I'll help you find the both of them."

Y/N, a 32 year old FBI agent, sat in the back of the ambulance as the woman cleaned up her many cuts. Her shoulder had been stabbed by the unsub and her head was smashed into a sheet of glass.

"Alright, you're done." The woman finished cleaning her cuts, placing a bandage on her forehead and applying gauze tape to her wound.

Y/N smiled at the woman and hopped off the ambulance truck.

"Y/N!" someone shouted from the distance. She turned to see her great friend Adam, who was the first one to welcome her to the FBI.

She smiled softly as he gave her a comforting hug, "Ow, my shoulder." Her nose scrunched up in pain.

"Sorry," the corners of his mouth turned up as he let go of her.

Other agents of the FBI walked up to her, thanking her for her bravery. "Thank you for saving that girl's life."

"No problem." She gave them a comforting smile.

The agents walked away to discuss matters with other departments.

Y/N and Adam talked about the case for a little while, before Adam turned his attention to something behind her.

"Hey, do you know those people over there?" He asked.

She turned around to look at the people Adam was pointing at. She tilted her head to the side, squinting slightly as she tried to recognize them.

Why did they look so familiar?

Her face paled when she realized who they were.

"Uhm, yea- yeah I do, I’ll be right back," she stuttered, patting his shoulder reassuringly before she walked away.

"What are you guys doing here and how in the hell did you guys find me?" Y/N whispered-yelled at the two boys, her eyes wide with surprise.

"We need your help," Dean replied simply.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, "Oh, so all of a sudden you both need me after what, three years of not talking to me?"

Dean, with a dramatic flair that was all too typical of him, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Listen-" he began, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

But she cut him off, her frustration palpable. "Dean, please, I really don’t have time for this," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Sam, practically silent until now, took a step forward. His eyes critically scanned over her face and body, noting the signs of recent distress. "What happened to your shoulder?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

In response, she lifted a brow and shot him a sarcastic look. "Take a guess, Sam. I’m in the FBI," she said dryly.

He rolled his eyes at her retort. Typical Y/N, he thought, not for the first time.

Dean, who had been silent during their exchange, finally spoke. "Dad’s been missing for a few days, and we… we need you," he stated, his eyes narrowed and serious.

Her reaction was almost immediate. Her jaw tightened, her eyes darkened, her whole demeanor turned defensive. "And why would I want to find him?" she shot back, her voice icy.

He faltered, at a loss for words. He turned away, his gaze landing aimlessly on the nearby crime site.

Now it was Sam’s turn to speak up. He stepped forward, his eyes pleading. "Y/N, please, we really need you right now," he implored, giving her a puppy-dog look. It was a tactic he used to use all the time when he was younger to get what he wanted.

She looked away from him, her lips pursed, her face screwed up in thought. After a long pause, she finally voiced her question. "How- how long is this going to take?"

Dean was the one to answer. "Four days."

She sighed out loud, a wearied sound that echoed in the silence. "You do realize I have a real job, right?" she asked, a note of exasperation in her voice.

Dean rolled his eyes, a retort already forming on his lips. But before he could speak, Y/N interrupted him.

"Fine, I’ll go with you two," she said, her voice resigned.

Dean smiled lightly, relief flooding his features. "Thank you, Y/N."

And so, they walked together to Dean's car, unaware of the challenges and dangers that lay ahead of them.