#Say Sam Winchester is selfish one more time

[hexedwinchester]

thiss!!! Someone said it.. Dean sacrifices himself for Sam but Sam sacrifices himself for humanity!!

[hexedwinchester]

everyone wants to talk about how selfish six year old Sam was for asking for the last bowl of Lucky Charms but no one wants to talk about the selfless six year old Sam was to offer up the prize that came along with Lucky Charms to Dean ❤️

[supernaturalfreakout]

The Morning After (Sam Winchester x fem!reader)

Summary: You wake up after a wild night with Sam. He refuses to let you to forget how good he made you feel ...

Tags: MDNI, fluff and smut, Dom!Sam, Sub!You, BDSM, consensual kink, aftercare.

Notes: This is part of a wider fic. Reader had mental health issues. Newly-established relationship. Sam is very protective over you.

The next morning came like a declaration. The sun was out, reigning high and bright in the crisp winter sky, and for the first time in years, you felt at peace; awoke without a deep, profound longing gnawing at your bones. The absence was noticeable. So noticeable in fact, that at first, it was almost unsettling. As if a piece of yourself had gotten lost in the night, only to be replaced by a feeling so foreign it felt out of place in your body. Where once stood a well, waters dark and stagnant, now existed an ocean—vast, moving, and alive. So instead of reaching for your phone, squeezing your knees to your chest, or holding your breath to fill the void, you rolled to the side, opened your eyes, and welcomed the day with the deepest sigh of relief you could muster.

Beside you, Sam splayed. His rich brown hair fanned like shards of chocolate over your faded floral pillowcase; his lips parted softly in sleep. His body took up most of the bed, and—as you had realized in the night—had a habit of eating the sheets. You now noticed that was probably because he clenched the edges in his fists, so whenever he rolled, they rolled with him. You smiled at that—little quirks only ever revealed in the midst of intimacy. After-hour truths and early-morning peculiarities. You wondered how many more he had; whether he knew them himself; whether you would be lucky enough to discover them all, one day. It was a wistful thought. A dangerous thought. Yet today, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to deny them.

Sweeping your eyes over his features, you admired the mix of sharp masculine strength, and soft delicate beauty. You observed the rise and fall of his chest in time with his peaceful breathing, the subtle flutter of his eyes beneath his lids, and his jaw; strong, but relaxed, framed by stubble that was getting even longer by the day. You knew that Dean would probably tease him for it, but you didn’t mind. In fact, it rather suited him. And the way it felt roughing up your thighs ...

You shuffled up the bed, wincing softly as you drew your eyes from the scene. It took every fiber of your strength, but you managed. It was too early for those kinds of thoughts, wasn’t it? Plus, you were sore, the ache in your glutes and hips reminiscent of a tough session at the gym.

Next to you, on your bedside table, stood a bottle of lotion, a half-sipped glass of water, and an open packet of Advil; the only evidence of last night’s promiscuities in sight.

After your shower, Sam had diligently stripped the bed, chucking the dirty sheets in the wash along with his soiled jeans.

Your face reddened at the thought, memories of the evening before resurfacing. You hadn’t had sex like that in… well … never.

Your eyes drifted back to Sam’s sleeping form. Your body heated. A selfish thought crossed your mind.

How easy it would be, you thought. To roll on top of him and take what I want. He wouldn’t say no. You were sure of it. Hell, he’d practically sworn an oath of servitude. But no. I can’t. I shouldn’t … Poor man needs his rest.

Sam must have felt your shifting as he groaned softly, then rolled away, towards the window where the morning light was waiting behind the backdrop of the curtain. You lingered for a moment, on the brink of hesitation before delicately slipping your legs out of the sheets, careful not to make too much of an impression in the mattress.

After quickly popping your pill, you padded barefoot towards the door. You floated down the stairs and into your kitchen where you went through the motions, swallowing your vitamins before pressing some fresh coffee for the both of you. Sam liked his black—because of course he did—health nut that he is. But your preferred brew was with oat milk, and a generous helping of caramel.

Balancing the two steaming mugs, you ascended the stairs and nudged open the bedroom door. The room was still bathed in the soft light of morning, the hazy transition between sleep and waking making it feel like you were in a dream. But you were not dreaming. This was real. And way more colorful.

Sam’s back was still turned to you, but he stirred as you set the mugs down on your nightstand. He rolled onto his back, blinking his eyes open. When he saw you, a sleepy smile spread across his lips.

“Morning," you said, your voice still hushed as you slipped back under the sheets.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “You’re up early.”

“Made you coffee." You nodded towards the mug. “Figured you might need it after last night.”

A low, rumbling chuckle sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “You spoil me.” He kissed your forehead as he reached over to grab the mug from your nightstand. “Mm, perfect,” he said, eyes fluttering shut as he took a sip, savoring the warmth on his tongue. “Just what I needed.”

You smiled, took a sip from your own mug before setting it down and snuggling into his side. Into safety. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment as you laid your head on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

After a moment, Sam asked, “How’re you feeling?” as his hand gently traced circles on your lower back. “Any more aches or pains?”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Last night, before bed—but not before a thorough debrief and a comforting dinner—Sam had insisted on inspecting the damage, checking your body for any signs of injury or abrasion, making you lie still as he massaged lotion onto your ass, wrists and knees.

“How bad?” you’d asked, looking over your shoulder as you laid flat on your belly, feeling particularly silly as he slathered another cold dollop on your ass cheeks.

The redness was fading, but the most abused patches had already begun to mottle. “You’re bruised.” He’d said it like an accomplishment. Even so, you could tell he felt a little guilty. Dude seemed to find a reason for self-blame in everything, you’d noticed.

Bruises were acceptable, you’d agreed. Favorable, even. As long as they could stay hidden. A secret for you to enjoy. You weren’t a fan of parading your winnings.

“Jeez, baby," he'd said, "you didn’t even stop me once.”

“Didn’t need to. I’m a tough cookie.”

“You most certainly are.”

Sam had continued his inspection of your butt a bit longer than necessary, watching the emerging patterns bloom before him. And you’d let him. It felt nice to be wanted; to be admired.

Now you felt the residual ache of the night before as you stretched out your limbs. A reminder of how he’d marked you. Claimed you. A brand you were proud to bear. The hickey on his hip paled in comparison.

“A few,” you admitted, casting a shy, sideways smile. “But nothing too bad. Just … you know, the good kind of sore.”

Sam’s eyes darkened as he met your gaze, remembering the intensity of your session; how rough he’d been and how you’d embraced it all. Embraced him. He’d get a proper look at you later; get a better idea of your tolerance. But for now, his hand continued its soothing movements on your back, dipping lower to massage the ache in your hips. “Let me know if you need anything. I might’ve been a little too enthusiastic.”

“I think I can manage … Besides,” you added, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the graze of his stubble against your lips. “You more than made up for it.”

His hand moved to your thigh, fingers kneading gently into the tender muscles there, his touch both comforting, and suggestive. “Maybe I should make it up to you again.” His voice dropped lower as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, guiding your lips to his.

The kiss was slow and deep; a languid exploration that sent a wave of heat through your body. You felt yourself melting into him, the soft sheets tangling around your legs as you pressed closer, craving the feel of his skin against yours. Suddenly, the ache in your muscles seemed to subside, replaced by a burning want. It had only been a few hours, book-ended by sleep, but still, you felt the pull, the desire to dive straight back in. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, the air between you sparkling with a familiar electricity.

“Careful,” you whispered, lips brushing against his as you spoke. “We might not make it out of bed if you keep that up.”

“Maybe that’s the point.” He slid his hand back under the sheets. Skimmed his fingers across your skin. “I’ll be gentle ...”

You swallowed, moistening a suddenly dry mouth. “You’re not ... tired?”

“Are you?”

“Wide awake.”

“Well, then . . .”

You let him guide you to your back, moaning softly as your head hit the pillow, followed by his mouth at the base of your throat. His kisses cascaded down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, tumbling over your hips like waves over rocks until they finally crashed in the hollow between your legs. The place that had become their home.

“I’ll never get sick of this…” A smile lit up his eyes, your sheen glistening like gloss on his lips. “You’re delightful ... Delicious.”

“You’re unreal.”

“No, princess…” A slip of a finger. In and up towards your navel. “I’m very … Real.”

----

This is an excerpt from my longer fic on AO3. You'll find more of this—including what they got up to the night before—here. 😏

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Quiet days ♡ Sam Winchester

Moments like this were rare.

Moments where the world stopped for just a moment, and it felt like maybe, just maybe there was peace and quiet. Well, almost anyways.

You knew what awaited you when you woke up. You knew there would be a mew string of bodies, and other salt and burn or a demonic possession. But right now you were being selfish. You'd earnt it, or at least that's what you tell yourself in order to enjoy these moments.

Sam was still asleep, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist, his hair slightly messy, an imperceptible smile on his face.

It was rare moments like these that you longed for.

It had been almost three months exactly since you and Sam actually admitted how you felt about eachother. It was years in the making. But then one night after a particularly hard hitting case everything was laid out. You finally showed hom your cards.

And that was the fist time Sam Winchester kissed you.

His lips soft and delicate, trying to communicate everything that he couldn't say, eveything that was simply too much for words to convey. Years of longing and hope finally came to fruition.

It had been bliss ever since. Well, as much bliss as can be afforded on the road. But you had eachother, and that was all that mattered.

"What you thinking about?" Sam mumbled pulling you closer to him woth his arm tucked around your waist as he placed a kiss on your hair.

"Nothin'," you sighed, surrendering yourself to his embrace.

"Love?" The name rolled of his tongue as if he'd been calling you this his whole life, it still made you blush, maybe that's why he always called you love. "Talk to me, even if it's utter nonsense I still want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

You turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes.

"It's just, this is all I ever wanted," you paused, drinking in his early morning smile, "The white picket fence, kids and a dog, the perfect life, a normal career. All of it means nothing if I dint have moments like this with you. Moments of slow peaceful bliss."

His eyes softened as he began to smile.

"God I love you," he mumbled as he tilted his head to kiss you.

His lips brushing yours for just a second when you began to pull away.

He began to pout, gazing at you with his infamous puppy dog eyes that made you simply melt. "what?" He questioned, feigning hurt.

"Brush your teeth, you have morning breath." You commented, smiling ever so softly.

He rolled his eyes and groaned at your remark as his head fell back onto the pillows melodramatically.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled tucking his head into the cruck of you neck pulling you impossibly closer.

Moments like this may be rare, but they were one of the most precious thing in the world, second only to the brunet man who lay beside you and saw his whole world when he looked in your eyes.

[hexedwinchester]

Yesss!! That's exactly why he went to Dean.. to tell him about his hallucinations but he stops because he doesn't want to add on to their trouble...

… Friendly reminder that immediately before this, Sam hallucinated that he was hanging in chains from the ceiling

[winchester-24]

I am SO gonna need a part two to Sam choosing between reader and ruby. I loved it and I’m CRAVING angst. I can only imagine how you’d continue the story I KNOW it would be good

I'm so glad you loved it! The response to this specific fic has been mind-blowing to me as someone who just started posting, and I am super humbled by it! Thank you for your support <3

Imagine Sam having to choose between you and Ruby (Part 2)

Cold. If any hunter was asked about you, that is how they would describe you. When Bobby came and picked you up that day, he let you sit the entire ride home in silence. When you two reached his house, he popped a beer for you. When you went to take it, he held it back and demanded,

“Sit.” You sighed and sat at his kitchen table, drank the beer he offered, and told him everything. He comforted you Bobby-style, meaning he told you it would be alright and the two of you would figure it out. You finished your beer, thanked him, and asked if there was any car he didn’t care to part with. While he had none running, he permitted you to fix any of them.

It took you a month to fix up a car. Everything you knew about cars you learned between Dean and Bobby. It was nothing fancy, but it would get the job done. Every morning, Bobby would make you eat breakfast, and every night, when you came in, Bobby would make you eat dinner. You would then shower, sleep, and repeat. It was like you were a zombie. When the car was completely ready, you packed your things, left Bobby a note thanking him and saying that you would call, and left.

During your month there, your phone would begin to ring non-stop. Calling, text message, voicemail. Sam was using any way you could communicate on the phone. In the beginning, you would listen to the voicemails.

“Hey, baby, it's me—again. Please pick it up and at least let me know you are safe. We can talk about this. I love you.”

“I know you’re mad- you have every right to be. I was selfish and stupid, thinking about what was best for us without consulting you. It was dumb, and I took full responsibility. Please call me. I miss you so much; I love you.”

Every voicemail sounded like that, but the contact became less frequent. Instead of all day, it was in the morning and at night. Then it turned into just at night. Then it turned into every other day until it became once or twice a week until the last week you were at Bobby’s, Sam didn’t try to contact you once. Good.

You went from town to town, trying every crossroads demon. Trying to get information, make a deal. Anything. Every demon denied you a deal, and no one would tell you anything. You were getting frustrated. In between finding demons, you would pick up solo jobs. The roadhouse became your home away from home, wherever your home was supposed to be. Some nights, you would end up like Ash, asleep on top of a pool table or bar; other nights, Ellen would give you the spare back bedroom.

Hunters would come in and try to flirt with you. You would be cordial and say no; however, every hunter was the same- stubborn, and thinking no would eventually turn yes. After the fifth hunter came through and tried to put hands on you, you grabbed his hand, twisting it like Sam taught you, and caused the wrist to snap.

That was the last time a hunter hit on you at the roadhouse.

Every so often, Sam Winchester’s name was brought up around you. Hunters loved to talk, and now you know how every hunter seemed to know you three when traveling, but you never knew them. Each time you heard Sam’s name, your heart became colder, and another shot was poured into your body.

Three more months had passed, and you were no closer to figuring out how to get Dean out of hell. A few times, you thought about calling Sam to see if he was close to saving Dean but decided against it. When your phone rang, you were in a hotel room, just finished clearing out a vamp’s nest. Bobby.

“Bobby.” You say that was your greeting now to anyone; you have no spark of joy left in you.

“I need you to come home.” That was all Bobby said. You sighed and flung your boot off, working on the other one.

“I mean, I can; it will be tomorrow, though; I just finished a hunt; is it that important?”

“It needs to be now,” Bobby said. I stood up.

“Bobby, what’s going on?”

“You’re going to want to see for yourself, get your ass over here and stop arguing with me.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll be there in a few hours.” You say before you hang up. You look down at all the blood on you and then make eye contact with yourself in the mirror.

“But first, I’m going to shower.” You mutter to yourself.

Freshly showered, you were at Bobby’s five hours later. You turn the ignition off and step out of the car. The afternoon light was setting in, and you started to get nervous. Nothing seemed out of place, so what was the big deal? You opened the door and called for Bobby.

“Bobby, it’s me; what’s so important,”  You stopped as you looked in the living room. Bobby stood there, along with- Dean. You gasped. Dean smiled.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He spoke. He went to walk towards you.

“Don’t move a muscle.” You say, grabbing your silver knife and keeping it under your shirt and pants.

“Y/N, I already did the checks, it’s him.” Your eyes looked over at Bobby and narrowed again.

“How do I know you’re Bobby?” Dean smiled.

“You’re good here; test me.” Dean held out his arm, and you did all the testing. When he didn’t react, you looked into his eyes, and tears started to form.

“You’re back.” You whispered.

“I’m back,” he said. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. After a few minutes, he broke the hug and rubbed your arms.

“Bobby told me about Sam.” Hearing his name iced your heart over once more. You looked away from Dean.

“He made his choice; I made mine. I haven’t talked to him since I left.” Dean nodded his head.

“I was going to try to find him if you wanted to come.”

“Thanks, Dean, but I’ll pass.”  Dean sighed and nodded while Bobby said he was going and was going to finish getting packed. You hugged Dean again before ensuring he still had your number and left.

A few weeks after that, you saw Sam Winchester for the first time in months. You heard rumors from the roadhouse about everything going on with Demons and hunting in packs and were looking for a girl, but you never went and checked for yourself. You knew the brothers would be there. Instead, you took up your usual gigs, hoping to stay away from the war.

It was a little salt and burn hunt. You were dressed in your FBI outfit, questioning the latest victim’s wife when you heard it. That low rumble you used to ride in. You quickly finished up your goodbyes, gave her your card, and started to walk back to your car when they stepped out. Sam’s eyes were wide, and he stood frozen at the vehicle. Dean was walking around the car. Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he kept advancing towards you. Dean wrapped you in a hug, and you returned.

Sam walked up to you and Dean. His eyes stared into yours; his mouth kept opening like he was going to stay something but then would shut it again.

“Are you still seeing her?” It is all that came out of your mouth. The distaste was evident in your voice. Sam looked taken back for a second but then regained his composure.

“No.” That was all he was able to muster up and speak. You looked at Dean for confirmation.

“I haven’t seen her.” That is all he said. That raised suspicion in you. You decided to let it go.

“If you want to help on this case, I can tell you what I have gathered so far; I was about to go get lunch- you guys are buying.” You walk past them and get in your car, not waiting for them to reply. You drove to the diner you saw on the way to the victim's house and noticed the Impala was not too far behind you. You grabbed a booth at the restaurant, and the boys slid to the other side of you. After you three ordered it, you started discussing the case and everything you learned.

“So, what’s your theory?” Sam asked after you gave them everything you learned.

“These men are not correlated to anything except they all went to the same bar. They were all at the bar the night they died. I’m not sure I would have to go back and ask all the victim’s wives, but I think these men were all unfaithful in their marriages. See, Kathleen Voss’ husband was unfaithful and wanted to be with his mistress, who, get this, was a bartender at that bar, so he killed Kathleen and tried to cover it up. Of course, he was caught but died in jail the same way as all the other victims.”

“So, you think these men are sleeping with a bartender?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know if they are unfaithful with a bartender or just in general, but I’m assuming that’s where Kathleen sticks around since that’s where her husband started cheating on her.” The boys nodded their heads in agreement as our food came. You ate, they paid, and then you told them where you were staying. Before Sam could even have a chance to talk to you, you turned around and walked to your car.

Back at the hotel room, you let out tears that had been hiding behind your eyes the entire time you were around Sam. Old wounds opened, and while you gave a brave face, you were crumpling and fast. You headed for the whiskey in your bag and drank it straight from the bottle. The burn hurt on the way down, but you hoped the effects would start soon. You changed out of your FBI gear into lounge clothes to do more research on these men. When you were about to open your laptop, you heard a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and made your way to open it. Sam.

“Can I come in?” He asked. You didn’t reply; you just opened the door for him. He walked in and stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. You set your gun down and folded your arms across your chest. Sam let out a breath and started talking.

“I know you are still pissed, hurt, sad, everything. I meant what I said. I don’t see her anymore. I haven’t had contact with her in weeks. There are many things I want to tell you that I’m going to tell you; I want to know if I still have a chance.” You looked at him like he was stupid.

“I left MONTHS ago. You only stopped seeing her WEEKS ago? You know that first month I was at Bobby’s? You know I didn’t tell him not to tell you where I was? You could have shown up any time you wanted to, Sam! You didn’t! Sure, you left messages on my phone, but let's be honest- you were still with HER! You still chose HER! Now you want to walk into my hotel room and ask if you have a chance when I haven’t seen you for months, and it’s only been a few weeks away from that demon? Do I look like a fucking convenience store to you? You want me back; you have to earn me back. That starts with no contact with her. That starts with you showing me you want to be with me.”  One tear left your eye while Sam just looked at you. He nodded his head and started to walk out of the room. Before he crossed over, he looked at you and said softly.

“I still love you.” You didn’t reply, and he walked back to his room. You shut the door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, letting out all the emotions you had been holding in for months.

A little while later, in your measurement time, about half a bottle later, another knock sounded at your door. You got up and stumbled over to your door, opening and seeing Dean. He looked at your state and softened his eyes but then tensed again.

“We need to talk.” That sobered you. You nodded your head and let him in. Dean walked in and turned to face you.

“Sam lied to you.” That is all he said. Your jaw clenched.

“What do you mean?”

“He is still seeing that demon; I’m pretty sure they are together now.”

Red. That is what you saw. In your lounge clothes and all, you grabbed your gun and knife; Dean already had the demon knife on him that Ruby gave the boys a while ago.

“Where the fuck is he?” You asked. Dean led you to Sam’s room. He stopped in front of it.

“Kick it down, Dean.” You spoke. Dean complied, and both of you rushed into the room—the sight before you ripped your heart out and disgusted you simultaneously. Ruby was on top of Sam, no shirt, just a black lace bra and panties. Sam only had boxers on, and he was drinking her blood. His mouth and cheeks had blood on them, and when you two busted through the door, they broke apart, and it was all over his mouth.

Sam’s eyes were wide that he had just been caught, and Ruby had that stupid ass smug smile on her face that you remember all too well. You felt your face heat us as you locked eyes with the demon bitch.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

[moonlightspencie]

bloodmoonlit

Description: Six years of friendship with more simmering beneath the surface. They thought they had no chance (but that’s romance).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: drinking (a lot of it tbh), both of em being massive dorks, 18+ pls bc it gets mildly spicy at the end

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: glitch is one of the best songs on midnights & nobody can convince me otherwise. anyways i didn’t proofread this sorry but i’m selfish

She was a hunter. He was… Also a hunter. Classic meet-cutes get a lot less cute when you’re meeting over the corpse of a wendigo.

Dean looked at her with awe and wonder after watching her use a flamethrower to take down a few wendigos that had started in on him. She lowered it like it was nothing after they stopped screeching into the night.

“Hey,” she greeted with a little smile. “You’re one of the Winchester boys, aren’t you?”

“Dean.”

“You’re like a modern-day folklore story, you know that?”

He chuckled, sure to make a comment about the flamethrower at the first chance. He got her number at the second chance.

They made fast friends at that point, both relentlessly flirting. Both never quite sure to what degree the other meant it.

Dean always found himself making trips towards wherever she was more often that what may be considered necessary. She never intentionally ran into him, but if she saw that impala roll up to a case, she always obliged her time. Especially if that meeting happened in a crowded bar where she could relish in the feeling of his attention being placed on her rather than anyone else who would immediately say yes to a night at his motel. Those green eyes sparkling as he chatted her up like they were the closest of friends.

Until they were the closest of friends, of course.

“How’s, uh…” Dean trailed, trying to think. “Was it Matthew?”

She snorted. “Didn’t last long.”

“Why not?”

“Never do,” she said curtly, sipping at her drink. “Non-hunter relationships don’t exactly work for me. They end up with too many questions too quick.”

He hummed, looking down at his own drink. She watched him for a moment, letting herself take a moment to admire the way neon lights bounced off his face. He always seemed to look extra pretty that way.

“Situationships,” she stated as a start, “That’s what pretty much everything I get into ends up as. Whatever works in the moment, no real strings.”

“And yet you always talk about wanting to be tied down,” he said with a smirk.

“Always is a big word,” she replied with a laugh. “I think someday I’d like that. Just don’t think it’s compatible with who I am right now.”

“You think you’re gonna change?”

“I’m always changing. That’s life, right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

She laughed.

“I’ve known you for a year, and even in that time you’ve gotten a little different.”

He quirked a brow. “How so?”

“Laugh a little less, but still seem a bit happier. More accepting of life as it is, I guess.”

He sat with that for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ve had to. Every time I get stubborn, I end up screwing everything up.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling him out of his own head before he dug too deep, “You’re always learning. Always growing. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He smiled softly, letting her words carry him out of that out. They tended to do that more and more as he faced everything the world threw at him. His affection slowly morphed into more, and he tried not to panic about it. He did what he always did best: buried it as deep as it could go.

She realized her own feelings shifting, but her realization slammed into her like a truck. They were supposed to be just friends.

It all started with little chance meetings which turned into weekly calls which turned into “Do you want to stay with Sam and I? We’ve got a permanent place now”.

She ended up moving in shortly after the boys did. Three years of knowing them, she never expected to be living with them. Especially after all they’d gone through.

Granted, she helped with some of it. She was there when they had to cram Sam’s soul back in his body. She was there for the rise and fall of Dick. She was there when Dean came back from Purgatory.

She just wasn’t constantly with them. Only a kind of side-character in their grand adventure. Now, however…

“I think that’s all,” she said, dropping a few bags on her bed.

“Oh, right, because this isn’t over-doing it at all,” Dean said, humor lacing his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back around the empty room.

“I just— I’m excited to feel at home. I haven’t had a real place in…” she stopped, sighing.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean spoke up, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “I was so excited to have my own bed, you have no clue.”

“I have some clue. You sent me like fifteen messages about it within the span of ten seconds,” she laughed.

“I love that memory foam, what can I say?”

“How about you get useful and help me set up shop here?” she asked, smiling at him as he already started pulling items out of the bags.

The bunker was like a hunter paradise in her eyes. She got the chance to have a place to call home. She got her own room, a million lore books, Dean, a place to do some baking, her favorite mug…

Wait. She couldn’t find her mug.

“Dean, where’d you put my mug?” she called out before he even got to the kitchen

“Stop calling me out before I’m even in the room. It’s creepy,” he said with a chuckle, walking in.

“Can’t help it. I know how you sound walkin’ around in here.”

She turned from the kitchen counter where the coffee was brewing. He watched her for a moment, smile still stuck in place.

“So?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “So…?”

She sighed. “My mug?”

“Oh,” he exclaimed, walking further towards her to open the fridge. “Made soup the other day and didn’t have any clean bowls.”

He pulled out the soup-filled mug, handing it in her direction. She quirked a brow, looking inside of it.

“I ain’t cleaning that out.”

He sighed dramatically, walking towards the sink.

“Guess I’ll do it. Princess can’t handle a few chunks of chicken in her precious mug.”

She smacked his arm lightly, scoffing.

“You’re the one who put chicken in it in the first place. You know that’s my favorite mug.”

He smirked, silently cleaning it out for her. When he was finished he turned, handing it off as he leaned against the counter.

“If my coffee is soup-flavored I’m going to have Cas smite you,” she mumbled, pouring it full.

She filled up another mug she’d pulled down in the meantime, sliding it to Dean.

“And yet, you still get me my coffee,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She hid a smile, shaking her head as she prepared hers.

“You know you love me,” he sang to her, heading towards the library.

She followed after, not even realizing what she was doing until she was halfway there. It was like they were attached at the hip.

They practically were over the following months, never not wanting to do everything together.

“Come on, Sam,” she whined. “You’re no fun.”

He smirked, attempting to leave the kitchen.

“Not all of us want to get plastered on a Tuesday night.”

“Speak for yourself” Dean said with a sparkle in his eye. He looked at Y/N. “You love getting screwed by me, right? Oh, sorry, with me.”

“Oh, yeah. My favorite activity, actually,” she said back with a smirk.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood.

“I think I’m about done listening to you two flirt, anyways.”

“Aww,” she started, leaning closer to where he stood. “You gettin’ jealous, Sammy?”

“I’m getting grossed out,” he laughed. “Goodnight.”

The two at the table said a quick goodnight, turning back to their drinks and their jokes in an instant.

“Maybe we just need to sweat it out,” he jokes, brows dancing suggestively.

She laughed. “In your dreams, Winchester. We’ve gone almost six years without a slip-up, do you really think now’s a good time to break that record?”

He contemplated for a moment, fully believing it was a good time to break it. He couldn’t think of a better time with the exception of five-and-a-half years ago. But, he decided to actually use his brain.

“Guess you’re right.”

She smiled, pretending not to be thinking about the fact that she definitely thought she was all wrong. She really though that he should have known better than anyone that she believed records were made to be broken.

“I’m always right.”

“Now you’re dreaming,” he said with a chuckle, tossing back the rest of his drink.

He poured two shots, sliding one to her.

“Here’s to almost six years— what, like, five years and ten months? Something like that?”

She nodded. “July 7th.”

He stilled a moment, not thinking about the fact that of course she would remember the day they met.

“How many days is that?”

She hummed, playing into his little game as she pulled out her phone. She typed away until she got her answer:

“2119 days if I did the math right.”

“Nineteen or ninety?”

“Nineteen.”

“What do you say we have a special celebration if we get to twenty one ninety, then?”

She snorted. “What do you constitute as special?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he winked, tossing back his shot.

She mirrored his actions, then quickly typed away again.

“What do you know? 2190 is exactly the six year mark,” she smirked. “Alright. Deal.”

Weeks passed, and life was shockingly normal in that time. Well, normal for their standards, which still included all the things that go bump in the night. After a particularly long hunt, getting back to the bunker was a relief.

All three of them went to their respective rooms to get some rest, but, as had become a pattern, Dean went knocking on Y/N’s door. She opened with a tired smile, inviting him in.

They sat around, talking about whatever topics came to mind, listening to music playing in the background. When conversation fell quiet, an idea struck her like lightening.

“Come on, Dean. A little dancing wouldn’t kill ya,” she said, moving a little to the music.

He laughed, watching her from her bed. She held out her hands, and finally took them after a few seconds. She could be very convincing, he thought.

They jumped around the room in an un-choreographed, ridiculous, messy dance that left both of them giggling and out of breath. Her music wasn’t always his style, but he sure didn’t mind listening to her sing every word with a passion as if she’d written them herself.

“See? You love this,” she exclaimed as the upbeat song faded out.

“Only because you’re making me,” he smiled.

She laughed again, starting to turn when a slow song started going. He didn’t let her get far, however, pulling her back into his chest by the hand. He played it off all nonchalant at first, ignoring the smile on her face as a bit he always liked to play anytime he started being affectionate in an unconventional way.

“Really?” she asked.

She reached up, fingertips brushing against his jaw so that he’d look at her again. He smiled softly when she did, just watching her for a few seconds.

“You wanted to dance. We’re dancing,” he said, swaying along to the melody.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smirked, not letting up in the dance. She gave in, resting her head against his shoulder as the music played. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her and letting the smell of her perfume lull him in the dance more than the song could. Her gentle humming put a smile on his face that he was grateful she couldn’t see: he was certain he’d look like a lovesick puppy.

As the song faded out, she finally pulled away enough to see him again, both of them still moving as another faded in. She looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes. He took in a slow breath, watching her face for a few moments, their movements slowing. He wanted to kiss her more than anything. So, he took an action:

“I’m gonna grab a drink.”

He untethered himself from her, quickly making an exit to leave her alone and deeply confused.

She sat in the library a few days later, reading a book she found on werewolf mating habits.

“What do ya got, there?” Sam asked, walking into the room.

She glanced up, a brow raised. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

Sam snorted. “Alright.”

“You need something?”

She closed the book, setting it down on the table.

“Yeah. Do you want to hang out? I just hooked up a new TV in my room.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “When?”

“I’m making popcorn right now.”

She laughed, agreeing as she got up. She got comfortable in his room, back against the headboard of his bed. He walked in a minute later, handing over the bowl of popcorn as he settled in.

“Is Dean coming?” she asked.

“No. He went out for the night.”

“Ah,” she said softly after a beat.

Sam straightened up, looking at her.

“He didn’t invite you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“He always does. Why not now?”

She sighed, settling into the cushions, still looking ahead.

“I think I freaked him out. We were in my room the other night, and I asked him to dance with me. He did, but then… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “After a couple songs he left fast and he’s definitely been pulling away from me since then.”

“Hey,” he called, grabbing her attention. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you isn’t worth your time. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Sammy,” she smiled, looking down again. “I just keep getting in my own head.”

“When aren’t you?” he joked.

“You jerk,” she said, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “I’m trying to be, like, open right now.”

“I know,” he drawled, leaning his head against hers.

She brushed a few pieces of his hair off her forehead.

“Maybe I just need to go out and have some fun myself,” she said after a moment.

He perked up.

“Dude, yeah!”

He stood abruptly, holding out his hands for her. She took them, standing slowly, and looking around the room for some stray confidence so that she wouldn’t back out.

“Tell you what,” Sam started, giving her the hope she wanted, “You go get ready, and we’ll head out together. I’ll be your wingman.”

She smiled. “That sounds great. I immediately wasn’t sure about heading off by myself.”

“I could tell,” he laughed.

She got ready in record time, putting on her favorite dress for good measure. They left the bunker, hitting a nearby bar that didn’t have an impala parked anywhere close.

“They’re just… giving me nothing,” she said with a sigh, slumping in the seat next to Sam at the bar.

“What do you mean? That last guy looked really into it.”

“He was. He was also into talking about his ex-girlfriend within the first few minutes of conversation,” she snorted. “I think I’m asking too much. I should just find someone and make out with ‘em.”

“You sure about that?”

She looked at Sam again, a smile breaking out.

“No. But if we do another shot, I might be.”

He sighed, obliging her only because he knew she’d do it without him anyways. They threw back the shots, and he wished her luck as she went off in search of someone who wanted nothing but a good time.

Well, kind of a good time. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to take some dude home.

She went onto the dance-floor, deciding she’d let someone come to her rather than prowling for herself, and got her wish pretty fast. A moderately attractive man caught her hand as she swayed around by herself, asking for a dance. She plastered on a smile as she agreed, letting him take the lead.

“What’s your name?” he asked over the music.

“Do you really want to know?” she teased.

He smirked. “Guess it’s more fun not to know, huh?”

She smiled again, pulling him down to her lips as they moved to the music. She closed her eyes, appreciating the ease at which she got what she wanted. The only problem is that she couldn’t help imagining it was Dean instead of Unnamed Bar-Goer.

Regardless, she justified that they were merely using each other, so who cares if she let her mind run a little wild?

She only backed away when he started getting a little handsy for her tastes. She thanked him for his time, walking away and back to Sam. He raised his brows when she came back.

“Hey, looks like you got it,” he said, watching her sit. “Also looks like you aren’t too happy.”

“Still giving me absolutely nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Not a damn thing.”

He chuckled. “Maybe this plan didn’t work out so well.”

“Still got to drink with my favorite giant,” she noted with a wink and nudge.

“Ha ha. Real flattering, thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, but let himself smirk when she wasn’t paying much attention. They sat talking at the bar for another hour or so before Sam decided to call it a night. She linked an arm around Sam’s as they walked out of the bar, definitely a little more drunk than she intended to get.

Dean walked into the bunker, spirits effectively dampened. His attempt to get his mind off of his I-almost-kissed-her moment didn’t work in the slightest, and now he was in a sour mood as a result.

His mood only worsened when he saw Sam and Y/N stumbling into the kitchen, the latter a drunken mess in an outfit he liked a little too much. He watched as Sam helped her into the room, practically propping her up against the counter.

“What the hell?” Dean asked as his brother got a glass from the cupboard.

“What?” Sam defended, filling up the cup with water.

“For one, why is she laughing at herself against the kitchen counter?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We went out.”

He walked over to Y/N, handing her the glass. She sipped at the water, then set it down just as quickly.

“Done,” she cheered.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said, picking up the water and giving it right back to her. “Come on, you’re going to be hungover tomorrow.”

She refused the drink, kicking off her shoes. Then, she turned to level her gaze at Dean as he sipped on a beer.

“And where did you go run off to?”

He raised his brows. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” she stated with finality.

“Out.”

“Get lucky?” she asked, more bitterness in her tone than she meant to let out.

“No.”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced at Sam again.

“Wanna go hang out and read? I found a book about how werewolves get it on,” she said, giggling as she ended the sentence.

“What?”

Dean spoke up again. “Since when do you go out and get drunk without a reason?”

She snapped back to him. “Since I was celebrating me. I’m done chasing after guys who don’t want— What was it, Sam? Like if they don’t appreciate me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked back, setting down his drink.

“Sammy, I wanna talk to Dean by myself,” she managed to say, hardly looking at him.

“I don’t know—”

“Sam,” she cut him off, watching him.

He put his hands up in defense, walking out of the room. She watched until he left, then looked at Dean again. He glanced sideways at her as she swayed slightly while she stood.

“You know, those six years are coming up real soon, De,” she said, staring from across the counter.

“Are they?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“Mhm. One more week I think,” she hiccuped. “Sorry.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re drunk.”

“I tried kissing someone today,” she said, words tumbling out fast like she couldn’t control them. “I hated it.”

He paused, unsure why she was saying this. His heart hurt more than he thought it would, hearing her admit that.

“Why?” was all he could manage.

“Why’d you go out without me?” she countered. “You never go out without me, not since we met.”

He sighed, eyes closing as he braced himself against the counter. He heard her as she got closer, eventually leaning her head against his arm.

“I’m glad you didn’t go home with anyone today.”

He swallowed, unable to look at her. “Yeah. I— I was gonna try, to be honest, but…”

“I’m gonna throw up,” she said, suddenly moving to the sink.

He followed after swiftly, helping her as best as he could. He pulled her hair back gently as she emptied her stomach into the kitchen sink.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing her back with the hand that wasn’t holding her hair. “Get it all out.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, sniffling.

“I’ve seen you worse,” he said with a smirk. “That upset about what I said?”

If she had been a touch more sober, she might have realized he was joking. Unfortunately, she took it completely literally.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought about you and some—”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, I wasn’t—” he paused as she stood again, running the sink to clear it out. He turned it off again, impatient. “What are you talking about?”

“What?”

He watched her as she straightened herself out, pulling down the skirt of the dress she was in where it had ridden up.

“You threw up over me mentioning—”

“Dean.”

“Why?”

She sighed, leaning down to rest her head on the counter.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You kissed someone. I didn’t even get that far.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, standing again, and nearly falling over.

He caught her gently, but kept his hard tone as he responded to her.

“Why do you?”

“Because I just do, Dean.”

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault anyways.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.

“It’s your fault,” she said, punctuating the phrase with a slap to his chest.

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

“You should’ve just kissed me instead of chickening out and running away like a little boy.”

He was stunned into silence, his anger dissipating and then quickly returning.

“If you hadn’t made me dance with you, I wouldn’t have been all in your face in the first place,” he shot back.

“You’re such a dick,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Six years of not chasing anyone but you, and for what? You’re acting like a bitch.”

“Well, jokes on you, sweetheart,” he exclaimed, opening up his arms. “Hasn’t even been six years.”

“Great! Let’s hope we never get there, then!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not the one who ran off to get a hookup because I couldn’t handle my feelings.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you just ran off to make out with someone because you couldn’t handle your feelings.”

“Why do you feel the need to make everything so difficult?”

“Because you’re the most difficult person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raising to an octave you didn’t often hear. “How else am I supposed to deal with you?”

She groaned in frustration, pushing past him to leave. She stalked out of the kitchen, only making it so far as the hallway before she was getting pulled back.

“Stop it, Dean,” she all but yelled.

He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. One hand found her face, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to how intense the kiss was. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath, a smile on her face as he finally gave in. He pulled back a moment later, though not without an internal struggle.

“The douchebag at the bar kiss you like that?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Not exactly,” she sighed. “What took you so long?”

“You weren’t making moves either, loser,” he said with a laugh.

“You didn’t exactly make yourself out to be available, De.”

“And you did? You literally told me I wouldn’t get you in my wildest dreams a few weeks ago.”

She paused, a smile spreading to her face.

“Touché.”

“How about now?”

She quirked a brow. “You propositioning me, Winchester?”

“If I was, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say that I think there must be some technical malfunctions in the universe for me to get that lucky.”

He smirked, slowly backing her until she was pressed against the wall.

“Early celebration?”

“Only if we still celebrate when we hit twenty one ninety,” she said with a smile. “Gotta safeguard, here. Easier for me to make sure this doesn’t become a one-time thing.”

“You think I’d be able to stop after one time? It’s you,” he said, moving in closer. Her arms wound around his neck. “I’ve been holding out for six years.”

“Not quite.”

“Mm. Close enough.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time slow and soft. She kissed back, glad to finally know what his lips felt like against hers. He let his hands wander, holding to her hips and sliding down further.

“You look real pretty in this dress,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Was hoping you’d see it and like it,” she smiled, nipping at his lip. “Just don’t rip it if you decide to take it off me.”

He smiled against her as he leaned back in. He kissed her, deepening it immediately as one hand dragged down her leg. He slotted his own thigh between her legs, adding a little friction that had her gasping into his mouth. He started hiking up the skirt of the dress further. Slowly, purposely teasing her with it. Teasing himself just as much.

Then, heavy footsteps started coming down the hall. They separated quickly and ducked inside the kitchen, hoping Sam would walk past. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Dean stood behind Y/N quickly, concealing a problem he didn’t exactly have time to fix.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, seemingly not noticing a thing. “I didn’t hear yelling coming down and needed a drink. You two all good?”

She nodded. “Great.”

“Awesome,” Dean said at the same time.

Sam nodded, giving a tight smile as he walked past.

“We were actually about to head to bed, so…” she said, looking at him as he stood at the fridge.

“Okay,” he nodded, nonchalant. “Night.”

“Night.”

Dean waved a quick goodbye, following after her quickly. They broke into his room, giggling like a couple of drunk toddlers.

“He didn’t hear yelling,” Dean said, closing in on her once the door was shut.

She reached for his belt, quickly undoing it as they got closer to the bed.

“He didn’t.”

He grabbed her by the waist, tossing her down on the mattress, slowly climbing on top of her.

“Wanna test and see if the walls in here are just as soundproof?”

She looked up at him as he finally tugged her dress up around her hips.

“I love a good experiment.”

She laid back in the early morning hours, not even bringing herself to be annoyed that she was being suffocated by a large man on top of her. Mostly because if Dean killed her that way, it certainly would suck, but what a way to go.

She sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he rested against her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually woke up with the sweetest sleepy smile point at her.

“Hey,” he said, adjusting himself to see her better.

“Hey,” she greeted, accepting a soft kiss. “I think we should’ve done that forever ago.”

“I don’t know. Might be like a wine situation. We let it sit so long that it got even better by the time we actually got some.”

“Very poetic.”

He smiled, a hand coming to rest on her side as he kissed her again. It was slow and lazy and altogether too sweet. She was almost embarrassed that she had to be there to witness how mushy that moment was, if not for the fact that she was on the receiving end of the mush. She pulled away from him first, leaving him to whine.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said in a whisper. “Whining?”

“You were doing plenty of that last night,” he smirked.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Why don’t we get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

His hand started moving downward, inching up the shirt of his that she was wearing.

“I could eat.”

“Dean,” she warned.

He started scooting down the mattress slowly, not giving up.

“Come on. Kitchen.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Cut it out,” she laughed. “Kitchen for actual breakfast. I don’t waste time when it comes to breakfast.”

They made it to the kitchen for that breakfast successfully! Twenty minutes later, anyway.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, not looking up.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said, going straight towards the cabinets for cereal.

She realized suddenly that there may have been something she forgot in his room.

“Is that Dean’s shirt?” Sam asked.

She looked down, realizing that it was clothes she had forgotten. Sam paused, raising a hand.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know. Glad to know you’re at least not fighting. Just— Maybe some pants next time.”

She laughed, following Dean to the table as he set down two bowls of cereal. They all sat eating in a comfortable silence. Then a slightly less comfortable silence as Dean grabbed her thigh halfway through breakfast. Sam quickly excused himself after that, a knowing smile on his face as he left.

“So… We’re in the kitchen,” Dean said, leaning towards her. “I don’t think Sammy’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

After definitely not doing anything weird in the kitchen and then totally not feeling bad and scrubbing down the entire room for the day, things fell into a new rhythm. It was comfortable and surprisingly less of an adjustment than they were expecting. All of those years of relentless flirting must’ve made for an easy transition.

Dean cleared his throat a few days later, grabbing her attention as she lounged in the room he’d set aside for TV-watching (with the fun new addition of a couch).

“Yeah?” she asked, looking away from the screen to see him.

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“2190 days.”

She smiled. “Yeah? Is that today?”

He hummed, giving a nod.

“What were those special plans of yours?”

He raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

She merely nodded. He paused the show they were watching.

“I, uh— I was gonna tell you how I felt if I didn’t chicken out.”

“You’re kidding,” she replied after a beat.

“I’m not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Man. Almost twenty two hundred days of a blackout before we finally lit it up, huh?”

He laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She paused, turning to put her feet in his lap. He immediately, started rubbing her leg, enjoying the uninhibited ability to touch her.

“Wanna know something funny?”

He raised a brow in question.

“Years ago someone told me they knew we’d end up together.”

“Who? Bobby?”

She shook her head. “Garth.”

He rolled his eyes as she laughed, poking him in the arm a moment later.

“Got to give it to him, he’s always been perceptive,” she noted.

“Guess so,” he nodded, reluctant to admit it. “Freakin’ Garth.”

She watched him a moment, then retracted her legs. He looked at her, almost hurt with those big puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Don’t worry, I’m comin’ closer.”

She crawled over to him, settling in his lap. He ran his hands up her legs, a small smile returning to his lips.

“I can think of a few other ways we can celebrate today, you know?”

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning into the cushions.

“Five words: apple pie in the freezer.”

“Oh, baby, you know how to talk dirty to me,” he groaned, pulling her down for a kiss in a fit of laughter.

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

—————

dean winchester taglist:

@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby

[sweetvamp03]

Selfish Reasons

Warnings - nsfw 18+ - smut - not much plot/no use of y/n - needy!sam - fingering - masturbation - piv - unprotected sex

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Word count - 908

Summary - you've been away on a solo hunt for just a week, but to Sam it felt like months. When you arrive back at the bunker you are greet3d by an eager, floppy haired boy.

It had been a long week full of a few too many vampires. You were eager to hop right into bed and drift into a peaceful slumber for a day or two. Around 2 am you arrived home at the bunker, knowing everyone else was asleep by now, you crept around like a burglar trying not to make so much as a creak. You snuck down the hallway to your bedroom door, inching it open, trying to avoid the squeak you had meant to fix. To your surprise, Sam was wide awake in bed, book in hand, no shirt in sight. "Hey Baby, what are you doing up?" you whispered to him. He set his novel down to reply, "Just waiting up for you, wanted to make sure you got home safe".

"You know you don't have to do that, I'm pretty good at staying alive y'know" you joked with him. "Okay, well maybe I had some selfish reasons to stay up until you got back-" he paused to look you up and down as you started to peel your heavy clothing off one piece at a time. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle, "Really Sam? You're that predictable? We just had phone sex this morning, and I sent you plenty of pictures you could use. What is it, just not as good as the real deal?" you teased him, you knew he was a little slut for your pussy. "Nothing beats you in the flesh baby, you know that," he grimaced and pulled you down onto the bed with him. "Hm, baby wants me, huh? How do you want me? I'm all yours." you couldn't help but be turned on by him, I mean he's Sam fucking Winchester.

"Will you play with yourself for me? Please, honey, I love to watch you fuck your own cunt, you look so beautiful." he was practically begging you by this point. You had already stripped down to just your bra and panties, pushing him back onto the bed, you straddled his lap and laid back, knees in the air. He liked you on your back, he got a better view that way. He propped back up against the headboard and watched as you started in on yourself. You trailed two fingers along your folds before placing them deep into your heat. After a little while, your clit was starting to feel left out. Using the calloused pads of your fingertips, you rubbed slow circles around that perfect spot. You tilted your head up a bit to take a peek at Sam, his cock barely still held by his briefs, precum slipping through the fabric. You knew he wouldn't touch himself until you were taken care of. Speeding up, you felt the band in your lower stomach tighten, getting closer and closer to release, when all of a sudden, somebody grabbed your hand away, leaving you irritated. Sam had gotten hold of you, and was licking your fingers clean, then used his own to dig into each of your thighs, spreading them far enough apart that he could get his head between them. He started licking up the wetness, running his tongue down every fold. Suckling at your clit, he moved at an impossible speed, one that might challenge your vibrator. Legs shaking, you could feel it rising inside you, ready to flow over like a wave, "gonna- cum-" you managed to breathe out. With a few more vigorous licks, you were riding that wave, and he kept a steady pace til you came down. Your hands still tangled in his dark hair, you fell back and tried to catch your breath. "You're so good, baby, cumming for me like that- it's almost enough to make me cum just from the sight of it" he panted at you. A huge grin spread across your face.

Sitting up, you pushed Sam back down onto the bed where he once was. It was only fair that he got something too. Your tongue invaded his mouth before he could say a word, your hands busy dealing with his underwear. His throbbing member sprung free, tip red and dripping. You began tracing his shaft, then gently circling the end with your fingertip, making him groan underneath you. He didn't like it when it was only him receiving, he liked to make it equal, and him eating you out was just as good for him as it was for you. Hands sliding up to yours, he removed them from his cock. He steadied your hips and lifted you right on top of him so you were merged as one. You rode him as he guided you, both of you unable to keep from moaning. "Fuck baby- you're so tight- my gorgeous girl" he smiled as you sped up your movements. As you reached your limit, you could feel him filling you up. "Fuckkk-" you spilled out. Both of you needed a minute to catch your breath after that, you sat there, still connected, simply breathing in sync, running your hands over each other's skin. Sitting up, Sam pressed his lips to yours, mumbling, "God you're perfect".

Detaching yourself from one another, you settled into bed, pulling the covers up and getting close. Head pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around you, this was the way you fell asleep every night. Well, at least every night you were together.

[hoziersmilligan]

“you’re asking me to trust you. you who doomed me, you who let lucifer walk free while your own brother sat in hell.”

i think it’s so important to look at how michael structures this sentence. he’s viscerally upset with the winchesters while saying this, one of the only times we see michael show true emotion. but, it doesn’t read as if he’s too upset over himself.

all michael says about himself is that he was “doomed” by the winchesters, which, in some accounts, does not fully express how much michael has gone through the past 1200 years. it's not putting much focus on michael's own suffering. sure, this could be because of michael’s tendency and lack of knowledge on how to care for himself emotionally due to how he was raised. sure, this could be said out of some form of guilt, knowing that he also caused pain to the winchesters and knows that he, in some ways, doomed himself. all of that could be true, is likely true, but it doesn’t account for the second half of the sentence.

“you who let lucifer walk free while your own brother sat in hell” not only does michael describe adam’s imprisonment much more personally, much more human like (possibly because he only knows humanity through adam… thought for a different post) but he deliberately compares the winchesters’ hypocrisy with how they treated lucifer compared to adam. in michael’s mind, michael being doomed is an after thought, but adam, adam, being left behind while lucifer of all people got to walk free? complete lunacy.

michael got extremely familiar with three things in the cage. one, himself. he self-reflected, he experienced guilt and grief and hope. the years in the cage were the first time michael was able to stop and consider that he, too, was created. two, he got familiar with the evilness of lucifer. being locked so closely to his brother, watching him tear sam into shreds, fighting with him for years on end. michael knew his brother was a monster, but in the cage he became overwhelming familiar with what his brother had turned into. and the third thing michael became in tune with was adam’s humanity and goodness. michael had never been near any human before adam. michael likely had preconceived notions about humanity, ones passed down by many angels. that they are selfish, cruel creatures who have been fooled since the beginning. and michael discovers that that’s true in adam, in humanity. that selfishness and occasionally cruelty are an integral part of being human, but so are decency and sympathy. humans are no one-sided creature, they have infinite layers to peel open and explore. humans are intensely complex, and it shows michael that he, too, is complex. from adam milligan’s favorite song to his choice to become a doctor, to his distant relationship with his father to the despair he feels over his mother’s death. adam milligan, who is all of humanity to michael, is nothing if not surprising. and he is good. he is the foil to the monster that is his brother.

so, in michael’s eyes, how dare dean and sam leave adam milligan in hell with two creatures like lucifer and michael? adam milligan is too precious, too sturdy, to let him get broken down by two failed archangels.

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 3

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1418

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but it's finally here! You and Dean finally meet, and the world you've just settled into threatens to give in // Dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like this one Xx

⇤ PART 2

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

From the moment you had left Ellen's bar, you had felt a unique kind of dread, the emptiness in your heart widening with each step you took away from the person you had destined to be with. 

But it is the best for both of you, that you are sure of. 

You don't hesitate to admit that you are selfish to try to save yourself from prospective heartbreak or have the possibility of going through what your mother had gone through, especially when you now knew that he was a hunter as well. 

"Morning, Y/N." Chris mutters with a quick kiss to your neck as he hugs you from behind. 

"Good morning." You smile as you turn and close the gap between your lips. You were making coffee after getting up from the bed you share with Chris, and this has become a new normal for you. 

It has been a couple of weeks since you landed in the small town of New Harmony, Indiana.

Excluding a few aches, cuts and bruises that aren't visible or have a cause, you have had no interactions with the supernatural - willingly keeping off from reading news or watching it on the TV.

You know your intuitions won’t help pick off the signs of those activities in the world, you're just going to ignore it.

Well, you did investigate Old Neil's Cabin, and having found that he hasn't hurt anyone yet, you let him be - but not before making a note on where he is buried. 

It's a simple start to the day as it has been for a while now, and for some reason, there remains a feeling that something is wrong - or better yet, something is missing.

Still, as you help around Chris’ family diner and motel, there remains the familiar signs of adrenalin rush that you know come from hunting, even when you’re doing something as mundane as getting a plate of fries to the customers.

There is random quickening of your heartbeat, and the dreams of his green eyes, when you’ve only seen them once.

So in this quaint little town, the sun dips below the horizon once more, casting a warm glow across the streets. Your break from the hunting life gave you a little bit of solace in this peaceful corner of the world. The semblance of normalcy feels like a weird sense of relief.

And today, it just seems like it will be happier than many before.

Meanwhile, Dean Winchester, the ever-determined hunter, was on the road once again with Sam beside him. This time, he is a little serious - with the short time frame of his inevitable death hanging over his head. 

But he is happy today, it's his birthday today, and Sam got him a box of little things, from his favorite aftershave to a smart-looking watch.

He feels a little guilty while thanking him because he doesn't trust him enough to keep a secret from Ruby, he hasn’t told his brother about his soulmate yet. 

He doesn’t want to know what limits the demons will test with someone they can hurt him with, even without getting a hold of him.

“I’m hungry.” Sam complains while reading a newspaper. 

“I’ll pull up to the next diner I see.” Dean says. “Besides, it's been too long since I got a belly full of something cheesy.”

“You had a lunch full of cholesterol yesterday, Dean.” Sam reprimands him with a shake of his head.

Dean’s stomach rumbles just in time as a reply to Sam’s comment. “Let’s find some food in this town.”

Some time later, they come across a diner, and Dean wastes no time hauling up next to it. The bell above the door tinkles as they enter.

“Finally.” Dean mutters, glancing around the diner. It isn't overly crowded, probably just a few locals scattered across the booths. He spots an empty seat by the window and starts walking towards it, Sam following closely.

As Dean studies the menu, Sam leans across the table. “You know, man, you’ve been acting a bit weird lately. Anything you wanna talk about?”

Dean sighs, trying to avoid this conversation. “Not today.” And with efforts to do so, he averts his eyes, flitting them across the diner.

But then, his eyes lock onto a waitress, her seeming oddly recognizable. He swallows hard, torn between his instinct to approach and the fear of her reaction.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulls him from his trance. “You okay?”

He shakes his head, plastering on a faint smile to mask his nervousness. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Sam comments.

You smile at Ellie as you get her order, a usual patron of the diner. You feel unusually happy today, and while you don’t know the reason why, you don't want to jinx it and so you just go on about your day.

Then your heart starts beating rapidly again, but the palpitations aren’t what you are used to.

You turn with furrowed eyebrows and closed eyes. When you open them, they find green ones - to be more precise, those from your dreams.

Time stands still, and recognition flashes between you two - a connection stronger than memory, a bond forged through shared emotions. Your breath hitches, your soulmate is sitting right in front of you.

You don’t know what to do, and while your heart wants to stay, your brain decides to run away. And so, you hurry through the side door of the diner.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean announces and rushes right after you, leaving Sam with no second thought.

You’re there, standing against the wall under the streetlamp in the back alley, your hand against your chest. The night falls, and you look like an angel glowing in the yellow light.

When your eyes join, your hearts start thumping in a turbo-mode and neither of you know if it's because of the bond or due to the other's presence.

“Hi.” Dean whispers, not knowing what else to say.

“Hello,” You whisper back, not wanting to break the bubble that has formed around the two of you.

The traffic from the main road has quietened down, as has the chatter from the busy diner, and all you’re aware of is this beautiful specimen of a man, and your conniving heart which has finally won against your brain.

“How are you?” Dean wants to hit himself just as the words leave his mouth. But then again, what are you supposed to say to your soulmate when you come face to face for the first time?

“I’m good. What about you?” You ask, a smile appearing on his face that you cannot help but match him. And my god, the crinkles that frame his eyes.

“I guess I’m good too - now that I met you.” Both of you laugh, and when your heart finally allows your brain to speak, you start drowning in anxiety, leaving you speechless again.

Everything that you’ve been running from, everything you left behind and everything that you’re up against is on his feet, just a few feet in front of you. Your soulmate.

While it feels like it has been decades, it has been only minutes.

Before you can conjure up a sentence, the side doors open with a thud - and Chris appears, looking tense.

“Everything all right here, Y/N?” Chris asks, staring at Dean as if to determine if there are any signs of aggression, and then settling on you to ensure that you’re fine. “Ellie told me to check up on you.”

His posture straight and hands in a fist, almost like he’s getting ready to fight, fight for you. 

The men stand tall with chests puffed, nearly similar in height as they both try to intimidate each other.

You nod, hoping to calm him. “It’s okay, Chris, this is -” you stop there, not knowing his name.

“Dean,” the man completes. You sheepishly smile at him before turning to Chris.

“Chris, this is Dean, my… My soulmate.” Saying it leaves an unnatural taste in your mouth,

You see his features turn from hostility into those of apprehension as he replies, his eyes narrowed. “I see…”

“Please give me a few minutes, Chris, I’ll come find you.” He gives you one final look, asking indirectly if you’re sure, and you nod with reassurance before he leaves.

“So Y/N, is it?” Dean asks, and you bite your lip.

“Yup. I guess we have a lot to talk about.” 

Part 4 (Coming Soon on Tumblr/ Read it on BuyMeACoffee Now!)

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I just started a BuyMeACoffee Page where you can read Chapter 4 right now! Its kind of an emotional one where you have a difficult conversation which will determine where you will go from here.

My BMAC Page also has the first chapter of a new Dean Winchester X Reader story with the following summary: Best friends Dean and Y/N navigate a world of supernatural challenges and unspoken feelings. Sam, the ever observant brother, and Cas, the ever puzzled angel of the lord, discreetly encourage their romance through late-night talks, teasing, and shared hunts. As tension builds and emotions simmer beneath the surface, their journey unfolds through this story.

READ IT HERE- SECRETS OF A HUNTER'S HEART

Find out what else I offer on my buymeacoffee page - HERE

It's okay if you can't support me monetory-wise right now, even reblogging my fics help a lot!

Tags in reblog, either comment or reblog this fic if you wanna be tagged in the next part Xx

Thank you so much for your support ♥

Yours Truly,

Vee 💕

[ninii-winchester]

Revived (Final)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.3k

Warnings : mentions of medical aid, potential spoilers s9, mark of cain mentioned, fluff(?)

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean's hand shook as he carried Y/n inside the motel room. Sam quickly fetched the medical kit and rushed to her side. Laying her down on one of the beds, Dean carefully teared apart the hole which was caused by the blade stab, giving Sam more room to stitch her thigh.

After her wound was closed and bandaged Dean helped her with a glass of water, encouraging her to take small sips. After the small cuts on her face were cleaned too, the room fell into a uncomfortable silence. Dean's gaze was hard as he stared at her, now that the anxiety rush of her being in danger passed, he's furious. The demon's word came crashing back into him. For a minute he could've let it go, given demons lie all the time. But Crowley's appearance had nailed down the last bit of uncertainty he had.

Y/n had actually sold her soul.

Sam paced the room, unable to wrap his head around the events of last few hours. This was supposed to be a normal hunt, no different from any other one they've ever been on, never in his entire life he could've expected this outcome of a supposed hunt.

Y/n's heart was beating rapidly, she could feel it against her ribcage, as if it would jump out of her mouth any second. She knew what she had done and she knew she'd have to deal with the consequences of her actions but it never occurred to her, that it would come hit her sooner than she has expected. The look on both brothers face told her that neither of them were pleased with her decision. She decided its time she bites the bullet and get this over with.

"Say it." She whispered lowly. None of the boys spoke for a whole minute before Sam spoke,

"Why'd you do it?" He questioned, "Rowena said she can bring him back."

"She told me she couldn't do it. She lied because I told her to." She replied avoiding eye contact with either brother. "She said it's not a hex or curse so cannot undo it, Dean died because he hit his head."

"You told me not to do it and you go ahead and do the exact same thing!" Sam exclaimed while Dean continued to watch them silently. When she didn't reply Sam shook his head slumping down on a chair. She took a deep breath before answering,

"You two have been dancing this dance for so long. I knew Dean would be pissed if he found out you sold your soul. I just wanted him back, is it so wrong?" She said her voice getting louder.

"And you think I wouldn't be pissed if it were you?" Dean finally spoke.

"It doesn't matter. I did what I wanted to. You're not the boss of me." She replied crossing her arms across her chest.

"I.." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose before he spoke again, "this isn't about being anyone's boss, how could you be so stupid?" He snapped stepping closer to her bed. Sam felt the tension rising in the room so he quietly slipped out of the room.

"Call me stupid, reckless or careless. Truth is I am selfish." She yelled, tears welling up in her eyes. Dean recoiled a bit at that. "I am selfish, I don't want to live in world where there is no Dean Winchester. I would do it over and over again if it means that you survive." Her voice turned low as she looked away, her lip quivering as she tried to keep herself from crying her wits out.

Dean hadn't expected her to express herself so openly, he knew the two of them confessed to being in love with each other but he never guessed the intensity of her love for him. He took a cautious step towards her and sat beside her on the bed.

"Hey, look at me." Dean spoke as softly as he could. "I understand your feelings but sacrificing your life for me isn't what I want from anyone, not you, not Sammy or anyone else." He cupped her cheek in his hand.

"Dean, I got fifteen years before the sacrifice comes into play. And I'm a hunter, who's to say I was going to live a long life. I'm happy to give my life as long as I get to spend it with you, or whatever's left of it."

"Hell ain't no field trip, sweetheart. I don't want you to go through all that pain."

"We'll think about it when we get there. One day at a time?"

Dean sighed knowing there's no way out it. He would never be able to convince her to undo it. For him, fifteen years is too less to spend with her, but it's enough for him to get here out this mess. And he swore on everything he loves, he will get her out of this mess.

Dean has never considered himself lucky, if anything he's always thought that fate was out there to get him. To fuck him up in more ways than one, but this time, he felt the cards were stacked in his favour.

Dean and Crowley went to see Cain, they decided to team up to take down Abbadon. Cain was nonchalant about the demons attacking them while Dean fought vigorously. Crowley dealt with some other demons and came to where Dean and Cain were.

"If you want I can give you the mark Dean," Cain spoke with urgency. "With the mark and the First Blade, you can take care of Abbadon."

Dean looked at Crowley, who seemed like he was ready to beg on his knees for him to do it. But Dean didn't want him to beg, his gaze turned demanding.

"Her soul." Was the only thing he said.

Cain looked back and forth between the Winchester and The king of Hell. Crowley rolled his eyes but brought up a piece of paper and burned it.

"Your girl's soul is her own now." Crowley spoke, not happy about giving it back but he had bigger problems at hand.

Cain raised a brow at Crowley's words and he added, "you're much more like me than I thought." He said remembering how he left all the Hell business behind for his Colette. Dean nodded towards Cain's mark and the man transferred the mark to Dean.

"Are you fucking insane?" Was the first thing Y/n yelled as soon as she saw the Mark on Dean's arm.

"Insanely in love with you, yes." He replied plopping on the chair, taking a swig of his beer.

"Not funny, Dean. What did you do!?" She exclaimed observing his arm.

"Wasn't trying to be funny, sweetheart. Crowley had your soul and he gave it back in exchange of me ganking that Abbadon bitch." Dean said nonchalantly and it angered her to no end.

"You're talking as if you just bought groceries Dean, what the hell is wrong with you? That Mark is evil, it'll turn you into a monster." Dean stood up from his chair and walked over to her.

"I have you to keep me grounded. And I'd rather be a monster than let you go to hell. This discussion is over." He pecked her lips before walking away.

That discussion was far from over but Dean made sure it was never brought up ever again. It was hard time for Y/n when Dean became a demon. It took Y/n and Sam a lot of blood, sweat and tears to bring him back but they did it.

“Can we please promise no more bargains with demons?” Y/n sighed into Dean’s chest as he held her tightly in his embrace.

“It’s a deal.” She looked at him with an incredulous look and he winked at her. She sighed dropping her forehead on his chest. He’s a cheeky bastard but he’s her cheeky bastard. And she wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Tags:

@galway-girlatwork

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (4)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, implied break-up, angry Sam, Mary bashing

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (3)

“Sammy, I can’t just go to her hotel and ask her to forgive me or take me back,” Dean mutters under his breath. Sam talked him into confronting Mary and to talk to you before you got the chance to fly back home.

“Dean, this is your only chance. We will talk to mother and ask her if she has anything to do with the missing note. After we clarified that our mother is the worst,” Sam snorts at Dean’s pained expression. “What? We both know our parents are the perfect example of a failed marriage and selfishness.”

“Do you honestly believe Mother had something to do with the missing note?” Dean asks. He still doesn’t want to believe his mother would do such a thing.

“Yes, I believe she is behind all of this. Mother invited Lisa, and she distracted you. Hell, she even refused to acknowledge Y/N’s presence.” Sam throws his hands up. “Wake up. Our mother is a manipulative mastermind.”

“I’m going to ask you this only once, Mother,” Sam stalks toward his mother. He straightens his back and tries to look even more intimating as he dwarfs his mother. “Did you steal the note Y/N left that night eight years ago? Yes or no.”

“Samuel, where is this coming from out of a sudden? How dare you come here to attack your own flesh and blood like that,” Mary sniffles. “I can’t believe my son talks like that to me.”

“I guess this means yes, Dean.”

“Mother, what did the note say?” Dean pleadingly looks at his mother. “I know you wanted me to get back together with Lisa, but please, I need to know if you took the note Y/N left.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she snaps at her son. “If you’d excuse me now. I got better things to do than letting my sons walk all over me.”

“Stop!” Sam blocks his mother’s path when she tries to leave the room. “You will answer Dean’s question. I know you don’t care that you ruined his relationship with Y/N and that he lost the woman he loved that night. But I will not let you ruin the one chance he got with Y/N.”

“Samuel,” she sniffs and wipes a fake tear off her cheek. “I didn’t take a note. I saw the ring, that’s all.”

“So, you admit that you entered their room that night,” Sam takes a step toward his mother and another. “Answer my question. Did you enter their room and take the note.” He gets louder with every word. “YES OR NO MOTHER!”

“YES!” She sneers. “I never liked that woman. She was no good for your brother. I invited Lisa to make him see what he was missing out. I took the note and left the ring. It was for the best.”

“What did she write?” Dean asks again. “I need to know.”

“I don’t remember,” she shrugs. “I burned the note, and that’s the end of the story. You should thank me.”

“You are dead to me,” Dean shakes his head when Mary tries to touch his arm. “You ruined the best thing ever happening to me. I can’t believe I was too blind to see that you’re a manipulative bitch.”

Dean turns on his heels and storms out of the house. He gets into his car to drive toward your hotel, forgetting about his brother and his hurt pride. He’ll try to get you back. No matter what.”

“Now that Dean is gone,” Sam’s voice is dangerously low as he leans closer. “You will tell me what she wrote. If not, I’ll make sure John will hear about your dirty little secret.” He smirks darkly when his mother whimpers. “The pool boy…”

Dean didn’t make it in time. When he arrived at your hotel, you already checked out. He drove as fast as possible, pushing his beloved car to its limit, but it was no use. 

The airplane was in the air, and you were gone. Once again, he came too late…

“Mommy!” Your son runs toward you, giggling and laughing when you pick him up and twirl him around. “How was your flight? Did you get me something cool?”

“I got you something cool,” you whisper and peck his hair. “Look inside my back, baby. You’ll love it. Uncle Bobby got it for you.”

“Cool,” your son opens your bag to find another classic car model. It’s a 1967er Impala. A split-image of Dean’s car. The one your son wanted since he found an old picture of Dean and his car. “I love it, mommy.”

“I know baby,” you run your hand over his hair. You sigh but shake the sadness off. Seeing Dean after so many years hurt you more than you thought possible. “Let’s have dinner before we look for the perfect spot for the car.”

Your son was fast asleep while sleeping soundly on the couch. After dinner, and a long conversation with your son about cars, and the airplane he drew, you fell asleep on the couch.

The last days drained all the energy out of you, and you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Dean had the guts to blame you for leaving. He even lied about the note you left.

Dean wrings his hands. He debates whether to use the number he got from Charlie or not. What if you don’t take his call? What if you don’t believe his mother stole the note you left?

He takes a deep breath and dials your number, waiting for you to pick up the phone.

Dean closes his eyes, holding his breath when you take the call.

 "Hello, this is Ms. Y/L/N phone you are speaking to. I'm Michael Joseph Y/L/N, how can I help you?" Dean gasps at the other end of the line, whilst he tries to find his voice. He didn’t expect a child to answer his call.

"Hi, I'm Dean Winchester and I wanted to talk to your aunt Y/N Y/L/N..."

"That’s my mother, Sir. My aunt lives in France. I'm afraid my mother fell asleep on the couch. I'm asking you to call again in the morning."

"You're Y/N's son, huh?" Nosy Dean tries to get more information. "How old are you buddy? When is your birthday?"

"Why do you want to know?” your son asks. “Mom said not to tell strangers more about me. I don’t know you, so you are a stranger.”

“Uh-I’m an old friend of your mom. I’d like to give you something for your birthday,” Dean feels bad for lying to a child, but he can’t stop now.

“I'm seven, Sir. But I'll turn eight soon...well in a few months." Your son politely answers while Dean tries to remember how to do mathematics. His heart races and his jaw goes slack realizing he's got a child...with you. "Shall I tell my mom you called?"

"No, it's okay, buddy. I'll call her later..." Dean hastily says. The last thing he wants is for you to know that he knows about your sweet little secret.

Half an hour later Dean stands in front of Sam’s door, he harshly knocks and calls his brother’s name.

"SAM, Sammy, we got to fly to London, today,” he calls for his brother. “SAMMY! OPEN THE DOOR!

Sam opens the door. He yawns and rubs his tired eyes. “Dude, it's 2 am. Why are you at my apartment?" Sam grumbles. “Can’t this wait?”

"Sammy…I got a son,” Dean splutters and wildly gestures toward his car. “Y/N got my kid and I need to get to London...now..."

Designed by pain (5)

Tags in reblog.

[hexedwinchester]

Why Being Manipulated into Letting Gadreel in a Huge Deal for Sam?

I know a lot of Dean Girls were very upset (and will be upset after reading this post) with Sam when Dean asked him if the roles were reversed if he would have done the same thing (letting an angel possess him to save his life). Sam simply says no! Some fans have gone to the extent of calling him selfish but no, Sam is not being selfish in that scene. It wasn't that he didn't care about his brother. He really does and that is why him saying no is actually a good thing.

Now see, Dean never had to go through the whole loss of bodily autonomy due to a possession issue (not until after he was possessed by Michael but that's way after the Gadreel plot) like Sam has been and disturbingly a lot more number of times than Dean's single rodeo with Otherworld Michael (or is it AU Michael? whatever!). Just to keep the argument simple, I am purely focusing on the loss of bodily autonomy purely from a possession POV.

When Meg possessed Sam in S2, she used his body to kill other hunters, to assault Jo and to beat Dean. Maybe she did a lot worse than that, we don't know. Who is left with the trauma of that knowledge? Sam!

The Gary-Sam body swap. This one though seems funny on the surface, it's actually kinda disturbing because Gary used Sam's body to have sex and the kid. Kinda gross enough already but that dumb kid could have easily handed over the vessel to Lucifer. Imagine, that's how it played and Sam was back into his body. Now who is trapped with Lucifer, the Devil? Sam!

Speaking of, understandably saying yes to Lucifer was Sam's call to put him back in the box but it didn't go down without blood on his hand. The moment Lucifer took control of Sam's body, he killed the demons from Sam's life that deceived him. I am guessing these were possessed people he killed in the process and not just wisps of black smoke. At Stull cemetery, he exploded Cas to bits, snapped Bobby's neck and beat up Dean to pulp! all by whose hands? Sam's!

Gadreel's possession did help Sam get better but at what cost? Kevin's death? How many nightmares did Sam have seeing his hands burning Kevin hollow? Now let me point out the aftermath of this possession which is somehow even worse than the actual possession: Crowley skewered Sam's brains with needles, hell, he even possessed Sam to wake him as if one possession was not enough. Sam literally had two supernatural beings possessing him at one time! Don't even get me started on the painful, torturous grace extraction process. Sam was willing to die in that moment because he believed his life wasn't worth saving, definitely not at the cost of Kevin's life!

Before this role reversal scene, Dean wasn't possessed by anything, so he doesn't understand how horrible it is to lose autonomy over one's mind and body. I don't expect him to grasp the gravity of it. He sees it as a healing from within. For him, if 'ends justifying the means' that's all that matters.

When every single possession has caused nothing but grave trauma to Sam Winchester, tell me why would he or anyone for that matter, in their sane heads do this on their own brother, especially when they love them so much?

Here's another very real life perspective for all those who feel Sam saying 'no' if the situation was reversed was a horrible betrayal and proof that he doesn't love Dean enough: Ever had someone you love on life support or gone through a situation where you had to put down your beloved pet? Why do we do this? is it because we don't love them? because we don't care? no! Because sometimes, it is better to let them go than to prolong their suffering by putting them through this pain. So next time you feel Sam was being selfish, or disloyal to Dean or that he didn't care enough, think about a loved one suffering through something horrible because you didn't have the guts to let go!

[skeletonsslut]

i’m sorry.

pairing: sam winchester x female!reader

warnings: character death (reader), angst, tears, general pain

summary: after the heartbreaking and gruesome death of y/n l/n, sam listens to the only thing left of her: tapes.

notes: this is poorly written and not proofread by any means. also written at 4am :)

wc: 1028

“Hello? Check one, check two. Uh, well, hi, it’s Y/N, but you already know that,” She cuts herself off with a small chuckle — one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam. Her melodic laugh rings repeatedly through his mind, bouncing off of the walls of his head, on an endless loop. He hasn’t heard her laugh in so, so long and he’d do anything to hear it again — well, with these tapes in front of him, he’d have to be a bit more specific — he’d do anything to hear her laugh again, in person. Or, even better, to see her, full of life and standing in front of him, saying what he saw was all kind of sick dream. That’s all he wants.

But, realistically, that just wasn’t going to happen. Sam wasn’t naïve, and he wasn’t dumb. He knew he wasn’t getting her back. Not after her body was mangled and torn by a hellhound ten feet in front of him. No, not after he falsely promised her that he wouldn’t let anything get her and, no, definitely not after he stared at the flames licking up the pyre, engulfing her lifeless body in flames. Not when he knew for a fact that the love of his life was dead.

“Uh, okay. I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t really plan this out before I hit the button, so I’ll just start,” Her voice pauses, and Sam inhales a shaky breath. If he had known how refreshing (but simultaneously heartbreaking) it would be to hear her voice again, he would have listened to these tapes way earlier.

“I guess what I should say first is, I’m sorry,” the tapes play, her voice coming out a bit staticky… not clear enough for Sam to close his eyes and pretend that it’s really her in front of him and not just a Walkman, “and that’s true. I am. I’m sorry for leaving you so soon, and I’m sorry I’m hurting you. But I’m not sorry for the deal I made. I could never apologize for that.”

Sam feels a pang in his heart, tears forming in his eyes, “I saved you. You died. You died and… I couldn’t let it stay that way. Dean was broken. Hell, so was I. And… I guess maybe it’s selfish of me. I’m selfish because I’m letting them take me so soon, because I settled for only one more week with you. Selfish that I sold my soul for your life because I was too weak to see you like that. I’m ready to admit that. But it’s also more than that. People need you, Sam. Dean needs you, and the world needs you. The world needs Sam Winchester.”

But I need you is what he wants to tell her. He wants to scream and yell and cry and hug her and love her. He wants to tell her that the world needs her, too. He wants to tell her that, yes, she was being selfish! He wants to ask her how she could even do this to him. He even wants to tell her he thinks he might hate her for this, but he knows he doesn’t, and he knows he couldn’t. If she was in front of him now, he wouldn’t even think to say any of that. He’d grip her tight and tell her he loves her and he’d never let her go.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I’m glad I made the deal. I wouldn’t take it back, Sam. Not for the world. You know why?” She pauses, sounding as if she’s getting a bit teary herself despite her efforts to keep her composure for her listener, “Because you are my world.”

Sam’s breath hitches and he clamps his eyes together tighter.

“But what I am sorry for,” Y/N draws a quivering breath that can be heard on the tapes, “is all the time we’re going to lose. I’m sorry we won’t ever get to hug again, kiss again. I’m sorry we won’t get another movie night, that we won’t be able to stay up reading lore until our heads feel like they’ll explode. I’m sorry I’ll never get the time to buy you one of those cheesy NASA certificates, you know, where you name a star? ‘Cause I really was gonna do that,” Sam can hear her bittersweet laugh and it makes him miss her that much more, “I’m sorry that we won’t ever get to see that one nerd museum in Missouri you were always talking about. And…” She pauses again and he hears ruffling, fabric, “I’m sorry we won’t get that family we talked about starting.”

Tears slip down his cheeks and he can’t be bothered to wipe them, too immersed in the tapes, hanging off her every word. She pauses for a long moment, trying to collect herself. Sam supposed she didn’t want to be a mess on the tapes, trying to stay strong for Sam.

“I love you, and I’m not sorry for that.” She says when she speaks again, “I’m not sorry for being a part of your life. I don’t regret any of it, the monsters, the chaos, the fighting, I don’t mind it. Not when I have you. You make it better. You make me better.”

She pauses for another long moment, and the only noise is the crackling of the tape before she speaks up again.

“Thank you for letting me love you, Sam Winchester.”

The tape clicks to a stop and a breath Sam didn’t know he was holding was released. He opened his lids and glanced down at the Walkman with glossy eyes, finally reaching to wipe his tears off his cheeks when he realizes he isn’t anywhere near done.

A small shoebox filled with cassettes lays in front of him, and he fishes another out, looking at the title. Her neat handwriting spells out, ‘memories’, and he worries the inside of his cheek as he stares. He clicks open the Walkman, pulling the tape he’d just listened to out. He looked at the words scribbled across the front of it — I’m sorry.

[fandom-hoarder]

Grabbing these tags by @deanwinchesterpregnant from this post to expand.

Because yes, this is a very important part! Sam says it, too!

And while there ARE Sam haters that will say "Sam doesn't know how much Dean sacrificed!" and mean it as a JUDGEMENT and omg wooby!Dean; there are also people like me, who started writing s1 Sam POVs to understand him better, and suddenly connected him to my little brother like, 'OH. Sam doesn't KNOW. How COULD he know??😭' and it's not a judgment of his character or his love for Dean! And he's not stupid! They're both just kids who have yet to work through their own shit enough to realize they don't know EVERYTHING about each other, despite their shared history. It's part of why Sam says in In My Time of Dying that they were "just starting to be brothers again."

Obviously it's a necessary part of s1 to give us, the viewer, expositional glimpses into Sam and Dean's inner workings. But the way they each react to certain new revelations about each other are still canon even if there are Doylist reasons.

It's canon that Sam didn't know Dean carried him out of the fire. It's canon that Dean has felt responsible for Sam almost being eaten by a shtriga since he was 9/10 years old, and it's canon that Sam never even knew that happened. It's canon that the memory of Mary was so coveted by Dean and John that Sam has virtually no connection to her; no stories and no echoes of her in the way they live other than the infamous Winchester Surprise.

It's canon that Sam doesn't really have any happy holiday memories, and Dean does. It's canon that their perspective on the same shared holidays is completely different. It's canon that Dean stole Christmas decorations and presents for Sam and apparently none for himself. And it's canon that Sam realized Dean did that for him and gave him his only present. And it's canon that remembering that made grown-up Sam want to give Dean Christmas even though it meant admitting something hurtful to himself. (John not showing up for Christmas/Dean's last Christmas)

If you put yourself in Sam's shoes--- a kid left alone for most of his formative years; unable to put down roots and make friends; whose best friend, the only one who could even try to understand him, is his good little soldier brother--- it's easier to understand why Sam felt lonely and became a much more introspective person. Because he was literally stuck with just his thoughts and anxieties and the TV for days at a time. When you think about how sick he must've been about it, every time Dean and John would leave. Waiting for that next phone call. Biting his fingernails when the call was late. Wanting to be invited to prove yourself, but also because if you're THERE at least you KNOW what happens.

But then, too, if you can put yourself in Dean's place: it's not necessarily something a kid or young adult can fully appreciate--- especially a somewhat emotionally immature young adult--- that their little sibling is a completely autonomous person with their own inner life. They don't just pause when you leave their sight. Dean throws himself into the hunt, and isn't thinking about how much Sam is worrying about them. He's thinking, "Sam is safe, so I can focus on backing Dad up."

It sounds selfish, but it's simply a fact of the maturing brain that it takes some time to comprehend someone else's existence outside of you as a real thing and not just a vague concept.

So, to touch on another aspect that gets discoursed:

There ARE a lot of things about Dean's parentification that Sam doesn't know at first, but he has always known about it to SOME degree. He had his own perspective on it, and for sure I wouldn't say that Sam thought of Dean as his parent. Dean has definitely always been his older and somewhat overbearing big brother. But who do you think Sam took his problems to? Who threatens to rip his bully's lungs out in After School Special? Who remembers what fucking play Sam did in drama?

And a short related aside--- thinking about how Sam was surprised about the things of his John had in storage. His surprise that John kept an eye on him at Stanford. And relating these things that changed Sam's understanding of his father, to the way his understanding of Dean shifted with each revelation of what Dean had done for him. And despite everything Sam ALREADY knew, his adult brain and life experiences gave him new perspective on things.

This maybe is a little rambley, but oh well. What was I saying...

Oh yeah. So sometimes people get upset about Dean being given like. More praise than he deserves or something, by having those "you practically raised me" lines and things. As if it's a retcon. But it's really not.

It's Sam growing up, and his brain constantly taking in new information and reshaping his understanding. It's Sam seeing how much Dean blames himself for things that weren't his fault, and wanting Dean to see the good he's done. It's Sam being able to see Dean's heart underneath his codependent or selfish decisions, and reaching out. It's Sam trying to remind Dean he can lean on Sam, too.

I've gone off on a tangent and made myself tear up lol. I don't remember where I wanted to end up anymore. Somewhere in the ether there's another rant about how Dean has a harder time allowing himself the introspection on his perception of Sam, and how this leads to Sam having to do a lot of the leading on the emotional maturity of their relationship, and how hard this is when the person you're leading still sees you as their kid, in whatever capacity.

But ultimately, of COURSE Sam does as much for Dean. Of course Sam has agency in this and isn't Dean's baby that had a pampered childhood vs Dean's horrible one. Sam and Dean acknowledging the actual circumstances of their childhood dynamic doesn't have to be a Samgirls vs Deangirls fucking situation lol.

[adanmwere]

ok look look I'm all here for dean not knowing castiels confession was romantic yeah Jensen I hear ya buddy but have you ever thought of the fact that he did?

but it wasn't so clear to him before because he was tone deaf to the angels ways. Not until castiel uttered the words "I love you" dean knew all those years. the real reason why castiel did everything and went against his own kind, because of the Sher amount of love he felt for one pathetic little man named dean Winchester. he didn't feel like he was good enough to deserve this type of love. not that he was complaining but everything coming together in his mind, he couldn't do much but beg castiel not to do this. and then it was to late, left alone with sheer regret of not using the words "I love you to" he'd never been the type of guy to be up right with his words. even Sammy knew this, hell Sam didn't remember the last time dean told him he loved him fully Or just straight up said "I love you" he had his ways of using other words to avoid saying that one. Small sentence he feared so much. and now his one chance at any true love was gone like a blink of an eye, how stupid could one man be? he's done stupid things, but this had to have been worst then that (I am half awake HELP). why? Why couldn't he say one sentence not even a full one at that, nothing more then three words and seven letters. Everytime he'd ever tried to it felt like his jaw would lock up as if it tried to keep from saying something he either didn't really mean or something he couldn't promise. couldn't even tell the people he cared so dearly about he loved them. Maybe it was the shame he felt when he let out his side that was weaker then what he wore. The side that would shatter upon any small impact. he was like a ticking time bomb. he missed castiel. he was stunned and couldn't do anything but let his outer shell shatter as the tears came running down like a waterfall. he couldn't make them stop and his eyes started to burn with all the rubbing he was doing, his lungs got tighter along with his wind pipes. Taking small gasps for air with every horrible sob. those words ruinned his life, "I love you" wasn't enough for him. why was he so selfish?