#Spnfanficpond

[zepskies]

'Twas the Night...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.    

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa gift for @eldritchlibertine! The idea is based on this request from @whichwitchwanda (a story prompted from the header image).

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff! Christmas feels. ❤️

A door burst open, and your eyes raised from the page. You nearly dropped your book into your lap when you saw it—the wide, bristled top of an evergreen tree trying to shove its way through the door of the bunker.

Or rather, it only seemed that way.

All the way up at the top of the rod iron staircase, grumbled cursing and muttering and arguing filtered down to you in the common room, where you were leaning back in your seat with an old copy of Wuthering Heights. You sat up, an incredulous smirk beginning to curve your lips.

“Dean, it’s not gonna fit.” That was Sam, obviously. You’d recognize his testy bitching anywhere.

“You kiddin’ me? All that work I spent sawing this thing outta the ground, I’m gonna damn well make it fit. Come on, put your big boy pants on.”

The equally familiar gruff, grousing tone of your man’s voice almost made you snort. You set down the book on the table and debated whether you were going to get up and try to help, or let them hash it out. You were surprised they hadn’t called out for you yet.

After a few more seconds of listening to their frustrated huffing and puffing, you shook your head and got up. You reached the top of the stairs, and their sounds of irritated, breathless struggle became even clearer.

“Dean,” Sam protested.

“Shut up. I’ve almost got it…”

“You’re gonna break the damn frame—”

“Something tells me you didn’t get this thing at Home Depot,” you remarked.

There was a pause, and Dean called your name questioningly. He also sounded a bit embarrassed.

“Yep, I’m here, Chevy Chase,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the branches that were stuck in the doorway. You bent them at the angle the guys needed to get the whole thing inside, and all too quickly you had to step out of the way as Sam and Dean broke through the doorway with the rest of the tree.

Sam caught himself on the wall, while Dean threw a hand out to grasp at the railing of the stairs. You grabbed Dean’s arm to help steady him. Once he had his feet planted, he slung an arm around your waist and looked down on you with a satisfied smile—one that he then aimed at Sam.

“See? Told you it would fit.”

“Where did you even get this thing?” you asked. You eyed Dean in curiosity, even as you were helping him stream the lights around this seven-foot monstrosity. You’d also taken great delight in putting on some holiday music. Now, Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” was playing from a Bluetooth speaker on the War Room table.

Dean shot you a distracted smile as he worked in concentration, bringing a string of lights around the part of the tree that was closest to the wall. He handed off the other end to you, and you wrapped the line of multicolored lights around.

“Eh, there’s a nice bit of forest a few miles out of town,” he said. Your brows raised high. You’d suspected, of course, but you still shook your head with a smile.  

“You know you need a permit for that, right?” you said.

“I tried to tell him,” said Sam. He was on his way up the stairs, heading out back to the car to get the box of ornaments he and Dean bought at Walmart this morning along with the pretty multicolored lights, all while you were still sleeping.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, but just kept focused on his task. Once he started something, he had to finish it, you noticed. And when he got into something, he was Mr. DIY, putting in his all. You liked watching the crunch between his brows, the set of his lips, the sureness of his hands while he mentally calculated what they were going to accomplish next.

Most of all, you liked the look of self-satisfaction when he was done, and happy with his finished product. It didn’t matter if he was tuning up the Impala, making a home-cooked meal for the three of you, or decorating a wild tree. That face was the same. 

“Illegally obtained tree aside,” you said, not bothering to temper your smile, “I thought you guys didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Or any holidays, for that matter.”

Dean gave you a small grin, though again, he seemed a little embarrassed. He freed one of his hands to scratch at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…weren’t you the one who was talking about the Christmases you had growing up?” he said.

You blinked, your mouth gently falling open in surprise. That had been a couple weeks ago, when the first snow of December began to fall over Lebanon. Late that night, after settling into bed together, you’d turned towards him in his arms. Maybe it was the turn of the season making you nostalgic, but somehow the conversation drifted into you making a confession, about what you missed the most about your family.

Your parents had passed on, and your sister was distant. She had her own family and her own life, and she wanted to keep it far away from the things you hunted. You couldn’t blame her, even if the thought of her always pierced your heart.

Beyond than that, what you missed was the house where you grew up, small but cozy and lived in. You missed the smell of pine and cinnamon that filled the living room every day of December. You missed the nights you and your sister curled up by the fire late at night playing imaginary games, long after your parents’ had put you guys to bed. You missed your mother’s cooking, and helping her bake molasses cookies on Christmas Eve.

You missed togetherness, the feeling of warmth and safety.

You tilted your head at Dean.

“Yeah, but…” you trailed, not willing to finish the thought as another suspicion grew in your mind.

“Just thought we could do some of that this year for you, that’s all,” he said. And he shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. His hands were busy untangling some lights. “Matter of fact, we could all use the time off.”

You couldn’t help but pause. Your breathing shallowed, and no matter how much you fought it, tears stung in your eyes. You bit your lip to try and hold it all at bay. When Dean glanced up at you, he had to do a double take. It made you smile, despite your slightly blurring vision.

“Hey, what—”

You dropped your end of the lights and went to him. You raised up on your toes so you could wrap your arms around his neck in a warm hug. Dean uttered a surprised huff, but his arms came around your waist and gathered you closer. He soon realized he was still holding onto the tangle of lights, and he hung them on a nearby tree branch for now. His smile overtook his surprise and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I love you. You know that right?” Your voice was muffled in his neck, but he heard you well enough. He chuckled and slipped a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I do know, actually,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

A giggle escaped you. You tugged on his short hair in retaliation, making him chuckle.

“Hey,” he warned, but it had heat of a different kind. His hand began venturing down to your ass, but before he could do some retaliating of his own, a door swung open and Sam came down the stairs hefting a couple different boxes of ornaments.

He raised a brow, though he smiled at the way you and his brother were entwined. You half pulled away to nod at Sam, sniffling at quickly wiping at your face. Dean dried some of the wetness from the corner of your eye with a curled finger. You glanced up at him and couldn’t help blushing, smiling, despite your embarrassment.

Dean still had an arm wrapped around your waist as you peered over at the boxes Sam set down near the tree. One of them caught your attention and made your eyes widen.

“Oh my God. They’re Scooby Doo themed!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent decorating the tree with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby echoing throughout the common room. After you made a trip to the grocery store, soon the smell of cinnamon, brown sugar and rich molasses joined the scent of pine throughout the entire bunker.

It was a Christmas Eve well spent. The night was filled with a rewatch marathon of Home Alone and Christmas Vacation. You agreed to Dean throwing in Elf into the mix, as long as you got to watch Love Actually, and The Holiday with Jude Law. Dean complained more than Sam about your girly chick-flicks, but he became just as invested in Colin Firth pouring his heart out in mangled Portuguese to Aurelia as you were, if less teary-eyed.

When The Holiday came around though, he was half asleep as he laid sprawled across your lap and the couch. Your nails gently massaging his scalp nearly did him in, along with Sam’s heavy-ass pour of eggnog. It was tradition, at this point.

By the end of the movie marathon, you were the one snoozing from your corner of the couch, your hand still in Dean’s hair.

He carried you to bed that night, your eyelids heavy as you teetered back and forth between slumber and the waking world. At least you were already in your pajamas. All he had to do was tuck you under the sheets on your side of the bed, then slip in behind you afterwards.

His arm draped around your waist, and you curled towards him, half on instinct as you let out a deep breath. Dean smiled as you settled against his chest. Your soft snores soon greeted his ears. Only then did he let himself rest…

Just not for long.

You woke earlier than you planned to in the morning, mainly because your man pillow was no longer beside you. You reached out a hand and found Dean’s side of the bed empty and cold, the covers pulled back. With a frown, you opened bleary eyes and checked your phone. It was around the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m.

What the hell was Dean doing up at the crack of dawn?

Unless… You paused as your memory served you a grim reminder. Unless he’d had a rough night, kept up by memories and dreams he didn’t always want to talk to you about. It wouldn’t be the first time he came back to bed after a few hours with the heady smell of bourbon on him.

You got up with a sigh, rolling your neck as you did so. You just wanted to check on him. Maybe you could even persuade him to come back to bed.

You threw on a sweater over your pajamas and some fluffy slippers Sam bought you for your birthday—all to shield you from the bunker’s chilly air and ice-cold floors. You’d have to remind Dean to check on the heater.

You padded out of the bedroom and down the long hall…and became distracted by the Christmas tree in the common room. It really was beautiful all lit up. The lights softly flashed in green, red, purple, and gold. Traditional red and gold ornaments hung beside the Scooby Doo themed ones, with Fred and Daphne front and center, along with the rest of the gang scattered throughout.

And then you found Dean.

“Damn it…friggin’ piece of shit ribbon…” 

Dean’s muttering drew your attention to his hunched figure kneeling at the base of the tree. Your head tilted in wonder as your face broke out into a smile. What the hell is he doing? You tried to be light on your feet as you approached him from behind. Peering over his shoulder, you could almost see what he was trying do with some shiny red wrapping paper and a big golden bow.

Your heart swelled. Had he really gotten you and Sam something for Christmas too? He didn’t need to get you anything…

Dean’s hunter reflexes must’ve been tingling though, because suddenly he sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw you standing there in your pajamas, arms crossed over your robe.

He actually jolted, muttering a curse as he tried to cover up what he was doing.

“What’cha doin’, babe?” you asked. Your eyes gleamed with amusement.

Dean tried to get up, but his foot slipped on a stray ribbon. He careened back onto his ass and knocked into the tree. Not only did its branches poke into his face and arm, making him wince, but he managed to displace a couple of ornaments, sending them tumbling to the floor by his hand. He grunted and raised up onto his forearms. For the pièce de résistance, that lovely golden bow landed right in his lap.

With raised brows, you took in the sight of your man—all bedraggled and looking sheepish (and adorable) as hell. Your hand went up to cover your mouth, but you were unable to quiet the giggle that bubbled up and escaped your lips.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You glanced down at the bow, almost perfectly placed in his lap.

“Hey,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile.

You lowered down to kneel in front of him, and you took his face in your gentle hands before you leaned in for a sweet, sensuous kiss. Dean breathed into it. Your eyes shut along with his as you savored the moment, and him.

When you parted, your smile remained as you fingered the shiny edge of the bow. Dean began to smirk as well, despite how warm his face had gotten. His big hands found their way to your hips, welcoming you when you took a comfortable seat over his thighs.

You whispered against his lips, “I already know which present I’m gonna unwrap first.” 

AN: Lol there we go, a cheeky ending for you! Let me know if you liked this! ❤️💚

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@dmz1975

[jessjad]

Snow globe

Summary: A visit from Dean and Sam in the week around christmas is a nice surprise, but will it bring more than just presents?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1770

Warnings: none. Just a tiny little fluff and something new.

A/N: Hello! 😊 This is my contribution to @spnfanficpond 's secret santa 2024. This is for @burntsecrets. I hope you like it. The picture is made by the lovely @thebiggerbear who tried to make sense of my ideas! All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

My Masterlist

"Is it really okay for us to be here during christmas?" Sam asked with his typical puppy eye look.

Y/N had to grin. "Of course it is. Although I'm surprised you guys wanted to come here. I would've thought you would spent christmas at Jody's."

It's been five more days until the 24th and Y/N had already perpared for a plan B, herself not wanting to be alone over the holdiays. But Sam's call yesterday was a really nice surprise. So she had put up her christmas decorations and had bought a tree, which now glittered and shone in all its glory.

"Well... Jody has already a pretty full house." Dean said and scratched the back of his head a little nervously.

"Yeah, with the girls, you know? And Donna is gonna come over too." Sam explained further.

"And eventhough the bunker is big..." Dean started and Y/N new what he meant. 'The bunker is too big for two guys alone.'

"... we were just thinking you might want to have some company this year." Sam finished. "Since we haven't seen eachother in a while." he smiled.

But Y/N knew what that meant too. 'You are just as alone as we are.' And it was true. After what happened last year with Chuck and the world almost ending, Y/N had lost the last two people in her life. Her parents.

They knew about the life and everything that goes bump in the night. So, when everyone felt the end coming, a pack of vampires went rouge and their house was on their list. They called their daughter, but she came to late. And when she stepped foot into the house, Sam and Dean had already been there. That was the first time they had meet. Since then they stayed in close contact.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm happy that you are here. Now, I can give back to you with providing some shelter and food." she winked.

Both the brothers laughed to that. Then she showed the brothers her place. Sam took the guest bedroom since he was the taller one. Dean was fine with sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room. Y/N had offered her own bedroom to the older Winchester, but he refused. But not without mentioning that he would sleep in there with her, but not alone.

To that, Y/N blushed a little. If he would only know that she was in love with him, he may have not said it. But Y/N had always loved the flirty side to Dean. Which was one of the things that had made her fall in love with him.

For the rest of the day all three stayed inside and catched up. Y/N cooked some chicken and roasted potatos for dinner while christmas music was running in the background. It felt strangely like home.

When Y/N came back from grocery shopping the next day, Dean was standing in the kitchen. Apron around his waist, bowls and ingredients out on the counter and he was fiddling with the kitchen machine. Somehow he had already flour in his hair and on gthe tip of his nose. It was to adorable.

"Crap... Dammit!" he grumbled while he pressed the screen.

“Is everything okay in here?” Y/N asked with a grin.

"What? No... shit, what kind of fucking devil's trap is this thing?"

"It's not a devil's trap, it's a Kenwood." Y/N said, coming over to Dean after putting her bags down.

"Well, whatever this thing is, sweetheart, it's not working."

"Yes it it, Dean. You just have to push here." and Y/N pointed at the right function.

"Where? Here?" and without waiting Dean just pushed again.

The mixing arm began to rotate at the highest level and pump all the flour out of the bowl into the air. Within seconds they were both enveloped in white mist and Dean now had gray hair. At first it was quiet, but then Y/N burst out laughing. Dean looked a little taken aback, but also had to grin.

"How is it that the man who invents and builds his own EMF detector... can't even use a kitchen machine?" she teased him.

“You really can’t compare the two, Y/N.”

"If you say so." the woman smiled and ruffled the flour from his hair.

Dean turned a little more towards her and waited for Y/N to finish. But when she lowered her arm again, her smile disappeared. It was only then that Y/N noticed how close they were to each other. So she looked down briefly and took a few steps back. Dean then cleared his throat slightly.

"You, um... put up quite a lot of decorations."

"Oh, yes." Y/N replied, secretly happy for the little distraction.

She took off her jacket and shoes as well, looked around briefly and then started putting away her purchases.

"Christmas was always important to my parents. Me too. We always celebrated it throughout December." Wistfulness crept into her eyes, but it didn't go unnoticed by Dean. "It's still important to me..."

"How can I argue with that?" answered Dean quietly.

"Not to mention. We've always been true believers." Now she had a mischievous smile on her face again and the melancholy had disappeared.

Dean chuckled. "I believe that straight away. With all the snow globes. Do you like those the best?"

He wiped his hands on his apron and came around the counter. His baking has long been forgotten.

"Yes and no. It's acutally a family tradition."

"How so?" now he was curious.

"My father had never been someone who expressed his feelings openly. And at some point my mother said that the two of them had had a big argument. They had only been together four months." She folded the last empty bag and put it aside.

"I don't remember exactly what it was about, but Mom probably told him that she still wasn't sure whether my father even loved her at all. She was missing a feeling of security. But even after the argument he probably still couldn't say it. Then they went on a break."

Now Dean came over to Y/N, who had just picked up one of the snow globes that was on the windowsill. They met halfway at the couch.

"Shortly afterwards it was her birthday and she still hadn't heard from dad. But when she came home there was a package at her door with this snow globe in it."

Dean took it in his hand and saw a dark red heart with 'I love you' written on it in white letters. Rainbow glitter floated around when you shook it.

"She didn't have to guess who the gift came from." Y/N grinned. "In the years that followed, he said it sometimes, but Mom still kept getting a snow globe and as long as that didn't stop, she knew that his feelings for her hadn't changed."

And unbeknownst to Y/N, her little trip down memory lane had given the man next to her an idea that he hoped would work.

Christmas Eve passed without any further incidents. Y/N had cooked a delicious meal that the two brothers praised over and over again. Y/N almost felt like they didn't get any real food otherwise. Dean had contributed the dessert by trying the baking again, but this time without the Kenwood.

They laughed a lot, listened to Christmas music loudly and filled the room with Christmas spirit. Late in the evening, after all the food had been eaten and the dishes had been cleared away, they sat on the couch and watched a Christmas movie. So they ended the evening comfortably before they all went to sleep.

When Y/N woke up the next morning, the smell of coffee filled her apartment. Curious, she got up and soon saw Sam standing in the kitchen, who had already prepared breakfast.

"Hey, good morning!" He greeted her cheerfully and came over to give her a quick hug.

Y/N was too happy to return the hug, but her eyes fell on the couch, which was empty. The bathroom door opened and Dean came over too. He also hugged Y/N in greeting and inside she didn't want to let him go.

They sat down at the table and had breakfast in peace. Afterwards they distributed their gifts. There weren't any special things, just little niceties, but Y/N was still incredibly happy that they had all thought of gifts. After all, it was only the thought that counted.

She was just throwing away the loose packing material when she saw Sam putting on his jacket and exchanging a look with Dean that only the two brothers knew how to interpret. She looked at the boys in surprise.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, well... I have to get a present for Jody and the girls. Dean and I are stopping by their place when we leave here the day after tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. But don't stay away too long. They've reported heavy snowfall later today."

"I won't." Sam replied and disappeared shortly afterwards.

Silence spread and in order to keep herself occupied, Y/N began to clear the table. This wasn't the first time she'd been alone with Dean, but it still felt somehow strange. After a moment, Dean cleared his throat, making Y/N turn to him. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that he was holding a small package in his hand.

"This... I just forgot to give this to you."

"What?" A little surprised, she took the gift but didn't do anything else.

"I really thought about how to do this for a long time. After all... I'm really not good at this sort of thing. But I couldn't wait any longer and I just hope... that my efforts aren't in vain."

And suddenly Y/N had an idea what was behind this gift. "Dean..."

"Come on. Open it."

And she did. With slightly shaking hands, she untied the bow and took off the lid. A snow globe appeared. Inside was a little sunflower that smiled. He really remembered that these were her favorite flowers. She looked up at Dean and felt her eyes getting watery.

"I like you, Y/N. I really like you. And I was so nervous to come over here. But I just had to try it and see if I read the signs right."

Y/N carefully placed the snow globe on the table and turned back to Dean.

"And if you like me back, which I really hope you do, then I'm yours."

And before Dean could say anything else, Y/N threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

A/N: I wish you all a wonderful christmas time! 💜

[kickingitwithkirk]

Christmas Wish

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1975

Warnings: Some cursing, bit of flangst

For: @starrylanex @spnfanficpond secret santa exchange

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Opening the bar's door, you sigh in happiness as warm air flows outward. While Vancouver wasn’t the coldest place you’d lived, the dampness made it feel worse. Hanging up your outerwear, you make a beeline to the bar and order from the holiday drink menu.

Thanking the bartender, you sip on the Spiced Silver Bell, gazing about, understanding why it’s the SPN cast's favorite hangout when Jared's voice booms over the party noises. “Hey, Y/N! I thought you bailed on us tonight!” Spotting them crowded in a circular booth, you squeeze in next to him, noticing the tipsy flush on his face, “I got stuck doing last-minute ADR thanks to a couple of petulant children on set today.” 

Jared gives an unabashed laugh and slides you a half-filled cup of eggnog when Mark piped up. “Don’t drink that, luv, it’ll put hair on your chest.” 

So, it has finally come: your trial by fire as the newest cast member and that onscreen Christmas gag flash through your mind. Determined to prove you can roll with this crew, knock back the overly rum-laden nog without a flinch. “Damn, sweetheart, color me impressed!” Jensen said, sitting down, draping his arm across the seat back behind you. You grin and hold the out cup, asking, “Please, sir, I want some more.”

****

It’s late into the night, and most everyone is well into their cups (except Mark), sharing what holiday plans they’d made when you felt Jensen’s fingers playing with your hair, making all sorts of naughty ideas about the man you’ve had a crush on for ages run rampant when you realize he’s speaking to you. Your huh response makes him chuckle, “I said your ass is ringing.” You felt his broad hand sliding slowly down your back before dipping into your pocket, retrieving the phone, felt a sudden panic seeing the number and knowing how mischievous Jensen gets when drinking, started wrestling him for it. But it's too late, and in his best British accent, he answers…

“Y/N Y/L/N, wanton sex goddess, with a very bad man between her thighs.”  

Jensen’s eyes widened. He sat straight and spoke most respectfully: “Mr. Y/LN, I...I apologize. Yes, sir, my mama raised me to know better, sir. " Jared was in hysterics, and Jensen flipped him off while handing you the phone. You put on your sweetest voice while glaring at Jensen. “Hi, Daddy! How are you? Give me a sec; I can barely hear you.”

Once outside, you regret not grabbing your coat, feeling Vancouver's damp coldness seeping through your thin shirt, and start to pace back and forth to stay warm. “Can you hear me? Yes, sir, I’m sorry about that. My coworkers tend to get silly after a few. What were you saying? Oh, when do you head out?” 

You’re filled with that particular disappointment you knew too well, having been raised by a single father in the military. Being a brat has prepared you for the life of a working actor, never knowing how long any job would last or where you’d end up next. The downside was that your father often deployed to places you couldn’t go and missed a few holidays, birthdays, and other milestones in your life. 

Peering through the window at the ongoing merriment inside felt a twinge of envy. “Yes, sir, I’m disappointed too. Perhaps we can try again next year. Be safe, love you.” You sit down and locate the information needed to cancel your holiday trip. You must have been outside longer than you realized when a warm coat draped around your shivering shoulders looked up to see Jared's and Jensen's concerned expressions.

****

Jensen had begun wondering what was taking you so long when he walked to the bar front and saw you sitting at one of the outdoor tables, typing on your phone. Shaking his head, he grabbed his coat, knowing Jared would be right behind. Draping the coat on your shoulders, neither could miss the unshed tears glistening in your eyes. Pulling up the other chairs, they sat down with you, and Jensen asked, “I take it your dad's not going to make it?” 

 “Yeah, he got called up for some yada yada. Wouldn’t you know it? The one time I didn't have a backup plan.” Jared frowned, “You canceled the whole trip?” You wave the phone, “Dad was using his military discount for the plane tickets.” You weren't making above scale since you hadn’t been in the business long. “I checked around, but the fees are out of my budget.”

 “So what are you going to do now?” Jensen asks, and you shrug, “I’ll just hang around till hiatus is over.” You miss the look the guys exchange as the three of you return to the bar; you pause. “Do me a favor. Keep this between us. I don’t need everyone feeling sorry for me.” 

Oh, jingle bell,s batman smells

Robin laid an egg

The god-awful singing outside your apartment’s front door jerks you awake, wishing upon the Christmas star that you hadn’t had that fourth eggnog last night; stumbled around the unpacked moving boxes, yanking open the door to find Jensen, clad in an elf hat and ugly Christmas sweater, continuing his off-key caterwauling when you neighbors poke their heads out, scowling as his voice boom out the song's outro.

The batmobile lost its wheel, and the Joker got away!

You hustle him in before awkwardly waving to your shocked-looking neighbors and shutting the door. You close your eyes and slump against it, noticing the guy has become eerily quiet. Cracking open one eye, Jensen, who is more reserved than you or Jared (who literally and metaphorically showed his rear end many times), is blushing to the top of his elfin ears and comments, “Wow, I didn’t know you had a tattoo by your Lady Jane.” Snatching the afghan off the couch, you wrap it around yourself and ask, “If you’re done with classic literature references, mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here?”

“Jared and I got to talking, and we couldn’t let you stay in Van for Christmas by yourself.” You crossed your arms, “And?” He scratched the back of his head, “We umm, well, we rock, paper, scissored to see which of us you’re staying with, and I won.” 

“I can’t believe you guys!” You huff in annoyance, but Jensen sticks out his full bottom lip and makes that pouty face you can’t resist, “Okay, you win. Can I at least know where we’re going so I can pack? What a minute, strike that. I thought you were going home for the holidays?”

“It ended up being more of a couples thing.” Jensen awkwardly says, and you nod, understanding why it’d be uncomfortable with his recent break up with his longtime fiancée. “And Jared bought you some clothes for the trip.” He pointed to a bag you hadn’t noticed, and you groaned, “Oh god, please tell me there’s not a string bikini in there.”

Driving alone with Jensen was a much different experience than you’d imagined. You were used to having an overly hyper-sasquatch in the car. 

But neither felt the need to fill the space with constant chatter, comfortable in each other’s presence; the stretches of silence during the trip weren’t awkward. And sometimes you got a concert for one when Jensen would sing along with the radio. 

Passing through the small, historic town near your destination, you began telling Jensen about visiting a similar place as a child. He asks about the other places you’ve been to, and before you know it, he’s turning into a long drive. 

You glimpse the luxury mountain home in the evening light filtering through the trees. “Holy smokes! You rented this?” You inquired as he parked in front of the three-door garage. “No. A friend of mine is out of the country and lent it to me.”  

Shouldering your duffel, you follow him in and stop in your tracks, taking in the main room (holy moly, it’s bigger than your apartment). Despite its size, it felt homey with its natural woods and rock fireplace all aglow. Jensen bumped your shoulder, “Come on, speechless. Let’s unload the car, then I’ll give you the ten-cent tour.”

The days flew by in a whirlwind. Each one presented a new adventure for the two of you, doing something the other had never done before.

Jensen took you tobogganing, and you got him in snowshoes. You couldn’t stop laughing because he moved like a penguin. You talked him into ice fishing (something he’d never do again because he almost froze his balls off) but made it up to Jensen by cooking the best-steamed trout he’d ever eaten. 

There were trips to the quaint town where he would drag you into all its small shops, shocking you how much he liked shopping. Later, he’d take you to the local pub for warm drinks or dinner if neither of you wanted to cook.

Christmas Day arrives, and after a leisurely morning, Jensen wants to take you skiing, bewildering you, and ask why since you’ve demonstrated how uncoordinated you are when ice skating. Reassuring that he’ll take the easy slopes till you get the hang, you reluctantly agree. Jensen found he needed the patience of Job because your legs kept wobbling like a giraffe,  crisscrossing the skis and landing on your jacksie in every turn. You call it a day after your third run, telling him to enjoy himself, you’ll be in the bar.

Jensen shows up a couple of hours later, worn but happy, and after consuming a warming drink, you head out. When you reach the house, the day spent on the slopes catches up; you notice Jensens not moving too quickly when climbing the steps to the front door and mutually agree it’s time to test out that hot tub on the deck.   

You step out the glass door to find Jensen submerged to his neck in bubbling water. Crossing over, you handed him a bottle of champagne and glasses. You felt his eyes on you as he fiddled with the corkscrew. “Guess it's a good thing you’ve already seen me in the altogether, but remind me to kill Jared when we return.” Before he can ask, you drop it and watch his eyes pop, along with the bottle's cork, at the thong bikini that leaves little to the imagination as you climb in.

Taking the offered glass, you sip on it before sitting it by your head and sinking till the waters over your sore body. After a while, you are completely relaxed and slightly tipsy when the question on your mind slips out; feel Jensen's leg twitch.

”Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about your broken engagement.” Jensen waves it off, and he responds that she’s the one who broke it because she thought he was seeing someone else. “What? When the hell would you have time? You’re on set at least twelve hours a day, not to mention all the cons.” 

“She was looking for an excuse, thought I should have moved on instead of sticking with some show on a low-ranking network. But I am grateful she did dump me.” You weren’t sure you’d processed what he said correctly, which must have shown on your face.

“I’m free to admit she was somewhat correct. I do see someone else almost every day who makes me want more. And since we’ve had this time to get to know each other better, hoping she’s willing to fulfill my Christmas wish and give my grumpy ass a shot?”

You move to him and, straddling his thighs, wrap your arms around his shoulders. “If you promise not to make me go skiing again, I’ll make all your Christmas wishes come true.” 

[burntsecrets]

Sweet Chaos

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1784 Summary: While staying in a cozy inn during a case, Sam surprises you with a gingerbread house kit he picked up at the local store. Warnings: Fluff, playful banter, NSFW, explicit sexual content, consensual intimacy A/N: This is for @moosekateer13 I'm your secret Santa for @spnfanficpond's Secret Santa 2024. I'm using the prompt for the @fluff-cember challenge, day 6: gingerbread house. I hope you like it!

The sound of the wind whistling outside the inn’s window pairs perfectly with the crackling of the small fireplace across the room. The case has been quiet so far—too quiet—but for tonight, you’ve managed to carve out a rare moment of peace. You’re curled up on the couch, flipping idly through an old book you picked up at the local thrift store when the sound of Sam clearing his throat pulls your attention. He stands in the doorway, his tall frame slightly hunched to accommodate the low ceiling. In his hands, he holds a brightly colored box, his dimples deepening as he grins at you.

“What’s that?” you ask, sitting up and tucking the blanket around your legs. Sam steps closer, holding up the box—a gingerbread house kit. It’s kitschy, with cartoon snowmen and candy canes decorating the front, but something about the gesture warms your chest. “Seriously? You bought that?”

Sam chuckles, setting the box on the coffee table in front of you. “I figured we could use a break. And hey, it’s festive.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Alright, Winchester. Let’s do this.”

The table is soon transformed into a sugary battleground. The kit includes walls, a roof, frosting in a plastic bag, and an assortment of candies that look slightly questionable but smell undeniably sweet. Sam carefully arranges everything with the precision of someone who has built a thousand IKEA bookshelves while you eye the frosting like a hawk–already scheming. “Okay, we start with the base,” Sam says, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pipes a line of frosting along the edge of the cookie walls. His big hands are surprisingly steady, and you can’t help but admire his focus.

“That’s cute,” you tease, picking up your own piping bag. “But my side is going to blow yours out of the water.”

“Oh, we’re making this a competition now?” Sam raises an eyebrow, his grin growing. “I thought this was supposed to be a team effort.”

“Teamwork is overrated,” you reply, nudging his elbow just enough to make his line of frosting wobble.

“Hey!” he protests, laughing. “You’re going to regret that.”

It starts innocently enough. You’re both diligently working on your respective sides of the gingerbread house, each stealing glances at the other’s progress. Sam’s side is neat, with perfectly aligned gumdrops and a roof that could be in a magazine. Yours… well, it has personality. “Why do you have all the gumdrops?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as Sam sneaks yet another piece of candy onto his side.

“Because I got here first,” he says, popping one into his mouth for good measure.

“That’s cheating,” you declare, grabbing the frosting bag and aiming it at him. Without thinking, you swipe a dollop of frosting across the bridge of his nose. The look of pure shock on his face makes you burst out laughing.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” Sam warns, his voice low and teasing. Before you can react, he dips his finger into the frosting and smears it across your cheek. You gasp, feigning outrage as you grab a handful of flour from the nearby bowl and toss it at him. It’s chaos after that—frosting, flour, and candy flying in every direction. Sam’s laugh is loud and carefree, the kind of sound you don’t hear often enough from him, and it fills the small room like sunlight.

By the time the battle subsides, the table is a disaster. Flour dusts the air, and bits of candy stick to your fingers. The gingerbread house stands in the center, a wobbly, candy-laden masterpiece that looks like it barely survived a storm. You’re both out of breath, sitting side by side on the couch and surveying the mess. “Well,” you say, brushing a streak of frosting from your arm. “It’s not winning any awards, but it’s ours.”

Sam leans forward, inspecting the lopsided roof with a critical eye. “It’s got character,” he agrees, his voice soft. You glance at him, your heart skipping a beat, when you notice the frosting still smeared on his nose. Without thinking, you reach out and wipe it away with your thumb. His green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly quiet.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. Before you can respond, he leans in, closing the space between you. His lips are warm and soft against yours, the kiss slow and sweet, like the moment itself. When he pulls back, his hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray bit of flour.

The air between you shifts, charged with something deeper, something you’ve both been skirting around for weeks. His eyes darken, flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admits, his voice husky.

Your breath hitches, and before you can think, you’re tugging him closer, kissing him with a fervor that surprises even you. His hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap as the kiss deepens, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans softly against your mouth, the sound making your pulse race.

Sam’s hands slide under your sweater, his touch warm against your skin as he trails his fingers up your back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips moving to your neck, kissing and nibbling along your jawline until you’re squirming in his lap.

You tug at his flannel shirt, pushing it off his shoulders to reveal the toned muscles underneath. He’s breathtaking, all broad shoulders and lean strength, and the way he’s looking at you makes your knees weak. “Sam,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as he shifts, laying you down on the couch and settling between your thighs.

He pauses, his hand cupping your cheek as he searches your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle despite the tension in his body.

“Yes,” you breathe, pulling him down for another kiss.

Sam’s lips trail fire down your neck as his hands caress your sides, the warmth of his touch chasing away every thought but him. He shifts his weight, pressing his body against yours, and the heat of him sears through your clothes. Your hands slide over the planes of his shoulders, gripping him as his mouth moves lower, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

The soft glow of the fire bathes the room in flickering light, casting shadows across Sam’s face as he pulls back to look at you. His hair falls slightly into his eyes, his lips swollen, and his chest heaving. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I don’t think I can take my time with you.”

Your fingers skim over his jaw, your thumb tracing the edge of his lips. “Who says I want you to?” you tease, your voice breathy. The words light a spark in him, and he leans down, claiming your lips with renewed intensity.

In one fluid motion, he sits back, lifting you into his arms as though you weigh nothing. You let out a soft laugh of surprise, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he settles over you. The tension between you hums like a live wire, the weight of his body grounding you in the moment.

His hands are sure as they slide beneath your sweater, pushing it up and over your head. You shiver as the cool air brushes your skin, but Sam’s touch is quick to warm you. He leans down, his lips brushing across your shoulder, then lower, kissing along the curve of your breast. Your back arches as his hands explore, every touch sending sparks skittering down your spine.

You tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliges, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Your hands roam over his chest, marveling at the heat and strength of him, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch. Sam groans softly as your fingers trace the lines of his abdomen, his hips pressing against yours in response.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his lips finding yours again. His kiss is fierce, all-consuming, and you lose yourself in the sensation of him. His hands trail down your sides, hooking into the waistband of your pants and tugging them down. You help him, shimmying out of them as he follows with his own, leaving you both bare and vulnerable in the firelight.

Sam pauses, his gaze raking over you as though committing every detail to memory. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice reverent. His words make your heart flutter, but there’s no time to dwell on them as he leans down, his lips brushing over your ear. “Let me show you.”

What follows is a blur of sensation—his lips and hands exploring every inch of you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, the way his body moves with yours in perfect rhythm. The fire crackles in the hearth, the snow falls softly outside, and the world narrows to the heat between you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

Time seems to stand still as you reach the peak together, his name spilling from your lips as he groans yours into your neck. He holds you close, his body trembling slightly as the moment washes over you both. The room is silent except for the sound of your breathing, the fire casting a warm glow over the two of you.

Sam rolls onto his side, pulling you into his arms. His hand brushes your hair back from your face, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I think we make a damn good team,” he murmurs, his voice low and content.

You smile, resting your head against his chest. “Only when you don’t steal all the gumdrops,” you reply, your tone teasing but affectionate.

He chuckles, his laugh rumbling against your cheek. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll share.” His arms tighten around you, and you let yourself relax into his embrace, the warmth of him and the fire lulling you into a blissful haze.

The snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the world in quiet, but inside the inn, the earlier chaos has given way to something softer, deeper, and undeniably real. For now, the case and the danger can wait. Tonight, it’s just you and Sam, and that’s more than enough.

[spnfanficpond]

August 2024 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @autisticandroids

like my waffle house hashbrowns by @spnregular

Extremely unique pwp. It involves at one point jerking off a plant. It also involves Dean comparing Cas to his car: “You know how I take care of my things. Keep ‘em clean, fine tuned,” Dean said, “Just like Baby.” Which is just *chef kiss*. And it's hair-washing kink. Which is so much fun.

~*~*~

Nominated by @aylacavebear

Things Learned and Unlearned by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

The author has a way with words, pulling you into a world all their own. I got hooked on this with the first chapter. This story has ALL the feels and it's not even finished yet. A truly amazing author.

~*~*~

Nominated by @evadne01

Gabe Lives And Loves by @masoena

I find this story while I was trying to cope after seeing again season 13. And this warmed my heart and I felt so good after reading it! Loved it, loved the arts of the story!

~*~*~

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

A Means to an End by Pieafterdemons

I was looking for some darker stuff to read and as many know, I love Alastair/Dean. So, I found this li'l story here. It's Dead Dove so be warned of the tags and what they entail. I like how the writer wrote the whump and the darkness of it all, and how Dean came to say yes. I also like the dark and yet not stereotypical idea of Alastair.

~*~*~

Nominated by @leatafandom

Making the Cut by @deeranger

This story was so deliciously dark, creepy, and horrifying. It is wonderfully written, the word choice the way they wove themes through and illicit stomach-turning emotions. It was a thrill to read and just one of new my favorite dark fics. A wonderful read if you're into dark themes.

State of Grace by @cloverhighfive

It's a very different story! Very interesting read!!!

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

The Harvest by @cloverhighfive

It's a very different story! Very interesting read!!!

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

The King's Seraph Consort (series) by @ladylilithprime

I've been enjoying Lady's Sastiel offerings when I need a little pick-me-up, and this little mini-series made me SWOON! Sam's so heroic! Sam and Dean are devoted to each other! Sam is so kind to Cas! Gabriel is wise, and yet still a wiseass! And this little two-part series is a perfect snack when I don't have time for anything bigger. It's adorable and sweet and makes me fall in love with Sam even more.

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Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

The Perfect Submissive (Google translated title) by Natcumirun (AO3)

The story is in Russian. I use Google translate. Shhh. Aside from the kink, it’s interesting how fear shapes our views and that it tends to take a very confident, knowledgeable person to show that sometimes the fear is just us needing to process childhood pain. It’s an interesting take and I love how the relationship develops between a much older, teacher Castiel and 18 y/o Dean.

Thunderstorm by @anyreiart

This is such a twist to the Omegaverse and the human Castiel. I had never thought of this and so glad someone did. It’s so quaint and domestic. Oh, the fluff is amazing. The connection these two have and how Dean is able to overcome his expectations as well as their relationship hiccups because of his Alpha, it’s beautiful. He even aids in guiding the newly human Castiel and new omega in the human world with his love. Yes, I’m a hopeless romantic.

Soother by @hartlessfiction

I was literally jumping up and down when Dean started arguing with Cas and Cas is so confused, then the pheromones hit. True mates. Just fluffy-fluff, schmoopy and adorable!

Cornerstone by @gracefreakdean

That’s a love story. That’s a true love story. Oh; I hope one day they write more. I’m in love with this beautiful, well-done story that begins like it could be anyone else’s.

Castiel Enjoys Enya by @naked-covered-in-bees

It’s fluffy and cute. Cas is not getting that it's what's on the tapes that Dean likes, not the tape itself but points out that it’s from him, which is why he likes it. I love how Claire explains and their relationship dynamic. Seems so spot on and so canon. I love all of this. It’s an adorable and quick read.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spnbabe67

Touch Me by @zepskies

As a bigger girl whose love language is physical touch, this hit home. My best friend and adopted sister came from a place where physical affection wasn't prominent so trying to get used to it on both our parts is so real in this writing. Dean's uncomfortableness with the reader's overabundance of physical contact, and the readers self self-consciousness while they are trying to go to sleep is such a real, raw, human thing. I loved this so much!

He's Not A Machine! by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

I love Stanford era!Dean and this is a scene I 100% know happened at one point. And on a biblical level I needed to have John be read a new one for the way he pushed and pushed Dean.

(Divider by @glygriffe)

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @heavenssexiestangel, and @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes!

[spnexploration]

A Christmas Case

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

Words: 1.1k

This is my submission for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa 2023 (ignore the fact it was posted in Jan 2024...) and is a gift for @apocalypseornaw ❤ Sorry for the delay!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Come on, we’ve got a case,” Dean said, shaking you awake.

“Fu’ offfff,” you grumbled at him. “You’re not allowed in my room.” What you’d really like was Dean to stay in your room permanently, maybe some ravishing… But that was never going to happen.

He chuckled, “Just channel that energy to the monster. We leave in twenty.”

---

You sulked in the backseat. It was December 23rd, why the hell were you off on a case? You’d put in a little bit of effort at the bunker, getting a tree and some dollar shop baubles. That was all for naught, now.

Dean caught sight of you in the rear-view mirror. “What’s up with you, princess? We interrupt your beauty sleep?” You didn’t appreciate his teasing.

“I don’t see why monsters couldn’t give us the bloody holidays off.”

“It’s just another day in our line of work, don’t know why you got your hopes up.”

You glared at him. “Yes, how could I, when known Scrooge, Dean Winchester, was going to be trawling for cases at 6am on Christmas Eve Eve.” It was his own damn fault he wouldn’t be getting the present you’d spent a lot of time choosing for him.

“Hey! I didn’t even find it!”

You turned your glare to Sam, “Got anything to say, Second Scrooge Winchester?”

“I just have some google alerts set up, sorry.”

You crossed your arms.

“You might have been expecting a bit too much from a Christmas at the Bunker anyway,” Dean said in a tone of voice as if he was trying to make you feel better. “We’re not very good at Christmases.”

You rolled your eyes and looked out the window. The boys decided to let you be.

---

You decided to keep a tally of how many people said something about the FBI making you work so close to Christmas: you were already up to 4 and it was only mid-afternoon on the first day. Happily the drive hadn’t been too long from the bunker to the crappy town where the case was, so you’d been able to get started straight away.

There was a giant Christmas tree in the main street of town. You felt like it was mocking you.

You dragged your feet as you followed the boys into the library, conveniently still open. You wondered if Dean even realised everything was going to be closed on Christmas Day. Serve him right if he couldn’t get pie that day.

You half-heartedly trawled some books, not really contributing to the research effort.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly as he came to sit by you. “I didn’t mean to ruin your holidays.”

“It’s alright,” you said, not really feeling it but not wanting to sound petty, either.

“I can tell you’re upset. Hell, even Dean can tell you’re upset.”

“You know, Dean’s better at reading people than people give him credit for,” you said, always quick to defend inappropriate criticism of Dean.

“Ok, you’re right, that was a low blow. But you’re still upset, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, solve the case fast enough and maybe we can do Christmas on Boxing Day at least.”

He gave your arm a friendly squeeze before standing up again and heading back to the shelves.

“I think I found it!” Dean called from somewhere. You stood to go find him.

---

It turned out to be a very quick case, over by late evening Christmas Eve. It was late enough that ordinarily you’d all head back to the motel room and go home early the next morning, but Dean suggested something different. “How about we head back to the bunker tonight, I’ll drive.”

“It’s pretty late,” Sam said, nursing a couple of injuries.

“You can sleep in the backseat until we get there. Won’t it be better to get to sleep in your own bed?”

“If you’re doing this for me, you don’t have to,” you said. “It’s fine, it’s just a stupid day. You don’t have to kill yourself driving late at night just for me.”

“No, come on, it’ll be nice to be back home.” He gave you that beautiful smile and you couldn’t help but melt.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Sam mumbled agreement and so you all piled into the Impala, Sam stretched out on the backseat. He was asleep almost instantly, and you weren’t too far behind.

---

“Hey, hey,” you woke to Dean whispering your name and gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You looked around blearily, this wasn’t the bunker. It looked like the middle of nowhere. You started to ask Dean, but he held up his hand.

“Shh, don’t wake Sam,” he said, still whispering. “Come out of the car for a sec, I’ll explain it all.”

You looked at him quizzically but followed, closing the door as quietly as you could behind yourself. Dean took your hand and pulled you around to the front of the car. Your heart was racing; this was different…

“I’m sorry Sam and I ruined the Christmas you had planned,” he said, standing very close to you. You looked up into his stunningly gorgeous face wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but knowing that he saw you like a little sister. “But I thought we could look for Santa delivering presents,” he said, gesturing to the huge expanse of the night sky you could see.

You laughed, “What am I, 7?”

“Well, ok, it doesn’t have to be Santa. But it’s a nice night for stargazing, and I wanted to make it up to you.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over your cheek. This was definitely new. You nodded in agreement and he took your hand again, pulling you up on to the top of the bonnet.

He scooted very close to you. You could feel his body heat, which was good in the freezing night air. You felt a wave of goosebumps break out over your skin, but you weren’t entirely sure if they were because of the cold or the proximity of Dean.

He reached behind him and grabbed a blanket you hadn’t seen was there, then put his arms around you and draped it across your shoulders. He was so close, so beautifully close. And yet, always so far.

He didn’t put his arms back down, like you were expecting.

He put a hand on your shoulder. What was he doing? He put his other hand on your cheek. So warm, so close. So... intimate.

You looked up into his big, green eyes.

He leaned in close.

Oh. Oh! This was happening!

His soft, Adonis-like lips were suddenly on yours. You closed your eyes and leant into the moment.

He pulled away, “Merry Christmas. Hope this makes up for having to be on the road.”

“Oh, this definitely makes up for it,” you said before capturing his lips again.

The stars looked down from above, forgotten.

.

.

.

Dean Winchester tag list:

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural tag list:

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

Spnfanficpond Dean Winchester x reader fluff tag list:

@babypieandwhiskey

@bkwrm523

@buckys-zomdoll

@canadianspnhunter

@cas-backwards-tie

@castieltrash1

@deanwanddamons

@ellewritesfix05

@emilyshurley

@emoryhemsworth

@firefly-in-darkness

@idreamofplaid

@ilovedean-spn2

@kalesrebellion

@katelyn--renee

@kayteonline

@kickingitwithkirk

@lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell

@manawhaat

@melbelle45

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@mysupernaturalfics

@notnaturalanahi

@plaidstiel-wormstache

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@there-must-be-a-lock

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing

@trend90s

@waywardjoy

@whispersandwhiskerburn

@akshi8278

@ssonia13

[eldritchlibertine]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Castiel

Summary: Something is forcing brutal honesty on a small town, and you and TFW head out to investigate the chaos. Unfortunately, when the truth curse forcing out every secret thought, you, Dean and Castiel might finally have to deal with all the unspoken tension no one will admit to feeling - if you don't die of embarrassment first. Sam, meanwhile, is having the time of his life watching this mess unfold.   

This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa gift for @dreamytfw

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Omfg, hotness. Cas so teasing Dean. The shorts are used. 😉

[walkingaline]

Handwritten Courage

Here we go!

For the first time, I participated in the @spnfanficpond Secret Santa exchange. This fluffy story about Dean, Cas and some lovely secrets they found in the bunker, is for @pimentogirl. I hope you enjoy it!

As always, you can get a snippet here. Full tagging, word count and more, on my AO3.

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

The polished, tiled walls of the Men of Letters bunker had seen many, many things. Secrets had been whispered in the corners and monsters had been dragged in and out, in various states of their lives. The Wicked Witch of the West and the King of Hell had seen them. At least two different Knights of Hell had walked around. The list was impressive enough without mentioning the angels, archangels, Scribes, prophets, or Amara and God themselves.

Still, there was one thing that those walls couldn’t do. Dean Winchester, the legendary legacy and former-reluctant-Chosen-One had just found out about it.

Keep reading

[xpurdyglambertx]

🎄Merry Christmas!🎄

New holiday fic is LIVE!

Jensen has had a rough go at life this past year between his family falling apart and healing after the accident. This Christmas, his family's church is caroling for charity, and when Jensen is grouped with some bullies from school, his night goes from bad to worse.

Well... that is until his college professor steps in and saves the day. ;-)

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J2 omegaverse AU! With subby Jensen and big burly Jared! A gift for one of my best friends, @samanddean76 , for the SPN Fan Fic Pond's Secret Santa event! Everything she loves swirled into one smutty, jolly fic!

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"Easy pup," the alpha mutters, his hand still gently massaging the omega's nape. "I can smell you, you know. I can tell how much you like this. How much you like me." "I'm sorry," Jensen murmurs, his thick lashes parting as his eyes flicker open to meet the alpha's, his expression cloaked in lust. "I've never felt... this, before. I- I feel like I'm drowning but... it's not scary." Jared can't help but smile gently, his eyes tracing the omega's features, taking in every small detail from the freckles dotting his cheek to the way his eyes gleam with a mixture of fear and arousal. "It's just your instincts, omega. We're supposed to respond to each other, supposed to connect."

[zepskies]

Gotta say, I'm really loving this Enemies to Lovers pin!

Thanks so much @spnfanficpond @mrswhozeewhatsis for this little present! It matches my aesthetic lol, and even though it's not an SPN fic, it also reps Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader) pretty perfectly. 🥰💚🌹

The rest of these were just icing on the cake!

(Except for the lotus incense holder lol. That one was a Marshalls find. 😜)

[dreamytfw]

The Body

Characters: Castiel, Sam Winchester, Meg

Pairings: Cas/Meg/Sam, Cas/Sam, Cas/Meg

Summary: Meg possesses Sam to have sex with Castiel

Word Count: 6,559

Content Warning: Dubious consent and non-consent. Castiel's consent is very dubious and Sam is not a willing participant. Meg does not understand consent because demon, but she's trying you guys.

Notes: Written as a Secret Santa for @autisticandroids! Merry Winter and a Happy New Year!!

This is my first time writing Meg! Also I hand wrote a lot of this fic on my tablet, which doesn't always play nice with my handwriting, so there might be a lot of typos.

Read on AO3

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Castiel didn't look up from the backpack he was filling lore books with as the door to the motel room opened, shut, and locked behind him. There was no need. It was just Sam coming back from taking their dinner's garbage out to the dumpster at the far end of the parking lot. Even in his weakened state with waning stolen grace, Castiel didn't need to eat. But after hitting yet another dead end while tracking down his grace, Sam suggested getting burgers to go from a local diner in an attempt to lift the angel's spirits. It hadn't worked, but it was a pleasant distraction and a kind gesture. Sam was always ready with a kind gesture when Castiel needed one.

He was caught off-guard, then, when he felt Sam's large hands close firmly around his shoulders and his tall form pull itself flush against Castiel's back.

"Sam? Wha–"

"Shhh," Sam's breath was hot against Castiel's skin as the younger Winchester nosed at the angel's neck. "You don't have to say anything. Just let me take care of you, Cas."

Something was wrong. Aside from Sam's sudden forwardness, he sounded… off. Something in his voice and presence was different. Castiel couldn't quite place what it was, but it was simultaneously wrong and strangely familiar.

"Sam, what's going on?" Castiel asked, dropping the book he'd been holding on the bed before attempting to turn around. Sam held him firm, though.

"Don't turn around," there was a sudden edge to Sam's tone as he nipped at Castiel's neck in both a warning and promise of things to come. But just as sudden as it came into his voice, the edge softened back to a saccharine tenderness. "It'll feel better if you close your eyes. Having less to look at lets you focus more on where I'm touching you."

Castiel swallowed hard, his mind reeling as Sam wrapped one strong arm around his chest, his other hand ghosting down across Castiel's stomach then dipping down to just under the waistline of his pants to very slowly pull his tucked shirt out. This wasn't like the hunter. 

As caring and sweet as Sam was, he nearly always shied away from showing any form of physical affection. The most contact they'd ever made were strictly platonic hugs. There were moments where Castiel wanted more – to reach across the table and place his hand over Sam's while they silently read, to gently cup his face and press his lips to his forehead in reassurance while healing him after a hunt, to stay in the other man's bed when he turned in for the night and keep watching Netflix while the younger Winchester slept quietly beside him. And there were times when he could swear that Sam wanted the same small gestures of physical intimacy as well. 

But there was always just enough doubt in the angel's mind to keep him from reaching out and taking things to the next level. Sam would look away after a long gaze or put physical distance between the two of them after standing close to each other while doing research for a case. Sometimes he would leave the room completely if Dean was around, which always stung something awful.

Sam wouldn't initiate intimate physical contact like this.

"Wait a moment," Castiel grabbed at Sam's wrists, attempting to ignore the goosebumps rising on his skin at the feeling of Sam's lips behind his ear. "I think this is something we should talk about before–"

"You think too much, Cas," Sam chuckled before licking a stripe up the angel's neck. His arms stayed wrapped firmly around Castiel's form. "Just enjoy this. When was the last time someone made you feel good, hm? Let me do this for you. Or to you. Whatever."

"This isn't like you," Castiel shuddered, still attempting and failing to extricate himself from Sam's arms. It didn't make sense. While it was true that Castiel was closer to human than angel at the moment, he should still be many times stronger than any human. Sam shouldn't be able to hold him like this.

"Isn't it?" Sam breathed in his ear, his lower hand working to nimbly unbutton Cas's shirt now that it was completely freed from his waistband. "You sure? We haven't been alone a lot like this. Maybe you just don't know me as well as you think you do. I don't know about you, but I'd like to fix that. Truth be told, I've wanted to fix that for a long time."

Castiel swallowed and closed his eyes, attempting to focus on the presence behind him. No matter how much he tried to concentrate, he couldn't place the strange Sam-but-not-Sam feeling. Of course, the way Sam's hand was dragging over and groping at his torso wasn't helping any, the warm pressure sending shivers up Castiel's spine.

He needed to be smart about this. Because he didn't know what he was dealing with, he didn't know if something was controlling Sam's mind and body or if this was a simple facsimile. Which means he didn't know if he could use force to get out of this situation. Mind control or not, Castiel refused to raise a hand against Sam.

"I, I think I would like that as well," Castiel sighed out, choosing his words carefully. "But not like this. We should… I want us to take our time. Do this properly. I want to be able to look at you while, uh, becoming more intimately acquainted."

Sam paused behind him, clearly needing to think about his next step.

"Sam, please."

Sam sighed out and shook his head while he resumed opening the angel's shirt. "I never knew you were so sentimental."

"I thought for sure you would be."

Sam hummed in thought and Castiel watched as his hand gripped his tie.

"Maybe we could compromise," Sam murmured.

Castiel didn't have time to ask what he meant before Sam was pulling his tie free from his collar. The next thing he knew, Sam was securing it around his eyes with his free hand and teeth, blindfolding him. Which meant whatever was controlling or imitating Sam didn't want Castiel to see his face. 

"I won't be able to look at you like this," Castiel protested, attempting to reach up and pull the tie from around his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as Sam's hands wrapped firmly around his wrists.

"I told you," Sam growled. The dark, warning edge in his voice was back. "It'll feel better if you can't see."

"But I want to see you," Castiel pleaded while Sam turned Castiel around to face him, hoping he sounded more sincerely longing than desperately trying to talk his way out of Sam's arms. "You're an attractive man. It would be a shame to not be able to see you at your most intimate."

"So you like to watch, is that it?" Castiel heard the smirk on Sam's lips before feeling it tease at the corner of his mouth. He pursed his lips, not wanting to give whatever this was the opportunity to shove Sam's tongue down his throat. Not when he was certain he could still talk his way out of this. 

"Look at that blush," Sam teased while peppering Castiel's face with kisses, his voice dropping half an octave with arousal. "I'm gonna take that as a big 'hell yes.' Gotta admit, the thought of you touching this heavenly body of yours while I get off? Let's just say it's going straight to my head."

Sam's hands were suddenly on Castiel's ass, pulling their hips flush to one another's. Cas's mouth fell open in a silent gasp at the feeling of Sam's hard girth against his own semi and he couldn't help his mouth from watering.

"Thought you'd like that, angel," Sam purred, one hand leaving Castiel's rear to press his head into Sam's shoulder.

"Please," Castiel whimpered. He braced his hands against Sam's chest as the other man groped his ass and rocked their hips together. He sincerely hoped this was something imitating Sam instead of something controlling the hunter's body. He didn't want Sam to find out about his feelings for him like this. Regardless of whether or not Sam reciprocated, he was sure it would destroy the trust and friendship they'd built up over the years. His mind reeled from both the fear of loss and a cloud of lust, both over the same man whose body was being used against him.

"God, you're so pretty when you beg," Sam said above him. His hips stilled against Castiel's, and the whine of protest had barely left Castiel's throat before he felt himself pushed back against the bed, the backpack full of lore books falling to the floor with a heavy thud.

"Tell me what you want, angel," Sam cooed as he crawled onto the bed, looming over Castiel. "I'll do my damndest to make all your dreams come true."

Castiel was frozen in place, his overcoat fanned out across the bed with his chest bare to the cool air of the motel room. He gaped, quietly panting as his brain refused to process what he'd just caught a glimpse of. His tie had slipped just enough for him to peek beneath it when he was shoved to the bed.

" Meg ?"

Sam's form sat back up from Castiel but didn't stand, his hips still pressed against the angel's. He heard the "tch" of teeth sucking while he reached up and tore the tie off. The moment he saw Sam, there was no mistaking it. He could clearly see Meg's face laid over Sam's like a gossamer mask.

"Well, guess that cat's out of the bag," Meg sneered with Sam's face above him. "Hey Clarence. Miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you."

"I don't understand. How are you possessing Sam?"

"You know as well as I do how fragile warding can be," Meg pulled the collar of Sam's undershirt aside just enough to show a long gash cutting through Sam's anti-possession tattoo, marring it and rendering it useless.

"Leave him. Now ."

"You really know how to make a girl feel welcome, don't you?" Meg reached down with Sam's hands and started trailing their fingers across Castiel's chest. He tried not to shudder or enjoy the sensation.

"Get out of him, or I'll–"

"You'll what?" Meg scoffed, tweaking one of Cas's semi-erect nipples. "You won't hurt me. Not while I'm wearing everyone's favorite meat suit. From the looks of things, you don't have the juice to spare for a smiting, even if you were okay with damaging Sammy's fine packaging."

" Deus, et Pater Domini nostri Iesu Christi –"

Sam's body lurched and snarled above him as Castiel began one of the highest rites of exorcism before Meg clamped one of Sam's hands over his mouth, pressing his head into the mattress so hard he could feel pressure behind his eyes.

"You'd really do that?" Meg demanded, clearly hurt and furious. "You'd really send me back to fucking Hell? Back to Crowley and his lackeys to be tortured for who the fuck knows how long?"

All Castiel could do was glare up at Meg. He could have sworn she knew better than to attempt something like this. Despite still caring for her against his better judgement, their history meant nothing together if she was going to endanger the Winchesters. He thought he'd made that abundantly clear years ago. 

Meg returned his glare for several moments before Sam's features settled into a sly smirk. She took his free hand and reached into Castiel's coat, taking out his angel blade.

"Try that shit again. I dare you," she warned, taking Sam's hand off of Castiel's mouth. Castiel didn't dare move as she raised the blade to Sam's wrist.

"You should know I would gladly burn through whatever grace I have left to keep Sam Winchester alive."

Meg threw Sam's head back and barked out a laugh before looking back at Castiel, sincerely amused.

"Oh, that's adorable! You think I'm threatening to kill him? Clarence, you should know better by now there are far worse things I could do to precious little Sammy Winchester. Things that would leave him begging for death long after I leave his body."

Castiel squinted at Meg questioningly before his eyes widened in horrific understanding as she made a shallow cut on Sam's wrist and held it centimeters away from the hunter's lips.

"Don't!"

"There's my clever Cas," Meg grinned. "Try that exorcism shit again, and I'll get Mr Blood Freak so high on his own supply, he won't come down for weeks."Dean-o will have no choice but to lock him up and throw away the key, leaving him all alone with all those fun hallucinations of Lucifer himself."

"What do you want?"

Sam's features softened into a wistful smile, and Castiel was certain that if Meg's features were capable of such tenderness, her expression would match Sam's perfectly.

"I told you, Clarence," Meg moved so Sam's body was once again looming over Castiel, bumping their foreheads together. "I missed you. And I heard you weren't doing so hot, so I thought I'd come cheer you up."

"How benevolent of you," Castiel deadpanned. "Though, I must admit, I don't see how harming and possessing Sam aids your quest for intimacy."

"Thought I'd spice things up for all of us," Meg shrugged. "We both know what fucking feels like in my usual duds. And while it's all that and a bag of chips, I'm curious how it feels in one of my old outfits."

"Excuse me?"

Sam's expression turned quizzical before Meg rolled his eyes with realization.

"Guess neither of the Hardy Boys ever told you. Figures."

"Told me what?"

"This isn't the first time I've worn Sam Winchester chique," Meg grinned triumphantly. "I'm the whole reason the two of them got those annoying anti-demon tats in the first place."

Castiel wasn't sure if he was grateful for the result or disgusted by how proud she looked about her possessions of the younger Winchester.

"Anyway," Meg continued, "Poor Sammy boy's been nursing a crush on you for years, and I figured possessing someone who wants to fuck you was better than someone who didn't even know you. That whole consent thing people are so gaga about these days."

Castiel gaped, not sure where to start.

"That's… not how consent works. That aside…" Castiel trailed off, his eyes sliding away from Meg's black eyes and Sam's hazel ones. He instinctively knew Meg was telling the truth, but he didn't want to let himself believe her. The elation of reciprocation threatening to fill his chest wasn't Meg's to claim. They'd already had their own version of that while Cas was hospitalized. He'd had a string of particularly bad days and she'd stayed by his side until he was lucid again. He came out of one of his episodes to find her holding his hand, and Castiel knew Meg cared for him; as much as a demon could care, anyway. What Castiel felt when he realized Meg cared for him was warm and peaceful. This light, giddy feeling that pressed against his heart was reserved for Sam alone.

Sam's hand found its way into Cas's hair as Meg brought her lips back to Castiel's neck.

"Don't tell me you didn't know," she purred in his ear, sucking on the angel's earlobe. "I noticed it the first time I saw you two together. He wants you bad , hot wings. And so do I."

Castiel gripped at the comforter beneath him as Meg ground Sam's still prominent erection down against his own. As tempting as her proposition was, Castiel would never forgive himself if he yielded and took advantage of Sam like that. Even worse, he knew Sam would never forgive him either. The only way he could let himself touch Sam while Meg possessed him was to push them away. And he was sure his hands would betray him if he tried to push Sam's body off of him right now.

"I know Sam," Castiel said through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to not enjoy the feeling of Sam's body over his. "Even if he does want me like you say he does, he wouldn't want this."

"Hm, maybe, maybe not," Meg hummed as she nibbled at the pulse point of Castiel's neck. "Guess we won't know until after."

"Meg," Castiel warned.

"Come on , Clarence! I risked my neck jumping these bones so I could jump yours. Stop thinking about everyone else for once and try being a little selfish."

"The last time I did something selfish, I committed a genocide in Heaven and unleashed the Leviathan unto the world."

"That was business," Meg dragged Sam's lips down to lavish Castiel's collar bone with affection. "I'm talking pleasure. You know, fun."

"I told you," Castiel rolled his eyes, attempting to angle his head to look at Meg. "I would have no problem enjoying your company in your usual vessel. This, however…"

Castiel felt Sam's mouth frown against his skin before Meg sat the hunter's body up, their faces drawn in frustration.

"Now Cas, don't tell me you're gonna make me make my own fun," Meg held up Sam's still bleeding wrist for Castiel to see. A cold terror swept through him at the thought of Meg forcing Sam to relapse, followed by a dull nausea at the realization that if she did, it would be because Castiel didn't comply with her request.

"Fine," Castiel sighed out, lifting himself up onto his elbows. "But we need to establish some rules for this tryst."

"I'm all ears, blue eyes."

Castiel narrowed his eyes up at Meg before his gaze drifted to the far wall in thought. He needed to thread this needle very carefully.

"Absolutely no penetration of any orifice. We have no lube or prophylactics, and my grace isn't strong enough to ease the process or heal the damage after," Castiel began. He wasn't lying: there really weren't any supplies in the room, none that he knew of, anyway. That wasn't his primary motivation, however. He was aware on some level of Sam's history with sexual trauma. Even if his hallucinations of Lucifer hadn't painstakingly reenacted everything he did to Sam in the cage, it didn't take much of a logical leap to figure out the generalizations. He couldn't do that to Sam, and he would not have Sam feeling like he violated Castiel.

"Boring, but fine," Meg rolled Sam's eyes. "What's next? No kissing on the lips?"

"It hadn't crossed my mind, but it's not a bad idea."

"Oh, honey, we've really got to socialize you better," Meg smiled lazily. "I was making a joke."

"Regardless, I still think it's not a bad idea."

"Guess I shot myself in the foot there, huh?"

"Next," Castiel continued, "We will not have skin-to-skin genital contact. Again, no prophylactics."

"You really don't have to worry about catching anything, Cas," Meg sighed, clearly getting frustrated. "I promise you, Sam's clean as a whistle."

Castiel merely glared at Meg, daring her to challenge him further. He continued on when she held up Sam's hands in quiet surrender.

"Finally, and most importantly: you leave Sam and return to your usual vessel immediately upon completion and you never do something like this again."

"Don't worry your pretty little halo about that," Meg purred, taking the opportunity to strip Sam of his shirts. "I told you, this was just to shake things up a little. No way am I stupid enough to try and permanently take up residence in a Winchester."

"But you're reckless enough to temporarily possess him for intercourse?" Castiel couldn't help but tease, slipping his arms out of his top layers before tossing his shirt and blazer to the side.

"Exactly," Meg giggled, running Sam's hands over his long, broad torso. Castiel watched, mesmerized. It was no secret that Sam took care of his body, and this was far from the first time Cas had seen the man without a shirt. But to actually have that body above him now, giving itself the most intimate of pleasure was hypnotizing. He hadn't often imagined Sam like this. Not for any lack of want, but because oftentimes he didn't need to fantasize about Sam in sexual situations. Thinking of him as is was usually enough for Castiel. The times he had imagined Sam debauched, however, could never compare to the reality that knelt over him right now.

Meg ran a hand over one of Sam's nipples and Castiel's mouth went dry at the way she made him bite his lip and the hum of pleasure that went straight between Castiel's legs. He watched transfixed as Meg ran one of Sam's hands down across his chest, over his abs, and across his hips before starting to slowly work at his belt. Once the buckle was undone, but before removing the belt, Meg traveled Sam's hand lower to grope the prominent bulge in his pants, his knuckles brushing against Castiel's own suddenly much heavier erection. 

Guilt and arousal were two emotions Castiel wasn't accustomed to feeling at the same time and he found it strange. He didn't want to do this to Sam. But if he didn't acquiesce to Meg's advances, she would do something far more damaging to the younger Winchester. Castiel did not want to enjoy this. But at the same time, seeing Sam's body aroused and wanting like this did nothing but make Castiel want him. And the more Castiel wanted him, the guiltier he felt for being forced to betray him. It was a vicious cycle that went round and round without end, forming a whirlwind of nauseous desire connecting Castiel's stomach and genitals.

All he could do was hope Sam forgave him.

"So how do you wanna do this?" Meg asked as Sam slid his belt out of its loops and tossed it aside. "I'm gonna guess hand jobs since you said blowies and proper fucking were off-limits."

Castiel licked his lips as Meg opened Sam's fly, wishing the visual didn't make his cock twitch in his uncomfortably tight pants.

"No. I, I thought it would be nice to watch each other," Castiel could barely string the sentence together, too distracted by the wet spot on the front of Sam's boxer briefs and the feelings it brought to both his heads.

"You saying you don't want to touch me, baby? After all this time?" Meg pouted, reaching down with Sam's hands and palming at Castiel's chest. Castiel shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself enjoy the warmth of Sam's skin on his, whimpering as Meg pressed a thumb across one of Castiel's nipples.

"It's not you I would be touching, Meg," Castiel sighed out and grabbed Sam's wrists, opening his eyes and looking at Meg with a mixture of regret and resentment.

"Well that's just not true. You touch this body, you're touching me."

"No, I'm touching Sam ."

"Yeah, but I'm feeling it, so what's the difference?" Meg shrugged Sam's shoulders.

Castiel pursed his lips, trying to think of a way to make her understand. Or, if not that, then at least drop the subject and follow his lead.

"It's not the same as your other vessel," Castiel loosened his grip on Sam's wrists and slowly ran his hands up his arms. "The soul of the woman you possessed moved on to the next life a long time ago. Her body became yours, much like how Jimmy Novak's body became mine. Sam, however, is still in his body. And his is nothing like yours.

"Sam's body is large, hard, and angular," Castiel continued. His hands reached Sam's shoulders and slid down his chest, over his stomach, and around his waist as he spoke, his actions echoing his words. "Yours however, is smaller, softer, and full of curves. It's enticing in ways Sam's isn't. The softness of your lips and breasts, the dip of your waist and back, the shape of your thighs and arms; your body is temptation and deliverance all in one. Most importantly, I know your body. I know exactly where to touch and when to elicit whatever response I desire. I do not have that luxury with Sam's body."

"So you just want this to be good for me, is that it?" Meg gasped as she palmed Sam's erection with one of his hands, the other still on Castiel's chest. Based on her tone of voice and the blush covering Sam's cheeks and chest, Castiel could tell he was pushing her more towards compliance than understanding. It was always frustrating when Meg couldn't understand what he was trying to communicate, but there are just some things demons and angels will never understand about one another. He could probably explain his stance for hours and she still couldn't (or wouldn't) understand his viewpoint on this, because, when it came down to it, she was focused on what she felt regardless of what form she was in.

"I suppose that's one way of putting it."

"There's one problem with us watching each other," Meg sighed, moving back to stand Sam up to strip him completely. "I want you to touch me so bad."

Castiel sat up fully, his eyes involuntarily raking over Sam's form, unconsciously licking his lips as he eyed Sam's thick, leaking cock and thought about what it would feel like on his tongue.

"I can think of a solution to that," he said breathlessly as Meg began to slowly fist Sam's erection. "Sit on the bed."

Castiel stood as Meg eagerly obeyed, quickly stripping himself bare before kneeling in front of them.

"Thought you said no blow jobs?" Meg quirked Sam's eyebrow.

"I did. That's not what I'm doing," Castiel stated, rubbing his hands on the inside of Sam's thighs, parting them to accommodate his form.

"Then what–?"

"I'm going to watch you bring yourself to completion," Castiel explained, nuzzling his head low on the inside of Sam's thigh before leaning against it. "And I'm going to pleasure myself while I watch you from this vantage point. And I would very much enjoy having your fingers in my mouth during the process."

"Blow job without actually blowing me," Meg reached forward and cupped Castiel's chin, running Sam's thumb over his lips. "I'm game."

Castiel kissed Sam's thumb before Meg replaced it with Sam's index and middle fingers. Castiel had never felated someone before, but he'd watched humanity long enough to have an idea of how to imitate one. He lowered his eyes to Sam's hand and started gently kissing and licking at his fingers, alternating between quick short laps and broad flat licks up the length of Sam's fingers. Meg sighed above him and he saw her resume pumping Sam out of the corner of his eye. Castiel closed his eyes and sighed as he loosely gripped his throbbing cock, swirling his thumb over his head and smearing precum down his length to ease his own stimulation. He continued to lick, kiss, and suck at Sam's fingers until Meg was whimpering and moaning above him and he could feel Sam's thigh trembling against the side of his head.

He slipped the tips of Sam's fingers into his mouth and groaned around them. Castiel gripped himself tighter as his cock jerked and wept precum in earnest at the feeling of Sam's digits pressing a taste entirely unique to the hunter onto the angel's tongue. Sam's fingers were thick enough to give Castiel some idea of what it could be like to have Sam's cock stretching his mouth and twitching on his tongue. Even if Sam never forgave him for this and decided to permanently cut all ties with him, at least he would know what it felt like to have his lips on some part of Sam, the hunter's scent of old paperbacks and sage flooding his senses. He could almost pretend it was actually Sam he was pleasing.

"God, Clarence, you look so good with your lips wrapped around me."

Almost.

Castiel opened his eyes and watched Meg watch him as he pulled back and incrementally made his way down Sam's fingers, his lips never breaking contact. By the time Castiel made it all the way down Sam's fingers, Meg was swearing in Latin, a sure sign she was close. Apparently having Sam's fingers sucked was doing as much for her as it was for Castiel.

"Fuck me, those eyes ," was all Meg could sigh out before tipping Sam's head back. His eyes shut and mouth gaped in bliss as Meg pumped his leaking member hard and fast. Hitched breaths and short, whining moans flowed from Sam's throat into Castiel's ears, swirling into the whirlpool of shame and arousal in the pit of the angel's stomach and pushing him to the precipice of bliss.

He let out a pleading groan around Sam's fingers, sucking them into him until he could feel them at the back of his throat. He'd never been so grateful that angels lacked a gag reflex in all his life. The taste and feel of Sam inside him, the look of concupiscence on his and Meg's faces, and firmness of Castiel's own grip as he matched his rhythm with Meg's long and fast strokes made Castiel's head swim in a haze of heat and aching, yearning pleasure. It was better than he could have imagined. It wasn't enough. All he needed was a gentle nudge to fall into oblivion, and Meg knew from their previous liaisons exactly what would tip him over the edge.

"Oh god , Castiel!"

And there it is. Castiel's eyes shut of their own accord as his climax washed over him, his body shuddering as he spilled into and over his own hand, using his cum to lubricate himself and continue his stimulation. He was determined to milk this orgasm for all it was worth.

He was distantly aware of Sam's voice above him, but his brain was too clouded with pleasure to process anything Meg was saying. He was starting to come down when he heard a low, choked moan above him and felt a warm wetness streak across his chest and collar bones. Castiel's 2nd orgasm hit him like a punch, catching him off-guard. All he could do was grip himself just below his head while he spilled again, his jaw completely slack around Sam's fingers and his toes splayed.

The 2nd climax was intense, but shorter than the first, and it didn't take Castiel long to come crashing back to reality. Shame began to rapidly overcome the lust he'd felt for Meg and Sam. It was one thing to indulge Meg like this. Castiel didn't have a choice with the way she threatened Sam's sobriety and well-being. But for Castiel to enjoy that indulgence? He didn't ever see Sam forgiving such a grievous offense.

He heard Meg sigh out in satisfaction and felt her pull Sam's fingers from his mouth to cup his chin. Castiel didn't dare move. He couldn't even bring himself to open his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look at what he'd done.

"Oh, Clarence, why the long face?" Meg cooed, pressing Sam's lips to the angel's forehead. "You looked like you were having a grand time."

"Yes," Castiel muttered. "That's precisely the problem."

They sat there in silence for a few moments, the only sounds in the room coming from the small analogue clock on the nightstand and the rush of highway traffic several hundred feet in the distance.

"Hey," Castiel felt Sam's hands cup his face, giving him another moment where he could almost pretend it actually was Sam. Castiel opened his eyes to see Sam's face staring down tenderly at him with Meg's features straining to do the same. "There's no shame in enjoying what we just did. I wanted you to like it."

Castiel simply pursed his lips in response. He knew there was only the slimmest of chances he could make her understand why he felt disgusted with himself, and it certainly wasn't going to happen when Meg was trying to enjoy and get Castiel to enjoy their afterglow. 

Meg frowned when Castiel didn't reply, running Sam's hand through his long hair while sighing in frustration.

"Listen, you and Sam have been gaga for each other for a while now. I heard through the grapevine you weren't doing so great, and I missed you. I thought this would be a win for everyone. I was trying to help."

Castiel sighed, his expression turning sadly sympathetic. While it may have come too late for Castiel's tastes, he could tell there was some part of Meg that did feel remorse over this. Knowing her, she likely only felt bad for upsetting Castiel, but it was still more remorse than most demons ever felt about their actions, and it was the closest Meg was going to get to apologizing.

"I have no doubt you were, in your own way," Castiel wiped his cum-covered hand on the carpet before taking both of Sam's hands in his own, kissing the backs of them while keeping his eyes trained on the two faces above him. "And I would be lying if I said I didn't appreciate the thought behind this. However…"

"You'd rather have me in my body," Meg finished. That wasn't what Castiel was going to say, but it was a start.

"That's part of it, yes. But more than that…" Castiel trailed off as Meg's and Sam's faces fell even further. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't think now is an opportune time for this conversation. We had an agreement that you would vacate Sam's body once we were done."

"Cas, we can still–"

"And," Castiel cut her off. "This is a conversation I would prefer to have privately with no 3rd parties."

"You coulda just said that first," Meg rolled Sam's eyes, pulling a small smile from Castiel. 

Meg sighed and looked around the room for a moment.

"Well, guess I'll see you around Castiel."

"Wait," Castiel stood between Sam is still spread legs and walked to where he'd discarded his clothes. "Could you dress Sam before leaving him? I'm certain he'll want some modesty after what just happened."

"If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask."

"Meg," Castiel warned as he pulled on his boxers and pants.

"I was just teasing, relax," Meg responded before going over to Sam's clothes and complying with Castiel's request. He turned from her while the both re-dressed. The least he could do for Sam was not leer at him as his body was covered back up.

Castiel finished dressing first and moved to wait by the door for Meg. It didn't take long for her to join him.

"So, you wanna go have that conversation now?" she asked, watching Castiel open the door for her before leaning against the frame.

"No. I think it's best for me to stay with Sam for now." Castiel was too worried about Sam and how he was reacting to not stay with him. "We could meet back here in a week if that's amenable to you." 

"It's a date," Meg learned Sam down and kissed Castiel on the cheek. "See you soon, lover boy. You and Sam have fun."

She stood and turned Sam towards the motel's parking lot before leaving the hunter, a cloud of black smoke billowing out of his mouth and into the night. 

Sam slumped against the doorframe, bracing himself against it before Castiel could catch and support him. He stared at Cas wide-eyed for a moment while getting his bearings, a mixture of fear, heartbreak, and dread. Castiel wished Sam would lash out and punch him. It would hurt less than the look he was giving him.

"Sam…"

Sam didn't say anything before turning and fleeing into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. The next thing Castiel heard was retching.

Castiel spent the next two hours painstakingly cleaning the motel room (after breaking into the janitorial closet for supplies) and finishing the packing he'd started after dinner. He could at least make the room look like nothing had happened. The shower ran nearly the entire time. Every now and then, Castiel would look at the bathroom door, unsettled by the lack of sound on the other side, and wonder if he should knock and check on Sam. Then he would hear more retching or a stifled sob and think better of it.

Castiel was seated at the foot of his bed staring at an open book without reading it when Sam emerged from the bathroom. He looked awful. He was pale and shaking. It was obvious he'd been crying, his eyes swollen and red. He'd broken blood vessels from vomiting, the pin pricks of red spotting across his face and largely concentrated around the corners of his eyes. The worst part was the hollow, defeated look in his eyes.

Sam and Castiel stared one another for several long moments. Castiel didn't know what to say. What could he say? He knew every single human language, but he couldn't think of a single word that could possibly bring any comfort to the man standing in front of him. Perhaps the best thing for Sam right now was space.

"I can go if you want me to." Castiel closed his book, bracing himself for Sam to shun him.

What he didn't expect was for Sam to shake his wet head.

"I don't. You don't need to…" Sam trailed off, his gaze fixed on the floor. "You can stay."

Casttel looked away from Sam. He couldn't stand how broken he looked, the knowledge that he had a hand in breaking him hurting so bad he couldn't bear it. Several more long moments stretched between them in silence.

"I don't know how to start talking about what happened," Castiel admitted, running a hand down his face.

"You have time to figure it out," Sam is voice sounded just as hollow and distant as he looked. "I can't… I don't think I could talk about it right now if I tried. But you should know: I don't blame you. I know you did what you had to in order to keep me safe."

"Sam," Castiel started to protest while looking up at him in shock, but Sam shook his head. Castiel watched him as he moved to his bed and began turning it down, his movements stiff and robotic.

"That was all I wanted to say. I don't have the energy for anything else right now. And I might not for another couple of days. But if you could still be here when I wake up…"

"Of course, Sam," Castiel answered gently. He watched the other man get into bed, jeans and all, his back pointedly turned towards Castiel. "Anything you think may help, just ask. It's yours."

"I know. I… I'll be okay. I just need some sleep first. We can figure the rest out in the morning."

"Understood. Would you like me to turn the lights off?"

"No, I'm fine. Goodnight, Cas." 

"Goodnight, Sam," Castiel sighed, turning back to his book. It was going to be a very long journey back to the bunker.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Snow Globes and Forgiveness

Summary: Even though Chucks no longer creating the narrative, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something goes wrong.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3194

Warnings: wincest, cursing, m/m kissing, frottage, my attempt at flangst

For: @thepromiscuousduck @spnfanficpond Secret Santa exchange 2023

A/N: set after 15.19 & in this AU 15.20 doesn’t happen

A/N II: Apologies to all other participants for taking so long. Between a last minute switch, couldn’t rewrite until after new year & had a rebound of a bad respiratory virus that’s keep me mostly offline last few weeks.

A/N III: once again, brevity doesn’t exist in my vocabulary

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*gif credit to creator

Sam Winchester has never been big on the holidays.

Let’s start with a specific Halloween party and his disastrous bobbing for apples incident involving a girl he liked. Then there was that one Thanksgiving he’d been invited to by another girl who turned out to have hands like an octopus and spent the whole dinner, as his brother so eloquently put it, playing footsie with brace-face, not three feet from her dad.

Not to mention, others celebrated, or not, Winchester style; his dad either missed it entirely or showed up with a bucket of extra crispy from the colonel and passed out on a couch. The best was that one Christmas before Dean went to hell a few months later.

But this year was going to be different.

They’d been adjusting to normality reasonably well. Okay, so Dean is the one adjusting better in some respects and said since it’s the brothers' first non-Chuck Christmas, they had to make it extra special. Sam knows this was Dean’s way of trying to make up for all the shitty holidays during their childhood. And knowing his brother, he’s envisioning emulating Mrs. Butters, the wood nymph they accidentally released in the bunker, Jam Packed holiday extravaganza she’d done those few weeks before leaving.

While Dean was getting the tree (Sam would’ve bet more likely grabbing the first one he saw before hitting the liquor store), he sent Sam to pick out ornaments. Sam was trying to make an effort and found himself standing in the middle of a smaller retail chain store's Christmas section, overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices and feeling like a freak for not knowing what to get outside lights and colorful balls.

“First Christmas together?”

Sam’s head swiveled around, “Umm, I’m sorry?” The person who spoke said, “You’ve got that whole I’ve got no freaking idea what I’m doing look, so I took a guess it’s your first Christmas with your girlfriend…wife?”

“Uh, no, no girlfriend or wife.”

“Ahh, boyfriend.” Sam was about to correct their assumption when they continued, “That can be trickery,” and gave him the once over. “I’m guessing he’s not into frills and bows. You should head to the Christmas Market two blocks south of here. There are always booths selling unique or vintage items for the Holiday. Probably find something more appealing than this mass-produced crap.”

After one more glance, Sam thanked them and texted Dean where to meet up with him later, then headed out of the storefront and strolled down the street. He soon hears jolly holiday music and smells enticing scents wafting before entering the colorfully illuminated European style Market and is hit with the sense he’d been here before.

Sam shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Of course, he’d never been here before, but something about this place kept nagging at his memories of familiarity when the irresistible scent of hot, minty chocolate beckoned. After indulging in a creamy, decadent drink decorated with a soft peppermint stick, he walked around, taking in the wares for sale.

At one booth, he found strands of original bubble lights and instantly knew they’d appeal to Dean and his oft-denied inner child; another yielded hand-strung garlands and got popcorn and cranberry ones with instructions on storing them for future use. Sometime later, Sam is laden with so many packages and bags that even his long arms are having trouble juggling them when he sees an elderly woman seated by a table with a simple stand of lights.

The hunter in him was always looking for anything unusual which fit the bill. Smiling politely at the woman when approaching, Sam studied the few antique-looking items and decided they seemed innocuous and relaxed. He spotted an old snow globe, picked it up, and sardonically smiled at how it looked diminutive in his large hand and began examining it.

Sam took time to appreciate its craftsmanship. Its base was silver with hand-worked engravings and an inscription in a language he didn’t recognize. Giving it a shake, Sam watched the artificial snow gently drift over a scene of a log cabin snugly ensconced among evergreens and bare-limbed trees. He got that feeling again. Impulsively, he asked how much he was surprised not to have to haggle over the price.

Carefully taking the globe in her gnarled hands, the woman told Sam that it was crafted in the country of her birth but didn’t specify where. She carefully inserted it into an equally old wooden box, telling him it was explicitly constructed to house the globe to keep it safe during its travels. Sam hears rumbling and glances around, spotting an old pickup parking not far off, and turns back to find the woman has disappeared.

Frowning, he placed the box in a bag, gathered up the rest of his purchases, walked to the waiting vehicle, deposited the items in the crowded truck bed, and then climbed in noticed Dean peering through the cab's back window, “Couldn’t find any more stuff, Sam?” “Couldn’t find a bigger tree, Dean?” His brother says nothing while backing the truck up, “Good thing I got all that to decorate it with then.”

Dean grunted as he set his end into the tree stand and, catching his breath, huffed out, “This would’ve been the time to use some of those witchy tricks, Sam.”

“Or maybe a good time to start working out more and cut back on the burgers and pie?” Sam shot back. “Wadda you talking about?” Dean snapped defensively, “I’m in great shape!” Sam gives him bitchface and says, “Keep telling yourself that Dean.“

Squatting down to affix the supports to the tree, Sam continues. ”You got winded just carrying this down the stairs. We have to face it: neither of us is getting any younger. We had this conversation not long after dealing with Chuck. Yes, we’ll enjoy the everyday things we couldn’t before. But if we’re doing something or on a hunt and get seriously injured, Cas isn’t here to help. And you know Jack is hands-off, so we’ve ….”

“Whatever, Sam.” Dean interrupted, unsuccessfully tamping down his that hurt but not gonna acknowledge it look. “I’m going to take my out-of-shape self and get the rest of the stuff from the car. Unless you’re worried I might, I don’t know, fall and break a hip.”

“Dean, that’s not what I,” but his brother just left, and Sam sighed, knowing he’d put his foot in it again, trying not to express his true feelings. Since they got their freedom from the manipulations of heaven, hell, and all the other things that went bump in the night, the feelings he’d buried and thought were over had come back.

Before he said yes to Lucifer, Dean acknowledged Sam was an adult, and he needed to stop being overprotective. But there is a part, deep down, in both Winchesters that is psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent. That part in Sam is one hundred percent positive that if Dean found out, he’d be so disgusted by what a perverted freak he indeed was forcing Dean would cut him out of his life forever.

The bunker's door banged shut, and at the bottom of the stairs, Sam paused on the last tread, watching the scene playing out before him in the war room.

“Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles at an ornament, refusing to stay on a branch of the mostly decorated tree. He lets it go, and it begins coming off again. “That’s it, I’m getting my gun.”

Sam couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “Maybe I should’ve gotten some floaters and air fresheners instead?” He can see Dean mulling over that memory, “They were great.” Peering over at his brother, he asks, “Where did you disappear to? Thought you were going to help.”

Sam held up a grocery bag, “A peace offering? I know you aren’t going to change your habits, but I'm hoping we can compromise, at least when we’re not hunting. It’s 90% lean beef, and the pie,” Dean's whole face lit up, “Is made with almond flour and natural sourced sugar.”

Trading the wayward ornament for the bag, Dean states, “You deal with this,” Sam shakes his head when he hears, “Meatman coming to town” and sets about finishing the tree.

After cleaning up, the brothers sit in the library, drinking beer and watching an old Christmas movie playing on a laptop, when Dean casually inquires, “So what’s with the box?” Sam frowned before realizing he meant and remembered leaving the item sitting by the displayed swords. “It’s ahh, well,” Sam stammers as he retrieves the box, sets it on the table, and lifts the wooden lid. Dean raised an eyebrow at the contents, “Something you need to tell me, Samantha?” he snarks, removing the snow globe.

“I’m not sure why, but I'm drawn to it.” Dean frowned at his brothers' words and took a closer look. “What’s the saying?” He asked, pointing to an inscription on the base. “Not sure. I think it's a form of an older Germanic dialect. I was going to translate it later.”

Since nothing is screaming cursed object, Dean shakes it, making the snow swirl before setting it on the table, picking up his beer, and resuming watching the movie. He could feel Sam suspiciously eyeballing him asks, “What, Sam?” But Sam simply sighed, knowing his brother wouldn’t let it go. And sure enough…

“Did Santa ask if you were a good boy this year?”

Sam glances around trying to figure out where he’s at since a moment ago he was in the laundry and now starting at his decades younger self reclining against a headboard reading he hears his, their, name and watches himself huff in displeasure and getting up proceeds to trip over his own feet.

Following himself down a wood-paneled hallway, they enter a shabbily furnished living room, and spots his brother watching his younger self standing by a wood-burning kitchen stove. “Dean?” Turning, green eyes boggle, seeing Sam standing next to his own younger visage.

“What the hell you’d do, Sam?” Dean’s gravelly voice snapped and got Sam’s back up. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?!” Dean looks at their younger doppelgängers arguing about something when young Sam stomps to a rickety kitchen table, plopping down on an equally rickety chair, crossing his arms, and glaring at its sacred top.

“Man, I forgot how bad your emoing could get,” Dean offhandedly commented, returning his attention to his brother, eyes hooded. “You were working in the library, so it's not hard to deduce you deciphered some curse cause now,” chucking his thumb toward the window, “We’re in the damn snow globe!”

Sam shot off bitchface #37, “It’s not a curse! I determined the words are an idiom. Слова не воробьи, как только они улетели, их уже не поймать.”

“Can you put that in English for those who don’t speak geek?”

“Words are not sparrows; once they have flown they cannot be recaptured.”

Dean got his running it over in my brain expression, “Yeah, I got nothing.” Sam concurred, “It didn’t make sense to me at first. But then I found a maker's mark hidden in the engravings. The records said they were a tradesman and spiritual alchemist.”

“What do idiot words have to do with Nicolas Flamel?” Sam's lips pursed, “Idiom Dean. And you know who Nicholas Flamel was?”

“Yeah, college boy, he created the philosopher's stone, turning metal into gold and some immortality elixir.” Sam waited. “He was in that Harry Potter movie, alright? What does that have to do with why we were here?”

“Okay, hear me out. Spiritual alchemy believers follow various paths to achieve the same goal, believing that, like metal, one’s soul can be transformed through stages of purification.” Sam began explaining the stages, and by the third, Dean heard enough.

“You're saying all the crap we’ve dealt with from heaven to hell has done some kinda colonic on our souls.” Sam began to speak, “Shut up, I’m on a role here. And if we take that idiom literally, one or both of us said something wrong and the idiom-alchy-snow globe Ghost of Christmas Past us to complete this whatever stage with an apology?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Great! Let’s figure out where here is, get to apologizing and the hell outta this glass ball.” Spying a discarded newspaper Dean tries picking up found he isn’t corporal. “Seriously?” Tipping his head sideways, he says, “Okay, December 22, 1999. We’re in Michigan..or Wisconsin?”

“Dean, what if it's something so bad there’s no way we can ask for forgiveness?”

That response made Dean's eyes narrow. “Sam, you need to tell me something?” His brother shook his head, but every warning signal in Dean was blaring like the bunker klaxon. He’d bet his entire collection of Busty Asian Beauties that Sam knew why that damn snow globe sent them here, but he was keeping it to himself for reasons.

Dean decided to hold his cards and play ignorant for a while longer. “Dude, what haven’t we done and forgiven each other for?”

Turning his attention to their younger selves made Dean feel a sense of nostalgia, missing how less complicated their lives seemed, even with the daily dose of Sam Winchester teen angst, which he always made up for.

Like now, offering to buy hot chocolate and giant pretzels triggered a memory, and the next moment, Dean was among a crowd wandering through the lighted tunnel entrance, following the loop by the salute to the armed forces towards the live reindeer exhibit.

“I remember this!” Dean exclaimed, “Dad left us in Somerset, Wisconsin, and were you all pissy ‘cause I kept giving you crap about this place’s name- Sam’s Christmas Village.”

“What else do you remember, Dean?”

They make a pit stop at the concessions, and while Sam is paying, Dean pulls out his flask, adding a double dollop to Sam’s. The kid needed to loosen up, then exchanged the cup for a pretzel with a smirk.

“This was the first time we got drunk together. Man, you were hilarious! Kept bugging me to go sledding,” Deans said, “And you fell off halfway down and laid there trying to catch snowflakes on your tongue.” Surrounded by softly falling snow tinted in hues of blues, greens, and reds, the brothers experience a memory trace of what happened that night.

Laughter fills the air as Dean staggers over, flopping on his back next to Sam, smiling at him when Sam’s expression changes and Sam leans over, his eyes' kaleidoscope colors disappearing into thin rings around dilated dark pupils as his fingertips caress the smooth, cinnamon-freckled skin and plush lips he was aching for when Dean pulled him tightly against him, noticing an unmistakable hard bulge pressing into his upper thigh as Sam instinctively started rocking his hips, seeking friction for his growing hard-on.

Dean feels his cock straining inside his jeans, slides one arm around Sam’s waist, another reaching behind him to cradle the back of his skull, angles his mouth up so he can drive his tongue into Sam’s mouth, feeling him suck on it with a sharp pull that shoots straight to his cock when wolf whistles from sledders passing by startled them caused Dean to bolt upright and dump Sam onto his butt.

Abruptly getting up, Dean grabbed the ropes of both sleds and dragged them downhill, leaving his brother perplexed. Scrambling to his feet, Sam rushes after, inquiring what happened, but Dean only responds that they need to head out before the roads ice over too much. The silent intensity of the drive back is broken only by music playing through the Impala’s speakers. Sam initially thinks Dean is concentrating on the road due to his intoxication. But Dean’s chewing his bottom lip signals he’s upset, and the knot in Sam’s stomach tells him to stay quiet.

Shutting the cabin door, Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean beats him to it, saying he overstepped boundaries that shouldn’t have been and won’t let it happen again. In a panic, Sam blurts out how his strange feelings for years were crystal clear.

“I love you, Dean, and want us to be together…like together together.” Dean shakes his head, “It’s the whiskey making you talk nonsense.” Sam’s stubborn streak surfaces, infuriating Dean, who shoves him back against the door and shouts in his face.

“Stop acting like a freak and go sleep it off!”

Sam feels like an ice pick is entering the base of his skull, and his stomach twists, knowing he’s the reason the person he cares most about in the entire world; he cares about more than himself is reacting like this, watching Dean disappear down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door shut. He fucked up royally, and suddenly his life was a mess when it seemed all was about to align an hour ago, making Sam wants to scream, to throw up.

Moving on autopilot, Sam shuts his room door, grabs his duffel, and haphazardly throws his belongings into it. Then, opening the window, he slips out and trudges back to town, heading for the bus station. By the time he arrives, his feet are so numb he shuffles across the linoleum flooring to the counter, setting most of his hoarded money down asked for the furthest distinction it’ll take him.

A short time later, the bus pulls out onto the main highway heading west as Sam leans against his window, wondering how everything outside seems so normal when his world has imploded. Dean turns his attention from the younger visage before him to the mature man beside him.

“This is why you ran away to Flagstaff.”

“You were right about me being a freak all along.”

Dean shakes his head, “No, Sam, it was my fault. I tried so hard to keep what I felt hidden, but that night..,” Sam's burst of laughter made Dean bark, “You think that’s funny?”

Eyes that never settled their color, hardened by the decades of horrors they’d lived through, were now gazing at him with unworldliness a thirteen-year-old Dean, after confirming everything in their dad’s journal was true, helplessly watched flame out like dying embers.

“No, Dean. The snow globe brought us back for the dissolution stage, dissolving false beliefs. We’ve been at cross purposes all these years for the same reason, each of us thinking we are the problem and the only way out is to no longer deny our feelings.”

Lifting his hand, Sam hesitated to let his fingertips explore the older, but still, so much loved, freckled skin again when Dean shifted, reaching his still-strong hand to cradle the back of his brother’s skull, angling his mouth up and breathed out against his lips.

“Sammy, we’re good.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

[burntsecrets]

Cozy Vibes and Apple Pie 🥧

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1171

Summary: Sam and you celebrate your anniversary by spending the day doing all the fall activities you can. 

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mild horror themes, mild language, jump scares, mention of supernatural elements

The piercing shriek of the alarm clock startled you from your slumber. You rolled over, your brain on autopilot, and smacked your hand on the alarm clock until it stopped its programmed morning annoyance. Exasperated, you flopped back onto the bed and stretched. It was then that you realized there wasn’t a warm body beside you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Sam’s absence.

While it was true that Sam was an early riser, he wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. Today was the first of October, and he was breaking your anniversary tradition by not being in bed with you.

“Sam?” you call out, your voice still thick with sleep.

No response. The silence of the underground bunker stretches unnaturally, making you feel a little lonely. You throw the covers off and pad barefoot across the cool floor, tugging on one of Sam’s flannel shirts over your sleep clothes. As you wander through the bunker’s winding halls, you catch a faint whiff of something familiar—cinnamon and coffee.

You follow the scent to the kitchen, where you find Sam standing at the counter, his broad back turned to you as he pours hot coffee into two mugs. A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean against the doorway, watching him. He’s already dressed, his hair a little messy, a few pieces falling across his forehead.

“Breaking tradition, Winchester?” you tease, crossing the room toward him.

He turns, his face lighting up with a soft smile that always makes your heart skip a beat. “Thought I’d surprise you,” he says, holding out a mug. “Pumpkin spice latte… homemade.”

You raise an eyebrow, impressed. “You’re really embracing the fall vibes, huh?”

He chuckles, handing you the warm mug. “Well, it is our tradition. Coffee first, then sleeping in—right?” He pulls you in close with his free arm, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The familiar scent of Sam—leather, books, and something earthy—mixes with the spices of the season, grounding you in the moment.

“Mmm, you’re forgiven,” you murmur against his chest. “But only because this smells amazing.”

The two of you sit at the long dining table, the warm glow of the bunker’s kitchen lights wrapping around you like a blanket. As you sip your drinks, you both chat about the day ahead—the plans you’d made months ago. The first of October always meant cozy fall activities, starting with sleeping in, but Sam’s eager spirit had other ideas. 

“We can still sleep in tomorrow,” he says, an amused glint in his eye.

You find yourselves in a nearby pumpkin patch a little later in the morning. The crisp October air brushes against your cheeks, and the leaves overhead flutter in shades of red, gold, and orange. Sam walks beside you, his large hand wrapped around yours, warm and reassuring. A breeze rustles through the corn stalks that line the edges of the patch as you both scour the rows for the perfect pumpkins.

“This one’s too small,” you say, holding up a tiny pumpkin and making a face. “It’s cute, though.”

Sam laughs, leaning down to inspect it. “You said you wanted cute decorations for the bunker.”

You smirk. “I want cute and impressive.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow and gestures toward a massive pumpkin further down the row. “How about that one? It’s big enough to be both.”

Your eyes widen at the size. “How are you even going to carry that thing?”

Sam shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Super strength, remember?”

You laugh, watching him effortlessly hoist the pumpkin over his shoulder, his grin boyish and proud. “Show-off.”

The rest of the afternoon is filled with more cozy autumn traditions. You make your way through a corn maze, where Sam takes the lead, but you manage to beat him to the exit by sneaking through a shortcut. The two of you carve pumpkins back at the bunker, the table covered in newspapers and the scent of roasted pumpkin seeds filling the air. The soft hum of classic rock plays in the background, courtesy of Dean’s extensive vinyl collection.

Later that night, you’re curled up on the couch in the bunker’s media room with Sam, a stack of horror movies on the coffee table in front of you. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the glow of the TV and the string of orange fairy lights you’d strung up earlier in the week. You’ve got a cozy blanket draped over both of you, and Sam’s arm is around your shoulders, pulling you close.

Just as you’re about to hit play on the first movie, the door to the room swings open, and Dean strides in, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and a pie box in the other.

“Well, if it isn’t the sappy lovebirds,” Dean announces with a smirk. “I knew you two were gonna be holed up in here.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Dean, what are you doing here?”

“Crashing your little date night, obviously.” He drops the pie and beer on the table and plops down on the other side of the couch, making himself comfortable. “You didn’t think I’d let you watch all the good horror movies without me, did you?”

Sam sighs, but there’s a playful grin on his face as he hands Dean a beer. “Figured you’d show up at some point.”

Dean’s eyes narrow as he opens the beer. “Oh, and I brought pie. Apple. You’re welcome.”

You can’t help but laugh as Dean makes himself at home, jabbing fun at you and Sam between bites of pie and sips of beer. It’s not long before the three of you are engrossed in the horror movie marathon, the room filled with the flickering light of the screen, the sound of jump scares, and Dean’s constant commentary.

“So, which one of you is gonna scream first?” Dean teases as the music in the movie grows tense, signaling an upcoming scare.

“I’d be more worried about you, Dean,” Sam shoots back, his arm tightening around you.

You smile, leaning into Sam’s side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Despite Dean’s teasing, you feel content—wrapped up in the coziness of the moment, the fall traditions, and the people you care about most. 

As the night goes on, the three of you continue your movie marathon, pie plates empty and beer bottles scattered across the table. Dean eventually drifts off to sleep, snoring softly on the couch, and you glance up at Sam, who’s still wide awake, his eyes fixed on the screen but his hand tracing lazy circles on your shoulder.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispers, his voice low and warm in your ear.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline. “Happy anniversary, Sam.”

With Dean snoozing away and the horror movie playing in the background, you couldn’t imagine a better way to end the night—cozy, content, and exactly where you belong.

[spnfanficpond]

July 2024 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

A Stairway to Nowhere by all_the_kings_ham (AO3)

Everyone knows there is a lack of some good Ducifer fics out there, due to it being a rarepair. This one is still one of my faves and I love the humanity and trauma shown in some scenes. It's truly worth a read.

Apple Pie and the Apocalypse by @ladyknightskye

I'm still reading it but I've read quite a few new chapters and I'm absolutely loving it. There are some hilarious scenes and some more serious ones (sometimes they're together...) and I really can't wait to see how it ends

Like an Open Book by @butiaintgonnaloveem

I am trying to get into x Reader fics and there truly is a lack of Ketch oh my G-d. Anyway. Although here the reader is... Way too dominant to be me lol... I love Ketch showing his softer side and reader helping him to relax. I shall leave nsfw thoughts untold 😫

Nominated by @annahmiraculousmillenium

Let's pretend I'm dead by evitably (AO3)

I love possession fic.

Nominated by @charliethealpaccaso

Woof by morrezela (AO3)

I tend to hunt down all sorts of transformation based fics of all kinds if it peaks my interest and this one caught my interest at the start. I want to make sure more people check out the tag or get some ideas. For this fic what if jensen got turned into a dalmatian. How is he going to deal with his new form and does he ever get back to his human self that is up to you to figure out

Like The Fairy Tales by Icefire149 (AO3)

As the one trying to seek out some great animal transformation fics we got this one where sam is turned into a frog. I thought this was a cute fic and worth a read if you like to check it out.

Regarding Sam by AllHallowsEve (AO3)

For me Regarding Dean was a great spn ep and when I found this I wanted to see what would happen for Sam. The story for the ep plays the same with some added bits more leaning on the Sam side of it all along with his relationship with Dean.

Home For a Stray by 3oclockrock (AO3)

This one was a hard read for me with the topics but it did peak my interest a bit in its concepts. If your interested in a strange read with more mature topics dealing with struggle and recovery check out this fic.

Faithful Companion by brokenlittleboy (AO3)

I'm still hunting down as much transformation fics that peak my interest and this was one I thought was a great read. Sam's powers go out of control causing him to change into a dog and Dean take a bit of an advantage on him giving him a pink collar.

Nominated by @glygriffe

Did You Hear? by cacholady (AO3)

This is a sweet outsider (mostly school related) POV on Dean. He might not be a dad, but he sure has a way with children! And I love that Bobby John Campbell was a part of this story.

Nominated by harrypotterfanatic1 (AO3)

amoralism by @artyandink

I'm nominating this because it's just caught my eye. It's an AU, based in the world of the FBI and the smut is just AAHH and the sexual tension and all of it is so damn GOOD! There's also a plot around a crime syndicate which includes as many major characters as possible and it's overall a read which I would recommend everyone to check out and leave their feedback on as there's so much to go. Aah, can't stop talking about it! It's the characterization as well, all the characters leap off the page and are so accurate. Definitely felt I should nominate this.

Nominated by @leatafandom

Wingman by cas---2y5 (AO3)

I love Sam's fascination with wings and Gabe helping him organize the bunker. I love how their relationship changes and the how Sam just can't help himself. Plus it's also just so steamy.

we sons of hell and heaven by @gay-destiel

This was such a great read! I love the word usage and descriptions so much! It was so enthralling and the relationships were amazing to watch bloom.

Nominated by @masoena

Living in a Haze by @girlsvmonsters

The story has well thought out plot, smoking hot smut, lots of Dean whump and a red thread of humor that compliments the trauma, angst and comfort perfectly. It is also polyamorous and A/B/O.

Nominated by @rainythursdaynight

Crashing In by @followyourenergy

I'm an angst girl through and through, but sometimes I just really need some fluff and comfort. That's what this fic is, hot chocolate on a (not 2024) cold winter's day, snowed in with a good book. Single parent Cas and kid Jack fics are always so lovely, as are the fics where Dean comes in when Cas needs it most. Even if in this fic it's a literal crash into them, it's fluffy and sweet and heart warming and cozy and everything you could ever want out of a read.

And This, Your Living Kiss by @asecretvice

I'm a sucker for well written stories about well written in-story works. Poet/Writer Dean has some beautiful works sprinkled throughout this fic that the author does so much justice to, his story is heart wrenching in the leave-your-chest-aching-despite-knowing-the-outcome-is-okay-kind-of-way, and I love me a fic about hidden identities. The tension, the prose, the energy: this fic is beautiful, if I only could describe it in one word it'd be that: Beautiful.

Heroes for Ghosts by @pantheonofdiscord

I think I haven't felt such deep yearning as I have felt conveyed through this fic. It reads so tense, like you're waiting for a small crack to let out some of the building up pressure and anxiety but still waiting, and waiting, and aching the way Cas does. And then when that pressure is finally relieved, god is it worth it. The waiting was worth it in the end. This fic is also a masterclass in writing interactions that aren't direct, none of TFW can speak to each other or see each other, but they still move and talk like they can, even if its out of desperation. It acknowledges the empty spaces in each of their lives during the fic, and reminds you in equal parts that they are connected even if the thread is invisible.

The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment by @deanology101

I'm a sucker for not only time travel, but pre-season 4 deancas meetups. This one hit all the marks. It was tense with mystery, with energy, with passion and secrecy. It left the reader and the characters in equal levels of dark as to why things were happening in the way they were. And it kept characters alive that the show couldn't bother to, and gave the Winchesters some meaningful friendships to boot. This setting IS if Faith Healer had an extended cut, rainy and dreary and electric, but with occasional bouts of light peeking through the clouds. And Dean's Journal Entries? His little doodles? His analogies? Dean's voice was PHENOMENAL in this fic, I highly recommend it to any Dean fans, period.

The Sinking Ship by @crack--attack

I'll offer the note that I wrote down when I bookmarked this fic the first time. "Like bearing a part of my soul open and shining sunlight on it. I ache, but there are new flowers here. There are new flowers and a gentle breeze." This is a story about sacrifice, and love so intense it shakes the planes of the world. It's about story telling and eternity and history inundated by loss and a ticking clock and forgiveness and moving on and love. It's everything I could ever want in a piece of literature. Please, if you have even the slightest interest in Deancas, give this story a read. I read this not even acknowledging some of the ships in this fic but found myself pleasantly surprised by them. Even if you don't like or are impartial to deancas, or sam/rowena/gabe, or claire/maggie, please please PLEASE give this fic a shot. I'm so so glad I did.

The Neighboring Perspective by aileenrose (AO3)

A story about loss, grief, and healing. About loving unconventionally but loving fiercely and fully. About opening old closets and airing them out with hope. It's a shorty so I won't write much, just that if you're interested in moving on from loss, in finding new family, in learning how to love again, give this fic a shot. Plus baby!Ben Braedon is adorable throughout!

Out of the Deep by @riseofthefallenone

This is a behemoth of a fic, and popular if the hits are anything to go by. However, if you haven't read this yet and you're into heavy Mermaid lore, I highly recommend giving it a try! It's heavy at times. Cas is caged and sometimes no matter what they try to do, things don't work out for the protagonists. But they try again, and again, and again and the payoff is very much worth it in the end. Plus there's a whole lot of cathartic payback and BAMF Cas, Dean, Sam, and Jess that makes the high action points of this story edge-of-your-seat fun! And the calmer points much more magical, mystical, and hopeful. I loved it for its found family, for it's incredible lore, and it's fierceness. And when I have the time, I know I'll go back in for a second read.

Nominated by @samanddean76

My Brother's Keeper, My Father's Prisoner by @xpurdyglambertx

An Omegaverse story that starts dark with Dean being trapped by his duties and obligations. It follows him as he struggles to break away from those that are more intent on hurting him, than helping him to grow. With help, he does escape. And he goes on to find a relationship with an OC that you will love and adore. They grow together, while Dean works through all of the pain and trauma that was inflicted upon him by the one that should have protected him. It concludes with happy endings all around, and the possibility of hope for the rest of his days.

Nominated by @sardonic-the-writer

B-Clean by EliDeetz (AO3)

i'm nominating this story mostly because the descriptive nature had me hooked, as did the accurate characterization of gabriel, and the relationship between him and the reader was really enjoyable without feeling forced

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

The Cherry Pie Club by zation (AO3)

>.< It’s so hard to explain. It’s a great story with angst, fluff, a bit of violence that is an after the fact type description so not too bad imo, and a hopeless romantic story. Zation does it again, ok? They’re an amazing writer and destiel is just *chef’s kiss* for them. I have yet to read a story of theirs that I haven’t enjoyed. I swear! Did I mention a bunch of well written kinky smut that also shows the developing relationship between the main characters and Dean coming to happy terms (with loving support) with his sexuality too. I highly recommend reading!

Stars in Your Eyes by Cigarettes_and_Valentines (AO3)

It is so, so good! It’s perfect. It’s perfect and I love it. Relaxed, Endverse-like Castiel is an amazing Alpha for Omega Dean Winchester, a career-focused man that loves his job. ❤️💙💚

Stars Above, Earth Below by @hellhoundsprey

It’s a love story that is technically a slow burn. It’s so sweet and well done. I love how the author gets Jensen and Jared finally together. It has a lot of A/O vibes imo, which might be why I love it so much. The secrets that come out and how it ends up actually helping in the long run, shows just how dedicated they are to each other. There is some angst but a good amount of smut that is actually necessary for the story. Pay attention to the details or you’ll miss it. 😊

For Appearances Only by @lotus820

It’s an amazing amalgam of urban fantasy, billionaire romance, one-sided enemy to lovers with a decent slow burn, and then everything gets fun, sexy, and dangerous. The love that Castiel has for Dean just keeps showing and showing so easily. Dean can’t help but falling for the being that is Castiel. I love this! This is a new comfort fic. It is amazing. You gotta read it. The title is half the story. 😊

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

The Fear That Remains by @stusbunker

This fic is nearly 4yrs old, and I've read it multiple times because the characterization is perfect (as Stu is wont to do) and it feels like I'm in the room, whether as a spectator or as the female reader. It's sumptuous and heartfelt, sexy and so, so Dean.

(Divider by @glygriffe)

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @heavenssexiestangel, and @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes!

[imbiowaresbitch]

By the Shore

Chapter one: Seaside

This is all @winchester-reload's fault, so thank her.

~~

Dean watched as Cas dove into the water, the sun sparkling on the white sand and on the crest of each wave that lapped against the shore. Dean's feet were buried in the sand, and he had discarded his Hawaiian shirt a little while ago. 

It was too hot. 

Nevermind that part of the reason Dean was more than a little hot under the proverbial collar was because Cas had shown no regard for Dean’s peace of mind and stripped right down to a pair of tight-fitting swim trunks that hugged his ass perfectly.

Dean had never thought he could be jealous of something as inane as fabric, yet here he was, wishing desperately to be able to press as close to Cas’ body as the polyester/spandex blend that left little to the imagination. 

“Dude,” Sammy suddenly spoke up. “You're embarrassing yourself.” Dean fired a glare at his brother, sputtering a weak protest. Movement caught his eye, and he turned to watch Cas stride from the water, his words drying up as Cas beamed at him, his smile huge and full of joy. Dean swallowed, then pushed himself to his feet. “Finally…”

Dean ignored both the muttered comment from his brother and Eileen’s laughter as he strode across the burning sand to wrap his arms around Cas in a tight hug. 

“... Dean?” Cas’ breath caught as his arms wrapped around Dean in return, maybe a little hesitantly. 

They hadn't talked. Dean hadn't talked. He'd been too afraid. Afraid of the Shadow returning for Cas. Afraid of Cas seeing that Dean wasn't worth all the sacrifices. Afraid that Cas would resent him for Cas’ permanent shift to humanity when Dean pulled him from The Empty, leaving his grace behind.

But seeing the unfettered joy on Cas' face as he emerged from the sea, Dean felt all his fears melting away.

~~

Read it on AO3 here.