#SupernaturalImagines

[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.

[supernaturalimagine]

okay so i remember this fic from yesrs ago but i cannot find it for the life of me. basically reader is s+d little sis and shes feels suicidal and starts to write a suicide note on her laptop but then dean comes in the room amd demands to see her laptop so he takes it and she locks herself in the bathroom and they find her in the bathrub crying after he reads it panicked and yeah if you have any idea of this fic pls link

Hello hello hello!

SO I believe I found the right fic. It's on our other blog @twsupernaturalimagine and it's called "Misery" by @doomedbrothers.

Here's a link to it on our blog, or you can check it out on theirs here!

(Since this is our regular blog, I'm gonna go ahead and give a trigger warning for suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation, self-harm, depression, and negative self-talk.)

Hope you're doing okay m'dear. Enjoy the fic!

~ Clarence 🐸

[maribricklove]

Trapped Under Ice – Part eight

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Platonic!Reader, John Winchester (mentioned),

Summary: Imagine being an old hunting friend of Sam’s (and something more) from before he went to college that he thought was dead, and while coincidentally working on the same case you were, you run into each other again. Astonished to see you after almost twenty years, Sam tries to figure out how you survived, but you don’t want to relive the pain and terror of how you were separated.

Word Count: 949

Warnings: Implied PTSD (No disrespect to people with PTSD. Just something for the character), fluff, angst, eventual blood, gore, death, mild swearing.

Prompt: None

Disclaimers: I do not own anything from CW,  Warner Brother’s, any of the photos in this collage, or you. This is a work of pure fiction -obviously.

Sam’s POV

The second I opened my eyes, I was blinded from the light peering through the window. I half expected to hear Dean's snoring, but it was quiet. I felt something move under my arm, and I realized there was someone else in the bed.

“Wait. No. It wasn’t a dream. She’s really here. Holy shit. Y/n’s really here, and I’m holding her in my arms.”

The way her hair caresses her shoulders is mesmerizing. Her slow breathing  under my embrace, enchanting. The way the sun hits her y/h/c brightens her face. She seems much more peaceful than when she had that nightmare earlier this morning. The scar on her arm stands out to me. “Damn. That must have hurt,” I said to myself. I got lost in thought for a second before I heard a voice say, “It did.”

She startled me. I thought she was still asleep. “It hurt like a bitch for months,” she continued. “What time is it?”

“Uh…” I looked at the bedside clock “Almost 8.”

“Ah, crap.”  She slipped out from under the covers and started walking to the bathroom.

“What’s up?” I asked, thinking she might have forgotten about something.

“Nothing,” she replied, waving a hand as she walked into the bathroom, closing the door.

“O-okay.” I got out of bed, walked to the kitchen sink, and grabbed a glass of water. “That was weird.”

As I walked back to the bed to grab my pants, Y/n walked out of the bathroom with her hair up and her shirt off, wiping her face with it. As she finished and opened her eyes, she saw me and jumped. “Oh, Jesus!” she exclaimed. She held her shirt to her chest, panting. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were here.”

“Are you okay? You seem really jumpy. Was it because I cuddled you in my  sleep?”

“What? No, Sam. I-I mean, that was a little odd to wake up like that, but it wasn’t bad.” She said. “I just have a routine in the mornings, and I have things I need to do, and I usually am up and moving around 6:30, so I had to jump out of bed.”

She looked nervous, like she was hiding something. She did that thing where she rubbed her hands together. “No, no. It’s okay,” I replied. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you like that. I’m uh… I’m not used to girls hopping out of bed like that.” She gave me a quizzical look. “I mean, I don’t sleep around a lot. Dean used to do that. I haven’t been with as many girls as he has. I just- What I’m trying to say is, if you’re worried about something, you don’t have to hide it from me.”

That seemed to calm her down a bit. “You don’t have to explain anything, Sam. I haven’t slept with a guy since,” she paused, “ well, since 2007? I think. And we technically didn’t even sleep together, we just shared a bed, you know, because you were being nice, and”

“Yeah,” I stammered.

“And I do appreciate it. I did sleep well,” said calmly as her hands dropped down from her chest to her stomach. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve slept that well, even for a few hours.”

“Yeah, uh, no problem.” I said. “ I know what it’s like, with nightmares. Trust me, I’ve had a few myself over the years.”

“Yeah, what hunter hasn’t?” she quipped with a chuckle. She’s starting to come out of her shell.

“Look, um,” I started, “if you ever want to talk, I’m here. I know sometimes it helps, if you just get it off your chest.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she said rather quickly, “ but I’m okay. Really.” As she was nodding her head, I couldn’t help but notice that the scar on her arm was right next to her chest, where she was wearing nothing but her sports bra. “Look, Dean’s probably curious about where you’re at. You should probably head on over there, and we can grab some breakfast later.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, good idea.”

READER’S POV

Sam left my room, and I laid back down on the bed, his scent lingering on the sheets.

“Goddammit. Why did I have to tell him I only slept with one guy in the last 15 years? What the hell was that? Talk about cringey info-dump.” I looked up and grabbed my phone off the bedside table. There was a text from Dean.

“Off to get breakfast. I’ll be back in 30.” Timed 13 minutes ago.

“Okay, Y/L/N. Time to get into gear. Gotta figure out who this Okuri-inu is, gotta put on a brave face, and face down another day.” I told myself. Sam hadn’t come back yet. Probably grabbing a change of clothes. “Probably should change my clothes.”

“Why was Sam asking me if I was okay? It’s not like he still cares about me like that. Does he? No, he couldn’t. You heard him. He’s been with other girls. Probably met some cute girl in college that swept him off his feet and made him feel like he could do anything and everything.”

I could still taste the bathroom tap water on my the back of my tongue. I had to do it fast. If I stepped out of my routine too much, it could really screw with me.

Should I tell Sam what’s going on with me? Should I tell him where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing for the last 20 years? There’s no way he could save me from what I’ve been fighting with since that day. The monster in my head.

Chapter 9

[myspnstory]

wow, i haven’t been able to access this account in yeeeears.

i’ve been rewatching supernatural lately and it reminded me that i started rewriting the episodes and it kinda made me wanna go back to it.

but are people still active on this side of tumblr? it’s been a while since i’ve even used this app so i have no idea

[gilverrwrites]

Skinny Dipping

Pairing: Dean WInchester/F!Reader

Authors note: This has the been the hardest, and biggest of my re-mastered fics so far. I’m pretty sure the original was an amalgamation of imagines from supernaturalimagine and dirtysupernaturalimagines but I couldn’t even guess at which imagines exactly. This is like, my 4th public/semi-public fic in like 3 months, I’m starting to feel like this is a kink I didn’t know I had.  Also, Metallica have not cancelled anything, don’t worry. (and I don’t know jack about cars, people that do, please don’t come for me, I really did try, k, thanks, bye.) 💖

Plot: Reader is a mechanic who Dean's been checking in on, and checking out for a while now. Dean has the perfect excuse to see her after baby breaks down nearby.

Rating: M/18+

Words: 2936

Content: Swearing, consumption of alcohol, reckless drunken/tipsy behaviour, being submerged underwater, skinny dipping, teasing, brief retraining, size-difference, dry-humping, (or I guess wet-humping), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, water sex, mild angst.

Please remember: If you never try, you’ll never know.

You switch off the radio, listening to the purr of your car's ignition as you pull up behind a familiar black impala. It was a beauty, but it was nothing compared to your ‘70 boss. You watched as its owner climbed out of the front seat and headed towards you.

Its owner being your old friend Dean Winchester. He and his brother had saved you from a coven of witches a few years back, and ever since he’s been popping back into your life every few months. ‘Working on a case nearby’, ‘just passing through’, ‘baby needs a new compressor’. Every visit he laid the flirting on thicker. You weren’t sure if he was just joking around with you, or if he was serious, or if he saw you as a challenge. Either way you’d been making him work for it. Today it just so happened that his car had broken down a few miles out from your shop, the perfect excuse to see you on a Friday night.

You were pulled from your train of thought by a light tapping on your window. You snapped your head to the side to see Dean hovering over your door. His familiar smile set your heart racing. Okay, so maybe his seduction tactics were working, he was hot, who could blame you?

“Is there a problem, officer?” You joked, rolling down your window.

Dean rested an arm on the hood and leaned in. “No, no, just a routine check.” You knew he impersonated officers and agents all the time, but you hadn’t seen it firsthand. It was impressive how easily he slid into character.

“I am, however, gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle for a full strip search.”

Act ruined.

“At least buy me drink first.” You quipped.

“If you can help me, I’ll buy you a whole dinner.” He winked and opened the car door from the outside. You raised your brows at him but climbed out anyway before making a b-line for the impala’s engine.

“What’s wrong?” You directed your question to the car in the same tone you would address a small child or animal, gently rubbing a hand across its roof as you walked beside it. "Has someone been neglecting you?”

“Hey!” Dean barked, clearly offended. “I take better care of this baby than I do myself.”

At that you looked back over at him. He’d forgone his usual flannel today, leaving him in a pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a grey t-shirt that clung tight and accentuated his broad chest. By the time your eyes reached his face, Dean was sporting a wicked grin, clearly ecstatic to have caught you checking him out. You avoid his smug gaze by popping the hood of his car to take a look at the engine.

“You weren’t kidding.” You whistled; Dean really was taking care of the thing.  The motor was almost gleaming. You felt his warm hand suddenly press against your lower back and turn to look up at him. The expression on his face could only be described as that of a proud father.

“Yeah.” He agreed before pointing to the main battery with his free hand: “This is the problem. It’s busted.”

“Ah, you’re gonna need a new one. I’m surprised you don’t keep a spare.” 

“Yeah.” To his credit, he looked pretty sheepish. “I normally do, but guess I forgot when the last one went out.”

“I don’t have one.” You said, pursing your lips to express your sympathies.

Dean didn’t respond, biting his lip while he waited for you to continue.

“But I could give you a jump start if you gotta head out soon.” You bring the hood back down and start heading to the boot of your car.

“No good,” Dean calls after you. “I’m not in a rush, but I don’t have enough gas to get me where I’m going.”

“Well… I’ve got a guy. He’s a few towns over. He’s closed at this time.” You inform as you open your boot and pull out your tow rope, flashing it to Dean with a smile. I can tow you into town for tonight, then drive you there and back in the morning.”

“I knew I could count on you!”

An hour later, you’d slowly but surely managed to drag Dean and his baby back into town, argued with him about him staying at a motel or on your couch (you’d won), and successfully swindled him into buying you that dinner he’d promised. Dinner being take-put pizza and over-priced ice-cream. Now, the two of you were sitting in your backyard, sharing the aforementioned ice-cream and an old bottle of Jack Daniels you’d pulled from the back of your cupboards. 

“So,” Dean began, his speech slurred by the spoon hanging from his mouth. How’s the garage doin’?”

You take a sip of the JD and proceed to suck on your teeth as you consider how to respond.

“Honestly, bad. Ever since that shitty corporate place set up shop down the road, we’ve been going downhill.” You punctuate your statement with another sip from the bottle before offering it to Dean. “I’m keeping it up and running by tooth and claw, but truthfully, it’s probably only got a few months left in it.” 

He gives you a sombre smile as he exchanges the tub of ice cream for the bottle. It's a touchy subject, but you can’t help admiring the way his neck moves as he tilts his head back to drink. You avert your eyes by scooping up the last bit of cold, sugary goodness and placing the empty container on the grass beside you.

“That sucks.” He places a hand on your shoulder, attempting to offer comfort. “That really sucks. Do you have a back-up plan?”

You grab the bottle back from Dean and take another sip before answering.

“I dunno. Sometimes I think about doing what you do. Kinda.” You begin. You don’t miss the way his entire body stiffens before you clarify. “Without the monsters. Just hit the road, get drunk at every bar in the country, visit Disney, become Metallica groupie, an-”

“You know they cancelled that tour, right?” Dean butts in.

“WHAT?” You shake his hand off and stare up at him in disbelief.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. The smile on his face is anything but sympathetic.

“Bastards.” You cross your arms and pout dramatically. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the laugh that escapes Dean's lips is magical, and you can’t help but join in. When he returns his hand to your shoulder, this time reaching for the furthest from him, thus wrapping himself around you, your skin tingles, and you let yourself fall into him.

As the two of you slowly seize your giggling, Dean checks his watch. He quirks an evocative brow at you when he speaks, “It’s getting late. Maybe we should head inside?”

You mull it over, dramatically swaying your head from side to side before you voice your decision. “Actually, I have a better idea.”

You stand up, offering your hand to Dean, who eyes you sceptically. Nevertheless, he takes the bait, placing his hand in yours and allowing you to lead him toward the footpath just outside your garden.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks, and you can sense the caution in his voice. You assume it’s the hunter in him being paranoid, and you know for a fact that his free hand is hovering over the knife he keeps tucked into the back of his jeans at all times.

“I’m taking you here,” you answer as you pull him through the last set of trees and onto the shore of the local lake. You scan the surrounding area as you kick off your shoes. Satisfied that nobody is nearby, you start pulling off your trousers.

As you bend down to pull your socks off, you look up at Dean. He’s staring back at you intensely, mouth open, cheeks pink.

When you start pulling your top over your head you feel his fingers lightly brush against your hips. He’d stepped closer, and you’re tempted to touch him back or to reach up and kiss him. But you don’t. Instead, you throw your top over his head and sprint for the water.

“RACE YOU!” You challenge, discarding your bra and panties before you reach the water and forward dive in. Dean follows you moments later with a cannonball that splashes your face just as you’re resurfacing from your own dive.

“Fuck! That’s colder than I expected.” You yell to him.

“I’ll warm you up.” Dean replies as he swims close to you. You let his hands return to your hips, not expecting it when he dunks you back under the water.

You cough and splurge as he brings you back up. You flail your arms around until you find the top of his head, and you cling to him for dear life, but Deans is stronger, taller, and he’s found solid ground to plant his feet onto below the water. He escapes your grip and throws you under again.

“STOP. MERCY!” You yell when you come back up. This time, you use your legs for safety, wrapping them around his hips. You'd be safe if you could just get a grip on his arms. You’d been too distracted to notice his erection until you feel it poking at you. You’re about to make a comment about it, but Dean speaks first.

“You’re cute when you’re scared.” He laughs, you silence him with a swift but playful punch to the chest. In defence he grabs at your wrists, able to trap both in just one of his hands. His other hand slides up your arms, over your shoulder, your neck, until he reaches your cheek. He leisurely rubs his thumb against your wet skin.

You stay like that for a while, watching each other, before you finally ask, “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Without any further hesitation Dean lunges forward, forcing his lips against yours. His kiss is hard and animalistic; he skips straight past the pecking and teasing to roaming your mouth with his tongue. His fingers leave your cheek and weave into your hair, holding you against him, his stubble scratches against your skin.

In a play for dominance, you dart your own tongue out, grazing his chapped lips, but he denies you. Instead, he pulls away from your lips, refocusing his attention on nipping and kissing at your jaw, neck, and collarbone.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been imagining this.” He utters onto your skin.

“What, this exact scenario?” You joke.

“Not exactly.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, and the gust of air against your skin makes you tremble.

“Then what?” You challenge. Your inability to touch him is frustrating you. In an attempt to stimulate him back, you grip your legs around him tighter, using him as leverage to grind against him. The tip of his cock doesn’t quite reach your clit, but its added pressure helps it spread your lips. “Tell me.”

He drops his hand from your head, and cups it under your asscheek. Firmly guiding you up and down, assisting you in rutting against his cock. Shakey breaths become grunts, and after a few seconds he releases your wrists so that he can grip you with both hands. Free to move, you shimmy down his body until you can feel his dick brush against your clit with each grind.

“Come on, tell me.” You plead, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, your grip tightening every time he hits your sweet spot. You know he's not shy, that he’s just getting lost in the feeling, and it pains you to say it, but eventually, you taunt. “I’m not gonna fuck you if you don’t tell me.”

He whimpers at your empty threat but finally confesses. “Just you. Your body, under me. Every night, I think about how you’d look, how you’d feel squirming, moaning my name.”

“Fuck. That’s hot.” You reply and he smiles as you plant your lips against his once again.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks, speech slurred as he tries to speak between kisses.

“Yes.” You respond instantly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Please fuck me, Dean.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His grip on your ass is like a vice as he lifts you up slightly. You both work in sync to position yourselves just right until he lowers you onto his cock, slowly pressing into you. There’s some resistance as he stretches your walls, but the sound of his whispered praises helps you relax until he finally bottoms out, stretching you in all the right places.

“Fuck, that feels so good. You took me so well.” He affirms, and even though he’s already balls deep, you can’t help the heat that spreads across your face.

He begins lifting you again before you can respond, sliding you up and down his cock in slow, steady movements. You grip tight to his shoulders and hips with your hands and knees, using them as leverage points to help move your body up and down. Each thrush is slow and shallow, but Dean seems to be loving it; his head rolls back, and he releases breathy moans with every rock.

“Shit.” You shout, holding tighter still when Dean unexpectedly shifts below you, repositioning his legs to a sturdier position. You watch through hazy eyes as he reaches up and grips your hand, before guiding it down the tight space between your bodies. You get the message quickly, and begin rubbing your clit in lazy circles, keeping in time with the pace of Dean's cock.

The added stimulation had your toes curling in no time. When your pussy starts clenching around Dean’s cock, you see the sudden concentration in his face. His brow furrows, and he bites his lip as he focuses on riding you through your orgasm. The sight was the final push you need to take you over the edge.

“Fuck, Dean. Fuck fuck fuck, that feels good.” You cry out as you hit your climax.

“Keep saying my name, baby.” Dean begs as he continues rolling your hips together. You feel his body shake as he starts to struggle with your combined weights as he chases his own release.

You try to assist, desperately pumping yourself up and down despite the newfound sensitivity as you chant his name.

“Fuck, yes baby.” You feel the twitch of his cock inside you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he hits his orgasm, rutting his cock as deep as he can as he cums inside you. “oohhh yeah.”

You stay in position for a long time following, holding on tight to each other, listening to each other's breathing as you come back down, until Dean guides your body backwards so that you’re face to face again. “How you feelin’?”

“Good.” You reply with a smile.

“Good.” He grins at you mischievously before plunging backwards into the water, taking you with him.

“So, was that everything you imagined it to be?”

He purses his lips in thought before teasingly responding. “Eh, it wasn’t bad.”

You both laugh as you lay your head down on Dean's bare chest; his arms envelop your body as you both blankly look up at the stars. You play with the hem of the shirt you’d stolen from him when you emerged from the water and re-dressed.

“You should do it.” Dean says when you're both fully settled down.

“Do what?” You query, popping your head up to look at him, unsure what he’s talking about.

“Hit the road.” He clarifies, revisiting your earlier conversation. “I mean, life on the road isn’t easy or sustainable, trust me, I know.”

“But…” You prompt, knowing fully that he wasn’t going to stop there.

“But it could be fun for a while. If it’s what you wanna do. Hell, I’d totally be a roadie if… you know.”

“I know,” You reply. You’re smiling at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The reminder of your failing business stung, but you didn’t want it to spoil your night. You lean forward, caressing his cheek; his stubble feels rough against your fingers. You gently pull his face forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “I might. I probably will. If it comes to it.”

“I can’t come with you.” He says when you lean away. You hadn’t expected him to want to come with you. Hoped, maybe? But you knew it wasn’t a possibility.

“I know.” You repeat.

He carefully reaches up to run his hand across your damp hair as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is longer, softer than any you’d shared all night. When you’re done, he lets his head fall back against the ground, and you perch yourself against his chest once more. 

“You’ll still call me though, right?”

“Always.” He replies instantly. “You’re my best girl. Well, second-best girl.”

“The car?” You ask deadpan. Of course, the car is his number one.

“Who else?” He replies shamelessly.

You’re not sure how long you stayed like that, entwined in each other’s arms, spent and damp under the stars, until eventually, you feel your lids growing heavy. You fight it for a while, willing yourself to remain awake, until eventually your tiredness wins out. You cuddle closer into the warmth of Dean's chest as you fall asleep.

[bracketsonbrackets]

Alright, time for tournament 10, Supernatural Characters!

I promised someone (i'm sorry to whoever it was) that i would do a Supernatural Characters bracket after the last one i did but i took a longer break than intended.

I know having sam go against dean in the first round is ridiculous but this was chosen randomly by a program so i had no control over it.

As usual, the rules are the same. vote for your favorite based on actor, personality of character, their looks, etc.

And as always, enjoy! 😊

Round 1: July 1, 2024 @ 12 AM

Round 2: July 9, 2024 @ 12 AM

Round 3: July 17, 2024 @ 12 AM

Round 4: July 25, 2024 @ 12 AM

Winner gets announced on July 31, 2024 @ 12 AM

Tagging people to get this going: @worldlxvlys @dean-sam-winchesterbros @supernaturaldaily @supernaturalimagine @winchester-reload @deanwinchesterdaily @samwinchesterblog

[fandomout]

Sam x Reader-Supporting Sam when he started the trials

Personally, throughout most seasons, I felt like Sam just wanted someone to believe in him.

While you were on a hunt away from the boys, you hadn't wrapped up the case just yet, but you were missing the sweet voice of your sweetest Sam, so you called him.

Even though he didn’t answer the first time, he called back right after, which gave you a weird feeling. When he answered, he said, “Hey, Y/N,” a bit too quickly. You raised an eyebrow as your suspicion radar spiked.

Being hunter kept those skills sharp, but the way the boys kept their secrets were the real tests. Testing the water, you simply said, “Nice to hear from you. What are you and Dean doing now? Still at the base?”

“Uh...No actually we are just checking in on Kevin.” The short answer and almost robotic answer didn’t help calm your feeling, but you still answered calmly, “Oh, did anything happen? Everyone okay?”

“He’s been overworking himself.” Sam said sincerely unlike how cautious he was before.

“You guys taking care of him?”

“Of course. What do you take us for?”

“Yeah. Okay. Has he found out anything?”

“Maybe.”

“Does this maybe happen to be dangerous?”

“Let you know when I find out. Me and Dean are heading out soon. Dean just went to get Kevin some real food.”

“Need me to come by. It sounds serious.”

“No. No. Just finish your job and come back. We both should be done by then.” A light bulb went off as you lied, “What if I told you I was done and on my way back now.” You did it with a smile hoping it would be more believable.

“That quick? You probably won’t make it in time to get to us. Think you should wait back at the base.”

“Now, I know something is up. Sam-”

“We’ll be fine. Got to go.”

“Sam, you-” He hangs up. “Better not hang up on me, ass.” You shook your head in frustration. You had more than half a mind to rush over to get to them; however, if it was as dangerous as it sounded to you, you couldn’t put them in danger. Instead, you silently fumed and took it out on the monster you captured and quickly packed to leave.

As you drove back to the base, it cemented your nerves. When you got back to the base, you didn’t really do much. You showered, changed, and you are alone waiting for them to come.

After about 5 hours, they battered at 4am. You rush over, get a better look at them and hug onto both of them. Not saying anything. Dean gives a whistle and looks between you and Sam. He began walking off watching you closely. You stare him down a bit and are about to speak about patching him up when he catches you and states, “I’m just banged up. Couple bruises, I don’t need any help. Thank you. Sam is the real one who-” He stops short with Sam’s looks and walks off briskly. Sam gives you an awkward look and keeps looking back and forth from you to the floor with clenched teeth. You wait for him to speak, but he says nothing. You grab onto his hand and drag him to your shared room.

You sit him down. He sits stiff as if moving a millimeter would set you off. While expecting you to yell and freak out, you burn him with silence from the inside out. As you treat him with the utmost care, he kinda just wished you’d yell instead. Reaching under the bed, you pull out a first aid kit that you keep under the bed, and you begin disinfecting and patching him up. Once you finish, the only words Sam can find are, “I’m sorry.”

Although appreciating the sentiment, you aren't sure what to say and don’t respond to the words, and you start cleaning up the mess of blood and gauze. When you're almost down, Sam unexpectedly uses both of his strong arms to pull you closer by the waist and hugs you. He cuddles his head into your body. You stiffen up a bit while you try to figure out what to do; however, your choice becomes more clear as he explains, “So, the dangerous bit of the job we just did...We did it because we talked to Kevin...turns out we can close the gates of hell if there is someone to do a set of trials…”

You tense up, but Sam responds by rubbing your back up and down gently. Having Sam calm you down a bit, you state, “I’m guessing they're deadly.” He chuckles bitterly and asks, “Isn’t everything we do deadly?” You let out a small laugh in agreement before asking, “What is it this time?”

“Well, the 1st trial was to gut a hellhound and bathe in its blood.”

“That explains the smell on you.” He lets out a genuine laugh as he sees you scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“Yeah. I showered, but here I am still smelling.”

“So, you and Dean do these trials? I can understand why, but why did you make it seem so worrisome? Like you freaked, which made me freak. Why couldn’t I be there?”

“For one, I knew you’d think we were idiots. You might want to do the trials yourself. I mean Dean got really crazy about it. He was seemingly suicidal. I couldn’t have that. The important bit that I need to tell you is that...it’s not me and Dean. It’s just me.”

“Just you?”

“For the trials? Dean tried to put himself in the way, but I finished it. Therefore, I have to do all the trials by myself...“ You stay silent. You stroke his hair softly for a second., and he looks up at you. You meet his eyes and say ,”Okay”, as you put the 1st aid back under the bed. He blinks roughly at you with a confused expression and questions you with, “I’m sorry?”

“I said it’s okay. Sam.” You tap his head a little and ask, “Are you hungry? I can whip us up someth-”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“That can’t be what you want to say.”

“You’re not hungry then?” He wipes his face with his hand and states, “Just say what you're thinking.”

“I don’t need to. I’m genuinely just asking if your hungry-”

“After what I just said, you’re not up-”

“Sam, I’m not upset.”

“Mad?”

“No-None of that…”

“Really? You're not gonna yell or hit me or something.”

“Of course not, Sam. What do you take me for?” You laugh out loud.

You walk over to him and put one hand to land on the back of his neck while the other lands on his heart. You sigh softly and kiss his forehead before telling him, ”While yeah, I’m not exactly thrilled you're risking your life yet again…Probably going to hate seeing you bloody and messed up from all of this...but I’m gonna be here for you and try and help as best I can.” You put your forehead to his and add, “Because I believe in you.”

His expression becomes so soft, and he lifts his head slightly to meet his lips to yours. You enjoy the free and floating sensation he gives you even, but you pull away when you feel something wet on your face. You open your eyes and pull away. You become worried seeing the tears fleeing his eyes and feel your heart clench when he clings his grapes onto your clothes like he’ll slip away from you. Your hands rush to his shoulders to ground him, and you express, “Sam, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He shakes his head and bites his lip. “Sam, don’t scare me baby...Look, everything is okay. Well, it’s never really, but we make sure. Don’t be worried, please...say something…”

His head nuzzles your chest and he speaks against your body, and you almost don’t hear him say, “Thank you for believing in me.” You hold him and rub his back until he calms a bit. You wipe the streak along his face and respond, “Of course I believe...How could I not? Look at me, okay?”

He meets your eyes. You show him teary eyes because his state makes you overwhelmed and you continue to say, ”I hope you don’t mind me saying this but also I know demons and hell have taken so much from you and Dean. The things they've done to you- anyway I understand it’s for the greater good and something you want to do. Also, I’ve seen you through the self-hate, the struggle with demon blood, and acceptance to yourself and what you’ve done...I know all you ever wanted was someone to believe, and I do. Never doubt that...You’re the best person I know, Sam...really.”

He takes the hand you had on his neck and kisses it gently from the knuckles to the finger to the palm and to your wrist and forearm. Against your arm, he utters, “I love you so much.” You caress his head before making him look at you and you pepper kisses all over his face. Then, you wrap your arms around him and say, “I love you too, Sam...I will say though...I’m not looking forward to the fights you and Dean will have over this.” He lets out a genuine laugh along with you and you both bask in the comfort of each other's arms.

Hope your day got better

SPN Masterlist

Full Masterlist

[thevampnatural]

So I just started on here. I’m trying find many platform to wrote my stories. My FanFiction.Net is moonlightxdaroline and on Wattpad also. I usually write Vampire Diaries FanFiction. I am going to start writing Supernatural ones too. So you can request an imagine of either TVD/TO/LGCS/SPN related. Byeee!

[burntsecrets]

Dodging Cupid's Arrows

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2630

Prompt: Cupid's Got A Shotgun by Carrie Underwoods

Summary: An encounter with Cupid forces you to face your feelings for the Winchester Brothers.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, unresolved romantic tension, fear of emotional vulnerability, self-doubt, internal conflict, unrequited love, intense emotional introspection, defensive behavior, discussion of emotional scars, mentions of past relationship trauma, slow burn, protective behavior, Cupid intervention, romantic frustration.

The bar’s dim, sputtering light casts a weak glow overhead, barely illuminating the worn wooden tables and the scuffed floor beneath your boots. Shadows cling to the walls like old memories, and you sink deeper into your chair, swirling the last of your whiskey in the glass before taking a slow sip. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat, spreading a fleeting warmth through your chest, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging in your head. It never does.

It’s the same pattern every time, isn’t it? Men with honeyed words slip into your life, leaving behind promises as thin as smoke, promises they never intend to fulfill. Before you know it, you're left standing in the wreckage of something that wasn’t even real, just a mirage of what could have been. All those "almosts" stack up like bricks, weighing heavy on your heart, and even though you’ve never had a real relationship, it feels like you've been left shattered more times than you can count.

The scars are there, even if no one else can see them. They linger in every moment a guy brushes you off, in the hollow smile you force when you know it's not real. You feel the sting in every glance that sizes you up like you’re a prize to be won rather than a person to know. So you’ve built your walls, layering them high and thick until nothing, no one, can break through. Not even him.

Or them.

Sam and Dean Winchester—they didn’t just walk into your life. No, they crashed into it, two forces of nature that bulldozed right through your carefully constructed defenses, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way you swore you’d never be again. At first, you tried to play it cool, act like they were just hunters, comrades in arms. But the months blurred together, and now you can’t even tell how long it’s been. And that scares you because losing track means losing control and losing control means letting them in.

And letting them in? That’s not an option.

Even now, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their presence lingering in the air like a storm cloud ready to break. Sam’s by the pool table, his lean, tall frame moving with practiced ease as he lines up shot after shot. There’s a calm to him, but it’s the kind that keeps you on edge, like he could switch in an instant and suddenly be dangerous. Then there’s Dean, perched at the bar with a half-empty beer in hand, his eyes flicking between the room and you, constantly scanning for threats, always watching. 

Always watching you.

They’re protective. It should comfort you, but it drives you insane. Because the truth is, no matter how many monsters they face, no matter how many battles they fight, they can’t protect you from what matters most. They can’t protect you from yourself.

You think back to the last hunt, to the ridiculousness of it all—a damn Cupid, of all things. The little winged freak zeroed in on you from the moment you stepped into that abandoned church, those bright, beady eyes tracking you with unnerving precision. He wasn’t cute, not like the Valentine's Day cards would have you believe. No, this thing was more like a demented cherub, armed with arrows dipped in cosmic mischief, and he had you in his crosshairs. You could feel it in the air—the tug, the weight, as though Cupid himself was hell-bent on forcing you to confront feelings you’d buried so deep even you were beginning to forget they existed. Each arrow he loosed sent your heart racing, as if you could sense the emotional mess he was trying to weave. But you dodged them all, every last one, determined not to let some glorified matchmaker unravel everything you’d worked so hard to lock away.

You're not stupid. You know precisely what the little bastard was aiming for. It’s not like you’ve been blind to the way Sam’s gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, soft and curious, like he’s trying to piece you together. Or the way Dean’s jaw tightens, a flicker of possessiveness in his green eyes, whenever some random guy at a bar edges too close, his whole demeanor shifting to silent warning. You’ve been dodging these unspoken glances for months now, sidestepping their care, their questions, like someone dancing around a minefield. Because you know that once you stop moving, it’ll all explode in your face.

And you’ve had enough explosions in your life.

But there’s only so much running you can do before the inevitable catches up.

“Hey.”

Dean’s gravelly voice slices through the whirlwind of your thoughts, rough but steady, anchoring you as he slides into the seat beside you. His presence is a weight that presses into the air, solid, almost suffocating in its certainty. The chair creaks beneath him, but all you hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, thundering in your chest.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking, but it’s more than that. It’s the question beneath the question, the one you’ve been dodging for longer than you can remember.

Your heart skips a beat—a betraying thud that echoes in the hollowness you’ve tried to keep locked down. You’d never admit it, not even to yourself, but he makes it impossible to pretend. You glance at him, careful to keep your face neutral, masking the fluttering in your chest with a look you’ve perfected over years of pretending. It’s almost second nature by now—the practiced nonchalance. But with Dean, it’s always been different.

There’s something in the way his green eyes bore into yours, piercing through the walls you’ve built brick by brick, layer by layer. It’s as though he sees right past your armor, straight into that small, fragile part of you that still aches for something real. Something more. But you can’t let him see that. You won’t. So you shove it down, hard, pushing that flicker of vulnerability back into the shadows as you lean casually into your chair. Your body language distant, closed off.

“Yeah,” you shrug, the lie slipping from your lips as easily as breathing. “Just tired. Long day.”

Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just watches you with that familiar intensity, and you know—you know—he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. He’s seen you fight, seen you bleed, seen you crawl out of the wreckage of hunts that should’ve killed you. He’s seen you at your worst, and somehow, he still sticks around. He and Sam both do, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? They’ve gotten too close, wedged themselves into your life in ways that make it impossible for you to keep pretending.

Pretending that you don’t care.

Pretending that the way Dean looks at you doesn’t unravel something deep inside.

From across the room, you feel Sam’s eyes on you. His quiet gaze tracks the shift in the atmosphere as he casually leans his pool cue against the table and makes his way over, long strides slow but purposeful. His expression is calm and unreadable, but you see the concern in the tightness of his jaw and the subtle way his brow furrows as he joins Dean at your side.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam says softly, folding his arms across his broad chest. There’s no judgment in his tone, just that frustrating gentleness, the kind that makes you feel seen when you’d rather stay hidden. “Is it… about earlier? With Cupid?”

The mention of Cupid sends a sharp twist through your stomach. You swallow, forcing down the surge of emotions that threatens to rise, burying it beneath layers of practiced indifference. You won’t let some stupid angel with a bow and arrow undo everything you’ve worked so hard to keep locked away. You won’t.

“I’m fine,” you snap, the words slipping out too fast, too harsh. The crack in your voice betrays you. “That was nothing. Just another hunt.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the weight of Sam’s stare, too, both of them pinning you with that all-too-familiar look. The one that says they’re not buying your crap, the one that makes your pulse quicken, and your chest tighten. You hate that look because it leaves you nowhere to hide.

“Bullshit.” Dean’s voice is low, steady, cutting through the silence with calm certainty. He takes a long sip from his beer, but his eyes never leave yours, and it feels like he’s peeling back every layer you’ve carefully put up to protect yourself. “You’ve been dodging that thing like it was the plague, and don’t think we didn’t notice.”

You clench your hands into fists in your lap, frustration bubbling up like a rising tide. “Look,” you say, your voice sharp, defensive. “I don’t need some magical arrow telling me how I’m supposed to feel. I’m fine the way I am.”

Sam shifts beside Dean, his arms still crossed, but you see the way the muscle in his jaw tenses, the way his hazel eyes soften as they search yours. “It’s not about what you’re supposed to feel,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s about what you do feel.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, it’s all too much. The weight of their concern, the intensity of their gaze, the truth that they’re trying to force you to admit—it presses down on you until you can’t breathe. You stand up abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor as you push it back. The sound is harsh, jarring in the quiet of the bar, but you barely notice.

“I don’t feel anything, okay?” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Not for you, not for him, not for anyone. And I won’t let some winged freak tell me otherwise.”

The tension in the air thickens, suffocating, hanging between the three of you like a storm cloud ready to break. Dean stands up slowly, his movements deliberate, his face carefully neutral, but there’s something in his eyes—something raw, something that cuts deeper than you want to admit. Hurt, maybe. Disappointment. You can’t think about it. You won’t.

“Y’know,” Dean says quietly, taking a step toward you, his voice low and steady, “you keep saying that, but you don’t believe it. Not really.” He’s close now, too close, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves, and it makes your pulse spike. “You’re just scared.”

Your heart slams against your ribs, your breath catching in your throat. Fear coils tightly around your chest, but not the fear of them. No, it’s the fear of what they’re asking you to do. To let them in. To trust them. To stop running.

And running is all you know how to do.

“I’m not scared,” you whisper, but the words feel weak and empty, even to you.

Dean’s lips twitch into a small, humorless smile, his eyes softening just a fraction as he watches you. “Yeah, you are,” he says, his voice gentler now but no less intense. “And that’s okay. But maybe it’s time you stopped running from it.”

Sam steps closer, his presence steady and calm, grounding you in a way that you don’t want to admit you need. His voice is soft, full of quiet understanding, but there’s an unshakable strength beneath it. “You don’t have to do this alone, y’know,” he says. “We’re here. We always have been.”

The words sink into you, settling deep into the cracks of your carefully guarded heart, and something inside you shifts. Just a little. It’s terrifying, the idea of trusting them, of letting yourself hope, but there’s also something achingly beautiful about it. About the possibility that maybe, for once, you don’t have to be the one to leave first. That maybe, you don’t have to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

But still, the fear—the bone-deep, soul-crushing fear of opening up, of letting someone in only to be left behind again—is overwhelming and paralyzing.

“I can’t,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper now, trembling under the weight of the truth you’re too afraid to admit. “I can’t risk it.”

Dean’s hand reaches out slowly, cautiously, like he knows one wrong move could send you running. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers, calloused from years of hunting, gently find yours, and instead of just holding your wrist, he entwines his fingers with yours, locking them together with a quiet but unspoken promise. The touch is soft yet firm, his thumb grazing the back of your hand in slow, soothing strokes, as if he’s trying to reassure you with every heartbeat. The warmth of his skin against yours sends a shiver up your spine, igniting something deep inside you, something you’ve kept buried for so long you almost forgot it was there.

You feel the weight of his presence settle over you like a blanket, heavy with meaning, but there’s nothing suffocating about it. It’s grounding, steady—safe. And yet, that safety terrifies you because it’s the kind you’ve convinced yourself you don’t deserve. But Dean, he isn’t giving you a choice. Not this time.

His other hand comes up slowly, his movements deliberate and gentle, as if he’s afraid you might bolt at any second. His palm cups your cheek, warm and rough, but his touch is tender, almost reverent. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone, wiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. The simple motion cracks something inside you, and for a moment, it feels like the walls you’ve built so carefully over the years are crumbling under the weight of his touch.

"Maybe you’re not the only one taking a risk here," Dean murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper. His words hang between you, heavy and raw, filled with all the things he’s never said but has always felt. His eyes search yours, and in them, you see it—the longing, the fear, the desperate hope that you’ll stay, that you’ll finally let them in. That you’ll choose them.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours, anchoring you to the moment. His thumb continues its slow, tender sweep across your cheek, and the tenderness in his gaze is enough to break your heart. This man, this infuriating, stubborn, protective man, who has fought demons and monsters and everything in between, is standing here with his heart wide open, asking you to stop running. Asking you to be with him and his brother in a way that terrifies you more than any hunt ever could.

For the first time, you feel the weight of what’s at stake—not just for you, but for him, for Sam. This isn’t just about you being afraid of getting hurt. It’s about them too, about the risk they’re taking by loving you, by wanting you to be a part of their lives. And it hits you with such force that you almost can’t breathe. They aren’t asking for your walls to come down—they’re asking to stand beside them. To hold you through the fear, through the pain, through whatever comes next.

You stare up at Dean, his hand still cradling your face like you’re something precious, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder—really wonder—if maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one with something to lose.

Because you can feel it now—the risk they’re taking, the way they’re holding their breath, waiting for your answer, waiting for you to finally say yes. And in that moment, you realize that they’ve already decided. They’ve already chosen you.

It’s your turn to choose them.

taglist // @spnfanficpond @spnfans

[shay67ss]

GO CHECK OUT MY INSTA!!! WHERE I MAKE IMAGINES!!! I'd love the appreciation and would love some requests!!

#sammywinchester #samwinchesterimagine #samimagines #sammyimagine #samsupernatural #samedit #sammywinchester #samwinchesterimagine #Supernatural #JaredPadalecki #myimagine #mywritings #Supernatural #supernaturalfamily #supernaturalsquad #supernaturalimagine #supernaturalimagines #supernaturaledits #sammoose #moose #supernaturalsamwinchester #imaginesam #imagineedits #imaginingsamwinchesteredits #spnimagines #SPNFamily #spn #spnfandom #spnedits #spnsam #spnfanfiction #spnsamwinchester #spnimaginesam . . . . . . . . . . ○❤🧡💛💚💙💜🖤○ Taglist: @starryangelimagines https://www.instagram.com/p/B-WpMVQnfle/?igshid=xl9dhujdig53

[brifaith-lovinlife]

I Wrote You Something...

"I. Hate. College!" I yelled into the bunker, slamming the door before heading up to mine and Sam's room. I stomped up the stairs, being greeted by an empty room. Yanking my backpack off, I tossed it by the bed; happy to have it off my shoulders.

My hands came up to rub my eyes. A dull headache, slowly becoming worse. Why does math have to be so hard?! Ugh...

Knocking pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up and there stood Sam. That beautiful, dorky smile I never tire of. He looked around like he was nervous. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a note. "I wrote you something." Was that a blush I spied creeping onto his cheeks? Taking the note, I unfolded it and began to read....

My y/n,

You're the most amazing girl I have ever met. You meet every challenge fearlessly; laughing at failure.

Don't even get me started on your smile. It's the eighth wonder of the world. It's warm, it's bright; it fights all of my darkness away. Your eyes are a beautiful sea I love to imagine I'm sailing in when I look at you. Full of love and passion.

Y/n, being a hunter is a hard life to lead. But everyday, YOU inspire me to keep going, to give every hunt my best shot. To make every moment count. To never take a single second that we have- esoecially together- for granted. You're so much more to me than just my girlfriend and fellow hunter. You're home. You're MY home. I love you so much.

Xoxo, Sam

Tears raced down my face as I crashed into his arms. He chuckled. "You like my note?" My lips met his in a thankful kiss. "I love it and you. So much." He reached down and took my hands. "Whataya say we give this homework a try; after cookies of course. " I mirrored his smile. " Chocolate chip?" He shot me almost an offended look. "Is there any other kind?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for this request @obsessedwithtoomanyfandoms ! This was so much fun to write! I do hope you enjoy! Much love, Bri 💕

[blacksheepfucked-blog]

Essa Fanart fez meu coração doer. 💔 #supernatural #supernaturalfamily #supernaturalart #supernaturallife #supernaturalfandom #supernaturallove #supernaturalfans #supernaturalbrasil #supernaturals #supernaturaltvshow #supernaturalimagines #supernaturaltumblr #supernaturalfanart #supernaturalfan #supernaturalimagine #supernaturalforever #supernaturalcw #supernaturalbr #supernaturalwarner #supernaturalscenes #supernaturalcastiel #supernaturaldean #supernaturalseason15 #supernaturalfam #supernaturalchuck #supernaturalcass #supernaturalsam #supernaturalsammy #winchester #winchesterboys https://www.instagram.com/p/B8xY8YehARW/?igshid=ptrxknpfnz80

[dyingswanpavlova]

not that guy (1) - lucifer x reader

Warnings: language, claustrophobia.

Author’s note: not to be that gurl, but since English isn’t my first language, please be kind about (spelling, grammar) mistakes - Cough...I’m not so good with criticism. Thank you. <3

“It’s all your fault.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yup, you heard me. Without your overly hyped sense of justice we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Suddenly you felt how heat filled up your cheeks and you could no longer hold yourself back.

“If I was you”, you said trying to remain calm, “I’d be quiet now.”

“Oh, if you were me I’d be concerned about much different things”, he grinned and turned away as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

You sighed and pushed yourself back. Only enough so that you didn’t have to look in his face to be constantly reminded of your miserable position. The cold steel of the elevator freshened the skin of your shoulders for a bit, but the heat came back very quickly. Suddenly you felt some sort of nausea coming over you. You slowly closed your eyes and opened them again. It was useless - everything in front of your eyes was slowly losing its colors.

“What- Come on, you can’t tell me that you’re seriously claustrophobic. We’ve got like a lot bigger problems.” He wiped it off with his stupid joky voice that he usually used but he sounded a bit more uncomfortable than usual. He narrowed his eyes.

“Hell-o, is someone home?”

It surely was because he wasn’t going wild on the thought of being stuck in this devilish-safe elevator with someone who was about to lose their consciousness, just to tilt over into his direction...and make all of this even more uncomfortable.

“Y/N?”

You wanted to make a sassy comment about the upcoming tension in his voice, but before you could even think about opening your mouth, you felt how the whole elevator seemed fall down.

“Woah, okay, okay. What in the...”

You expected to end up with your head on the floor pretty quickly but instead you felt a pair of cold hands framing your face. In that second you realized the elevator hadn’t gone anywhere, it was still stuck - instead you had fallen over. You couldn’t move or speak, you just felt your blood rushing very fast. Suddenly everything felt huge on you.

You let Lucifer lead your way down to the floor eventually. He sat with his knees bent and carefully placed your head on his leg. He didn’t say anything but you still heard how his breathing had changed. You couldn’t say anything. Instead you were pretty busy having a physical breakdown.

Funnily enough, you hadn’t had a claustrophobic breakdown since your early teenage days, but somehow the stress of the last weeks, finding Jack, keeping Lucifer busy and head-on-earth and now even being stuck with him in this tiny device. You felt how your chest started lifting and lowering unnaturally fast. Were that tears on your face? You couldn’t tell. The only thing you felt was that clod in your throat.

Surprisingly, all of his former chuckling and joking around had vanished. Instead you felt how his fingertips wandered up and down in your hair, causing you breathing to go a bit easier.

“Just breathe, okay? You’ll be okay”, he whispered as if he was afraid someone might hear.

After some time - you couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours - you felt well enough to at least open your eyes again. When you found the world wasn’t spinning too fast anymore, you carefully looked for his eyes in the weak light that the elevator offered. You found he was already looking at you, partly surprised and partly with something you might wanna call real concern.

He didn’t say anything, but you felt how his hand slowly slipped alongside your cheek. While one hand was making sure your head didn’t tip over the edge, the other hand was cautiously caressing the skin of your neck, softly feeling your heartbeat and wandering back up. Through all of this his eyes never let go of yours so he could tell if you consented to him doing it.

Suddenly you felt that heat in your cheeks again but this time it wasn’t caused by nausea. Not at all, but instead by the way it suddenly felt to be held by him like that. The two of you had touched before, well, as in ordinary one might say. Hiding in the bunker, hiding from Michael, hiding in the bunker again, cruisin’ all day and listening to his o so horrible jokes caused by his lack of anything near humor...

“Is this better?”, his lips formed almost silently.

You nodded slowly instead of giving him a straight out answer. Your heartbeat was going faster and faster.

Sure, the last few weeks had caused the two of you to somehow grow together for a bit. But that was all natural, wasn’t it? That’s what happens when you spend most of your time with someone, even someone as evil as the devil himself...Or wasn’t it?

Oh my, is he going to kiss me?, you asked yourself. Silently you protested against yourself for even allowing to only think of something as ridiculous and almost insulting to yourself, when...

“I got it! I got it! Just one more second! Pull harder, Sammy!”

All of a sudden you heard how the elevator doors opened and never before had your head rushed up as quickly. You pulled yourself together and jumped up as if you had never felt any sort of dizzy.

“Oh man, are you okay? How long have you been in here?”

You felt the tightness of Dean hugging you and holding you close for a whole while before you allowed yourself to breathe again. When you pulled back, Dean gave you a quick kiss on the lips and then pulled you with him.

“Come on, dickhead, get going!”, he shouted over his shoulder. You could’ve sworn that your eyes had met his for just one second too long, before you realized he was staring at the floor and you were staring at him.

You took your view off abruptly and instead pushed yourself on the passenger seat of Dean’s impala. Never in your whole existence would you ever allow yourself to think such nonsense again.

Never.

If only it was that simple...

[fandomout]

Sam x Reader-Dean secretly not secretly hates you/is jealous of you, and Sam finds out

I've seen a lot of hate happen around me to me for no reason to be present. It inspired me to write this one. I hope no one's on either end of that. It must be exhausting to be filled with hate. Then, to be the one being attacked is obviously so detrimental to a person regardless if effort is made to be on good terms. I am sorry to anyone who has ever gone through irrational hate.

This is lots of angst, sad times, fluff, maybe some laughs. Hope you enjoy!

Warning! A very small reference to smut but no actual smut, fighting, injury, mentions of blood.

Word count: 4,601 (I was having trouble with the keep reading tab on mobile, so I took it off as to not inconvenience anyone who might end with the same issue so sorry for the long post.)

You’d just finished making Sam some breakfast. He sat down, and you drape your arms across his chest just enjoying his warmth and presence when Dean trudged up to you two. You presented a smile and queried, “Morning, Want me to make you something, Dean?” 

“No. Why would I want that?” He snapped. Sam felt your hands come together and clench against him. Sam gave Dean a glare, but his voice followed playful to say, “Don’t mind Dean, Y/N. He just hasn’t had his morning coffee.” His hand comes up to rest on your cheek before he arches his neck to you with puckered lips and closed eyes. You gave in, and the kiss eased you from Dean's behavior. As you looked to Dean heading to the coffee, you couldn't help ask, “I could make you a cup of-”

“No thanks. I doubt you know how I like it.” Dean walks right past you.

With a bit of food still in Sam’s mouth, he muttered, “Just the coffee. He doesn’t usually act like that.”

“Right." You gave Sam a quick grin and let it drop when Sam turned back to his food, muttering, "He doesn’t usually act like that…" You sat next to Sam and kept the smile up.

Later in the day, when you had a chance, you went up to Dean. Instantly, you asked, “Dean, can you tell me why-”

“No.”

“Dean, you never even give me a good enough reason as to why you-”

“How about you being so annoying that you need validation?”

“Hey-You know it’s more than that. We need to coexist for Sam. We can’t be like this with him around. How would he feel if he knew you didn’t-”

“You’re going to criticize how I handle my brother?” He cocked his head at you.

“I didn’t mean-” Dean cut you off to darkly utter, “Mine. You might want to rethink that, "Y/N. I was here first and-”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been trying to make this work.”

“I’m years worth more than you’ll ever be, so I’d be more careful how you talk to me.” You wanted to speak out, but you choked up. The action left a smile and almost a skip in his step while leaving you with once again a heavy heart.

Sam, you, and Dean all headed out to finish your last hunt. A monster that was all the way from Latin legend with a name you couldn’t even begin to pronounce, called cipatli. It had the appearance of an alligator, and it had 18 mouths on it. In the past it had bodied whole small towns. Luckily, you and Sam were able to deduce that there was an old spell that could get the job done.

The creature was pretty strong though, and it had a few hostages around. You were all struggling to keep any harm from going to the innocents. All trying to get a hit at the boss when you could. It wasn’t going so well, and Dean and Sam were getting a bit overpowered; however, you knew if this was going to work that you needed there to be more focus on your side of the room, so the spell could be finished. The spell only required two people. While you’d learned the spell, your Latin was a little rough, and Sam and Dean were the real experts on that.

Suddenly, you remembered having read that the beast can be distracted by its own foot. While Sam and Dean took that fact with a grain of salt, you brought a sword from the base in hand. You did your best to cut at it’s foot. It roared in anguish, and the foot came off, which made the creature wobble. This allowed Sam and Dean to keep reciting while you moved back, and the foot spasmed in your hand. It’s sharp teeth on the leg were still itching for a bite.

Before your eyes, the beast leg came growing back, and it turned to rush toward you, which made you drop the foot.

In the, moment, you called to Sam and Dean, “Keep going with the spell!” Dean was quick to keep going with his words along with helping people out of the area. Currently, under attack, you’d lose your footing. You fell to the ground. You attempt to use the word as a barrier before the creature actually bites your head off. You did your best to stand, but the beast still managed to bang you against the wall.

The site halted Sam's words, and he grabbed onto the monster's foot and called out to it while holding the foot and burning it; In turn, Dean had to stop short of words too. Sam watched as the monster let you go, and you dropped to the ground.

Dean stopped short at the sight in front him. You fell to the ground as the Dean went to Sam and Dean rushed over to Sam that was just thrown against the wall too, which left him unconscious.

“Don’t just stand there, the spell!” Dean said.

You jumped up and rushed to slice up the beast and recite the spell. You start fumbling with your words, and Dean hollers out the right words. You finish the spell. The monster erupts in a green light with a small force along with. The force left you holding yourself up against the wall.

You weren't to worried about the need of support when you searched for Sam as your vision moving all over the place. Luckily, you catch sight of Dean helping Sam up. Then, Sam rushed over to you and asked, “Are you okay?” You groaned out in response.

”Sweetie, please say something...”

“S-Sam, are you okay?” 

Sam let out a breath of relief and answered, “Fine. You?”

“It was just a little rough. I’m good.” You raise yourself, wobbly so, and Sam holds you up. 

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

“No, I can-”

"You're hurt. Let me do this...please." You nod and let him incase you in his arms since you knew he found comfort in helping you. The whole time Dean can only burn lasers into the interaction before him. 

With the job being done, you all make your way to the impala. Time goes on, and your head pounded, which made you sleep. It alarmed Sam at first, but you seemed peaceful so he allowed it. Out of nowhere, Dean harshly expressed, “Y/N better not bleed all over my-” Sam scoffed and bit back, “Dean, They’re hurt. Be more considerate. It-” Dean didn’t let him finish barking back, “What the hell was that back there?” 

“What?”

“You lost focus because of them.”

“Dean, they could have died.”

“You should’ve finished strong, but no-Y/N ruin-”

“Stop right there. They did just as much out there as we did.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Can’t even get a damn incantation right.”

“Dean, they did their best-”

“Their best isn’t what we need out there. They will ruin you, Sam. It’s life or-”

“Don’t even say it, you remember it took you forever to learn-”

“They are going to get you killed.”

“That’s not how it works and you know it. The evil bastards out there in the world are to blame. Don’t talk about Y/N like that again.”

"Whatever dude." 

When you guys got back to the bunker, Dean darted away in silent fuming while Sam shook you awake. You sat up and licked at your dry lips before smacking your lips. Sam smiled at the action and ran a hand through your hair lovingly. He moved out of the car first, and he held a hand out to help you out of the car. You both walked into the bunker where Dean was going through the fridge already. He met eyes with the both of you. You squint your eyes out of Sam’s view awaiting Dean’s discontent with you; instead, for once, you were surprised Dean didn't say anything as he walked off to his room. The action actually made you feel better. You hoped Dean was coming around to you even a little bit if he was biting his tongue for once. 

Suddenly, with nothing else to focus on, yours' and Sam’s stench hit your nose. You scratched your nose in distaste and commented, "We stink. How about a shower?" Sam gave you a smirk before replying, "To get clean I agree, hun." 

He began to undress himself quickly and easily while you struggled. When Sam, who was already naked, looked back over to you, he’d seen that you’d only gotten your pants off, but you noticed there was a cut along his elbow. You call out, "Sam…", and you show it to him. He strains to take a look at it as you take out the first aid from the cabinet and start tentatively cleaning the cut. Having given more time than necessary on the cut, Sam jokes, "You’d think I was losing my whole arm from how you're treating me. I think you're overdoing it for a cut." 

"Just making sure." Sam smiles knowingly and says, "Yeah. Okay. You're stalling. It's your turn." He waves you over. "Come on."

"I've got it. Thank you very much." You attempt to peel the shirt over you, but you are only met with pain. You suck in a breath in shock. Losing the smile, Sam rushes over to gently raise your shirt only to reveal a large gash and multiple bruises on the side of your abdomen. He winces for you and mutters, “Oof Y/N, that looks bad."

"Why thanks, Sam." You laugh; of course, it only causes pain. Sam notices and cradles your head in his hands and kisses your forehead.

"I think it would be better if I just mutilated this shirt off of you." You nod as the pain really sets in. He finds a pair of scissors in the first aid and starts cutting through. Now fully exposed, he could see all the damage and his eyes clouded up.

"Sam...I'm really sorry about earlier…"

"For what?"

"Slipping up on the spell."

"Come on, that hunt was pretty doomed from the beginning. Let me clean the wounds." You allow him and he continues. "It's not like you generally deal with old Latin anyway."

"Right."

"Seriously, we all did our best out there, and I know that to be truer when I am talking about you."

"Aw-” Sam quickly applies peroxide onto you, cutting you off. You exclaim ”Ow!" You give him a stern look, and he just smiles innocently not looking you in the eyes. You playfully hit his arm and ask, "Did you just compliment me to distract me?" 

"No. No…" He gave you a peck on your lips and pulled away to say, "I thought of it half way through what I was saying. I really meant it. Believe in you the way you believe in me.” He rubbed your arm sweetly. In response, you lay your hand on his cheek and rub gently with your thumb, which makes him widely smile. You shrug before saying, "Alright. I'll believe you. Come on, let's shower." You grab his hand and lead him inside. You gently wash each other. Well, more Sam washing you, sadly; you're too hurt. 

When you finish, Sam is quick to seal your wound. You both had dried yourselves off best you could, and you were about ready to change when Sam motions for you to stop. 

"What is it, Sam?" 

"Look, just-" He motions "stay" before wrapping a towel around his waist and walking out. You wait patiently for a good 30 seconds. He returned clothed in pjs. with a pair of your bottoms and single of his shirts in his hand. He held them out to you and simply told you, “Wear my shirt.”

“What for?”

“Something bigger on you will give you something not really restricting, so you won’t be in so much pain.”

“I think you just want me in your shirt, but okay I’m too tired to argue.”

"Can't argue with that last part. I am beat." He helps you get it into it and hugs onto you along with a nuzzling of his nose to your shoulder. You giggle at him, and he pulls back to pull you into a kiss, which you relay in the same intensity he was giving you. The kisses become lazier and lazier but not any less love filled. Against your lips, he says, “I’d really like to continue this more, but I am really tired.”

“Me too, but don't worry we will be back for more." 

"Yes we will." Sam and you cling to each other and walk over to the bed until you both lay down. 

He huddles into your chest as you have your arm around his neck and the other hand is rated on his face gently stroking it until you both fall asleep. You loved him in your arms at night when you felt safe and thought he could be safe.

In the middle of the night, you wake up with thirst creeping at your throat.

“I’ll be right back. I’m thirsty. I’ll bring you some water.”

“M’k.”

You were quick and quiet, drinking a glass of water and refilling it to bring it back for Sam. You were on your way back to the room when you suddenly saw Dean’s figure a few feet away just staring. You stumble back and hold your heart and gasp, “Jesus, Dean, why would you creep on me like that?” 

“Kinda need to be good at that for the job.”

“That didn’t sound as good or cool as you thought it did.” You grinned. It seemed like he almost wanted to too instead he raised a quick brown and said, “We need to talk.” 

You lay the water on the counter and gesture for him to continue. “What are you doing?”

“What do you-”

“With Sam.” He stepped forward. 

“That doesn't make it any clearer-”

“You were terrible today on our hunt.”

“I know. The incantation was-”

“Bare minimum.” He stepped forward again. It was getting more tense for you the closer he got. Those two steps closing lots of space between you two due to his height. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I messed up a bit, but I got it in the end. If we ever need it again, I’ll be ready. I promise.”

“Oh-Will you?” You were feeling attacked and found it in yourself to counter, “Yes, I will.”

“That's great and all, but what about every other issue you cause. It-”

”Issues?”

“You’re a distraction to Sam. That’s dangerous. You know it is-”

“Sam is capable of thinking for himself. I don’t think you really believe I’m worth enough to distract him.”

“Hey, you're right for once. I don’t think you're enough for him. You-”

“Dean, you may not like me, but don’t go making assumptions you can't back up. You’ve hated me for the longest time, and I don’t get why. But-” You were tearing up. He was now towering over you a scowl covering his face not liking that you were fighting back.

“You’re going to ruin him. You will ruin Sam. I can't have that. If you really care about him, you’ll leave, so there can be something better for him.”

“I-I…”

“You know it’s true. Stop kidding yourself.” He spat and walked away. 

You choked up a lump in your throat not wanting to go down so that you could cough out a bit, which brought tears down. You did your best to calm down but couldn't seem to. You drank a bit of water and walked back with silent tears coming out. You laid on top of Sam holding on for dear life. You breathed in and out trying not to make a sound. However, slight hiccups, huffs of breath, and small whimpers rang out. Sometimes audible, others muffled, others silent from shear suppression.

In the morning, Sam woke up first. Seeing your puffy eyes and tear stained face, he shook you awake. “Honey, you okay?” You groaned in response being so tired. He grabbed at your face and wiped it gently. He held you gently. He scoots up to hug you close. He slouched down to be in front of you with pure worry sparkling from his beautiful eyes. You laid your right thumb on his chin gently stroking it while your other hand was running through his hair near his ear. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

You drank him in trying to find the strength to do what you thought would be best. You whimpered out, “I-I love you.” He smiled slightly at how heartfelt the statement was. Sam reciprocated with just as much love filled words, “I love you too, but you don’t need to cry because I’m so great.” He attempted his best hair flip, which made you and him laugh; however, your laughter dialed back quickly. 

“I love you, so…" You look up at him with sad eyes.

"So?" 

Your mouth goes dry. You look to the door as if Dean were standing there. You shake your head at him. And say, "So, I'm gonna need a minute or so to get out of bed because Dean will make fun of me for being a big baby." You fake a smile and Sam laughs and you laugh dryly luckily masked by Sam. He nods and says, "I am okay with that. Also, don't be so dramatic. I thought you were gonna say something that would make my heart drop, I swear. Facial expression matters." He points out playfully before kissing you again. You smile and answer, "Well aware, Sam. I love you."

“I love you too. Be right back, I’ll make us breakfast in bed.” 

“You don’t-” He doesn't let you finish already knowing what you're going to say. He moves up along the bed on all fours to have his face in front of you, and he says, “Want to, sweetheart.” Kissing you once more before leaving the room. You frown and hug onto yourself thinking of what could come in the future.

Later, in the day, you went through Dean’s stash of food and disposed of most of it. While it was a part of your plan to leave, you had to admit it felt good to have an upper hand on Dean for once.

Having disposed of the items, you tippy toed your way over to Dean while Sam wasn’t around, which only earned you a glare.

"I-"

"I knew you didn't love-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Dean, I'm a lot of things and say what you want, but I love Sam so much...so much. I don't want to hear another word about that, Dean."

"But-"

"But what? I'm still here? Well aware. Look, I need you to go to the store with Sam.”

“You bossing me around?” He challenges.

“Matter of fact, yes. I need you to go with him. I’m sure you need stuff anyway.” He put a hand on his hip and answered, “Actually, I think I’m all set.”

“Sure about that?”

“Am I sure?” Dean dryly laughed. “You really felt like poking the bear this morning.”

He shook his head in amusement, and he answered, “I’ll bite.” He walked over to his stash with a pleasant smile that dropped in an instant after he realized. You gave a knowing eyebrow and smiled his way. He cleared his throat and answered, “I’ll go. Not because you told me to, but I could use a few things. Also, I wouldn’t want you to pick out the wrong stuff. So...yeah.” Dean twiddled away from you quickly in embarrassment; however, before he could completely leave you almost wanted to admit your soon leave. A lump got caught in your throat to admit that in some way Dean was right, but he wasn’t. He’d never get that, so you waved him off and let him go.

You’d wished he’d given you a chance to make more simple memories like that, but you knew that wasn't going to happen. Dean was someone who stuck to his guns, and you would be naïve to think you would change his mind and attitudes. You couldn’t be that special as Dean has expressed vigorously.

Later on, Dean pulls up to Sam with his jacket in hand with a big smile on his face. He stares down at Sam. Instantly, Sam asks, "What?" Dean responds, ``We're going on a supply run.” , while already pushing Sam up and out of the room rushing.

"Dean!" Sam whines, stopping his arms against the door frame.

"Let's go, bub, don't have all day." Dean grins.

"Wait, I'll just go with Y/N. Let me go get them" The grin wipes Dean's face from Sam wanting your presence over him and shoves Sam out the door. 

Hearing the door slam, you rush to pack your things. You felt a bit numb and empty as you thought about your life without Sam now. Shaking your head, you remind yourself that it's for him, and that is all that matters. You rush out and begin your walk. If Sam tries to come for you, you needed a car incognito. Otherwise, all of this would’ve been for nothing. You can’t help crying on your walk not really feeling it, but your body clearly knowing what to do. 

    As Sam and Dean arrive back to the bunker, Dean sees a smile planted on Sam’s face and asks, "Why so chipper?" Sam holds up a bag in reply.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“No. I just got some snacks that Y/N likes, and I picked out some food to make dinner for the 2 of us."

"They put you up to it?"

"No. I just want to." Sam grabs one bag in hand and adds, "I'm going to give this to them now." Dean gives a shrug and simply says, “I’ll be cracking the books for a bit if you need me.” Dean smiles. 

Sam looks all over, finally stopping in your shared room; however, having not found you, he calls you while he decides to put the bag of goods into your drawer to surprise you since you weren't home. He freezes up seeing the vacant clothes. He shakes his head and closes and opens the door contemplating that he saw wrong. However, coming to the inevitable distinction, he drags the drawer all the way out and let's it hit the ground.

His hand draws out his phone and calls your number. You don't answer, which causes him to clutch the bag in hand. He calls a few more times. Finally, he knows you’ve started denying the calls. Frantically, he texts , "Please answer." A lump in his throat. You reluctantly pick up his next call. Immediately, he asks, "Where are you?" His hands fidgeted as they wiped nothing off his forehead and the sides of his face. His mind is going toward the worst but hoping you'd reassure him as always.

"Sam, umm...I need to let you go…” His face dropped like a light switching off. He takes in a breath. “Why would you say that?” 

“Look, I'm not the best thing for you-" 

"I decide that!" He strains tears threateningly.

"You deserve better-It's not me…" He sobs out, "Baby, please...just come back. We can talk about this. You can’t just-This is all out of nowhere. What did I do? I can fix it."

"It’s not on you, Sam. I know you like to play that card-Just...The last hunt showed my worth in this relationship, so I'm doing what’s best."

"What are you talking about?!"

"Sam, I couldn't get a simple spell-"

"So what? I already told you-"

"Sam, I could get you ki-I'm gonna ruin you, so I have to do this."

"Y/N-" He can hear you cry on the other line. After saying goodbye, you hang up. In response, Sam replayed the last words as they sound familiar and something clicks in him. He rushes to find Dean wiping the discarded tears. Sam found him at the table looking for information for their latest hunt. Sam rumbled out, “Dean!” 

In rage, Sam heaves the bag of package goods in his vicinity. From the force, the bags audibly pop. The action and sound made Dean jump a bit in his seat, and he tried to gain control of the situation by beginning to say, “Woah, who bit you in the a-"

Sam lifts Dean up by the shirt to the point where Dean swore he was off the ground, and Dean had never seen such a scary expression on Sam’s face.

“What did you do?!” Sam shook him enough to give him whiplash.

“Jesus-Get off-” Dean grabs onto Sam’s hands holding his shirt and tries to get him to let go, but Sam holds still.

“I am not having a conversation this way! Let go!” Sam audibly seethed almost liked he was hissing and heaved at Dean. Sam’s whole body shaking. “Great, now wha-”

“You know what this about!” Sam might as well have growled.

Dean puts some space between hearing Sam’s voice.

“Please be more sp-” Sam's fist makes contact with Dean’s jaw.

“Y/N! What did you say to them?! I know it was you. Can’t get a simple spell right would’ve been a stretch, but- But-! But, the I’m gonna ruin you?!…Oh, I’m gonna ruin you!“ Sam pounces again, and he tackles Dean down while holding his hands down.

The hand that doesn't help restrain Dean raising into a fist in a shaky manner. Tears are starting to slip out now. Sam strains as he wants to swing, but you seem to keep him from continuing. Crying, through clenched teeth he says, “They’re gone. Gone!”

“Look, Y/N didn’t fight for you, so I did you a fav-'' Sam swiftly let's go of Dean, trying to get far far away from him and smashes down on the table.

Sam doesn't take the time to think about the table or his hands and just snarls out, “Not fighting for me?! Not-'' His voice begins cracking, which makes him want to stop talking all together.

Sam points out to Dean with his lips quivering and letting out ridged and hitched breaths. At this point Sam is beyond exhausted with Dean; however, Sam points out once more to Dean all while moving back more and more as he knocked into a shelf or two on his way to the door frame, in turn knocked down some books. Sam was tired for himself, but for you? He had too defend and say, “Dean, you-you have no ide-Y/N is fighting for me! By leaving! It’s dumb and stupid that they’d think they weren’t the best thing for me, but-They think its the best thing for me because my own brother preached it was-To hear it from you! This is all your fucking fault!” Dean bites his lip and pinches his nose giving a soft grin saying, “Hey-I was just looking out for you-”

“No!” Sam pouts out and shakes his head. Scrunching his face in discontent. “No...You didn’t like that someone else could be there for me in ways you couldn't. Fucking jealous. You couldn’t let me be happy? After everything? For what? Oh, I know. To not be alone. Shocker there. You’ve done a lot of things, but this? I just-can’t-Won’t. How did you think I would feel about this?! Seriously, you're not stupid. So?! You went behind my back-You really chalked it up to selfishness on this one.” Sam dismisses Dean with a flick of the hand and storms off.

Hope your day gets better

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[samwiinchesterr]

style: writing prompt ...

“I don’t know where I am. Help me, please.”

summary: You were going to meet up with Sam and Dean when you were taken by some man with a knife, nothing supernatural. Just a kidnapper and murderer. So you escaped and you looked for your phone to call the boys.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 776

Warnings: Kidnapping, Slight Violence, and some Dean fluff. 

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You pull out your phone and dialed Dean’s number, “Please pick up, please pick up.” Straight to voicemail. “Shit,” You call again. One ring, two rings, three. “Dean pick up your fucking phone!” 

“Y/N? You okay?” Dean says picking up after 5 rings. 

“Dean, I don’t know where I am. Help me, please.” You sob into the phone. 

“Stay on the phone, I’m on my way.” He says calmly, yet you can hear all the rustling from the other side of the line. A few seconds of silence and you hear him speak again, 

“Sammy, let’s go! ... Y/N, what happened?” He says as you hear two car doors slam. One for Dean, one for Sam. 

“I was taken when I was walking to meet you guys.” You said looking behind you as you keep running. 

“I told you we should’ve met her at her hotel! ... Damnit!” You hear Dean yell and hit the steering wheel. You hear mumbling that sounds like Sam’s voice, probably trying to calm Dean down. Then you hear the gas revving on the impala. 

“Do you see any street signs?” Dean asks intensely. As you’re out of breath, and still running you hear yelling from behind you. As you stop running and turn around, down the long road you see the man that kidnapped you running towards you in sprints. 

“Oh my god, oh my god!” You yell and start running faster than before. 

“Y/N, what’s going on?!” Dean yells into his phone. You hear the engine rev again. 

“He’s chasing me!” You cry, out of breath and starting to feel tired. 

“Y/N, look for a street sign!” Dean shot back at me. 

“Um… Um…” You franticly look around for any sign at all, “Maple drive and Pennington street!” You shouted as you turned back to see the man still running towards you, closer than before. 

“Sammy look at the map! Maple and Pennington! ” You hear Dean shout, then all that you can hear is your heart pounding in your head. Then, with muffled sound, you hear Dean say “Y/N we know where you are, keep running!” 

“I can’t, Dean. I think... I’m gonna f-faint.” You say, still running, but slowing down and huffing your air out of your lungs. 

“Yes you can, Y/N, and you need to. I’m almost there, hang on!” He shouted once again. 

You slow down even more but keep moving at a fast jog. But you feel your heart beat in your throat and everything is silent, until you hear screeching tires and you turn around and see the impala pull in between you and the criminal. You see Sam jump out of the passenger seat and shoot him and Dean comes running to you.  

“Y/N!” Dean bellows, he reaches you at just the point when you fall weak into him. The last thing you hear, before your mind fades to black, is Dean’s voice mutter, “Okay, it’s okay.” 

~a few hours later~

You’re feeling groggy and you start to hear some voices. 

“We should’ve been with her. She could’ve been killed.” Dean. That was Dean’s voice. 

“There’s no way we could’ve know-” 

“We should’ve known, Sam!” Dean yells. You slowly open your eyes, and groan. 

“Can you two shut up?” As soon as you say that, you hear Sam laugh. 

Your eyes fully open and you sit up, Sam is leaning on the wall nearby, and Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed you’re in. 

“Be careful, your head got banged up pretty bad.” Dean says, reaching toward you and lightly placing his hand on the side of your head. He then feels a bit embarrassed and pulls his hand back. 

“Stop worrying, I’m fine. Thank you for coming to get me.” You said as you laid a hand on Dean’s arm. “Really, you saved my life. Again.” 

Dean let out a small laugh as his head hung, looking at the ground. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He admitted while lifted his head and looking into your eyes. 

“I suddenly... have to... um, leave.” Sam says backing to the door and chuckling, giving you a wink before sliding out of the doorway. 

“Yeah thanks, Sammy” Dean smiled as he kept his eyes on you, but shoved off his brother with a flick of his wrist. As soon as the door closes, Dean scoots closer. 

“I really am so happy you’re okay, Y/N.” He says bringing his hand back up to your cheek, knowing Sam is no longer in the room. You lean into his touch and smile lightly. 

“My hero.” You beamed and Dean smiled wide.