#sam winchester cuddles

[elliewithcellie]

Long Cool Woman - Chapter 6

chapter summary: Nowhere to go, and nowhere to hide. Will the Winchesters get to you in time?

wc: 5.1k (oops)

cw: spn canon violence, torture (semi-graphic), demon taunts reader, deaths, insecurities, ANGST, hurt/comfort w/ sam, reader takes a bath, scars mentioned, panic attack briefly described

a/n: thank you so much to those who made it this far. it has been so cathartic to rework this from 6 years ago, and i appreciate all of you who stayed for the whole journey. feedback rocks, and stay tuned for the second of the three installments. find the rest of this story here

Trapped.

You frantically searched for a way out. Tanya and James blocked the only exit. You had nothing to defend yourself with, no knife or gun. Your phone was in your bag. You couldn’t even call the Winchesters. You had nothing.

Desperation is a funny thing. It’s the last slither of hope when there should be none left. There’s always one more gear, one more chasm of motivation to dig deeper, to give everything you have. Everything primal and innate takes the lead and goes into overdrive, screaming survive, survive, survive. But in turn, all logic is lost and tossed to the wayside, ultimately to your disadvantage.

You charged for the door.

James didn’t even look at you, so bored by the interaction, it seemed. He barely flicked his hand to the left. Your body slammed into the door and fell to the ground, your head cracking against the tile. As your world faded out of view, James crouched beside you and moved the hair from your face.

“I told you I’d make it personal.”

******

You woke up in a dark room. A warm, dim light spread around the room from behind you, flickering to an uneven rhythm against the walls. Your head pounded against your skull, and your vision blurred, liquid leaking into your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was blood or sweat. The rest of your body perspired as well, dripping down your back in a near-constant stream. A mix of salt and metal infiltrated your lips. You moved your hand to wipe your face, but both were tied behind your back. You sat upright in a folding chair, each hand tied to a different post. Your feet suffered the same fate, tied to separate legs of the chair. You were so tired, your head resting heavy against your shoulder.

“She’s up, babe,” you heard Tanya say from behind you. She circled you and flashed big black eyes as she smiled. Chills shot through your body.

James followed close behind. He closed the distance between you, resting his hands on your thighs. “Good morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?”

You scoffed. You tried to lean away, but there was no escaping his grasp.

“What?” James said. “Not enjoying the view anymore?” He laughed and stood above you.

“Yeah, you’re suddenly not my type,” you said, spitting blood out of your mouth. “If you’re gonna kill me, then do it already.”

“And take away all his fun?” Tanya asked. “No, no. He wants this slow and sweet.”

Your eyes scanned hers. “So, what, are you here because you wanted to play dress up? Or do you just do what your little boyfriend tells you to?”

“It’s fiancé,” she said, her teeth grit together.

“Must be hard to watch your fiancé fixate on me right now,” you egged her on. “How often does he tell you it’s ‘for the job’ and not some fetish he gets to play out? And how often do you get to do the same?”

“Shut up!” she screamed. She pushed you, and your chair fell back, your head slamming into the cement floor.

You groaned, tears welling in your eyes. She pulled you back up by a fistful of your hair. You yelped in pain.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Tanya said, her words laced with venom.

“Easy, baby,” James said, unnervingly calm. “Don’t take my fun. She’s mine, remember?”

Tanya released her hold of you, and you released a breath. The room’s temperature rose by the minute. Your mouth was parched, begging for a drop of water, but only sweat and blood continued to accost your lips.

“Isn’t—” you breathed out “—isn’t the real fun with the pageant? Isn’t that where you wanna wreak havoc?”

James chuckled and shook his head. “She’s still not getting it. You still don’t get it, do you? You really don’t remember me? After I gave you those scars, I thought you’d never forget me. I get it’s a different get-up, but come on!”

Your vision blurred as your world caved in. Your heart dropped to the base of your stomach. “It—it’s you? So, what, none of this is real? This is all just to finish me off?”

James smiled, his eyes blinking black. “I’ve been planning this since the day you all sent me back to hell.”

“The dead Vermont girl, the position for me to fill, the serendipitous meetings with you, the date…” Your voice shook, shuddering as you put all the pieces together once and for all. “Every bit of it was staged?”

“Down to a science,” James sighed. “But what I couldn’t have even hoped for was your naivety, your utter imprudence! You walked right into my arms without a second thought! Honestly, do you actually think anyone would stoop low enough to want you? I know everything there is to know about you now, and all I’ve learned is that you’re pathetic. You think you’re tough and capable, but you’re not. You’re a liability. You’re just an unwanted weight on the Winchesters’ backs.”

His words crashed down on you, tears streaking your battered face. “Stop. That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it, though?” James asked. He circled you, closing in little by little. “You’re lying to yourself, babe. How much longer are you going to convince yourself that you're wanted? That you’re loveable when everyone in your life leaves? The pattern continues, yet you stay delusional. But deep down, you know the truth. You’ve always known, haven’t you? The Winchesters babysit you because they have to. But they are seconds away from dumping you on the side of the road as soon as they’ve used up what little you can offer. You’re so useless to those boys, they haven’t even tried to touch you, have they? Have you ever considered that? That they are so fucking disgusted by you they haven’t even tried to get in your pants? They don’t want anything to do with you. You’re nothing, and everyone can see it.”

Your breathing quickened, panic setting in. You couldn’t see straight anymore. His words cut you like a knife, and there was nothing you could do to defend yourself. It was true. All of it was true, and you could deny it for the rest of what little life you had left, but what was the point? You felt the hope you had left draining right before your eyes.

James stopped pacing and grabbed your face, ensuring there was nowhere to look but him. “You made me do this. Don’t you forget that. Whose fault is it that you fell for the first guy who looked at you? Whose fault is it that you wanted to pretend to be pretty for once in your life? I know you. So, I waited patiently – so patiently – to build you up. Because now tearing you limb from limb in the face you fell for is going to hurt you so much worse. It was a job, yes. But now, I get to enjoy it.”

James moved behind you, the sound of scraping metal causing you to flinch. He returned with a large steel rod, the edge a blazing orange. Beads of sweat rolled down your face as it neared you. You fought your restraints, leaning back from the heat. You used what little strength you had left to shift the chair back, but the chair tipped, and you began to fall back. With his free hand, James caught the seat between your thighs and pulled you back toward him.

“This is my favorite part,” he said. “There’s nothing better than watching a human’s eyes dilate with fear. And now, for my fun.”

With every burn, you screamed in agony. Each mark bubbled up within minutes, and no spot was left unscathed. He was slow, careful, as if performing a work of art. It was calligraphy to him.

Hours passed, and your screams devolved into whimpers, no longer able to muster up a cry for help. Pain overloaded your senses, dulling the sounds of footsteps and the fire crackling behind you. Your eyes could no longer focus on anything past James. He was all-consuming as he worked on your body relentlessly. You couldn’t believe that this was it, that this was how you’d finally go.

A hazy light pierced through the shaded orange of the dark room, drawing your attention. The light grew stronger and brighter, but just as quickly as it shone, it began to fade. The slam of a door took the light away. You tried to focus your blurred vision. James stood toward the sound, your gaze following his.

Sam and Dean stood at full height, their eyes narrowed and their weapons in their hands.

Tanya lunged first. She charged at Dean, but she didn’t stand a chance. Dean stabbed Tanya, and she flickered a bright orange. She sank onto his angel blade. He pushed her forward, and she collapsed to the ground.

“You killed her!” James screamed. He charged toward Dean and raised his hands in the air. Dean slammed into the wall and dropped to the ground, his blade sliding across the room.

Sam attacked James. He caught Sam’s wrists, a battle of brawn taking form. James slammed Sam against the concrete wall. James shook the blade from Sam’s hand and kept him pinned. Sam pushed back with all his might, but James didn’t let him budge. Sam peered over at you, his eyes frantic, before returning his gaze to James head-on, a rage behind his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw clenched.

James recoiled for a split second in response. Then his lips curled into a grin. “You have a fire in your eyes that your brother doesn’t.”

Sam said nothing. He continued to fight against his hold to no avail, his eyes never leaving James’.

James chuckled and shook his head slightly. “It’s for her, isn’t it? You burn for her, don’t you?”

Sam’s eyes widened only a hair. Still, the façade had broken.

“You do!” James said. “It must have hurt, then, knowing she was with me. Picturing the two of us together.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

Dean came to and stayed low. He slid out of James’ periphery toward his angel blade.

“I bet it kills you knowing I’ve had my way with her. That I’ve gotten to touch her before you could. That she wanted me and not you.”

“ENOUGH!”

Sam found one final gear and pushed James off of him. He punched James square in the jaw, knocking him down. James turned his head, smiling through bloody lips.

“Now, this is what I was warned about! There’s that Winchester ruthlessness. Let me have it! Your girl’s gonna die if you don’t.”

Sam took James by the collar and beat him down again. The smile never waned as Sam wailed punch after punch. He lifted James by the shirt one final time. He spun James around and gripped him by the shoulders, revealing Dean who stood before them. He stabbed his blade into James’ stomach. James gasped for air, his bones flashing orange and yellow before slumping to the ground.

The sudden silence deafened your ears. Sam ran to you, the clattering of weapons overwhelming your senses.

“Oh my god. What did he do to you? Dean! Help me!” Sam took a deep breath as he frantically untied your legs. Dean joined him and worked on your wrists behind you.

“It hurts, Sammy,” you whispered as your whole body trembled, full-body chills setting in.

Sam gently wiped the matted hair from your forehead. “I know, baby. I know. We’re here, now, ok? Everything’s gonna be fine. You’re being so tough for us. Just hold on. Just hold on for us. Please.”

As soon as you were free from your ties, you fell forward against Sam’s chest, no longer able to hold yourself up. He scooped you into his arms and picked you up, cradling your head. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. You rested your head on his shoulder, sinking deeper into his touch as he carried you toward the daylight.

“Dammit, stay awake for me. Come on. You can do it. Please, Y/N. Dean! Help! Please!”

You couldn’t hold on. Your head fell back against his arm, and your arm slipped from his hold as it fell limp, lifeless.

******

A surge of air awoke you as you were greeted by two fingers placed on your forehead. Castiel knelt beside you, an endearing smile forming on his face. “You should feel better now,” he said.

You were in your room in the bunker, the soft lamp light humming against the walls. You rested above your sheets, still in your gown. The dress was destroyed, tattered with holes and rips and splattered with dried blood. But your arms had no gashes, no residual burns, nothing that remotely resembled the torture you endured.

You tried to sit up, but Castiel stopped you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder. “You still need to rest. You’ll be sore for a few more days.”

“Did, did I die?” you asked.

“No,” Castiel said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I only healed you. I’m not a miracle worker.”

You released a breathy laugh, though apprehension settled under your skin. You lifted the top of your dress. Your older scars remained, and your sternum scar stayed strongly visible.

“That I couldn’t heal, since it wasn’t yours to begin with,” Castiel said.

You nodded. You exhaled an air of relief.

Your door swung open to Sam in the center of your doorway, his chest rising and falling. His lower lip trembled, and his puffy, red eyes widened at the sight of you. Castiel stepped aside as Sam approached you, taking Castiel’s place beside your bed.

“You’re ok?” Sam’s voice rose barely above a whisper as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

Your heart swelled at the sight of him. You nodded, the small smile juxtaposing the tears welling in your eyes. You held your arms out for him, and he accepted, pulling you into his chest with an urgency you’d never experienced from him before. His hold was firm but soothing, one hand across your back, the other burrowed into your hair as you nestled into his shoulder.

“I thought I lost you,” Sam said, his voice shaking.

“But you saved me. I’m here,” you said, almost more to reassure yourself.

Nothing in you wanted to let him go, and something told you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“How’re you feeling, kiddo?”

You lifted your head and found Dean sitting on the edge of your bed. You released Sam and leaned back against your headboard. “I’m still kicking.”

Dean rested a hand on your shin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, why don’t we all let you rest, hmm? You can get cleaned up or take a nap. Maybe I’ll pick up some milkshakes for all of us. I think we’ve earned it.”

You smiled up at him as he stood up. “Thanks, Dean.”

He returned a soft smile and placed his hand on your head, lightly tussling your hair. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

You took his hand in yours and squeezed it, hoping he’d receive your message where words failed you. He squeezed your hand back and released a shaky breath, as if to compose himself, before heading out of your room.

Castiel approached your bed, joining Sam.

“If you’d like,” Castiel began, “I could help you wash up. You must feel incredibly weak.”

Your eyebrows raised at his offer, your cheeks shading a light pink. You looked at Sam who only returned a small shrug.

“I think I can manage,” you breathed out, not entirely convinced of your words. “Besides, I can’t ask an angel to do that for me.”

“‘…[N]o servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.’ And I am God’s messenger. God’s servant. It is precisely my job to provide for you. If you would like.”

You thought for a moment. You weren’t sure you could do it on your own. You were so tired. You took a deep breath in and nodded.

Sam and Castiel helped you out of bed and walked you to your bathroom, your arms resting on both of their shoulders. Your steps were small and delicate as you supported your weight on each foot. The boys kept to your pace, Sam’s hand resting on your back.

Castiel removed his coat and tie then rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Sam lingered in the bathroom while Castiel tested the temperature of the bathwater. Sam leaned on the doorway, his face flush, his eyes longing. If it weren’t for the state you were about to be in, you’d have asked him to stay. His comfort radiated from him. You hoped that his energy would linger after he was gone. He promised to leave the comfiest sweats he could find on your bed before he closed the door behind him.

As the water drained from the tub, Castiel met you with a towel. The blood, sweat, and tears had all washed away, but your memories remained. James’ words taunted you, a torture that continued even after his death. Your reflection haunted you. Shame forbade you to look, sure you’d find your failures written across your face.

Castiel helped you dress in the clothes Sam had laid out for you. Both the sweats and the shirt were his; much too big for you, but you didn’t mind. Your bare feet padded down the hall as the two of you joined the Winchesters.

The brothers cracked open beers as you sipped on your milkshake. The boys reminisced of a time before either you or Castiel were in the picture. You tried to settle in, perfectly content to witness a firsthand retelling of the history of the Winchesters, but the monster in the back of your mind took center stage. Pathetic, incapable, a liability. You’re nothing. Chills ran down your spine amidst the chatter and laughter.

Sam caught your eyes, pulling you from your haze. You managed a small smile in his direction. His eyebrows pinched together briefly. He silently mouthed, “You ok?”

You nodded. You were desperate to avoid a scene and allow the boys their time without your problems interfering.

The evening dwindled to night, exhaustion evident on everyone’s faces. The fatigue hit you as well, but fear overtook you as the others packed up for the night. You dreaded the emptiness of your room. The panic swelled in your lungs as you all walked down the hall to your rooms. But you didn’t dare say anything. You refused to continue relying on them, hoping they wouldn’t be as quick to leave you if you kept under the radar.

You all said your goodnights, and you sat in your bed. You couldn’t settle in, though, afraid he would find you as soon as you closed your eyes. But with your eyes open, you swore the small shadows moved along your walls in the dim lamplight. Your heart beat faster, and your breathing accelerated. Beads of sweat lined your forehead as you scratched at the phantom burns across your arms. You held your pillow in front of you and rocked, an abysmal attempt at self-soothing. But if the boys could handle this, so could you.

A knock on your door shook your attention. You tossed your sheets to the side and headed for the door. Sam stood in the hall, concern marking his features.

“I just wanted to check in with you before heading to bed,” Sam said. “Today was a lot. And just because Cas healed you, doesn’t mean you have to be fine.”

“I am fine. Really,” you said. You lied through your teeth. You weren’t going to fold that easily. It was up to you to handle this, not Sam.

Sam’s eyes narrowed as if to study you, then released a sigh. “Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. I’m here for you, ok?”

You nodded, careful to keep your composure.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you to manage your waking nightmare on your own again.

An unfortunate routine formed over the course of the week. You didn’t sleep. You didn’t dare to see James in your nightmares. Every night, you took watch of your room, ensuring every inch was accounted for. The fear dawned on you like clockwork, ritualistic in nature. Your bedroom became a warzone, a dreaded place to be, but you had to brave the storm alone if you were to get through this.

Daytime greeted you with grogginess from the night before, and you kept your distance from the boys. It wasn’t your place to ask for help. You were a guest on borrowed time. And nothing scared you more than your time being up, so you were cautious. You gave them their space as much as it pained you, and as much as you missed them. You refused to be an extra weight for them.

But six nights without sleep would wear down even the strongest of soldiers.

Your paranoid eyes darted across your dimly lit room. You held your pillow, sure that any tighter and it would burst at the seam. Tonight, you couldn’t settle your breathing. Your breaths shortened and quickened until you were hyperventilating. Panic overtook you as tears fell down your cheeks. You couldn’t take it. You weren’t strong enough to handle this. You needed help.

You gasped at the sound of the knock on your door. Your heart pounded in your chest. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and did everything you could to hone your breathing. You’re fine, you repeated to yourself. You’re ok, you’re ok. Just breathe.

You opened the door and found Sam on the other side.

“Hi," you said. "Is everything alright?”

He didn’t respond right away. He pursed his lips, a grimace and a deep concern in his eyes residing in his features. “Can—can I come in?”

You felt the color drain from your face. “Yeah, of course.”

Your throat was closing, the air being sucked from your lungs. You were sure your time was up. You’d have to pack your bag and leave. With all the effort to keep to yourself, it wasn’t enough. You still weren’t enough.

You closed the door behind you and walked Sam to your bed. You leaned against your headboard while Sam sat opposite you. He kept to himself, as if careful to allow you your space.

“Are you doing ok?” Sam asked. “You’ve been distant since we got back, and I get if you need space maybe to process, or just space from us, but I just need to know if you’re alright.”

You released a shaky breath. “I’m ok. You don’t have to worry about me.” You sucked in your lip, hoping he would buy it.

Sam scanned you and then shook his head. “No. See, I know that’s not true. You don’t have to lie about this. Not to me.”

“What do you mean it’s not true?”

“I know your tells. You bite your lip when you’re not confident in what you’re saying. You did the same thing before your date.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. You averted your eyes from him.

“You can talk to me,” Sam continued. “If there’s anyone who gets it, it’s me.”

“I can handle it,” you said, pulling your legs to your chest. “I’m not here to be a burden.”

“Burden? There’s no burden.”

“You guys do enough by babysitting me after all this time. I don’t need to add to your load. I can work on being self-reliant, I swear.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Where is this all coming from?”

Your lip trembled. “James said—”

“James?” Sam said standing up. “The demon? Demons lie. You can’t listen to them.”

“You didn’t hear him,” you said as tears welled up in your eyes. “He was right! I’m pathetic. I got myself into this mess.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. I walked right into it. It was my fault I wanted to pretend to be pretty for once. It was my fault I fell for the first guy I looked at.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“And I’m useless to you guys!” you cried. “I’m a liability. I walk around thinking I can help, but I’m just a chore for you guys to clean up. And I’m scared that any day you’ll toss me out on my own because you’re too sick of me.”

“Stop,” Sam said.

Tears streamed down your face. “He said”—you shuddered at the memory— “He said” you stuttered, scared that speaking the rest out loud would make it true, too. “He said I was so fucking disgusting that you wouldn’t—that I was too gross to even be touched. Is there something wrong with me? He said he knew me. He said no one would stoop low enough to want me. Is that true? Am I disgusting?”

“Enough,” Sam said, his voice firm.

Sobs poured out of you. You convulsed into your hands, unable to collect your breathing. Sam sat beside you, his hands rounding your back as he pulled you to his chest. He kept his hand on your head, pressing you to his steady beating heart. You felt his breaths rise and fall at a slow, deliberate pace as he rested his head on yours. He allowed you the time to cool off before you continued.

“I wanted to—I needed to prove him wrong,” you continued, your teeth chattering as you shook. “So, I kept my distance to show him I’m not useless. To show him I can be self-reliant. To show him I don’t need babysitting. But I can’t even do that! I’m just so scared that you’ll kick me out. I want to be useful. I want to be good.”

“Listen to me,” Sam said. “None of what he said is true, ok? He took your fears and twisted them. It wasn’t your fault. It was Dean and I who signed you up, not you.”

“Sam—”

“Let me finish. He set it up. He set it all up, so of course you fell for it. We all did. You’re not stupid for not seeing it. And you’re not a chore. You’re someone who almost died. You almost died. So, if there’s any burden I can lift from you, I want to do it. If I could kill him again for what he said to you, I would. There is nothing wrong with you, ok? I—” Sam took a deep breath. “Anyone would, should, be happy to have you in their life. I mean it.”

You exhaled and nodded, keeping your head down.

“You don’t seem convinced,” Sam said.

You shivered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I haven’t slept in days. I’m sorry. I tried to handle it by myself to not be a burden on you—”

“What can I do to show you you’re wanted here?” he said. “What can I do to let you know you’re not worthless? And certainly not here just for our use! The only thing fucking disgusting was all the bullshit James said to you. You are capable. You are lovable. You are beautiful. And you are worth so much more than just what you can offer. So, what can I do to show you you’re not alone here?”

Your lip trembled before you broke out in tears. “I was so scared, Sam. It hurt so bad.”

You reached out for him, pulling him flush against you.

“I know,” he said.

“His words won’t leave me alone,” you said, “him just taunting me as he left burn after burn. I still feel him everywhere. I want him gone. I just want him gone,” you cried into his chest.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you, ok? I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t be sure how long you held him. Nothing could tear you away. And Sam let you as he continued running his hand down your hair. You shuddered in his grasp, but his warmth soothed you as you settled into the rhythm of his breathing. Soon, your eyes hung lower and lower, the threat of sleep pursuing you. You fought it off, but the weight of it loomed over you.

“I’m so tired,” you whispered against his chest, “but I’m so scared.”

Sam lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes locked with his. “I want you to use me. What can I do to help you? Please.”

His conviction startled you, but his words comforted you. “Would—would you be willing to stay?” you asked. “The night, I mean. Just so I know he’s not—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Sam said, a sympathetic smile forming on his face. “I can do that.”

You exhaled an air of relief, your body relaxing for the first time. You pulled your covers back and allowed the both of you to settle into bed. Sam rested on his back with his hands at his sides. You did the same, now thoroughly aware of the first taking place. You took a deep breath, his comfort exuding off of him like heat from the sun. It drew you nearer, pulling you like a magnet. You willed yourself closer, daring to rest your head on his chest. You felt his heart thud against you.

“Is this ok?” you asked.

Sam nodded. He pulled his arm out from his side and wrapped it around you. He twisted his body to face you and pulled you into his chest. You nestled into his touch, wishing to be impossibly closer. Sam hooked your leg with his and pulled it toward him, resting it in between his thighs. A content sigh escaped your lips.

Your head rested against his heart, staying solid and steady, keeping in time with your breathing. The rhythm soothed you, his words still playing in your mind like a lullaby. Every bit of this moment felt natural, so undeniably right. The demon’s words had dulled in your mind, Sam now saving your senses. A small smile rested on your lips. If Sam was all you needed to sleep, you’d be happy to stay here the rest of your life. Your heart skipped a beat, heat flooding your cheeks. Falling for him would have to be tomorrow’s problem, you decided, opting to fall asleep in the comfort of his arms instead.

Second Installment coming soon!!

[thefandomchaos]

Sam and Dean are both touch starved, but Sam is ‘I crave comfort’ and Dean is ‘I don’t know how to react to comfort’

[azrael08]

Dean gets hit with a love spell during a case and looks at Cas first trope except him and Cas are already together, so Cas and Sam assume nothings gonna change. And nothing really does, except that Dean now openly holds Cas's hand when their out walking around and he holds onto Cas's waist from behind when their just standing and he lets Cas scratch and play with his hair without pulling away from embarrassment and worst of all is the kissing!

Sam will be explaining what they should do next to catch the monster and when he looks up he sees Dean staring softly at Cas and Cas staring softly back which is fine, that's what they do, they stare, so Sam turns away. But when he looks back for the second time he sees Dean start peppering little smooches all over the angels face, just quick kisses on his nose and cheeks and forehead and neck too, all while they both smile dumbly, which is also fine, its not like Sam hasn't seen this before, they were exactly like this in their honeymoon phase at the beginning of their relationship, so he turns away again trying to focus but then he has a question to ask Cas and he turns and- HOLY SHIT THEY'RE MAKING OUT! RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM THEY'RE USING TONGUE AND CAS'S HANDS ARE AROUND DEAN'S WAIST AND HIS HANDS ARE IN CAS'S HAIR AND THEIR MOANING AND SAM NEEDS TO BEAT THEM OVER THE HEAD WITH A STICK-

[dumb-zombie-girl]

I want this man to cuddle me to sleep so bad right now

[dragjunkie23]

The Calm After the Storm

TW: Mentions of smut

My adrenaline was going down as I relaxed in bed. My body ached, but in the best way possible. What started as me reading in the library turned into Sam coming back from a hunt, still high on his adrenaline, pushing me against the wall and eating me out like I was his last meal. Then it became fucking me senseless on the kitchen counter to moving it to the bedroom where we proceeded to get into positions that I never thought were possible.

Now I lay here, resting on Sam’s chest as he holds me close like a teddy bear. His soft snores was the only sound filling the room, and even in his sleep he countinued to stroke my bare back, calming me down.

The sex was great, but everyone underestimates the after part of sex, because even if Sam fucks me senseless to where I cannot walk for an entire week, he always reminds me that I am loved by holding me in his arms, checking to see if I was okay and giving me words of affirmation before we finally sleep.

I looked up at him to see his sleeping face. How in the hell did I get so lucky finding a man like him? I must’ve done something right.

I took a finger and traced the outlines of his face, memorizing every beautiful detail. Suddenly, I saw him smile a little bit in his sleep before pulling me a little closer to him so his chin was resting on my head. His fingers went from tracing patterns on my back to running up and down my arm.

He knew what he was doing when he did that, and next thing I knew, my world grew dark and I fell into one of the most restful nights I had in a while.

[supernaturalseekersblog]

Small head cannons for dating Dean, Cas, and Sam.

Dean: He will stare at you lovingly, and if you catch him. He'll definitely deny it with a small smile. Whenever you two are cuddling, he definitely plays with your hair and sometimes hums quietly. He is definitely protective over you if anyone tries to flirt with you. He won't hesitate to go to you and kiss you right in front of them and call you his. When Dean can't sleep, your humming helps him and just the way you speak to him when he's upset. When he's sad, he'll be in bed all day. So you get in bed with him and talk to him gently and softly. He may not speak, but he is grateful that you're there. Dean's favorite places to kiss on you are lips, cheek, and forehead.

Sam: He is a sucker for cuddles. If he has the chance, he will cuddle with you. Whenever you fall asleep on his lap or on him, he doesn't move, or he'll move you to bed. He will hold you close to him if he sees someone walking over that might want to "talk" to you. Sam loves being the little spoon. He loves the way you hold him. When he loses someone and you try to comfort him. He'll just snap saying that you should have never met him because he's afraid of losing you too. When you're the little spoon, he'll rub your back and play with your hair. If he wakes up before you and sees you sleeping, he'll very lightly trace your bottom lip with his thumb with a smile. He loves kissing you so much. On the lips, cheek, forehead, hands, arms, nose, ears, basically anywhere. When you two get into a fight, he'll take your hand in his softly. He looks at you with sadness and says softly and quietly, "I'm sorry... I... It was not right for what I said, I love you more than anything." Then proceeds to kiss your knuckles softly.

Cas: He will watch you research stuff and read. He is still confused about some things, but thanks to you and the Winchesters, he understands a little bit of things. When you two cuddle, he is definitely the little spoon, unless you're upset. He's the big spoon. Cas will hum softly and speak softly to you. He will keep you very close to him when you two are in public. Cas is very, very cuddly. He'll hug you from behind every time, but you don't mind. He likes to kiss you on the cheeks, forehead, and your hands. He will give you small kisses on your lips too.

And there's my head canons! Let me know who I should do next and if I should make a short story.

[samanddean76]

A Leap Of Faith

After having given up all hope, Gabriel finds himself miraculously rescued from Asmodeus' vile clutches. But he is far from healthy and whole, and he can barely care for himself. Gabriel knows that he needs the help of another, but he finds the words almost too painful to speak.

Sam knows some of what Gabriel endured at the hands of a monster. And he also knows that he could never permit another to linger in darkness when there is something that he could do about it. He agrees to Gabriel's reluctant request, and then proceeds to show the archangel that anything is possible, if you only have a little faith.

I am so happy to have been paired up with @midnightsilver once again, so that we could bring you this wonderful story. Written for the @spnsabrielbang it was inspired by a gorgeous piece of art that showed Sam caring for the recently liberated Gabriel as they grow closer than they ever have been before. Please check out the mildly-NSFW art that was at the heart of the story, along with several other pieces that were created once everything fell into place. 💜🦄

Rated: Explicit | 5.8K words | Pairing: Sabriel

Story: AO3

Art: AO3

[ladylilithprime]

Day 19: Dark & Stormy Night

(Set in the werewolf!Sam universe, after Day 9 but before Day 13.)

THE ONLY MOTEL for miles around had a no pets policy, so Dean bit his tongue and smiled charmingly while checking himself in with his "boyfriend", and used a role of duct tape from the Impala's trunk to tape the curtains tightly over the windows once he and Sam were in the room. It wouldn't do anything to stop what was coming any more than the thick cloud cover would, what had them taking the room anyway just to be settled in and safe behind a locked door before moonrise, but it would keep any nosy or unsuspecting people from getting an eyeful of more than just a couple of naked men in a compromising position.

Not that Dean planned on getting naked unless it was in the shower, but Sam had already stripped off his shirts and was working on his shoes and socks now. "Dude, you can't even wait for the door to be locked?"

"You didn't do that already the moment we were inside?" Sam shot back, eyebrows raised. "Don't forget the salt tapes!"

"I'm not going to forget the salt tapes," Dean lied, taping down the final edge of the curtain and digging into his duffle bag. He had forgotten them for a moment, more worried about someone seeing than something getting in, but he wasn't about to admit that. The huffed laugh from behind him let him know that Sam didn't believe him anyway, but his brother kindly didn't call him on it. He even stopped his undressing long enough to help Dean unroll the clear cellophane tape "ropes" filled with salt and secure them along the bottom of the door jam and the bottom and top of the curtained window. Really, Sam's friend Jess had been incredibly helpful to them with this suggestion, among other things. They may have been more bulky and noticeable than a basic salt line and taken more time to remove when they needed to bug out, but they were more secure and solid than loose salt and they ended up with much less salt wasted. "How come nobody else among hunters ever thought of doing this, anyway?"

"You'd think Dad at least would've considered it, given how paranoid he was," Sam agreed. "Or even Rufus or Bobby."

"Rufus would be checking them constantly for breaks or gaps," Dean snorted. "And Bobby went and laid down permanent salt lines under the paint around every door and window in his house, so who knows if he ever thought of something like this for a temporary measure. Betcha if Dad had thought about it, he still would'a put down regular salt lines even with the ropes!"

"Yeah, that tracks," Sam snickered. His hands dropped to his belt and Dean averted his eyes back down to his duffle bag, still not a hundred percent comfortable actually watching his brother getting naked even if he was starting to get used to seeing it. Every bit of it, since Sam didn't exactly flaunt himself but he also wasn't nearly as shy and selfconscious as he'd been as a gangly teenager before he left for Stanford. Dean sometimes wondered if it had been college that had boosted Sam's confidence or being turned into a werewolf, but he hadn't worked up the courage yet to ask. Either way, his little brother definitely wasn't so little anymore, and he had nothing to be ashamed about.

"Wind's picking up outside," Sam murmured, making Dean look up again. His brother was looking at the covered window, his expression troubled. "Smells like the storm that was rolling in is picking up speed."

"Tornado?" Dean asked, tensing. On a full moon night, they couldn't risk leaving to try and outrun it or get out of the path and still be safe before moonrise.

Sam paused, closing his eyes and cocking his head to one side, listening. He sniffed, then breathed in deeply, his bare chest expanding with it and distracting Dean briefly with the play of light and shadow across his smooth pecs and abs and the dusky brown of his perked nipples. He wrenched his eyes away and tried to focus on the lurid wallpaper in the room before Sam's super sniffer caught something they couldn't just keep on ignoring for a little while longer.

"If it is gonna form up into a twister, it's not likely to go over us," Sam said at length. "Not impossible, mind, but unlikely. Not ruling out a thunderstorm, though."

"You gonna be okay with that?" Dean asked, looking at Sam again, his concern overriding the awkward. Sammy had never dealt particularly well with thunderstorms as a kid with the flashing lighting and loud rolling thunder. Dean didn't know how being transformed with his hearing dialed up to eleven was gonna go for Sam now.

From the sardonic look on Sam's face, he'd probably guessed at least half of where his big brother's thoughts had gone.

"I'm an adult now, jerk," he drawled, flopping down on the bed in a lazy sprawl, drawing Dean's eyes inexorably down the entire adult length of him. "I'll be just fine."

"We'll see, bitch," Dean retorted as he turned to stow his duffle under the warded window.

The pillow to the back of his head was expected, and probably deserved.

JUST FINE MY ass, Dean thought three hours later as another loud roll of thunder crashed about over their heads, making Sammy whine and burrow closer against Dean's side. He held the words back and just carefully stroked a hand over his brother's thick fur from the top of his head to the base of his tail, over and over, steady and slow, his other arm stretched out and curled around Sam to bracket him without restraining him.

It still amazed Dean that Sam was willing to let him close like this when he was all wolfed out, that even in the grip of the full moon his brother still knew and trusted him enough to let him close, and trusted himself enough to be close. Probably helped that Dean made a point of divesting himself of anything silver beforehand and only kept the standard gun and a salted iron knife under his pillow just in case. Because Dean absolutely trusted his brother not to lose control or hurt him, no matter what form - he'd more than proved that over the last year they'd been on the road together - and if something ever slipped and they both ended up going furry once a month, well... Dean was coming around to the idea that it might not be so bad so long as he had Sammy with him.

Assuming that Sam would even want to stick with him, once this thing with the demons was really over and his brother could go back to Stanford. That he'd even want Dean's emotionally constipated ass and ever-growing arrest record near his shiny college life and future law degree.

...That he'd want to keep Dean in his life at all.

The wet nose and furry snout jabbing him in the ribs dragged him out of his head and he grunted, looking down at Sam in annoyance. "What was that for, bitch?"

For someone with a wolf's face and limited range of expression, Sammy still managed to give him a remarkably unimpressed stare with amber-green canine eyes. With a deep huff, the wolf levered himself up a few inches, just enough to shift over and settle down again with his huge head resting on Dean's chest, his nose an inch away from the amulet just over his heart. Dean swallowed and reached up to scratch behind Sam's ears, earning a softer huff that sounded closer to a contented sigh and a wagging tail smacking gently against his leg.

"Yeah, okay," Dean murmured, burying his fingers in the thick fur as the thunder rumbled again, a little further away now. "Love you, too, Sammy."

No matter what.

[anassemblageofpassions]

A fic will be so good and then dean Winchester will show too much emotional intelligence and/or sam Winchester will actually be communicating his feelings and it will draw me right out of it.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Hiyo it's Sunday again 🥳

I would like to request Sam/Dean/Lucifer/Michael for rarepair day please ❤️

<3 wah. nice things for them.

Two days after the world doesn’t end, before Dean convinces himself to finally end up on Lisa’s doorstep, someone knocks on the door to his motel room desperately. It rattles through the ache of a seemingly infinite hangover. Dean goes to the door with a gun and doesn’t care if he’s about to scare the shit out of one of the maids.

It’s not a maid. It’s- It’s Sam, slumped over and nearly on the ground, looking like he’s been dragged most of the way, and Adam-

He looks up. Dean tightens his grip on his gun. Not Adam.

“Help me?” he says, and he sounds exhausted. “I think I’m going to drop him.” Dean darts forward just in time, and the weight of Sam is familiar but his skin is freezing. There’s a part of Dean that wants to let the devil fall right then and there, but in the end, Sam was in there, too. He still might be.

Dean hauls him up, but when Michael tries to follow, he snaps at him, “No. Fuck off.”

“He’s my brother, too,” Michael says. Dean’s… going to blame his poor decision making on the hangover rather than that he’s just as tired of fighting as Michael sounds. He gets Sam to the bed. There’s only one. He wasn’t exactly planning for company. He pulls Sam’s shoes off like he’s a kid again, and when he looks up, Michael’s crawled onto the head of the bed. He’s speaking softly, though Dean can’t parse the words. He runs his fingers through Sam’s hair again and again. Dean nearly snaps at him a second time.

“-Lucifer-” is the only word he catches. That stops him.

“What the Hell did you do down there, Sammy?” he asks his unconscious brother. Michael’s the one who hears him, but he doesn’t answer.

No, Dean knows that look to well. Michael remembers the Cage in perfect detail. He won’t answer.

All Dean can do is take a chair opposite Michael’s spot on the bed and wait for their brothers to wake up again. Michael’s voice is surprisingly soft when he’s not threatening to kill anyone or take Dean’s body for himself. Soft enough that Dean doesn’t even notice as he begins to nod off into what might be his first non-fitful sleep since the Apocalypse.

[elliewithcellie]

What a ride it has been! The last chapter is out now!

Thank you to all of you who have given this series a chance. It has meant the world to me, all feedback is welcome and appreciated and as I start Part Two (not yet named), let me know if anyone would like me to add them to the next story’s taglist!!

Thank you again for the support. Y’all have been so great💕💕

Long Cool Woman - Series Masterlist

Title based on The Hollies - Long Cool Woman (in a Black Dress)

summary: After living with the Winchesters for a year, the boys finally enlist your help. But what they ask of you is unconventional. Will you crack under the pressure, or will you rise above the rest? And just when you think it's a simple salt and burn, things are not what they seem. (eventual sam x reader)

wc: 25k+

cw: fem!reader, canon-level violence, torture, mentions of death, hurt/comfort fluff, sexual themes (18+), unrequited pining (Sam's end), sloooow burn, ANGST, survivor's guilt, body insecurities, heavy scar mentions, platonic!dean, platonic(wink)!sam, takes place season 8 to make bunker use possible and Sam 29 (small age gap?), reader is mid 20s

a/n: welcome to the first of three installments of a series that has been rattling in my head since, i swear to god, 2018. stay tuned every Friday for each update!

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

[thefandomchaos]

Dean loves seeing Sam wear his clothes because while Sam is taller than him, Dean is broader so everything is a little to big on Sam, and drops from his shoulders sometimes yet is still cropped so he can see Sam’s stomach and it drives Dean mad

[follows-the-bees]

Dean and Mary in season two and season twelve.

Dean remembers soft touches.

But that was before. Before they were replaced with harsh words and regimen. Before the cold hard steel of a gun became more commonplace in his hands. Before revenge consumed his father's life, which ultimately affected his.

Before his mom died.

But he took those memories of soft moment and he extended them to others. To the strangers along the way who were confused, torn apart with fear at the reality of monsters roaming free to terrorize. He offered them touch and kindness that might heal those shards of fractured feelings.

He extended it to Sam. Who was unceremoniously placed and held in his arms and metaphorically never put down. He offered comfort and touch in the land of tucking in foreign hotel sheets and reading battered story books. Of the best gas station food and late night math homework.

He extended it to the people who agreed to a one-night time of fun. Seeking warm closeness in each other to bade off the plaguing coldness of isolation.

In return he received the occasional moments through those soft touches. Through the gentle healing brush of an angel that sent warmth flooding through his veins, and a soft smile to his lips. In the soft smiles and blunt honesty of someone who saw him for exactly who he was and didn't shy away.

From friends collected like shreds of ripped threads of normalcy in a life full of death, destruction, a harshness you wear like a shell that keeps you and your loved ones alive.

Through a memory foam mattress that molded specifically to him. Something he could never ask of others to do, to bust offering the softness to ever ask for it.

After, he got used to the harsh touches . Enemies used it as power, a sign that they were stronger, more dominant than him. Stronger than the softness that stirs quietly in him, crying out to be heard, to be held, to be loved.

They only saw the outer beauty his genetics handed down, but not all he internalized.

Dean never forgot.

He imagined that soft touch in other realities, ones that tried to draw him in with the comfort.

But then he received that love decades later, decades spent on Earth, in Hell, and the in between of Purgatory. The touch only a mom can give. Of comfort, home, safety. Of love. Without condition.

Before became now.

[virtu4l-archieve]

the dummies guide to hand-holding for buddies || minxyone93

audio length: 59 minutes

tags: 09x06, heaven can’t wait, canon divergence, fix-it, human!cas, platonic cuddling, hurt/comfort, resolved angst, no beta we die like sams wig

summary: while still dealing with the rejection of being kicked out of the bunker, cas is faced with an unbearable ache of loneliness. dean sees right through cas and he struggles with his own guilt of leading cas down this road. dean attempts to help cas to asylum through platonic physical affection.

i loved the angst in this fic. i think a lot about how dean kicked cas out when he was human. and as a first-tike human that must have been overwhelming and soul crushing for cas. it’s literally the only time he’s human in all ten seasons he’s in. dean’s guilt felt sincere. i can’t remember if dean ever apologized or admitted to feeling bad but i wouldn’t be shocked if he said nothing. the angst was perfect which built the best lead up for the fluff. they both just wanted to comfort the other after so long of hurting.

note: i’ve know about podfics for a long time already i just always found them super inconvenient since they’re kind of hard to find and listen to. that was until my smart little brain decided to check on spotify since audibooks are a thing on there now and idk maybe someone’s smart enough to upload there. and someone is- nerdynerdenstein has created a podcast making it up as we go they’ve got over 100 podfics so honestly i owe them my life and my first born.

ps~ the tag no beta we die like sams wig is underrated and needs to become mainstream.

[lapseinart]

I watched this video and this guy being interviewed mentioned that—as a result of childhood and inter generational trauma—he was not able to tell his wife he loved her until 20 years into their marriage (might have been more)

And y’all the first thing that came into my mind was literally “omg that’s Dean @ Castiel” which is a bit incongruous but whatever

Because idk fics really do have an obsession with making him say it sometimes but I think Cas would be understanding of Dean not vocalizing it because he shows it in different ways. Like the bee print socks he buys, driving out six hours to buy fresh honey, smiling whenever he walks into the room. The love is there, even if unspoken

[according2thelore]

Here's my submission for @wincestwednesdays September Flash Event Day 3 Prompt "Radio"!

Excerpt:

"Sam’s breath starts to shudder. Dean’s fucking freezing. His insides feel shaky and trembling like a small bird is trying to tear its way out, his fingers have started to lose both colour and feeling, and he can feel his thoughts slowing to a crawl. He’d hoped he’d have longer before hypothermia started to kick in.

They’re going to die in here.

Dean turns the dial again. Opens his mouth, asks:

“Garth? Anyone copy?”

Or: After a hunt gone wrong with Sam injured and a clock running out for Dean, Dean tries to reach Garth before it's too late."

Read on AO3 here!

i had a lot of fun writing this one, and charlotte's art for this is INCREDIBLE! please give her some love when she posts! i love hitting salmondean with a baseball bat over and over again, and this is unfiltered whump. hope you enjoy!

-lizzy