#samanddean

[flamewillow]

Dead in the Water

Supernatural: Season 1, Episode 3

[wandering-winchesters]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

First Moments- Masterlist of the First Moments series.

Darkest Night- The reader loses someone close to her, Dean is close for comfort

Hunt Gone Wrong - The reader is injured while on a hunt, but doesn’t want the boys to know. Considering it should have been an easy hunt.

Not A Demon In Hell - The reader is taken by a Djinn, follows Dean as he does everything in his power to get her back. 

If this is how I go, it’s worth it - the reader is injured saving Dean. 

Please don’t shut me out  - the reader deals with depression and anxiety, Dean seeks to help her. 

Crossroads, Crossroads II, Crossroads III- (SPOILERS) Based around the time period of Season 2, when Dean makes a deal with the crossroads demon. The reader finds out that he made a deal, and what follows.

Nightmares-The reader has a nightmare and Dean is there to wake her. After, he questions what caused the nightmare. 

A Million Times More- The reader and Dean make a pit stop on the way back from a hunt, will their true feelings finally be revealed? 

Bad Feeling-The reader has a bad feeling about a hunt, the boys ignore it and she gets hurt.

Burning Up - the reader is sick and Dean takes care of her. Lots of fluff. 

The Mark Of Cain - Dean has the mark of cain, and Y/N is normally the one who can calm him. However, this time things go too far. 

Down Range- The reader is new to hunting and Dean takes her to learn how to shoot.

Premonitions- The reader has always had visions, but now they’re changing and causing her physical harm.

Not Yourself- The reader has been feeling off, ever since a nasty encounter with a demon.

Who Did This To You? -Sam and the reader are close friends, Dean on the other hand is kept at a distance. The reader has a boyfriend, who turns out to be abusive. What will happen when Dean finds out?

Tragedy -The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured.

Hopeless - The reader can feel her depression creeping back in and eventually seeks comfort from Dean, who greets her with open arms.

When the Storm Clouds Rolls in- On a particularly hard day, the reader relies on Dean for comfort.

Haunted- the reader gets ghost sickness

Do It- The reader is taken captive and has given up hope of being rescued or escaping. Yet when Dean does appear, his life is the one at stake.

Don't Push Your Luck- After a bad argument with Dean, over the reader putting herself in danger, another hunt goes wrong. Will there be time to reveal the feelings that lie beneath the anger?

Grief- The reader loses her grandfather and eventually seeks comfort from Dean.

Take Me Back- Based on the song, The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Letters- Love Letter from Dean

A Calm in the Storm- When the world feels like it’s closing in, Dean is there to pull you back from the edge.

Steady Hands- When the weight of the world becomes too much, Dean is there to hold you together.

Breaking the Walls- Dean struggles with his growing feelings for you, battling the fear of letting you in while also being terrified of losing you.

The Weight of Darkness- In the midst of depression's grip, Dean's presence offers a glimmer of hope and the promise that you don't have to face it alone.

Under the Stars- you share a quiet, intimate moment in the woods, where a simple hand-holding leads to a deeper connection under the starry night sky.

A Moment too Late - A hunt goes wrong, leaving you seriously injured and Dean grappling with guilt. But through it all, the bond you share only grows stronger as you both fight through the pain and recovery together.

Comfort in the Dark- Dean Winchester seeks solace in your embrace during a vulnerable night.

Reunited - After days of fear and separation, you reunite with Dean.

When the Line is Crossed-What was supposed to be a simple night at the bar turns dangerous, but Dean steps in to protect you when it matters most.

A Cold Night's Warmth -On a freezing night after a hunt gone wrong, Dean Winchester quietly offers comfort

After the Battle - After a grueling hunt, you and Dean share a rare moment of closeness.

No Room for Blame- After a hunt leaves you injured saving Sam, a tense and emotional ride back to the motel forces Dean to confront his fear, anger, and the unbreakable bond between the three of you.

Unspoken Feelings - What started as simple, comforting snuggles between friends gradually deepens into something more

A Desperate Moment I, A Desperate Moment II -After a life-threatening hunt, Dean, overwhelmed by fear and desperation.

Sleepless Confessions- In the stillness of the bunker’s kitchen, a sleepless night turns into a tense, unspoken confession between you and Dean.

Wreckage- The things you see as Dean is taken by the hell hounds.

[propertyofyoutube]

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT

I thought it was about time I made things a little easier for you all🥺

If you’re new to my blog, hi! Welcome to the safest place on the internet for you to relax and explore your deepest darkest desires😏

Disclaimer: please don’t steal my work, because I have a very particular set of skills and I’m not afraid to use them☺️

Current total works: 18

~🖤~

Colby Brock

I thought we were ghost hunting? - EXPLICIT

Couldn’t resist a bad boy - EXPLICIT

I want to tell the world - EXPLICIT

You’re this close to cracking - EXPLICIT

You really think I’d ever let anyone say anything bad about you? - EXPLICIT

Cooking and dancing - FLUFF

Sam Golbach

More than friends - EXPLICIT

You’re being bailed out by Sam - EXPLICIT

Fuck, I’ve missed you so much - EXPLICIT

Kidnapping Prank - EXPLICIT

Anything for you Mrs Golbach - EXPLICIT

Are you happy now? - EXPLICIT

A time of the month accident - FLUFF

Sam & Colby

Tap once for no, twice for yes - EXPLICIT

You could choose both - FLUFF

Let it go, baby - EXPLICIT

It’s Never The End - A Dean Winchester x Reader Story

Chapter 1: Hi, I’m Dean - FLUFF

Wattpad Novels

Our Time Is Now || Sam, Colby and friends Fanfiction

The Winchesters || Sam, Dean and Castiel Fanfiction

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN!

~🖤~

[hatchet-boy]

Sam line that I don't think about but really should:

"It's when a dog doesn't eat, that's when you know something is really wrong."

[thebookishbroadwaybisexual]

Rewatching Supernatural for the millionth time:

Just got to Season 2 Ep. 1 and I feel like this episode is where we see the beginning of Dean’s suicidality; he’s with Tessa, ready to give up everything bc he realizes there is an end to the story and he can choose it. But then bc of John’s deal (it’s always John’s fault) the choice is ripped right from his arms. And he seemingly spends the rest of the series trying to get back to the moment of peace when he chose his fate and couldn’t get the ending he felt he deserved. You can see it in the lines hes always spouting about how he’s destined for an early grave and “the game” is going to take him out. In the end he was right, an early grave while hunting is exactly what he got.

Anyway sorry for depressing y’all. 🫤 That is all, continue on with your scrolling now.

[wowsosad]

Forget about Sam and Dean sharing a queen bed in motels, imagine little Sam and Dean sharing a twin bed. Two heads on the same pillow, wrapped up tightly in their blanket, Dean cradling Sam close to make sure he doesn’t slip off the edge. 8 year old Dean and 4 year old Sammy, just barely too big to share. Sammy gets night-terrors, soaks the bed with his tears and sweat, and Dean cools him down, presses kisses to his damp forehead, then changes their clothes quickly and quietly. Dean lays an itchy motel towel down on the bed, sneaks back in to avoid waking Daddy up, and the two boys sleep, tangled together like a yarn ball on their teeny-weeny twin-sized bed. <3

[waxingwinchester]

the morning after

a/n - kinda wincest?? platonic for this fic but they have a protective bond. wrote this on a whim because there's no spn vore!!

warnings - VORE! well, it's not explicit but dean does vore someone the night prior and sam takes care of him in the morning. belly kink, belly rubs, burping, etc. mentions of sex and bones breaking during the digestion part

w.c. - 1.9k

-

Dean ambled into the kitchen with a limp in his step. For all the post-coital mornings he spent gulping down his one-night stand—ensuring that it would stay one night, no matter how hot the dude or chick he was banging looked to be—his body never got used to the imbalance of weight placed inappropriately on him. He wished that when he ate someone, it was like in a cartoon where they wore you like a suit, because trying to fight a hangover with a sore body inside your sore body resulted in the type of walk that made him look half-necrotic. The living dead had risen in the morning and looked even worse in the daylight.

His figure passed through the door frame and looked more like he was blocking the exit rather than peacefully entering until he soldiered on. The way his body sluggishly and sharply moved to drag his body and the weight of his round ball-gut with him was like a sight unseen, even by two brothers who had seen endless horrors. Dean looked for the nearest surface to rest the new weight hanging off of him on, anything to give him a rest from feeling his stomach bubble. He was already down to just his boxers and the robe that he had taken up the duty of wearing to honor the last guys that lived there—and totally not because he was able to let it hang around his newly bloated form in a way that his flannel and jeans couldn’t fit over. And he had tried a lot of ways to make them fit until the buttons on both popped and he learned that he better save the rest of his clothes from the thread-pulling nature of his width. 

So, a robe and boxers it was. His belly hung low enough and had finally digested enough of his prey to swing with each step like the ends of his robe, and the sloshing from the remnants of the man inside his belly drew Sam’s attention.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Sam beamed at a drained Dean, who was still regaining the color in his face. He stood behind the chrome counter with a lineup of a vegetable’s—and Dean’s—worst nightmare: a few knives of different sizes resting on the right end of the counter with their blades fogged up from mincing rabbit food, a cutting board, a juicer with the shallow heads of a few grapefruits, a recently emptied blender still dripping from whatever Sam had thrown in it, and the bloody concoction of their puke-green insides filling two tall glasses at the other end. The last thing Dean needed to think about was puke. With so many drinks and a big meal to eat last night, he nearly threw up a half-digested meal, and that would have made this site ten times worse to look at. At least Sam had used the blender while he was still passed out, or else Dean might have been marching in here to stop the headache-inducing whirring of a blade and not the vomit-inducing look of vegetables made into a healthy hangover cure.

“Please tell me those crap-shakes are both for you.” Dean took a seat on one of the stools at the wooden table, his body loathing him for diverting off the straight path he was taking to reach the counter, but he needed to give his legs a break already. He looked down to the dark grain underneath the polished surface of the table and felt like he was drunk again while trying to make sense of the flow of it. The pattern he traced over with his eyes was broken by Sam setting one of the two glasses down in front of him. 

“You need it, Dean. I can already tell you didn’t eat well last night… or drink well.” Sam took a seat across from him at the table. He had put a straw in both drinks and held on to the end of his with his index and middle finger, swirling the drink around before aiming it towards his mouth so he could lower his head and take a sip. 

“I don’t get why you punish yourself, Sammy. You stayed up all night studying, and that is how you reward yourself?” Dean took the straw out of his drink and set it to the side, letting the bit of the drink that clung to it splatter on the table. Sam just rolled his eyes at his brother’s carelessness before piping up to defend himself.

“I treat myself, Dean. I just like to make sure whoever I eat has a good experience. It’s probably like a thousand tiny chainsaws in there for whoever that is.”

“It’s food, Sammy. As long as it doesn’t hurt me, then it’s as sweet as freakin’ pie.” Dean sighed and lifted the glass up to his lips. His lips curled around the edges, and he tilted the glass so the green juice edged off the glass and into his mouth. He tried to drink it fast to get the taste down but stopped after a few loud gulps, pulling the glass away and setting it down on the table in front of him. A green juice-mustache stained his upper lip. “Oh, but this. This pains me, Sammy. This isn’t even edible!”

“Just drink it, Dean.” Sam took his time with his and sipped it, and, to Dean’s disgust, held it in his mouth to enjoy the flavor. 

Dean took another sip and set it down, retracting his upper lip in disgust and turning his head away. He wasn’t exactly hungry, so he couldn’t even trick himself into eating it out of pure necessity—last night’s hookup was still more than leaving an impact on him. “You know, I miss the days when Dad just gave us the good ol’ ‘get up and get in the damn car’ talk instead of this. Nothing got me over a hangover more than gas station coffee and some music.”

Standing, Dean latched onto the table for support. He had forgotten about his distended stomach, still working over the curled-up person inside, who had managed to last at least five hours in his stomach while still remaining whole. The downsides of having a late night are that your mistakes feel deceivingly far away when in reality it was just a couple of hours ago that Dean had fucked and feasted on a sweaty babe he picked up from some bar a few miles out. He couldn’t tell if the person had succumbed to the stomach acid or was exhausted from having sex and then being forcefully dragged down his throat when he felt hungry, not even five minutes after cuddling up with them.

“You’re going out?” Sam asked, his eyebrows falling closer to his eyes in confusion and mostly concern. 

Dean stood for a moment, then fell back down onto the stool with a few heavy pants. “Yeah—dammit—I am.”

“Dean, you can barely stand. It must have taken all your energy just to walk in here. Just chill out and drink up.” Sam reached across the table to slide Dean’s glass closer to him.

“Your crap-shake? No way, Sam. You know that I don’t even like lettuce and tomato on my burgers.” Dean nearly gagged at the idea of finishing the whole thing. He hoped that, if he at least tried to drink it, that Sam would forgive him for leaving some—if not, most—of it still in the cup.

But Sam wasn’t going to budge. “Dean.”

“Sam.” And Dean couldn’t move out of his seat, so he was left to stay stern with his baby brother.

Sam stood up and moved around the table faster than Dean could have done if he had had enough time to mentally and physically prepare himself. “You need to drink it, Dean.”

He picked up Dean’s glass and held it in one hand. His other found its way to the underside of Dean’s chin, where he cradled it. “Are you going to open up for me?”

Without any words shared between them, Dean opened his mouth, and Sam held the glass to his lips. He watched Dean lean his head back, his throat going wide and his jaw going slack as Sam tipped the glass down and let it all rush into Dean’s mouth. The juice’s bitter taste returned to Dean’s tongue quickly, but as he gulped down the stream of blended kale, celery, chard, and mint, he started to think that it wasn’t that bad of a flavor. But just as he started to get used to the taste, he had finished off the glass, and the very last few drops slid down and into his open mouth. Sam pulled away by then as Dean’s eyes locked onto the last few bits of gross, flavor-packed health slop, setting the glass down with a clink against the table.

“There, all gone,” Sam said.

A few beats passed before Dean winced, rubbing his stomach. “What all was in that junk?”

Sam bent down to be level with his brother’s round, beach-ball-sized stomach, fitting his two hands around where Dean had placed his. Though that didn’t stop him from easily answering the question, “Kale, celery, mint, some probiotics for gut health.”

“What kind of probiotics, Sam?” Dean asked, a nervous pit forming in his gut—or was that the probiotics? Or was it the person in his stomach finally stirring from all the disruption? He hoped they had been digested beyond consciousness by that point so they wouldn’t have to wake up to the smell and sound of Sam’s gut-health-juice raining down on them.

“Just the regular ones, Dean!” It clicked for how poorly Dean must have been eating these past few weeks to end up feeling like this. Maybe he was more than hungover—this was a cry for his body to get anything other than meat and fats in its system.

Dean didn’t have a smart thing to say because he was too busy working up a burp that echoed through the kitchen. He didn’t make much of any noise or any cries or pleas—he still had to keep up that stoic older brother charade so Sam couldn’t hold this over him later—but Sam knew Dean well enough to know when he needed a belly rub. 

Sam moved the robe out of the way and pushed it to fall at Dean’s sides as he was sitting, like parting the curtains to let the scenery in. His brother’s midsection had never looked so good, like a slightly hairy yet blank canvas for him to mold over with his hands. The smooth, round gut pooled in Dean’s lap and was easy to roam around. 

Sam worked his hands over Dean’s stomach, some areas of it being soft and almost plushy, being able to sink up to his wrist into his brother’s bloated stomach. But other areas were still hard and pointy like he was pressing into the knee or elbow or even skull of the prey inside, and if he pushed really hard, he could hear a bone or two crack under the pressure. It elicited more burps from Dean and helped his grumbling stomach process the meat and greens broiling inside to create something that probably looked worse than Sam’s crap-shakes.

So, Sam kept Dean on that kitchen stool until he finished helping mash up the remaining bits of his huge meal and for his stomach to process the good things Dean should have been eating all along.

Dean hated how caring Sam could be.

[sam-dimples]

drawing the boys (kinda from memory) to get out of art block

hope that you'll enjoy them <3

[marginofthought]

Scenes that me me wanna scream a little:

The little nod after the "Dean?" ??

Also, this is definitely something that he has said multiple times and now all I can think about it little sammy saying that to kids in school

[flamewillowspn]

[prettyinpinkmann]

‧ ︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵ ‧ ˚ ₊

꒰ a b o u t m e ! ♡ ���

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

₊˚ ‧ ⊹ em ⊹ ‧ ˚ ₊

she/her, 23, minors dni !!

current fandoms: bcs, brba, spn, the boys, american horror story, supernatural

this blog is honestly gonna consist of me being silly w my special interests and a bunch of reblogs of them :p

[flamewillow]

[wandering-winchesters]

Unspoken Feelings

Summary: What started as simple, comforting snuggles between friends gradually deepens into something more

It started as something simple, something innocent. Just a couple of friends seeking comfort in each other after a particularly rough hunt. You and Dean had always been close—there was an unspoken bond between you, forged through countless battles, late-night heart-to-hearts, and a mutual understanding of the life you both led.

The first time it happened, you didn’t think much of it. You were both sitting on the couch in the bunker’s library, exhausted and battered from the latest hunt. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind the aches and bruises, both physical and emotional. You’d been talking about nothing in particular, just letting the words fill the space, when you suddenly found yourself leaning against Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.

To your surprise, Dean didn’t pull away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you a little closer, his hand resting comfortably on your arm. It was a simple, platonic gesture, one that felt natural, even necessary in that moment. The comfort of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing, it all made you feel safe, grounded.

“Rough night,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You can say that again.”

You didn’t say anything else, and neither did he. The silence between you was comfortable, familiar. You stayed like that for a while, just leaning on each other, taking solace in the fact that, for the moment, you were both okay. It was just a quiet, comforting moment shared between two friends who had seen more than their fair share of darkness.

After that night, it became a sort of unspoken tradition. Whenever the world felt too heavy, whenever the hunts took too much out of you, you’d find yourself sitting next to Dean, letting your head rest on his shoulder, his arm draped casually around you. Sometimes you’d talk, sometimes you’d just sit in silence, but the snuggles became a constant—a small, quiet escape from the chaos of your lives.

Over time, those moments became more frequent. It wasn’t just after hunts anymore. Sometimes, you’d be watching a movie, and you’d find yourself leaning into him, or you’d be sitting at the kitchen table, and he’d rest his hand on your back, just a simple touch that made you feel connected, understood.

You didn’t think much of it at first. It was just Dean—Dean who always had your back, who always knew what you needed, even before you did. But as the weeks went by, you started to notice the little things. The way your heart would skip a beat when his hand brushed against yours, the way your breath would hitch when he pulled you closer during one of your late-night snuggles, the way you found yourself craving his touch more and more.

It was confusing, this shift in your feelings, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on it. After all, it was just Dean. Your friend, your hunting partner, the one person you could always count on. And yet, something had changed. The snuggles that had once been purely platonic were beginning to feel like something more, something deeper.

You started to notice that Dean was different too. He held you a little tighter, his hand lingering on your arm or your back a little longer than before. His touches were softer, more deliberate, like he was savoring the contact. There were moments when you’d catch him looking at you, his green eyes filled with something that made your heart race, but he’d always look away before you could figure out what it was.

One night, after a particularly stressful day, you found yourself in Dean’s room. You hadn’t planned on going there, but when you passed by his door and saw the light on, your feet had carried you inside before you could think twice about it.

Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped, clearly exhausted. He looked up when you walked in, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

You shook your head, feeling a wave of warmth and affection for him wash over you. “No. Mind won’t shut off.”

Dean patted the space beside him, and you didn’t hesitate to sit down next to him, the familiar comfort of his presence already easing some of the tension in your chest.

Without a word, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, and you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. The quiet settled over you both, and for a while, you just sat there, letting the silence do the talking.

But tonight, something felt different. The way Dean’s hand was resting on your back, the way his thumb was gently tracing patterns on your skin—it felt more intimate, more intentional than it had before. Your heart started to race, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling it too, if he’d noticed the shift between you.

“Dean,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice just as soft, almost hesitant.

You hesitated, unsure of how to put what you were feeling into words. “Do you ever… do you ever think about us? About what this is?”

Dean was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his breath hitch slightly, like he was trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “Yeah, I do. More than I probably should.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His expression was serious, his green eyes searching yours like he was looking for something, anything, to tell him what you were thinking.

“What if…” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “What if this is something more? What if it’s not just… comfort?”

Dean’s gaze softened, and he reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I think… I think maybe it’s always been something more,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I just didn’t want to mess things up by saying it out loud.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through you at his words. All the little moments, the touches, the way he held you close—it all made sense now.

“So, what do we do now?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Dean’s thumb continued to stroke your cheek, his touch so tender it made your heart ache. “We figure it out,” he said softly. “Together. One step at a time. If… if that’s what you want.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch, your eyes never leaving his. “It is, Dean. It really is.”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m all in, Y/N. I want this, with you.”

And with that, the distance between you disappeared. Dean’s lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that was filled with all the emotions you’d both been holding back for so long. It was soft, tentative, but it spoke of promises and possibilities, of something real and deep and lasting.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads still resting together, the world outside fading away.

“So, I guess our snuggles aren’t so platonic anymore,” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

Dean chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your lips. “No, I guess not. But I’m okay with that.”

“Me too,” you whispered, your heart full as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close once more.

And as you settled back into his embrace, the line between friendship and something more blurred completely, leaving behind only the warmth of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and the certainty that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

Taglist: @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

[propertyofyoutube]

Okay… so before my absence, I started writing the Dean Winchester x reader book… and I am happy to say I have finished the first full chapter. Who wants it releasing tonight?🥹🖤

[hatchet-boy]

Discuss

[thecatsaysmew]

i've been writing a supernatural fic for almost 2 years now, with an original plotline, some OCs, and lots of angst and action. it's my literal baby. today i was proofreading some chapters.

i present to you an excerpt that i think sums up sam and dean (context: dean's making bullets as a solution to something; anna is the main OC):

Dean looked up while lining up the shell casings. “Reed? He’s dead.”

“We could try to summon him. Have him talk to her.”

“Anna gave him a hunter’s funeral. Salted and burned his bones. He ain’t walking among us.”

“He could latch on to something in his house, and make an appearance,” Sam said, “There’s a lot of things in that penthouse. Something sentimental, maybe.”

Dean thought back to the vinyl he had found that one time he was hanging out with Anna in Manhattan. “Maybe. Wouldn’t put all our eggs in one basket, though.”

“A shot is a shot,” Sam said, tapping the table and getting up. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Dean resumed his work as his brother left, mulling over how a shot for Sam meant hope, and for him, it was a literal bullet.