#snowyveganwincest

[sidekick-hero]

Moonlight Serenade

Light dances over the marble of your pale skin, the moonlit surface of a pretty fairytale. Odes have been sung to your beauty - too many and not nearly enough for there is so much more to love.

I heard that the sun envies your grace, while the moon whispers about your darkest desires. I hate that they think you’re theirs to talk about and I wonder when they will ever learn

That I have seen your soul, as it is the other half of mine. That I’m the darkest desire of them all - the fire in your veins and your salvation.

That I’m the one who loves the man behind the god.

I want to shout it at the sky, the cold light of stars my witness. I’m the one who knows the taste of your skin and the scent of your lust. I get to drink you in and drink you down, while your heart beats in my chest and my lungs fill you with life.

The roaring noise of a world ending will not change that I can pick out the sound of your lashes when they kiss my face but could never name the color of your eyes.

I’ve counted the freckles on your body and named every single one

Mine

There is nothing I don’t know about you and yet I want to spend the rest of my days with you. I want to learn you again and again and again - get drunk on your taste just so that I can forget the way my name sounds on your lips.

Will you show me again?

[happilysammy]

Dean used to read them to Sam before bed.  And before Sam could read, he’d read stories back to Dean and make up the stories.  Dean always went along with it, always smiled when Sam’d close the book dramatically and say ‘The End!’.  

They were Sam’s first loyal companions.  Stories of far off places, with love and tragedy, new worlds and happy endings.  Places he could lose himself to, places that felt more like home than what truly surrounded him.  

He started collecting them, started keeping them in his backpack.  Tried stuffing it as full as it would get with all the books he’d find along the way. And he’d tell himself it was because he wanted to read them later, but more often than not, he’d just find himself appreciating the weight of them. 

And it wasn’t until he was in Stanford, that he would use his textbooks for other things than just studying.  Other things like, stacking the books on his chest–one by one, before he went to sleep.  The books were heavy and they pushed him securely against the bed.  They made him breathe deeper and they made the anxiety in his bones, dissolve.  

By the end of his first semester, he was sleeping with at least five of his textbooks on his chest.  

After he meets Jess, her body weight replaces the books and he learns to sleep without them again.  Starts using them for pleasure, lets her read to him in the morning, when they’re both still lazy and not wanting to get up. And there were nights that they’d stay up all night, talking about their favorites and reading passages from the pages to each other.  

But after the fire, he finds her favorite books and starts to sleep with them again.  All of them stacked neatly on his chest, as he waits for the pressure of them to alleviate the grief in his bones.  Some nights, he needs more than others.  Some nights he craves the tightness of his ribs, craves the weight of something else–besides the world on his shoulders.  

And it continues like this, throughout all of his life.  Dean asks him about it once, after he gets his soul back.  Asks him what about it makes him feel better and all Sam can do is whisper, “They make me feel safe.”  

Dean never pretends to fully understand what it means, but supports Sam’s need for them.  And even after everything with Gadreel–when Sam can barely look at Dean, his heart softens when he finds a stack of books outside of his door–all from the Bunker’s Library. 

There’s a note on top of them and it reads, “To keep you safe." 

♥

Anoooooooooooooon. You’re making me cry. D:

To keep you safe.

ALL MY FEELINGS. I CANNOT. <3 Thank you, Anon. <3

[beekeepercain]

Sam is GAYYYYYYYYY

U R WRONG

[buticancarryyou]

I was tagged by: The wonderfully talented @semirahrose!  Thanks for thinking of me, love!  I think I’ve done this one before, but I couldn’t find it in my tag, so maybe I am hallucinating? Anyways, here we go--

Birthday: December 24th (in 12 days, EEK!)

Height: 5′3″, I’m a shorty....

Time right now: 9:53AM

Last thing I googled: how many stamps are needed for international mailing of christmas cards. :P

Favorite Fictional Character: Sam Winchester.  He’s in my bones; I don’t think there will ever be a day that I don’t think of him in some capacity.  

Favorite Famous Person: Idk, but Jimmy Fallon is up there.  

Favorite Book: A poetry book, full of Plaths work.  It was given to me by my brother and it’s a favorite possession--just because of that.  

Favorite Band/Musician: Right now, I am super obsessed with Missio. 

Song stuck in my head right now: I Run To You by Missio. 

Last movie I saw: I just watched The Scorch Trials.  It was alright. ;)

Last TV show I watched: I watched The Affair. 

Dream Job:  I’m gonna copy what Semirah said, and put ‘writer’--though, for me--I would love to be a poet with published works.  I probably couldn’t make a full fledged living off of that, but boy would it be satisfying.  Who knows, could happen one day. :)

I am tagging: @codependentsamanddean, @buttheyrebrothers, @snowyveganwincest, @candycanedean, & @jinglyjared

[saintedsam]

For @snowyveganwincest

Teen!Sam wearing a poodle skirt with bonus greaser!Dean. 

Just a very quick, silly watercolor doodle because poodle skirt!Sam was too freakin’ cute.

[jarpadsnackles-blog]

When the Levee Breaks by SammysGirl666

“After Sam’s first hunt goes horribly wrong, Bobby takes him and Dean to his old vacation home in California, by the beach. Three uninterrupted months of beach time would be a dream to any kid. But Sam can’t stop having nightmares and can’t stop reliving the painful memories over and over again. Too add to that, he has to deal with the sick feelings he’s cultivated for Dean, his brother. And on top of all this, he has one life-changing decision to make that will shake the very foundations of everything he’s ever known.Thus ensues three months that change Sam’s world as he knows it. 

After this, things will never be the same again.”

My review, paraphrased to avoid spoilers! :) 

“I'm not even sure how to put into words exact specifics about what I loved about this fic. There's kinda just too many things. I mean, slow build is my jam, and the way it built and built and then [...] And it was emotional, and it was sexy, and it was heart-breaking. There was this pain building in my chest the entire second half, as I watched the chapters pass by and the scroll bar get closer to the end. And it didn't burst into some faked out happy ending. The ending was real and raw, [...] Now that I've managed to wipe the tears out of my eyes, I can look back at the whole piece and just bask in the sunset glow of it. [...] It was the perfect balance of every ingredient that someone looks for in a fic, and the end result is just this deliciously painful thing that anyone can come back to again and again and again. Absolutely beautiful. [...] I wish there was more, and more, and more. But at the same time, I just love what is here so much, and it's so perfect in its completion, that I am totally happy that it's over and I got to experience it. Ya know?” 

alright alright just gimme the link!

[acklelantern]

Hey I followed Rory. You don't have to do a blog rate because my mobile theme is pretty....festive atm XD I just wanted to let you know and I reblogged the post to spread the word :) you're wonderful for doing this, btw!

icon: nice| awesome | bitch | jerk | 67Impala | DeanURL: nice| awesome | bitch | jerk | 67Impala | Sammobile theme: nice | awesome | bitch | jerk | 67Impala | Jensenposts: nice | awesome | bitch | jerk | 67Impala | Jaredoverall: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

following?: no, sorry! | now i am | YAAASS BOO YAAASS |FOREVER

comment: I think your festive theme is cute! I also love all the Sam you post. Sam is literally the most adorable little cinnamon roll. Also wincest is perfect. And I really like how you just add a festive word before your non holiday URL. It makes it a lot easier for people to know who you are. 

Want a rate? Do this. Black List ‘blog rates’

[beekeepercain]

unpopular opinion: Sam is straight in canon. He's only even been with women in canon, and he's never explicitly said anything about being attracted to men or explicitly showed any attraction towards them.

FUCK THIS SCALE YOU ARE MY KIN strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

@babyelfdean @bigelfsam @snowyveganwincest: SUCK IT I FOUND MY PEOPLE

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW OPPRESSED I AM WITH THESE PEOPLE AROUND ME ANON YOU HAVE NO IDEA AT ALL THIS IS THE MOST UNPOPULAR OPINION

But yes, basically, I’ve never viewed Sam as anything but straight. Where other people see his… openness about his identity as proof that he’s queer, I see it as him simply being confident and comfortable being who he is, in direct contrast to Dean, for whom his sexuality and general manliness has always been an issue. I feel that he’s comfortable even joking about his sexuality (”How about Sastiel? Samstiel?”) because there’s nothing there that could possibly make him uncomfortable: Sam’s sexuality is not a problem for him, and if it was different than straight, it wouldn’t bother him, it wouldn’t become an issue, and it would change absolutely nothing. If he woke up tomorrow and found that he was in love with a man, it wouldn’t confuse and scare him. Surprise, maybe, but not in a bad way - no more than waking up and finding he’s in love with a woman would, if it came unexpectedly. 

I just don’t think that that has ever happened, and see zero proof to the contrary. Sam doesn’t even tickle my gaydar. He just seems and feels straight to me, whatever the hell that means.

Send me unpopular opinions? It’s time to earn some anon hate again.

[buticancarryyou]

So, I was recently tagged by the wonderful @buttheyrebrothers to list my top 10 favorite shows....so here we go.

Supernatural

Queer As Folk

The 100

Six Feet Under

Sense8

Arrow

Dexter

Limitless (it’s new, but i love it so far)

Felicity

Pretty Little Liars (shh don’t judge me)

Tagging: @codependentsamanddean, @whoaeasytiger, @marrieddorks, & @snowyveganwincest

[jarpadsnackles-blog]

I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your blog. I don't know if I was following you before but I am now and I hope you get every one of your followers back and then some :) you run a lovely blog and deserve nothing but kindness rn

Thank you so much. I really appreciate you following and sending this nice message.

[sidekick-hero]

5 times Sam wears the Samulet and one time Dean finds out

Wincest/Mature/angst/Samulet fix-it/4650words

Read on AO3

1 More special than you think or how Sam had gotten the Samulet

“What is this, Uncle Bobby?” little Sam asks, voice high-pitched and childish. It is a stark contrast to the way the little boy tries to pronounce each word carefully, his way of speaking all polite and sophisticated. It is a bit like talking to a professor in a very tiny body sometimes. It is also the most adorable thing Bobby has ever seen, not that he would ever tell that to anyone.

The man bends down so he is eye-to-eye with Sam, mindful of his back which gives him more and more trouble each year (not that he’d complain about being still alive and aging).

“This is an amulet. It’s very special, Sam,” he explains in a serious voice, matching Sam’s tone. He never likes it when people talk to kids like they’re dense or slow. Bobby knows some grown-ups that are way below Sam on the maturity scale.

Sam’s forehead crinkles in contemplation. “It doesn’t look all that special to me.” The thing in Uncle Bobby’s hand is fairly ugly, if you ask Sam. It is an amulet in the form of an oval looking head, completely with horns and strange looking adornments. Still, as soon as the words leave his mouth Sam feels bad. His Dad doesn’t like it that Sam contradicts him a lot and talks back all the time.

Instead of being angry his Uncle Bobby simply laughs. “You’re right, kiddo, it doesn’t. It’s not supposed to or everyone would want to have it. But it’s more special than you think. Do you want to know why, Sam?” Bobby asks with a gentle smile, the one he only ever reserves for Sam and Dean. He may have never wanted kids but that hasn’t stopped him from considering those two his boys.

Sam’s eyes grow even wider, wonder and trust shining in them as he nods silently. Bobby is hit with a wave of regret when he considers the small, innocent boy in front of him. Not much longer before he learns what’s really out there, before the naïve trust will give way to the guarded expression his older brother has started to wear around anyone but Sam. What would he give to protect Sam from it; to shelter them both from the things that go bump in the night.

“This amulet is made to protect whoever wears it. It keeps them safe. I’d say that is darn special, don’t ya?”

At those words Sam’s whole face starts to glow in happiness. This is the perfect present for his Dad. Ever since that day when Sam had found and read the leather journal his father keeps carrying around with him he is so very scared for his family. The things described in there are so scary and it all sounds so real that Sam has spent many nights lying in bed and listening to Dean’s even breathing, scared out of his mind and unable to find any sleep himself. But if he gets that amulet for his Dad then his father would be safe whenever he needs to leave them for his work. He, Sam, would protect his Dean but their father was on his own and needed extra-protection.

So Sam turns his well-practiced puppy dog eyes on Uncle Bobby and pleads, “Can I, - Could I please have this amulet, Uncle Bobby? I want to give it to Dad, for Christmas.”

As if anyone could ever say no to those eyes. Bobby simply takes the amulet and hangs it around Sam’s neck.

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

No one will take you from me

2 I take this from you and give you my heart

Another Christmas they spend without their father. It’s not the first and it won’t be the last. There had been a time when Sam had resented John for always leaving them alone but not tonight.

Tonight he is glad to have his big brother all to himself; that he didn’t went with their father on that Wendigo hunt. Instead, Dean had insisted that he would keep Sam’s sorry ass company before his little brother dies from teenage angst. Sam is too happy to even feel offended at the remark.

They have this tradition. Every year they say that they won’t get each other presents and every year, they do. It’s never anything expensive or even special. What counts, at least to Sam, is the gesture. The ‘I saw this and thought of you’ sentiment. Only this year, he wants to give Dean something very special.

He has been thinking about this a lot (more than once under the shower with one of his slicked up finger pressed deep inside of him and his brother’s name on his lips). Dean had been his first everything. His first word and the destination of his first steps (he had learned this as well from the leather journal), his first friend, his first fight. First kiss and first crush. It is only natural that Sam wants him to be his first lover as well (or as natural as that could be for two brothers).

The motel room they’re currently residing in is only lit by the lights on the Christmas tree Dean insisted they put up. Dean is over at the kitchen unit to prepare them some eggnog, probably spicing his more than Sam’s. Not that Sam cares. He wants to be sober for this but he would also prefer for Dean to be as well. Neither of them should be able to blame the alcohol later.

When Dean saunters over to him with two cups in his hands, Sam’s heart begins to race in his chest. Now or never.

He waits for Dean to place their drinks on the table and sit down next to him before turning around to face his brother. Deep breaths, Sam he tells himself. He kissed you first and not the other way around. Dean wanted you then and he still wants you now.

“I have a present for you.” Sam blurts out, mouth faster than his brain. Dean smiles at him, amused at his little brother’s excitement.

“I thought we don’t give each other presents this year, Sammy?” he says even when he gets up to retrieve a wrapped box himself. Dean sits back down with a smug smirk on his face when he hands him his gift, like he has just beaten Sam in a game only he knows they were playing. Sometimes Sam wonders why he loves this giant dork (there are a million reasons and none is needed, he just does).

Sam opens his present with sweaty palms, hands slightly shaking with nerves. He can’t really concentrate on the box in his hands when his thoughts are dancing around his plans for tonight. But then he opens the lid and forgets to breathe for a second. It’s an old and slightly worn looking edition of the Malleus Maleficarum. Sam can tell with one look that it is the original script, in Latin with all the original illustrations. This thing is worth a fortune and he has no idea how Dean got his hands on it.

“How -?” he stammers, confused and awed and so in love it hurts.

“Called in a few favors, no big deal. I knew my geek of a little brother would like it.” It’s a statement but Sam hears the question underneath.

“I love it! You’re the best.” And for good measure, he springs at Dean and hugs him, clinging like he never wants to let go. For a moment he even forgets about his own present, just basks in Dean’s apparent love for him. That is until the faint traces of sweat and musk hit his nose underneath the intoxicating smell of leather and gunpowder. Dean. Home.

Mine.

Sam pulls back from Dean and moves to stand in front of him. “Now my gift.” And with that he quickly strips of his clothes until he is completely naked. His eyes never leave Dean’s face.

“Sam?” his big brother whispers, cheeks pink and eyes bright. Sam can read confusion in his face, but also want and hesitation. Dean is biting his bottom lips incessantly and Sam wants it to be his own lip between those teeth.

“I want you to be my first, Dean. I trust you like no one else. I ��� There is no one else I want more than you.” And when it looks like Dean still wants to let him down easy he hastily adds the one word that will be Dean’s downfall one day. “Please.”

Dean locks their gazes and stands up as well. He’s still taller than Sam, if only by an inch, and it’s enough to make Sam feel safe. A big, callused hand cups his cheek, thumb idly tracing his cheekbone. Dean is smiling softly at him when he says, “Are you sure, Sammy? I need you to be really sure. I don’t – I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you.”

Sam wants the floor to open up and swallow him down when he feels himself tearing up at those words. “You would never hurt me. That’s why I want it to be you.” And because I love you, he doesn’t add.

At Sam’s words Dean’s smile turns sad around the edges, like he doesn’t believe in himself to never hurt Sam but wants to nevertheless. He takes his hand from Sam’s face to remove his amulet from around his neck and silently places it around Sam’s instead.

“If I take this gift from you then I want you to have a part of me tonight as well.”

You’ll always have my heart

3 I keep you safe

“Dean, come on man, don’t do this me. Not again. I can’t – not without you. I need you. We need you. Dad and I will kill each other without you around.” When the body in front of him still doesn’t show any sign of life Sam draws his best and final weapon. “Please, Dean. For me. Wake up.”

A shiver runs down his spine and he swears he can feel something. He’s not sure, not one hundred percent, but he thinks it was Dean. The metal that rests on his chest feels hot, warmer than his own skin. It had been given to him together with Dean’s other belongings. Sam couldn’t even explain it, but putting it around his own neck felt like the only logical thing to do. It makes him feel closer to Dean, the warmth of it a reminder of all those times he felt the amulet pressed against his chest, warmed by Dean’s body heat.

To see his brother lay in a hospital bed, deathly still and pale, so short after almost having lost him once already, makes Sam feel sick. Still, he won’t budge from his side. He doesn’t care what his father tried to do, if he really wants to summon the demon and have a macho show off with him. All he cares about is Dean. He doesn’t really know how to be any other way. And he knows Dean is here, he felt him more than once already. As long as this stays true there is still a chance to get him back. He will find a way, just like he did find that faith healer in Nebraska.

Dean looks almost peaceful if it weren’t for the tube in his throat and the bruises on his face. But his brother is never still, not even in his sleep. He would hog the covers, kick at Sam and shuffle up to him when he is cold (despite having both blankets). It’s even worse when he’s awake, always moving, whether his hands are busy cleaning weapons or his mouth running away on him. It is just not right to see him lying there, unmoving, like he is already dead.

Sam walks over to his brother’s still body until he stands next to his head and able to look down at him. He already misses the green of his eyes and the crinkles around them whenever Sam makes him crack up. Even his freckles are almost invisible on the pale skin. Still, Sam manages to bring his own face to smile for his big brother, remembering how much he loves Sam’s dimples. He even told Sam, once. Dean had been pretty smashed when Sam had picked him up at a bar. He had been chattering away with a gorgeous blonde and at first Sam had thought they were flirting, torn between feeling bad for cock blocking Dean and feeling resentful against the unknown woman. But then he heard Dean say, “And he has this smile, so bright it hurts. And dimples. Fucking dimples. Kill me ev’ry time.”

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’m gonna safe you. I’ll always keep you safe.” His hands go to the amulet underneath his shirt on their own accord. “That’s what I got you this for. To protect you,” with that he bends down and places one lingering kiss on Dean’s too cold and dry lips.

The amulet slips out of his collar at the movement and lands in the hollow of Dean’s throat. That’s when he feels the warmth of it spread through his whole body.

I’m coming back to you

4 I’ll follow you into the dark

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He just couldn’t.

Bobby had helped him build the pyre before driving off at Sam’s request. No one had been allowed to touch Dean’s body but him. Sam needed to do this alone. Had to get used to the feeling anyway.

But when he places the lifeless body on the pyre he knows that he can’t burn Dean’s body. Rationally, he knows it’s stupid. It’s too late. Sam fucked it up and now he has lost the only thing that was ever really important to him. He looks at the familiar face, the one he had cleaned up and the body he had stitched back together before dressing it in new clothes. Why would he have done that if he hadn’t planned on burying Dean, if there hadn’t been some hope left in his broken heart?

And so he lifts his brother down from where he lays on the pyre and carries him over to an empty spot in the deserted field. Sam kneels next to the body that had held him in his strong arms not even twenty-four hours ago. It’s gonna be okay, Sam he had said. I would do it again, a thousand times.

“It’s not okay, Dean. How can it be without you here? I don’t know how to go on without you. I never had to.” That’s when his eyes fall on the amulet around Dean’s neck. The surge of anger comes as a surprise but he welcomes it. Everything is better than the despair ripping him apart. This stupid thing was supposed to keep his brother safe. Hadn’t Bobby said it protects the one who wears it? It is probably just a useless piece of shit after all; nothing special, just like he had thought when he was a kid.

He takes it off his brother and intends to throw it away, offended and mad at himself that he ever thought there was something out there that would help him protecting the ones he loved. It had always been on him alone and he had fucked up. Every. Single. Time.

But just as he winds up his hand a breeze hits him in the face, carrying the scent of worn leather and gun powder with it. Dean. Home.

Mine.

Tears gather at the corners of his eyes when he remembers that day ten years ago. And just like that he knows what he has to do.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know you want me to go on, live a normal, apple pie life. But I can’t do that. You are my happy ending. So what I’m going to do is find that bitch and kill her. And then I’m going to follow you. I will find you, and – if I can’t save you, then I’m going to stay with you. It’s not hell if you’re there.”

We were never supposed to be apart.

5 A reminder of my mistakes

In their line of work there are a lot of sounds that made your skin crawl and ears bleed. Sounds that make you want to cry or scream.

None of them had been even close to prepare Sam for the sound of his heart hitting the bottom of a trashcan.

He is still standing in the middle of the motel room, frozen to the spot by shock. So many emotions are clogging his airways and he can’t breathe. Can’t walk or talk or do anything other than stare at the simple black cylinder. The scene replays behind his eyes again and again, the sound forever burnt into his eardrums.

It’s you and me against the world.

Is it?

It feels like losing Dean all over again. He’s back in the hospital, back on the field, faced with a pale face and closed eyes. Only this time it feels more like his fault than ever before. God, fate, whatever it was it had given him Dean back just for Sam to drive him away. Maybe for good this time.

So many mistakes. What happened that he couldn’t see what he was doing? How could he ever let Dean down the way he had? The questions are running around in his head and he is still staring at the trash can. Replaying the scene over and over again as if by some miracle time will rewind itself. Like Dean will come back and pick it back up. Saying it was just a scare, just a way to get his hurt across. As if Sam wasn’t able to see it on Dean’s face, like he himself hadn’t felt punched in the gut by the disappointment and pain he saw there. Never in their lives had Dean looked at him like that.

But his brother doesn’t come back. He can hear the Impala roaring to life and he knows he has to hurry. Is not sure Dean would not drive away without him. Would understand if he did.

Only, there is a tiny voice in his head that tells him he can still fix this. There has to be a way to prove to Dean that Sam can be trusted. That he can maybe even be loved again, one day. It can’t be over. Not like that.

And so he walks over to the innocent looking bin like it didn’t swallow the symbol of their bond. Maybe Dean will never want to wear it again and that’s fine with Sam (it really isn’t) but he won’t leave it behind. He will carry it with him, a constant reminder of his mistakes. Of all the times he let his brother down. This way, he can remember to do better, be what Dean deserves. He has to.

I will find a way to safe us.

+1 I never stopped wanting you

They don’t have many traditions left these days. After that Christmas before Dean’s deal they both couldn’t bring themselves to really celebrate it again. Too many memories. Too much hurt.

Too much left unsaid in the empty space between them.

He can’t look at a room lit by the soft light of Christmas decoration and not remember the way it had made Dean’s sweat slicked skin glow. Can’t enjoy eggnog without expecting the taste of Dean right underneath it and hurt if he doesn’t find it. He just can’t.

And so they silently walk the dark halls and let the shadows of the past haunt their dreams.

But this year, Sam feels like he wants to do something special for his brother. He had woken up antsy and jittery, like there is something he has forgotten, something he desperately needs to do. It is one of his best kept secrets but whenever he feels like that he will go to his duffel and fumble for the small fissure in the material. Behind it his most valued possession is hidden from prying eyes (read: Dean disregarding his privacy on principle).  He would take the amulet he had pulled out of a trashcan so many years ago and put it around his neck.

It never fails to anchor him. To make him feel safe. Close to the brother he has lost too many times already.

When Dean had disappeared to Purgatory (not that he had been aware of this back then) Sam had worn it every day. The reminder of his mistakes. Even when Dean had been back Sam had barely taken it off. Nothing Dean had said back then was a better reminder of his mistakes than the familiar weight around his neck. The amulet belonged to Dean, always had. And whenever Sam is wearing it that means he has failed his brother. Again.

It is a strange contradiction, how it would make him feel safe and closer to Dean when at the same time it would always remind him of the ways he let his brother down. But he never questions it, that’s just how things are.

This night is not different. He feels guilty and hopeful at the same time. They’re on better terms ever since the Mark was removed from his brother’s arm. Maybe he can start making some amends.

When he checks his phone for the time (4:40am) he finds that it’s Christmas. That yesterday had been Christmas Eve. His hand goes to the horned pendant without his input while his feet carry him to the kitchen. If there is a way to give Dean a treat it is by gifting him with a homemade pie.

And so Sam gets to work. Their kitchen is surprisingly well stocked thanks to Dean’s weird but endearing nesting habit. Sam always gets this fond little smile whenever he thinks about this utterly domestic side of his brother. Dean would have been a great father if he would’ve ever gotten the chance. Ben had loved him; hell every child they ever interacted with had taken a shine to Dean almost instantly. Dean had raised him and Sam couldn’t have asked for a better big brother despite the mistakes a child was prone to make when raising another child.

A pie may be not much but Sam hopes it gets the message across.

He’s just about to put the pie in the pre-heated oven when he hears the tell-tale sound of slippers shuffling down the hall. Sam checks the clock and sees that it’s almost 6am by now.

“Sammy? What’ya doin’ h’re?” Sam’s heart stops in his chest at the sight of his sleep-mused brother, bed hair standing up funnily on the right side of his head and eyes still bleary from sleep.

“Nothin’. Just. Baking, I guess.” He tries to shrug nonchalant, like this is no big deal. Like he does things like that all the time (he never does).

Judging by Dean’s incredulous look he doesn’t buy it at all. “Baking? You? Sam, you never bake.”

Sam bristles at that. “I do. I did. Sometimes.” Dean continues to look disbelievingly at him. “Shuddup.”

That gets him a grin. “Eloquent. And full of flour. You look like the cookie monster attacked you.” And before Sam can do anything other than gape at Dean his big brother is already in his space to whisk the flour off of Sam’ chest.

His own smile falls of his face when a sharp jolt races down his body as Dean’s hand catches at the brass pendant underneath his sleep shirt. Dean has a look on his face like he’s seen a ghost (or not, he mostly looks pissed of whenever he sees them) and his eyes are wide and unblinking when he looks up at Sam.

He knows he needs to say something, explain, deflect. Something. But the words have died in his mouth before they can get out and Dean still hasn’t said a thing. He only looks at Sam with a question in his expressive eyes and how is Sam supposed to answer it when he can’t explain it to himself.

But Dean never asks it out loud. Instead, he reaches underneath Sam’s shirt (ignoring the shiver that goes through Sam when their skin touches) to retrieve his amulet.

“I’m sorry, Dean. So sorry.” Sam can’t help the words tumbling out of his mouth. He doesn’t even know for what he is apologizing. For keeping the necklace, for letting Dean down again and again, for not being what his brother deserves.

“For what? Sammy, look at me. Please.” Reluctantly, Sam does. “Why are you sorry?”

The damn breaks without warning.

“For everything. I let you down so many times, I always fuck things up. I couldn’t save you from hell. I betrayed you. I started the apocalypse and almost ended the world. I hurt you. So much. I didn’t look for you when you were in Purgatory. I didn’t close the gates of hell when I could. You killed Benny for me and I couldn’t even do that. I killed Charlie. I – I” Sam can’t breathe, tears and snot all over his face, body trembling violently.

Warm arms close around him and a hand presses his too hot face against cool skin. A neck that smells like worn leather and gunpowder. Dean. Home.

“Shhh. It’s okay, Sammy. Shhh, everything is gonna be okay, I promise. We both made mistakes and most of the stuff you just said was as much mine as it was yours. Hell, over most of this stuff we had no control. You saved me so many times, Sam. I owe you my life, my soul, my everything. Without you I wouldn’t be here. I’m sorry, okay? For throwing it away. For letting you believe all this crap about yourself.” Sam can’t believe his own ears. He snuffles softly against Dean’s neck but keeps quiet otherwise. Afraid to break the spell they’re apparently under. “Listen, little brother, because I’m gonna say something important. You could never let me down. I was angry at the world and I let it out on you. And for that I’m sorry.” Dean takes a deep breath before he asks, “Do you want me to let go or do you need another minute?”

In lieu of an answer Sam just tightens his hold on Dean. His brother chuckles softly into his ear. “Alright, you big baby.” Sam doesn’t comment on the kiss that is pressed on his temple.

They stand like that for another five minutes. At one point Dean has started to rock them gently and Sam is this close to falling asleep in the safe embrace of his brother’s strong arms. That’s when Dean decides enough is enough and gently untangles them.

“Is this pie?” he asks with delight in his voice. Sam was never so thankful for Dean’s talent to deflect chick-flick moments.

“Yeah. Cherry. Your favorite.”

Dean beams at him like Sam had just declared him president or something like that. “You didn’t have to, Sammy. I don’t have anything for you this year.” He really does sound regretful at that and Sam is hit with another idea.

He slowly takes off the amulet around his neck and holds it out for Dean. “You could wear it again?” He tries for nonchalant again but falls off the mark by miles.

Dean looks at him for a long moment, like he’s not sure how that is a gift from him to Sam. But then his mouth smiles in that soft, private way that only Sam ever gets to see.

“I’d love to.”

I missed you, too.

[touchstarvedsam]

AAAAAH UR URL IS SOCUTE!!! Like imagine sam tryna bake cookies in his ugly adorable Christmas sweater with really comfy sweatpants and fluffy socks with his hair tied up in a messy bun like he's so warm and when he's done with the cookies the kitchen is a mess but dean was ok with it bc his Sammy is too cute right now he just wants to cuddle him and feed each other the horrible cookies and give each other sweet kisses all dAY IM SORRRY

LIKE THIS UGLY ADORABLE THING?

BECAUSE WE HAVE SAM IN (GAG REEL) CANON WEARING AN UGLY SWEATER AND NOW I’M PICTURING THIS ADORABLE ASSHOLE MAKING CHRISTMAS COOKIES. PENGUIN SHAPED COOKIES TO MATCH THE FREAKING PENGUINS ON HIS UGLY SWEATER.

no but imagine if sam had closed the gates of hell and it didn’t kill him. demons were no longer a problem, and they left the angel problems to the angels to deal with. sam and dean didn’t care anymore because the main threat was gone.

they started a normal life together, bought a house but kept the bunker for research purposes. for protection. and they’d hunt sometimes, the occasional salt and burn, wendigo, werewolf, normal monsters, like how it used to be. and isn’t that weird, considering monsters normal? but it’s their life.

but when they weren’t hunting they’d live normally, well, as normal as two guys who’ve spent their whole lives hunting monsters can live. they made friends with their neighbors. they were sam and dean winchester, but as far as their neighbors knew, they weren’t brothers. they were married, have been for almost ten years and still going strong. the neighbors don’t ask who took whose last name, but they’re ready to answer that. sam wesson married dean winchester on september 13, 2005 (shhhhhh)

they lived in silverton, colorado, where they could name almost everyone. it was scary at first, how friendly everyone was. dean didn’t think it was genuine, but after almost a year, he couldn’t deny that they were just nice there, and settled in more comfortably. they were accepted, who they are, two married men. and no one would ever know they were brothers.

holidays became their thing. sam would decorate for all the holidays by himself, until dean finally kicked in around christmastime and climbed up on the roof to put all the lights on the house.

sam would do the baking because he liked it. dean still loved cooking, but he left the treats to sam to do with as he pleased. shopping wasn’t a hassle because they didn’t argue on much; they knew what each other liked, and when dean went food shopping, he’d pick out new treats for sammy to bake because he knew his little brother wanted to learn more.

it was the sweaters that got dean, though. every year, sam would buy them different sweaters for christmas. dean never really liked them, but he’d wear them once, just once, to see the smile on sammy’s face when he saw his big brother in the sweater he bought him. but sam, though. sam was too freaking adorable in his sweater, dean couldn’t stand it.

he’d hum christmas carols as he’d mix the ingredients, get flour all over the ugly red sweater, and dean would feel his heart swell because sammy was his.

after three years in silverton, they decided they should invite their closest friends over for parties. sammy called them ugly sweater parties, and guests couldn’t come in unless they had an ugly sweater on. sam was a lot better baking by the time they felt comfortable enough to let others into their home, and he made ugly christmas sweater sugar cookies to hand out to their friends. dean could never be happier, after seeing that smile on his little brother’s face.

[sidekick-hero]

the birth of stars

My fingers move over your body to a rhythm as old as time. We can’t hear it, but we feel it in our bones, under our skin.

Your body is spread out on the sheets like a sacrificial offering and the animal in me howls with lust. It wants to take, to claim, to devour.

But I won’t let it.

You’re more than a sacrifice. More than just a body, no matter how delicious the light shines on your smooth, freckle-dotted skin. You’re a warm shower after being in the cold for too long, the first meal of a starving and the last sunrise of a dying man.

I want this to last. Want us, forever.

Just like this.

Miles of muscles quivering in sweet anticipation of my touch, able to kill a man in a heartbeat and yet still, unmoving. Waiting. Trusting. Scars pronounced even in the dim light of another day ending. The body of a soldier, a warrior.

A hero.

This body tells a story. One I want to hear until the day I take my last breath on this earth. Then, we can start to write another one.

I love how you let me touch you without constraint, control handed over like the most precious gift. I will never want a ring as long as I can have this. The way you arch in my touch just so slightly, willing to be good for me but oh, the way it feels.

My hands play you like an instrument, eliciting the sweetest sounds, an opera of desperate pleas and breathy moans. There is my name, reverently spoken.

The gospel of our love.

The crescendo of your voice edges me on, fingers sinking in the tight heat of your begging flesh.

A union, two lives becoming one. Worlds colliding, the birth of stars between two lovers.  

And as we move as one we fall apart to be reborn. The phoenix rising out of the ashes, the remains of our burning passion. Every time we dance to this timeless song we become something new.

A little less of you and me each time, until the day our souls will be one again.

[sidekick-hero]

KAIHO

The room had been dark, and I awake for not even five minutes. Still, this very moment would become my most brilliant and detailed memory, like a movie playing in my head - only with touch and smell and longing. Do you think it’s presumptuous to claim that my heart recognized yours even before I opened my eyes that night? I bet you’d say that’s cheesy crap, right out of a chick flick movie, and ask me if I wanted you to braid my hair (Do you know that I’d let you if you’d really asked?). You would be right.

That doesn’t change the way I felt.

There’s a hole in my chest ever since I walked away from you.

Actually, that’s not true. I was damaged long before that, but the wound had been small, still mendable. But even then there were broken parts inside of me, undeniably so, and I can’t remember how it all started in the first place. I know there was a time when I was whole. A toddler with a toothy smile, a young boy who shared his room with a hero, a first grader whose big brother hung the moon and the stars for him and whose love was more certain than the sun’s ascend in the morning.

How did things change so fast, yet subtle, without either of us noticing?

Or did you know?

Dean, please, you need to tell me. Have you known all along? That my heart was flawed? A traitorous piece of meat hidden away in a prison of flesh and bones? Is this why you took it?

I never stood a chance, did I? I have no words to explain it, to describe to you all the ways it hurts to be close to you and still feel miles away. An ache, a longing so deep it has to be part of my DNA.

Was I ever really whole?

I hear you breathing on the other side of the room, a gentle snore, and I smile while I die a little bit more inside. I feel the ever growing void, a constant reminder of the incompleteness of my soul, a missing piece I will never obtain.

I saw the way you kissed her today, how you held her face in your hands. Those hands that once held mine, that have patched me up, that I have felt on my body more times than I can count.

They never touched me like this.

There is a hole in my chest, and it’s there since I was born. It will never get filled, because I’ve always known, I’m nothing you’d ever want.

Kaiho (Finnish) means a state of involuntary solitude in which the subject feels incompleteness and yearns for something unattainable or extremely difficult and tedious to attain.

[sidekick-hero]

Happy Birthday!! :D You're amazing and ILY ^^

OMG NANA THANK YOU *hugs you super tight*! Right back at you! ILY too :))

[sidekick-hero]

dying in slow motion

There are days when you wonder how this has become your life. You will look in the mirror and see a stranger. A monster dressed as man. Another sad story turned violent.

Your whole life is a collateral damage.

The man in the mirror smiles at you. All you see is a feral snarl. The mirror shatters.

Or is it your life?

You close your eyes but the nightmare stays. It’s in your heart, in your lungs. The disease is pumping through your veins and a scream claws its way out of your chest.

When you open them again redness is clouding your vision. You can’t see a thing, so your mind shows you a body. It’s jumping. Falling. Disappearing. There is blood on your hands and deadness in your eyes.

Shards on the floor and in your lungs. Breathing hurts. Being alive is so painful you feel tears sliding down your cheeks. But you made a promise.

There was a boy. He was right there, a hand's width away. You would look at him, and he would smile back at you like he couldn’t help it.

He was so beautiful.

Your knees hit the floor like your fist the innocent mirror. The one who dared to show you the truth. Hands trembling, desperate to hold onto something. Auburn hair. Broad shoulders. A bottle of whiskey.

But that’s all gone. You gave it up. You thought it was for the best.

You and him, you saved the world.

As the sobs wreck your body you can’t help but think, fuck the world.

It’s still gone. He’s still gone.

Once, there was a boy and he was all that was good and bright and warm. The one thing you did right. And you would cradle his face and he would look at you and you would kiss the love right from his lips.

Love cannot save us. It makes us bleed. It hurts. But we will always come back for more. And one day, it will make you promise to go on and you will wish you had been stronger.

But you’re not. You promised. You had nothing more to give to him and still didn’t think twice. That’s just how it works.

You will say ‘Sammy, I can’t.’ and he will look at you and say your name like only he was ever able to. In the end, you never stood a chance.

And so you pick yourself up from the ground, mindless of the mess you made. You wipe away the tears and leave blood tracks instead. You allowed yourself a moment of weakness and look a bit worse for the wear. You go on.

You’ve got work to do.