this is mainly a supernatural blog (heavy on sammy… i’ve been a sam girl forever, sorry not sorry). i write a mix of things and i’m pretty open when it comes to requests!
what i write:
– angst (im not scared to hurt your feelings)
– fluff (to make up for it… sometimes)
– suggestive / smut !occasionally! (18+ only pls)
– hurt/comfort, emotional stuff, etc.
i’m down to try most ideas, so feel free to send requests!!
yes i write for dean and or cas!
what i will NOT write:
– wincest / incest (absolutely not.)
– graphic torture / heavy gore
– weird or harmful ships (ex: sam x lucifer, minor/child reader x anyone, etc… just no.)
basically if it feels wrong, i’m not writing it
requests are open <3 feel free to send anything and i’ll let you know if i’m comfy with it!
guys wtf. how do i keep the pics on my post from going vertical 😭 i keep trying to place them horizontally bit they keep doing that bs. someone help please 😵💫
Can you write a fic where Sam, Charlie, and Rowena work a case together. I feel like we never truly got the relationship between all three of them that we deserved. Also I want Rowena to be a good guy and I know that doesn't line up with Charlie being alive but let's pretend. CHARLIE NEVER DIES!
Ps. There is no need to Dean or Cas bash I just want the focus to be on Sammy
three's a coven
₊˚⊹♡ description: sam gets stuck on a case with rowena and charlie and somehow ends up third wheeling the weirdest friendship duo alive. ₊˚⊹♡
✦ warnings , maybe?✦
implications of dean dying/using dean’s voice to mess with sam, emotional manipulation, slight angst but mostly fun banter
music blasted from the kitchen, some aggressively upbeat 80s song rowena swore was “a masterpiece, samuel, don’t be uncultured,” (most definetly dean's doing) while charlie sang along horribly off-key.
sam walked in carrying three lore books and immediately stopped.
“you’re burning the grilled cheese.”
charlie looked up from the stove. “no, i’m innovating.”
the pan hissed.
rowena lounged at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and one of the bunker’s spell books open in front of her. “the lass is right. genius requires sacrifice.”
sam stared at the smoke curling toward the ceiling. “yeah, well, the sacrifice right now is my lungs.”
charlie pointed the spatula at him. “you’re being really negative for someone who’s about to eat this.”
“i’m absolutely not eating that.”
“rude.”
sam moved past her and grabbed the pan before the sandwich fully turned to charcoal. “last time you ‘innovated,’ dean found ramen noodles in the coffee maker.”
“okay but technically it worked.”
“it broke.”
“worked briefly,” charlie corrected.
rowena snorted into her tea.
sam sighed deeply. “you two together are actually exhausting.”
“and yet,” charlie said dramatically, “you love us.”
“i tolerate you.”
“aww,” rowena cooed, resting her chin in her hand. “he’s emotionally repressed.”
sam muttered something under his breath and charlie gasped.
“oh my god, he likes you now.”
“i never said i didn’t like her.”
“sam,” charlie said, horrified, “you literally called her ‘a morally questionable crypt keeper’ like a month ago.”
the case started with three missing people and one witness claiming she saw “a woman made of teeth” outside a movie theater.
dean had wanted to come until cas dragged him into some angel mess five states away.
his exact words before leaving were, “take rowena because if something explodes it’ll probably be her fault anyway.”
rowena had looked weirdly flattered by that.
now sam sat at the war room table while charlie clicked through police reports on her laptop.
“okay,” she said, spinning the screen toward them, “victim one disappeared outside a theater, victim two got snatched from a grocery store parking lot, victim three vanished walking home.”
sam frowned. “there’s no connection.”
“there is,” rowena said casually.
charlie blinked. “you already figured it out?”
rowena tapped one long nail against the map. “ley lines. there’s an intersection point beneath every location.”
sam immediately looked up. “seriously?”
“mhm. old magic too. nasty stuff.”
charlie leaned closer to the map. “so what are we thinking? witch?”
“older,” rowena said softly.
the way she said it made sam straighten a little.
charlie pointed at her. “that tone right there? hate that.”
rowena smirked. “crocotta, maybe. mimicry creatures. they lure people in with familiar voices.”
sam frowned harder. “those things are practically extinct.”
rowena lifted a shoulder. “aren’t we all?”
charlie immediately pointed at her again. “see this is why i like her. everything she says sounds vaguely threatening but weirdly poetic.”
sam tried not to smile.
failed a little.
charlie noticed instantly. “oh my god. sam’s having emotions.”
the motel they checked into later that night was disgusting.
charlie immediately claimed the bed furthest from the giant suspicious stain on the ceiling.
“that’s mold,” sam said.
“that’s a portal to another dimension.”
“same thing, honestly,” rowena muttered while unpacking.
sam tossed his duffel onto the chair. “you sure you wanna be on this case?”
charlie looked at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question imaginable. “sam.”
“what?”
“you fist fought a clown once because dean dared you.”
“that is completely unrelated.”
“deeply related.”
“before sam could respond, rowena walked into the room carrying an absurd amount of tiny motel soaps and shampoos in her arms.
sam stared at her. “...did you rob housekeeping?”
rowena looked offended immediately. “rob is such an ugly word.”
charlie looked up from the bed and immediately started laughing. “oh my god.”
“i wanted a proper shower,” rowena said defensively, dropping the little bottles onto the mattress. “and what exactly am i supposed to do with those pathetic tiny things? wash half an arm?”
sam blinked at the pile. “rowena, there are like fifteen bottles here.”
“yes, and now perhaps i can shampoo my hair without rationing it like we’re in the great depression.”
charlie was practically wheezing. “you stole motel shampoo because there wasn’t enough for your hair?”
“have you seen my hair?” rowena asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “two tiny bottles were never going to cut it, darling.”
sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “i can’t do this tonight.”
“oh hush,” rowena said dismissively. “you’re just jealous because my curls are luxurious.”
charlie fully fell backward onto the bed laughing.
and honestly, that was the problem.
the three of them worked together way too well.”
charlie and rowena bounced off each other perfectly, charlie rambling about fantasy games while rowena pretended not to care even though she was obviously invested, rowena teaching charlie tiny harmless spells just because she thought it was funny watching her get excited.
they found rowena in an abandoned train yard outside town.
wind whipped through the rusted train cars while rowena stood in the middle of a painted spell circle, muttering something under her breath.
and across from her stood the thing.
it looked almost human.
until it smiled.
too many teeth.
the creature tilted its head toward sam.
then spoke in dean’s voice.
“sammy.”
sam froze for half a second.
that was all it needed.
it lunged.
“HEY TOOTH FAIRY !” charlie yelled.
the crocotta snapped toward her just in time for charlie to fire a flare gun directly into its face.
the thing screamed.
rowena immediately slammed both hands forward and dark magic exploded through the train car hard enough to shake the walls.
the creature crashed backward.
sam tackled it before it could recover.
the fight was brutal. rusted metal scraping his back, claws catching his jacket, the thing whispering in dean’s voice the entire time.
“sammy…”
“help me…”
“you let me die…”
“shut up!” sam snapped.
the silver blade plunged deep into the creature’s chest.
it shrieked once before collapsing still.
silence filled the train yard.
sam sat there breathing hard.
charlie jogged over first. “you okay?”
“yeah,” he said automatically.
“sam.”
he sighed. “no. not really.”
rowena approached slower this time.
for once there wasn’t any teasing look on her face. no smugness. just quiet understanding.
“it used his voice,” she said softly.
sam nodded.
charlie sat beside him on the gravel. “for the record? dean would absolutely make fun of you for getting emotionally manipulated by denture work over there.”
sam laughed before he could stop himself.
a real laugh.
rowena smiled faintly. “the ginger’s right.”
charlie leaned against sam’s shoulder. “you did good, dude.”
for a second none of them moved.
just the three of them sitting there in the cold after another hunt that should’ve gone horribly wrong.
hunter. hacker. witch.
somehow it worked.
then rowena sighed dramatically. “well. since none of us died, i say we celebrate.”
sam narrowed his eyes. “how.”
charlie’s grin turned immediately dangerous.
“karaoke.”
sam stood up so fast it was almost impressive. “absolutely not.”
“oh, absolutely yes,” rowena said, linking her arm through his before he could escape.
charlie pointed at him. “you’re outnumbered.”
“this feels like bullying.”
“it is bullying,” charlie said happily.
sam groaned the entire walk back to the car while charlie cackled and rowena looked unbearably pleased with herself.
and honestly?
it was probably one of the best hunts he’d ever been on.
author's note: i’m actually obsessed w this trio like ??? we were robbed so bad. charlie and rowena would’ve been SUCH a chaotic duo and sam would’ve been standing there stressed the entire time. also rowena being weirdly fond of charlie in my head makes so much sense. anyways i loved writing this sm, ty for the request! <3
hey cutiess 🩷 thank you so sooo much on all the love on my last post, lowk caught me really off guard, HAHA no but seriously! sorry for the inactivity recently, im finally done with finals, amen to that 🙏🏻 but also started a new job so im actually dying over here. but apart from that, im gonna try to have something posted either tonight or tomorrow night since im off! so if you have any ideas or requests, feel free to send them, theyre open! 🫶
₊˚⊹♡ description : after accidentally pushing all the wrong buttons, dean realizes you’ve been hiding period cramps all day and suddenly turns into the sweetest man alive. ₊˚⊹♡
✦ warnings , maybe?✦
period cramps/pain, reader getting overwhelmed, teasing, mild arguing, soft!dean, established relationship
sharp enough to make your stomach twist for half a second, but you barely react. you’re used to it. years of hunting while injured, exhausted, bruised half to death—period cramps don’t exactly make the list of things worth complaining about anymore.
so you just breathe through it and keep flipping through bobby’s lore books at the kitchen table.
unfortunately for you, dean winchester is bored.
“whatcha reading there, sweetheart?” dean asks, dragging out the pet name in that annoying voice specifically designed to get on your nerves.
you don’t even look up. “a book.”
“no way. thought it was a toaster.”
sam snorts quietly from the couch.
you glare at both of them.
dean grins, completely pleased with himself, then leans over your shoulder anyway. too close. warm and loud and smelling like leather and soap.
“you know,” he says, poking your side, “you get this wrinkle between your eyebrows when you’re concentrating.”
another poke.
you jerk away instantly, more harshly than intended because your stomach is already killing you.
dean blinks. “okay. damn.”
“don’t poke me.”
“ooo, touchy today.”
you clench your jaw.
normally, you’d throw something at him by now. normally, you’d laugh a little. but your back hurts, your head hurts, your cramps are getting progressively more evil by the hour, and dean has spent the entire day acting like an overgrown child.
every little thing feels amplified.
the teasing.
the constant touching.
the noise.
at one point, he literally steals the pen out of your hand just to make you chase him for it.
“you’re so annoying,” you mutter.
“you love me.”
another cramp twists low in your stomach and you nearly fold in half with it. you hide it quickly, gripping the edge of the table.
dean notices none of it.
by evening, you’re curled into yourself on bobby’s couch pretending to watch whatever crappy action movie dean found on cable while sam cooks dinner in the kitchen.
well. “cooks.”
“you’re burning the garlic bread,” you mumble.
“i am not—”
smoke immediately starts pouring from the oven.
dean laughs so hard he almost falls off the recliner.
you groan, pressing a hand to your abdomen.
and then dean pokes your thigh with his foot.
“hey,” he says. “you okay over there?”
you ignore him.
another poke.
“seriously, you’ve been acting weird all day.”
poke.
that’s it.
“would you stop touching me for five seconds?!” you snap suddenly. “jesus christ, dean.”
the room goes quiet.
dean pulls his foot back immediately.
sam looks up from the kitchen like a deer caught in headlights.
you shut your eyes the second the words leave your mouth because now your emotions are joining the party too. awesome.
“i just—” you exhale shakily. “dean, i’m tired, i feel like crap, everything hurts and you have been on me all day.”
dean stares at you.
then realization slowly dawns across his face.
“oh.”
you want to die.
“ooh.”
“don’t make it weird.”
“i’m not making it weird.”
sam immediately disappears into the kitchen before he gets dragged into it.
dean clears his throat awkwardly. “so... uh.”
you bury your face in the couch cushion.
you laugh despite yourself, but another cramp hits and you wince hard enough that dean’s expression immediately softens.
and just like that, the teasing is gone.
“you okay?”
the genuine concern in his voice makes something warm ache in your chest.
a few hours later, you and bobby walk into his living room and freeze.
“...what the hell?”
blankets everywhere. pillows piled on the couch. the lights dimmed low.
there were snacks all over the coffee table.
candy.
chips.
cookies.
popcorn.
and—
"is that hot chocolate?"
dean pointed proudly.
"courtesy of sam."
sam, sitting in bobby's recliner with a book, looked offended.
"i made three batches because somebody kept burning the milk."
"i said i got distracted."
"you stared directly at the microwave."
dean ignored him.
your eyes moved back to the table.
"...dean."
extra buttered popcorn.
your favorite.
you looked back at him.
he suddenly looked weirdly nervous.
"you were hurting all day." he shrugged awkwardly. "figured I'd stop being an ass."
your heart did something stupid.
"...you did all this?"
"nah." he smirked. "tiny elves broke into bobby's house."
you looked at the snacks again.
then at him.
then back at the snacks.
"...this isn't gonna help my bloating, winchester."
“counterpoint,” he says seriously, holding up popcorn, “snacks.”
you laugh again.
god, he looks relieved hearing it.
“okay, important question. we feeling horror movie or rom-com?”
you stare at him.
“you hate rom-coms.”
“i tolerate them for you.”
“that’s worse somehow.”
dean drops onto the couch beside you, tugging a blanket over your legs before handing you a mug carefully.
“there,” he says quietly. “better?”
you glance around the room.
the snacks.
the stupid amount of blankets.
the DVDs scattered across the table — 10 Things I Hate About You, The Mummy, Never Been Kissed, and Rush Hour.
you look back at him suspiciously.
“who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”
he grins a little. “shut up.”
you take a sip of the hot chocolate and sigh softly at the warmth.
dean settles deeper into the couch and gently lifts your legs over his lap without even thinking about it, one hand rubbing absentmindedly against your calf beneath the blanket.
it’s so domestic it almost feels illegal.
sam chooses that moment to walk back in, takes one look at the two of you curled together, and immediately grimaces.
“oh, wow. this is disgusting.”
dean flips him off without looking away from you.
“you’re jealous because nobody loves you.”
sam mutters something about emotional damage and disappears upstairs.
you smile into your mug.
dean glances down at you after a second, quieter now.
“sorry I was bein’ an ass earlier.”
“you didn’t know.”
“still.” he shrugs. “shoulda noticed somethin’ was wrong.”
your heart squeezes painfully at that stupid soft tone he only ever uses when it’s just the two of you.
“you’re making up for it,” you murmur.
dean smirks. “yeah? i’m doing pretty good?”
“you made me a blanket fort. that’s boyfriend-level behavior.”
he points at you. “don’t expose me like that.”
you laugh softly as he pulls the blanket higher around your shoulders.
then he presses a quick kiss to your temple like it’s nothing.
like it doesn’t make your entire body melt.
“movie,” he announces quickly after, clearly pretending he didn’t just do that. “pick one.”
jo harvelle x (reader x sam w. established relationship!)
GIF IS NOT MINE
₊˚⊹♡ description : jo thinks she's losing her damn mind. every time you and sam walk into the roadhouse, every soft touch, every smile, every look between you two feels like salt in a wound she never asked for. because you're his — completely, stupidly in love — and jo can't stop wishing things were different ₊˚⊹♡
✦ warnings , maybe?✦
unrequited jo x fem!reader, jealous jo, pining, yearning, one-sided feelings, reader in a relationship w/ sam, dean being clueless, implied intimacy, light angst, jealousy-induced sam slander lol
the thing about having a crush on someone was that maybe — maybe — it would've been easier if they weren't around all the time.
except you were.
because every couple weeks, after hunts, after long drives and motel rooms and god knows what else, you and sam would show up at the roadhouse with dean.
and jo hated it.
she hated the stupid bell over the door because every single time it'd ring, her head would snap up automatically.
looking for you.
always you.
then she'd immediately hate herself for it.
because sam would be right beside you.
always beside you.
his hand resting against the small of your back.
his fingers brushing yours.
his stupid soft smile already aimed at you before you'd even walked all the way inside.
and jo hated that too.
not because sam was doing anything wrong.
he wasn't.
that was the problem.
he loved you.
and you loved him.
everyone could tell.
you looked at each other like people in movies did.
like people who got happy endings.
like people who looked at someone and thought, yeah. that's it.
jo noticed every little thing.
every single thing.
the way you'd steal fries off sam's plate and pretend you weren't doing it.
the way you played with your rings when you were nervous.
the way your voice got quieter when you were tired.
the way your eyes squinted when you laughed.
god, your laugh.
sometimes jo wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever.
other times she wanted to throw herself into traffic because hearing it while you looked at sam made her chest hurt.
because you were—
you were everything.
your face.
your voice.
your hair.
your body.
your smile.
everything.
literally everything.
and sam got all of it.
sam got your attention.
sam got your touches.
sam got your sleepy smiles at two in the morning.
sam got your arms around his neck.
sam got you.
and jo hated that little ugly thing in her chest every time she looked at him.
because it wasn't fair.
she'd treat you better.
she would.
she knew she would.
the clubs were the worst.
dean dragged everybody out after successful hunts sometimes, and jo made the mistake of tagging along once.
exactly once.
because seeing you with sam nearly killed her.
music shook through the floor while colored lights flashed over your skin.
you were laughing against him, hands resting on his shoulders while he looked down at you with that same stupid expression.
that same i'm-so-in-love-with-you expression.
then you'd lean closer.
your body moving against his on the dance floor.
smiling up at him.
and jo sat at the bar pretending she wasn't staring.
pretending she wasn't thinking:
that should be me.
he doesn't know you like i do.
he doesn't notice things.
he doesn't deserve—
"jo."
she blinked.
dean was staring at her.
"...what?"
he raised an eyebrow.
"you've been staring at sam for like ten minutes."
jo nearly choked.
"what?!"
dean shrugged.
"i mean, i get it. giant dude, long hair—"
"i am not staring at sam."
dean looked unconvinced.
then his eyes narrowed.
"...wait."
oh no.
oh no no no—
"holy crap."
jo pointed at him immediately.
"don't."
he was already grinning.
"you have a crush on sam."
jo looked ready to launch herself across the table.
"i do not—"
dean leaned forward.
"jo and sam sitting in a tree—"
"dean!"
across the room, you looked over with a confused smile while sam glanced up too.
jo wanted to die.
actually die.
because dean had it completely wrong.
he wasn't entirely wrong about her staring.
she stared all the damn time.
except she wasn't watching sam.
she was watching you.
always you.
and it had gotten so bad she'd started noticing things she absolutely shouldn't.
like that motel months ago.
god.
she still wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear every time she thought about it.
she'd gotten up late for water or something — she couldn't even remember anymore — and while walking past your room she'd heard your laugh.
soft.
breathless.
then sam's voice.
too low to understand.
then you again.
quiet little moans through the wall.
and jo had stopped walking.
completely stopped.
because her brain should've immediately gone:
leave.
walk away.
go back to your room.
instead she'd frozen.
heart beating too fast.
face heating up.
because hearing you like that—
hearing sam whisper something that made you laugh again—
god.
it was horrible.
horrible because she knew she shouldn't stand there.
horrible because she listened for a few seconds too long.
horrible because jealousy twisted in her chest so hard she thought it might split open.
because all she could think was:
sam gets this too?
sam gets all of you?
then she'd practically sprinted back to her room.
and the next morning she'd barely looked at you.
while you sat beside sam smiling over breakfast like normal.
completely normal.
and sam looked at you the same way he always did.
like you hung the stars.
while jo sat there staring into her coffee thinking:
jesus christ.
"jo."
dean was still staring at her.
still waiting.
still convinced she'd fallen head over heels for sam winchester.
across the room, sam leaned down and whispered something into your ear.
you smiled instantly.
that soft smile.
the one jo hated most.
because sam smiled right back.
and suddenly it felt like jo was standing outside in the freezing cold looking through a window.
₊˚⊹♡ description: posing as sam winchester’s girlfriend for a hunt should’ve been easy. smile a little, hold his hand; act convincing. but when sam kisses you to keep your cover, it stops feeling fake way too fast.
✦ warnings , maybe?✦
fake dating trope, mutual pining, kissing, tension, idiot feelings
i never stood a chance against you
dean w. x reader
GIF IS NOT MINE
listening to:
₊˚⊹♡ description : it was never supposed to be this messy. you knew what dean was, what this life did to people. but knowing doesn’t stop the way your heart keeps choosing him anyway.
that’s the thing that made it worse—you knew. from the second you met him, leaning against the impala like he owned the world, you clocked him for exactly what he was.
temporary.
dean winchester wasn’t built for "forever". he was built for cheap motels, for one-night stands and early mornings, for leaving before things got "too real".
he pulls away, you chase.
he says it’s over, you don’t believe him.
he pushes you out, then shows up at your door like nothing happened.
and every time, every single time, you let him back in.
because when it’s good—it’s so good.
it’s late-night drives with the windows down, music blasting, his hand finding yours like it belongs there. it’s stupid jokes and shared glances over diner coffee. it’s the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention—like you’re something he doesn’t deserve.
make a wish, lawboy
sam w. x reader (birthday special!)
GIF IS NOT MINE
₊˚⊹♡ description : after a long, exhausting hunt, sam thinks his birthday’s just gonna pass like any other day… not unless you and dean are around.₊˚⊹♡
it'd been one of those hunts. the kind that drags on longer than it should, where everything smells like dirt and sweat and something dead, and nobody’s in the mood to talk by the time it’s over.
sam looks exhausted. like, really exhausted. hair a mess, flannel torn, that crease between his eyebrows that only shows up when he’s been thinking too hard all day.
and yeah—maybe also because it’s his birthday.
not that he mentioned it. not once.
you noticed this morning when he didn’t say anything. no jokes. nothing. just research, and another hunt like it was any other day.
which is exactly why you weren’t about to let it stay that way.
it’s nothing huge—you didn’t exactly have time to plan a full-on party—but you make it work.
a small cake you picked up earlier gets set on the tiny table. you stick a couple of mismatched candles in it. you even find some old streamers in dean’s bag (no idea why he has those, honestly) and tape them up crookedly across the wall.
it’s not perfect. it’s a little messy.
but it feels… right.
you step back, hands on your hips. “okay. not bad.”
₊˚⊹♡ description : you wake up in a motel room with no memory of what happened—just sam acting… off. the more things don’t add up, the harder you push for answers… whatever he’s hiding might break both of you. ₊˚⊹♡
not the usual motel quiet where you can hear the pipes creaking or dean flipping channels in the next room or sam pacing because he can’t sleep. this is different. like the air’s holding its breath.
you blink up at the ceiling. water stain in the corner. familiar.
your chest aches a little when you inhale.
“hey—hey, you’re up.”
sam’s voice. fast. too... relieved?
you turn your head and he’s right there, sitting too close on the edge of the bed like he never left. his hair’s a mess, eyes red, like he hasn’t slept in days.
“sam?” your voice comes out rough. “what—what happened?”
he freezes for a second. just a second. but you catch it.
then he shakes his head, quick. “you got hurt on a hunt. that’s all. you’re okay now.”
you frown. that doesn’t feel right. there’s this… gap. like a missing step you can’t see.
“i don’t remember.”
“you don’t need to.” he says it too fast again, reaching for your hand. “you’re here. that’s what matters.”
sam doesn’t leave your side. not really. even when he says he’s going to get food, he’s back too quick. he watches you like you might disappear if he looks away.
he won’t let you go on hunts.
“sam, i’m fine—”
“no.” immediate. “you’re not.”
you stare at him. “since when do you get to decide that?”
you’re in bobby’s place. books everywhere, dust in the air, the smell of whiskey and old paper. dean’s arguing—loud, like always—and sam’s trying to keep his voice down but failing.
you’re in the other room. you’re not supposed to be listening.
but you are.
“you made a deal, sam.” dean says, low and angry. “you don’t get to just pretend that didn’t happen.”
your stomach drops.
“i know what i did.” sam snaps back.
“do you? because it sounds like you’re acting like she just—what—walked it off?”
your name hangs in the air.
you stop breathing.
“keep your voice down.” sam says.
“she deserves to know.”
“no.” desperate. “she doesn’t.”
“she died, sam.”
everything goes still.
like the world just… stops.
“you think she wouldn’t wanna know that?” dean continues, relentless. “you think she’d be okay with you trading your life for hers without even telling her?”
you don’t remember screaming, but your throat hurts like you did.
bobby gives you space. dean won’t look at you. and sam—sam just stands there like he’s waiting for you to disappear again.
“how?” you ask finally. your voice is small now. hollow.
sam swallows. “vampire nest. you—” his voice breaks. “you didn’t make it out this time.”
you try to picture it. you can’t. it’s just blank. nothing.
“and you—what—just fixed it?” your laugh is sharp, wrong. “like it was nothing?”
“it wasn’t nothing.” he says, stepping closer. “it was—”
“what did you do, sam?”
he hesitates.
“sam.”
“i made a deal.” he says it like it hurts. “crossroads.”
your stomach twists.
“no.”
“i didn’t have a choice—”
“you always have a choice!” you snap. “how long?”
he looks away.
“sam.”
“…a year.”
“you’re kidding.”
he shakes his head.
“you’re kidding.” you repeat, but your voice is breaking now.
“i couldn’t let you stay dead.” he says, stepping closer again, hands shaking. “i couldn’t—i tried everything, i looked for another way, there wasn’t one and i—”
“so you just decided for me?” your eyes burn. “you decided i’d be okay with you dying instead?”
“i decided i wasn’t okay without you.” he says, and now he’s crying. actually crying. “i decided i couldn’t breathe, i couldn’t think, i couldn’t—i needed you back.”
your chest aches. god, it aches.
“that’s not fair.” you whisper.
“i know.” his voice cracks. “i know it’s not fair.”
“you get one year.” you say, numb. “and then what? you just—what—go to hell?”
he doesn’t answer.
he doesn’t have to.
you step back like he'd hit you.
“no.” you shake your head. “no, we’re not doing that.”
“we don’t have a choice.” he says quietly.
“yes we do.” your voice sharpens. desperate. “we find another way. we break the deal, we—”
“it doesn’t work like that.”
“then i’ll make one.”
“no. absolutely not.”
“why not?” you shoot back. “you did it.”
“exactly.” he steps closer, grabbing your arms. “and i know what it costs.”
“so do i!” your voice breaks. “you just told me!”
“then you know why i’m not letting you do it.”
you laugh, bitter. “you don’t get to ‘let’ me do anything, sam.”
his grip tightens. “i’m not losing you again.”
“you already are!” you cry. “in a year you’re gone, sam! how is that better?”
he doesn’t answer.
his eyes are wrecked. red. terrified.
“i’d trade places.” you whisper. “in a second. you know i would.”
“i know.” his voice is barely there. “that’s why i won’t let you.”
you stare at him.
this stubborn, self-sacrificing, moron.
“you think i can just live with that?” you ask. “knowing what you did? knowing what’s coming?”
“i don’t want you to.” he says. “i just want you to live.”
“without you?”
he closes his eyes.
“yeah.”
silence stretches between you. heavy. suffocating.
you shake your head slowly. “i hate this.”
“me too.”
“i hate you a little, too.” you admit, voice trembling.
he nods. “that’s fair.”
you swallow hard. “but i—”
your voice breaks.
he looks at you like he already knows.
“i know.” he says softly.
you step forward before you can stop yourself and crash into him, gripping his jacket like if you let go he’ll vanish.
he holds you just as tight.
like he’s already counting down.
like he’s trying to memorize this.
“we’re gonna fix this.” you whisper into his chest, even if you don’t know how. “i’m not letting you go to hell, sam. i’m not.”
he doesn’t argue.
he just buries his face in your hair and holds on.
holy moly chat, i did not expect all the love on my last post. i guess we have more dean girlies HAHA 😭 no but, jokes aside, thank you all sm. it really means alot especially since im just starting this page 🩷 im really trying my hardest to stay consistent and post atleast once a week (kinda slacking honestly mb) school’s really up my ass… i’ll try to have something up tomorrow! i have a few things up my sleeve
₊˚⊹♡ description : dean watches you flirt with someone else during a hunt—maybe to get info, maybe just to mess with him. He plays it cool… until he doesn’t. ₊˚⊹♡
it's nothing. at least, that’s what dean tells himself.
it’s just a case. just you doing what you always do—smiling a little too sweet, leaning in a little too close, laughing at things that aren’t even that funny. all to get information.
he’s seen you do it before. hell, he’s taught you how to do it.
so why does it feel different this time?
maybe it’s the guy. some bartender with a charming smile and a hand that lingers too long on your waist when he leans over the counter. maybe it’s the way you don’t pull away right away. maybe it’s the way you glance back at dean once—just once—like you know he’s watching.
he looks away first.
“so?” sam asks quietly beside him.
dean shrugs, jaw tight. “she’s working.”
“yeah,” sam says, like he’s not convinced. “looks like it.”
dean doesn’t answer. he just keeps staring at his beer, even though he hasn’t taken a sip in minutes.
across the bar, you laugh again. louder this time.
it doesn’t come up again. not in the car, not while you’re checking out the woods, not when you’re knee-deep in research back at the motel.
but it’s there. sitting between you and dean like something heavy.
and it finally snaps later that night.
you’re alone with him. sam’s out grabbing food.
dean’s pacing. again. like he’s got too much energy under his skin and nowhere to put it.
“you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” you say, not even looking up from your phone.
“maybe i will.”
you sigh, setting the phone down. “okay, what’s your problem?”
“i don’t have a problem.”
you let out a short laugh. “yeah, okay. and i’m not exhausted and covered in dirt right now.”
he stops pacing. looks at you.
“you done flirting with every guy we run into or what?”
there it is.
you blink, caught off guard for half a second. then your expression hardens. “are you serious right now?”
“what?” he shrugs, but it’s tight, defensive. “just saying. you were laying it on pretty thick back there.”
“i was working, dean.”
“yeah, looked like more than that.”
your jaw clenches. “you don’t get to say that.”
“why not?”
“because you do the exact same thing,” you shoot back, standing up now. “or are we forgetting every waitress, bartender, random woman we’ve ever met?”
“that’s different.”
“how?” your voice raises. “how is it different?”
he hesitates. just for a second. but it’s enough.
“because it just is,” he says, quieter now.
you let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “wow. that’s—wow, okay.”
you grab your jacket, like you need space, like you can’t stand there another second.
“where are you going?” he asks.
“out,” you snap. “somewhere i don’t have to deal with this.”
you make it to the door before he speaks again.
“it’s not like i’m wrong.”
that stops you.
slowly, you turn back around. “what is that supposed to mean?”
he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “i’m just saying—you didn’t have to flirt like that. you could’ve—i don’t know—handled it differently.”
“oh my god,” you breathe, stepping closer. “this isn’t about the case, is it?”
he doesn’t answer.
and suddenly, it clicks.
“…you’re jealous.”
he scoffs immediately. “i’m not jealous.”
“you are,” you say, quieter now, but more certain. “that’s what this is.”
“no, it’s not.”
“then what is it, dean?” you push. “because you’ve been acting like a jerk all night for no reason.”
his expression shifts—anger, frustration, something else underneath it.
“because i didn’t like it, okay?” he snaps.
you freeze.
“didn’t like what?”
“seeing him touch you like that. seeing you—” he cuts himself off, jaw clenching. “just… i didn’t like it.”
the room goes quiet.
your heartbeat is loud in your ears.
“why?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
he looks at you like he’s cornered. like there’s no good way out of this.
“i don’t know.”
“that’s not an answer.”
“it’s the only one i’ve got.”
you shake your head, stepping even closer now. “no. you don’t get to blow up at me and then hide behind ‘i don’t know.’ if you’re gonna act like this, at least be honest about it.”
he swallows hard.
looks at you.
really looks at you.
“…because it’s not supposed to be them,” he says finally.
your breath catches. “what?”
“it’s not supposed to be some random guy at a bar,” he continues, quieter now, like the words are being dragged out of him. “it’s—” he stops, frustrated, then tries again. “you’re not supposed to look at them like that.”
“i wasn’t—”
“i know,” he cuts in. “i know it’s part of the job. i know you didn’t mean anything by it. but i still—” he exhales sharply. “i still hated it.”
you stare at him, heart pounding.
“dean…”
he shakes his head, already backing off. “forget it. it’s stupid.”
“no,” you say quickly, grabbing his arm before he can move away. “don’t do that. don’t say all that and then just—shut down.”
he goes still under your touch.
“then what do you want me to say?” he asks, almost tired.
you hesitate.
“…the truth.”
he lets out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“you really wanna go there?”
“yeah,” you say. “i do.”
another pause.
and then—
“i don’t like seeing you with other people because i—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “because it feels wrong.”
“why does it feel wrong?”
his eyes flick up to yours.
and for a second, he looks terrified.
“because it should be me.”
the words hit harder than anything else.
your grip on his arm tightens slightly.
“…dean.”
“yeah,” he says, like he already regrets it. “so there you go. that’s why i was being a jerk. happy now?”
you don’t answer right away.
you just look at him.
“you’re an idiot,” you say finally.
he blinks. “what?”
“you’re jealous, you’re picking fights, you’re acting like i did something wrong—” you step closer, close enough that he has to tilt his head down to look at you. “—and all this time, you could’ve just said that.”
“said what?” he mutters.
you don’t look away.
“that you want me.”
he goes completely still.
“yeah,” he says softly. “i do.”
and suddenly the tension shifts. changes into something heavier.
your heart is racing.
“then stop acting like i belong to everyone else,” you whisper.
his breath hitches.
“i don’t think that,” he says.
“then prove it.”
there’s a beat.
and then he’s closing the distance.
it’s not gentle. not careful. it’s messy and a little desperate, like he’s been holding it back for too long and doesn’t know how to do it any other way.
sorry about the inactivity guys; i've been working on my last assignments for the semester holysmokes 🫠 lowk haven't had the time to write.
actually, that's a lie, i have had time, im jst burnt out and lazy rn. i've been sucked dry of every drop of creativity i had in my body.
that being said, i'll try to have someting short out tonight for the dean gals; not promising anything chat, i'll try my best. gonna reward myself after i finish my soci test.
₊˚⊹♡ description : dean dies. everything falls apart - including you and sam.
months later, you're finally moving on - or atleast trying to - until sam shows up at your door in the middle of the night with something you never expected to hear. ₊˚⊹♡
✦ warnings , maybe?✦
toxic relationship dynamics, angst?, grief & unhealthy coping, yelling / arguments, brief physical altercations (reader hitting sam), breakup + reconciliation, suggestive content, make-up sex (18+ pls, or not, i was reading worse at 13)
the motel room smelled like stale beer and something metallic. you hated it. you hated that it reminded you of him.
dean.
you swallowed thickly, standing by the small kitchenette, arms crossed tight over your chest as if that would keep everything from spilling out. sam was pacing again—back and forth, back and forth, like if he stopped moving, he’d fall apart. maybe he already had.
“sam,” you said quietly.
he didn’t answer.
didn’t even look at you.
your jaw tightened. “sam.”
“not now, y/n.” his voice was cold. distant.
it felt wrong. so wrong.
this wasn’t sam.
this wasn’t the man who used to trace lazy circles on your skin at night, whispering dumb facts just to make you laugh. this wasn’t the man who held you like you were something fragile and sacred.
this was someone else.
someone you didn’t recognize.
“it’s been days,” you pressed, stepping closer. “you haven’t slept. you haven’t eaten—”
“i’m fine.”
“you’re not fine!”
he stopped pacing then, finally turning to look at you—and god, that hurt more than anything.
his eyes were hollow. empty. like whatever made sam… sam… had been ripped out of him.
“i said i’m fine,” he snapped.
you flinched.
not because he yelled—you’d both yelled before—but because there was nothing behind it. no emotion. no warmth. just… anger.
and grief.
buried so deep it was rotting him from the inside out.
“you don’t have to do this alone,” you said softer now. “we lost him too, sam. bobby—me—”
“you didn’t lose him like i did.”
the words hit you like a slap.
you stared at him. “excuse me?”
he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “you don’t get it.”
“then make me get it!” your voice cracked. “talk to me, sam!”
he shook his head, already turning away. “there’s nothing to talk about.”
abandoned warehouse. vampire nest. in and out. except sam was reckless. too reckless.
he went in before you.
ignored the plan. ignored you.
and when it was over—blood smeared across his face, chest heaving—you lost it.
“what the hell is wrong with you?!”
he didn’t even look at you as he wiped his knife clean. “we got the job done.”
“that’s not the point!”
“it is the point.”
“no, it’s not!” you stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “you could’ve died in there!”
he shrugged.
shrugged.
like his life meant nothing.
like you meant nothing.
rage flooded your veins so fast it made you dizzy.
“say something!” you shouted, shoving his shoulder. “say something real for once, sam!”
he grabbed your wrist, not hard—but firm enough to stop you.
“let go of me.”
he didn’t.
“sam.”
his grip tightened.
and that was it.
you snapped.
your other hand came up, hitting his chest—once, twice—frustrated, angry, desperate.
“talk to me!” you yelled, voice breaking. “why are you like this?! why won’t you let me in?!”
he finally exploded.
“because you wouldn’t understand!”
“try me!”
“you can’t bring him back!”
the words hung in the air.
your heart dropped.
“what…?”
he ripped his hand away from you, pacing again. “there’s a way. there has to be. i just—i need more time—”
“sam,” you whispered, horrified. “no.”
“don’t,” he warned.
“you’re going down the same path—”
“don’t.”
“this isn’t going to end well and you know it!”
he turned on you then, eyes blazing.
“at least i’m doing something!”
that did it.
“oh, so what—i’m just sitting around doing nothing?” you scoffed. “i’m grieving, sam! like a normal person!”
“normal?” he laughed bitterly. “since when are we normal, y/n?”
“since when do we throw ourselves into hell chasing something we can’t fix?!”
“i can fix this!”
“you can’t bring dean back!”
silence.
heavy.
his expression hardened.
and then he said it.
quiet. cruel.
“maybe if you actually cared about him as much as you pretend to, you’d understand.”
it felt like the ground disappeared beneath you.
your breath hitched. eyes watered.
“…what did you just say?”
he didn’t backtrack.
didn’t apologize.
just stood there.
and that hurt more than anything.
your hand moved before you could stop it.
smack!
the sound echoed in the empty warehouse.
his head snapped to the side.
you were shaking.
“fuck you, sam.”
your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut deeper than any scream.
you yanked your bag off the floor, slinging it over your shoulder. he still hadn’t looked at you.
hadn’t said anything.
“you don’t get to say that to me,” you choked out. “not after everything. i watched him die too, you know! i know you lost your brother," you inhaled, trying to steady yourself, "but i also lost my best friend."
you turned to leave.
but paused.
just for a second.
looking back at him.
hoping—stupidly—that he’d stop you.
he didn’t.
your fingers curled around the necklace resting against your chest.
the one he gave you for your two year anniversary.
you sat on the couch, legs tucked under you, watching some old movie you weren’t really paying attention to.
bobby walked in, tossing his keys onto the table. “hunt went smooth.”
“yeah,” you nodded. “easy.”
he grunted.
silence stretched between you.
comfortable.
familiar.
until—
“…how’s sam?”
the words slipped out before you could stop them.
bobby paused.
just slightly.
you noticed.
your stomach twisted.
bobby's kept in touch with sam, tried to atleast. he never spoke about you to him, that's what he says. been on a few hunts together. you know that. bobby never spoke about him, knew you wanted nothing to do with him ever since...
truth is, you never stopped thinking about him. you were angry, yes, but you could never hate him, never that. you missed him. you hated how things ended between you.
“he’s… alright,” he said finally. “bit off still.”
you nodded slowly, staring at your hands. “yeah.”
“miss him?”
you let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “does it matter?”
“matters to you.”
you swallowed. “i shouldn’t.”
bobby didn’t say anything.
you sighed, leaning back against the couch. “i hate it, you know? i’ll be fine all day and then—” you shook your head. “i reach for my phone. or i think i hear his voice. or i—” your voice cracked. “i forget he’s not there anymore.”
you'd found a place in nebraska 'bout two hours from sioux falls, still close to bobby's just in case, but far enough from wherever sam was.
you dropped your bag, your phone, everything—too tired to care.
you made yourself some food even though it was late.
routine.
normalcy.
something to hold onto.
the shower helped. a little.
you stepped out, towel wrapped around you, rummaging through your dresser, looking for tonight's sleep shirt.
then you saw it.
one of sam's shirts you'd forgotten you still had.
you froze. when did you even pack this?
“…god.”
you picked it up slowly.
brought it to your face.
you swear it still smelled like him.
your eyes burned.
stupid purple dog.
“get over it, y/n,” you muttered harshly, tossing it into the bin like it'd offended you.
you got dressed.
ate.
sat on the couch.
movie playing.
halfway through—
knock knock
you frowned.
must be the wind. probably nothing. ignored it.
then again.
a bit louder.
your body tensed.
you grabbed your gun from under the coffee table, keeping it close, moving toward the door carefully.
“it’s me, y/n… don’t shoot please.”
your breath caught.
“…sam?”
silence.
your heart pounded.
“please… can we talk?” his voice was soft, pleading, not like the last time he spoke to you.
you hesitated.
everything in you screamed not to.
but your hand moved anyway.
the door cracked open. just slightly.
and there he was.
he looked… different.
tired.
softer.
“hi—”
“how the hell did you find—”
“bobby.”
you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “of course.” "it's past midnight, sam, what are you doing here?"
“can i come in?”
"why would you ever think i'd let you in." came off more as a statement than a question.
you stared at him. he was looking at you with sad, pleading eyes. he wasn't fighting. not again.
you gave in, sighed, stepping aside.
“yeah. whatever.”
god damn him.
he walked in slowly, glancing around. “nice place.”
you didn’t respond.
“what do you want?” you leaned against the door.
he turned to you.
really looked at you.
“god, y/n… i’m so sorry—”
“cut the bullshit, sam.”
his face fell.
“if that’s why you’re here, you can leave.” you hated this, hated talking to him like this, you knew he treated you wrongly, but you weren't in the right either.
he nodded slowly.
“…dean’s back.”
everything stopped.
“…what?”
your legs gave out.
he's by you instantly, steading you.
you look up at him.
your head spun. “sam—what?”
“i’ll explain. just—let's sit, okay?” this was the sam you remembered. soft, caring sam. the one you missed so, so bad.
you nodded numbly.
he told you everything.
and you listened. really listened.
and somehow…you believed him.
"...we couldn't believe it at first, i mean," he scoffed, "we tested him for everything, holy water, silver...he's just...back"
"and you had nothing to do with this?" you genuinely ask him.
he shook his head, "no. no, i—i thought maybe you—i don't know..."
you sighed loudly and shook your head, "so you knew, bobby knew," you scoffed, "all this time." you couldn't believe bobby had kept this from you. you knew he probably did it to keep your emotions regulated. he knew you couldn't handle the news, not with you and sam haven broken up not long ago.
you shook it off, looked at him, "are you hungry?"
he gave you a small smile. “smells amazing, y/n, thank you.”
you sat beside him.
watching.
you sigh, mustering the courage to ask him,
"does he know?"
he swallows his bite, looking at you now. "what?"
"does dean know about...you know," you point between the two of you, not being able to get the words out.
"oh...he never really asked," he turned back to the plate, "i didn't—i guess bobby told him about it.."
you nodded, understanding.
“how’ve you been?” you asked quietly.
he swallowed. “better. y’know… now with dean…”
his voice broke.
“sam?”
he looked away, inhaling shakily before turning back to you—eyes glassy.
“i’m so sorry,” he said. “god...for everything. i don’t know why i—i just… i couldn’t think straight. you didn’t deserve any of it.”
your throat tightened.
“i missed you,” he whispered. “every day. i couldn’t stop thinking about you. i still can’t.”
tears blurred your vision.
“i hate myself for what i said to you. for what i did.”
“sammy…”
“i love you,” he said, voice cracking. “i never stopped. and i don’t expect you to forgive me, i just—i needed to see you. make sure you were okay.”
you let out a shaky laugh. “did you threaten bobby?”
he huffed a small laugh. “maybe a little.”
you both laughed.
"so you drove all this way...god, sammy…” he softened at the nickname you used to call him, how he missed it coming from you. you wiped your eyes. “i missed you.. so much. i still look for you. it’s stupid.”
“it’s not.”
“i was so mad at you.”
“you had every right to be.”
“i still love you,” you whispered.
silence.
heavy.
but this time—not painful.
his hand moved to your face, hesitant. you leaned into it.
“i love you.”
that was all it took.
you kissed him.
hard.
desperate.
like you were trying to make up for months of lost time.
he melted into you, sighing relief, one hand cradling your face, the other pulling you off your chair, guiding you onto his lap, resting on your hip.
you clung to him. arms wrapped around his neck, fingers in his hair.
his name on your lips.
everything you felt—anger, love, grief—it poured into that kiss.
until you were both breathless. you break apart, lips slick and pink, saliva still connecting you two.
foreheads pressed together.
“sammy…”
“i know, baby… i know.”
you stayed like that, catching your breath's, breathing each other in.
you kissed him again, softly, "please.." your hands dropped to his shoulders, resting there. he knew what you wanted.
"i don't know y/n..." he brought his hands up on top of yours.
"c'mon sammy, please," your voice was low, "i know you need it just as much.."
"god sweetheart, you're gonna kill me." he was resting his face next to yours now. you took the opportunity and started trailing kissing on his side.
"need you so bad, sammy," kiss "you're all i've ever thought about," kiss "when i'd touch myself at nights," kiss "every time." you kept at his neck 'till you felt him snarl and turn to grab your face. he kissed you, harder now. all teeth and tongue. he's riled up; you can feel him straining against you, and it's not helping your lil problem down there.
you're both getting more desperate, pawing at each other, before you pull away and tug at his shirt. he gets the memo and pulls it off in one go. you pause and take him in for a bit. he's so pretty. scars, moles, and all. he notices you staring and laughs, causing his stomach to flex. you fix your gaze back on his face, "sorry..". he smiles at you and brings you closer, kissing you slowly this time, settling his hands under the hem of your shirt. he squeezed at you, asking for permission. always the gentleman. you nod before breaking apart, letting him slide it off. you had nothing underneath, considering you were about to head to sleep...before this happened.
"you're so beautiful, god," he kisses your sternum, "i missed this," he starts leaving a trail a trail of wet kisses up to your neck, "missed you, so much" he kisses your lips now.
"hallway...down the left" you whisper into his lips. "are you sure?"
you don't respond, just pressed into him and kissed him harder. he takes that as a yes.
he grabs onto you and stands up from the bar stool, wrapping your legs around him. never breaking apart, he finds his way into your room, kicking your door closed, before settling you down on the sheets.
he keeps one arm on the bed, keeping him hovered over you. you can still feel how warm he is. it's radiating off him. it'd been so long. too long.
you tried using your arm to knock his off balance, he didn't budge. you wanted him close, needed him closer. he noticed your defeat and complied, dropping down onto you, still keeping some weight off using his elbows. you smiled into the kiss.
you stay like that for awhile, making out, lips already sore and swollen, begging for a break. you're already starting to ache for him.
you pull away, his lips chasing yours.
"sam..." your voice comes out breathier than you mean it to.
he looks you in the eyes, taking in your state.
"yeah...yeah okay," he kisses you once more before trailing down your bare body, stopping at the waistband of your sleeping shorts, hooking his fingers around it. "can i?"
"god, sam yes please—" you curse him for making you wait so long.
he chuckles before finally pulling them down along with your panties, tossing them somewhere on the floor. you'll worry about that later.
you're soaking already, you can feel. part of you gets a little embarrassed, so you go to close your legs. sam wasn't having it, stopping you before you could, opening you back up to him.
"let me make it up to you baby," you could feel his warm breath fanning on you before he pressed his tongue flat against your slick core, suckling on your clit. you gasped, throwing your head back against the pillows, "fuck! ohmygod!". he kept at you like a man starved, his name spilling from your lips. you could feel yourself getting closer. that knot in your stomach begging to release.
"sam wait," you tried pushing him off you to no use. "sam stop, stop please!", you gripped onto his hair, pulling him a bit harsher. he groaned, finally budging, his lower face spit slicked and covered in your arousal. he looked up at you, breathless, confused as to why you stopped him.
"need you. right now, sammy." you were practically begging. you sat up towards him and pushed him back towards the end of the bed. you crawled up him, settling on his thighs before pulling his jeans and boxers down, tossing them aside. his flushed, leaking cock finally free. god, you could never get used to him. you bent down and took him in your warm mouth, his low moans filling the room. pumping him a few times, letting your spit run down him, before pulling away to straddle him, pussy hovering above his aching cock.
you reached down between you, aligning him with your entrance. you ran his tip between your folds, slicking him with your wetness before slowly sinking down on him, staring at each other, mouths agape, his grunts and your gasps echoing in the room. you finally bottomed out, ass sitting above his thighs, hands coming to rest on his chest.
"you alright?" sam asks, thumbs running up and down your waist.
all you could do was hum in response. you stayed like that until you adjusted. you started to ride him slowly, then picking up your pace, hips rolling and grinding into him, slick smearing between your bodies. obscene noises coming from the two of you.
sam was always pretty vocal, he knew you enjoyed it.
he brought his hand down to your core, thumb circling your clit. he couldn't take his gaze off where your bodies connected. "atta' girl, y/n...hmf ah—just like you used to..." that elicited a loud whine from your lips. your legs were getting tired, he could tell.
in a swift movement, sam sat up towards you, and flipped you so you were now the one laying on your back, never pulling apart. he had you caged, now thrusting into you, deep, hard. never painful, sam was always careful when it came to you, made sure you were always getting pleased.
your eyes started to water, not cause of pain, but because of all the emotions (and pleasure ). you were angry...you missed him so much, now he's here, making you feel good. and dean; you finally have your best friend back...probably not a good time to think about dean...
he wiped the tears falling down your face and kissed you lovingly, all while keeping his pace steady. you wrapped your legs around his waist, "im close, sammy.." you breathed. he picked up his pace, his pumping slowly starting to get sloppy. he was getting close too. he reached his hand between you, onto your core, circling his thumb on your clit again. the added pleasure had you seeing stars in seconds. your orgasm came in hot, tried stifling your moans to no avail. sam followed up not long after, thrusting a few more times and stuffing you to the hilt. biting your shoulder to quiet his moans, his warm cum pumping you full.
he fell on top of you, still inside, breathing heavily, eyes closed. you brought your arms around him, running your nails up and down his back. you both stayed like that until you came down from your highs.
he stood from you gently, pulling out with a hiss, making you squirm from the loss. you could feel your mixed climaxes dripping from you.
he stood, grabbing his boxers and pulling them back up, and made his way to your bathroom. he came back with a warm towel to clean you up.
he made his way back into your bed, pulling you onto his chest, holding you tightly. "was that okay?" he whispered into your hair.
"sam, that was even better than the times we were together." you meant for it to come as a joke. you felt him still. you turned to look up at him, "im sorry, i didn't—i didn't mean it like that.."
"no, it's alright i," he sighed before sitting up and reaching over the side of the bed, grabbing his jeans. you stared at him curiously. you saw him pull something shiny from the front pocket before tossing them back down. it was the necklace he'd given you; the one you broke that night.
"i couldn't throw it away...felt like i'd be losing you, for real."
"you kept that this whole time?"
he nodded, "i got it fixed at a pawn shop," he held it up by the clasp, "good as new."
all you could do was smile up at him. you sat up and kissed him deeply.
"can we try again...?" sam asked sheepishly.
you took the necklace from his hand and clasped it back around your neck, back where it belonged. you kissed him again and pulled him down with you. he got his answer.
you woke up before sam, tangled in each other and the sheets. you made your way out of his grip carefully to not wake him.
you walked to your dresser for a fresh set of clothes before seeing that shirt of his you threw in the trash. you looked back at him, sleeping peacefully on your bed before bending down and taking it out, throwing it along with your laundry.
you made your way to the living room, picking up the dishes from last night when you saw your phone on top of your duffle you threw on the floor last night. you'd forgotten about that.
you picked it up and opened it to see missed calls and messages from bobby.
8 Missed Calls from Bobby!
Bobby!
1:25am: Y/n, pick up!
1:28am: It's Sam, he's headed your way.
1:28am: I'm sorry kid, I wish I'd told you sooner.
1:30am: Just hear the boy out, okay?
1:34am: Please don't kill each other.
2:41am: Y/n, is everything okay? Sam's not answering.
author's note: there you have it you horny fucks. tbh i'd already started writing this before the poll was even posted LMAO what can i say, i know the audience.
this is my first smut posted on here, lowk kinda scary.
before anyone says, yes i took dean’s first death and sam’s maniac episode after his death in mystery spot (the one of many lol) i know my timelines people.
guys i wanna write a lil filler drabble before i post part II of time loop lol. i have a few ideas in mind but i need help choosing. ill narrow it down to two actually:
help me choose
sam x reader - messy break up, nasty make up iykyk 🥴
guys i wanna write a lil filler drabble before i post part II of time loop lol. i have a few ideas in mind but i need help choosing. ill narrow it down to two actually:
help me choose
sam x reader - messy break up, nasty make up iykyk 🥴
that's the first think you notice - no traffic, no people lingering outside, just wind wooshing through the empty streets like the place has been abandoned and no one bothered to tell.
dean mutters something about it being "creepy as hell," parking the impala outside a run-down motel with flickering neons.
sam, beside you in the backseat, is already halfway gone - laptop open, brows furrowed, deep in research.
"disappearances go back almost a year," he says, scrolling. "all within a five-mile radius. no bodies."
"awesome," dean says. "love that for us"
you lean forward between the seats. "any pattern?"
sam shakes his head, frustrated. “that’s the thing. no clear victim profile, no patterns. it’s like they just… vanish.”
you hum, uneasy, and sit back again.
for a second - just a second - you swear the motel sign flickers in a pattern.
you and sam take the library while dean checks out the last known disappearance site.
it’s quiet between you - not uncomfortable, never that.
you’ve been hunting with them long enough to know sam’s mannerisms.
the way he leans forward when something clicks in his head.
the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s stuck.
the way he glances at you sometimes, like he’s about to say something - and then doesn’t.
“hey,” you say softly, sliding a book toward him. “look at this.”
his fingers brush yours when he takes it.
it’s quick. Barely anything.
but neither of you pulls away immediately.
sam clears his throat first, eyes dropping to the page. “yeah - uh - thanks.”
you nod, pretending you don’t feel it.
pretending your heart didn’t just trip over itself.
his hand lingering a second too long.
his eyes finding yours in a crowded room without thinking.
the way he says your name like it means something more than it should.
author's note: hello chat. i wanted to apologize for my previous post lol, i'll make up for it with this short series i've been working on. i'm thinking of splitting it into three parts...lmk what you guys think!
if you wanna be reminded for the next part lmk! and i'll be sure to tag you!
anyways, i hope you enjoyed part one! see you soon.
btw this isn't proofread... so if there's anything outta place, no it's not.
