#cajunsuper600challenge

[writethelifeyouwant]

The Levee Broke

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Casitel

Created for: @cajunquandary / @spnkinkbingo / @anyfandomgoesbingo

Challenge Prompt: When the Levee Breaks - Led Zeppelin & ‘First Encounter’ (both prompts in bold in the fic) 

Bingo Square Filled: @spnkinkbingo - Impala Sex | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Car Sex 

Rating: 18+ 

Tags: pining!Cas, first times are awkward, making out, car sex

Word Count: 2k 

A/N: The idea came from the wonderful @cajunquandary ‘s challenge. Congrats again on the 600 darling! Loved all the different prompts you had 💛 This is the first time I’ve written Destiel but I know it’s one of your faves so I hope you like it! (Also unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own) 

Dividers: @firefly-graphics 😘

Ao3 Link

Cas doesn’t spend a lot of time in cars these days. Since his wings got fixed up, he hasn’t needed to wander the slow path as a weary traveller, preferring to use his time more efficiently by appearing wherever he needed to be. But if Dean ever asks him to ride along, he still says yes, no hesitation. 

Dean was heading North to meet up with Sam, on his way back from a hunt out West, and when he ran into Cas in the bunker on his way to the garage he’d asked if he wanted to tag along – ‘get some fresh air’ – he’d said. So, here Cas was on the passenger side of the black leather bench seat, watching the atoms of the Earth fly by his window. 

“There a parade I’m missing?” Dean grunted, flicking to a new radio station when their current pick started to grow too static-y to be tolerable. 

“There’s a flock of geese being followed by a flock of smaller birds flying south,” Cas observed sagely, a pleasant smile on his face. “You might think they’re using the geese for directions, but actually all birds are instinctually programmed to fly in a southern trajectory at this time of year.” 

“Hm,” Dean hummed, seeming only begrudgingly interested. 

“Though,” Cas’ voice cut short as a new train of thought beckoned him along, “if we were in the Southern Hemisphere, the birds would have an instinct to fly north. So I suppose, it’s not so much the cardinal direction they’re flying in, just that they know where they need to fly to.” 

“Yeah,” Dean huffed, flicking the radio again and again, dissatisfied with the selection that was coming up, “where’s that, Cas?” 

“Home.” Cas answered without elaboration, and returned to smiling at the geese, leaving Dean to watch the back of his head with a blank expression. 

Cas didn’t need to sleep, but Dean did; and when Sam called to say he’d stopped at Jody’s to crash for the night, Dean and Cas weren’t anywhere near Sioux Falls. 

“Yeah, okay,” Cas heard Dean say down the phone. “Yeah, we’ll catch you tomorrow around –” Dean glanced at Cas to catch his eye. Cas gave a quick silent nod, knowing what Dean was asking, and knowing Dean would understand his answer. “Hey, if Claire’s there, tell her Cas says hi.” Dean nodded again listening to Sam. “Yeah, okay, see you in the mañana.” 

“How is Sam?” Cas questioned his companion. 

“Peachy,” Dean scoffed. 

“Will we be stopping for the night as well?

“Yeah eventually,” Dean shrugged and fought back a yawn that Cas didn’t miss. “I got a few more miles in me.” Dean changed the radio dial again. “God, radio in the Midwest sucks ass.” 

“If you’d prefer, I have...” Cas trailed off and started to grope in the pockets of his trench coat. 

“You about to flash me or something, Cas?” Dean side-eyed him. Cas pulled a dingy white cassette tape with a peeling label from one of his pockets. 

“I have this,” Cas held out the tape in offering. It was the mixtape Dean had given him of his ‘Top 13 Zepp Trax’. He saw Dean’s eyes widen in the flash of headlights passing them on the country highway. “To be clear,” Cas closed his hand around the tape, recoiling, “I am not giving it back to you, I am just offering an alternative to the radio for the rest of the drive.” 

Dean nodded speechlessly, something behind his eyes that Cas was familiar seeing but that he could never really identify. His fingers dragged along Cas’ palm when they retrieved the cassette, drawing unnecessarily across the whole length of his hand. Cas felt the familiar heat flood from his fingers up his arm and to his chest, wrapping his heart in glowing bands that constricted more and more tightly every time Dean touched him like this – mindlessly, casually, devoid of meaning. 

Dean put the tape in and turned up the volume on the opening chords of Good Times, Bad Times. Cas was surprised to see his hand drop to the cushion of the seat between them, rather than return to the wheel. He stared at the offending fingers as if the burn they had given him was physical and not metaphorical, as if his body, and not just his heart, was on fire. 

Cas pulled at his tie enough to undo his top button, and he noticed Dean glancing at him before flicking his eyes back to the road. Curiosity stirred, as Dean so frequently stirs it, he fumbled in his mind for something else to do that might give him another reaction of Dean’s to analyse. He started to tug his trench coat off his shoulders, it had been feeling uncomfortably warm since Dean had touched his hand anyhow and he’s pleased when Dean immediately registers his movement and turns towards him questioningly. 

“When’s the last time you took that thing off?” Dean asked incredulously, now watching Cas rather than the road, only sparing the necessary glances to the highway in order to keep them in their lane. Cas catalogued the response, noting positively that his removing an item of clothing had more or less gained Dean’s undivided attention. 

“I was beginning to feel warm,” Cas stated simply, not answering Dean’s question. 

Pulling out of one sleeve and then the next, Cas realized he hadn’t thought beyond this point and now didn’t know what to do with his coat. In his internal scramble, his hands unconsciously balled up the khaki cotton and set it in the space between Dean and himself, forgetting that Dean’s hand already occupied that space. 

When Cas’ hand landed on Dean’s they both blanched as if they’d been shocked, and their eyes locked in trepidation over the expanse of black leather and beige cloth between them. The opening notes of Stairway to Heaven bled through the Impala’s speakers and sank into the air, its tension thickening with each passing measure. Cas carefully set his hand atop his coat, noticeably and intentionally encroaching on Dean’s space. Dean’s hands were back on the wheel. 

“Did you put this song on the tape with the intention of mocking me?” Cas asked Dean flatly, hoping his sarcasm was readable. Dean flashed him a confused look, spared another glance at Cas’ hand between them on the seat, then focused back on the road. 

“I uh, I wasn’t trying to poke fun at you, man,” Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I mean, I didn’t actually uh, make, the tape for you, it was one of my old ones.”

“So, you don’t consider me a good enough friend to make a mixed tape for?” Cas kept his voice even but had to fight to keep his lips from twitching in a smirk. 

“What, no!” Dean looked at Cas, offended, but then back tracked realising his words could get mis-interpreted. “No, I mean, you’re my best friend Cas, of course I would make you a tape I just - I gave you this one because it was one of my favourites. That’s why I thought you’d like it, I mean…” Dean swallowed awkwardly, looking back at Cas, likely checking he was getting through. 

“So, you thought I would be interested in learning about your favourite things?” Cas prodded. 

“Yes,” Dean nodded, eyes now very firmly back on the highway, and not on his best friend. 

“Because you imagine I would like to know everything about you,” Cas fought to keep from smiling, “because you’re so interesting.”

“Yes - no! No that’s not what I -” 

“So, it’s because you want me to know what you like so I can be a better friend?” 

“What? No, Cas, that’s not-” Dean broke off when he looked at Cas and saw the wide smile he was sporting. “What?” 

“I believe you humans call it a ‘joke’, Dean.” Cas tried to keep his voice emotionless, but his amusement was bubbling through. 

“You winged dick,” Dean punched him on the arm and dropped his hand into the space between them, settled on top of Cas’ coat and right next to Cas’ own hand. Cas smiled triumphantly to himself. 

“Sam said I needed to practice my sarcasm.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean huffed and knocked Cas’ arm again, “you suck, man.” 

“Thank you.” Cas grinned brightly at Dean and earned a crinkled smile back that reached Dean’s eyes in a way Cas very rarely saw these days. 

Stairway to Heaven faded into a few moments of static, and Dean held Cas’ gaze in the silence, not needing to look at the straight abandoned road in front of them to keep the Impala on course. Rhythmic drums started up, echoing through the bass speakers and propelling vibrations through the seats and into each of their bodies. The wavering, wild west notes of When the Levee Breaks rang out, and Dean reached forward to turn the volume up. When his hand returned to the space between him and Cas, their fingers were closer than they’d been a moment ago. Dean’s gaze was back to being fixed firmly forward. 

Cas copied him, staring forward, and sinking into the music and stealing himself. He took his chance when the Impala sped over a pothole and knocked his fingers against Dean’s. Dean didn’t move, gaze still focused ahead. Cas hooked the tip of his little finger under Dean’s. Dean didn’t stop him. 

Going down, going down now, 

Going down, going down down down down down….

“Dean.” Cas stared ahead, but he could see Dean swallow thickly in his periphery. “Pull over.” 

Cas is an immortal being, an incalculable number of years old, and he can remember every one of those years. But his life since he found Dean Winchester has been a blur, and the contents of the past few minutes escaped his memory entirely. All he knew is that the levee had broken, and now Dean was shirtless and on top of him in the front seat of the Impala, and all he cared about was making sure Dean never stopped kissing him. 

The burning feeling that had grown at home in his chest had erupted through his whole body, and the places Dean trailed his fingers left Cas scorching. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found Dean’s handprint burned into his flesh tomorrow. 

“Cas,” Dean moaned his name, and Cas felt his hands on his belt. Cas shoved himself out of his suit trousers under Dean and watched intently as Dean’s hands went to his own belt. The buckle clattered against the dashboard as Dean tugged at it violently and wriggled out of his jeans, less than gracefully. 

Cas reached out and pulled Dean back to him, tangling their legs in an effort to feel every new inch of Dean at once. He trailed his hands down his arms, his back, his waist, hesitated over the curve of flesh that had teased him for so long, but then dragged his palms over the soft round of Dean’s ass and groaned, not believing how much better this felt than imagining it. 

Dean echoed Cas, groaning into his mouth as Cas’ lip was sucked into his mouth and worried between his teeth. Cas shuddered and jerked his body into Dean’s involuntarily, dragging their cocks against one another. 

“Fuck,” Dean whispered. 

“I thought we were,” Cas deadpanned, testing his sarcasm to its limit. It was hard to maintain composure when Dean Winchester was mostly naked and grinding into you. 

“Not quite yet sunshine,” Dean grinned before his face fell, only slightly. “This, I mean, it’s your first time, right?” Dean’s nerves were suddenly tangible in the cramped space of the front of his car. 

“This is my first encounter with another male’s genitalia, yes,” Cas confirmed, hoping to ease Dean’s worry; they would both be new to this. What he got was Dean bursting into laughter. 

“Jesus, Cas, just call it a cock, okay?” Dean pressed kisses against Cas’ neck, still laughing. 

“Fine,” Cas grunted and pulled Dean up for a bruising kiss. “Then, would you please put your cock in my ass?” Cas spoke the words into Dean’s lips. Dean nodded, dumbstruck, but Cas could see the arousal he had stirred in Dean’s eyes. 

“Good.” 

Tags: @cajunquandary @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @akshi8278 @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach​ 

[mercurialkitty]

Supernatural 600 Follower Challenge - Lyric prompt

A wee drabble/ficlet for @cajunquandary

Prompt: Weep not for roads untraveled/ Weep not for sights unseen/ May your love never end and if you need a friend,/ There’s a seat here alongside me

Dean looks at Cas. His back is broad, his shoulders are strong, and his biceps are sculpted. He has crinkles around his eyes, and sometimes he looks tired. One day, maybe soon, his hair will start to turn grey. That body has been put together and reassembled. He was no more than ash, and now he’s living and breathing and completely human. And he’s lying next to Dean.

Even through being remade, he somehow remained Cas. That body stopped being Jimmy’s a long time ago. But it also stopped being a vessel. It became simply his.

There’s a part of Dean that still hasn’t let go of what ifs. What if he’d kissed him in the middle of purgatory? What if when Cas had lost his grace, he’d held him close, and comforted him stroking his hair? There are too many moment to count. There are so many times he didn’t get to see expressions of surprise or love or delight. Cas stirs and rolls over onto his back and looks at him. “Hello husband,” he says. “What are you thinking about?” “I wasted a lot of time, Cas.” “You loved me before, even if you didn’t allow yourself to express that love. Isn’t that true?” “Yes.” “You were my friend, weren’t you?” “Yes.” You love me now and you’ll love me tomorrow. Didn’t we just make some vows about that? “Yes.” “The time we spent loving each other, whether as friends or as husbands, will never be a waste. Dean we have the rest of our lives, and then we’ll find out how long human souls remain in the universe. We’ll do that together.” Dean looks deep into Cas’ eyes, pulls himself across Cas and lays his head on his shoulder, hand above his heart. He says, “Ok.” Cas just holds him close.

[mercurialkitty]

Supernatural 600 Follower Challenge - Game Night

for @cajunquandary

Read on AO3 - MIND THE TAGS

Summary: Dean and Cas anticipate a fluffy morning in Heaven, preparing for a big Game Night with friends. Unfortunately, having a Game Night for friends in Heaven proves more disruptive than anticipated. Mary worries how her earthly death affected Dean and his relationship with Jack.

This version of Heaven is the opportunity to be with the people you love, and take eternity to make amends and heal relationships. Therefore there is some painful emotional growth along the way.

In other words, this is something of a finale fix-it (maybe post-finale is a better term) but there is angst dealing with the emotional consequences of episode 14.17 Game Night.

Tags and Warnings: destiel, Dean and Cas married in heaven, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, It’s all Chuck’s fault, Fluff and Angst (emotional baggage), the F-bomb, If you hate a finale fix-it that leaves the characters in heaven, this is not for you. If you hate a finale fix-it that leaves Cas an angel, this is not for you. 

Game Night

They don’t exactly sleep in heaven. It’s more like closing your eyes, letting it be dark, and feeling time swirl around you. Not sleep exactly, but refreshing to the soul, and a good excuse for stretching in bed and enjoying the sensation of a new day. Dean rolls over and feels Cas’ wings blanket him a little tighter.

“Your wings are nice, Cas.”

“You say that almost every morning.”

“When don’t I say it?”

Cas gives him a smile and raises an eyebrow. “When you do something other than talk first.”

Dean smiles back and is about to pull Cas in for a kiss when Miracle starts barking. They both sit up. Then there’s a knock at the door.

“That’s unusual,” says Cas and he stands and does the thing where he’s automatically dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with his wings unseen.

Dean groans, “That has to be Sammy. No one else would cock block me in heaven.”

Cas goes to get the door. Dean grabs clothes, but doesn’t rush to throw them on. He figures that whoever is out there can wait. It’s heaven dammit. He hears Cas say, “Hello Mary,” and pauses. No other hello is forthcoming from Cas, so he finishes getting ready.

When he joins them, he sees Mary on the couch with Miracle in her lap and Cas in the kitchen getting a pot of coffee going. He goes to sit next to her and give Miracle a pat. “Hey mom. I know we’re all still getting used to time in Heaven, but aren’t you here a bit early for our Game Night?”

Mary smiles, “I thought we might need to talk before.”

Dean gets a strange feeling of dread that he didn’t think would happen in heaven. “Sounds like we’ll need breakfast then.”

Mary relocates to the bar stools, with Miracle getting underfoot in the kitchen while Cas grates cheese and potatoes, and Dean gets the griddle ready. Zeppelin plays softly, and Mary pours out coffee. Once Dean has the hash browns about to come off, and the eggs on, he asks, “So how’s Dad?”Cas tenses slightly, but doesn’t say anything.

Mary stirs her coffee a little longer than necessary and answers. “John’s with Bobby, Rufus, and Bill Harvelle on a fishing trip.”

“Sounds fun,” says Dean mildly.

Mary shrugs indicting that it might not be all that fun. “It’s good to see him work on relationships. It’s been a very long time. He’s got a lot of people to try to make up with.”

Dean nods. Since he’s had time and freedom from Chuck’s influence to think over the past, he’s not open to any visits from Dad. Cas asks about Ellen and Jo. Mary goes along with the conversation change, so that means John was not intended to be the main topic. Dean finishes up the eggs and plates the food, a little less on edge, but still wary.

They all shift to the kitchen table. During breakfast they chit chat over what gets called Heaven Gossip, but is really just gossip. Dean smiles over what Cas omits as much as what he shares. It takes away a bit more of his uneasiness. Cas and Mary can really go to town on gossip, and it’s hilarious.

The funniest bits are usually people running into doppelgänger’s.  Jimmy has taken to wearing a NOT CAS t-shirt when he runs in shared heavenly spaces. Huntercorp Dean is making his safe, sane, and consensual way through heaven’s non-soulmated population. The Bobbies aren’t close, but the Charlies consider themselves siblings, and both are coming tonight.

Cas is most knowledgeable on angel gossip. Given the civil wars and multiple factions, only a dozen or so of the angels back from The Empty are restored to full powers and freedom in Heaven. All angels have their wings back, but most are limited to shared areas of heaven and the throne room during their Growing Period, as Jack calls it. Humans have plenty of other names for it, including: Being Grounded, Clipped Wings, Angel Probation, and Angel Quarantine. Most of the restored angels make regular but brief visits to their house to see Cas. Samandriel is one of Dean’s favorites; although, he’ll never admit it and refuses to call him anything but Alfie.

Dean thinks it’s nice to be in the know before everyone comes to the house tonight, and he hears the stories getting repeated. Well, not everyone. It won’t be the enormous circus that came to their wedding, but it will be a big group of friends. Dean can’t help a big smile at the memory, and gets called out immediately.

“What’s that smile, Dean?” asks Mary.

“Guess,”says Dean with a look at Cas.

Cas starts blushing, and Dean nudges him. “Hey, it’s a perfectly G-rated memory.”

Mary smiles and says, “If it’s G-rated, it’s probably your wedding. Well, G-rated up to the reception. Maybe up to the kiss.”

Dean sloshes his coffee and Cas mojos a clean-up. “How’d you guess, Mom?”

“Cas and I have been talking about a lot of people and angels, and the last time they were all together was your wedding.”

“That was the first time many of the people we care about met each other,” comments Cas.

“Yeah, that was really something,” Dean says and nudges Cas’ ankle with his foot. Cas gives him an enormous smile back.

“Well, since you’re in a good mood, now is either a really good time, or really bad time for a serious talk with my son.”

Dean lets out a sigh. Cas gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Talk to your Mom. I’ll check on the bees and the garden. Yell, or send Miracle out to get me when you’re done.” He looks at Dean and then gives him a soft kiss on the lips. He turns to Mary and says, “See you later,” before flapping outside.

                                                                                                      Dean and Mary head back to the sofa. This time Miracle must sense something because he’s in Dean’s lap and being particularly distracting. Dean plants a kiss on his dog’s head, and says, “Hey, settle down.”

Mary comes to it. “You know, we were going to have a Game Night with Jack and we got interrupted by that call from Donatello. It was after that things went bad — when Jack killed me.”

“I hadn’t thought about it as being part of a Game Night.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Mom…are you ok?”

“Not exactly, but it’s not just me. I was worried about you. Time is different here, there are no anniversary dates unless you choose them to be. That sounds good, but the problem is that you don’t know when something is going to hit you bad.”

“It’s heaven. It can’t hit that bad.” Miracle is a little anxious and restless, so Dean moves him off his lap.

“Dean, when people lived in their memories — when I lived in my happiest memories here in heaven, I didn’t have to deal with regret. I had you and baby Sammy and the John I first met, and that was the ideal heaven. Now the ideal for heaven is time. Eternity to be around your loved ones, know they’re safe, and make things right. I should know that’s not always an easy process.” She gives a sad wry smile, “That’s why your dad is here, right? ”

“I just know that I thank Jack he is here. Look, I don’t care if Jack freezes Hell over and turns it into a ski resort with lines to get in — the idea of any of our family being in Hell is not something I can handle. It doesn’t mean that I want to have another happy family dinner yet, but I’ve made a home with Cas, my friends are close by, and no one is suffering.” Dean thinks about his father and grandfather Samuel and wonders when he’ll be ready. “Mom, things are good with you and me. I learned my lesson. Amara tried to tell me that I needed to get to know you as a person, and not as a saint on a pedestal, or an apple pie image. I shouldn’t have done that to you. It took me a long time to figure it out.”

“Oh Dean, you went through too much, but I still have some things I still want to try to make right.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“You forgave me for other things. Not for the pain you went through when I died again, and the damage to your relationship with Jack.”

“Dying wasn’t your fault whether it was in Lawrence or years later.”

Mary sighs. “Forgiving isn’t just about fault. It wasn’t my fault that Jack killed me, but I took a chance that maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Deans eyes narrow. “You want to explain that?”

“When he stopped Nick from calling Lucifer, he didn’t just immobilize him or kill him quickly. He put Nick through pain, torture. I saw him do it. If it had been me, I admit I’d have been glad I killed him. But the pain wasn’t right — I knew who Jack was. I was with him in the Apocalypse world. I’d seen him kill to protect whole settlements and you hadn’t. I saw him when he was grim and determined. He was sometimes stubborn and too quick to make decisions, but killing Nick was different. Jack never desired to cause pain. I knew it was wrong for him.” Mary pauses and sets her mug on the coffee table. “I called Jack out on it, and he wanted me to say that it was ok. Frankly, I could have just lied. I’m a hunter. I know strategy. I could have told Jack that it was ok. We’d have all gone back to the bunker, and then I could have told you, Sam and Cas together in secret. Waiting for Castiel to get back would have made the most sense. We would have faced his soullessness together.”

Dean stands up and folds his arms across his chest. “So you’re just telling me this now?”

“I thought I could fix it. I thought that if I pushed him — me — the one who’d seen him be a leader and protect whole encampments, he’d realize something was wrong.”

“How is someone without a soul or even with a damaged soul going to feel that their soul should be fixed? Do you understand how illogical that is… was?”

“Now I do. I didn’t then. Dean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the grief and anger that you felt.”

“You don’t need to apologize. We’ll never know how much of every decision was us, and how much was Chuck warping things. It was always to his benefit for me to blame Jack. At first, I treated the poor kid so bad because I blamed him for Cas being dead. When Cas came back from the Empty the first time, I saw how much he loved Jack, and I let myself care for him. I stopped seeing Lucifer when I looked at him. The kid always looked just like Cas and I couldn’t see it until Cas was standing next to him. Then when Jack killed you that went out the window.” Dean pauses to pace around. Mary remains silent watching and waiting. After a minute, Dean turns and looks at Mary. He swallows, and starts again.

“Finally, when we understood about Chuck, and Cas brought Jack back to the Bunker with Billie’s plan, I cared again, but then Jack was supposed to be a tool to kill Chuck, and I fucking did it again. I pushed him away.  It’s not just about you — it’s about me, too. And now crazy as it seems, that sweet kid isn’t a kid anymore. He’s God.” The both look down for a minute. Dean finally says, “Have you talked to Jack about this?”

“Yes. I mean he already knows what’s in your heart when you see him, but sometimes a person has say the words anyway. Cas is next on my list. I thought I should talk to you first. He’d expect me to,” Mary says with a wry smile.

Dean shakes his head with watery eyes. Cas is going to feel all the emotions stirring in Dean through their bond. He’ll probably be pissed off that his husband isn’t happy in heaven, so he doesn’t envy Mary, but Cas is always forgiving and able to see the pain that others still carry, even in Heaven. Dean thinks that Cas will probably be better at helping Mary than he is.

“So this trauma anniversary thing… Our plan for a big heaven Game Night brought it all back to you, huh? That’s why you’re here. We did it.” Mary just shrugs.

“Since you were the one who got killed, maybe I should cut you some slack and we should talk about how you’re feeling?”

“Maybe. I don’t really know anymore. I’m not good at this.”

“But you have eternity — we have eternity.”

“So I hear. Or something close enough.”

Dean groans, and with tears spilling over says, “Get over here, Mom.”

She gets up and they hold each other for a while.

[graciehams]

he was too good to me

In which the reader has to continue on without her soulmate; Or does she?  

a/n: Hey fellow humans and Dean worshippers. I hope everyone is a having a pleasant day. This is my first supernatural fanfiction and I am so glad to share it with you! I hope you enjoy this fanfic that I wrote during sad boi hours, and by hours I mean days/months cause I stopped and then continued. Ya know. :) I believe I will also be writing a part two to this one from Dean’s perspective. Be on the lookout for “she was too good to me”. P.S. : I hope you all know that I wrote this with “Tuesday’s Gone” by Lynyrd Skynyrd playing on repeat for HOURS and me SOBBING for hours... I’m okay. In addition, I will later post an AMAZING Fanart, completed specifically for this fic by the lovely, @uh-oh-spaghetti-0 Be sure to look out for that addition. 

Warnings: Mention of major character death, depressed thoughts/depression, MAJOR angst, allusions to suicidal thoughts and/or actions. 

Word count:  1,108 words 5,909 characters

Present day // Flashback

Summary: The question is asked, “Can I truly live without you?” I know the answer. Riding in Baby can ease my troubles. Like the engine, I roar to life one last time. “Tuesday's gone with the wind Oh my baby's gone with the wind“. 

     Two weeks. Time no longer has any meaning without you here to fill my days. Being with you took up all my hours. What am I to do now? I am no more, just like you. 

——————————————————————————

The gunshot rings out like a deafening crack. Hands ruffling through my clothing as I realize that I was not the target. Turning slowly, my eyes scan for Dean, now clutching his chest. I am useless, my head underwater, limbs heavy. Time stands still yet is fleeting as I fully realize what is happening. I run to him and catch his body in my arms as we both sink to the ground. Yelling for Sammy, I apply pressure to his bleeding chest. “Dean, you are fine. You’re going to be fine. Look at me. Keep your eyes open. Sam is going to look for help and I—”

“Darlin’ it’s okay. I need you to promise me. Promise me you will get out. Live a normal life.”

“De, no. Please. How can I have any life worth living without you?”

“Darlin’ pl-please. Promise m-me.” He looks up at me with such an intensity. My breath catches in my throat and I’m unable to choke out any words. I nod as his eyes close slowly. Tears fall down my face as I clutch his still body to mine.

I cannot make that promise Dean. I cannot live deliberately without you, jerk.

——————————————————————————

     Sam has tried to reason with me but there’s no use. “It’s been an eternity.”, he says, standing outside the door. As I wake this morning and slowly leave your room, I head to the shower for the first time in weeks. Turning the water on and stepping in, the cool tiles flush against my back as I slide to the ground. You would run your course yet gentle fingers through my soapy hair, making me laugh by singing out of tune. Yet here in these intimate moments, you could be yourself. The lyrics ring through my head as I move underneath the waterfall, drowning in the memory of you.

“Now I feel the wind blow Outside my door, means I'm I'm leaving my woman at home.”

     After turning the shower nozzle off and wrapping a towel around me, I head back to your room, wet droplets cascading from my hair. Putting on comfy sweats, my attention is brought to your old leather jacket, hanging on the back of a chair. I move across the room and drape it over my shoulders as it envelops my senses. This prized possession reminds of a time where you first let me wear your jacket. “Keep it. It looks better on you”. Wearing this is a constant, deafening reminder that I’m not where you are. 

——————————————————————————

We had just finished a hunt. Vampire nest. It wasn’t a particularly difficult case but it was long and exhausting. After piling into the Impala, we were all defeated. Sam could barely keep his eyes open and soon, his snores were the only thing heard over the hum of Baby’s engine. Dean’s eyes meet mine in the review mirror. We said everything without speaking a single word. The reassurance on his face calms me. We did good. We can rest easy with a few less monsters in the world. I lay down and stretch out in the back seat as he reaches back and throws me his leather jacket. Even though it’s covered in blood and grime, I don’t care. It still smells of him. Slipping it over my shoulders, I fall into a deep slumber. The last thing heard is the gentle hum of the engine and faint lyrics of a familiar song.

——————————————————————————

     One week later, Sam and I are buried deep in lore and searching for our next case. We had been going on multiple cases in the local area as a way to keep our minds occupied. Sam seemed more concerned and weary around me as I was light, airy, happy. I was glad to be deep in hunts as I didn’t, nay, couldn’t focus on you. I simply wanted to move on and forget the previous events. Sam keeps asking how I am and if I want to talk. I can’t talk anymore. I’ve given him another week. He’ll be okay. Maybe he can fulfill your promise, Dean. An apple pie life sure sounds nice. He’ll find it. It isn’t in the books for me to go on. 

“ And I don't know Oh, where I'm going I just want to be left alone “

     I pull the door to hear the familiar whine of the hinges as I sit down on the cool leather seat. I take the time to bask in the loneliness around me. As I turn the key in the ignition, she rumbles to life. One of your favorite songs blasts through the radio. I smile, thinking of all the late night karaoke sessions we’ve had within this beautiful piece of metal and leather. I hardly remember opening the garage door and pulling out, too focused on leaving these bittersweet memories behind. I drive, not knowing the destination, too tired to enjoy the journey. It no longer matters where I am but rather where you are, waiting for me. I can no longer carry on.

“Tuesday's gone, with the wind, oh My baby's gone, with the wind.”

@cajunquandary @volleyballer519 @castielloveshisdean @anaelsbrunette @scoobydean @carryonmywaywardcaptain @idksupernatural @idksupernaturalman @deanjackles @moosewinchester83 @emptywithout @trexrambling @wheresthekillswitch @impala-dreamer @i-sing-for-me @castiel-stark @babybluebex @uh-oh-spaghetti-0 @write-orflight @towriteabetterlife @uncle-trapper 

[cajunquandary]

HEY. Hook me up with Fishing and Born on the Bayou. I'll crank something out this week. Also -

And a little bit of....

ITS YOURS BABE 🥺🥰

[katelyn--renee]

Roads Untraveled

Title: Roads Untraveled

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean Winchester, Harper Samantha Winchester (OC)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Harper Winchester (Father x Daughter, non-romantic)

Words: ±1000

Description: Dean thinks it’s time for his daughter to learn how to drive.

Written For: @cajunquandary​ ‘s 600 followers challenge. I had the prompts “Learning to Drive” and the lyrics “Weep not for roads untraveled/ Weep not for sights unseen/ May your love never end and if you need a friend,/ There’s a seat here alongside me”.

Also, decided to use this for my platonic square for my @anyfandomgoesbingo​ card!

Warnings: Fluff. Father-daughter bonding. Daddy!Dean (yes, that’s a warning because it’ll melt your heart.) 

Author’s Note: This was unbeta’d so all mistakes are my own. I had so much fun writing this. It’s short, but sweet. It kind of goes along with my other fics, Sweet Cherry Pie and Composure - same characters/family line. So... a time stamp I guess. Lol. Anyway, any and all feed back is encouraged and appreciated!! I love to hear from you! Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Enjoy!

Check out @talesmaniac89​ for more awesome page dividers!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any photos or gifs, all rights go to original creators/owners.

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

“Dad, you’re not serious!” Harper exclaimed and stared at her father with wide blue eyes, her jaw dropping in shock. “No,” She shook her head abruptly, her blonde hair swaying with the quick movement. “I can’t.” She put her hands up, denying the offer.

Dean didn’t waver an inch and continued to hold the keys up between them in the air for his daughter to take. “Sure you can.” He insisted, his face completely serious. “Gotta learn sometime, kiddo.”

She seemed to stammer over her words, obviously very nervous about what he was requesting. “Dad, no, y-you love that car! Wh-what if I do something wrong? What if I crash into a ditch or something?!” She blurted out in a panic, her words rushing out in a desperate attempt to find any excuse not to do it. 

Dean smirked a little, “Well, if you do,” He tossed the keys into the air suddenly and made his way toward the passenger’s side door. “You’ll be grounded for the rest of your life.” Harper caught the keys effortlessly despite the look of alarm on her face. She spun around to face him, shaking her head. “C’mon,” He patted the roof of the Impala, “get your butt movin’, we’re burnin’ daylight. Let’s go.” Dean climbed in, chuckling at the expression on her face while he waited for her to join.

It took Harper a moment to gather up her courage and another moment to force her feet to move. She opened the door with a shaky hand, the old metal creaking as it did. She climbed in and got settled behind the wheel; she’d ridden in the Impala a countless number of times, but it felt completely feign from this perspective. 

Dean tried to hide the smirk from his face while he watched his daughter get herself situated, grunting a little when she moved the bench seat forward. “Sorry,” she apologized, eyeing the way her father’s knees now grazed the glove compartment. He shook his head and was quick to assure her that it was fine, attempting to keep the discomfort from his face. 

She huffed out a breath and resumed her adjustments, fixing the mirrors and nervously checking every little detail before turning the ignition. Baby roared to life, her engine rumbling beneath the young Winchester, her power vibrating through Harper’s palms, all the way up her arms and into her chest. 

Dean smiled at the look on Harper’s face, remembering the first time he’d experienced that feeling himself. His heart swelled with pride and he nodded encouragingly when she glanced at him, motioning for her to put it into gear. 

She nodded and put her palm onto the shifter, moving it into the correct gear and pulling out of the garage. Within minutes, she was on the road, the long strip of asphalt seeming endless as it stretched out in front of her. She kept the speed low, fear influencing her to drive just below the limit. 

Despite a few stuttering starts and jerky stops, Harper was doing surprisingly well. “You’re doing great, kid.” Dean encouraged, watching her closely but only occasionally glancing in her direction. He didn’t want to make her more nervous or self conscious than she already was, so he tried not to make it obvious that he was studying her every move. “Relax. Just breathe, sweetheart. And let her do the work. Trust her, she knows what she’s doing.” He patted the dash affectionately, just as Harper had seen him do a thousand other times.

Harper nodded and got comfortable, relaxing into the seat. She released a breath of air and loosened her grip around the leather steering wheel, pressing the gas pedal a little harder until Baby picked up speed. A wide grin nearly split her face in two, the excitement of going faster making her heart race. Dean chuckled and allowed himself to enjoy the moment, his green eyes shimmering with fatherly pride. “That’s my girl,” He reached over and touched her arm adoringly, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving to adjust the radio. 

A smirk tugged at Harper’s lips before she swatted her father’s hand away, “Ah-ah, nope.” She turned the knob and changed the radio to her favorite station, “Driver picks the music, remember?” She teased, raising a brow,  “Shotgun shu-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted and playfully rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh and give in to his daughter’s teasing remarks. “You’ve been letting your Uncle Sammy tell you too many stories.” He grumbled, trying to hide his amusement. But her giggle made him snort out his own laugh, and the two of them enjoyed the moment together. 

Music filled the cab, the lyrics to Linkin Park’s Roads Untraveled making Harper smile. Dean scowled at the song, unfamiliar with the music, but remained - mostly - silent except for a few stubborn grumbles. Despite this, he sat and made no move to change stereo to something more enjoyable, following the rules he’d made up all those years ago. And so he simply listened carefully to the song and allowed the lyrics to sink in.

Harper sang along softly, having inherited her father’s love for music. “Weep not for roads untraveled,” Her voice made him smile as he stared through the window, watching as the tall pine trees zoomed by in a green blur. “Weep not for sights unseen,” Dean fought the urge to hum along, not wanting to give Harper the impression that he was actually enjoying the song; even though he very much was. “May your love never end and if you need a friend,” She glanced at her father, seeing right through him and she smirked, singing a little louder now. “There’s a seat here alongside me.” 

Dean met her gaze and he rolled his eyes, his own smile breaking over his features. “Alright, fine. It’s a good song.” He admitted defeat and she grinned a little brighter, cranking it up and going a little faster, Baby speeding down the empty road.

And there you have it! Cute, right? I love daddy Dean. I hope you enjoyed that! Please, leave a like, a comment and please, share! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading!

*Oops, apparently I never added my taglist? Weird.)

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278 // @flamencodiva // @perpetualabsurdity // @deandaydreaming // @thoughts-and-funnies // @wonder-cole // @downanddirtydean // @charlie-winchester94 // @sams-sass // @deanwanddamons // @that-one-gay-girl // @crist1216 // @lyarr24 // @winchest09 // @soaringeag1e // @superfanficnatural // @rebel4fandom // @deangirl93 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @janicho88 // @watermelonlipstick // @whatareyousearchingfordean // @ellewritesfix05 // @percywinchester27 // @treat-winchesterswith-kindness // @waywardbeanie // @cockslut-padalecki // @jawritter // @catching-up-with-kayla // @emoryhemsworth // @zooaliaa // @smol-and-grumpy-writes​

[herstarburststories]

You Have A Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a call from Y/N, Sam comes back town to help -- and brings Dean with him.

Requests: N°1 heyhey, could you do a Sam x reader where they went to college togehter and later meet again and they realise their feelings for eachother...xx + N°2: can you do a college sam headcanon with medicine student reader

A/N: This was fun! The monster here is mentioned in season 6, when the boys ask Bobby for advice on how to kill it. This is my first Samgirl long imagine, with Dean being the flirty he is. I wrote this almost one year ago, so it's more crude and I'm nervous to be posting it! And my piece for @cajunquandary 's 600 challenge, my prompt was monster of the week. Dividers by @talesmaniac89!

Dean's eyes remained on the road when the bitter statement left his body, tangled with a wry chuckle, “I can't believe you are still in touch with those people.”

“Those people?” Sam arched elbows, slightly skeptical by his brother's tone, “They were my friends, Dean.”

“Sammy, all our friends? Dead. They all die. Or worse.” He glanced at him for a moment, pursing his lips together. It might not be an easy assignment, but was part of the job. Sammy had tried to run away plenty times and always came back, when would he understand? “We don't get to have friends. You should've learned that.”

“They are not our friends, they are my friends. Also, they don't know about the hunting life, they aren't in harm.” Sammy hissed once the other locked his green eyes on the road again. Dean sighed, moving one hand away and up from the steering wheel in a rendition gesture.

“Whatever you say, man. I'm just warning you, this doesn't usually end up good for them.”

Sam scoffed, Dean could get on his nerves sometimes, “We saved many people that got to have a good life.”

“Yeah, but those people didn't know us before that. I told you when you left Stanford--”

“I didn't keep contact, okay!? I just... I just still have a phone that they have the number of. No social media, no calls on birthdays.” Nervously gesticulating, he added, “I know how to keep them safe, Dean.”

“So, old friend?” The eldest Winchester asked after the few minutes of silence that followed Sam's outburst, “Female old friend?”

“Yes. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Dean smirked, and Sam to rolled his eyes at his behavior, “Keep it in your pants.”

He'd let out a malicious laughter before turning on the radio, the first guitar sounds of AC/DC playing in the background.

“I think you'll be the one not keeping it, Sammy.”

“Hello?” The woman in nothing but a towel who had opened the door greeted them with a question, her brown eyes glaring at the two men with clear confusion.

Dean had no shame to check her out, innerly celebrating that she was still wet from her shower. Perhaps visiting Sam's friends wasn't that big mistake. “Hey, you.”

She grimaced at Dean for two seconds before turning her attention to Sam again, sudden recognition written on her face.

“Sam? Sam Winchester?” He nodded, smiling that light-hearted boyish grin at her. Not caring about her dressings, she just threw herself at Sammy, hugging him tightly. “I missed you!” She pulled away only to hit his shoulder. Her short stature didn't match Sam's, but he'd still make a grimace at her attempt of slap. “Why didn't you call? God, your hair grew a lot. Listen, I have some scissors.”

“Tried that, didn't work.” Dean interrupted their reencounter, trying to get in the conversation. An usual lopsided grin on his face, “Dean Winchester, Sam's brother.”

“Layla, Sam's friend.” She gave him a friendly smile in return, opening space for them to pass through the door before closing it, “Come in, I need to change in clothes.”

“I wouldn't even dream of that. Seriously.”

Layla would just wiggle one of her brows at Dean's comments, not impressed by it, “Ele é sempre assim? (Is he always like this?)”

Thankfully, Sam still remembered a bit of his friend's native language. He just chuckled, managing to apologize for Dean's typical Dean behavior, “Unfortunately. Sinto muito. (I'm sorry)”

“(Y/N) is in the kitchen. I'll be right back.” Her accent was thicking stronger duo the comfortability around Sam. Excusing herself, the caramel skinned girl leaded upstairs.

“What did she say?” Dean asked, side glancing at the path Layla had just gone on, not even sure of which language she'd just spoken, much less what was said. Sammy didn't bother replying, satisfied to grin at his obvxion brother. “Dude, come on!”

“Sam!” A well-known voice filled the room as the image of (Y/N) appeared in front of them, dressing your loyal cook's avental. You didn't think twice before jumping on Sam. “I missed you, giant!”

He, like always, caught you with a light-hearted laughter, “I missed you too, cupcake.” You two spent a few moments like this, enjoying each other's warm and long lost touch, until Dean cleared his throat. You finally went back to the ground, embarrassed by having a stranger to see that level of intimacy between you and Sam, “This is Dean, my--”

“Handsome brother. Hello, cupcake.” Dean was so going to tease Sam for the rest of his life for it.

“You really live up for Sam's description.” You giggled, heading towards the kitchen “Come in, I'm baking.”

“So, you and Layla still live together?”

“Most of the time, yes. You know how she is, comes and goes. Never wanted to stay in a place for too long and got a job that supported that.” The boys followed you, Dean examining the kitchen and trying to discover what you were cooking through the smell, while Sam couldn't take his eyes on you, “Apparently, just like you.”

Even though your back was facing them as you checked the food, the bite didn't pass unnoticed, “I had to leave, (Y/N)”

“I understand that, Sam. But you never called or texted. It was like I--” You quickly corrected yourself, “We never existed for you.”

“It's not like that.” Sam sighed, how could he justify? He knew you wouldn't buy a simple excuse. You were smart, and knew him too well to swallow a 'I went on a trip with my brother and just decided that college wasn't my deal' and leave it for that.

“I'm here!” Layla declared, arriving into the room with an excited smile, it was good to have the gang back together. Although, the tangible tension almost made her go back to the shower, “Am I interrupting something?”

“A sitcom DR.” Dean answered with sarcasm, spreading his figure on the chair when you turned around with an apple pie in your hands “What about we talk about the ca-- Is this pie?”

“We heard a scream followed by a loud roar and (Y/N) stayed near the camping part because there was still a signal and I went looking for who it was. When I got there, the thing ran away. Jorge's body... No human did that. His chest was cracked open irregularly, as if it was done by an animal and his heart looked weird. Like it was squeezed and drawn on up somehow?”

“We got a Samia.” Dean stated, relaxing on his spot. Some sault, rosemary and fire would do the job just fine, “Let me guess, it left a clawn near the body or inside it?”

Layla nodded, “Right in the chest or what lasted of it.”

“Are you okay? Finding the body in that state.” A comprehensive manner englobed Sam's question, whom noticed the normality with his friend described finding a shattered body.

“Just some guts.” She shrugged, a grimace was all the reaction they'd get. Crying wouldn't help, neither being terrorized as they expected her too. “I've seen Grey's Anatomy enough not to care about it.”

“Well, I'm literally a medicine student and I am still not okay with that. Especially after you made me go and check the body.” You argued, glaring at your best friend who'd only roll her eyes in response.

“I needed a professional to say if he was dead or not!”

“You need a therapist.”

Dean got up, looking straight at Layla. Time to play the hero in shining armor, “Don't worry with that, we will take care of it.”

Frowning, you were the one to respond, “Do you work for the police now or?”

“Are implying that we investigate it by ourselves?” Your best friend added.

Dean couldn't believe his brother. How the fuck did he let them get inside without saying they didn't know about the hunting business? It was a luck shot that they didn't think much when he said Samia.

“Nope. Not you two. We will do it.” The blonde one said, pointing at them with a smirk.

“I agree, we will do it.” Layla replied, matching his taunt smile.

“Sam, I'm not letting you and your brother do it by yourself. Jorge was my professor, I knew him. Besides, we found the body.” You got on your feet and crossed your arms, waiting for a response. Sam always had a sort of hero complex, ready to help no matter what, but there was no way you'd be letting him go into danger with his brother. Getting in your dormitory to kill a cockroach back then or facing an idiot during a bar fight to protect one of your friends was something, but this? They were talking about looking for an assassin. What if something happened to him? You were the one who called. All on you. The thought of Sam getting hurt for any reason was unbearable, but because of you? You weren't willing to do that.

“You would be in danger, (Y/N). You both.” He tried to explain, internally hoping you'd accept his reasoning and let it go. Sam didn't want you to become one of the friends who knew about this life, you deserve more. He already lost one woman he loved in this city, he couldn't lose another.

You huffed in frustration, “Just like you will!” 

“It's different.” As he was terrified of, you insisted. Arms crossed still and eyes locked with his, determined to get something from him. Sam was smart enough to know that you would keep it going. Perhaps he could give you a short explanation, “Me and my brother, we are used to this. We hunt things like that.”

Layla tilted her head to the side. The way Sam talked remembered her of animal hunting, although she highly doubted that was the case, “Little more explanation?'”

“Monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, spirits. The list goes on. Call us crazy. Roll the credits.” Sarcasm saltered every word of Dean's as he gestured up and down with a cocky smile. Everyone glared at him, a special furious look from his brother, “What? I thought they knew what we did and that's why she called.”

“Sam?” Your voice was fragile when you said his name, a demonstration that you would believe him through the fear of the truth, but that he had to say it.

Sam laid his hazel eyes on you. God, how he wished he didn't have to confirm anything, to break your vision of world so abruptly, “Dean is right. Supernatural things are real. I know it sounds--”

“Unbelievable? Problematic? Scary?”

“Yeah, all of them.” Sam offered you a humorless smile, then holding your hand the way he used to when you were nervous about an exam, “But I wouldn't lie to you, cupcake.”

The silence was broken by Layla opening a bottle of Whiskey, pouring them for the three people in the room besides herself. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, while Sam wore a tiny smile and Dean was astonished.

Noticing the eyes glued, the latina just shrugged “What? If you are gonna tell me that Dracula is real and you are a sort of Buffy's apprentice, then we will need some alcohol.”

“Why did you call?” Sammy asked, his brows knotted together, mouth slight open as he waited for your response. “You didn't know what I did. And he wasn't my professor at Stanford. Then why did you call, (Y/N)?”

You could make up a hundred excuses. Lie and say he was the one friend besides Layla that you had somehow a way to get to. Appeal to the excuse of 'I felt something weird about the death and you said I should call if I ever had a problem of any kind'. But for as much as you felt horrible for using a death as a pretext for calling him, that was partially the truth. You already had put yourself into a mess of monsters and a drained heart, it couldn't be scarier than being honest to Sam and to yourself.

At least, you hoped so. But your heart was rushing like when you saw Jorge's body. Jesus, when did love become so morbid?

You took a deep breath, oxygen barely achieving your lungs, and then started to talk.

“I wanted to call you the minute that you left, Sam. I almost did a million times.” You answered, looking down at the bottle of a sort of plant that he was putting in a dark green bag. “I thought about what you could be doing, what was so important that you couldn't send me a message. But you just didn't want to call, I guess.”

“I wanted to call, of course I did.” You scoffed at his statement, looking up to match his eyes, “(Y/N), I'm serious.”

“You didn't even come to Jess' funeral, Sam. Layla said that maybe you needed to leave to clear your mind, that was too much to deal with. But I was so worried, and sad and confused and I wanted to talk to you because you would understand, you always did. About anything. And I wanted to give you some sort of comfort, but--” You lifted your hands and shrugged your shoulder, a broken chuckle leaving your body. “But you weren't here.”

“You stopped leaving messages after two weeks. Calling was gone when it made a moth.” You sniffed. Sam's lips curved into a pure, cautelous grin. God, he was always so sweet. “The emails took two months.”

“You were never good with dates. I gave you a calendar in your freshman week.” Your teeth met your lower lip. He didn't answer, only nodding at your affirmation, omitting the fact that he still had the calendar between latin books and pieces of newspapers, “Yet, you remember all of it.”

Sam leaned forward, holding your hand with all the delicacy you would expect from a sculptor. It had been too long since he hugged you, and his touch made all your skin tickle with warmth. “I missed you too, (Y/N). I thought about you all those years.”

“So, Cupcake?”

"Let's focus on the case, Dean."

“Then you can go back and eat your cupcake?” He remarked with a grin. His brother just huffed, pointing the flashlight through the trees, “So, Layla…”

Sam rolled his eyes, like he usually did when Dean started being too Dean for his liking, “Dean. The case.”

Before he could make another teaseful comment, a roar invaded their audition. The hunters gave each other a quick glance before heading towards the direction of the noise.

Shaking the salt and rosemary mixture in his hands, Dean smirked, “That's it. Time to shine, cupcake.”

“I have to admit. Being patched up by a doctor is better than by Dean.”

A surprised, half relieved laughter came out your body as you finished another stitch on Sam's arm. That boy was unbelievable; openly talking and making jokes about his brother, who was also being patched up by your best friend in company of a bottle of whiskey, while he spoke about Layla's name being a rock song. You were working on a large wound on his shoulder-- which you were sure that was full of dirt from the forest.

Medicine student, but I'll take that complement.” You winked at him, gaining a soft grin from Sammy, “I was expecting more blo-- Why are you smiling? I'm touching a recent wound. It doesn't look dangerous, but I'm sure it is supposed to hurt. A lot.”

Sam's answer came out easily, the bare, vulnerable truth: “I'm happy you are here.”

You looked at him, his hair longer than before, but the soft simper remained on his face. You bit your lip to hold a giggle; her heart dared to hope. What he expected when he said things like this? A quiet contentment spread through his expression while he watched your reaction.

“You should have come home sooner.” 

His mouth formed a line, “I don't have a home, (Y/N). It's just Dean, me and the road now.”

“No, Sam.” Shaking your head lightly, you intertwined your fingers with his. His life was dangerous, you couldn't afford the luxury of waiting even more to share what you had finally admitted to yourself in the moment he walked through the door. It didn't seem like the easiest, simpler situation. But the only hard thing you couldn’t go through was to be away from Sam Winchester. He lingered on you for years, you were done letting him run away. It was time to hold his hand and walk together. “You should've come home sooner. To me.”

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[cajunquandary]

I have never done a challenge before but I would really to try so could I have the prompt- 6 learning to drive?

You got it! What song or lyric would you like as well?