#taylor swift spn

[mothstiel]

i doubt this post will get any of the traffic that the og post did but remember the concept edit for the albatross by ts “the devil that you knew looks now more like an angel” well i finished it!! and i would reblog the original post but it wouldn’t let me post a video with it. so here it is.

[castielsprostate]

the year is 2027. the political podium is lit up, cameras and journalists swamping the area. from the left side, misha collins descends up the stairs defying the laws of gravity, on the right side, taylor swift is carried up by three stans crawling on hands and knees. they stand before a banner "misha collins x taylor swift 2028", jensen ackles is hung up jesus style in front of it. misha and taylor announce, "we are straight"

jensen ackles is pelted with bricks

[deansbisexualflannel]

i’m never gonna love again

[culturefrancaise]

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ONLY 48 HOURS LEFT.

[destiel-news-channel]

[Image ID: There are two images. The first one is the Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'Trump shared fake AI-generated images of Taylor Swift and her fans endorsing him.' to Cas' 'I love you'. The second one is a screenshot of a post by Donald Trump on Truth Social. It shows a collage of images with Taylor Swift fans photoshopped to wear 'Swifties for Trump' t-shirts. One of the photos is a screenshot of a news article with the headline 'Swifties turning to Trump after ISIS foiled Taylor Swift concert'. The article is marked as satire. Additionally there is a fake image of Taylor Swift as Uncle Sam captioned with 'Taylor wants you to vote for Donald Trump'. Trumps response to the images is 'I accept!' /End ID]

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[losers-clvb]

"you said if we had been closer in age, maybe it would have been fine" sam winchester x party girl!reader

content: age gap, fluff, angst, language, sam is a little mean, reader is a little crazy, travis appearance lol

word count: 4k

song: all too well ten minute version by taylor swift

note: everyone say "thank you jen" for encouraging me to get this out!! love you, girl @xoswiftieprincess !

m.list meet party girl!

The winding roads had been relatively empty compared to what you had been used to in the city.

Sam drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other grasping yours in your lap. You'd been drifting in and out of sleep the entire drive, listening to the soft voices on the podcast Sam had picked out.

There had been a deal: half the drive would be Sam's choice, the other your own. You assumed he'd play the music he grew up on, the kind his brother still blasted through Impala speakers the few times he'd come with Sam to visit.

Instead, you were learning about the ancient Aztecs's religious traditions.

What a fucking snoozefest.

Still, you didn’t complain, and had even carried on a conversation about the topic. It was a lot of uh huhs and wait, what does that means, but you wanted him to feel heard. You loved his brain, you loved his enthusiasm, you loved him. So what if you had to pretend sometimes?

“Baby,” Sam muttered, putting more pressure into the strokes of his thumb on your hand. You opened an eye, turning your head to look at him.

“Hmm?” You hummed.

“We gotta stop at the store. I told Jody I’d pick a few things up.”

“Okay, honey.” You dismissed before cuddling into his arm, resting your cheek on his forearm.

When Sam had asked you to go with him to a dinner, one thrown together with his mismatched family. Dean would be there, but you already knew him. The real anxiety maker?

Some lady you didn’t know who obviously meant something to Sam.

Jody had heard about you in passing. She thought great, let Sam finally have a fling. But when your name kept coming up months after, getting close to a year of your relationship taking bloom, she knew she had to let him know she supported him. He didn’t have much of that, and Jody was always happy to play step-in-mother.

There was a small fact that had escaped her in all the times she’d heard Sam and Dean talking about you: your age. They had bickered about Dean picking fun at your youth, but she figured he was being dramatic, like he usually was. She was expecting someone maybe a year or two younger. What a surprise she was about to get.

That would be a future problem. Right now, Sam was more focused on your cheek pressed against him, breath ghosting over his skin. He was so focused on you, in fact, that he had taken his eyes off the road to admire your slightly parted lips.

The first thing he saw when he looked back to the road was the glowing red cast over the darkening street. He knew there was no hope for slamming on the brakes. He made the conscious decision to coast on through it, thanking whatever force he still believed in for allowing the cross-traffic to be nonexistent. He’d relaxed into his seat when you spoke.

“Did you just run a red light?” You had a slight slur in your voice, the sleep slowly seeping off of you. He flicked his gaze to the corner of his eye, wanting to catch your expression. Aside from the usual killing-and-maiming-of-monsters thing, Sam was pretty straight laced. He followed traffic laws, he always returned his shopping cart to the corral, and he never drank too much. This wasn’t like him.

“No.” Sam answered, mumbling the word out in hopes that you hadn’t actually seen the light, or perhaps that you had suddenly gone colorblind and couldn’t actually tell green from red.

“Mmm,” you purred, sitting up, “looked pretty red to me.”

Sam couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips. You stretched your arms, a small noise escaping you at the relief it brought.

“It may have been slightly red.” Sam’s hand had fallen from your hand when you stretched, but he immediately placed it on your thigh, needing to just touch a part of you to keep him grounded.

“There is no slightly red, Sammy.”

“You’re criticizing my driving?” He steered the conversation away from himself, a teasing tone in his voice. “Do I have to remind you of last month?”

“I didn’t hit that curb! It got in my way.” You defended.

There had been one time during Sam’s last visit that he had dared to let you drive. He had been exhausted and, hey, you had your license, so you couldn’t have been that bad of a driver, right?

Wrong.

Whoever proctored your test must have been unconscious because there was no way you had passed on your own. You took turns too sharply, had to slam on your brakes more than once, and had even scraped a bit of the body of the car on a curb. Sam cringed at the memory of the nails-on-chalkboard noise it had made.

“Mhm,” Sam hummed and, if you were less focused on looking for the perfect spot for him to park in at the store, you would have teased him for the sassy tone of it.

You gathered your purse up, more of a formality than anything since Sam never let you pay for anything, but stopped when you noticed him just staring at you. You quirked an eyebrow up, a small pout popping your lips out.

“What?” You asked when he still didn’t move.

“I love you.” Sam answered simply, cupping your cheek in his hand. His thumb brushed across your chin.

“I know,” you giggled before kissing him, almost sighing at the taste of coffee and spearmint. “I love you too.”

And so it was, you gathered Sam’s hand in yours while you cruised the aisles of the grocery store. Sam held a basket in his other hand, ignoring the growing weight with every item you placed in it.

He had eyed the packet of gummy worms you had swiped up, but said nothing. There was no winning the argument of whether or not you needed them when you were going to a dinner. He would have to live with the fact that you were surviving on an 80% sweet treat diet.

“Chocolate or blueberry?” You asked, holding up two muffin options. Sam pretended to contemplate the decision. You scrunched your nose up and shook the packages, trying to get him to give you an answer quicker.

“Blueberry,” he finally replied, holding the basket out for you to drop them in. Just before you could skip ahead of him to the next aisle, he pulled you in for another kiss. It was quick and sweet, nothing like the heated makeout you two had when he picked you up.

Still, Sam noticed the furrowed brows of the middle-aged man who swiftly passed by. His glance at your college id card hanging out of your purse that quickly shot to observe your swollen lips gave the man all the information he needed to send a nasty glare Sam’s way. He knew what it meant. It was the “stop kissing young girls, you creep” look that he picked up on far too often for his liking.

He shouldn’t care about it. He knew that. You had gone on many tangents about how you didn’t “give a shit” if some “bitchy assholes” found a problem with the “true love” you and Sam shared.

It didn’t stop the small distance he kept between you two for the rest of the shopping trip.

Back in the privacy of the car, he let himself hold you again. The rest of the drive to Jody’s was full of laughter and you feeding him those damned gummy worms.

You were nervous. Very nervous.

What if she didn’t like you? Again, you didn’t care much what other people thought, but if Sam’s family didn’t like you, there was no way your relationship would last.

The pit in your stomach grew while each thump of Sam’s fist on the door. You stood next to him, one of his flannels draped over your shoulders and the muffins in your hands.

“Sam-,” you began to ask if Jody was nice, for around the fiftieth time that day, when the door swung open to reveal--

“Hey-ey!” Dean exclaimed, holding his arms out as if to say “look at this!”. “My two favorite dorks!”

“You weren’t calling me a dork when I outdrank your ass.” You snapped back. Technically, you had only won the little drinking game because some blonde behind you had caught Dean’s eye, but you took that as a win.

“You didn’t outdrink me, you-,” Dean started to argue, but Sam cut him off.

“Can we maybe not do this all over again?” Sam sighed. A smile was weaving itself onto his face despite his attempts at exasperation. He couldn’t help the joy that swelled in his chest at the sight of his two favorite people getting along so well.

“Of course, whatever my honey wants.” You shoved the muffins into Dean’s hands before wrapping your fingers around Sam’s arm, hanging on him to calm the anxiety that had sprung back up the moment you remembered why you were standing on a random doorstep. He kissed the top of your head and pulled you in close.

“C’mon, honey,” Dean sneered the pet name with that brotherly love he bottled up specially for Sam, “dinner’s almost done.” He turned on his heel and sauntered to the kitchen.

“I love you.” Sam mumbled to you one last time. He knew you were nervous. Hell, he was nervous too. He hoped his words would help ease you. If you were happy, he would be happy, at least, that was the theory.

You clung to Sam as he directed you in the direction Dean had gone in. The clatter of scraping and sizzling was growing louder with each step.

“Dean, get your fingers out-,” a feminine, but strong, voice scolded, “no touching!”

Your eyes caught onto the woman flitting about, a dish towel slung over her shoulder. She swatted at Dean’s hand, making you laugh. It wasn’t very loud, but she must’ve had the hearing of a dog, because she spun around. Her attention caught on Sam first, his large figure being a beacon in any room.

“Sam! You’re here. And this is-,” her voice cut off when she flicked her gaze to you. You offered a smile and she returned it, though it wavered a bit. “You must be his girlfriend! I’ve heard so many things, all good.”

“Sam goes on and on about you and Dean.” You revealed, melting into your boyfriend’s side. The tension you felt before had lifted, and you were utterly relieved for that fact.

“Well, I’ve saved his ass enough times, he better talk about me.” Jody joked. Her eye caught movement just behind her. “Dean!”

“What?” Dean tried to say, but with the biscuit shoved in his mouth, it came out as more of a “whuff?”. You snickered at the scene. Whatever initial thoughts Jody had about you faded away and you all moved about as a perfect unit, only bumping into each other once or twice.

Dinner spun by without problem. Or, well, without a clear problem. No one argued, other than the small bicker between Sam and Dean about who got to use the butter first. There were no ill-willed glares. Everything seemed to be in perfect harmony.

Until you tried to hold Sam’s hand. To his credit, he did let you rest your palm on his for a few moments. Slowly, he had inched it away, opting to hide his hands in his lap. You were left staring off into the space where he should have been, but an empty tabletop lay instead.

Laughter surrounded you.

Was Sam embarrassed to love you in front of others? You hadn’t thought that before. No, he always held your hand. He always gave you quick pecks just for the hell of it. He had never done this, never treated you like some little girl that was constantly begging for attention.

You couldn’t shake the shame you felt. It lingered on your skin through the rest of the meal. Even Jody’s apple pie couldn’t get it to go away.

Now, the night air chilled you on your short walk to Sam’s car. You didn’t dare reach for Sam, not after how he made you feel.

Sam knew something was wrong. You weren’t as happy as you usually were. You didn’t immediately weave your fingers into his when he climbed into the car. You made no move to play your music, leading the first half hour of the car ride back to your college town to be silent.

Your eyes stayed glued to the window. The darkened night sky held stars, but you didn’t feel like looking at them. You were mad. You were sad. You were embarrassed.

You heard Sam sigh, then mumble your name. His fingers brushed onto your clothed arm.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, voice soothing. It quelled a bit of the tension you held in your body, but the mental image of his hand sliding away from yours made you swallow down the thick emotion that was building in you.

“Yeah.” You answered short. It wasn’t a complete lie. Dean and Jody were fun. Sam was the one who made it not so enjoyable, but you didn’t want to confront him about it. Would it make you sound like a child throwing a fit?

“You’re kinda quiet,” Sam laughed, glancing at you for a moment. Your eyes dropped to the floor and you bit your lip to keep from responding. He frowned, concern washing onto him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s obviously something, baby. Please talk to me.” Sam tapped a finger on your thigh, out of habit. You hesitated, but he wasn’t gonna let this go, you knew that.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” You asked, voice small. You had never felt so… immature before. You hated it.

Sam nearly choked on his breath.

“What? Why would I be embarrassed? I love you.” He couldn’t believe this. How could you think he would be anything but proud of you?

“I know you love me, this isn’t about that.” You didn’t like how he was seemingly avoiding this. Did he really not see it all?

The answer was, no, he didn’t see it. It wasn’t something he set out to do. It all just happened, like all the guilt he felt about loving a younger woman just took control.

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about you not wanting to hold my hand at dinner. You made me feel like a little girl, Sam.” You unloaded it all on him.

Sam. Not honey, not Sammy. Sam. Like he didn’t mean anything to you.

Sam ignored the pang of heartache at the formality of the name.

“This is about me not holding your hand?” Sam scoffed. The condescension in his voice wasn’t intentional, but it still rang through you, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“No, Sam, this is about you not holding my hand in front of your family. You treated me like I was your friend, some acquaintance, not your girlfriend.” You didn’t even think of the next words that came out, but it was what escalated this argument. “Like loving me is wrong.”

Sam cringed at your words. He cringed because he’d thought them before. He’d thought loving you was wrong, morally, anyway. He took a deep breath, the regret he felt for what he was about to say doing nothing to stop him.

“Well, isn’t it? In some way, my love for you shouldn’t exist, right?”

You felt a shiver run up your spine. No. This couldn’t be happening. He regretted loving you.

“Why, because of my age? Because I don’t kill things for a living?” You spat out.

“Yeah. Because of your age.” Sam answered, nodding. Light flew over your faces while he drove, the signs of businesses paving the way to the end of the best thing that had ever happened to you.

“You’re not that much older than me. I mean, Jesus, I’ve had friends date men older than you.” You murmured, ignoring the pricking of tears at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t cry, not now. It would show Sam that he was right, you were too young, you couldn’t even handle a simple fight.

“I’m thirty-,” Sam was cut off by you.

“You just turned thirty, like last month. My birthday’s in-,” this time Sam cut you off.

“You’re gonna be twenty-two. That’s eight years,” he finished the sentence with your name. He sounded far too much like a scolding parent.

“I can do math, I’m not stupid.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. Sam rolled his eyes. You were taking this all the wrong way. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. But, here he was, trying to talk you down from making him the bad guy.

“I didn’t call you stupid.” Sam tightened his grip on the steering wheel to keep him focused. “You’re acting like a child,” he mumbled, hoping you wouldn’t hear it, because, really, he didn’t mean it.

“What?” You asked, pushing your head forward, ear turned to him. Now you were really pissed off. “What was that?”

“I said, you’re acting like a child.” He repeated, shaking his head.

You nodded your head sarcastically.

“If I’m such a child, maybe we shouldn’t be together. Wouldn’t want you to be a creepy old man.” You seethed, quoting his words from a few weeks into your relationship. He’d confided in you about his feelings, about how he felt wrong in how right your skin felt against him. At the time, you’d given him a kiss on the nose and said all the right things to make him feel better. Now, it was fuel for you to get through to him. You were hoping he would see where he was wrong, that he would take it all back and everything would go back to the way it had been.

Apparently you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be.” He agreed, eyes glued to the road so he wouldn’t see the effect his words had.

You froze, staring at the side of his face. He didn’t glance at you, he didn’t look like he regretted his words. The tears you had been holding back fell, streaking your mascara.

“What?” You asked, voice wavering. Please, you silently begged, please just say you’re sorry.

“We shouldn’t be together. This isn’t working, not like it should.” Sam knew he was being overdramatic to some extent. Really, your relationship did work, but he didn’t want to ruin you. He didn’t want to be the thing holding you back from something better, something easier. So, instead he hurt you. “Maybe if we were closer in age, it would. But, we can’t change that.”

“We can’t change that, so we should just ignore it. It shouldn’t matter.” You blabbered out, fingers trembling where you rested them on the middle console of the vehicle.

“It does. You know it does.”

“I don’t care about our ages!” You argued, trying to swipe away some tears.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want you to cry. It wasn’t fair, but this was how it had to be. Sometimes life wasn’t fair.

“Yeah, well, I do.” Sam sighed, flexing his jaw.

Your heart completely shattered. You couldn’t sit here and let him talk to you like this. You gripped onto the strap of your purse.

“Let me out.” Your voice was as flat as you could manage. Sam furrowed his brows. What the hell were you talking about? “Let me out. Now.” You repeated, a bit more stern.

“What? No.” Sam wasn’t gonna let you walk the streets of some random town. He would bring you back to your dorm, crying or not.

“Sam, let me out now or I’ll fucking jump out!” You threatened. Yeah, it was a little crazy, but you weren’t thinking straight. And Sam knew you, even if he pretended not to. He knew you would jump out, given enough motivation.

He pulled into the parking lot of a closed Burger King. The car hadn’t even stopped all the way before you lept out, sneakers hitting pavement. Sam huffed and put the car into park, climbing out to follow you. You were his girl -- wait, no, not anymore, but he still felt responsible for you.

You were a mess. There wasn’t a specific direction you were headed in. You just wanted away from this, away from the shame that still oozed all over you. You heard Sam call your name, causing you to quicken your pace.

“Get back in the car.” It wasn’t a demand, it was a plea. You shook your head, sucking in a steadying breath. It didn’t help.

“No.” You shuffled through your purse, looking for your phone. You needed someone, anyone. Anyone other than Sam.

“Please, just-,” Sam reached for your arm, but you flinched away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled. He didn’t get to touch you after breaking your heart like that. Your fingers slipped on the buttons on your phone as you typed, causing you to take longer to find your friend’s contact that it should have. You all but sprinted away from Sam, holding the phone to your ear.

He followed you, sighing.

“Stop acting like this.” There it was again, that fucking parental scolding. You cut a glare at him.

“Fuck,” you mumbled when the call went to voicemail. She was probably sleeping, like you should have been. That had been the plan. Sam would bring you back to the motel he always booked when he was in town to visit, and you two would spend the night together before he had to get back to helping Dean. Instead, you were here, wishing you had never met the tall man following you around the sidewalks.

“Baby-,” it just slipped out, Sam didn’t mean to say it, but you spun on your heel, cutting him off.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking call me that.” You had a murderous look in your eyes. He’d really pissed you off this time. It wasn’t your first fight, but it was looking to be your last.

You dialed another number, praying to God that he was awake. Of course, he was. I mean, when did Travis spend a Friday night not partying?

“Rosie?” Travis answered the phone with. He knew you were with Sam, you hadn’t shut up about this night for days. He just didn’t know why you were calling him.

“Trav,” you almost sobbed, the familiarity of your nickname hurting more than it should. “Can you pick me up?”

“What the fuck did he do?” Travis asked, but he was already moving toward his car. He took care of you like a sister, and he’d be damned if he would let you spend one more second hurting. Thankfully, he hadn’t drank as much as usual.

“Just…,” your lip quivered when you saw Sam standing there, staring at you like that. Like he cared. “Please hurry.”

And he did. Travis turned the three-hour drive into two hours. His hardened gaze immediately softened at the sight of you sitting on the curb near the Burger King, Sam leaned against the building, keeping watch over you.

You shot up at the sight of your savior, stumbling to him before collapsing into his arms. Travis glared at Sam. He didn’t know what had happened, but whatever it was, it had left you like this, and that was all he needed to hate the older man.

“I’m-,” Sam started to say “I’m sorry”, but Travis snapped at him before he could continue.

“Shut the fuck up.”

party girl taglist : @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami @giowritess

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick

[strawlessandbraless]

Gird your loins

[acklesarchives]

Castiel “Castles crumbling”

Castiel x fem!reader

Helping cas recover after losing his grace

Words ; 943

The warehouse was unnervingly quiet now, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of smoke clung to the air, a suffocating reminder of the fight that had just ended.

Your legs carried you forward on instinct, the weight of everything that had just happened settling on your chest. Dean and Sam were a few steps behind, speaking in hushed tones about their next move, but their words faded into background noise as your eyes locked on Castiel.

He was slumped against the cold, concrete wall, his trench coat hanging off his shoulders like it was too heavy for him to bear. His head was tilted back, his eyes half-closed, and for the first time, he looked truly, utterly defeated.

It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was something deeper, something that made your throat tighten and your heart twist painfully in your chest.

You dropped to your knees beside him, hesitating only for a moment before reaching out. “Cas?”

His eyes cracked open at the sound of your voice, but they didn’t hold the piercing light you were used to. They were dull now, almost lifeless. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head faintly. “You shouldn’t…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“Don’t say that,” you said quickly, your hand hovering over his arm, unsure if he would pull away. “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

He let out a dry, bitter laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. “Help me? You can’t help what’s already broken.”

“Cas—”

“I’m nothing now,” he interrupted, his tone sharper, more biting. His gaze shifted away from you, fixing somewhere in the distance. “My grace is gone. I’ve fallen. I was an angel of the Lord, and now I’m…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Now you’re human,” you finished for him, your voice soft.

His head turned sharply, and for a moment, his expression was one of disbelief—maybe even anger. “Human,” he echoed bitterly. “Do you have any idea what that means? I’ve lost everything. My purpose, my power, my… everything I was. My foes and friends alike have seen me fall.” His voice cracked, and he looked away again, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know how it could’ve ended this way.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you struggled to keep your voice steady as you reached for him again. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Listen to me,” you said firmly, your thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “You are not nothing, Castiel. Do you hear me? You’re still you. You’re the one who saved me, who saved Dean and Sam, who saved the world more times than I can count. You’ve fought for humanity, for people you didn’t even know, and for what? To tell me now that you’re nothing? I won’t let you say that.”

His blue eyes, so dull and lifeless moments ago, searched yours now, and you saw the cracks in the wall he was trying so desperately to keep up. “I’ve failed,” he whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I’ve only ever caused pain. To Heaven. To you.”

“You haven’t failed,” you said, your voice trembling as you leaned closer. “You’ve done more good than you’ll ever know. And you’re not alone. Do you hear me? You’ll never be alone.”

His hands came up hesitantly, resting over yours as if grounding himself in your touch. “I don’t know how to be this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to be… human.”

“You don’t have to figure it out on your own,” you said, leaning your forehead against his. “You have me. You have Dean and Sam. You have us, Cas. And we’re not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, the weight of your words hanging in the space between you. Then, slowly, he leaned into you, his hands tightening slightly over yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words so quiet you almost didn’t hear them.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, the air between you shifting. There was a hesitation in his expression, a question he didn’t voice aloud. But when he leaned in, the kiss was soft, tentative, as if he were afraid you might break under his touch.

You kissed him back, your fingers threading through his hair, pouring everything you couldn’t say into that moment—your admiration, your affection, your love.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time since Metatron had stolen his grace, there was a faint light in his eyes.

“Uh, hate to interrupt your little moment,” Dean’s voice cut through the quiet, making you jump, “but we gotta get moving. This place isn’t exactly safe.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t move far from Castiel. His hand found yours, and when you glanced at him, his expression was soft but steady.

Dean raised a brow but didn’t comment further, leading the way out with Sam close behind.

As the four of you left the warehouse, Castiel’s hand remained in yours, his grip firm and grounding. He might have lost his grace, his power, and the castle he’d once built, but as you walked beside him, you silently vowed to help him rebuild—brick by brick, piece by piece.

And this time, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

[actuallybean]

Slut!*

It wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t calm—but falling for Sam had a pulse, and it beat louder every time you leaned into the chaos. Inspired by Slut! by Taylor Swift *Brief mentioning of sexual intercourse. Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The bunker had always been a place of refuge—a place to reset, regroup, and escape the madness of the world outside. But tonight, it felt different. The quiet in the halls, the hum of the bunker’s old pipes—it all seemed too loud. Too still.

You and Sam had spent the last few days tracking down a vengeful spirit in a small town, but now, as you sat alone in the library, the adrenaline had worn off. All that was left was the silence, and the tension.

It wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t calm. Falling for Sam had never been easy. It had always been about the chaos—the pull that surged between you two, the way your heart raced and your stomach twisted with every heated glance. The way you always seemed to get a little closer, a little too close for comfort.

And when you really thought about it, when you tried to make sense of it, it always came back to that night. The night the walls between you crumbled, the night you gave into the pull, the chaos.

The memory made your pulse quicken. Sam’s mouth on yours, the roughness of his hands, the way everything between you both felt urgent and needed, like it couldn’t wait any longer. You never would have admitted it at the time, but in the back of your mind, you knew what it was. You knew why you gave in.

It was the same reason you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him now.

The door to the library creaked open, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Sam’s presence filled the room like a heavy cloud. You could feel the weight of his gaze on the back of your head, the same way you always could.

You let out a breath, turning your chair slowly. "Sam."

His tall frame filled the doorway, his broad shoulders framed in the soft light of the hallway. His expression was unreadable, but you could tell something was off. Something had shifted. The way his eyes lingered on you spoke volumes. You’d learned how to read him over the years—this wasn't a case. This wasn’t just a routine debrief.

His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but then stopped. You waited, your heart hammering in your chest. It wasn’t the first time this had happened—the silence between you both, the unsaid words. But tonight, it felt heavier than usual. The weight of it made you shift in your seat, uneasy.

"How’s the case?" you asked, though the question didn’t feel right. It felt like a distraction.

"It’s over," Sam said flatly, his eyes never leaving yours. He stepped forward, crossing the room slowly, like he was unsure of his next move. "But that’s not what I came in here for."

You swallowed, something tightening in your chest at his words. "What do you mean?"

Sam stopped in front of you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the familiar scent of him that always seemed to make your heart skip. It was a rush, a constant pull, that damned gravity that always pulled you back to him.

He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he admitted, the raw honesty in his words knocking the breath out of you. "I don’t know what to do with it anymore."

Your pulse spiked, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. You stood up, facing him now, your heart pounding in your ears. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

It was too much—too much desire, too much raw tension that you couldn’t ignore any longer. You hadn’t been able to, not since that night. That night that felt like a mistake, but in all the right ways. The kiss you couldn’t stop thinking about. The way his hands had touched you, moved over you, the way his body had fit against yours like it was always supposed to be that way.

But then you’d both backed away. You hadn’t talked about it. You hadn’t even mentioned it. You’d buried it, like you did with all the things you were afraid to face.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you two, and Sam’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering down to your lips before he swallowed, his throat working.

"I don’t regret it," you said, your voice low. "And I know you don’t either."

Sam's eyes flickered, a shadow crossing over his face, but it was gone just as quickly. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he was fighting with himself. "I—"

Before he could finish, you reached for him, your hand brushing over his chest. The moment your skin touched his, a spark shot through you, igniting every nerve in your body.

“(Y/N),” Sam’s voice was strained now, and you could feel the heat between you both intensifying. He was holding back, but so were you. And the air between you was charged, almost painfully so.

But there was no more holding back. You couldn’t do it anymore.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him towards you, crashing your lips to his in a kiss that was desperate, unrelenting. Sam didn’t hesitate this time. He kissed you back, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you closer, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that had you reeling.

The kiss was messy, chaotic—everything it had always been between you two. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You knew the risks, knew how complicated it all was. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the fire between you both, the thing that had been smoldering just beneath the surface.

You pulled away, breathless, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head in a hurried motion. Sam wasn’t far behind, pulling your jacket off and tossing it aside as his lips traced down your neck, his hands exploring, claiming.

“I need you,” you whispered, your voice unsteady as you pushed him toward the nearby wall.

Sam’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a grin. "And I need you," he murmured before his lips descended on yours again, his hands guiding you until your back was pressed against the cold surface of the wall.

There were no more words after that—only the heady rush of hands, lips, and breathless gasps as you gave into the chaos.

Later, after everything had settled, after the wild energy had ebbed, you lay beside Sam on the bed, the room still humming with the pulse of the night. His arm was draped over your waist, and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

There was nothing said about it. No apology, no regret. Just the quiet hum of two people who had given in to the inevitable.

But it was more than that. You knew it. He knew it. The pull between you was stronger than ever, and maybe it wasn’t comfortable, maybe it wasn’t calm, but the rush of it—the pulse of it—was exactly what you both needed. And you were both addicted to it now, more than ever.

It wasn’t calm, it wasn’t comfortable—but falling for Sam Winchester had a pulse, and it beat louder every time you leaned into the chaos.

[sailorsally]

The fact that Billie Eilish named her cat Misha bc of Misha Collins & wrote 'You should see me in a crown' inspired by BBC Sherlock. She is thee moment & the moment is 2012 Tumblr.

[castielsprostate]

it's the year 2025, misha collin's new book "things i can now tell you" hits the shelves detailing all the homophobia behind the scenes at the hit cw show supernatural. the cw building is set on fire, eric kripke and rob singer are strung up in protest outside nextar media group as bedlund is raised into the sky as king. jensen ackles and misha collins go balls deep in each other by pirating the cw channel in shitty amazon dean and cas cosplays

the cw sniper is caught, the reveal is livestreamed behind a 10$ pay per view wall on twitch. the mask gets ripped off revealing none other than jared padalecki who grits out, "you fags will never live up to sastiel!" he gets mind exploded by taylor swift singing the gay anthem

[deranged-fanfic-nugget]

the fact that spn and destiel are trending again because of a singer, a youtuber, and a completely unrelated show truly shows the ecosystem of tumblr, the food webs we learnt in school are happening in front of our very eyes

[spngirlpolls]

you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[cowboyhatesithere]

Lucy and Jack hearing Taylor and Joe talk about killing themselves as love for each other:

[whyissupernaturaltrending]

January 9, 2024 - It looks like Taylor Swift may have caused Supernatural to trend.

It is the year of our Lord Godstiel 2024 and yet Supernatural is trending alongside Taylor Swift and Misha Collins.

Whilst the trend may just be the universe recalibrating itself, it looks like it may have started with Taylor Swift. Apparently there've been some discussions about what would happen if Taylor Swift came out as straight [x] [x], though don't quote me on that, as I'm not up-to-date on the Taylor Swift news. She was however trending earlier today with Misha Collins as a secondary tag [x].

This may have then brought back the memories of Misha Collins' coming out as straight back in 2022 [x] [x]. The posts gained some traction, and alsongside some general spn posting and the news of Our Flag Means Death cancellation announced through the destiel meme [x] [x], this appears to have impacted the trend. In addition, some people have been commenting on Jensen's apparent hopes for a Supernatural reboot which definitely helped boost the tag [x] (no announcements here, just discussions, but maybe one day).

However, this is mostly a theory and sadly, I do not have a ✨straight✨ answer today.

[losers-clvb]

mine // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x girlfriend!reader

summary: when the cassette player in the impala breaks during a roadtrip, you and the winchesters are forced to listen to the radio. however, when looking for a station, you come across a song by a certain blond singer and fall in love with it.

content: fluff, reader becomes a swiftie, dean (as a result of reader) becomes a swiftie, no use of y/n, sam is happily third wheeling, smut, oral (female receiving), making out, brief mentions of grinding

word count: 2.5k

note: happy ending for dean and reader this time! i am a swiftie, so it's no surprise that i had to write a fic with taylor incorporated. if it wasn't obvious by the title, the song mentioned throughout is 'mine' by taylor swift. there wasn't supposed to be smut, but the i was listening to 'so it goes...' by taylor and got a little carried away. this fic is very fitting because just a few days after starting to write it your girl secured the lover: live from paris vinyl!!! thank god, because lover is my favorite album. anyways, enjoy this, and look forward to more sam and dean fics coming because i am definitely not done writing!

masterlist

----

“Damn it!” You’d heard that about six times in the last five minutes. It had been a calm day of driving. Windows down, sun shining in, and Dean’s hand in yours. Sam had been in the backseat, laughing along as you told a story from your childhood. The background music to your tale had been the radio softly playing a cassette that Dean had chosen before beginning the journey from Virginia to Michigan. Or it had been the background music until the lead singer had been cut off mid word by a crunching sound. This prompted Dean to slam his hand on the radio a few times before proceeding to pull into any empty lot to get a closer look.

“I can fix this,” he had claimed as he fiddled around with random things surrounding the radio. You watched him with furrowed eyebrows, knowing he had little to no clue what he was doing. Even if he did somehow know how to fix the thing, there was no way he could do it without any tools. After the aforementioned slurry of curses, you finally put the man out of his misery and placed a hand on his arm.

“Dean, let’s just listen to the radio like normal people.” Your words brought a scoff from him and he sat up in his seat. Sam watched the two of you with amusement. It had been enjoyable to watch his brother fall in love with someone who could keep up with him. Though sometimes the stubborn attitude you shared with each other caused brief bickering, there was no one else Dean would rather spend the rest of his life with. He hadn’t told you in all those words, but everything else he had said and done had told you that much. Sam would say that his older brother would take a bullet for you if he hadn’t already watched how that turned out.

“Fine.” Dean grumbled out as he started the car back up. He let you find a station. He was confident in your skills to find a suitable station for driving in the Impala. You knew exactly what he liked and exactly what he couldn’t stand to listen to. And perhaps you did. But that day, when your fingers turned the dial through the stations and you caught a snippet of a song, you were choosing for yourself.

“-believe it?, As we’re lying on the couch,”

“This one!” You perked up as the female voice filled the vehicle.

“No.” Dean’s voice had a finality in it you didn’t like. You frowned and turned in your seat. His eyes were on the road but he watched your reaction from the corner of his eye as he flitted his attention from the road to you. You weren’t happy with him, that was obvious, and he knew you weren’t going to back down. Neither would he.

“Yes.” You pushed back as the song played on.

“No.” Dean repeated.

“Just for this song.” You offered, knowing you probably weren’t going to like the following songs anyways.

“Fine.” Your boyfriend gave in to you far easier than he would have if it had been anyone else. In the silence after, you hummed along to the song, not yet knowing the lyrics. Dean continued to watch you, smiling as he did so. By the last chorus, you could sing along.

“Who the hell even was that?” Dean asked once the song had started to fade out. As if in the car himself, the radio DJ responded.

“That was country music superstar Taylor Swift’s new single ‘Mine’ off her upcoming third album ‘Speak Now’. Next up,-”

You moved the dial again, knowing the song you had just listened to would end up being the only hit you would enjoy from the station. You landed on a station that was playing similar music as what was on the cassette. Dean grasped your hand in his and you interlocked fingers.

“Thank you, baby.” You said to him. You knew he would have given in to you no matter what, but you still wanted to make him feel appreciated. His response to you was a bright smile.

----

The next time the song was heard, it was from the speakers on your laptop. You were strictly a researcher for the boys. No physical hunting for you. There was one time you had attempted to join the boys on tracking a lone vampire. Dean was far too distracted by making sure you were never out of his sight that he had missed the vamp push past the group. It had ended with Sam almost getting his throat ripped out, which had really pissed him off. After that, it was only computer work for you. You hadn’t complained. Historically speaking, you weren’t one for running for your life.

This hunt was pretty easy. A ghost had been terrorizing the residents of town under a local bridge, resulting in car crashes and a few pedestrians being struck. Once you had narrowed down the grave of the man, you sent Sam and Dean to burn his bones. In their absence you found yourself looking for the song from the radio.

There it was. A YouTube video displayed the cover art for the album as the upbeat song played. You wandered about the room, readying yourself for the night while mumbling the lyrics. The song played then moved on to one Taylor Swift song after the next for the next 35 minutes until the door to the motel room clicked open. You looked up from your notebook to see the boys walk in. Sam offered you a smile before going to the bathroom, assumingly having won the rights to the first shower. Dean raised an eyebrow at your laptop as he sat in a chair across from you.

“This the same chick from the other day?” He asked, which earned him a playful pout from you.

“Taylor Swift.” You corrected as you placed your notebook and pen inside your bag.

“My favorite singer.” You stood and took the few steps to reach him before sitting on his lap, your arms around his neck and his hands holding you securely. You placed a kiss on his cheek and grimaced at the smell.

“You stink.” You stated but made no move to get away from him. Your words were met with a pout from him, similar to the one he had received from you.

“I thought Bob Dylan was your favorite singer?” Dean asked. You shook your head and leaned into him.

“Nope. Taylor Swift.” You felt him breathe a laugh out. He continued to hold you until Sam was done with his shower, even if his leg had fallen asleep in that time.

----

“Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?”

The voice trailed out from your phone as you and Dean cuddled in bed. You had figured out how to download the song onto your device and it just so happened the first song you had heard from the blonde girl was your favorite. The lyrics reminded you of your relationship with Dean. It was the morning now and Sam had run out for breakfast. You and Dean had taken the time alone by sleepily making out and listening to music. Your music had been the winner since you were the only one with it downloaded onto your phone and your laptop was across the room.

You could tell, despite his objections to the fact, Dean was starting to enjoy some of the songs. Sure, it was because you enjoyed them, but you could have sworn that he hummed along to some of them.

You grabbed the front of his shirt in a fist as you two kissed. He held his hands on your hips to pull you into him. Your heart was beating quickly and you rolled your body up against his. There wasn’t enough time for what the both of you truly wanted to do, but that didn’t mean you could just turn it off. His response to your movements was to groan and kiss you harder. His hands trailed to your bottom and he pulled you up into him.

“Dean,” You breathed out. The music had been drowned out by the sounds of you and your lover. It was magical. His hands, his lips, all of him. Pleasure erupted where his hands touched you. It had been far too long since you had gotten to be close to him like this.

“I know, baby, I know,” Dean’s words came out in pants in between kisses. His hands were tight on you, fingers digging into your hips. You moaned into his mouth when you brushed up onto him in just the right way.

Fuck it.

That was Dean’s last thought before deciding he would be quick. He could get you off in the time it would take Sam to make it back to the room. His younger brother would have the sense to knock before coming in anyways, right? That didn’t matter in the moment as Dean disappeared under the blankets. The only thing racing around either of your heads was the need for touch. You felt him tug your shorts down, pulling your underwear with them. No time for the usual foreplay, Dean dove right into you.

His tongue dragged along your core. He groaned when he tasted you, just as sweet as he remembered. He used his tongue to lap at your entrance, causing you to curse under your breath. His nose nudged at your clit while he moved, creating an immense amount of pleasure to build up inside you. You moaned and bucked your hips up, trying to get impossibly closer to him. Dean’s response to this was to hold your hips down, his pace never slowing. The pressure from his fingers had pleasure, not pain, rippling through your body. There were sure to be bruises in the coming hours, but that was the collateral for what Dean did to your body.

God, his mouth felt heavenly. You pressed your shoulders into the pillows, needing to move. You were whimpering his name out in between moans. The sound of his name coming from your pretty little mouth only encouraged his actions. He moved his mouth like a man starved, and there were no complaints from you.

Your hands balled into fists, gripping the sheets tight enough Dean thought you were going to rip them, but he didn’t stop. That would be a problem for later Dean. Present Dean needed to feel his girl come apart under his hands. He continued to work at you, knowing when you were getting close when your breaths became shorter and quicker. The coil of an orgasm built up in your lower abdomen. You were right on the edge, ready to fall into the ocean of post-sex bliss, and the tipping point was Dean groaning into you at the feel of you fighting his hold on you. The noise reverberated through your body, making your skin goosebump at the pure desire of it.

You were trying to catch your breath while basking in the high of what Dean had done to you when the door opened. Sam, it seemed, had not known he would need to knock before entering. It was the shared room after all. He carried in a large bag full of fragrant food and a tray of coffees. Confusion bloomed across his face when he hadn’t seen his brother next to you, the emotion only increasing at the sight of the obviously empty bathroom. He turned his eyes to you, apparently not noticing the red of your cheeks.

“Where…?” Sam had begun his question, but let the rest of the sentence trail off when Dean emerged from under the blanket. His cheeks were the same red as your own, though he tried to hide this with a flash of a wide smirk. He had pulled your shorts back onto you before making his entrance, ensuring you wouldn’t accidentally flash his brother.

“Oh, gross!” Sam exclaimed and piled the food onto the table. It wasn’t as if it had been the first time he had walked in on his older brother, but it never ceased to make it less weird for him. You and Dean let out twin chuckles before joining Sam at the table for breakfast.

----

You were back in the Impala. The windows were down and the warm air of summer streamed in the windows. You let your right hand wave up and down in the wind, holding Dean’s hand in your left. His elbow rested on his own open window as he drove wordlessly, letting the music fill the car. Even Sam was quiet as he let the air that rushed into the vehicle to swish his hair around. The song - your song, as Dean liked to call it - was filling the space around your little trio. The cassette player in the car had been fixed, (turns out Dean did know what he was doing, which he boasted about for a good five minutes), but you had been checking the country radio station in between songs in the hopes that they would play the song. After a few tries, there it was, and you had been lucky enough to catch it at the beginning.

“But we got bills to pay, we got nothing figured out,” you sang along with the radio. You looked over to Dean.

“When it was hard to take, yes, yes, this is what I thought about,” Dean was, albeit very discreetly, singing along as well. A smile broke out across your face, one that caught Sam’s attention.

“Are you singing Taylor Swift, Dean?” Sam asked incredulously, a teasing tone in his voice. Dean glanced at the two of you, rolling his eyes when he saw the looks of astonishment on them. He knew there was no denying it.

“Yes, now shut up, the bridge is coming.” Dean shot back. Sure enough, the post-chorus just before the bridge was playing.

“And I remember that fight, 2:30 AM, as everything was slipping right out of hands,”

Sam had joined in on the sing-along, having the song practically memorized from the amount of times you played it. You giggled through your singing at the sound of the two men in the car with you. You all must have sounded ridiculous, three voices, four including the radio, blasted from the open windows. It didn’t matter though, you were all happy. You were all family, even if it wasn’t through blood when it came to you. You loved these boys and knew you would never want to live a day with either one of them out of your life. Dean, your true love, your soulmate, if that was even possible. Sam, your brother, your friend.

Dean pulled the back of your hand to his lips before the last line. You locked eyes with him and the rest of the world blurred away. A smile pulled the corners of your lips up. You and Dean sang the last line to each other, and though it was just a song, you both knew the lyrics to be true.

“You are the best thing that’s ever been mine.”