sylvia-plaths-fig-pie

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Nobody's soldier ♡ Sam Winchester

Running with wolves

Working my miracles

Holding my world together with a bootstring

Living the dream

Benzos and gasoline

Coffee and blue light screens till the morning

It was a bad idea.

Correction: it was Likely to be the worst idea you'd ever had. But you couldn't stop.

Not now, not yet.

The world you helped form was in dire need of assisted. Or at least there were good people suffering from no fault of there own. They didn't choose this. Its wasn't there capability to choose this level of suffering.

So you helped where you could.

You might be a soldier of God but you were a healer first and that's exactly what you did.

No one approved of what you did of course, but then again to most people it was only speculation. A roomer made to less likely for a promotion or something else extremely unimportant.

But your lowly ranking made it easier to continue and easier to brush it off at what it wasn't, just a roomer.

That is until one day.

One day Castiel finds you.

And you thought that was the end.

But it was only the beginning.

If I tell you this is drowning

You'll tell me I'm walking on water

I could bring fire from the mountain

You'd tell me it feels a little colder

"Is it true?" You were alone with Castiel and you didn't know whether to be grateful or terrified.

"I'm sorry?"

"Please tell me its true?"

"What?"

"That you help the humans, you heal them, that you know how to help them. Tell me it's true

I don't wanna choose between being a salesman or a soldier

Just let me look a little older

Let me step a little bolder

Choose between being a butcher or a pauper

Honey, I'm taking no ordеrs

Gonna be Nobody's Soldier

Humans had free will. This was a common known fact. They had to choose to follow in the paths of the righteous, it was there choice.

Angels didn't have that.

Some thought that better, you were destined to be on the right path as you had that painful choice removed. You didn't have to worry like humans did, worry if life meant something, anything.

And you never wanted it. You saw that you had a higher purpose, a calling and you never wanted to stray from that.

Or at least you never used to.

Now, well now things were complicated.

You wanted to help people, actually help people. You wanted to help one person in particular. Sam.

And that's what you did.

Every time he prayed you answered, God be damned.

You were there for him in ever hour of his need. All he needed to do was call. And you would come, every single time.

You were tired of the orders, tired of being a soldier.

Sam was 'an abomination', that's what you were told.

But you could see him for what he truly was. He was a young boy trying to so his best. Trying to save everyone, even when he knows it's impossible. Even when he knows he may die.

He had more integrity than most angels, more hope than most humans, and more kindness than you thought possible.

You were done being a soldier for God. You were done blindly following orders. You don't care what it'll cost you, you're not going to be nobody's soldier.

Sick to my skin

Watching the nеws again

Whatever you choose, you lose out in the long run

Paint on the walls

Comes down like a waterfall

The goal I was aiming for was the wrong one

Choosing to live life as your own is one thing, actually living is another.

Humans make it look so easy, so not complicated, so simple.

But it's not.

It's really, really, not.

The world makes no sense. Your lost in the world of technology and big screens and computers and AI and self service shopping machines that make life so difficult.

Everything is so complicated.

That is until Sam steps in.

Before he would pray to you for help, and that's what you would do, then reluctantly you would disappear not wanting to insert yourself or impose.

But he began to stop you just before you would leave. Asking it you wanted to go to dinner, wanted to help research and slowly, very slowly, it was like you were one of them.

Sam, of course, instantly noticed your unfamiliarity with modern technology from a very quick (and confusing) series of text messages:

Y: Is this the inbox of Sam Winchester?

S: who is this?

Y: You know me Sam Winchester.

S: okay who is it

Y: I am on the other side of the phone.

S: ???

Y: Why the question marks if you asked no question, that is my question to you, why the question marks Sam Winchester?

S: seriously who is this

Y: Sam Winchester it is I, do you really not know me? I thought we shared a connection. Did I presume wrong Sam Winchester?

Pretty soon after that exchange, he realized it was you, he called you. Which only slightly eased the confusion. It was from that moment in that he decided to teach you about the world, more specifically technology.

You watched the news with him every morning to learn about the world, it scared you. Maybe humans aren't as far removed from monsters as they think, you wonder every morning. But then again every morning your met with Sam's kind smile which eases your thoughts.

Sam also teaches you how to use a computer, which takes surprisingly long but once you get the hang of it you're unstoppable.

"Sam?" You asked to get his attention, "did you know that on the internet there is so many cat videos which you can watch?" You were shocked and exited, the most excited he's ever seen you, and he couldn't help but smile in return.

"Show me." He said as he made his way to sit beside you, his hand comfortably resting in your thigh.

And that's what you did.... for three hours.

You showed him cat videos.

But Sam didn't watch them, not really. He was too busy watching the way you smiled at the screen, the way you unapologetically laughed, the way you constantly turned to him to get his opinion after every video, and every single time he couldn't help but smile back at you.

If I say that this is drowning

You'll tell me I'm walking on water

I could bring fire from the mountain

You'd tell me it feels a little colder

"We can't do this Sam."

You didn't mean it, of course you didn't mean it, not really anyways.

You wanted all of him, unashamedly, yet you couldn't, you wouldn't.

"It's wrong, it shouldn't we shouldn't. I-"

"We shouldn't what?" he cut you off, his voice soft and full of sincerity, "We can't do what?" he pressed his voice filled with kindness, kindness that you wished for once would be anger. At least that way you'd have a way to leave. But that wasn't Sam, not to you anyway. "And it aches, and you when you smile I feel different, when your near I feel sick in a good way which I was told is 'butterflies' though I'm not sure how they entered and frankly I don't want to know—"

"it's a figure of speech love." he smiled, that godforsaken smile.

"See!" you cried, your hands flailing in frustration. "There, that," you continued, pointing at him, "you say stuff and I feel it and I shouldn't, I can't, I won't!"

"Are you saying we're more than friends?"

"Stop being so complicated Sam Winchester!" You snapped throwing your hands up in exasperation. "I don't know and frankly I don't understand, whatever it is we need to stop it because-"

Before you could say another word, Sam’s hand shot out, gently cupping your face as he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was sudden, passionate, and everything you'd been holding back. His lips were firm against yours, cutting off the rest of your words, silencing the doubts that had been circling in your mind.

His hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, deepening the kiss as if he was showing you, without words, what you both already knew. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively as his kiss conveyed everything he couldn’t say aloud.

He pulled away breathlessly, looking into your eyes. "We can make it work, we've survived worse together." he assured you.

you stared at him eyes wide, the gravity of what had just happened hitting you all at once. "We can't."

"Why? I know you trust me and I know that sometimes we don't fully understand each other, but right here and now we do. do you know why?"

"why?" you asked.

"because I love you." Sam whispers, his breath warm against your ear, “I’ve always loved you, even when I didn’t understand it, even when I thought it was impossible. I’ve always known. And now you know too.”

You close the space between you, pressing your lips against his in a quiet promise. When you pull away, your heart feels lighter, and for once, the world outside doesn’t matter.

"I love you too Sam Winchester"

I don't wanna choose between being a salesman or a soldier

Just let me look a little older

Let me step a little bolder

Choose between being a butcher or a pauper

Honey, I'm taking no orders

Gonna be Nobody's Soldier

The hunt was over, the vampires were dust, and you and Sam stood side by side, back-to-back as you wiped off the last traces of blood from your hands. There was no need for words, just the unspoken bond of a battle fought together. Dean was there too, lingering near the car, keeping a watchful eye from a distance. But the way Sam's hand brushed yours, how he leaned in just enough to let you know he was there, that was all that mattered.

As you two walked back toward the Impala, Dean tossed a questioning glance between the two of you but didn’t ask. He never did. Instead, he clapped Sam on the back with a teasing grin. “You two going to need a minute alone?”

You rolled your eyes, but Sam simply smiled. “Maybe.” And the way he looked at you said everything.

Mmm being a butcher (Nobody's Soldier)

Or a pauper (Nobody's Soldier)

I'm gonna (Nobody's Soldier)

I'm gonna be Nobody's soldier

The hunt had taken its toll, leaving you physically and emotionally drained. But tonight, something was different between you and Sam. It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was the way his presence seemed to fill the space, drawing you in closer with every passing second.

He stood closer than usual, his shoulder brushing against yours as you worked. You both knew this wasn’t by accident. The tension was undeniable.

As you entered the room, Sam shut the door behind him, his gaze locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, searching.

Your heart pounded, and you nodded, your voice trembling. “I’m sure.”

His hand touched your face, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead before he kissed you—slow, deliberate, and full of everything unspoken. There was no hesitation as you kissed him back, pulling him closer, feeling the depth of the connection you’d both denied for so long.

Sam’s hands roamed to your waist, pulling you against him, the heat of his body melting your doubts. His breath was heavy, his eyes dark. “Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His kisses grew more urgent, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, exposing your skin to the cool air. The contrast of the chill and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, but the fire between you was undeniable.

With every kiss, every touch, you realized this was about more than just desire. It was trust. It was love. It was about finally being seen. And in that moment, you both knew that, together, you were no longer soldiers—just you.

I don't wanna choose between being a salesman or a soldier

Stand here, just let me look a little older

Let me step a little bolder

Choose between being a butcher or a pauper

Honey, I'm taking no orders

Gonna be Nobody's Soldier

You'd gotten what you wanted.

You had free will.

You had the man of your dreams, a dream you didn't know existed until you met him.

But sometimes you couldn't help but feel guilty.

You started this because you didn't want to be somebody's soldier, you were going to be nobody's soldier, feel from orders, politics and chaos.

But some how in the haze and longing to be free, you'd tethered your self down. Locked yourself in a cadge. Fighting for people's survival, training on mission for another.

We're you doing more good now or before?

Are you really nobodies soldier or did you just switch masters?

Sam would always do his best to ease your concerns, but even when he held you close at night, even when he kissed you so softly you found yourself questioning how you ended up here and if you were really just a pawn in their game of chess, their battle with God.

Notes: I haven't watched like s4 or 5 in a while so this is very not cannon accurate but oh wellll I'm sorry aha, also this was supost to be out on the 16th.... sorry for the delays life kinda got in the way aha

NOTE 2: lmfao i wrote that note like pre uni and now i'm nearly 6 months in... yous have missed a few chapters. anywas i finnished this and never posted it and i felt a random wave of guilt mid rehersals (yes im doing a law degree, a musical and a play all at once and actually have a social life, no i dont sleep), so here it is, tada. it hasn't been proof read as I would cringe lmao but yeah. i'm not back guys I'm living an irl fanfiction with my partner (we're going stargazing tonight after rehersals lmao), but i'll attempt to be active when i get time, you never know I might post pictures from macbeth if anyone wants to see them ahaha. anywasy im going to love you and leave you, and if you read all of this then ur a nosey bugger and i respect it xoxo

word count: 3,773

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Guys I'm back (not really tho rip)

I'm a law student with 100 things to do and writing for fun really isn't an option right now:(

I've also became less obsessed with fictional men... (I've found a real life one that was deffo written by a woman)

Anyways, I'll still be reading and reblogging if I have time, but being very active really isn't an option for me right now.

Sending love xx

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Oh???

I'm in the library right now I can't be blushing like this. Public law isn't sexy but sammy sure is oh my freaking God!!!

pull it to the side ⥁ s. winchester

summary: sam wants to try something out.

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem reader, [can be read as gn afab! reader]

word count: 1.3K

warnings: MINORS DNI, hint of dom/sub dynamics, oral fem! receiving, biting, slight choking, smug sam, porn w/out plot, no use of y/n, kinda edited

a/n: uhh hi guys this came out of nowhere but it was sparked because of guess by charlie xcx and billie so yeah here it is loll [also the title is a lyric from the song]

anyways enjoy! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me loll!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You and Sam all but stumbled into the room, lips attached to one other as you guys hastily pawed at each other, eager to get rid of the troublesome clothes on your bodies. Through the haze of lust, you could tell that you were being pushed back, and you had landed on the edge of the bed. Your lips had finally separated from Sam’s for the first time since you entered the room. 

Your naked chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath underneath Sam’s hungry gaze. You were already so fucked out, and Sam hadn’t done anything but overwhelm you with his kisses and insistent hands. You were stripped naked, barring your underwear, which had yet to be taken off and practically soaked through with your arousal, making the soft white color of the panties almost translucent. 

Sam’s large form loomed over you, making you lean back until your bare back hit the sheets of the bed. Sam’s lips were pulled into a salacious smirk as he hovered over you, his hips slotting in between your open legs. You let out a soft moan as you felt the rough denim of his jeans rut against your clothed core. 

You saw Sam’s lips twitch up further before planting soft, teasing kisses across your jaw and cheek before capturing your lips between his. His tongue breached your mouth instantly, swiping his tongue against yours and making your brain go haywire as his warm hands roamed over your thighs and hips until one of them made it to one of your breasts and started to knead it. A keening whine left your mouth as he pinched the hardened nub in between his fingers. 

A low chuckle rumbled in Sam’s chest. “God, I love your noises.” He mumbled against your lips before biting the bottom one gently. 

His lips left yours, and he skimmed his lips down your jaw with a feather-light touch as he kissed and nipped at your neck. Sam filled your senses as you felt his mouth trail lower and lower, kissing and biting anywhere he could. You knew you would be covered in small bruises and bite marks by the time Sam was done with you, but you couldn’t give a single shit about it at the moment as you felt his breath ghost against your lower belly as he sunk in between your open legs. 

“Fuck.” Sam breathed out when he saw the state of your underwear. “You’re soaking, aren’t you sweetheart?” You could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he left sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. 

One of your hands made its way into his hair, brushing the hair away from his forehead while the other gripped the sheets next to you tightly. When you met his eyes, the hazel in them was non-existent as they were overtaken by the lust that had taken over any rational he had. 

“S’all for you.” You managed to rasp out. 

“All for me?” The smirk that was on his face could have rivaled the devil’s as he sucked a mark into your plush inner thigh. Sam all but shoved his face into your crotch; you felt him take a deep inhale of your clothed cunt and let out a groan. “You smell so good.”

A soft whimper left your lips as his lips kissed your covered mound through your underwear. Sam started to lap at your cunt through the soaked material, making it even wetter. 

“Fuck.” He said with a grunt. “You’re so wet. I can taste you through your underwear.” Sam went from licking to kissing at your clit. 

You could feel how your underwear was stuck to your cunt like a second skin. Low moans and whines left your parted lips as Sam mouthed at your cunt, licking and kissing at it with your soaked panties acting as the only barrier between your dripping core and his mouth. 

One of Sam’s hands left your thigh to pull the material of your underwear taut against you, making a small yelp escape your mouth at the new sensation. 

Sam pulled away for a moment. “Bet if I could make you cum just like this.” He said to himself, tugging the underwear tighter against you.  

You tugged at the strands on top of his head, making Sam look up at your shaking head. “Take them off.” You pouted at him. 

You moved the hand that wasn’t in Sam’s hair off of the bed and to the waistband of your underwear. Sam acted quickly and used his free hand to grab your wrist and pin it back down on the bed. 

Sam moved from his spot between your legs to hover over you, your hand falling from his hair as he shook his head and looked at you with a stern glare.

He clicked his tongue at you. “You’re not in charge tonight.” 

You couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face. Before you could even blink, both of your wrists were pinned above your head in one of Sam’s hands on the headboard while the other wrapped around the base of your neck loosely. 

“You wanna act like a brat tonight? Because I’ll treat you like one.” Sam’s nostrils flared as he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against yours, and you held his fiery gaze. 

You shook your head at him. “Wanna be your good girl.” 

“Then you’ll take what I give you.” The hand that was at the base of your neck moved up to wrap around your neck, but he didn’t put any pressure on it. A small whimper left your lips at the feeling of Sam’s big hand around your throat. 

Sam sent you a dark smirk before kissing you fast and hard. “Keep them there.” He squeezed your wrists before slinking down your body until he was face-to-face with your covered cunt again. He pulled your underwear hard against you and wasted no time trying to get you to cum. 

You wished you could feel his talented tongue against your bare cunt, but pleasure still surged through you as you felt him press his tongue hard against you and focused on your clothed clit. Sam managed to suck at it through the fabric, making you buck against his mouth. You could feel the familiar heat brew in your lower belly as Sam continued his ministrations. You were writhing on the bed, trying to keep your hands against the headboard as you tried to grind against Sam’s face. 

Sam threw an arm around your hips, keeping you in place as he ate you out like a man starved. Loud moans erupted from the back of your throat as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. 

Sam could tell you were getting close. “You gonna cum, pretty girl?” 

“Yes!” You gasped.” Pl-please let me cum.” You all but whined out, tears welling up in your eyes. You were so worked up, and all you wanted was for Sam to let you cum and finally fuck you. 

Sam chuckled against you, the vibrations making the warmth in your core even hotter. “Gonna make you cum.” He doubled down, wanting to make you cum as soon as possible. 

You were covered in a sheen of sweat as you felt the band in your core become tighter and tighter. Sam took your clit and sucked on it hard, biting it lightly, and the band snapped. Your mouth was open in a silent moan as pleasure racked through your body. Sam mouthed at your soaked-through underwear as you came down, shiny with his spit and your cum. 

Sam planted soft kisses up your body and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips when you finally calmed down. You let out a low moan as you tasted yourself against his slick-covered lips. You didn’t realize that your eyes had closed until they fluttered open to see Sam’s satisfied smile. 

“Told you I could make cum with them on.” 

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Ahhhh stoppppp I love this so so much oml!!!!

all maroon ∗∗ s. winchester

summary: your day was long but at least sam's here to make you feel better

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, stanford sam winchester x gn afab! reader

word count: 2.7K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', mentions of periods, no mention of gender besides reader having a menstrual cycle, fluff, kissing, making out

a/n: this was purely a self indulgent fic from the shit show of a day i had yesterday and i wish it had turned out to be like this instead of what actually happened, title is a lyric from flume by bon iver

anyways enjoy! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me loll!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

From the moment you woke up, you knew today was going to be a rough one. First, you had gotten your period as soon as you woke up to your alarm, and it leaked through your underwear, and your sheets were stained with your blood. You cursed under your breath and swiftly tore off your sheets and threw them in the washer before you quickly grabbed new underwear and the outfit that you had picked out the night before and took a quick shower. 

After you were showered and changed, you maybe had fifteen to twenty minutes to make your breakfast and pack lunch and dinner before you had to leave your apartment to find adequate parking and before your class started.

You lived about fifteen minutes away from Stanford since you couldn’t afford housing after your first year there and found an affordable apartment for yourself. Your mom and dad helped pay half of your rent while you worked on campus to help pay for the rest of the rent. You were at Stanford on a scholarship that covered tuition. You had financial aid to cover the rest, like books, school supplies, and groceries, and you put the rest of that money into your savings account. 

You left your apartment on time, but as soon as you hit the freeway, there was traffic that seemed to stretch on for miles. Apparently, there was construction being done in one of the lanes, and you spent thirty minutes in traffic before you made it to the parking lot with only minutes to spare before your class started. You lucked out on finding a parking spot quickly, and you all but sprinted to your class. It didn’t help that today was your busiest day, having two classes before your shift at the library and then one last class that went until nine o’clock at night. 

You were grateful that you had some gaps in between your classes, so you had time to eat lunch and do homework. But today, it seemed like God hated you because you didn’t have enough time to eat lunch since you had to type up a paper that you forgot you had assigned for the class you had tomorrow. You barely finished the paper before you were off to your next class. Once your second class was over, you made your way to the library for your shift, and you scarfed down your lunch, which was just a plain sandwich you had made that morning before you left. 

It felt like you couldn’t catch a break. It didn’t help that today was also the day that your boyfriend was busy with class, so you wouldn’t be able to see him until you were done with your shift. Even then, you would see him for a few minutes before you were whisked away to warm up your dinner and him to his dorm, where he’d study for the rest of the night. 

You were lucky that your shift today was slow, and you didn’t have much to do besides sit at the front desk and help students who needed assistance. Time flew by faster than you could even imagine as you were working on some homework from another class when someone rang the little bell at the front desk, making you look up from your laptop. 

Sam was looking as cute as ever, grinning at you as he gripped one of the straps on his shoulder. “Hey, I was wondering if you could help me look for something?” He said, a playful glint in his eyes. 

Sam’s smile was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Yeah, what were you looking for exactly?” You smirked, deciding to play along with him. 

Sam leaned down and rested his elbows on the tall check-in desk, getting to your eye level on the tall chair you were sitting on. “Yeah, I need help finding a way out of your eyes.” A cheeky smile grew on his face as he spoke. 

You pursed your lips before snorting loudly, slapping your hand over your mouth. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you laughed, trying to keep down the noise in the quiet atmosphere of the library. You saw a slight red hue begin to grow on Sam’s cheeks as he snickered alongside you. 

“You’re such a dork, you know that?” You told him after you calmed down.

“Yeah, well I’m your dork.” 

You nodded. “That you are.” You leaned over the desk and pinched his cheek like a grandmother would her grandchild. “A really adorable one at that.” You cooed out before laughing lightly when he swatted your hand away and rubbed his reddened cheek. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” Sam grumbled out, acting like he was irked by it, but you could see a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Awe, but it’s so cute seeing you all flustered.” You pouted before planting a quick kiss on the cheek you just pinched. “All better now?” 

Sam ducked his head down as a bashful smile grew on his face. You grinned at his shyness; you found it so endearing even after the two of you had been dating for a couple of months. 

“So, you’re here early.” You say as you sit back in your chair. 

Sam looked back at you and swiped the hairs that were falling into his face. “Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you before your shift ended.” 

“Well,” You glanced down at the watch Sam was wearing. “My shift is officially over now. But what’s up?” You asked him as you started to clean up the front desk of some of the homework you were working on. 

“I just wanted to know if you’re going back to your parents for the weekend?” 

You shook your head as you zipped up your backpack. “No, I’m swamped with homework and studying, so I told them that I’d visit next weekend.” Even if you were craving a home-cooked meal from your mom and wanted to see your parents, you needed to finish the work that your professors had assigned. 

You slung your backpack over your shoulders and rounded the desk to stand in front of Sam. You took a glance at the clock hanging on the nearby wall and winced. 

“I hate to cut this short, but I have to go and warm up my food if I want to eat before my last class.” You internally groaned at the thought of being stuck in a two-and-a-half-hour lecture. 

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but you had pushed up on your toes and pecked Sam’s lips before leaving him, clocking out, and leaving the library. What you didn’t see as you left was Sam shaking his head and smiling to himself as he went further into the library to study for a bit before heading back to his dorm. 

After speeding into the dining hall to warm up the leftovers you had from last night in the microwaves, you sat down at a table to eat but also worked on your homework. You were periodically looking at the time on your laptop to make sure you had enough time to eat and make it to your class fifteen minutes before it started. Once you had finished your dinner and most of the homework you were working on, you made your way to your next class. 

It was a short walk from the dining hall to the classroom where the lecture was being held. You went into the room, and it was empty. You felt your eyebrows furrow. There are usually some people in here already. You thought to yourself as you decided to leave the classroom.

A flash of white caught your eye as the door to the classroom closed, and there was a notice that today’s class was canceled. You let out a sigh of relief, but you could feel irritation brewing in your chest as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.  

The urge to let out a frustrated scream was at an all-time high, but you managed to turn away from the sheet of paper that seemed to mock you and left the building. The cool September air hit your heated cheeks as you walked through the quad, trying to tamp down the irrational emotions that were bubbling up to the surface. 

As much as you liked that class was canceled, you were mentally prepared to be in the room for a good two hours. Getting that heads up fifteen minutes before class was supposed to start was just the cherry on top of your already long day. You had a feeling that if you checked your student email, your professor would have emailed the entire class to say that it was canceled. If you were going to be honest, you just wanted to be put out of your misery. 

You were so out of it as you walked through the quad, and your feet led you to Sam’s dorm building. You were able to slip in with no problem, as someone had held the door open for you as they left and made your way to Sam’s room.

You tiredly knocked on the door. It swung open, and you didn’t even bother greeting your boyfriend as you brushed past him and into his room. You slung off your backpack, landing haphazardly on the ground with a quiet thud. You kicked your shoes off before launching your tired body face-first onto his bed. 

You felt the bed dip as Sam sat on it and placed his hand on your head. “Uhh, not that I’m not happy that you’re here, but I thought you had class right now.” 

You groaned loudly into his pillow, the noise muffled by the fabric, and you sat up on his bed, his hand falling from your head as you moved. You adjusted yourself so you were sitting in the middle of his bed with your knees pulled to your chest as you looked at your slightly confused boyfriend. 

“It got canceled.” You grumbled out as you picked at the hole in your jeans. 

“Hence why you’re here?” Sam moved his hand from the bed and wrapped it around your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin. 

You nodded, and Sam hummed in response. “Long day?” He asked as he looked you over, seeing how exhausted you were. 

“You don’t even know half of it.” You huffed out before falling sideways on his bed, your head hitting his pillow. 

Sam frowned. He didn’t like seeing you upset. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I think if I talk about my day, I’ll need you to shoot me point blank.” 

Sam’s eyebrows raised high as he looked at you surprised. “Uh, I’m not going to do that. But talking about it might make you feel better.” 

You shook your head as you reached for his wrist and tugged him towards you. “I don’t wanna. Just want to cuddle right now.” 

Sam huffed a laugh through his nose as a small smile grew on his face. He let you tug him closer and climbed on the bed. Sam settled on the bed next to you as you kicked your feet out from their curled position and shuffled closer to him. Your legs intertwined with his as he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Lift your head for me.” Sam murmured to you. 

You did as he said, and he wrapped his other around your head, cushioning it as you laid on his bicep and his hand rested on your back. Once you both were settled, you let out a contented sigh as you stared at Sam’s hazel eyes. Your face was so close to his that you felt his breath fan over your face. 

“Did I interrupt your studying?” You asked him with a quiet voice, realizing that you very much could have distracted him because of your moody attitude. 

He shook his head. “No, I had just finished when you came in.” Sam gave you a half smile before tipping his chin up to kiss your forehead. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your day?” He muttered against your skin. 

“No, I’d much rather hear about yours.” 

Sam pulled back slightly and raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure?” 

You nodded. You felt marginally better from when you came in as you were in Sam’s arms. 

Sam’s expression was one of ‘okay then’ before he jumped into talking about his day, and you listened to your boyfriend with a slight smile on your face. You snuggled deep into his embrace and eventually moved your head to rest in the crook of his neck. 

“Are you still listening?” Sam asked as he felt you smile against his neck. 

“Mhm. Just keep talking.” 

Sam let out a small chuckle at your antics and continued to talk about what he had seen while walking to his last class of the day. You breathed in Sam’s comforting scent; the notes of citrus, mint, mahogany, and something that was just distinctly Sam filled your senses, and you could feel the tenseness leave your body. 

Sam was still talking, but you weren’t exactly listening, and you couldn’t resist kissing the small freckle on his neck. He suddenly stopped talking as you planted soft kisses on the warm skin of his neck. Sam let out a soft noise as you nipped at his pulse point, moved his hand that was on your back to your neck, and pulled away from you slightly. 

“What are you doing?” You could see the corners of Sam’s lips twitching as he asked you the question. 

“Kissing your neck.” You stated it as if it was obvious because it was. 

“What happened to listening to my day?”

“Can’t I multitask?” 

Sam laughed at the serious face you made as you said it, and you couldn’t help but break your serious facade and laugh along with him. Your foul mood was finally melting away. 

Sam rested his forehead against yours as he calmed down, staring deep into your eyes. “I love you.” He said softly. 

You couldn’t help the tender smile stretching across your lips. “I love you too.” 

Sam grinned before kissing you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into the warm feeling of Sam’s soft lips against yours. The hand that was on your neck had moved to cup your cheek, and his arm tightened around your waist as he deepened the kiss. The world faded around you as you got lost in Sam as he moved his lips against yours. Sam managed to push you on your back as he was slotted in between your legs. Your hands found themselves in his hair as the soft kiss turned into a passionate makeout. 

Sam consumed your senses as his tongue swiped your bottom lip, and you let him in with a little fight as his tongue played and swirled with yours. A slight noise that was akin to a whine left your lips as his lips left yours. Sam didn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours, but you realized that you were out of breath, and the two of you were panting against each other’s lips.

A blissful smile was on Sam’s face as he hovered over you. His lips were slightly swollen and slick with spit from the two of you kissing, and you couldn’t help but kiss him softly. Sam smiled against you before melting into your kiss. The kiss didn’t last long as you pulled away, Sam chasing your lips for a moment, making you let out a little giggle. Sam’s eyes were alight with joy as he heard your laugh. 

Sam couldn’t hold back and planted soft kisses on your forehead, nose, and cheeks before giving you a sweet but chaste kiss on your lips and pulling away from you. You all but sunk into the affection that Sam was showering you in, but then you started to pout when he moved from on top of you to next to you and pulled you into his side. 

He kissed your temple before the two of you settled in comfortable silence, content with just being by each other’s sides. You had no clue how long you guys stayed like that until you dozed off in Sam’s arms. The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was Sam's lips on your cheek and wrapping his arms tighter around you. 

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Ahhhh omggg.

I haven't been online for so long, and I'm blessed that this is the first thing I encountered!!!

Eveything about this is stunning, breathtaking, heartbreaking, ur writing oh my god!!

₊˚⊹♡ in a week | sam winchester x reader

based on the song in a week by hozier

a/n - i’ve been wanting to write this fic for SO long and i know it’s kinda short but i’m happy with how it turned out!! in a week is my favourite hozier song and honestly one of my favourite songs of all time and aaagh i just had to write something for it, i hope you like it!!

cws - fem!reader, 1.4k, character death, fatal injuries, blood, process of dying, hurt/comfort, mentions of heaven

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Sam knew as soon as he hit the floor that he wouldn’t be getting up again.

It was strange, how the cold of the air made his blood seem almost hot against his skin, staining his rapidly paling flesh with a deep red he’d seen far too many times it was a wonder it hadn’t become his favourite colour. His favourite colour was actually green, natural and calming, far from the monsters and grime of his day to day life, closer to the comfort of his brother’s eyes and his own whenever he looked in the mirror and knew that he was okay. The damp grass beneath him was green, and though he wasn’t okay, having her at his side somehow made it all alright.

There was blood on her too, not too dissimilar to his own injuries. They’d both been in the clutches of death far too many times for the feeling of the tiredness that had started to cling to their bones not to be similar, but it was the first time Sam had ever felt comfortable over the whole thing.

With her laid at his side, it felt almost peaceful.

“Come here, sweetheart,” his arm lifted to tuck around her and that was enough for him to wince at the movement through he just grit his teeth through it until her body was pressed up against his, slotted together amongst the damp grass and the flowers of the early spring nature. “That’s it, there we go.”

It had been a while since they’d both gotten to the floor. There had been a silent understanding in the fact that neither of them would return to their feet, that they would spend their final moments by each others side with the bugs and the dirt. Sam could list numerous times that he had been fearful of her life, had done everything he could to save her, because he simply couldn’t live without her, couldn’t let her die alone.

Bodies held against each other, blood mixed and soaked into the earth, they weren’t alone.

“Stars are out,” her voice trembled, far too breathy, but she still sounded so pretty. The same voice that whispered in his ear to wake him up and the last thing he heard before he fell asleep. Sam had always admired foreshadowing and the beauty behind it. “Look, it’s—” her breath stuttered on her next inhale and his hand easily found hers, cold skin pressed to cold skin, clinging with what little strength they both had, a silent comfort, encouragement. “—it’s Orion’s Belt.” She finished, and though Sam couldn’t quite make out the individual constellations through his blurred vision, he was happy to enlighten her regardless.

“It’s pretty,” he murmured, blinking up at the beads of light that blurred and warped in his vision, before his head tilted to look at her instead. Even as his vision broke down slightly, he could picture her features. The shape of her nose, her lips, the colour of her eyes, eyelashes that tickled her cheeks as she blinked or laughed or smiled at him. It was enough to bring a smile to his face and he leaned in to kiss her temple. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her breathing hitched, a wet catch in her chest, and he didn’t need to see the tears in her eyes to know that she’d started crying. Sam had known her for so long that she had become a part of him, her soul intertwined with his in golden string, so he knew all of her mannerisms and sounds. The tears weren’t for panic or pain, something closer along the lines of contempt, tears that settled with acceptance.

“I love you,” the words practically heaved out of her chest and her fingers trembled in his as she struggled to tighten her grip much. He had felt in real time as the strength in her body bled out along with the crimson that stained her clothed and skin. It would have been frightening if not for the way his own strength had left him, evaporating with every heavy exhale. “Sam, I—” another struggled breath, another significantly weakened squeeze to her hand. “—you’re my home.”

Sam didn’t realise that his fingers had started going numb until he lifted his free hand up to cup the side of her face, a cheek usually flushed with colour now just paled hidden beneath his palm as he held her. And despite the way his vision blurred, with tears that time, he smiled at her. It took a lot more effort than he liked though he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, lips soft and shaky breaths as he kissed her, pouring all of his affection and feelings into her mouth along with their last kiss. “I love you.”

When Sam laid back against the grass again, he knew he wouldn’t sit up again.

There was so much he could have said, so many words and kisses he could have given her in that moment, but as he glanced down at her once more, felt the heaving of her chest with each breath, it all felt unspoken. He was comfortable to lay at her side, he felt loved. Sam had often wondered over the years how he would finally be taken out, but in the arms of his lover in a field of grass under a pretty sky was better than anything he could have imagined. He couldn’t have pictured a calmer or more secure way than sealing his last breaths in the touch of his lover.

Their flesh was colder, paler, and if he had the energy in him he supposed he would have started shivering. The night was cold, a remainder of the biting winter freeze that was slowly being melted by the spring. Whenever the sun came up everything would warm, though Sam wasn’t sure if he’d see the next sunrise. His heartbeat was slowing, he knew hers was too.

“I’ll find you,” he promised softly, words more breath than voice, blinking through tears that felt hot on his cold cheeks as he struggled to squeeze her fingers. “If we don’t get there together I’ll find you, honey.”

A soft sniffle at his side. “You’d better, Winchester.”

Sam smiled, wet and shaking, tears fell when he couldn’t squeeze her hand anymore.

He supposed that it would take some time for them to be found, in a week or so. The field wasn’t really near anywhere populated. They’d be accustomed to the local wildlife and the bugs in the ground before their bodies were discovered, but there was a comfort in knowing she’d be at his side through it all.

Hours, they must have laid there in each others arms for, or years, Sam couldn’t really tell. Her hand was still tucked away in his by the time the sky started to glow orange and it made him smile softly, a final sunrise. They’d spent countless mornings on the road or on cases together, stole small moments away to appreciate the sight.

“Look, sweetheart,” he breathed, a struggle in itself to tilt his head towards hers. “Look at that.”

Only once he’d blinked through the film of tears the sight of her eyelids instead of her irises was unmistakable. Curled into his side, her hand tucked into his, she looked like she had done every morning at his side for the better part of his life. Only she was cold and pale, and her chest wasn’t moving anymore.

“Honey?”

She stayed still, a perfect imitation of beauty at his side, tucked amongst flowers and green grass, she looked so pretty.

The sound that left him was wet and shuddery, though somewhere in his mind he was thankful that she had left first, she could hold the door open for him.

With what little strength he had left Sam curled on his side, her body completely pressed up against his as his head dropped, forehead pressed to hers, hand still and discreet in hers. A deep breath left his lungs, and they didn’t expand again.

Their bodies were found in a week, at home with each other amongst the flowers.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

I am just reposting to prove I am, in fact kinda alive and will be back online properly in a little bit (maybe)

Quiet days ♡ Sam Winchester

Moments like this were rare.

Moments where the world stopped for just a moment, and it felt like maybe, just maybe there was peace and quiet. Well, almost anyways.

You knew what awaited you when you woke up. You knew there would be a mew string of bodies, and other salt and burn or a demonic possession. But right now you were being selfish. You'd earnt it, or at least that's what you tell yourself in order to enjoy these moments.

Sam was still asleep, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist, his hair slightly messy, an imperceptible smile on his face.

It was rare moments like these that you longed for.

It had been almost three months exactly since you and Sam actually admitted how you felt about eachother. It was years in the making. But then one night after a particularly hard hitting case everything was laid out. You finally showed hom your cards.

And that was the fist time Sam Winchester kissed you.

His lips soft and delicate, trying to communicate everything that he couldn't say, eveything that was simply too much for words to convey. Years of longing and hope finally came to fruition.

It had been bliss ever since. Well, as much bliss as can be afforded on the road. But you had eachother, and that was all that mattered.

"What you thinking about?" Sam mumbled pulling you closer to him woth his arm tucked around your waist as he placed a kiss on your hair.

"Nothin'," you sighed, surrendering yourself to his embrace.

"Love?" The name rolled of his tongue as if he'd been calling you this his whole life, it still made you blush, maybe that's why he always called you love. "Talk to me, even if it's utter nonsense I still want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

You turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes.

"It's just, this is all I ever wanted," you paused, drinking in his early morning smile, "The white picket fence, kids and a dog, the perfect life, a normal career. All of it means nothing if I dint have moments like this with you. Moments of slow peaceful bliss."

His eyes softened as he began to smile.

"God I love you," he mumbled as he tilted his head to kiss you.

His lips brushing yours for just a second when you began to pull away.

He began to pout, gazing at you with his infamous puppy dog eyes that made you simply melt. "what?" He questioned, feigning hurt.

"Brush your teeth, you have morning breath." You commented, smiling ever so softly.

He rolled his eyes and groaned at your remark as his head fell back onto the pillows melodramatically.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled tucking his head into the cruck of you neck pulling you impossibly closer.

Moments like this may be rare, but they were one of the most precious thing in the world, second only to the brunet man who lay beside you and saw his whole world when he looked in your eyes.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

I cried reading this its so wholesome tf

Drugs in ur writing istg

motel room, 10:00 p.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, injury mentions, feelings of guilt, pet names (honey), 545 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ open ] .

summary : sam feels guilty that he accidentally got you hurt during a hunt.

“it’s not your fault, sam,” you murmur softly. he’s kneeling at your feet, on the ugly patterned motel room rug, and carefully cleaning the gash on your stomach. it stings, and when he can afford to, he holds your hand tenderly. your other hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing when you need to.

your calves rest against the edge of the mattress, and sam’s face is guilty.

“it is, though, honey. and i know that. you know it, too,” he counters, voice revealing how upset he is. it was a choice he made that got you hurt.

“but it’s okay,” you press. “everything’s okay. i’m okay. it happens. we all get hurt sometimes and there’s no way for us to predict everything that will happen. neither of us knew what would happen. and it’s really not that bad.”

he looks up at you with a pained expression and sorry eyes. “i still don’t like it,” he shakes his head. “you still got hurt. that’s not nothing.”

you bring your hand from his shoulder and smooth it gently over the side of his head. “i know it’s not nothing,” you whisper. he feels the way you do when he gets hurt, even just a little, only worse because he’s blaming himself. “but it’s still okay. i know… i know you worry that something… worse might have happened, but it didn’t. i know you’re scared of getting me hurt, but we can’t focus on that, and you know it. we know what we’re doing, but accidents happen. and that’s okay.”

sam sighs heavily, hanging his head for a moment. he presses a light kiss to your left knee. “i know,” he breathes out, not quite wanting to let himself off the hook, but knowing that you dislike when he blames himself for anything. he places gauze over the cut, carefully securing it there with medical tape. his steady hands, gentle touch, and calloused fingertips are always a welcome, familiar sensation as they press into the skin of your torso. 

when he’s done, he doesn’t stand, but takes hold of your hand and places the other over your clothed knee. you don’t move either, just squeeze his hand and make no attempt to pull your shirt back on.

it’s ten p.m. and dark outside. the thick curtains are mostly closed, but leave a small open slit to reveal the night sky and dark parking lot outside. the moon was visible through that opening half an hour ago, but you two were still in the car then. you had watched it through the window, and it followed you to the motel.

“i’m okay,” you murmur again, always for his benefit. “i promise. c’mon.” you slip to the very edge of the bed and tug at his hand lightly.

he stands as you urge him to, keeping your hand in his and shifting the other to firmly hold your hip as a support while he brings you up to stand with him. sam looks at you with soft eyes that silently ask your intentions.

“you go shower and then help me get cleaned up without getting this wet, alright?” you gently instruct, voice hushed. sometimes sam needs quiet and gentle, and you’re the person that gives it to him.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Made out with ny ex three days ago... degicmdes to flirt with a girl I front of me. I guess that heart ti heart we had wasn't so truthful after all.

Yes im drunk writing this. Yes I vaped fir the first time. Yes we dated for a year and have been broen up for q while. Yes I've loved him for three years. Yeah a broke up with him. Was it acsual when u told me u never stoped loving me? Was it casual when we made out when everyone else was asleep? Was it casual when u msged me everyday?

Lol I left him kn opened and he doesn't care. I hate men. I cat wait to move to uni istg.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

You’re telling me I’M supposed to work on my WIP??

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Currently crying listening to the Waitress sound track... like fuckkkkkkk

You matter to me makes me bawl my eyes out every time istg and don't even get me started on she used to be mine...

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

in another world im writing. i mean i could be writing in this one too but alas i have tumblr posts to see

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

I may have writers block rn but I can assure you that miss 'y/n' reader girlie will never 'giggle' she will be teheing for no-one in my fics. My great sense of second hand embarrassment can not handle it. The word actually triggers my fight or flight for some reason.

"You giggled" NO TF I DID NOT

I shall tehe for no one. I may bark, beg, get on my knees, but giggle... GIGGLE? I draw the line.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

the language of love isn't dead — dean winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, frenemies to lovers, petty arguments, ft. sam!, dean is annoying obviously <3, reader speaks latin (i used google translate and it is probably very wrong lol), kissing, one mention of a sexual innuendo, a few joking death threats, non-serious mentions of choking, poorly edited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : you tend to compliment dean in the dead language of latin after fights so that he doesn't know what you really think about him.

“you’re being ridiculous,” you frown at dean, arms crossed against your chest as you stare him down in tonight’s motel room.

“ridiculous?” he parrots, indignant. “this is baby we’re talking about. my car. you know, the ‘67 black chevy impala i would kill a man over?”

“yeah, i know her,” you reply, sarcastic in tone. “and your homicidal tendencies when it comes to her. i’m very familiar, dean.” you roll your eyes at him because you just can’t help it. dean makes it very easy to get annoyed at, for a multitude of reasons.

reason number one, he’s annoying. reason number two, he’s very hot when he’s angry. reason number three, he’s very hot pretty much all the time. it does not help that sam got first dibs on the shower, so he’s still covered in a bit of grime and blood from the hunt you just walked away from. it’s his best look, aside from any time that he smiles.

“well, then you should know that getting her perfectly tended to and polished leather seats dirty with wendy’s barbecue sauce is like a goddamn felony and i should sentence you to life of never even stepping foot near my car again,” he fires back, and if you didn’t know him well, which you do, you’d venture to guess that he’s joking. he’s not.

you groan in frustration. “for the last time, i did not get barbecue sauce on your car seats,” you insist.

“i saw you sneaking fries before we got to the room,” he counters, narrowing his eyes at you. “you could have gotten grease on the leather too.”

“i ate two fries dean, and i was careful. i used a napkin and i did not open my barbecue sauce!” you spit back at him. you can’t believe you’re arguing about this right now. except that it is so believable and so like you and him. it’s not like either one of you is going to back down, certainly not about something so petty and meaningless.

“then how come i found some in the back seat?” he says for what feels like the millionth time.

you throw your hands up in the air. “i don’t know! i don’t even use my barbecue sauce for my fries. there’s no reason for me to have opened it!” you argue, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “and how do you even know it was barbecue sauce?”

“it looked like barbecue sauce, it wasn’t there yesterday, you’re the only one who orders it and the only one who’s sat in the back since then. therefore, barbecue sauce,” he admonishes, crossing his arms over his chest to punctuate his point. you can’t help but laugh at him a little bit. he just sounds so ridiculous.

“well then, let’s say it was barbecue sauce—which it wasn’t. did the leather get damaged?” you ask pointedly.

“that doesn’t matter!” he practically rages, taking a step towards you. god, he’s beautiful and you hate him for it (you really, really love him for it). “what matters is that you got it dirty!”

“jesus, dean! just drop it, your car is fine!” you chastise, your voice raising a little in volume as you take another step towards him. you can see his light freckles better now. they’re so goddamn pretty it makes you want to choke him.

“just drop it?” he repeats, fuming. “i will not ‘just drop it.’ this is about baby. i can’t ‘just drop’ something about baby! how can i even trust you enough to let you in my car again, huh?” this is the point where he’s serious, but not that serious. there’s clear frustration and anger in his voice, but he’s stuck with you and he knows it. and when he asks that final question, his volume lessens and he shrugs. he’s looking for you to grovel or offer something to appease him. the question is whether or not to give him that. your instinct is, of course, to not. you let out a huff of breath.

“well, maybe because i’m excellent company in the car,” you suggest, a gloating tone making its way into your voice. “and i like your music better than sam does. which means we always outnumber him. that’s very important.”

he’s unimpressed, clearly. “you gotta come up with something better than that, sweetheart,” he goads.

you curl your lip at him and roll your eyes. “you absolutely suck, dean,” you state. he raises his eyebrows and you groan and roll your eyes yet again. that’s not the word to use around him unless you want a sexual innuendo thrown in your face. “you are absolutely horrible, dean,” you amend.

he laughs at you and his annoyance mostly subsides. “which means i have no problem getting back at you tenfold for getting goddamn barbecue sauce on my car seat.”

“te respicere bonum cum iratus es, ita dampnas,” you grumble, shaking your head and glaring at him. like tradition, you end the argument with a certain latin phrase full of choice words. 

now dean, sweet, lovely, silly, gorgeous dean, has no idea what you’re saying. he doesn’t care to learn enough latin for that. he doesn’t need to know, he thinks. your tone of voice says it all. he thinks those choice words are the type that one fills an insult with. today you tell him, “you look so damn good when you’re angry.” which, funnily enough, is not an insult.

it’s the perfect way of looking him in the eye and just spitting it out. you get to say without consequence what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what you want to tell him so badly. it’s not the same as him knowing, but it helps. it eases your tension until the next time, it softens the blow a little.

sam fails to hold in his laugh behind you. you whirl around and glare at him, freshly dressed and out of the shower. you hadn’t even heard him leave the bathroom. narrowing your eyes at him, you tell your long time best friend, say something and you die. he puts his hands up in surrender, still laughing at you a little.

“shut up,” you grumble, then turn back to dean with a scowl.

“what was that little nerd exchange?” dean teases, realizing sam understood what you said.

“nothing,” you glower. “i’m showering now!” 

dean throws his hands up in protest. “you’re making me shower last after getting barbecue sauce on my car?”

“dean, i swear to the lord in heaven, if you–”

“fine, fine!” he relents, the sarcasm and teasing still clearly present in his voice. “you’re right, you should shower first, you probably have barbecue sauce all over ya.” you raise your fist in a threat and it’s dean’s turn to put his hands up in surrender. “i’m just saying!”

“stop saying!” you groan. “just– stop talking, i’m gonna lose my mind.” if i have to stare at your gorgeous face and listen to your gorgeous voice for another second i will go crazy. you sigh heavily. god, you wonder if you could survive not kissing him. monsters and demons and all the strange shit in the world… that’s fine. it sucks but, jesus, at least you know how to deal with them.

but doing it all with dean? you have no idea how to deal with that. so far, it’s by arguing with him, complimenting him in a dead language, and keeping him at an arm’s length. and so far, it’s not working out too well, because you still want him. you still want him to want you back. you still wish and wish and wish that the language of love isn’t dead, not for you and him, not yet, at least.

maybe the shower will help. this motel doesn’t have the worst showers; the water pressure is decent and the water stays hot for a while longer than some others.

you’re not annoyed when you finish, at least, not about his stupid accusations of you getting condiments on his car seats. unfortunately, you are still annoyed about how attracted you are to him. even more unfortunate, you suppose, is that you’re attracted to him, period.

you sigh because you can’t bring yourself to actually try not to be. not that anyone can reverse feelings, but you let your feelings run rampant, more than you should sometimes. you let him eat away at your heart like a goddman movie zombie that’s too stupid to remember it eats brains. then, you figure that the thought of him eats away at your brain too, because he messes with your rationality sometimes.

his eyes are on you as you leave the bathroom and you wonder if sam’s tattled on you. when you shoot him a look he shrugs and shakes his head. you’re not convinced, but you let it slide. you plop down on the pullout couch bed and pack your old clothes away, ignoring dean’s heavy gaze. only when the door to the bathroom opens and closes do you flop against the bed with a heaving sigh.

“i hate your brother,” you grumble, barely loud enough for sam to hear as the muffled sounds of the shower turning on hits your ears. you turn to your side and curl up, not even bothering to pull the sheet over yourself.

you can’t see sam, but you hear him scoff from his spot on his own bed. “sure you do,” he quips, completely sarcastic.

“no, i really, really do,” you insist, not meaning a word of it.

“well, he hates you too, then,” he answers, voice heavy with implication. you know what he means because he knows what you mean. hate, of course, is love.

“no, he doesn’t,” you counter, sad about it. you bet that no one’s ever sounded so disappointed that someone doesn’t ‘hate’ them.

“you’re hopeless.” sam’s probably shaking his head at you as he reads the words on the book in his lap.

“i’m hopeless,” you sigh.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s not until a few days later that dean confronts you about your little latin digs at him. sam did tattle, only because he’s tired of your pining, but dean won’t tell you that. he’s smart enough to know you’ll end up with your hands around sam’s neck if you end up finding out, and he’s not trying to have his… person strangle his little brother.

“hey, idiot,” he starts, the word layered with affection. “why do you always insult me in latin? sorta feels like you lose the point of insulting someone to their face like that.” 

he’s leaning against the hood of his car, beer in hand like always. it’s oddly uncommon to find yourself like this; outside, alone with him. the motel’s not busy and there are barely any other cars in the parking lot, and even less people. it’s just you and him as far as you can see. the night air is mild, cicadas singing as summer begins to slip away.

“well… maybe the point is that you know i’m saying something about you, but you don’t know what,” you shrug, sort of proud of the smooth answer. you’re not even lying. inside, you’re panicking a bit. this is dangerous territory.

“the stuff you’re saying is that horrible, huh?” his tone suggests a joke. his eyes suggest otherwise. it makes you pause. 

how unfair is it, to the both of you, to lie? to even joke that you’d say such mean things about him? about dean winchester, whom you know sort of hates himself. who has just two people by his side, you and sam.

and you, who only argues with him because it’s easier than being nice. you, who deserves what you want but won’t let yourself even try to have it.

“no,” you sigh out. “i’m not saying horrible stuff about you.” you don’t look at him, you don’t mess around. you take the joking in his voice and strip it away. you take the look in his eyes and put it in yours. it makes him look at you, for once. it’s easy to imagine his eyebrows raising, his lips caught somewhere between his signature smirk and a curious frown. “not in latin, anyways,” you add, letting a huff of laughter leak into your bitter voice.

dean keeps looking at you. you know you’re supposed to explain after saying something like that, but you’d much rather not.

“no?” he asks finally. now you have to say something more.

“no,” you confirm, still staring at the trees across the street instead of him. the street lights are orange in color, and it feels either cruel or hopeful that it’s such a beautiful night. “i… say it in latin because it’s something nice. and you can… ignore this, if you want. i say it in latin because i like you a lot, dean. y’know, more than a stupid, fucking friend.” you roll your eyes a bit, like you’re upset with yourself. then you swallow thickly and ignore the fact that you can see him in your peripheral vision. he doesn’t look like he normally does. he doesn’t look angry.

dean is torn between teasing you and kissing you. you sound mad about the fact that you have feelings for him, like you wish you didn’t. ‘more than a stupid, fucking friend’ is a real funny way to phrase things, if he’s honest with himself. the question is, does he say that to you, or does he look for something better to say? he’s not good with ‘better things to say,’ whatever that might be.

“a little aggressive for a love confession, no?” his voice isn’t even that teasing. it’s sort of gentle. he wants to slap his hand over his mouth for saying that godforsaken four letter word. you had said ‘like.’ it’s freudian slip, he supposes, since he loves you.

“this isn’t funny, dean,” you murmur, voice sort of defeated. and yet, you hear it. it’s not funny to him either. he wasn’t trying to be funny, he was trying not to feel. he was trying to say at least something, because he was having trouble coming up with anything else.

“i know,” he relents. he draws in a deep breath. “will you look at me?” your lips part, then close. you blink a few times. you turn your head and look at him. god, he loves you back. he’s got to, or there’s no other way to explain how he looks at you.

and there’s definitely no other way to explain him kissing you. he looks you right in the eyes and he leans in until his lips are touching yours. 

his eyes flutter closed, yours follow. you kiss him back, he kisses harder. the language of love isn’t dead. all you had to do was say something.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Shjhjhhahsyys

I love this so bloody much oml. It's so soft and wholesome and domestic ughhhhh it's a need. I'm actually not serving this fic omg.

I actually can't cope rn

Alsooooo

Good luck with school, manifesting that's ur an academic weapon and have time for urself to just relax and not brun out <3

sick days ◎ s. winchester

summary: after multiple back-to-back hunts, the stress and fatigue gets to sam

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 3K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', fluff, taking care of sick! sam, barely edited lol

a/n: my last sam fic before i go back to college and get swamped with my course load. writing will slow down and be posted sparingly but i still plan to post if i have time!

as always, like, reblog, and comment on the fic! i always like hearing constructive criticism and love feedback <33 (also my last fic kinda flopped so give it some love please!)

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

It was rare for the boys to get sick. Surprisingly, they had very strong immune systems, and considering how well Sam ate, he would be the last person in the bunker to get sick. 

But you guys have been running yourselves ragged with hunting, having gone on them back to back for the past month and a half. It was exhausting, and when you guys made it back to the bunker, you all but collapsed in your shared bed with Sam, not even bothering to get under the covers. 

When you got up the next day, you felt significantly better, but exhaustion still riddled your body. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. It was nearing noon. It didn’t surprise you that you slept that long; the three of you got back to the bunker well into the late morning. You began to get up from next to the sleeping giant next to you, but you were immediately pulled back by a strong arm wrapping around your lower stomach. You let yourself be dragged back into Sam’s body and let his warmth cocoon you. 

You feel his jean-covered leg intertwine with yours as your chest hits his back, and Sam leaves a sleepy kiss to your pulse point as he nuzzled you, the scruff on his face from not being able to shave for the past two days scratched softly against your neck, making fond smile stretch on your lips. 

“What time is it?” You heard the rasp of Sam’s tired voice whisper in your ear. 

“Almost noon.” You told him as you traced shapes on his bare arm before interlacing his fingers through yours, your interlocked hands resting on your abdomen. 

Sam let out a soft groan before nuzzling your neck further, making a soft laugh escape you. You reached your free hand to thread through his silky locks and ruffled his hair a bit. 

“We should probably get up now.” 

Sam mumbled something into your neck, but you couldn’t understand a single word he said. 

You huffed an amused laugh through your nose. “Mind speaking up for the rest of the class? 

His head raised slightly from your neck. “Don’t want to.” Sam grumbled out before his head fell back to his previous spot. 

You smiled at Sam’s childlike nature. He could get grumpy when he crashes from a long hunt and doesn’t go on his morning runs. 

“We should. We’re still in our clothes from last night.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought. 

You weren’t a stranger to sleeping in your jeans or your hunting clothes. 

Before even meeting the Winchesters and moving into the bunker when you started to date Sam, you had collapsed into a motel bed (or a hundred) with your jeans on. But considering you were used to having somewhere you considered home now, you more often than not slept in your pajamas, even if you were dead tired from a hunt. 

Sam grunted and tightened his hold on you, shaking his head in your neck. You could only imagine what you and Sam looked like right now—having a 6’4 man completely wrapped around you. You mentally shook your head and managed to pry yourself out of his arms. 

Sam let out a whine of protest as you left the bed but decided that he wasn’t going to get out of bed anytime soon, so he rolled over to his stomach and went back to sleep. 

You saw his breathing even out, and you shook your head. There was a soft smile on your face as you rounded the bed to his side to kiss Sam on the forehead. He unconsciously smiled at the contact. You left his side to grab a change of pajamas from the dresser. You decided a shower was in order before you decided to cook up some lunch for everyone. 

You doubted that Dean was even awake at the moment, but to check, you peeked your head into his room to find your suspicions to be correct. Dean was sprawled out on his bed, but it seemed that he was able to strip down to his boxers and a t-shirt. You closed his door quietly and shuffled off to the shower room. 

Once you were freshly clean and refreshed, the shower having given you some energy, you padded into the empty kitchen and decided to whip up some food for you and the boys. You started the coffee maker and looked in the fridge to see it somewhat stocked, but you knew that you or Dean would have to make a supply run in the coming days. 

You settled on making sandwiches for you and the boys, and when the coffee was done, Dean stalked into the kitchen. It looked like he was moving on autopilot, moving towards the mugs and coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before plopping himself down at the table. Dean hadn’t bothered changing; all he did was shrug on his ‘dead guy’ robe and his hair sticking up in different directions, having been mussed up from sleeping. You placed his just-made sandwich in front of him, and he let out a grunt of thanks before diving into his lunch (breakfast). 

Soon enough, Sam stumbled into the kitchen. He also looked like he rolled out of bed, his flannel wrinkled, but he was able to tame his hair. Sam gave you a grateful smile as he sat at the table, and you placed a cup of coffee and his lunch in front of him. You grabbed your lunch and a water bottle from the fridge. You kissed Sam’s temple before settling next to him at the table, where the three of you ate in comfortable silence. 

A couple of days had passed since you came back from the last hunt, and you made the boys take at least a week off from hunting since you had been going on hunts consistently and deserved a break.  

You and Sam were relaxing in the library, Sam reading some lore book that he had yet to catalog, and you were reading a mystery/thriller book that you had been meaning to read for a while on your Kindle. The two of you were content in each other’s presence, but you noticed that Sam was clearing his throat more often today. 

Sam eventually let out a cough that made you look up at him. 

“Need some water hun?” You ask him with furrowed brows. 

Sam shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure?”

Sam just nodded at you in response. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment before they flicked downward back to your Kindle. 

The day passed as it usually did, but the next morning was what you didn’t expect. For one, Sam was still in bed when you had woken up. You were confused because Sam was a stickler for his routine in the mornings. You glanced at the clock, the green letters reading 9:14 AM, which was a little later than you would usually get up, but you were still catching up on sleep. 

You decide to leave Sam in bed, figuring that he needs to do the same thing and go to the bathroom to do your morning routine. When you came back into the room to change, Sam was awake, resting on the headboard, but he was sniffling and looked pale. You quickly rushed over to him. 

“You doing alright there babe?” You asked as you made it to his side of the bed and sat next to him. You reached out to feel his forehead, but he leaned away from your touch. 

“Don’t, I’m going to get you sick.” Sam’s voice was raspy and tired. 

“I’ll be fine, I just wanna see if you’re running a fever.” 

Sam didn’t seem to like that idea but relented, leaning towards your hand. The back of your hand hit his forehead for a moment, pursing your lips as you felt his temperature before cupping his cheek, your thumb caressing the beauty mark near his eye. 

“You’re running a little warmer than usual, let me go see if we have a thermometer somewhere. Stay here.” You ordered him. 

Sam huffed but nodded as he sunk back into the bed. You smiled, pinching his cheek before releasing it. 

“Good boy.” You teased as you stood up. 

Sam rolled his eyes at you, a tired smile playing on his lips. 

You quickly made your way to the infirmary, hoping that the Men of Letters had a thermometer that wasn’t made of mercury, but you had an inkling that they didn’t. You passed Dean as you made your way to the infirmary, and he called out to you, seeing your hasty speed. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked when he noticed you were going in the direction of the infirmary. 

“Sam is sick and might be running a fever.” 

Dean’s eyebrows knit in confusion and slight concern, now walking with you, abandoning the direction he was already walking in. “You’re telling Mr. Health nut got sick? How?” 

“Not sure. But I have a feeling it’s because we had been running around on hunts and since we hadn’t been on one for a couple of days, the exhaustion and stress finally hit and this is how his body is reacting.” You explained to Dean your theory as to why Sam got sick, knowing how uncommon it was for them to get sick. 

“I’ll go out and grab some stuff for him. I have to do a supply run anyway.” Dean said as you two left the infirmary, nearly turning the place upside down, trying to find a thermometer that wasn’t made with mercury. You highly doubted that Sam wanted mercury poisoning, and that was the thing that took him out instead of a monster (again). 

You nodded. “I’ll text you a list.” 

Dean patted your shoulder before the two of you parted ways, you in the direction of your shared room with Sam and Dean in the direction of the garage. 

You made it back to your shared room to find Sam dozing off, sniffling, and clearing his throat. Sam’s tired eyes snapped to yours as you moved across the room to sit by his feet at the edge of the bed.  

“How are you feeling?” You asked him gently, letting your hand rest on his ankle. 

“Cold, and I can’t breathe out of my nose.” Sam’s voice was hoarse and sounded congested. 

You sent Sam a sympathetic smile. “Dean’s out getting you some stuff right now, he should be back in a bit.” You gave Sam’s ankle a reassuring squeeze. 

“Did you find a thermometer?” 

You huffed. “Yes, but they were made of mercury and broken. I don’t think you would have appreciated getting mercury poisoning on top of being sick.” 

Sam chuckled before it turned into a coughing fit. You cringed at the sound of his cough and stood up from your place on the bed. 

“I’ll get you some water and tissues.” 

You entertained Sam for about an hour before Dean came back. It looked like he bought the entire drugstore with the two bags full of medicine and other supplies that he thought you might’ve needed in the future. Well, at least the infirmary would be stocked with cough and flu medicine. 

You whipped a quick lunch for Sam that he could stomach before taking the meds. After Sam ate the small lunch you gave him, you made him take some Dayquil and placed a cold washcloth on his forehead. You were expecting for him to make a fuss about taking medicine, having heard the stories that Dean told you of Sam when he was sick when they were younger. 

You let Sam take a nap, knowing the only way that he would get better faster is if he just rested. You were planning on prepping Sam’s dinner while he slept, but as you walked into the kitchen, you found Dean at the stove cooking some veggies in a pot. 

“I was going to do that, you know?” You said as you walked over to Dean and looked at the ingredients for tomato soup scattered on the metal countertop. 

“Well, taking care of Sasquatch over there is a handful and figured you needed all the help you could get.” Dean looked at you with a shrug of his shoulder, but you could hear the undercurrent of fondness over the nonchalant tone that he had. 

“Mmhm. Okay, well do you need any help?” 

“You can start making the grilled cheeses’.” 

A couple of hours later, there was a plate filled with grilled cheese sandwiches (most of which were for Dean) and piping hot tomato soup that was enough for a small army. You tiptoed into the low-lit room of Sam’s bedroom, who was still asleep, with a tray filled with food, water, medicine, and a thermometer (a digital one). You placed the tray on the nightstand on the side Sam was lying on and sat down next to him. 

You looked down at the sleeping man in front and noticed how much younger he looked as he did. The crease in between his eyebrows was smoothed out, and stress wasn’t etched in his features as he breathed as evenly as he could with a congested nose. You shook your head in slight disbelief at how beautiful this man was even when he was sick. 

You took off the now warm towel on Sam’s forehead and gently brushed back the strands of hair that were dampened by the towel. Sam stirred at your ministrations as he groggily blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

“Hey sleepy head.” You said with a gentle smile. You were able to gauge his temperature as your hand brushed against his forehead for a moment before petting the long strands of his brunette locks. 

Sam cracked a smile and your hand fell from his hair as he pulled himself up and rested against the headboard.  He was still dressed in the white t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he went to sleep in. 

“How long was I out for?” Sam asked as he cleared his throat slightly.

You gave him the water bottle from earlier. “Give or take a few hours.” 

Sam took a sip of water, glancing at the alarm clock before capping his water bottle and nodding. He stretched his neck out with a slight groan before his head hit his headboard with a small thump.

“Still tired?” You watched him carefully. 

“Yeah, and I feel like I was tossed around by a demon,” Sam said as he absent-mindedly cracked his knuckles. 

You let out a small chuckle.” I mean, you did about a month ago.” You joked. 

Sam shot you a glare, but it had no heat behind it as he was still looking at you through tired eyes. “Haha, very funny.” He said dryly. 

You sent him a smirk. “Thank you, I’ll be here all night.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

You pointed a stern finger at him. “Hey, you should be nicer to the person who’s taking care of your sick ass or I’ll make sure you get mercury poisoning.”

Sam rolled his eyes at your empty threat. “I could take care of myself.” 

You raised an unconvinced eyebrow at him, your mind immediately flicking back to all of the times you had to pry him away from researching in the library to sleep. 

You hummed unconvincingly. “Sure you could big boy.” You quipped before reaching for the tray on the nightstand and placed it above his lap. The tray had legs, so it didn’t have to rest precariously on his lap. 

“Enjoy dinner, Dean and I made it.” You smiled at him before petting his head. 

Sam looked down at the tomato soup and grilled cheese before him. He couldn’t really smell it, but it looked delicious, and he felt his stomach rumble with hunger. 

“Thank you.” Sam’s tone filled with sincerity. 

“S’no problem love.” You winked at him before getting up from the bed. 

You pointed down at the medicine and the thermometer. “I’ll take your temp after you eat, then you’ll shower, and then take your meds.” You instructed Sam as he began to slurp at the soup. 

Sam nodded obediently. “Have you eaten yet?”   

“Not yet.” 

“Can you eat here with me?” 

You smiled at Sam. “Yeah, let me grab my food.” 

After you and Sam ate, you took his temperature, which was only at 100 degrees. You managed to get Sam out of bed and into the shower room, where you helped him wash off. He was practically putty in your hands as you washed his hair with the lukewarm water of the shower (he complained of wanting a hot shower, but you knew better than having him shower in hot or cold water when he had a fever). 

Once he was clean, he all but stumbled back into the room and collapsed in the bed. Sam was about to fall asleep, but you made him take some medicine before he got under the covers and got swept under by the drug-induced sleep. 

You were about to leave Sam’s side to sleep in your old room before you moved into Sam’s room when you felt a tug at your shirt, seeing Sam’s sleepy pout on his face. 

“Yes, Sam?” 

“Stay.” 

“Thought you didn’t want me to get sick.” You teased softly, grabbing his hand from your shirt. 

That was a bad idea because he grabbed you with strength that you didn’t expect from a drowsy Sam and pulled you into him on the bed, a yelp escaping your mouth. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist and nuzzled into your neck. 

“Don’t care, need you.” He mumbled into your neck, his breath hitting your collarbone as you were chest to chest. 

You huffed a small laugh through your nose, threading your hands through his long hair, uncaring of the consequences. “You won’t be saying that when I get sick and blame you for it.” 

Sam didn’t respond to you, his breathing evening out before you even said your last word. You shook your head, a knowing smile on your face before you eventually fell asleep yourself. 

A week later, Sam took on the caretaker role, and you guys weren’t able to go on a hunt for another two weeks until you felt better. 

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Ahhhh I love this so so much.

My heart actually hurts I love soft while so so much. Ughhhhhh. I'm actually so gay wtf I'm in the closet but the principle still applies

caught in the rain — emily prentiss

pairing : emily prentiss x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : none i think ➖⟢ wc : 0.382K

emily has always hated getting caught in the rain. she hates that her hair gets frizzy and the way that her clothes start to stick to her skin if it’s raining hard enough for that. it’s inconvenient and often gets far too cold and damp for comfort.

but here she is, doing her damndest trying not to start grinning like a fool because she’s been caught in the rain. and it’s all because of you.

suddenly, being caught in the rain is glorious. first is the laugh you let out when you see the look on her face as she feels the first drop of water. that alone is enough to make her feel less miffed by the unplanned weather. then it turns out that it was only unplanned to her, because you pull an umbrella out of your bag with a teasing grin on your face that doesn’t even make her mad because it’s so pleasant to look at. 

you open up the umbrella and swing it over your head. it’s small, really only meant for one person, but that doesn’t stop you from looping your arm through hers and pulling her right into your side. the look of surprise on her face morphs into a smile with ease.

“you know, em, some people check the weather report before leaving the house,” you tease.

she scoffs in retaliation. “and some people are too busy to check!”

“today’s your day off!” you laugh again, and now she’s wondering what in the world she did to deserve you because you make her so goddamn happy.

emily still hates getting caught in the rain. but on her days off she always checks the weather and remembers to pack an umbrella, she just doesn’t tell you that so that she can always share yours. so maybe she hates getting caught in the rain but she loves it when it happens with you. because the rain makes you smile and she loves it when you smile. because it gives her an excuse to be so close to you when you’re out and about in the city. because it’s easier for her to sneak a kiss to your cheek without anyone else seeing it and because she loves everything if she gets to have it with you.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Oh. Oh...

I need water cos oml. I'm actually so obsessed with this its not even funny just ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I need to go and touch grass brb.

over the table ✒ s. winchester

summary: you can't resist sam in a suit

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x afab! reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1.6K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, sam in a suit (yes this is a warning), mentions of smut, making out, implied smut, dean wishing he didn't exist at the end, barely edited

a/n: everyone thank my lovely mari @prentissluvr for putting that scenario in my head and i couldn't get sam in a suit out of my head so i decided to combine both of them in a fic ! [gif set that i was inspired by]

please enjoy this because i had a blast writing this! remember to reblog and comment bc it helps out and i love hearing your thotss!!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

It was very rare when there was a case nearby Lebanon, so the three of you had the luxury of coming back to the bunker when night had fallen and regrouping to figure out what the monster of the week was this week and killing it. 

You and Sam were in the library doing some research while Dean was off at the bar in town, doing god knows what. But you really weren’t doing much research to begin with. You were too busy staring at Sam as he sat across from you, his eyes reading the book that was in front of him.

The two of you went into the town where the haunting was occurring posing as Feds, and you had a hard time paying any attention to what the sheriff was telling as Sam stood next to you, being able to smell the mint and woody scent of his cologne wafting off of Sam and blinding your senses, rendering you to only think about Sam. You had a weakness for a guy in a suit. It should be criminal how well his Fed suit fit him. Still, hey, you weren’t complaining (although you do hear the complaints about how uncomfortable they could be from both of the brothers). 

It was oh so very difficult to keep your eyes off of Sam; the fit of the suit accentuated the broadness of his shoulders, and you just about jumped him as you saw him unbutton his jacket with a flick of his fingers as he adjusted his blazer when talking to the sheriff.  

Now you were back at the bunker; Sam had stripped off his jacket, leaving him in a crisp white button-up with his sleeves rolled up and a slightly loosened tie around his neck. You were dressed similarly to him, having taken off the blazer you were wearing, and you were left in a button-up and some slacks. 

As soon as Sam took off his jacket, it was game over for you. You were pretending to read an article on your laptop, not having read a single sentence of it, and you stole glances at Sam as he flicked through the book on the table. He was so absorbed in the book that you didn’t think he could feel your piercing gaze on him. 

Your eyes were drawn everywhere on Sam; you couldn’t choose where to stare first, but your eyes landed on Sam’s hair. Brown locks that fell just to the nape of his neck, his ends flaring out into a little swoop. Your gaze flickered down to his hands, the motion of him flipping the page capturing your attention. God, his hands. They were massive compared to yours. They were long and dexterous, covered in calluses from wielding guns and knives for the majority of his adult life, and capable of rendering you speechless as he gripped your hips or waist as he fucks you with every inch of him into the mattress. 

You swallowed thickly at the thought as your eyes eventually moved from his hands to his face. It should be considered illegal how beautiful he was. When you first met him, it was his eyes that drew you into him. They were like a kaleidoscope of greens, blues, and browns with gold specks that only appeared in certain types of lighting. You would come to find out that his eyes were indicators of his mood. When he was somber or angry, they would shift into a blue-gray color. When he’d be angry or frustrated, his eyes would turn a dark green with flecks of brown scattered throughout. When he was happy or content, his eyes would be hazel, a harmonious mix of all the colors his eyes seemed to hold. 

Your eyes lingered on the mole near his left eye, always having the urge to kiss it and then smothering his entire face in kisses. Then, your gaze followed the bridge of his nose down to its tip. You found it cute how it came to a point and booped it on occasion, making him chuckle in amusement at you. But then you remembered how perfect it felt against your clit as he urged you to ride his face as his grip on your thighs was ironclad, leaving small bruises on the inside of your thighs. 

You squeezed your thighs together as you shifted in your seat, feeling the wetness dripping from your core and slowly seeping into your underwear, but your gaze never strayed away from the man sitting in front of you. Finally, your eyes fell to his lips. You were obsessed with his lips. You loved it when it was stretched out into a grin and dimples in total attendance, into a pout when he was giving you the puppy dog that Dean coined ages ago, but you especially loved it when his soft lips were against yours. 

You were so absorbed in Sam that you didn’t realize that he had his perfect lips stretched out into a smirk. A chuckle that erupted from Sam’s chest finally broke you out of your Sam-induced haze, and you saw the amusement dancing in his eyes as he looked at your slightly flushed appearance. 

“Find anything useful over there?” Sam asked with a knowing smile on his lips. 

You cleared your throat as your eyes flicked over to your now-off laptop and shook your head. “Nope, nothing over here.” 

“Mmm I wonder why?” You saw the corner of his eyes crinkle as Sam teased you as he closed his book. 

You huffed. “S’not my fault that the internet isn’t reliable when it comes to monster lore. You closed your laptop and moved it away from you. 

“Sure.” He nodded like he believed you. “Is that why I could feel your eyes on me for the past ten minutes?” 

You felt yourself flush from being caught staring at Sam. But you tried playing it off as you scoffed. 

“It’s not my fault you look like that!” You fell back in your chair as you gestured to your unfairly sexy boyfriend. 

Sam’s face twisted in confusion, his nose scrunching up. “What do you mean? Do I look bad?” He looked down at his shirt, wondering what was wrong with his clothes. 

“Quite the opposite actually.” You said as you slowly scanned Sam from bottom to top. 

Sam recognized the heat of your gaze and smirked. He leaned forward as he tilted his head. “Really?” A smirk played on his lips. 

You nodded. “Yep, it’s really unfair how good you look right now.” 

“How so?” 

Instead of telling him, you showed him. You quickly leaned forward, grabbed the loose tie he was wearing, and pulled him to your lips. Sam responded immediately. The kiss was downright filthy, his tongue finding residence in your mouth, and a groan rumbled in his chest as he tasted the whiskey that the two of you were sipping on as you researched. The kiss was growing more passionate, and the position the two of you were in wasn’t going to cut it. You didn’t want to break the kiss by going around the table, so you thought of the next best thing. 

You let go of his tie and practically flew off of your chair as you eagerly climbed on top of the table, never breaking the kiss as you did. You heard Sam moan in surprise as you crawled on your knees towards him and grasped his face, pulling him close to you. Sam acted quickly and pulled you from the table to sit you in his lap. You almost yelped in his mouth from the sudden movement, but a moan left your lips as you felt the bulge in his slacks brush against your clothed core. You started to grind on Sam as you guys made out in the library; the heat in your core and the room began to rise. 

Sam’s hands were roaming everywhere, up your thighs, thighs, ass, before landing on your hips and squeezing. He helped you grind against his bulge, and you felt your clit almost throbbing from the friction against your wet underwear and his bulge. You were 100% sure that your underwear was soaked through and threatened to seep through your slacks. 

You and Sam couldn’t have cared about the research anymore as you rutted against each other. Your hands eventually made their way to his hair and ran through it before tugging on its ends. Sam’s loud groan made the two of you break apart, your swollen lips slick with spit. The both of you looked at each other with heaving chests, finally taking in air, both of your eyes wide with lust. You couldn’t help but rest your forehead against his slightly sweaty one and nipped at his bottom lip.

Sam let out a slight growl and stood up from the chair, grabbing your thighs and pushing the chair back with so much force that it toppled over. You couldn’t resist the laugh that escaped your mouth at the sound of the chair hitting the hardwood floor of the library. Sam smiled at the sound of your bright laugh, breaking through the haze of lust he was in. He kissed you softly before making his way towards his room, where you didn’t leave for the rest of the night. 

When Dean came back from the bar later that night, all he did was shake his head as he saw the state of the library. As he neared his door, he could hear your moans through the nearly soundproof door of Sam’s door and quickly made his way to his room to put his noise-canceling headphones on. 

Dean really wished that he had found someone to go home with tonight. 

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Ahhhhhhhh omggggg

I live this so so so much. Truly it's incredible. Just the way u write has me dead, I've acended into heaven quite frankly. Bloody brilliant!!!! I'm hungover and jet lagged, this has cured my soul.

Wow!!!

the language of love isn't dead — dean winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, frenemies to lovers, petty arguments, ft. sam!, dean is annoying obviously <3, reader speaks latin (i used google translate and it is probably very wrong lol), kissing, one mention of a sexual innuendo, a few joking death threats, non-serious mentions of choking, poorly edited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : you tend to compliment dean in the dead language of latin after fights so that he doesn't know what you really think about him.

“you’re being ridiculous,” you frown at dean, arms crossed against your chest as you stare him down in tonight’s motel room.

“ridiculous?” he parrots, indignant. “this is baby we’re talking about. my car. you know, the ‘67 black chevy impala i would kill a man over?”

“yeah, i know her,” you reply, sarcastic in tone. “and your homicidal tendencies when it comes to her. i’m very familiar, dean.” you roll your eyes at him because you just can’t help it. dean makes it very easy to get annoyed at, for a multitude of reasons.

reason number one, he’s annoying. reason number two, he’s very hot when he’s angry. reason number three, he’s very hot pretty much all the time. it does not help that sam got first dibs on the shower, so he’s still covered in a bit of grime and blood from the hunt you just walked away from. it’s his best look, aside from any time that he smiles.

“well, then you should know that getting her perfectly tended to and polished leather seats dirty with wendy’s barbecue sauce is like a goddamn felony and i should sentence you to life of never even stepping foot near my car again,” he fires back, and if you didn’t know him well, which you do, you’d venture to guess that he’s joking. he’s not.

you groan in frustration. “for the last time, i did not get barbecue sauce on your car seats,” you insist.

“i saw you sneaking fries before we got to the room,” he counters, narrowing his eyes at you. “you could have gotten grease on the leather too.”

“i ate two fries dean, and i was careful. i used a napkin and i did not open my barbecue sauce!” you spit back at him. you can’t believe you’re arguing about this right now. except that it is so believable and so like you and him. it’s not like either one of you is going to back down, certainly not about something so petty and meaningless.

“then how come i found some in the back seat?” he says for what feels like the millionth time.

you throw your hands up in the air. “i don’t know! i don’t even use my barbecue sauce for my fries. there’s no reason for me to have opened it!” you argue, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “and how do you even know it was barbecue sauce?”

“it looked like barbecue sauce, it wasn’t there yesterday, you’re the only one who orders it and the only one who’s sat in the back since then. therefore, barbecue sauce,” he admonishes, crossing his arms over his chest to punctuate his point. you can’t help but laugh at him a little bit. he just sounds so ridiculous.

“well then, let’s say it was barbecue sauce—which it wasn’t. did the leather get damaged?” you ask pointedly.

“that doesn’t matter!” he practically rages, taking a step towards you. god, he’s beautiful and you hate him for it (you really, really love him for it). “what matters is that you got it dirty!”

“jesus, dean! just drop it, your car is fine!” you chastise, your voice raising a little in volume as you take another step towards him. you can see his light freckles better now. they’re so goddamn pretty it makes you want to choke him.

“just drop it?” he repeats, fuming. “i will not ‘just drop it.’ this is about baby. i can’t ‘just drop’ something about baby! how can i even trust you enough to let you in my car again, huh?” this is the point where he’s serious, but not that serious. there’s clear frustration and anger in his voice, but he’s stuck with you and he knows it. and when he asks that final question, his volume lessens and he shrugs. he’s looking for you to grovel or offer something to appease him. the question is whether or not to give him that. your instinct is, of course, to not. you let out a huff of breath.

“well, maybe because i’m excellent company in the car,” you suggest, a gloating tone making its way into your voice. “and i like your music better than sam does. which means we always outnumber him. that’s very important.”

he’s unimpressed, clearly. “you gotta come up with something better than that, sweetheart,” he goads.

you curl your lip at him and roll your eyes. “you absolutely suck, dean,” you state. he raises his eyebrows and you groan and roll your eyes yet again. that’s not the word to use around him unless you want a sexual innuendo thrown in your face. “you are absolutely horrible, dean,” you amend.

he laughs at you and his annoyance mostly subsides. “which means i have no problem getting back at you tenfold for getting goddamn barbecue sauce on my car seat.”

“te respicere bonum cum iratus es, ita dampnas,” you grumble, shaking your head and glaring at him. like tradition, you end the argument with a certain latin phrase full of choice words. 

now dean, sweet, lovely, silly, gorgeous dean, has no idea what you’re saying. he doesn’t care to learn enough latin for that. he doesn’t need to know, he thinks. your tone of voice says it all. he thinks those choice words are the type that one fills an insult with. today you tell him, “you look so damn good when you’re angry.” which, funnily enough, is not an insult.

it’s the perfect way of looking him in the eye and just spitting it out. you get to say without consequence what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what you want to tell him so badly. it’s not the same as him knowing, but it helps. it eases your tension until the next time, it softens the blow a little.

sam fails to hold in his laugh behind you. you whirl around and glare at him, freshly dressed and out of the shower. you hadn’t even heard him leave the bathroom. narrowing your eyes at him, you tell your long time best friend, say something and you die. he puts his hands up in surrender, still laughing at you a little.

“shut up,” you grumble, then turn back to dean with a scowl.

“what was that little nerd exchange?” dean teases, realizing sam understood what you said.

“nothing,” you glower. “i’m showering now!” 

dean throws his hands up in protest. “you’re making me shower last after getting barbecue sauce on my car?”

“dean, i swear to the lord in heaven, if you–”

“fine, fine!” he relents, the sarcasm and teasing still clearly present in his voice. “you’re right, you should shower first, you probably have barbecue sauce all over ya.” you raise your fist in a threat and it’s dean’s turn to put his hands up in surrender. “i’m just saying!”

“stop saying!” you groan. “just– stop talking, i’m gonna lose my mind.” if i have to stare at your gorgeous face and listen to your gorgeous voice for another second i will go crazy. you sigh heavily. god, you wonder if you could survive not kissing him. monsters and demons and all the strange shit in the world… that’s fine. it sucks but, jesus, at least you know how to deal with them.

but doing it all with dean? you have no idea how to deal with that. so far, it’s by arguing with him, complimenting him in a dead language, and keeping him at an arm’s length. and so far, it’s not working out too well, because you still want him. you still want him to want you back. you still wish and wish and wish that the language of love isn’t dead, not for you and him, not yet, at least.

maybe the shower will help. this motel doesn’t have the worst showers; the water pressure is decent and the water stays hot for a while longer than some others.

you’re not annoyed when you finish, at least, not about his stupid accusations of you getting condiments on his car seats. unfortunately, you are still annoyed about how attracted you are to him. even more unfortunate, you suppose, is that you’re attracted to him, period.

you sigh because you can’t bring yourself to actually try not to be. not that anyone can reverse feelings, but you let your feelings run rampant, more than you should sometimes. you let him eat away at your heart like a goddman movie zombie that’s too stupid to remember it eats brains. then, you figure that the thought of him eats away at your brain too, because he messes with your rationality sometimes.

his eyes are on you as you leave the bathroom and you wonder if sam’s tattled on you. when you shoot him a look he shrugs and shakes his head. you’re not convinced, but you let it slide. you plop down on the pullout couch bed and pack your old clothes away, ignoring dean’s heavy gaze. only when the door to the bathroom opens and closes do you flop against the bed with a heaving sigh.

“i hate your brother,” you grumble, barely loud enough for sam to hear as the muffled sounds of the shower turning on hits your ears. you turn to your side and curl up, not even bothering to pull the sheet over yourself.

you can’t see sam, but you hear him scoff from his spot on his own bed. “sure you do,” he quips, completely sarcastic.

“no, i really, really do,” you insist, not meaning a word of it.

“well, he hates you too, then,” he answers, voice heavy with implication. you know what he means because he knows what you mean. hate, of course, is love.

“no, he doesn’t,” you counter, sad about it. you bet that no one’s ever sounded so disappointed that someone doesn’t ‘hate’ them.

“you’re hopeless.” sam’s probably shaking his head at you as he reads the words on the book in his lap.

“i’m hopeless,” you sigh.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s not until a few days later that dean confronts you about your little latin digs at him. sam did tattle, only because he’s tired of your pining, but dean won’t tell you that. he’s smart enough to know you’ll end up with your hands around sam’s neck if you end up finding out, and he’s not trying to have his… person strangle his little brother.

“hey, idiot,” he starts, the word layered with affection. “why do you always insult me in latin? sorta feels like you lose the point of insulting someone to their face like that.” 

he’s leaning against the hood of his car, beer in hand like always. it’s oddly uncommon to find yourself like this; outside, alone with him. the motel’s not busy and there are barely any other cars in the parking lot, and even less people. it’s just you and him as far as you can see. the night air is mild, cicadas singing as summer begins to slip away.

“well… maybe the point is that you know i’m saying something about you, but you don’t know what,” you shrug, sort of proud of the smooth answer. you’re not even lying. inside, you’re panicking a bit. this is dangerous territory.

“the stuff you’re saying is that horrible, huh?” his tone suggests a joke. his eyes suggest otherwise. it makes you pause. 

how unfair is it, to the both of you, to lie? to even joke that you’d say such mean things about him? about dean winchester, whom you know sort of hates himself. who has just two people by his side, you and sam.

and you, who only argues with him because it’s easier than being nice. you, who deserves what you want but won’t let yourself even try to have it.

“no,” you sigh out. “i’m not saying horrible stuff about you.” you don’t look at him, you don’t mess around. you take the joking in his voice and strip it away. you take the look in his eyes and put it in yours. it makes him look at you, for once. it’s easy to imagine his eyebrows raising, his lips caught somewhere between his signature smirk and a curious frown. “not in latin, anyways,” you add, letting a huff of laughter leak into your bitter voice.

dean keeps looking at you. you know you’re supposed to explain after saying something like that, but you’d much rather not.

“no?” he asks finally. now you have to say something more.

“no,” you confirm, still staring at the trees across the street instead of him. the street lights are orange in color, and it feels either cruel or hopeful that it’s such a beautiful night. “i… say it in latin because it’s something nice. and you can… ignore this, if you want. i say it in latin because i like you a lot, dean. y’know, more than a stupid, fucking friend.” you roll your eyes a bit, like you’re upset with yourself. then you swallow thickly and ignore the fact that you can see him in your peripheral vision. he doesn’t look like he normally does. he doesn’t look angry.

dean is torn between teasing you and kissing you. you sound mad about the fact that you have feelings for him, like you wish you didn’t. ‘more than a stupid, fucking friend’ is a real funny way to phrase things, if he’s honest with himself. the question is, does he say that to you, or does he look for something better to say? he’s not good with ‘better things to say,’ whatever that might be.

“a little aggressive for a love confession, no?” his voice isn’t even that teasing. it’s sort of gentle. he wants to slap his hand over his mouth for saying that godforsaken four letter word. you had said ‘like.’ it’s freudian slip, he supposes, since he loves you.

“this isn’t funny, dean,” you murmur, voice sort of defeated. and yet, you hear it. it’s not funny to him either. he wasn’t trying to be funny, he was trying not to feel. he was trying to say at least something, because he was having trouble coming up with anything else.

“i know,” he relents. he draws in a deep breath. “will you look at me?” your lips part, then close. you blink a few times. you turn your head and look at him. god, he loves you back. he’s got to, or there’s no other way to explain how he looks at you.

and there’s definitely no other way to explain him kissing you. he looks you right in the eyes and he leans in until his lips are touching yours. 

his eyes flutter closed, yours follow. you kiss him back, he kisses harder. the language of love isn’t dead. all you had to do was say something.