#dean: (tosses sam's wedding ring)

[quietwingsinthesky]

prompt: samifer, "my husband"

(i love your drabbles, by the way)

(oh, that's good, because i love writing them. one of the best parts of my day, really. they're not long enough to stress me out, but the exact 100 word limit is challenging enough to make them fun.)

(and uh also i made two again. lmao. to be fair to me, these are very interlocked. interpreting the prompt a little loosely? i hope it suffices.)

A small detail in the whirlwind of Sam's last day on Earth, that before Lucifer takes him from Detroit, he slides the wedding ring off his former vessel's finger.

That turns out not to have been Sam's last day at all, and then Sam's sitting across from Dean, perfectly fine (something's wrong), and there's a ring on his finger, still.

"Where did you get that?" he asks, like he doesn't already know. He wants an answer that doesn't scare him.

Sam shrugs.

Sometimes he presses the metal to his lips. Not a kiss. Like he wants a taste of grief.

~~~

Sam's wall is broken, and Dean knows, whatever his brother claims, that there's molten metal leaking in, cooling on his skin only to entrap him further. The gold band on his left hand is a constant reminder.

Dean takes it off only once, when Sam's asleep in the passenger seat. He tosses it out the window of the Impala.

That night, he wakes up to Sam kneeling in their motel room. Dean stays still, silent.

A gleam of gold in the dark on Sam's folded hands.

"…until death do us part," he's whispering, head tilted up to meet unseen eyes.

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  I'll Gitcha Fixed

Series: Supernatural B-Sides

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Synopsis: Our Mr. Winchester takes it upon himself to help correct a friend's toxic thinking patterns..

Tags:  Dean Winchester, Female Reader Character, Female You, Depression, Toxic Thinking, Plus Sized Reader, Smallfat Reader, Songfic

AN:  The song is "Come to Poppa," written by Earl Randle and Willie Mitchel, performed by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band-- one of the filthiest songs ever recorded that stays within the bounds of good taste. I was in a Mood and this happened. For purposes of clarity, the You in this story is a smallfat at best-- i.e. needs to shop in the Plus section but can find clothes easily at most major retailers. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

The door opens with the sounds of Lynard Skynard music and the stench of spilled beer and old cigarette smoke, the BEER’O’CLOCK showing just past eleven on a dead slow weekday night.  You're still decked out in that stupid dress, high heels swapped out for your biker boots.  You look, and feel, utterly ridiculous.  “Whiskey, neat,” you tell the bartender.

“You got it.”

Ah, Jameson.  Cheaper than therapy and available outside business hours.

"Heya baby--" at your death glare the fog of booze smell that might've once been a guy floats away, listing all the unflattering yet true facts that mean he wasn't really interested anyway.  God willing your standards will never drop that low.

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.  "Whiskey, neat."

"Hey," you greet the Devil as he toes over a stool and parks it next to you.

"Hey," Dean Winchester greets you back, tossing the whiskey down his throat and tapping the glass for another.  "You okay?"

"Peachy," you lie through your teeth.  "What happened?  You strike out at the Honey Hive?"

A shrug of those wide shoulders.  Stood next to the physical specimen that is his younger brother, it's easy to overlook certain things about Dean.  Like those big hands, those long legs.  "Wasn't in the mood I guess."

You narrow your eyes.  "Okay who are you and what've you done with Dean?"

He glares at you.  "That's not funny."

"Of course it is."  A twinkle on Dean's hand and you shake your head.  "Dude, if you're looking to hook up maybe take off the ring."

"What, you don't like being fake-married?"

So not the problem.  "Operative word being fake."  Don't fucking tease me, you want to say, nobody with working eyesight bought that we were anything other than the geek show.  It'd gotten the job done, distracting everyone at that party long enough for Sam to sneak in, set the fire, and sneak back out.  As Hunts go it'd been a layup.  Certainly not enough to make you forget the tittering, or the blowjob jokes, or the endless She's So Fat bullshit, as you and Dean playacted the tipsy bickering couple with no discretion or volume control.

Smiling that gotcha! smile, Dean says, "Then how come you're still wearing your rings, honey?"

"For the same reason I wear a wedding ring any time I go out drinking.  Men only think pussy's unavailable if somebody else's already got his name on it."

The smile disappears.  Maybe you were a little too mean with that one.  "What're you getting pissed off at me for?"

God damn it, you're just drunk enough to feel oversensitive and weepy.  Bob Seger's voice in the background singing low and insinuating -- if you neeeeed . . . a pacifier, call anytime . . . I'll try to be your satisfier -- doesn't help.  Part of you is back in the hot garage of your childhood listening to your older brother's friends make filthy jokes about your early-blooming body.  "Never mind.  Never mind," you finish your water and go fishing for your wallet.  Stupid fancy dress making you feel simultaneously overdressed and naked, stupid tiny clutch purse, stupid ring set that’s just loose enough to keep snagging on everything . . . you’re wrapped in fucking layers of stupid.

"No wait a minute--" you slip Dean's grabbing hand as you shove a twenty under the empty glass and a five into the tip jar.

"Leave her alone pal," the bartender warns.

"It's cool, it's cool, she's my wife," Dean says.  For that, you could cheerfully shoot him.  Instead you hit the door and juke around the side of the building, cutting back across the alley and over the fence to your motel.

The light's still on in Sam and Dean's room.  Of course, Sam must've kicked Dean out for some face time with his girlfriend, Dean struck out at whatever bar he'd gone to looking for company, and decided to come poke at you for lack of anything more entertaining to do.  It’s a pleasure working with Sam and Dean.  It’s the not-working parts that give you trouble.

You're halfway out of that stupid dress when a fist hammers on your room door hard enough to knock it off the hinges.  "Let me in!  I need to talk to you!" Dean yells.

"Get lost!" you yell back.

"No!"  You hear him swear under his breath.  "You got to the count of three before I get out my lockpicks!  One . . . two . . ."

"All right, all right, all right, shit," you surrender, "gimme a second."  You yank on a pair of leggings and your lucky green Mavs jersey.  Dean all but shoulder-checks you out of the way when you open the door.  "Won't you come in?" you grouch as you shut the door and lock it.

"Don't mind if I do," Dean sarcasms right back.  He turns around and his eyes widen.  Oh right, between the leggings and the lucky green Mavs jersey you look like a chubby leprechaun.  A chubby, braless, saggy titted leprechaun.

"What do you want, Dean?  I'd like to get some sleep since getting drunk's not an option."

“Okay," he counts on fingers, "one, getting drunk is always an option.  And two, why did you just assume I struck out somewhere else?”

“Be-cause you sure as hell weren’t looking for me?” you say, speaking slowly and clearly as one does with drunks, small children, and the obviously delusional.

“I was looking for you!”

“Like hell you were.”  Because like hell he was.

“Yes.  I was.”

“What the hell for, man?”

“Oh I dunno-- I kind of liked acting fake-married and I wanted to spend some time with my fake wife?”

“As opposed to literally anyone else on Earth,” you snap.  This needs to get over with before you start sniveling.  Stress weeping, you’ve done it all your life.

Dean blinks.  He opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it.  “Okay.  Explain something to me.  Why do you think any red-blooded American male with taste would not want to spend time with you?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake--”

“Answer me.”

“You and your brother were practically raised by wolves so let me clue you into one of the unwritten rules of modern etiquette,” you say.  You want to get mad, you need to get mad, but your voice isn’t co-operating.  The joke’s on you because it always is, and you’ve never been a talented enough comedian to take control of it away from the bastards.  “It’s polite to at least wait until the fat freak is out of earshot until you start laughing at her.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Especially when you’re supposed to be aforementioned fat freak’s fucking husband, you douche.”

Closing his eyes and using your name like a parent correcting a naughty child, Dean says, “I.  Wasn’t.  Laughing.  Shit I was this close to knocking that asshole’s teeth out.  Only reason I didn’t is somebody would’ve called the cops and blown our cover.”

You snort.  “Like anybody bought that we were a couple anyway.”

With a look in those beautiful green eyes you can’t read, Dean says, “Why not?”

You point at him.  “All-American eleven.”  You point back at yourself.  “Texas three, and that’s if the lighting is generous.”

“Jesus, babe!”

“Don’t call me that!  Just get out,” you whirl to run for cover in the bathroom and pray it’s got a lock.

Next thing you know you’re smushed against Dean’s chest, wrapped up like a rat in a snake’s coils.  The motherfucker’s cuddling you, swaying a little on his feet and rubbing your back.  You lose it and start sobbing.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” Dean keeps saying as you weep into his shirt.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck are you sorry for?” you snap.  “You’re not the one being a fucking crybaby!”  Over what, some sniggering and the same jokes you’ve been hearing all your damn life?  Christ.  He’s pulled the claws from your anger and all that’s left is humiliation.

"I had no idea you were thinking that,” Dean says.  Something presses against your hair.  You refuse to believe it’s Dean’s lips.  “I thought . . . when we had to get that rent-a-cop’s attention, I thought we had a moment there.”

Oh yeah.  The moment.  When Dean had taken it upon himself to interrupt your fake arguing with a firm kiss that had not felt at all fake.  You’d felt like a fraud all evening, dressed up in that stupid cocktail dress intended for someone a bit taller and a lot thinner and effortlessly outshone by Dean in white tie.  Trying desperately to prune back a totally inappropriate crush is what had driven you to the nearest dingy bar with every intention of slowly drowning your sorrows, having a hardcore mope in the privacy of your room, and moving on in the morning.  Storing the memory of that kiss somewhere dark and safe, only to be pulled out on very special occasions.

You’re sitting down on the bed and Dean’s bringing you a glass of water and a cool washcloth.  With a tenderness you totally wouldn’t have expected, he cleans you up and watches you drain the glass.  “I’m sorry,” you mumble, too embarrassed to look at him.  You might never look at him again.  “I’m a weepy drunk.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Dean says, taking a seat next to you.  “Hey-- look at me a minute.”  With your chin held in the crook of his forefinger, Dean tips your head until your eyes meet.  “I get not wanting to make a habit of blowing your own horn but good God damn, the shit you’ve been saying is just cruel.”

“It’s not cruelty if it’s true Dean.”

“That’s the thing though.  It’s not.”

“Well!  Let’s go from head to toe, shall we?”  Talking over Dean’s protests, you start with your lifeless too wavy to behave and too straight to be interesting hair and end with your ski-barge flat feet and ankles that roll like marbles unless you strap them up like a ballplayer’s.  “And that’s before we get into weird hobbies, picky eating, terminal dullness, self-centered assholery.”

Dean’s gone very pale.  “If I heard anybody saying shit like that about you I’d break their fucking necks.”

“Start with the one and only drunk impaired enough to hit on me at the bar.  Something about putting a sock in my mouth and a bag over my head, and only if he could put it up my ass.  Look, I ain’t pretty, I ain’t rich, and I don’t care.  I just want to get out of the day with a little bit of my goddamned dignity.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“Am I allowed to speak now?” Dean asks.  Before you can say yes no or maybe so he says, “I wasn’t laughing with, at, or anywhere near you.  Sam was having trouble getting out from between those rosebushes and I needed to distract that dumbass with the cane.  The drunk wasn’t the only guy there checking you out.  I mean, does your brain just go bleep whenever anybody says anything nice about you?"

“Add stupid to the list,” you remind yourself.

“Stop it,” he orders.  “You’re not a freak, you’re not stupid, anybody staring at us was jealous, and they were jealous of me, not you,” he heads you off.  “I spent an hour after we got back to the motel pacing a hole in the carpet wondering if I should just grow a sack and come over with some dinner.  Sam finally kicked me out.”

What?

“What?”

“Swear.  Ask him.”

“He’ll lie.”

“Nope.”

If you were a computer you’d be bluescreened.  “You guys could be pranking me.  Of course you’re pranking me,” you say.  “Hah hah, very fucking funny.”

“Right, my brother and I are conspiring to play the world’s least funny joke on a chick who’s got three-tenths of a second and never goes anywhere without two knives and a Beretta nine millimeter,” Dean says dryly.  “Do I look suicidal?  Never mind,” he brushes off.  “Anything I say, you’re not gonna hear.  So let’s try this.”

You’re not ready for Dean to take your face between his hands and kiss you.  Like, really kiss you.  Not a half-angry smack of lips like earlier.  Those perfectly soft, plush lips gently tug at yours and your heart kicks straight into Overdrive.  He sighs into your mouth as you open for his tongue.  "You're so sweet," he murmurs, trailing kisses along your jaw, nibbling on your earlobe.  "I'm gonna find that stupid hoodie you always wear and burn it."

"What?" you ask.

"Are you kidding?" Dean asks you back.  His hand drops to your hip, sliding down your leggings and not finding a ridge.  "I knew it.  No panties either.  Come to the door, no bra, no panties . . ." he trails off as, careful not to pull, he takes the elastic out of your ponytail and spreads your hair in a cool curtain down your back.  "You're so mean, hiding all this from me all this time."

"What?" you can't help but ask again.  This isn't computing, your brain's blown a microchip or two.

"Fuck-- you still think I'm lying or something don't you?"  Dean sighs, closing his eyes.  It's so not fair, even his eyelashes are beautiful.

Your brain tries one last time to cut this off before something irrevocable happens.  “I’m not a pity fuck Dean.”

Dean’s eyes open and fix you with a look that dries your mouth out.  “Good.  I don’t do pity fucks.  Now where were we?  Oh yeah,” he takes one of your hands and kisses the palm, presses it to his cheek.  “This is where you kiss me.”

So you do, tasting whiskey on his breath.  Slow, giving you time, making you wait, he presses a hand up your ribs, caresses up to your tits.  Here it comes, the cringe when he feels the squish and the sag-- there's no cringe.  Why isn't Dean cringing?  God knows you do, and you have to live with the damn things. 

Dean pulls back, staring into your eyes.  He gulps.  “If you want me to stop tell me now,” he says.  When you don’t say anything, he adds, “I’m serious.  If you want me to leave I’ll leave, if you want to just hang out we can do that--”

Of course.  “If you want to go just go already!”

“I don’t-- shit.”  Dean grabs your wrist and presses your hand to his-- “I’m so hard I could break fucking boards.  I don’t want to be anywhere but where I am.  With you.”  His hand flexes, shapes your hand around his bulge.  He’s not lying.  At least not with that part of him.  “When you showed Sam that leg holster I damn near ripped the zipper out of my pants.”

“That was two months ago!”

“My point.  Why do you think I keep calling you for backup?  You’re smart, you’re tough, you’re fucking beautiful.  Jesus, I thought . . . I couldn’t figure out why you weren’t picking up the hints I was dropping.  Why do you think I volunteered to dress up and do the monkey dance?  I hate hanging around rich bastards!”

“Free finger sandwiches?”

Dean opens his mouth, closes it again and shrugs.  “The crab and cream cheese ones were pretty good.  Point is,” he says, and he’s not holding your hand any more and you can . . . that’s him, hot and hard and with no reason to lie.  “Point is I’m here because I wanna be.  So it’s your call.”

Something in you goes click and it hits you all over again just how fucking beautiful he is, all strong jaw and shining eyes and perfectly kissable fucking lips.  God damn it, you think as you feel the first high hit your brain, you do not need to be falling in love right now.  Not now, not here, not with this man.

There are, however, two very powerful factors working against your common sense.  Heterosexuality and eyesight.  “Stay?  I want you to stay.”

“Oh thank God.”  Dean pulls you close, grunting with you as he lays back on the bed.  “Climb aboard,” he laughs as the two of you make a mess of getting your legs up off the floor.

“I can’t, I’ll hurt your back--”

“No.  You won’t,” Dean tells you as he rolls you underneath him, a knee pressing between yours and opening a space for his body.  “I’m not hurting yours am I?  Pretty sure I’m bigger than you.”

“I . . . what’re you doing?”

Dean looks up from where he’s been kissing down your chest, on the fabric of your jersey.  “Kissing you.  What do they call it on your planet?”

“You’re being a tease!”

Grunting a negative, Dean says, “I’m on a mission now.  I’m gonna make you forget every minute of bad sex you’ve ever had.  And all I need from you is a little patience.  Can you do that for me honey?  Can you be patient for me?”

“Oh-- okay,” you agree.

That proves difficult.  Dean’s just . . . touching you.  His fingertips find your nipples, stroking them in itty-bitty arcs until they’ve poked up against your shirt.  All the blood and sensation in your body pounds downstairs.  Oh God, you’re soaking into your leggings, you can feel the fabric sticking to your pussy.  Protective reflexes are going by the boards; there’s no evidence Dean’s just waiting for you to take a hint and suck him off or give him your ass or something.

You gasp as he touches your damp crotch.  Christ your clit’s throbbing so hard it hurts.  Dean takes his fingers, sniffs at them.  You feel your face get hot.  No time to get a shower; you must fucking stink.

As though reading your mind Dean pushes your thighs further apart.  Hot lips fall to the wet patch between and you cry out, “Fuck!”

“Can’t resist,” Dean says without looking up.  More heat as his tongue presses to your wet tights and you writhe as Dean hums the yummy hum.  “Never understood that,” he says to himself, pressing and caressing until your entire center throbs against the hot material of your wet leggings.  “How can any man who loves pussy resist going down on one?”

“Dunno,” you manage.  Your fingers claw into the bedspread, taking up huge handfuls of cheap printed polyblend.  “Oh God, fuck,” you whine.  “Dean, please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, sucking your honey from your leggings with an obscene sclurp.  Off he shucks his blue button-up and black T-shirt.  Oh fuck, how he manages to keep such a beautiful body on a diet of no sleep, max stress, and all the grease is a modern science mystery.  The flies on his jeans are undone too, and through his open zipper you can see his oh my poking up against his briefs.

You sit up and grab his face in a kiss.  Dean opens to you with a little surprised squeak.  Your tits drop and jiggle as he pulls your T-shirt off and throws it somewhere.  His hands feel like warm suede on your skin, all strong fingers.  You bite your lips on a moan as Dean kisses down and around and not where you need.  Holding you in place with a hand between your shoulderblades, he just keeps making you wait.  Lips and tongue and rough whisker-shadowed cheeks driving you clear out of your mind.  When Dean’s lips finally close around your painfully tight nipple you clench.  Your fingers sink into his soft hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“Ouch!”

“Shit!” you yelp, shoving Dean away.  “I’m sorry!  Are you okay?  I didn’t--"

Dean shuts you up with a kiss.  “I’m fine.  Just gotta get my boots off.”  He kisses you again.  “Don’t move.”  You don’t.  You just watch as he sits up and bends to untie his laces.  How does he do it, make every move look totally natural and artfully choreographed at the same fucking time?

“Lose the tights,” Dean orders, “or I rip them off of you.  I’m not kidding.”

He sure as fuck doesn’t look like it and you peel off your leggings.  Now it’ll come-- the little cringe when he sees the wiry hair between your legs, more twig pile than bush.  And the doughy look of your thighs.  And the stretch marks low on your belly.  And the literally everything because--

Dean shucks out of his jeans and naked, naked, he is naked now, nakedness is happening.  Something in your brain short-circuits.  Dean by-God Winchester.  Naked.  Bed is also there.  With you on it.  Also naked.  So much nakedness.

And good Lord he’s beautiful.  All the way to the wide head of his cock.  Which is hard.  Pulsing.  Leaking tiny beads of precome.  Which you can see because he’s naked with no clothes on.  Looking at you, Dean gulps.  “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

Don’t lie to me, you almost say, you don’t have to lie to me.  You can’t say it.  Not with Dean’s cock staring up at you.  Dean hisses through his teeth as you curl your hand around him.  “Hang on a sec, hold on, shit,” he says.  He fishes in his jeans pocket and slips you a condom.  “Wanna do the honors?”

“Sure.”  You can’t resist playing with that beautiful cock some more, making Dean squirm and flush.  Please Lord let this not be a one-time-only happening, you need time to enjoy this cock.  Pet it, kiss it, lavish it with affection.

When he’s finally wrapped up, Dean pulls you underneath him.  His hips fuck forward, rubbing his latex-covered cock along your soaked cunt.  “There we go,” Dean says as you reach between your bodies and fit him to you.  The air leaves you as Dean thrusts home, gliding and stretching and feeling fucking perfect.  “Fuck,” Dean whispers.  “Oh my fuck you feel good.  Knew you would,” he kisses your cheeks, your eyelids, nibbles on your neck hard enough you know you’ll be wearing marks in the morning.  He reaches up to cup your face and you moan when you feel the cool arc of the fake wedding band on his finger.

Even through the thin barrier of the condom Dean’s blazing hot inside you.  Instead of how it normally is during sex -- a vaguely pleasant rubbing that doesn’t really add up to anything -- as he moves, God it feels like he’s stroking up against every feel-good nerve in your body.  Not just with his cock, he’s pressed against your entire body, like he’s enjoying having all of you touching all of him, like he really isn’t grossed out by any of you.  For the first time in your life the sounds you’re making are totally unprompted; you’re not going for an effect, you physically cannot keep quiet with Dean making you feel this.  He’s making sounds too, dirty and sweet and they’re turning you on so fucking much.

Dean pauses.  “Don’t,” you cry, so softly.  Like this is a dream and you’ll wake yourself up to an empty bed and a tear-stained pillow.

“I’m not,” he says, kissing you and groaning when you quiver around him.  “Next time it’ll be slower.  Better.  I promise.”  Your brain’s still melting from the implications of the words slower and better when Dean shifts his weight a little and his hips start working in earnest.  He’s . . . somehow this magic fucking man’s rubbing your swollen clit and fucking you so beautifully, you’re afraid of the feelings building and building and building--

You choke back a wail as everything crashes into white sparks and you come in a full-bodied clench.  Christ it hits so hard your vision actually goes weird a second.  Dean cries out as your cunt clamps down on him.  His back arches on a final slam of a thrust and he moans his climax out loud to God and anyone else who might be listening.

“Oh man,” he heaves, collapsing on top of you in a hot press of skin and muscle, “that was awesome.”

A giggle pops out of you.  “Off.  Squishing.”  You ooze out from under Dean’s body and wobble upright on shaking legs.  Oh woah.  This is gonna hurt tomorrow.

After using the facilities you wash your hands and splash some water on your face.  You catch sight of your night-dark reflection in the mirror, lit only by the streetlight coming through the window.  Even in the gloom you can see whisker-burn on your skin and red marks on your neck because holy fuck you just had sex with Dean Winchester.

Your knees start trembling and you brace your hands on the counter.  Sex.  Sex.  Sexsexsexsex . . . your brain stutters.  Through the closed door you hear movement.  Of course.  Dean’s getting dressed and running for the hills.  Filing you away in his mental Regrets folder.  You linger there, staring down into the sink because you can’t bear to look at the marks Dean’s left on you.  I don’t do pity fucks your ass.

Quiet outside the door.   He must be dressed by now.  Maybe he’s already gone and you just didn’t hear the door.  Dean can be damned quiet when he wants.  God you’re tired.  You need sleep.  Reset the system.  Give yourself a chance to wake up from this dream.

Dean hasn’t left.  He hasn’t gotten dressed either.  He’s lying to the left, curled up a little on his side.  At the sound of your feet scuffing the carpet, his eyes open and he smiles.  “C’mere baby.  Come to Papa.”

You chuckle.  “Gotta love a man who loves the Silver Bullet Band.”

Dean’s eyelids lower and his lip curves into a come hither leer.  “If life is haaard to understand,” he sings in a low, tuneful, fucking erotic baritone, “and your life gettin outta haaaaand . . .”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you say.  Dean holds up the covers and you slip into bed.  Reflex has you perched far to the side, leaving plenty of space for Dean.  You take up more than your fair share of everything, including the bed meant for two.

Dean demonstrates his disagreement by pulling you close and tucking you next to him.  Like he a cuddler or something, like he actually doesn’t mind having your naked skin touching him.  Like he enjoys it or something.  Making a sleepy noise, Dean kisses you.  “You okay?”

Boy that’s a complicated question.  “Ask me again in the morning.”

“’Kay.”  Like a cat sinking itself into a cushion, Dean stretches and shimmies deeper into the blankets.  In the process, one of his arms goes around you, warm and heavy.  Your common sense is MIA.  Nothing’s telling you to take it easy, remember what you are, be careful with your feelings.  Your mind is quiet, peaceful.  You’re safe here.  You can lie here and be safe, for just a little while.

Just for a little while.

---

AN2: Ya know, I think this song's within Mr. Ackles's vocal range . . . um, 'scuse me, I think my ovaries just melted. 😉

[quietwings-fics]

a small detail

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Samifer (and Dean & Sam) Additional Tags: Soulless Sam Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Double Drabble, Wedding Rings, Worried Dean Winchester, Angst Wordcount: 200 Prompt:

samifer, "my husband"

A small detail in the whirlwind of Sam's last day on Earth, that before Lucifer takes him from Detroit, he slides the wedding ring off his former vessel's finger.

That turns out not to have been Sam's last day at all, and then Sam's sitting across from Dean, perfectly fine (something's wrong), and there's a ring on his finger, still.

"Where did you get that?" he asks, like he doesn't already know. He wants an answer that doesn't scare him.

Sam shrugs.

Sometimes he presses the metal to his lips. Not a kiss. Like he wants a taste of grief.

----

Sam's wall is broken, and Dean knows, whatever his brother claims, that there's molten metal leaking in, cooling on his skin only to entrap him further. The gold band on his left hand is a constant reminder.

Dean takes it off only once, when Sam's asleep in the passenger seat. He tosses it out the window of the Impala.

That night, he wakes up to Sam kneeling in their motel room. Dean stays still, silent.

A gleam of gold in the dark on Sam's folded hands.

"…until death do us part," he's whispering, head tilted up to meet unseen eyes.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[fandom-hoarder]

When Sam is 4 and Dean is 8, John drags them to a hunters house. Apparently Pastor Jim is officiating a hunter wedding and John is in the area and thinks why not. They don't get to be around other people very often and it gives him an excuse to let the boys run around safely.

The wedding is quick and the beer and food are passed around. Sammy asks Dean why the grown ups kissed.

"they got married Sammy. It means they'll be together forever." Dean explains as he fixes him and Sammy a plate of whatever is being served.

"can we get married De? I want to be with you forever." Sammy asks with those wide eyes that Dean can never say no to.

"brothers can't get married Sammy." He hates how Sammy cries the rest of the night.

They are 15 and 19. Sam is doing research for John and Dean on a cursed object and finds a silver ring with warding symbols etched on it. He checks with Bobby to make sure it's safe to keep and once Bobby gives him the ok he takes it.

"here" Sam tosses the ring at Dean.

"the hell is this?" Dean looks at the ring, annoyed mostly because Sam just chunked it at him.

"I can change my last name and we can get married." Sam and Dean had been doing whatever"this" was for about 2 years. Sam is madly in love with Dean and Dean is madly in love with Sam but keeps the tough guy no chick flick moments act up.

"whatever Sam." He tosses the ring on the bed, he doesn't miss how Sam's face breaks and how quickly Sam runs out of the house. He wishes he wasn't such an asshole.

It's years later when Dean brings it up. Sam's soul is put back and the wall is secured in his mind when Dean asks Sam to marry him. At first Sam thinks Dean is being a jerk bringing up something from their childhood. It's not until he drops on one knee and presents Sam with a ring that Sam finally believes it.

Anon 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I love when they talk about marriage as innocent weechesters, but then one of them doesn't let it go.

Idk if you meant it this way, but I imagined that first ring Sam found to be the one Dean wore in early seasons. Sam kept it hidden away in his stuff when Dean rejected it, but left it behind when he went to Stanford. Dean found it and wore it every day since. When Dean gets him from Stanford, at first Sam doesn't think it's the same ring, but it doesn't take long to realize.

But everything between them then feels too fragile--too volatile--to bring it up. And so much happens and keeps happening, and Dean hasn't said anything even though they're TOGETHER-together again, and Sam hasn't brought it up because he feels guilty; undeserving; unclean. He has too many secrets.

And then Sam is throwing rings again--four of them, magically fused. Dives into the pit and gets swallowed up.

And then he's waking up, and Dean is there, and Bobby is there.

And it's literally just days later that Dean proposes, and Sam pinches himself (and Dean) to check if he's dreaming. Maybe he actually died from his Fall and went to Heaven.

But it is real. And Sam knows Dean is going to mock him for his happy tears, but he doesn't care. Dean's gonna have to deal with saltwater kisses for a bit.

[castiowl]

It's Not Traditional a lil dean/cas proposal ficlet

Dean’s not sure how he always gets saddled with popcorn duty, although he’ll be the first to admit this time he’s not too bothered by it. Sam had picked out Four Weddings and a Funeral for movie night and the aforementioned funeral is about to happen and Dean would rather not weep like a baby in front of Sam, Eileen, and Cas when Matthew recites that Auden poem.

As the popcorn bag spins in the microwave, slowly inflating, Dean considers all that’s changed in the past few months. He wasn’t sure someone could survive changing as much as he has, but then again maybe he hadn’t changed so much as he has just accepted who he is. Someone who loves Cas, first of all. Best of all. Someone who loves men and has loved men for a very long time and that’s okay. Relatedly, someone who can now openly comment on Hugh Grant’s veritable attractiveness in front of his brother, his friend, and his—what? What are they? Boyfriends? They’re not in high school, although the giddiness Dean still feels even months after the fact when Cas presses a hand to his lower back or steals a quick kiss from him at the breakfast table before shuffling off to make coffee, makes it feel a lot like obsessive, all-encompassing high school love. Dean is thrumming with it, a smile always moments away.

[Read on AO3]

Dean has also accepted that he is someone who can sit down with his brother, his friend, and his whatever and watch Four Weddings and a Funeral and only grouse about it being a chick flick for thirty seconds (he hasn’t completely tossed his reputation for hating girly shit in the trash; but he’ll never admit it’s because the girly shit makes him soft and he’s not sure his heart can take that right now) before accepting Sam’s declaration that ”it’s a classic” and absolutely required watching for Cas. Plus Eileen points out it’s one of the only movies with a deaf character whose entire plot isn’t centered around the fact that he’s deaf, even if he is a minor character.

The microwave beeps at him and he empties the contents into a bowl. As he nears the doorway to the movie and gaming den, he’s disappointed to note that Sam apparently paused the movie when Dean left. Great. He could feign a headache, he supposes, but then there is a delightful little thought that maybe Cas will take pity on his sorry, weeping self and let Dean spend the rest of the movie curled against him on the couch in his arms. They try to keep the PDA to a minimum with Sam around, but this is what he gets for bringing Four Weddings and a Funeral into the mix. He’s a sadist and he gets what he deserves.

Dean’s about to round the corner into the room when he hears his name and pauses. He hesitates because he likes to consider himself an adult who understands boundaries, but he’s also Dean Winchester and if Sam wants to talk shit about him behind his back, then Dean deserves to hear about it so he can retaliate accordingly. He’s thinking Miracle needs a bath and maybe Sam’s bedroom is the perfect place to let loose a 60-pound sopping wet dog to dry himself off on his bedsheets.

“I suppose I never considered it,” Cas is saying, his voice low but carrying in the quiet of the room. “There isn’t much that’s traditional about what we are.”

“Sure, yeah, true,” Sam replies. “But it’s not just about tradition, y’know. Anyway, I was just curious. You guys don’t have to do anything, obviously. But I just…” There’s a pause and Dean can almost perfectly conjure the image of Cas’s prying look in his mind, aimed right at Sam. “Dean’s a romantic,” Sam says finally.

Dean frowns at that, a protest rising in his throat before he can remind himself that given the last three months, he has absolutely no leg to stand on. He is a romantic. Gross.

“Well, I’m sure if Dean wanted to get married, he would tell me.”

The bowl of popcorn slips from Dean’s hands and lands with an impossibly loud clang on the floor. Married. The word has Dean completely flustered and he’s still reeling when Miracle comes trotting out of the room to investigate, spots the popcorn, and goes absolutely feral, licking up the popcorn like it’s his last meal on earth.

“Agh! Miracle! Stop it! Fuck,” Dean makes an aborted attempt to stop Miracle, but he looks like he’s discovered the holy grail, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he hoovers up the popcorn.

“Dean?”

Dean glances up from where he’s on his knees, holding an empty bowl as Miracle frantically cleans up the mess he made.

Married.

“Hey,” Dean says and his voice cracks like the fucking traitor it is. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I’ll have to make another bowl.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

It’s not a question. But Cas has this little quirk of a smile on his face that has Dean’s heart pounding in his ears.

Married.

“Uh, yeah, well. Heard my name and had to make sure Sammy wasn’t telling lies about me.”

Cas huffs a laugh and leans against the doorway. Dean’s still on the floor and he thinks about standing but he’s not entirely sure his legs would hold him up because—

MARRIED.

“Well, Dean, you tell me. Was Sam lying?”

“Lying?”

“Would you like to get married?”

Just like that. Dean will never admit to this, but privately he has thought about it. Big romantic gestures involving flowers and music, and quieter proposals whispered in the dark, in their bedroom, against the nape of Cas’s neck. Dean’s always been too scared, too unsure of Cas and his thoughts on the decidedly antiquated ritual of marriage. Cas saying no is basically the worst thing Dean can imagine, and he’s seen some shit in his time. Besides, it’s only been three months.

Cas’s eyebrow has risen in a silent question. Well?

“Jesus, Cas, you can’t just ask me that like…”

“No, of course not,” Cas agrees. “And you’re already on your knees. Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me,” he repeats and Dean can see the mirth in his eyes. The little shit loves seeing Dean squirm, but two can play at that game. Dean pulls one leg up so he’s down on one knee, the proper stance if he’s going to do this. Which, holy shit, he thinks he’s going to do this.

“Make an honest man outta me, Cas,” Dean says.

Cas rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “Sam said you were a romantic.”

“What? That was romantic as hell.”

Cas reaches out a hand and Dean takes it. Cas pulls him to his feet. “You didn’t even tell me you loved me,” Cas points out.

Dean pulls himself into Cas’s space, their hands still clasped between them. “I also don’t have a ring,” Dean says.

“Well,” Cas says and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, Dean following the movement with great interest, “nothing we’ve done so far has been traditional. Perhaps we should keep it that way.”

Dean’s heart sinks. He should’ve figured as much. It’s not like they need something as basic as marriage to solidify what they have. It’s already perfect. Don’t fix what ain’t broke, right?

“But,” Cas continues thoughtfully, “I think I would like this to be our one exception.”

Dean swallows down the anxiety building behind his sternum. “Really?”

Cas smiles widely at that, his nose crinkling in that way that makes Dean understand why people swoon when they’re in love in old movies. Fuck, he really loves this guy.

“Marry me,” Cas says.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean replies and closes the distance between them with a fervent kiss. Cas inhales sharply and returns the kiss enthusiastically, although it’s clear they’re both fighting not to smile.

Someone clears their throat from the doorway.

Dean pulls back. He and Cas stare at one another and Dean sees reflected in Cas’s eyes what he’s feeling: pure, unadulterated, passionate love. And maybe a little lust, but it’s mostly love, Dean swears.

“If you guys are done being gross, we still have the movie to finish,” Sam says.

Dean finally looks over at his brother in the doorway who is trying his best to look peeved, but he can’t help smiling.

“Perhaps we can finish another time,” Cas says, turning to look at Sam. “My fiancé and I have some business to discuss regarding our upcoming nuptials.” He turns back to Dean and adds, “In our bedroom.”

Sam feigns gagging. “Spare me the details. Congrats or whatever. Now fuck off.”

“Gladly,” Dean replies and pulls Cas back down the hallway toward their bedroom. Dean has one thought before he lets his mind become saturated in all the simple, lurid thoughts that come with sex: Dean is going to marry the shit out of Cas.

[deancasheadcanons]

Something Only I Would Know

[ao3]

1.7k words

15x20 fix-it (kinda), warning for Dean being ableist, thanks to @saywhatjessie for letting me use her headcanon that Dean could’ve been paralyzed by the rusty nail

Just as Dean was hoisting his left leg onto his bed, one of the phones rang in the library. He sighed and moved his leg rest back into place, then wheeled out to the hallway, hoping he could get to the phone in time. Sam was on a hunt with Eileen out in Iowa, and Jody and Claire were taking out some werewolves up in Nowhere, Michigan, but other than that, nobody else should be calling. 

He didn’t make it in time. As he sifted through the phones to figure out where the missed call came from, something crashed in the kitchen.

“Who’s there?” he yelled forcefully, grabbing a shotgun from a table before pushing himself to the kitchen.

“Son of a bitch,” a familiar voice said just as Dean turned the corner.

He looked right at himself, all six-foot-one of himself standing in the middle of the kitchen, his legs working just fine.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” other Dean said, progressively raising his voice until the end of the sentence was a shout. He glared up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna kill you, Chuck!”

“Which universe are you from?” Dean asked calmly.

Other Dean glared down at him, jaw clenched. “The real one. And you’re obviously from one where I’m bad enough at my job to land myself in a goddamn wheelchair. That’s real great.”

“No,” Dean said, sizing his other self up. “You’re too much like me.” A memory came back to him, something he said to himself in a situation similar to this one, years ago. “Tell me something only I would know.”

“Oh come on, don’t quote me to me.” Other Dean took a beer out of the fridge and tossed the cap in the direction of the trash can. “Although if you’re from a different universe, I guess you wouldn’t have a memory of that. I must just say the same shit in every version of myself.”

“I do have a memory of it.” 

They glared at each other.

Dean said, “Camp Chitaqua.”

Other Dean blinked. “Yeah, OK.” He took a long pull from his beer, staring pointedly at the wheelchair as he did. “What year is it?”

“It’s 2022.”

Other Dean dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Ah, fuck. How’d we end up crippled?”

“No. Tell me something only I would know.”

Other Dean stared at him, annoyed. He lost the staring contest after half a minute, shaking his head and scoffing and then taking another long drink of beer. He then looked down at the table and said loudly, “Cas.”

“Excuse me?”

Other Dean raised his eyes. “He told me he loved—he said he loved me. And that he realized he couldn’t have what he wanted. And then the Empty took him.”

Dean ran his tongue along his top teeth. “OK, you are me.” He pushed his wheelchair forward and moved the shotgun from his lap to the table. “And you must be from 2020.”

“Oh goddamn it, I’m gonna lose my legs that soon?” Other Dean stood and said, “Christ, I need a stronger drink.”

“We don’t have anything stronger.”

“What?”

“I don’t drink anymore. The beer is for everybody else that comes through here.”

Other Dean sat back down. “Is Sam—”

“On a hunt with Eileen. Everybody’s fine. Well, except.” Dean gestured to the room and shook his head. 

“Except your legs?”

He leveled himself with an impatient glare. “No. It’s a C7 spinal cord injury, and it’s really not that big of a fucking deal. I was talking about Cas.”

Other Dean looked at his beer bottle, picking at the label with his thumbs. “Chuck is trying to show us that we have no free will. He threw me here to prove that I can’t change anything about our lives.”

“Oh, like The Time Traveler’s Wife?”

Other Dean made a face at him, but then his eyebrows raised in realization. “Right, we read that a couple years ago. Man, I forgot about that. Yeah. Like, why would I try to bring Cas back if I’m sitting here with you now, and you’re telling me Cas never came back? So what’s the point of me trying to bring him back if I already know he’s not here in 2022?”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together as he thought for a minute. Eventually he said, “I know you’re me because I never told anybody that Cas is in love with me.”

“Whoa, whoa, he didn’t say—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Dean swallowed. “Let me tell you something, alright? You’re gonna spend a couple months having no fucking idea what to do with yourself, no clue how to cope, so you and Sam are gonna try to do some run-of-the-mill hunts, and guess what? On the very first one you’re gonna break your fucking back after being impaled on some shitty nail in the wall. You’re gonna spend six months laid up in bed feeling sorry for yourself, drinking yourself stupid, wanting to die, praying yourself hoarse to Cas, and Cas is not gonna fucking show up!” 

He took a ragged breath and continued, “And Jack doesn’t either. And then Sam’s gonna tell you that he needs you to get your shit together, and it’s not because he needs your help saving the world or even just needs your help on a hunt, it’s because he wants to get married, wants to marry Eileen, so you’re gonna put your sorry life back together enough to be the best man at your brother’s wedding, and that’s when you’re gonna realize that there’s more to your shit life than the selfish things that you want—things like, I don’t know, being able to walk? And having Cas.” He closed his eyes. “You’re gonna realize that Cas meant that he was in love with you, that he wanted to be with you, and you’re gonna have to deal with the enormity of that. That this—that a being so ancient and so huge and literally so incomprehensible to you that your ears bled the first time you heard him speak—that he could learn love? From your sorry ass? Look at me, Dean. Listen to what I’m saying to you.” 

He waited until other Dean looked him in the eye. “Eventually you’re gonna accept the fact that Cas lived thousands of years without doing anything other than following the will of heaven, never changing course, only to meet you and learn love so completely that the only thing he wants is to be with you. The first selfish, human desire of his life. You. And you didn’t even get the time to process it, to tell him that you love him, too, before he was gone. So the best you can do is try to actually live your fucking life, because he died to save you.”

The silence between them was heavy. Eventually other Dean said, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I never told anybody. Listen to me, Chuck said Cas didn’t do what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you—us. He changed things when he told you. So you can change things, too. Go back to your time and fucking tell somebody. Is Jack still around? For fuck’s sake, tell Jack.”

“I can’t—everything you just told me, I can’t—I haven’t…”

“Dean, listen. I know. I know how you feel. I know you, and I know you don’t trust yourself, but look at me. I’m different than you, alright? You can trust me. I just threw two years of emotional processing at you, of course you can’t deal with that. But you can do just one thing. Just one. Tell Jack.”

Other Dean studied his face. “You really are different.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged and looked at his legs. “Turns out being loved by a cosmic being changes you.”

“And being paralyzed.”

“No, trust me, that’s easier to deal with.”

Other Dean huffed a small laugh and nodded. “Uh, what are you gonna do? What happens now?”

“Don’t worry about me, you just—”

A loud crack cut Dean off, then his other self disappeared out of existence. He looked around the kitchen warily, as if something dramatic was about to happen. Instead, a phone once again began ringing in the library. 

As Dean wheeled through the hallway, he felt a splitting headache and had to stop and close his eyes. Images flashed through his brain, mostly of him and Cas, and then they abruptly stopped and he felt fine. The phone was still ringing.

He only made it a few more feet before the headache returned, worse than before. Images, so fast and loud in his head that it felt like his brain would explode. When they stopped, he blinked his eyes open and had a realization. 

“It’s not The Time Traveler’s Wife. It’s—” he did a 180 in his wheelchair and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Cas standing at the end of the hall. “ — Looper.”

“Ah, we’ve finally caught up, then?” Cas said shyly as he walked toward Dean. He squatted in front of him, not in a patronizing way, but as a gesture of trust, submission. “You said it would be soon. You made me watch Looper so I would understand . Does your head feel alright?”

Dean put his hand to Cas’ face, delicately, like he might disappear if he touched him too much. “Cas.”

Cas turned his head and kissed Dean’s palm, then held his hand against his face and smiled at him. “I’m right here.”

The memories kept coming back to Dean, the changed timeline, his past self defeating Chuck and immediately telling Jack that he had to bring Cas back because he never got the chance to tell him he loved him, too. Then—still getting hurt on a hunt, still needing time to process and adjust, to give up drinking, learn how to accept Cas’ love and to love Cas properly in return—but easier this time, because Cas was there. Cas gave him space and time, all while loving him and taking care of him.

Dean took a deep breath. “C’mere, Cas.”

He didn’t wait. He pulled Cas up into his arms and buried his face in his neck and said, “I love you, you can have me. You can have me forever.”

Cas laughed gently. “I know, Dean. I love you, too.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTES:

The Time Traveler's Wife (book) - Henry has no agency and no free will because he time travels randomly to different parts of his life and therefore knows everything that happens before it happens, and can't change any of it.

Looper (movie) - When people time travel to the past and try to change their lives, their memories change in the present as the timeline of their lives change.

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

The Deal

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.1k

Summary: You made a deal for your soul to bring Sam back.

Warnings: explicit language, angst, a bit of fluff and hurt

a/n: This is part 1 of the Control series. I hope all of you like this fic!!!!!

There you stood in the middle of the crossroads, you set the metal tin container in the hole in the gravel. You covered it with the rough rocks and you stood back. You wiped the tears off your face as you looked around. 

You wanted the stupid demon to show up so you could make a deal. You downed the rest of the whiskey and you tossed it across the road. It shattered on the gravel as you got more frustrated.

“Come on, you red-eyed bitch!” You yelled as you looked around.

“Quiet, hun. You’ll wake the neighbors.” Came a voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with red eyes. You scowled at her before you sighed and rubbed your temple. “Would you look at this? Little Y/n/n Winchester making deals with demons.” 

“I need my husband back.” You said, as more tears filled your eyes. 

“You’re pathetic.” She scoffed, and you growled as your anger bubbled up. 

“I want ten years just like everyone else.” You said as she stared you down. She laughed mockingly as she circled you. 

“You’re not everyone else.” She stated and pointed at you. 

You sighed and let out a sniffle. “Five years.” She shook her head. “Three years.” Still, she disagreed. “Two years. Deal or no deal.” You said and she walked up till her lips were inches away from yours. 

“Then no deal.” She whispered. and pulled away with a laugh. 

“Please, I have no one. Dean won’t talk to me and Bobby won’t even look me in the eyes.” You sighed, as a few tears fell down your cheeks. She hesitates before turning back around. 

“I’ll give you one year and one only. You try to wrench or wiggle your way out of the deal, Sam drops dead.” She warned, and you walked over to her. “Do we have a deal?” She asked, and you gripped the back of her head and kissed her lips.

You pull away and let go of her head. “Deal.” You whispered, and she smirked before she disappeared. You sighed and you felt a stronghold deep inside of you, but you walked to your jeep. 

You get into the driver’s seat and you drop your head down on the steering wheel. You leaned back as tears streamed down your face when the weight of what you just did hit you.

You wiped your tears before starting to drive back to the cabin. You parked and got out as you sniffled quietly wanting nothing more than to cuddle up with your husband. 

You walked in and froze when you saw Dean hugging someone. They pulled away and you saw it was Sam and your heart swelled. You walked up to him and he smiled at you. You cupped his face softly as more tears fell down your cheeks.

“Is that you?” You asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Sam asked with a chuckle, and you smiled and kissed him passionately. He placed his hands on your hips as he kissed back with just as much passion. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his. 

“I thought I lost you.” You whispered, and he shook his head.

“I could never leave you.” He whispered, and you two pulled away when you heard Dean clear his throat. You turned to him and saw the look on his face and you sighed. 

“Hey, Y/n. Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” Dean asked, and you looked at him and nodded. You two walked outside and he growled. “What did you do?!”

“What do you think I did?” You asked with a snark.

“How many years did you get?” You stayed silent. “Y/n?”

“A year.” You sighed, and his eyes went wide as he looked at you.

“Are you kidding me? A damn year?” He asked and he looked away and ran a hand over his face.

“I needed him back. You needed him.” You said and he shook his head. 

“I didn’t want him back like this.” He stated and started off to the house. “I gotta tell him.” 

“Dean, no!” You yelled and grabbed his arm and he turned around. “Please, he can’t know.” You pleaded with tears in your eyes. 

“Fine, but you have to tell him.” He sighed, and you let go of his arm. 

“Thank you.” You whispered and blinked away your tears and you went back to the cabin. How were you going to tell him about your deal?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You packed up the guns in the back of the Impala and you looked at your beautiful Opal wedding ring. You remembered getting married in the crappy chapel in Vegas but it was the happiest day of your life. You two were so happy and to this day you still are.

After losing Sam then almost losing him again, you just wanted to cuddle up with him till the hounds come and take you. The devil’s gate has been closed and Azazel is dead, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders. 

You had no idea how to tell Sam about your deal. You knew he would be mad, but you were afraid of him leaving you. You sighed and leaned against the trunk of the car.

“You okay, baby?” Sam asked from behind you, and you jumped a bit and turned around to him.

“Yeah. It’s just been a long day.” You said, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“It has. I’m happy that you’re safe.” He smiled, and he kissed your forehead softly. You smiled and you knew you had to tell him. 

“Me too.” You whispered, then you pulled away. “I gotta tell you something.” You sighed and placed your hands on his chest.

“What’s wrong, sweets?” He asked with a concerned look on his face. Your heart throbbed with heartbreak as you looked at his face.

“Um, when that kid stabbed you, you did die. Technically.” You stated, and you kept your eyes on the buttons of his flannel. “And I made a deal to get you back.” 

His heart dropped. You made a deal for him? He couldn’t live without you. You were his rock, his love, his queen. But that was probably why you did what you did because you loved him. 

“Baby, no.” He sighed, as he saw your tears knowing that you weren’t lying. He had tears of his own in his eyes as he looked at you. “How long?”

“A year.” You croaked out as your voice cracked. His tears fell and he pulled you to his chest. You sobbed as you tugged on his shirt. 

“Why did you do that?” He asked, with a small sniffle. 

“I couldn’t let you die.” You whispered, as your tears soaked his shirt. “I need you.” 

“But, baby, I need you.” He whispered, and you looked up at him and pressed your lips to his. You two were going to figure this out together.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer has made an enemy with an unsub. The team believes it’s over after they catch him, but they don’t realize one big detail; unsub isn’t working alone and that partner has gone after Spencer’s girl. Will Spencer make it in time to save her? 

// Anon request: can u do one where reid saves the reader from getting kidnapped or shot pls🥺🥺 //

// Anon request:  ok this might be confusing but can u do one where the team goes on a case, but like the unsub actually had a partner back at reid and the readers apartment and kidnaps her and he gets super like protective and cute and like awe reid is so baby🥺🥺 // 

A/N: sucker for angst. So I combined these two requests because they’re so similar. I steered away from the request a little and may have gotten carried away while writing it, but I’m kind of proud of this one. Thank you both for your request! I hope you enjoy :) xx 

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER

WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO LOOK THIS DAMN SEXY UGH 

Finally, the BAU team tracked down the unsub. Currently he is in custody, chained to the interrogation desk. This was the man who’d taunted the BAU team for months. He’d sent them on numerous goose chases and they finally caught up to him when he made a mistake, which then led to his capture. This man got under Spencer’s skin the last time they faced him and since then Spencer did everything in his power to find him and take him down.

The first time they had caught up to the man at his home, they were all shocked to the core, Spencer specifically. Inside the home, the team found a room dedicated to photos of him and his wife, in their home, his wife at the grocery store, the two of them on dates. The man had been following them, taking photos of them, invading their privacy. Spencer was sick at the thought and since then, he couldn’t sleep until he knew his wife was safe. Until he knew the man was put behind bars.

The man had killed numerous women, up and down the coast. They caught up to him outside of Georgetown and when they arrived at his home, he’d already slipped away into the darkness. The man had laid low for a few weeks, then the murders began again, this time, the women favoring Spencer’s wife. Spencer and the team knew exactly who was behind these murders. He was back, this time in a small town on the coast of South Carolina. After the 3rd woman, the man made a mistake and slipped up, allowing the team to finally put an end to this.

However, the BAU team made a mistake, a very big one. They’d missed key information, that could potentially put the woman Spencer loved in danger.

Spencer stood across from the man that had tormented him and his wife for months, anger boiling inside him. It took everything he had not to reach across the table and strangle the man.

“This is the end for you. You’re facing charges for over 20 women up and down the east coast.” He slammed his hands against the metal table, “You’re facing the death penalty. You will get what you deserve!”

The unsub smirked, “Oh but Dr. Reid, this isn’t the end. You really didn’t think I would leave without making sure your suffering will continue?” He sits a little straighter in his seat, leaning forward, “Tell me Dr. Reid, have you spoke to your wife today? Told her you loved her?”

Spencer straightens, fear washing over him. He hadn’t spoke to you today. He was caught up in the case to bother to call you. The unsub began to laugh wickedly, seeing Spencer’s fear. Spencer then stormed out of the interrogation room, the rest of the team waiting by the door. Hotch already on the phone, “We need officer’s at (you and Spencer’s address) right now!”

The team was in South Carolina, you were back at your home in Quantico. He checked the time. It was Thursday, 5:43 pm. You would have been on your way home from work by now. You would have stopped by the grocery store on 4th to get groceries to cook dinner. Thursday’s were chicken night. He knew you probably would have splurged and bought a bottle of wine for yourself along with cookies. Cookies were your weakness.

Spencer’s hands began to shake, “How could we have missed this?” He roughly runs his hands through his hair. How could he have missed that this unsub had a partner? How could he be so stupid?

“Reid, calm down. Hotch has officer’s on their way to your home now.” Morgan tried to calm his friend, but all Spencer seen was red.

“I’m going to kill him.” He mumbles. Before anyone can act, Spencer has barged into the interrogation room and has thrown the unsub into the wall, his hands wrapped tightly around his throat.

“Reid! Stop!” Hotch and Morgan are grabbing at Spencer, trying to pull him off the man.

“You sick bastard!” Spencer’s hands tighten and he can feel the life draining from the unsub.

“Reid if you kill him, we have no way of finding her!” Hotch yells, ripping Spencer off the man. Morgan’s arms wrap around Spencer’s body, holding him back, “Kid, you got to calm down!”

“Get him out of here!” Hotch yells at Morgan, who begins dragging Spencer out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

“Morgan, he’s got her… he’s got y/n..” Spencer’s body goes limp in Morgan’s grip and begins wracking with sobs.

 ~

You push open the door with your foot, your hand full of groceries. You only needed a few things for dinner, but you hoped Spencer would be home this weekend so you two could spend the weekend at home, binge watching tv and eating your weight in junk food. You grunt, setting the grocery bags on the counter. Slipping your shoes off by your bedroom door, you enter the kitchen and begin putting away groceries, continuing to play your playlist you were jamming in the car to.

Your body tenses as you feel the cold barrel of a gun pressed against your back, “don’t move.”

Your breathing becomes rapid and you slowly raise your arms, “Please.. please don’t do this.” You whisper.

The man puts a cloth over your mouth and you thrash, trying to keep it away. “No!” You throw your head back into the man’s nose and groan. That hurt more than you thought it would. The man staggers back against the counter, holding his nose, “You bitch!”

Your head throbs and spins as you slip passed him and head for the door. Just as your hands grasp the door, the man grabs you, throwing you into the wall, the mirror falling to the floor and shattering. Your body falling into the broken glass.

 You whimper as he grabs you by your hair, your hands going to his, “Let me go!” He drags you along the floor into the living room, tossing you into the coffee table. Pain shoots across your body, but you ignore it grabbing a vase from the side table, hitting him in the side of the face. He falls to the ground and you stagger to your feet heading for the door once more, but you never make it.

A gun shot rings through the home you and Spencer shared. The last thing you see is the smiling photo of you and Spencer on the wall. It was your wedding photo, taken moments after you two promised to love and protect each other.

 ~

Spencer and the team were on the jet within the hour, heading back to Quantico. Back to you. When the police arrived at you and his home, they found the door opened, broken glass and a trail of blood out the door, but you were no where in sight.

He stares aimlessly at the wall in front of him, the gears in his head running a mile a minute. He racked his brain wondering how it come to this. He had caught the unsub that had terrorized you two. He promised you after he was caught, this would all be over. You two could live normal lives. Now, the unsub was locked in cell somewhere, but you were gone, disappeared. The only thing left was a blood trail out the door.

“Kid.. we’re going to find her.” Morgan says quietly, his hand going to Spencer’s shoulder.

“We won’t stop until we do. She’s family, Reid.” Emily says, taking a seat next to him.

He figured he was in shock. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t function. When they arrived at your shared home, he could see you put up a fight. Those self defense classes must have helped. He glances at the kitchen counter, the groceries still there, untouched. Sure enough, there sat a bottle of wine and a box of cookies. He’s broken from his trance as Hotch’s cellphone rings.

He’s nodding, listening intently to what someone’s saying. He looks up at the team standing in the living room, “That was the sheriff from next town over. Said he just received a call about a woman stumbling up onto a porch, bloodied and beaten. Thinks it could be y/n.”

~ 

Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest as Morgan drove to the hospital. The sheriff informed Hotch, they took her to the hospital immediately. She suffered extensive injuries, but kept telling people she escaped, that a man had kidnapped her and kept muttering that she needed to speak with Spencer Reid.

He practically ran into the hospital to the room where the unknown woman was. His heart dropped when he entered. It wasn’t you laying on the bed. He slowly walked over to the bed, the woman’s head rolled over to face Spencer, wincing as she sat up a little.  

“Are you Spencer Reid?” The woman asks. Spencer only nods in response.

“Your wife…” Her voice is hoarse, “She saved my life.”

“Y/n? How? What happened?”

“The man brought her in, there was blood everywhere. I thought she was dead. But he left her in the room with me. I rushed to her side and she had a pulse. He’d shot her in the side. The bullet grazed her. I patched her up with what I had. Which was only a few t shirts. She finally woke up later that night. She told me that she knew where we were, she’d woken up long enough during the ride. We were in the middle of the woods, not far from civilization. So, we thought of a plan. She knew she couldn’t run so she told me to run and get help. She would attack the man when he came in. She made me promise if I got out, to tell them I needed to talk to Spencer Reid. It was late that night, the man came into the room and she attacked him from behind. I was able to slip out the door and I ran to find help.”

Spencer was quick to get on the phone with Penelope with the information. She worked her magic and soon there was a location.

Swat and the BAU team had the small cabin surrounded. There was no way out of this for the guy. He knew that. When he entered into the room, he was panicked. You used that to your advantage and was able to fight the gun from him, getting a clear shot through his chest.

Spencer’s heart stopped as the gunshot was heard. “Move in!” Swat yelled and begin closing in on the home.

Morgan was the one who saw it first. The door began to open and a figure limped out of the door. “Hold your fire!” 

It was you. You were safe. Before he knew it, he was running to you, his body colliding with yours.

“Spencer!” You cried. The collision sent pain through your body, but you ignored it. Spencer was here. You were in Spencer’s arms and that is all that mattered.

Spencer’s body wracked with sobs and he held you, “Oh god… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You shook your head, “I’m okay. I’m fine..” You pulled away to look at him. He looked rough. Bags under his eyes. His face was red and wet from crying. A tear slipped down your cheek and you wrapped your arms around him again.

“I love you so much… god I love you.” He says into your hair.

“I love you too…”

Spencer carried you to the ambulance and he never left your side, riding in the ambulance to the hospital. He never let go of your hand either, scared that he would lose you if he were to let go. He finally had to let you go as they took you into the hospital. He didn’t want to leave your side then, but your reassured him, you would be fine. You were safe and everything would be okay.

*******************************************************************************************

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Save Me, I'll Save You Too

supernatural

endverse!destiel

dean and cas somehow save sam, and when he goes through their cabin, he finds their wedding picture and rings

rated m

Save Me, I'll Save You Too

i.

Cas

Dean shouldn’t be alive. Sam shouldn’t be alive– not this kind of alive, without the fallen angel propping him up. Cas for fucking sure shouldn’t be alive. He’d been the sacrifice. Didn’t god always demand a sacrifice?

But somehow they’re all here, all sitting in this truck. Stunned.

Cas has something in his pocket that could make him float away. But he knows he should be on the ground.

For Sam.

So he closes his eyes, clenches his fists until small red crescents form on his palms.

Pain is grounding.

ii.

Sam

Dean keeps asking if he’s okay.

Sam has no idea. What does that even mean? He can walk. He can blink his eyes. He remembers how to drink water, how to chew food. He thinks, far off, that food used to taste better, but maybe that’s just a consequence of being a vessel for so long.

But is he okay?

He thinks Cas understands. There’s something in his eyes. Not sympathy. He wouldn’t do that. But… compassion. Like he knows what it means to be lost.

iii.

Dean

It doesn’t take long to get Sammy settled. Of course in Dean’s cabin, he can’t leave his brother alone. Not now. Not like this.

iv.

Cas

It’s dark when Cas pulls Dean from his cabin.

Give him some space. He doesn’t know what’s going on. Hovering won’t help.

Dean glares. There’s no moon, and they’re away from the lights, but Cas knows the glare is there.

You don’t get to–

I’m not. I’m just trying to help your brother. He makes sure the “your” is pointed. It stings.

There’s a huff from Dean.

Come on, Cas says, the ghost of a smile on his lips. You know you want it.

v.

Dean

He’s biting his lower lip, holding the scream inside, holding everything inside.

It’s so hot, so good, so safe– above Cas, inside him, surrounded by him. Nothing can touch him here, nothing else exists, only Dean and his angel.

And then there’s a fracture– just a hairline, but enough to let a tear trace down Dean’s cheek. Because the angel isn’t his. Not anymore. Not really.

Oh, Cas beckons and Dean follows and they fall together into this place they both need, but it isn’t–

And then Cas moans and grips him oh so tightly and he forgets everything but the white hot pleasure.

vi.

Cas

He wishes he could keep Dean right here, like this. Curled up against him, the mattress heavy with the weight of two. He remembers–

But no. Those are forbidden thoughts. With his eyes he traces the whorls in the rough-hewn walls of the candlelit cabin. He thinks of the pill in the pocket of his jeans, tossed carelessly on the floor. When Dean leaves, Cas will forget.

He will fly.

vii.

Sam

He counts the leaves visible in the patch of sky through the small, dirty window.

He can’t sleep. His head is too quiet.

viii.

Dean

He can’t meet Cas’s eyes at breakfast, remembering the night. Sammy’s back at the cabin– must be exhausted, still asleep– so Dean’s getting him some food. Feels like old times. Except there’s no Lucky Charms this time. No pancakes or bacon. Just tasteless oatmeal and some canned peaches. Real gourmet fare.

Fuck he misses coffee.

He’s crossing the camp when Sam appears.

What the hell is this?

Sam thrusts a small wooden box towards Dean.

Oh shit.

He hears Cas come up beside him, pause, curse.

I brought you breakfast.

He knows it’s weak, but he can't talk about this right now. Not in the open, not when Sam’s… not himself.

Sam smacks the tray, sends food flying everywhere.

I don’t give a fuck about breakfast. What is this?

A shout from across the small clearing: Hey boss! I don’t care if he’s your brother, we don’t waste food here.

Dean’s look is enough to send her away. Most everyone else, too.

Sam holds out the box. Again. Accusing.

When was this?

Dean looks at the box. Looks away.

Cas does the same.

Before, they mumble together.

ix.

Cas

Before I fell from Grace.

x.

Dean

Before I gave up hope.

xi.

Sam

Dean’s got that look, that “there have to be words around here somewhere” look.

It was– He flounders, looks to Cas for help. Cas keeps his gaze elsewhere.

Sam looks from one to the other, anger rising in his stomach. It’s an odd sensation, it’s been so long since he’s felt…

anything.

You know what, Dean? Just stop. Because I can see the excuses coming, and I don’t give a fuck about that. He looks at them both, hard. Are you telling me you had something good– something truly real– in this hell, and you, what… quit?

Dean bristles. I never quit! At anything! I just–

And what about you? Sam rounds on Cas. I barely recognize you. Better to wash yourself of this whole planet than admit something makes you happy, I guess.

Sam tosses the box at their feet. Photos scatter– Dean and Cas smiling at each other, dancing, kissing. Wildflower crowns on their heads. A gold ring rolls until it comes to rest in a patch of dirt.

Why did you save me? Only the three of them can hear. Why bother, if family and love don’t matter anymore?

xii.

Cas

The beat of Cas’s heart roars in his ears. He grasps at it, wraps it around himself like a ...coat. He looks at Dean, deep into emerald eyes.

He thinks, Yes.

He thinks, I'm afraid, but I'll try.

He says, Go for a walk?

Dean nods, the movement barely perceptible.

Good.

Cas’s heart still races, roars, but it’s not enough to drown out Dean beside him. He tries to talk a few times, but Cas stops him with a hand and a glance.

Cas knows when they’ve gone far enough. Without warning he pushes Dean against a tree, rough. Dean’s eyes go wide, his breath catches in his throat.

Cas leans in; Dean expects a kiss and tries to close the gap, but Cas pulls away. Dean looks… surprised. And a bit hurt.

Look in my eyes, Dean.

Dean’s eyes flick back and forth, searching.

I’m not high. You can see it– no red eyes, no dilated pupils. And you can hear it in my voice? Just me?

Dean nods, then, Yeah, Cas. You’re here. Soft as a feather.

Good.

They’re still pressed together, faces almost touching.

I’ve wanted to say this for weeks. Months. A year? Maybe more. I just– I can’t do this without you. Can–

He feels the tear run down his cheek, but he doesn’t care. It’s just salt water.

Can we try again? Please? I–

xiii.

Dean

He sees Cas drowning, decides to save him.

Yes.

Just like that.

Then, because he knows what Cas wanted to say, I love you too, Cas.

...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, I know that a(n almost) kiss and an "I love you" can't make everything better. I've said those exact words to my husband, and I'm pretty sure he's said them to me! But it's a crack, a spark, a first step towards healing. Healing takes work, but without a first step there's no chance at all.

And Sam will be okay. He needs lots of time, and love, but he's got the help he needs.

...

NaPoWriMo Day 7

[do-you-have-a-flag]

Destiel shippers come get ya’ll juice!

SO @deadwright​ and I were inspired by Some Tumblr Posts and the twitter Roadhouse  Wedding stuff and keep writing headcanons about Thee Destiel 2021 Married Ever After S16 SPN Romantic Event Of The Season, so here’s that. 

Arranged in order of marital chronology and cutting out us keysmashing too much:

oh man imagine all the burgers they get catered for the reception dean got it done himself he would’ve been so particular about the catering bridezilla cas would probably be THEE bitchiest bridezilla

it's also definitely that trope where all the other hunters ect KNOW that that many of them and the wedding party are essentially a target for trouble so everyone spends the 24 hours leading up to the vows taking out every beastie who shows up on a revenge kick out of sight because they'll be damned if they let ANYTHING stop this wedding and Dean and cas are both having their marital jitters oh god im not good enough what if something goes wrong about mundane things while monsters are getting their ass kicked outside AWWWWWWWW for sure for sure, they’re hunter royalty this wedding is a big deal like half the attendees are nursing injuries but grinning widely

they don't do the can't see eachother before the wedding thing because you KNOW dean would be fixing cas' tie last minute

dean wears a blue pocket square to match cas' tie cas wears a FLANNEL SQUARE

I’m obsessed w the idea of cas giving dean a little bit of his grace in a small bottle on a chain for him to wear or like a wing feather or some part of him god the grace in a bottle breaks me every time in fic dean probably builds cas something but every time i try to think of something specific i choke up

i was thinking like what if trading grace is as close to a romantic gesture as angels have and he's like..... technically i left some grace behind in your mark when i dragged you from the pit and dean is like ARE YOU SAYING WE'VE BEEN MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME? 

they are so sweet i’m on the verge of tears the ability to do anything by halves in their relationship was burnt out by like the second return from the dead moment they are too insane to be anything less than All In And Then Some

at one point someone was like hey cas do you want to run your vows by someone as practice? and he started reading what he'd prepared and it devolved into Biblically Grand Statements Of The Power Of Love And The Redemption Of - ect ect ect and it's because unlike the confession scene he's had TOO much preparation and overshot into uncanny angelic vibes he makes some edits because he know the expressions he gets when he reads it aren't what he intended

dean writes page after page after page of unused drafts, none of them are particularly floral

he does the cliche of ripping up his vows and improvising at the altar, something he gets mercilessly teased for because he swore he wouldn't but it classifies as a chick flick moment

THAT’S SO PEAK HIM OH MY GOD and you knoooooow you just KNOW it’s beautiful and emotional and everyone is crying

god the NOVELTY of dean being emotionally honest in front of people......im gonna faint YEA yeah... ONE TIME ONLY DEAL he thinks loudly at Sam's smug expression

anyway, at the wedding dean is the one who spends the whole ceremony with like crying cat meme eyes after the confession scene i’m pretty sure the minute the vows start cas is in the same boat USELESS HUSBANDS dean gets passed a handkerchief for his tears and immediately goes to use it on cas' face and they both laugh sob love the idea that everyone individually thought they were too tough to cry but they all broke at various stages yeah sam definitely starts to choke up just standing up there with his brother sam chokes up before the ceremony even started, like probably when he was pinning on dean’s corsage

anyway, Jack dancing with his two dads at the reception CAS’ BEST MAN / FLOWER BOY FLOWER MAN let him heelie down the aisle with the flowers LITTLE MAN GO NYOOM who makes him a little flower crown he wears with a proud lil smile? claire ofc, with those hair braiding skills? she makes it BEAUTIFUL flower crown: on nails: painted dads: MARRIED!!!!

when they say i do and kiss and everyone is cheering you can't convince me that someone doesn't let off what is either a gun or a dubiously legal firework in celebration jack pops a few lightbulbs in his uncontrollable joy

Dean and Cas can't let go of each other, it's at LEAST one point of physical contact for the rest of the reception PERIODT

CAN YOU IMAGINE THEM DANCING TO AIR SUPPLY

they definitely didn't do the wedding gifts thing but a few mysteriously show up anyway; discuss waffle iron from sam bc he remembers the becky incident meanwhile claire gets them flavoured lube because she’s an insane little mean girl she gets them a sampler package with like novelty flavours, gotta spring extra for a wedding PIE FLAVOURED LUBE

it’s gonna be the party of the century omfg you KNOW it! that dancefloor going OFF the BAR is FLOWING

dean gets dragged up onto the bar to make a speech and there's a moment at the end where he drags cas up there too and they're being playfully yelled at not to scuff it and there's hooting and catcalls as dean and cas kiss and dean gestures rudely before almost falling backwards off the bar before cas grabs him and climbing down is less romantic or dignified but he couldn't care if he wanted to

meanwhile sam and claire are outside defacing the impala with silly string and lewd graffiti and tin cans tied to the bumper for the going-away oh it is one hundo percent a just married atrocity there's enough condoms hidden in the car that they're still finding them months later

anyway wanna hear my disgustingly soppy honeymoon roadtrip concept? YOU KNOW I DO OKAY SO

you know at some point dean must have said some sad thing like for the longest time he never thought he'd live long enough to get married and the only circumstances he could imagine was hooking up drunkenly with a stranger at some vegas wedding scenario like that's the best he would ever get and he thinks it's mostly forgotten but then during their cross country honeymoon roadtrip castiel does in fact navigate them to las vegas and quietly mutters that the legal veracity of the little chapel on the city limits is dubious at best and they're already married so it couldn't do any harm and they get officiated by an elvis impersonator and a woman wearing more sequins than fabric throws cheap confetti over them

and after that they stop into every venue they can find that would be friendly to them to pretend they're eloping and at one point dean even pulls out the fbi id badges and the officiant is under the impression he's facilitating some sort of covert workplace romance 

one place is a kitchy little house that's clearly just the couple who run it opening their strange home to anyone who needs it and have been since the 70s and Castiel thinks for a moment when they're asked to pin something to the collection of stuff on the walls and ceiling before pulling the receipt for the pie they'd shared earlier in a dinner out and scrawling his and dean's name on it to be added to the clutter 

and at one point they stand ankle deep in a pond while some old hippie lady wraps their clasped hands together with soft fabric and chants something that dean knows isn't real magic but hey he's not going to tell her that and after the ceremony they sit on the grass and feed each other sweet bread to complete the binding or whatever and it's nice but it doesn't compare to the ranch where they both tossed their cowboy hats in the air and were given a horse to ride to their camp site

i thought about riverboat gambling for point one seconds and now i know in my bones that one of their many weddings was on a riverboat, they made the captain officiate after cornering him on deck in like five minutes, the crew sent them complimentary champagne and they threw fries at the birds following the boat while sharing it straight out of the bottle

if destiel can go canon multiple times they can get married multiple times CHANGE MY MIND THEY GET MARRIED SO MUCH the MOST married i just want them to get gay cowboy married

eventually i want them to end up at the beach bc dean has canonically never been to the coast their road trip is to get to the other coast

they send just married postcards back to sam from every stop sam stops feeling hurt he was left out of their vegas elopement wedding by the third wedding postcard he recieves sam saves them ofc bc GOD can you imagine them looking at the postcards on their 30th anniversary or s/t 🥺 showing their grandkids and recounting the story of each wedding there's a seashell taped to the last one

cas gets a terrible sunglasses tan and dean gets burnt on the tips of his ears and there's sand on sand on sand in all their clothes and at one point dean is blinking away salt water and cas is gripping his arm and saying something about the coral by them in the water and dean thinks that he likes floating beside cas a lot better than flying

dean has cas pick ice cream for them from a truck and hustles at carnival games enough to win them both big novelty foam hats and they both go back to their room and pass out immediately post shower sprawled across the bed and still smelling like sunscreen and salt water

dean tucks a little cocktail umbrella behind cas’ ear

cas spends most of the next day in dean's zepplin shirt and a pair of shorts they only picked up once they got there because neither of them thought to bring beach clothes, they sit on the balcony and dean sips his beer and idly plays with the ring on cas' finger and they play a game of what fictional monsters could they beat in a fight

cas’ true form is the size of the chrysler building he can fight king kong easy that's what he says and dean's like okay but what about mothra and castiel is like how would YOU defeat mothra and dean just goes "bugspray." GDJSGSHSGSHDSJ DEAN WOULD

in honour of misha putting his whole pussy into the role, cas wears a dress in at least one of their weddings

it's at one of those theme parks that's just historical re-enactments and people get their vows renewed there and there's costumes for the photobooth and the staff are like how long have you been married? castiel says two weeks, three days, eighteen hours, and twenty five minutes................ approximately.  and the photo is cas in a classical wedding gown and dean is wearing the veil with his old timey suit and there's a moose head on the wall behind them wearing the top hat he was given and they send that print with an arrow pointing at the moose with sam written next to it

i keep thinking bitch!!!! you KNOW WHAT!! you KNOW that dean is the type a guy who's heart races every time he feels his wedding ring/is always fiddling with it in the weeks after the wedding, like an anchor to remind him they really got married this is real he would NEED that physical reminder that he can have good things

he’s never ever going to take it off, the tan line will be permanent

how funny it would be if dean gets injured on a hunt and the monster guy is about to kill him and then the lights blow out and the monsters are like what was that and dean is just like "[spits blood] that's my husband." and nek minnit cas has just ripped through them thanks to teleporting in angel style and is just like Cas: [heals dean] "you're late for movie night" Dean: "Well if you'd gotten here earlier i would have been on time." Cas: >:| [kisses him]

cas is like i didn’t burn the popcorn this time you BETTER be alive to see it

[idreamofplaid]

Once Upon a December

Square Filled: Free Space for @spnkinkbingo & Honeymoon for @spnfluffbingo

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam, Bobby, Jody

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral (female receiving)

Summary: Dean and the reader the reader give each other the most precious thing of all for Christmas. 

Word Count: 2105

Created for @spnkinkbingo & @spnfluffbingo

A/N: This is the fic I wrote for the 1st Day of my Happy Half Christmas Celebration. Info here. 

Dean knew you better than anyone ever had. He’d made it a point to know. He studied you and seemed to delight in knowing every little thing about you. He paid attention to things that made you smile and made it his life’s mission to put a smile on your face every time he could. Your smile had never been bigger than on the night he proposed to you-until today.

This was the day you married him. Dean had made your deepest and dearest dream come true. He had never put more effort into making you happy than he had today. He knew how the holidays made you light up inside, so the two of you had decided December was the perfect time for your wedding. 

Everyone who mattered the most to the two of you had been there. Sam and Bobby had stood with Dean. The way Sam put it, they kept him in one piece for you because he had the worst case of nerves imaginable. “Not in a bad way,” Sam was quick to add. “I think he was afraid you might have some kind of realization and call it off.” 

When you saw Dean, you couldn’t tell he was nervous. His hand was steady when he took yours. He held your hand through the entire ceremony, letting it go only long enough to get your ring from Sam and put it on your finger. 

He looked so handsome; you thought you had to be in a dream. His eyes were filled with something you had rarely seen there. It was hope. You were determined to keep that hope there and give him the life he deserved. 

The ceremony was beautiful, and the reception was a celebration filled with laughter. Your favorite moment of the party had been cutting the cake. Dean’s hand was warm and sure on top of yours even though he’d cut very few cakes in his life. He hadn’t had a birthday cake since his mother died until you made one for him. You broke off a tiny piece of the slice you’d cut together and put it into his mouth. Dean chewed and swallowed it then kissed you. You could still taste the frosting on his lips. 

As wonderful as it was to share your joy with the people you loved, you couldn’t wait to be alone with him. The last thing you did before leaving was toss your bouquet. Jody hadn’t been eager to catch it the way some of the other women were, but when it landed in her hands; her smile was warm and genuine. Dean opened Baby’s passenger door for you, and you settled yourself into the car. 

Once he was inside, you watched him put the key into the ignition while he propped his other hand on the wheel. Dean’s hands were big, solid, and strong. You remembered the way it had felt while he held yours as you became his wife, and you imagined the way his touch would feel later tonight. He reached for your hand now. “I’m one lucky man.” He leaned across the seat and kissed you. A cheer went up outside the car. When he reluctantly pulled his lips from yours, Dean smiled. “Are you ready, Mrs. Winchester?”

You nodded. “Absolutely.” For the next couple of hours, you drove through the mountains with Dean to the secluded chalet he’d booked for your honeymoon. Mother Nature had given you the gift of a light snowfall. When you pulled up to your destination, it looked like something out of a fairytale.

It was a perfect blend of cozy luxury. Evergreens covered the property, and a silvery full moon was shining down over them. There was a deck on one side of the building that looked out over a lake surrounded by woods. The peace of the landscape matched the peace you were feeling inside your heart.

You felt Dean’s hand on the small of your back, and he guided you to the door. After he unlocked it, he scooped you up in his arms. He held you at the threshold for a moment before walking across it. His eyes traveled over your face then held yours. They were the color of clear jade, and the love you saw in them made you go soft inside. “I’m going to make you happy, Y/N. I promise.” 

You reached up and brushed your fingers across his cheek where a hint of a beard was beginning to shadow through. “You already have, Dean.” He swept his lips across yours in the tenderest of kisses. You let your fingers play in the short hair above the nape of his neck for a few seconds before you told him, “I love you.”

Dean carried you inside your honeymoon retreat and put you down on the thick rug in the entryway. This place was far bigger than any cabin you had been in while you were hunting. There was a stone fireplace in the living room that acted as a focal point for the space. You immediately walked toward it. It was stunning. Dean knew how much you loved fireplaces. You had once shared with him your dream of having a home with multiple fireplaces.

As you ran your fingers along the thick wooden mantelpiece, Dean walked up behind you and circled his arms around your waist. He kissed your cheek and pushed your hair back from your face, combing his fingers through it. “There’s something else I want to show you.”

Dean led you to the bedroom. You drew in your breath when you saw a trail of rose petals leading to the bed and another fireplace. He lowered his head down by your ear. “I’m going to make love to you in front of a fire.” Your husband definitely knew your fantasies, and you knew his. 

You’d bought something special to wear tonight. The butterflies started up in your stomach at the thought of what was about to happen, just how momentous it was that you were joining your life with Dean’s. “Will you give me a few minutes? I’m going to go change.”

He cupped your cheek in his palm. “Of course, sweetheart. I can’t wait.” He kissed you again, and his hand lingered on your face. “I’ll go get the suitcases out of the car.”

Several minutes later when you emerged from the dressing room, Dean had a fire going in the bedroom fireplace. He stood gazing into the flames, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He turned when he heard you; his lips parted. “You are...gorgeous.” He put his unfinished glass of whiskey on the mantle and came to you.

Dean rested his hands on your hips and let his eyes travel over your form. they stopped on your breasts enclosed in the white lace cups of the baby doll you were wearing. ��Do you like it?”

Dean lifted his eyes to yours. “Oh yeah.” You took the top button of his shirt into your fingers and slowly started to unbutton it. “Why don’t you show me how much?” Dean lifted you, you wrapped your legs around him, and he carried you to the bed. The down comforter cushioned you as Dean guided you down into the pillows. 

You put your hands into his open shirt to touch his skin. Dean was toned but not hard, and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in the warmth of his embrace without the clothes. Like he could read your mind, Dean took off the shirt and tossed it toward the end of the bed. You wrapped your arms around him and felt the firm muscles in his back under your fingers. 

His eyes were darker now, the color of the spruce trees outside in the moonlight. He covered your mouth with his; his tongue moved along the seam of your lips, and you opened to him. His kiss was tenderness, passion, and love. Dean’s tongue circled around yours while his body pressed down on top of you, covering you and keeping you safe beneath him. You could feel the bulge in his pants growing larger and getting hard. The kiss deepened, and Dean started to roll his hips against you.

Then he broke the kiss and began to move his mouth down the column of your neck. He stopped when he got to that sensitive place where your neck meets your shoulder. He kissed you there open mouthed while he started to caress your breast through the lace of your negligee, moving his thumb slowly back and forth over it. You arched into his touch. “Dean.”

He raised his head and looked into your eyes. “I’ve never wanted you this much, Y/N.”

You sank your fingers into his hair. “Then take me, Dean. I’m yours. Completely yours.” He dropped his mouth to yours. His kiss held all the intensity of everything that was passing unspoken between you.

Dean continued to kiss you while his hand skimmed down your side until he got to the bottom of your babydoll. He eased his hand under the silk. You parted your legs for him, and he pushed your panties aside. He brushed two of his thick fingers up through your folds, and you gasped when they got to your clit. He expertly circled his fingers around it, knowing exactly how you liked to be touched, until you were moaning into his mouth. “Dean, I need you.”

He took his mouth from yours and kissed down the center of your body all the way down between your legs where you were so wet for him, and he placed a kiss on your panty covered mound, then he took them off. He held them for a second, the tiny piece of fabric almost lost in his huge hand. “These are pretty, but you’re so much prettier.” He parted your legs, holding them open with his arms wrapped beneath and around your thighs, holding them. The first swipe of his tongue against your sensitive nub caused you to cry out. You twined your fingers through his hair and pulled him closer to your body. Dean sucked and licked until you came on his lips, and he swallowed what you gave him.

You were breathing in ragged pants, and you knew Dean was watching you. When you opened your eyes, he smiled at you. “I love you so much, Y/N.” He took your hand and pulled you up far enough to lift your lingerie off over your head. Then he removed the rest of his clothes, so when he lay down next to you, you could feel his skin against the length of your body.

You turned toward him, and Dean took you in his arms. The fire was crackling, and it cast a warm glow over the room. Dean kissed you, and you breathed into him. He was still hard, and you were more than ready for him. You pushed your pelvis into him, asking for more. “Put your leg over mine, baby.” You lifted your leg over his, and he positioned himself at your opening.

Dean kissed your as he eased into your body giving you the first few inches of his length. He pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in slowly, going deeper this time. “Move faster, Dean. Please.” He sped up his rhythm to give you what you wanted. With each thrust he went deeper inside you. When he was fully seated inside you, you spread your palm over his cheek. “Look at me, Dean. I want to see you come. I’m so close; I’ll come with you.”

He thrust into you deeply and through almost clenched teeth said, “I’ve wanted you my whole life, Y/N. I never knew how much.” With another grunt, he came filling you with his hot seed, and you fell over the edge with him.

Dean stayed inside you while he caught his breath. He kissed your cheeks, your eyelids, and then your lips. “You’re precious to me. I hope you know that.”

You kissed his chest gently. “I do know, Dean.” He had gone soft inside you, but it still felt so good to have him there. You nuzzled against his shoulder. “You’re everything to me too.”

Your bodies stayed entwined like that for several minutes. When he finally pulled himself from you, he held you closer. You put your head on Dean’s shoulder, and he played with your hair, running his fingers through it. That’s the way you fell asleep, with your husband’s fingers in your hair. 

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @iknowwheremytowelis @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​

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[holylulusworld]

Give a little bit of your heart to me

Summary: Dean wanted a bit of your heart; you gave him it all only to feel it breaking.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Reader, Mobster!John x Reader (platonic)

Character: Ellen Harvelle, Ruby, Sam Winchester

Warning: arranged marriage, angst, mentions of divorce, pregnant reader, comforting, remorse, fluff, misunderstandings

‘Give a little bit, give a little bit of your heart to me,’ back then you smiled at Dean’s words, knowing he got forced into this marriage too. Your father and John Winchester wanted to form a strong bond between the two mightiest empires, so you and John’s eldest had to marry.

You had not seen Dean for a lifetime, but you still remembered the funny, cocky, and green-eyed boy with so many freckles you could never count them.

A tiny piece of your heart always beat for him, so it was easy for you to give Dean not only a little bit of your heart but the whole damn beating thing. Now it is a broken mess, a bleeding pulp that will never heal.

“I’ll pack as fast as possible, John,” your voice broken, defeated you place the golden band, and your engagement ring into his hand. “I know it was an arranged marriage, but I thought after five years I know your son.”

“Y/N,” murmuring your name John watches you subconsciously rub your belly. “Do you have to tell me anything, doll?”

“Your son is a lying son of bitch who just left me,” you huff, walking toward the house you shared with Dean. 

“I will go and tell my father the arrangement is over, John. You will have to clarify the details as daddy will get mad,” you flinch at the thought of facing your father. “You don’t want to see him mad, John.”

“Doll, wait,” sighing John grasps your wrist. “I know about the baby and can’t let you leave. It’s my grandchild, my heir.” Your stomach tightens looking up at John. “Your life, it never was yours in the first place, Y/N. I’ll give you all you need, but you have to stay and raise your child as a Winchester.”

“I can’t,” voice cracking you blink the tears away. “I should leave before Dean returns.”

You would run away, hide somewhere but honestly, you have got nowhere to go. Not with John Winchester wanting your child and your father insisting on a bond with Dean.

“This is my house, my manor, not Dean’s. You will move into my part of the house and Dean will shut his mouth. When he comes back, I will set him straight,” John slings his arm around your shoulders, not missing the hopelessness in your eyes when you agree to follow him.

“It’s not as if I got anywhere to go, John. At least you will get what you always wanted, an heir for your empire,” you whisper bitterly, missing John’s pained expression when tears roll down your cheeks. “As you said, my life never was mine.”

“You said I can divorce her after five years! I want to be free again, Sir,” Dean yells. “I was the perfect husband and partner. I played my part, now play yours,” his words make your legs wobble and fresh tears run down your cheeks.

Dean lied. This whole time he made you believe he loves you too. Façade. Charade. A foul play, that is what you are to him. He made a deal and now he wants out.

“John, let him out,” your voice meek, thin, and all the fight gone from your eyes you rub your arms nervously. “If he wants out, let him out.”

“See, she doesn’t want to stay married either,” Dean wants to touch your arm to thank you for your words, but you flinch away, jerking your arm out of his grip.

“Don’t touch me,” your voice cracks now but you fight the tears. “You want to be free, be free. Lucky you, Dean. I never had a chance and are stuck here as…,” you run away before you tell Dean about the baby, his baby.

“What’s wrong with her?” John shakes his head at his son’s behavior. “Father, why did Y/N look as if she’s hurt? I thought she didn’t want this marriage.”

“You really are a blind, my son. I suggest you’ll leave her alone and turn your attention toward the girl you want to leave Y/N for,” walking away John leaves his son alone with his thoughts.

“I thought she wanted to divorce too, Sir. Wait, hey, wait up,” Dean jogs after his father grasping for John’s wrist. “Talk to me.”

“I want you to take care of Crowley, Dean. You’ll be out of town for a month or two and can rethink your decision,” John sighs deeply. “If you still want to divorce Y/N I will not stop you. I’ll take care of the mess you left, as always.”

Dean did not say goodbye before he left to deal with Crowley. To be honest, it would have been too hard to see rejection, maybe even triumph in his eyes.

“He’ll be back in a month or two, Y/N. Enough time for him to come to his mind and realize what he’s about to lose,” you nod, what else can you do when the most powerful and dangerous mobster tells you his opinion.

“I will go to my room, goodnight John,” watching you leave John hates he has to force you to stay but with your father insisting on not breaking the bond he’s got no other choice than to protect his heir, the future of his empire.

Three weeks passed without a word from Dean, not that you believed he would at least call to tell you he’s alright. While you lie on the bed in the room John offered to you, the door opens once again.

Over the last weeks, John took care of you, watched over you like a mother hen, not that you would ever dare to call the mobster like that.

“You need to eat something, doll. Ellen made chicken, peas, carrots, and mashed potatoes.”

“I am not hungry, or rather the moment I eat anything I have to run to the bathroom. Breakfast ended up in the toilette, just like the apple I ate,” you do not turn around, not wanting John to stay longer than needed.

“Listen, I know this is a fucked-up situation, but you’ll get up, have a shower, and come to join me in my living room. We can watch one of those movies Dean hates so much,” John sits onto your bed, gently patting your hand. “Mary, she had problems with Dean too. I made her fennel tea.”

You would laugh about John acting like a nurse, but you know he means well, tries to make the best out of a bad situation. “Okay, I’ll be there after a shower.”

“If you need anything else, tell me or Ellen so,” you nod, glancing at John who places your wedding band and engagement ring onto the nightstand. “I am sure, when Dean comes back he’ll apologize, Y/N.”

You nod silently, knowing John is wrong about Dean. Your husband does not give a shit on you, to be honest…

“Better,” while you sip on the fennel tea John insisted to make you nod, faking it did make you feel better. “Just relax and watch, uh-erm,” glancing at the movie John rubs his scruffy chin. “What are we watching?”

“I don’t know,” mumbling the words you look at the huge TV, not following the story at all. “I just zapped around and ended up watching that movie. She looked pretty in her wedding dress, though.”

“Y/N, you need to stop acting as if you are a prisoner or worse. I know you believe I want you to stay because of the baby inside your belly, and I want you to but,” John wraps one arm around your shoulders, letting you rest your head against his shoulder, “I want to keep you safe.”

“Dad would get mad when he gets to know I made Dean leave. He would believe I manipulated our marriage to get out or something similar, John. My family is not used to give comfort. They are all hard, calculated, and power-hungry,” you glance at your belly, slowly rubbing it. 

“You’re showing,” John covers your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Just a little but I see the difference.”

“You mean I got fat,” giggling you blink the tears away. “There is no reason for Dean to like me, you know. I guess, he had to imagine someone else to get intimate with me. I am such a fool…”

“Doll, get down here and join us for dinner,” John grumbles when you refuse to come down to eat with Sam, Ruby, Ellen, and John.

“No! Nothing fits any longer, John. I look like a wale!” You yell back. “I will not go downstairs wearing a too-tight dress or crap!”

“Jesus, Y/N. You are three months pregnant, not a wale. Come downstairs or I’ll send Sam to drag you down or Ruby,” Ruby glares at John, pointing her knife at the mobster. 

“I am not a threat,” she grunts, watching you slowly pat down the stairs. “There she is! A pretty mama!”

“A wale,” grumbling you walk toward the table in a too-tight shirt and shorts which do not cover your belly. You baby bump peeks out of the shirt and John smirks, holding back a chuckle as you glare at him.

“You look beautiful, doll. Now sit, eat and we can talk about baby names,” John pulls your chair, smirking as you wiggle on the seat to get comfortable.

“How about Dexter,” Ruby smirks watching you narrow your eyes.

“Samuel?” Sam tries and you toss a napkin at the tall mobster who grins at you.

“John Winchester Jr.,” John exclaims, and you groan, hiding your face in the palms of your hands. “J. Jr.,” he tries again, and you shake your head silently.

“John Henry Winchester,” not giving in John tries to convince you but you stay adamant. “It’s a great name for your baby.”

“Not for a girl, John!” You grunt and everyone cheers at the table as you finally told them the gender. “You son of a bitch!” Head snapping upward you purse your lips when John gives you a grin. 

“That’s my line, sweetheart,” Dean snickers, waltzing into the room. If it’s possible for him to look even better after three months he does look better. His hair longer, chin scruffy and his eyes sparkling he looks around the room. “What? No welcome back?”

“Welcome back, son. How were the deal, Mexico, and the weather?” John clears his throat when you silently get up to leave the room. “Y/N, you didn’t eat anything. Stay.”

“I lost my appetite, John. I’ll sleep a bit or whatever,” voice trembling you rush out of the room, not caring John calls your name repeatedly.

“Did I just kill the mood,” Dean blinks a few times, glancing at his family. “What did I do?”

“Uh-let’s start with you leaving your wife. You not calling for over three months or the fact you want to divorce her,” Ruby deadpans. “Maybe her current state makes her even more vulnerable.”

“Current state? Is she sick?” Dean gasps, glancing at the untouched food. “Why did she ran upstairs? Our bedroom is opposite.”

“She lives in John’s guest wing as you wanted her to leave, dude,” Sam grits out. “What did you believe would happen? That Y/N would wait for you to kick her out.”

“I just,” sighing Dean drops his bags before he walks toward the stairs. “I got to talk to her. I mean, she’s my wife, right?”

John rolls his eyes, close to saying something he will regret. “Not for much longer. You are back, you still want to divorce her so I can marry her,” John lies, a dirty grin on his lips. “I’d like to have a younger wife.”

“You, what?” Choking on his words Dean balls his hands into fists. “You said I shall think about divorce, not that you would ram your teeth into my wife!”

“Ex-wife, Dean. If you want out of this marriage, I will not stop you but,” John smirks devilish, “someone has to take care of Y/N and her needs.”

“If you touched my wife I’ll castrate you,” Dean threatens, bumping his chest against John’s. “I thought she wants out of the marriage. I never said I will let you touch my girl, you vulture. Go and get a random girl. This one is mine.”

Dean storms off, still cursing when the door slams shut behind him with a loud bang. “I should’ve said something sooner,” John snickers. “I woke the alpha. Imagine what he’ll do hearing she’s having his baby.”

“You’re the devil, John Winchester,” Ellen laughs at Ruby’s words, nodding eagerly. “I like your style, sometimes.”

“Son of a bitch, Y/N! Did he touch you? Did my fath…,” Dean’s eyes widen, his jaw goes slack, and you can see the color drain from his face when you step into the bedroom, showing off your baby bump. “Y/N,…sweetheart?”

“What brought you here, Dean? Do I have to sign the papers,” you sigh, sitting onto the bed, not meeting Dean’s gaze. “I think John prepared everything. We only have to sign the papers and you can go to that girl you want.”

“There is no girl, Y/N,” mumbling the words Dean kneels in front of the bed, not taking his eyes from your swollen belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks up at you, searching your face.

“You wanted out of this marriage. It thought you wouldn’t care or worse,” you huff, grabbing the blanket to cover your body. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I am trapped to stay here. John’s order. You can go and party or whatever you planned to do without me dragging you down.”

“Sweetheart,” his hand trembles when he moves it under the blanket to touch your bump. “My baby is inside your belly. I never thought I’ll be a father one day.”

“Dean, you are free to go and leave this to me,” not wanting to see him pity you, you scramble away, crawling toward the pillow to sleep the hurting off. “Leave me alone and got to that girl.”

“I told you, there is no other girl, Y/N,” Dean sounds angry when he kicks his shoes off, crawling onto the bed to lie next to you. He’s burying his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. “You smell like vanilla and lilac. I’ve missed your scent, your soft skin, your lips on mine.”

“Sure,” you grunt, angrily clenching your fists. “That’s the reason you did not call and gave a shit on me for three months, Dean.”

“Y/N, I was kinda undercover to find out what’s Crowley planning. I could not call my wife or crap. I had to be as invisible as possible,” he’s moving closer to wrap his arms around your waist. “I swear, I wanted freedom for you, nothing else.”

“You wanted my heart, and I gave it to you only to get hurt,” Dean listens to your words, hating he made you feel that way. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. Let me make it right.”

“How? By pretending you love me too,” you huff, turning in his embrace to slap his face. “I am done listening to your lies.”

“Love? You love me,” Dean scoots closer to cup your face, ignoring your angry look. “Fuck me,” his lips press against yours and you must use all your strength to break free.

“What the fuck Dean!”

“My wife loves me,” he smirks, glancing at your belly, “and I knocked her up. Now back to my father touching you.”

“Gosh, John would never touch me, not that this is any of your business, Winchester.” You glare at Dean when he tries to touch your belly. 

“I am sorry, Y/N. I promise to be the husband you deserve if you give me the chance to. I know asking for divorce without talking to you was stupid, but I thought you want out,” Dean pecks your lips, rubbing your belly slowly. “I heard you talking to Ruby and wanted to let you go.”

“I don’t understand, Dean. I never said I want out of our marriage. I said I want to get out of this house,” you groan, frustrated.

“Exactly!”

“I didn’t want to live with your father, brother, and their girlfriends. I wanted a place of our own, Dean.” Dean starts laughing, even throws his head back.

“I guess next time I should listen closely,” he is rubbing your belly, smiling as you cover his hand with yours. “I don’t want out of this marriage, Y/N.”

“Is that a lie again or can I have a little bit of your heart too?” Dean pecks your lips, gently stroking your cheek. “Sweetheart, you can have the whole damn thing…”

Part 2

SPN Forever Tags

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A/N: If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

[mishavacado]

SPN has so much spinoff potential and so much canon to work with, it's such a waste that none of it's getting used. This post is just all of my spinoff ideas, I'll apologize in advance because it is VERY long.

Wayward Sisters, obviously. There are so many possible storylines to work with, so many stories to tell. I'd really love to see some Charlie, Eileen, or Krissy Chambers cameos. I think that Charlie and Claire would get along really well (just read this post). Rowena is another character that I think could easily be worked into the canon. She could teach the girls all kinds of magic and be the fun wine aunt that spoils the girls on their birthdays. I don't think that Claire would like her very much, but, Rowena and Alex would probably get along just fine. How much I need this in my life: 1000000000000000000000000/10 when I heard that this idea had been tossed out I was so angry. Why doesn't this exist?

Men of Letters prequel that's mostly set in the bunker. This show could really expand on the canon lore and give us some more background on the Men of Letters, as well as any other similar/rival organizations that were around before the main show's time. The Men of Letters have so much story potential for a spin-off; corrupt leadership, new monsters, other organizations, expanding the MoL to outside the U.S. Episodes could be in a monster-of-the-week (MOTW) format, starting and ending with the Man of Letters the case is assigned to making notes in his journal or case file or talking about the case, as well as the overall season arcs. Episodes would be titled by their case number, i.e S1 E1 Case No. 1925-4, etc How much I need this in my life: 1000000/10, the supernatural/historical drama combo would be absolutely stunning.

A series focusing on all of the alternate timelines and universes, both the ones mentioned in the main show and ones just randomly created for an episode. There are infinite possibilities. Each episode would be in a MOTW format, but with different versions of Sam and Dean. The HunterCorp universe, Jared and Jensen from the French Mistake, a universe where their names are switched, a universe where Dean went to college and was the one with the demon blood powers, a universe where they drive a Mustang instead of the Impala, a universe where Sam isn't scared of clowns. I could go on, but I'm going to stop myself here. How much I need this in my life: 9/10 I think it would be pretty funny, but it's not my best idea.

A Bobby and Rufus spin-off where they talk about cases they worked on together or with other hunters, but the stories are told similarly to Tall Tales. It's the same story but told from different points of view depending on who's talking. I wish we'd gotten to see more of Bobby and Rufus because I think those two are hilarious and really think that this could be funny, even if it was just a web series with twenty-minute episodes. How much I need this in my life: 10/10, I love Bobby and Rufus and I think that they have a lot of interesting hunting stories to tell.

GHOSTFACERS GHOSTFACERS GHOSTFACERS. How much I need this in my life: 100000000000000000000000/10, I love the Ghostfacers. That's my whole idea.

A Jack-centric show that's almost a political drama. Jack is the ruler of heaven and is constantly being manipulated by angels, demons, and Death herself. He just wants to make an afterlife paradise, but power-hungry angels won't leave him alone. Remember that Jack is very young and trusting by nature, so there is a lot of potential for disaster if he gets goaded into doing something, like making new universes or ending existing ones. Cas is a main character and he does his best to protect Jack, but he has to be careful to not seem overprotective/like another manipulator or Jack won't trust him either. I have no idea if I'm making any sense, but shoutout to me if I am. For some reason, I've always thought that heaven would be an interesting setting for a spin-off, and those angels are pretty similar to power-hungry politicians. How much I need this in my life: 800/10, I would totally watch this.

A very short series that just destroys the canon finale. Twelve episodes, detailing the storylines that were ignored or destroyed by Carry On. E1: Rescuing Cas from the Empty and he and Dean have a long talk about their ~feelings~. They kiss, and for the first time, Dean’s mind is free of doubt about whether or not anyone could ever love all of him. E2: Eileen returns. She says nothing when she sees Dean and Cas holding hands, just raises her eyebrow and smiles knowingly. Some excellent movie night content. E3: 1 year later. Sam and Eileen’s wedding. Dean and Cas aren’t legally married, but their matching gold rings are very prominently shown. It isn’t mentioned. The wedding is almost canceled because of the rain, but with a wave of Jack’s hand the clouds disappear and the birds start to sing. E4: Sam and Eileen have moved out of the Bunker. Cas finally convinces Dean to downsize, so they find a little house in Lawrence and settle down. Cas works as a special ed teacher. Dean works as a mechanic. Miracle loves the backyard but makes sure to stay away from the beehives in the back corner. E5: Sam and Eileen’s twins, Mary and Maura, are born. Dean and Cas love their nieces, and Jack loves them too. He doesn’t know what to call himself, so they settle on Uncle and call it good. E6: Deaths. They all die old. Cas’s vessel has aged, but he can’t die, so when Dean finally passes away in his sleep, Cas scatters his ashes in the woods and disappears, ascending to heaven, to spend eternity with Dean. The closing scene is a dark screen, with the whoosh of wings and a soft “Hello, Dean.” OK. That was a long one. My apologies. How much I need this in my life: 100000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000/10. I would reach nerdvana thirty seconds into episode one.

Another spinoff of that idea is just...Dean and Cas living a normal life. Short episodes. Cas goes to the grocery store. Dean drags Cas to a horror movie fan convention. Cas meets a roomba. How much I need this in my life: I can’t type enough zeroes to express it.

Campbell prequel that focuses on Mary and her childhood. Mary being raised as a hunter but not being allowed on hunts. Mary rushing home to finish her chemistry homework so she can help her dad track a nest of vampires moving east. Mary missing her prom to help Samuel on a hunt. Mary trying to keep her real life secret from John, a man she knows loves the parts of her he knows about. Mary always being an outsider, the kindest and most beautiful girl in her class, but so slow to trust and quick to speak that everyone is afraid to be her friend. Mary is a character that has the potential a lot more development, for twelve seasons she’s the burning martyr in every Winchester’s imagined paradise. She deserves more. How much I need this in my life: 11/10, Mary isn’t my favorite character but I would die for her.

Gabriel spin-off. That’s it, that’s the idea. How much I need this in my life: 10000000/10, Gabriel is a character that we don’t know a lot about so there are so many possible directions for a story about him to go.

Show set in the SPN universe that doesn’t really interact with the main show’s canon. It’s about two cops in the 30s that become hunters by accident. After investigating the apparent suicide of a hunter in their small town, they become enthralled by her library, filled with books about ghosts and vampires. They pour over her journals on their own time, fascinated by what they’re reading. They get to know the hunter through her writings, her accounts of her hunts and travels. Eventually, a nest of vampires settles in the town and the two put their newfound knowledge to the test. This show would just be based on canon lore, there wouldn’t be any mention of the Winchesters or other main characters, although a few MoL team-ups is definitely a possibility. The two become quite a team, tracking werewolf backs on bulletin boards in their basements and hoarding rock salt. How much I need this in my life: 89/10, I think this could be really interesting and I am a sucker for historical hunters.

Speaking of historical hunters-Samuel Colt prequel. Cowboys, vampires, cowpires. Hunting in the wild west, galloping across the prairie chasing a pack of werewolves. This show could also tell us a lot about how different types of monsters spread across the U.S. Ghosts will go anywhere people go, but what about vampires? Shapeshifters? Ghouls? What was it like to hunt without technology to help with research? The hunters in this series would be the authors of the journals that modern hunters use every day. They’re the ones that tested tracking and trapping methods. Again, no idea if this is making sense, but I think that a supernatural western would be really awesome and would expand/substantiate the canon lore. How much I need this in my life: 1000000000000000000000000000000/10, I love cowboys and I love Supernatural. This is literally the best thing that could ever happen to me.

Crowley. I want to know more about him. A series that tells us all about Fergus Roderick MacLeod, starting with when he was born in Scotland and ending with his death in All Along the Watchtower. We know that Rowena was his mother, that he was a tailor, that he sold his soul for an extra three inches ~down there~, and that he was a terrible dad. I want to know more about his childhood, about the people he made deals with, about how he became king of the crossroads and of Hell. Crowley was a very interesting character that was abused by the story. I want to know more about him. How much I need this in my life: 10000000000000000000000000000000000000/10, I really do love Crowley and I would watch this a thousand times over.

Final idea: MOTW only. No season arc, no overall storyline. New hunters every episode, from all different times, from over the world. All kinds of monsters. One episode in Victorian England, the next in 1990s Los Angeles. Very few recurring characters, if any. The recurring characters would be the Bobby Singers of the world; the lore guys that you call when you need help. Each new character has their own style, own car, own music, own personality. The show could have some a m a z i n g guest stars because they’d only appear in a few episodes. There are so many possibilities for episodes, even if they weren’t full length. How much I need this in my life: 100000/10, I love MOTW episodes and would really like to get to know the characters. It would be very easy to write one-off fanfics for this show, and also very easy to introduce this show’s characters into Supernatural’s canon.

You made it to the end!!!!!!!! That’s all I have for now. Sorry for writing so much, I just can’t stop thinking about SPN and all of the wasted stories.

[darkshrimpemotions]

Okay so here’s how the wedding party goes IMO (and eventually my insane ass is gonna write their VOWS but we’re saving that for Valentine’s Day we’re SAVING IT)

Ahem.

So Donna is the wedding planner, on the condition that she doesn’t have to be in it (she loves weddings but she tends to get a little blubbery, and she’d rather do that from the seats where Jody can put an arm around her and she doesn’t have to be in any pictures). The theme is Cowboy Sunrise.

Patience does the photography, including a truly embarrassingly cute cowboy-themed engagement photo shoot.

Sam is Cas’s best man, and Claire is his groomswoman.

OG Charlie is Dean’s best woman, and Garth is his groomsman.

Rowena arrives from Hell to officiate, looking fabulous as always. Jack is the ring bearer.

There are no sides in the seating arrangements. Everyone spreads out willy-nilly, Cas’s people and Dean’s people all together. Some of the angels show up, to Cas’s surprise and delight, and they and the hunters eye each other with varying levels of wariness and curiosity. But with God, the Darkness, and the Queen of Hell in attendance, nobody dares to even think of misbehaving today.

Everyone in Heaven gets a day pass, so there’s a lot of awkwardness when people meet their doppelgangers. The Bobbies decide they hate each other immediately but keep their grumbling to a minimum. Pamela immediately starts flirting with Rowena. Jo Harvelle keeps eyeing OG Charlie with barely-concealed interest. Dean didn’t see that coming, somehow, but good for her!

They weren’t going to do the whole giving people away thing, but then Dean got a little weak in the knees on his way down the aisle so Mary stepped up and held onto him the rest of the way there, where she handed him off to Cas with a smile and a kiss on both their cheeks.

Claire and Kaia egg Cas on into tossing a bouquet. Eileen catches it, and Sam turns so red he’s nearly purple.

At the reception there’s food, booze, and a heinously embarrassing slideshow Donna put together of all the photos she could find of Dean and Cas smiling. It’s not a long slideshow but it doesn’t matter because one of the wedding gifts was a camera and they have the rest of their lives to build on it.

Dean and Cas’s first dance is to “Love Of A Lifetime” by Firehouse, the most disgustingly romantic power ballad I could think of off the top of my head.

Their second dance is to “Lover” by Taylor Swift. Obviously.

[sams-sass]

Within The Evergreens

This is one of my favorite story lines so I decided to write one of my own. 

GIF not mine

Summary: You and Sam play along during a case. 

Characters: You, Dean, Sam

Pairings: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Fluffy and sweet. It’s long, I got carried away.

You walked out of your room and into the library where you saw Sam looking at his laptop.

“Please tell me you found us a case.” You said to him coming around to lean on the table in front of him. He looked at you and sat up a little straighter clearing his throat. “Come on, Sam. If I don’t get out of this bunker soon, I may lose my mind.” You said letting your arms spread further down the table as your back twisted slightly. Sam’s eyes lingered on you for a little longer than usual and he licked his lips.

“Uh yeah, yeah. I found one not too far from here. I don’t know if your going to like it though.” He said rubbing the back of his neck slightly as your back straightened and you stood taller, your hands sliding across the cool wood.

“Why wouldn’t I like it?” You asked walking over to look at the computer behind him. You let one hand sling across one shoulder as you brought your chin to rest on the other one. Sam stiffened under your touch and cleared his throat again. God, he smelt good.

“Couples.” He said gesturing towards the computer. “Whatever it is, its going after couples staying at this new all inclusive spa hotel about five hours from here.” You looked over the article talking about how multiple husbands of newly wed couples were found killed, wives taken into custody.

“Ghost possession?” You asked standing up letting Sam relax.

“Possibility.” Sam answered nodding. Dean walked in with a cup of coffee.

“Hey, got us a case?” He asked.

“Yeah, newly wed couples. Husbands being killed, wives going to jail for it. Nice spa hotel about 5 hours from here.” Sam explained.

“Awesome.” Said Dean. “How do you want to play it? FBI? Exterminators? Or would you like to lean how to give massages and get all touchy feely?” Dean asked raising his eyebrows and smiling, wiggling his fingers.

“Ew.” Was all you said back, arms crossed over your chest.

“I was actually thinking undercover.” Sam said looking at Dean, refusing to look at you.

“How would we even?....” You asked letting your voice trail off. “Oh.” You said as realization hit you.

“Hell yes.” Dean said winking at you.

“Again, ew.” You laughed, Dean chuckling with you.

“I’ll go pack.” Dean said walking with an extra pep in his step. You looked at Sam, not really sure what to say. He stood up and faced you, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I guess I gotta wife up.” You said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll pack too.” He said laughing with you. “Oh! Y/N, they have some dinner or something every Friday night that all the couples went to the night the husband died.”

“I’ve got just the dress.” You said with a smile as you walked out of the library and into your room. You started to look through your clothes for appropriate outfits. Taking out a duffel you threw everything in, keeping your hands preoccupied but letting your mind wander. You thought about how you were going to pull this off. You loved both boys, but Sam meant something else to you entirely. You were madly in love with him, and had been for years. He was always so sweet, kind, and caring you fell and couldn’t help it. You tried to throw hints his way, but he always seemed to not catch on or do anything to get out of the situation. You couldn’t pretend to be married to him, but god you wanted to. You also didn’t want to pretend to be married to Dean, you didn’t want Sam to think anything was going on. What if you and Dean went in as a married couple and Sam thought that’s what you wanted. You wanted Sam so much you couldn’t stand it, you wouldn’t want him to think you liked his brother. Your whole body was buzzing as you slipped on a sweater dress, tights, and knee high boots. You ran your fingers through your hair and painted your nails a dark red.

Dean was in his room putting a bunch of stuff into his duffel, he had a plan. He was finally going to let Sammy and Y/N play out being together so they could finally see they were meant for each other. If Dean had to watch Y/N get all giddy and Sam stare at her for WAY too long again, Dean was going to lose his mind. He knew Sammy was hopeless, he was in love with her and it was clear to every one but Y/N. Y/N was beautiful, smart, and man she could kick ass. Dean was ready for them to be together so the annoying mutual pining would be done, but also because he wanted them to be happy. Dean grabbed his stuff and headed towards the war room.

You walked down the hallway into the war room, both boys already there. You leaned against the door frame on your elbow, placing your other hand on your hip and running your hand through your hair slightly to hold your head.

“So! Who is lucky enough to receive my hand in marriage?” You said as both boys turned to look at you. Dean quickly pushed Sam forward and clasped him on the shoulder.

“Sammy here will have the honors.” Dean said with a smile. Sam looked at his brother and then looked at you and nodded a small nervous nod. Your heart raced as you looked at them, a blush covering your cheeks no doubt. This was happening, you were going to have to pretend to love Sam like a husband. Two problems, 1) could you let it go when the case was over? 2) how were you going to pretend without showing how you really felt? You smiled and walked over to them both, Sam quickly grabbed your duffel and made eye contact with you.

“I understand if you don’t-.” Sam started.

“Sam, if there was anyone I would want to be fake married to, it would be a gentleman like you.” You said with a smile, cutting him off before he could stop this from happening. Sam looked at you and gave you a wide grin, showing off his dimples and brightening his whole face. The three of you walked out the door and got into the impala. About an hour into your drive you put your elbows up on the back of the front seat and poked your head in between the two boys.

“We need to stop somewhere.” You said, glancing at Dean.

“Why?”

“Sammy and I need rings.” You said, looking between both of them.

“Right, ok we’ll find something.” Dean nodded as you sunk into the backseat again. About an hour later the three of you stopped by a town for lunch. You all sat down in the diner and ate your food with small talk, talking about the case, and different opinions on what it could be. You then all went to a pawn shop where you and Sam bought rings. The rest of the drive was covered by classic rock and Dean tossing a few jokes Sam’s way about how to be a good husband. You pulled up to the hotel and Dean let out a long whistle, it was absolutely beautiful. It was a tall, large, Victorian building that sat nestled in a dense forest. A dusting of snow was covering the ground and the tall evergreens surrounding the hotel. Twilight was descending, darkening the sky slightly making the lights of the hotel cast a glow in the otherwise quiet area. Sam touched the small of your back lightly and glanced down at you.

“Ready?” He said raising his eyebrows and giving you a hopeful grin.

“Of course! Let’s go, husband.” You said with a smile of your own as you slipped on your new wedding band. As you walked in you and Sam made your story: married a month, October 22nd was your wedding day, met through a mutual friend, waiting to take your honeymoon until the warmer months, thinking about Italy, needed a long weekend to celebrate. The secretary took your information and gave you your room key as your bags were taken by a bellhop and escorted upstairs. You and Sam exchanged looks and walked up the stairs to your room. Opening the door you gasped and Sam’s face fell slightly. The room was gorgeous, it was a mix of warm nude tones, dark wood, and burgundy and gold accents. There was a fireplace with an already lit fire. The bed was large and looked incredibly comfortable. On either side of the bed sat French doors leading out to a balcony that overlooked a lake surrounded by evergreens and a path of lanterns. The two of you walked in and slowly walked around the room, your luggage was already there so there wasn’t anything for you to do. You walked into the bathroom, it was large, clean, and gorgeous. Marble tile covered the entire room, floor to ceiling. A mirror in a flaking gold frame sat perched against the wall, double sinks rested in an antique dresser. You ran your fingers along the entire thing until you saw the shower. It was basically a room in itself, a large showerhead hung from the ceiling pointing directly down, there were three other showerheads that came in from the sides. It was like a freaking car wash.

“Sam!” You called to him. “Come look at this shower!” Sam came into the room and immediately raised his eyebrows at the entire bathroom.

“That’s huge!” He said with a boyish grin.

“I know right!” You agreed chuckling. You both turned to look at the tub, marble tile lined stars leading into it. There was a half circle of windows that the large tub was fitted into, jets were on all sides and bottom. The tub was surrounded by different scents, dried flowers, and plush towels.

“If you ever cant find me, I’ll be in there.” You joked.

“Noted.” Sam said laughing. “Hey, can I talk to you about something?” He asked placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Of course.” You said nerves eating away at your stomach. The two of you walked back into the room and sat on the bed.

“I know we have to play husband and wife for a bit, and we are newly weds so we will probably be really in love.” Sam started.

“Ok.” You said nodding, trying to get it out of him.

“Basically I just wanted ask you if it was ok for me to be like…touching you a lot and holding your hand, calling you pet names, showing you affection essentially. I just wanted to know if you were ok with that.” He said looking at his hands, clearly petrified of what you might do if he touched you without warning. Your heart jumped at the idea. Sam loving you, holding you, kissing you. Your breathing stopped and it took everything in you not to smile and blurt out that you have only been dreaming about this.

“I know, Sam. It’s all ok, I know you respect me and would never cross a line unless you knew I was cool with it.” You said putting your hand on his, feeling the warmth of his skin. You both smiled at each other as you made eye contact. It was held for a little longer than normal and you could swear you saw him lean forward slightly. A knock sounded at your door, making you jump and take your hand off of Sam’s. Sam cleared his throat and opened the door, letting Dean in. He looked around the room, in awe just as you and Sam had. He was dressed in a janitors uniform, also undercover.

“Nice digs.” He said nodding his head excitedly and walking around the room.

“I know right, did you see the tub? Like damn.” You said with a chuckle, Dean laughing with you. “So, what’s up?” You asked Dean.

“Right, so the couples were all in love, like Swayze and Moore in love.”

“Are you talking about ‘Ghost’?” You asked him, sending Sam an amused look.

“Yes. Yes I am.” Dean said looking at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Anyway, they attended this fancy dinner thing they host on Fridays, tonight, and the next mornings the husbands were found with their hearts torn out.” Dean explained.

“Like werewolf ripped out?” Sam asked.

“Dunno, gotta go to the coroner tomorrow to see.” Dean said. “Well, you have got to get ready for this dinner tonight. I’ll see you guys later.” Dean left the room, leaving you and Sam alone again.

“I’m going to get ready, let me know if you need the bathroom.” You said grabbing your bag and walking into the bathroom.

“Will do.” Sam said with a polite smile. You took the dress out of your bag and hug it up on the door, stripping out of your clothes and pulling your hair up you took a quick shower. The shower was absolutely incredible, even shaving felt amazing. You got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in one of the lavish towels and stood in front of the mirror. Putting one leg on the counter at a time to rub lotion all over your skin felt so good. You hadn’t pampered yourself like this in a long time. You put on modest makeup that flaunted your natural face, except for the bold red you put on your lips. You put a little spray in your hair to give it a little bounce and your favorite perfume. Lastly you pulled on the dress, black with a low cut neckline. It hugged your curves the right way and showed off what you wanted it to show off. You opened the bathroom door and faced Sam.

“Oh. My. God. Sam you have to-.” Sam was staring at you, not just staring, he was practically drooling. His face was blank and his eyes were dark. You watched his chest rise and fall in large, heavy breaths. Your core tightened as he looked at you and you rubbed your thighs together.

“You…you look stunning.” He said stumbling over his words slightly. He walked towards you and rubbed your arm with his hand. “I mean it, really beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome.” You said back, and he did. You had seen Sam in his suit when you were all being an FBI agent many times, but this time it was different. This time it was for you. Sam laughed slightly at your compliment.

“Thank you, shall we?” He said raising a hand towards the door.

“Yes, I’m starving.” You both walked into the main dining room and were once again halted in place by its beauty. The theme of dark wood accented by burgundy and gold carried into this room, but there were lights everywhere. Almost every surface was donned with a candle. A chandelier hung in the middle of the room and there was an old bar in the corner. The hostess showed you two to a table, Sam pulled out your chair for you and then sat across from you and smiled. Here we go, this was it. He was beginning to act like a man in love. You both looked at the menu a little, a man came over to your table for you to order a drink. Sam ordered a beer and you ordered a whiskey sour.

“Do you know what your getting?” He asked you.

“I don’t know yet, I think the filet mignon sounds delightful.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He said, he then placed his hand on the table and waited. You lifted your hand off your lap and put it in his. His hand closed around yours and his thumb made lazy circles over your skin. He was looking at the menu and the act of you two holding hands looked so natural you almost believed it yourself. The waiter came back with your drinks and you both ordered the filet, he left and the two of you were alone again. Sam raised your hand to his mouth and left a small kiss on the underside of your wrist. You licked your lips and gave him your best smile. You leaned forward, placing your elbow on the table and took a long pull from your drink.

“So, tell me something about you I don’t know.” You said running your finger around the brim of your water glass looking up at him from under your lashes. Sam gave you a crooked smile and looked away from you for a moment.

“I don’t know.” He said giving a small chuckle.

“I’ll go first, I took ice skating and horse back riding lessons as a kid.” You said.

“You took ice skating? I would have loved to see that.” He joked with you.

“Why?” You laughed with him. “I bet it’s the short, tight dresses.” You said leaning even closer.

“Based on how you look tonight, I would say that’s a yes.” He said giving your hand a squeeze and letting his eyes lower slowly tracking their way back up you until they met your eyes. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted slightly. Your food came and you realized you had totally forgotten about your hunger. The two of your ate your food with small talk and one more drink. When you were done the two of you moved to the bar. Sam sat on a stool, there was a stool next to him, but seeing how things went at dinner you decided to be brave. You laid one hand on Sam’s shoulder and the other on his opposite thigh. You stood in between his legs and leaned against him. He reached up and ran his fingers slightly through your hair, placing it behind your ear. Your heart was racing so hard, you were sure Sam could hear it. He leaned forward again and placed his forehead against your temple.

“I don’t see anyone acting weirdly.” He said into your hair.

“I don’t smell anything, and I’ve seen a few people touch silver and not flinch.” You said running your hand down his back.

“Narrows it down a bit.” Sam agreed looking at you. Because he was sitting and you were standing, you two were at eye level. Sam’s pupils looked dilated, ‘was this something more than acting?’ you thought to yourself. The rest of the night passed with nothing happening. The two of you made your way up to your room without touching each other more than usual. You already missed his skin on yours.  

“I can sleep on the floor.” He said with a shrug.

“It’s ok, Sam. We don’t want anyone to think we aren’t what we say we are.” You assured him, he only nodded back.

“I’m going to wash up, need the bathroom?” You asked getting your PJ’s out of your bag.

“Nah, go ahead.” Washing up was longer than expected as you couldn’t shake your thoughts away. That was so personal, he was so sincere. Unless he’s an amazing actor, you couldn’t see how it was all fake. Taking a deep breath you opened the door and saw Sam was already asleep. Climbing into bed you almost fell into Sam’s body and let yourself fall into his heat and warm scent. You stopped, telling yourself there was nothing there and made your body lay on the cold side of the mattress. You couldn’t fall asleep and after about an hour of trying, you decided to stop tossing and turning. You got out of bed, pulling on one of the plush and warm robes supplied by the hotel and stepped onto the balcony. You were completely mesmerized at the scene in front of you. Snow was falling lightly, the trees catching it with their long branches. Lanterns lined a path around the lake, emitting an amber light that showed the snow dancing to the ground. You loved snow, there was a silence and stillness to the earth during and after a snowfall that you couldn’t stop looking at. White snowflakes cascading down in their peaceful fall against a black sky was so beautiful, you didn’t think you could ever grow accustomed to it. You were so lost in looking at the sky and all the thoughts of Sam running through your mind that you hadn’t realized he was now standing in the doorway of the balcony. His eyes were on your face as you breathed the clean, cold air into your lungs and let your eyes fall closed. Sam felt his chest tighten as he looked at you, your body was curled into itself, your eyes were closed and your face looked completely at peace. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he didn’t want you to catch him staring either. He walked over to you and knelt in front of you, placing a hand on yours.

“Y/N?” He said your name so softly it was just above a whisper. Your eyes opened and looked directly into his. It took everything he had to contain himself when you did that. When you looked so deep in his eyes, like you were looking for the meaning of life.

“Sam.” You said back placing your other hand over his. Your hand was freezing and Sam quickly gathered both your hands into his large ones, trying to warm them up. He pulled your grasped hands up to his lips and blew hot air onto your hands. His eyes were still connected to yours as your fingers were pressed against his lips. This was easily the most intimate moment you had had together and your heart was racing as you looked into Sam’s eyes. There was such a strong tension between you two it made your stomach flip and your chest burn. Suddenly, a scream filled the air, it was a woman, pained. You both stood up and raced out of the room running down the hall. Dean ran toward you from the other direction, you all ran in the direction the scream came from. People were poking their heads out of their rooms, but no one was in the hallway with you. You rounded a corner and heard crying coming from one of the rooms. Dean opened the door with his master key and the three of you burst in the room. A woman was kneeling over a man crying heavily. You watched her chest rise and fall as her shoulders shook.

“No!” She wailed. “What have I done? What have I done? I love you, no please I love you so much.” Your heart was aching for this woman. You couldn’t begin to understand what she was going through. You walked over to her and placed you hand on her shoulder. Her head lifted and her eyes looked in yours with so much pain you almost started to cry. By now, hotel employees were filing into the room, the police had been called and there was nothing else you could do. You saw her hands were covered in blood and that the mans chest had a hole in it, right where his heart should be. You looked him over further and saw that his throat was also slit, interesting. “I don’t know what happened, one minute we were talking over a glass of wine and the next he’s dead and I’m holding his heart.” She had ectoplasm running down her face. You looked up at Dean and Sam. You all quickly left, you didn’t want to leave her but the police were already on their way and multiple other people had seen what you did. It broke your heart to leave her there, knowing she would be punished for something she didn’t do, but you had to solve this case. The three of you entered the room you and Sam were staying in.

“It’s definitely a ghost possession, she had ectoplasm on her face. She tore his heart out of his chest, I think we are looking for one seriously pissed off woman.” You said once the door was closed and it was clear no one had followed the three of you.

“This hotel, its been freshly renovated, but its old. I think this was someone’s house at one point.” Sam said looking for his laptop in his bag.

“Yeah, probably.” Dean said salting the doorway. Sam was typing and Dean was salting every entrance.

“Got something!” Sam said from the table. “Bethany Saunders formerly Bethany Hardwick. She was married to Jacob Saunders and a month after their wedding Bethany was found dead, throat slit. Her husband, Jacob was then married to Bethany’s sister, Victoria, two days later.”

“Well, he’s an ass.” You said looking over Sam’s shoulder at the article.

“Yeah, major dick.” Dean agreed with you. “Say where she’s buried?” Dean asked.

“Heathcliff Cemetery, about a mile from here.” Sam said showing Dean on the map.

“Got it, I’ll go do the salt and burn, you two stay here and keep these people safe.” Dean said flinging the door open, Bethany stood right there. She grabbed Dean by the throat and tossed him aside, you took out your iron crowbar and slid it through her.

“Dean, go. Sam and I got this!” You called to him. He got to his feet and ran out the door. You grabbed the salt and made a circle of salt as Sam closed the door and waited by it with another can of salt. “What are you doing?” You asked him.

“I’m waiting for her to come back in here, then salt the door so she can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Oh, good thinking.” You said finishing your circle. Minuets ticked by and you knew Dean was already digging up her grave. It was going to take a while for him to dig it by himself, you were going to have to keep this ghost entertained for a while. It was almost 10 minuets by the time something happened.

“Y/N!” Sam called, you turned and Bethany was right in front of you. You swiped at her with your crowbar and she disappeared for a moment. Sam sprinkled the salt on the doorway once again and ran into the circle with you. You two stood back to back, weapons ready. She appeared a few more times as you and Sam swiped your weapons through her. Suddenly a window opened and the salt all blew away. She was walking towards you and you tried to get away. Sam jumped in front of you, shielding you from her when suddenly she burned up in flames. You and Sam looked at each other, heavy breaths and beating hearts. Dean burst through the door, covered in dirt.

“Good, glad you guys are ok.” He said, you didn’t hear him, Sam was still staring at you. He took one step towards you and ran his fingers through your hair. Dean smiled and left you two alone.

“Thank you.” You said to him as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“At dinner you asked me to tell you something you don’t know about me.”

“Yes.” You said nodding.

“I love you Y/F/N Y/L/N, I love you so much.” Sam said with a smile.

“I love you too, Sam Winchester.” You said as he closed the space between you too. His mouth opened as the kiss deepened. You let out a small moan and Sam’s hands traveled down your body pulling you closer to him. This was everything you wanted. Everything you needed. Your fingers tugged lightly on his hair, pulling a moan from Sam. The two of you fell into passion that was missed for years. Built up emotions making the world drop from around you.

One Year and One Month Later

“Can you please tell me where we are going!” You said touching the blindfold around your eyes.

“No.” Sam said laughing at you.

“Are you sure Dean and Cas are going to be alright with Bobby? He’s so little.” You asked. Yeah, Sam had gotten you on the first try.

“Baby, it will all be ok. Try and have fun. I gave them written instructions and if anything goes wrong they have our phone numbers. Plus, Bobby is such a good baby, he hardly ever makes a fuss.” He said taking your hand in his. The car slowed and Sam came to your side of the car to open the door. He took your hand again and helped you out of the car. He stepped behind you and took your blindfold off. You were back at the same hotel where you solved that case a year ago.

“Sam.” You said turning to face him.

“We didn’t get to really enjoy this place ad now that there is no more ghost I think we should enjoy it.” He said massaging your shoulders and kissing your neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” And you two walked in the hotel for the weekend you deserved a year ago.

[icecream-and-gadreel]

FMK Ch. 1: Dean, Sam, Castiel (NSFW)

Series Summary: The trickster is known for his cruel, oftentimes deadly pranks. So when you, Sam, and Dean found out he was up to his old ways again, you came with reinforcements. What should have been a swift victory turned into you being stuck in the wildest game you've ever played in your life.

Summary: You close in on the Trickster's hiding place, but soon fall prey to one of his pranks.

Pairing: Readerxvarious

Other characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Charlie, Bobby, Gabriel

Rating: NSFW (Quick! Read it while your boss isn't looking!)

Warnings: Blanket Warning: Due to the nature of the series, everything has dubious consent! Language, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), violence, implied death, hallucinations

Word count: 1900+

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom​ @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis

A/N: Boy. I honestly don't know how to prepare you for this. So...enjoy pals!

Masterlist

The trickster bites into a nougat filled chocolate bar, watching as you all surround him. Dean and Sam on either side of him, you and Castiel in front. The room is murky grey, with flickering fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. As far as you can tell, the warehouse goes on and on farther than you can see. It was only seconds after entering the building that you knew exactly what you were dealing with.

“This ends, now,” Sam growls, gripping the blood-drenched stake in hand. The trickster stares around with an exaggerated gasp, pretending to shiver. Castiel narrows his eyes, gaze trained on the trickster.

“Aw, look! You got my boots shaking!” the trickster cooes, holding a shaking hand up to his mouth. When nobody laughs, he rolls his eyes, taking another generous bite out of his candy bar. “You guys are no fun~”

“How are you still alive?” Dean asks, gaining a shrug in response.

“Dean, something isn't right,” Castiel says, staring around the room. As you turn to ask him what's wrong, the angel is gone.

“Cas?” you whisper, pausing when you notice that the trickster is looking at you.

“Why haven't I seen you around?” he asks, gesturing to the Winchester's. “I'm used to the tall, dark, and brooding ones, but who are you?”

“Unimportant,” you respond, trying to keep a brave face. Though he doesn't seem the serious type, he has an unmistakable air about him, more powerful than you could have ever imagined. “We can't let you keep killing people.”

The trickster stares at the men, ignoring your words. Turning his eyes back to you, he gestures around the room. “Fuck, marry, kill. Dean, Sam, or me?” he asks.

“Let's start with kill,” you grunt, raising your gun to him. The trickster tssks you, resting a hand on his hip.

“Come on, easy question,” he says, a frown going over his face as the Winchester's rush toward him. With a snap of his fingers, the other men are gone, leaving just you.

Shit.

He closes in on you, and you take cautious steps away from him, trying to will yourself to shoot him. “I like you, new girl, I really do.”

“Stay away –” You cut yourself off when he disappears, eyes shifting around the room in panic. It seems smaller now. There aren't any windows, and the door you entered through disappeared. “Sam?” you call, your voice echoing off the walls. “Dean? Casti...el...” your voice trails away as your eyes land on a sparkly pink notebook and a sharpie laying in the middle of the room. Crouching down, you flip it open, your face sinking. The page is covered in hearts and cutesy doodles. But what catches your eye is the big, blocky letters written smack dab in the middle.

FUCK MARRY KILL: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

You toss the notebook away, shaking your head and staring up at the ceiling. “No, fuck you! Let me out of here!” you hiss. No response. “I won't play!” you scream. Again, nothing. You clench your jaw, the looming realization that you're at his mercy setting in. “God damn it...” Reluctantly, you plop down on the ground, staring at the page once more. “God fucking damn it...” you mumble, ticking off your choices. You flinch at the sound of girlish giggles and squeals filling the room, searching for the source of the noise. The notebook disappears from your hands with a puff of glitter, and the lights above you flicker. Your body feels heavy, like it's sinking into the ground beneath you. Closing your eyes, you allow your body to fall back, expecting to feel hard concrete beneath you. Instead, you feel something plush.

__

Warmth.

Hands grabbing at you greedily.

It takes you a few seconds to catch up with the moment, but when you do, you press a harsh kiss against your lover's lips, hands lacing through his hair as he grinds against you. You both roll around on the bed, biting and sucking at each other's lips, your legs wrapped around his waist. When he pulls out of the kiss, you bat open your eyes, a breath escaping you. 

Sam's face is flushed red, his pouty lips swollen and wet.

“Sammy...” you breathe, tightening your legs around him. He responds with a coy smile, trailing harsh, sloppy kisses down your neck, licking and sucking your skin as he palms at your breasts.

“Take these off,” he whispers, yanking at your shorts. You lift your hips, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. He continues trailing kisses down your body, leaving bites and hickies in his wake. Pulling your panties to the side, Sam nuzzles against your sex, a moan escaping his lips. He drags his tongue along your slit, slurping away your juices as he grips his fingers in your thighs. “Fuck you taste so good.”

You bite your lip, resting your hand on his head and rolling your hips. God, he's gifted. It almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are. He pulls your clit between his lips, gently suckling. “Fuck,” you moan, voice fluttering. You lace your fingers through his hair, back arching as pleasure courses through you. His tongue pushes deep between your folds, lapping and sucking your tender flesh before plunging inside of you. Sam reaches a hand to your breast, teasing at your nipple with gentle pinches and tugs. You cry out, thighs squeezing around his head as your orgasm takes over. He laps at your sex as you ride your release, keeping you grounded underneath his embrace. Sam raises up on his knees and plunges his fingers deep inside you, eyes never breaking from yours.

“Fuck, I'm glad we're finally doing this,” he says, a breathless chuckle escaping him. You silently nod, grabbing his cock and giving it a gentle squeeze. He lifts your legs over his shoulders as he lines up with your entrance. You moan his name, closing your eyes as he eases into you, his thick cock stretching you more than you could have ever imagined. Sam grips your arms as he begins his rhythmic thrusting, holding you firm in your place. His eyes roll back as he's enveloped in your warmth, his hips slamming into you quicker. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, zips of electricity running up your spine.

“Oh my god, Sam!” you scream.

--

“What?” he asks.

Your eyes snap open, and you let out a puff of air, staring at yourself in the mirror. You reach your hands to touch the silver crown on your head, fingers ghosting along the flowing, white veil. Sam, with a furrowed brow, adjusts his tie in the mirror. 

“Look, I didn't mean anything bad was gonna happen,” Sam says, giving you a reassuring nod.

“...Huh?” you whisper, gaining a chuckle from him.

“You know, we got everything warded off,” he begins, giving your shoulder a rough pat. “And I'm pretty sure everyone here is strapped,” he adds, whirling around to the door as it flies open. “No, you can't see the bride until it's time!” Sam says, chasing off whoever just opened the door.

The bride.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, heart pounding in your chest. Today's the day and it feels like you didn't even know. God, why are you having cold feet right now of all times? He's the love of your life! You stare down at your beautiful, puffy dress, eyes landing on the sparkling ring on your finger. There's no telling where he got it from, but it's beautiful. A knock comes at the door, and you stand to your feet, smoothing your hands down your dress.

“Y-Yeah?” you yell, smiling as Charlie pokes her head into the room.

“We're ready for you – wow, look at her!” she cooes, a cheek to cheek grin on her face. Taking a deep breath, you snatch your bouquet up, allowing her to usher you to the wedding hall. You can hear the organ playing in the distance. Charlie says something to you, but your mind is a million miles away. Your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest, and your legs are beginning to wobble. Oh god. Why is this so scary? You turn the corner, being met with familiar faces standing in the pews, there eyes on you. Most are adorned in jeans and flannels, and just as Sam said, lots of them are carrying guns. You spot a few people sprawling out sigils on the walls, but they stop when you begin your descent down the aisle. Your groom is facing away from you, just as tradition calls for.

“Lookin' like a doll,” Bobby whispers to you as you pass, his hands wrapped tightly around his shotgun. You giggle, smiling when you see Sam waving at you from the line of groomsmen. You pause before your soon to be husband, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. Sucking in a breath, he turns to you, a smile immediately breaking across his face.

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean grunts, gaining whoops and hollers from his groomsmen. You playfully smack him on the arm, grabbing his hand in yours. His green eyes shift wildly, a permanent smile glued to his face. The priest begins, but all you can focus on his Dean. He looks starstruck, like he's never seen someone so beautiful in his life.

“I do,” Dean breathes, tears prickling at his eyes. Seeing this makes your eyes gloss over, and when the priest asks you the same question, you can barely choke out 'I do'.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, closing his bible. Dean grabs you by the waist, dipping you down and pulling you into a passionate kiss. You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let's get to that honeymoon suite,” Dean whispers, shooting you a wink. You both run down the aisle hand in hand, waving at the sea of family and friends applauding you.

As you push through the door, the world goes dark. You turn to look at the church, but nothing is there, save for a fence and two brick walls.  

--

The alley is dark and groggy, with trash bags piled up on either side of you. 

Who's hand were you holding? You look down at the angel blade you're gripping, cocking an eyebrow. Of course. It ends here. You swagger deeper into the alley, your face falling into a frown as Castiel crawls away from you on hands and knees. His hand buckles underneath him, causing him to fall flat on the ground. The red exit sign on the wall is the only source of illumination, but you can clearly see the battered and bruised angel look at you. He wears a defiant scowl, an unsuccessful attempt at bravery.

“Times up Castiel,” you say, the venom in your voice catching you off guard. He...deserves this, as far as you can remember. You lace your fingers through his hair, forcing him up as you raise the blade above your head.

–

You stare up at the ceiling, your heart racing.

What. The. Hell.

As you lean up, your eyes train on that god damn sparkly notebook again.

Right. The trickster. It all felt so real, as if each and everything that happened was always like that. You shake away the thoughts, snatching up the notebook and staring around the room.

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, staring down at the new set of names.

FUCK MARRY KILL: John Winchester, Gadreel, Cain