just look at the amount of personal space there is between sam and dean

Close Quarters

(For @manateeparty. Thank you for donating to @trashbrigade‘s gisholarship fundraiser!)


Sam shakes his head, laughing at his brother. “Always with the scissors, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t even dignify him with a response. Rock-Paper-Scissors is a sacred, binding contract for laundromat duty and he’s lost fair and square. He picks up the duffles full of dirty clothes and hoists them over his shoulder.

Cas, who has been watching this exchange with interest from the far bed, gets to his feet. “I’d be happy to assist you.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Sam practically chirps. “A laundry date.”

“Shut up, Sammy.” He looks at Cas. “C’mon if you’re coming.”

They try to time things to be back at the bunker before they’re out of clean clothes, but an unexpected addition to their last case had them heading four hundred miles in the wrong direction.

Dean slings the bags into the back seat while Cas searches for to the nearest laundromat. It’s not far from the motel and, from the pictures on the website, it looks fairly bright and cheery
as far as coin laundries go.

Dean parks out front and they each grab a bag. Inside, the washers stand in rows while dryers line the walls. Dean drops his bag on a high counter meant for folding clothes and goes to find the change machine. By the time he returns, his jacket pocket heavy with quarters, he finds Cas standing between two open washer doors carefully studying one of Sam’s t-shirts.

He looks to Dean with the same face he uses when he’s making sure a sigil is correct. “Is this considered a dark or a light?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorting.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Dean,” Cas says with the utmost concern, “the label says to wash separately.”

“They all say that, Cas. Time to live on the edge.” He reaches into the second washer and grabs the couple of things that are in there and throws them in with the other clothes.

Cas frowns, but pulls some more clothes out of the bag.

Dean sighs. “The trick is to not touch any of this nasty stuff. Have you met Sam Winchester?” He shudders; there’d been Mexican food recently.

“Of course I have, Dean,” Cas grouses. “And he said I should sort the laundry.”

Dean takes the bag from Cas’s hand and dumps it into the washer, then slams the door shut with a flourish. “Ok, maybe at home that’s fine, but on the road it’s all about cheap and efficient. And as long as there isn’t anything—“ he glances around at the other patrons before continuing, “unnatural on the clothes, you can wash them all together in cold water.” He’s still pissed about the ectoplasm that ruined one of his favorite band t-shirts. Sam knows that shit needs to be treated with vinegar first.

“I don’t understand why clothing comes with rules if you’re just going to ignore them.”

“You,” Dean says. “Mr. I Rebelled From Heaven. You’re judging my laundry law-breaking.”

Cas’s scowl lightens into something close to a smile.

Grinning, Dean hands Cas some quarters. “Go get some soap.”

When the soap is added, Dean slots the quarters one by one into the washer. “This used to be Sam’s favorite part. I had to lift him up so he could reach.”

“You spent a lot of time in laundromats as kids.”

“Yeah, and let me tell you most of them weren’t nearly as nice as this one.” He ushers Cas to a couple of empty seats where they can keep an eye on their washer. He nods toward the sign announcing free wi-fi that hangs over the row of vending machines. “Plenty of times Dad left us in one and went off to a bar.”

Cas gives him that same pinched-brow look he always gets when Dean talks about John, but Dean waves it off. “It was actually kind of fun. Sam and I played a lot of hide and seek in these things.” He nudges the wheeled laundry cart with his foot. “Raced around in these when the place was empty.”

It hadn’t been all bad. Even without a door to lock between them and the rest of the world, laundromats felt safer than motels a lot of the time. They were mostly populated by moms and old ladies and sometimes they shared snacks or gave quarters when John left them lacking in one or the other. The swishing sounds of the washer, the hum of the fluorescent lights, even the startling buzzers from the timers. These were all soothing, familiar sounds that led to the simple joy of clean, warm-from-the dryer clothing. Even after the years of having the bunker to call home, Dean still finds himself hoarding quarters just in case.

It’s funny to think that he learned all this as a child, but now he’s teaching an older-than-dirt angel how to do it. But it’s kind of nice to have him here, tagging along not because he has to but for the sheer sake of keeping Dean company. That’s been a happy realization, since the two of them became…well, whatever the hell they are these days. The way that having someone by your side can make even the most mundane tasks fun. Things like grocery shopping, where Cas studies coupons like they’re instructions for defusing a bomb, or washing dishes, which was inevitably followed by instructing Cas on how to snap a dishtowel. (Cas had gotten surprisingly good in a short amount of time with Dean’s ass as his target.) Not to mention the unexpected bonus of decreased nightmares that came with having this particular warm body next to his each night.

They sit in comfortable silence as the washers whir and the dryers tumble. Cas keeps his knee pressing against Dean’s, and sometimes Dean still can’t believe he spent all the time lecturing him on personal space. Especially now when he’d like nothing more than to pull him onto his lap and kiss him until they are both gasping for breath.  But that’ll have to wait. They’ve still got a few more days on the road before they can head home again. He tries not to think about how they’d be spending their time alone at the motel if Sam had been the one banished here.

Dean’s eye is caught by their washer accelerating into the final spin. Checking that the row is empty of people, he tugs Cas by the hand, leading him over to it. There, mostly hidden from view, he backs Cas up against the washer and kisses him, pressing against him so that the vibrations tingle through them both.

“Soon,” Cas whispers.

“Soon,” Dean agrees.

There’s time for one more kiss before the buzzer sounds.

It Is What It Is-Part 1

Summary: The reader is going through a rough patch, denying that there is something wrong. Dean and Sam are worried to the core, Dean even more so because of an awful suspicion and his hidden feeling for the reader. Is Dean going to be able to fix what is seemingly not broken?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester (friend and brother)

Warnings: mental health problems, depression, self loathing, swearing, death wish, self-harm, please, please, please say away from this if this triggers you

Words: 2023

A/N: This is going to be a 2 parter. It has been a long time since I’ve posted, I’ll explain why in the next post and this already hints at what was going on. I am sorry for being away.

As soon as you felt those dark waves come crashing down around you, swallowing light, happiness and even dreams, you knew what was happening. Suddenly, at 3 in the morning, you could feel it: the nagging dark feeling of emptiness, hopelessness.

It was right then and there, in the bed that you now called your very own, that you wished you were asleep, or far away, or not alone or just simply not there. Because it had started again, after all that you’d been through.

Depression is a noun and defined as “feelings of severe despondency and dejection”. It sounds all so easy in those very complicated words, still so much easier than the truth. Because depression is more than just a few words on a page, it so horrifying that no words can live up to it.

But never ever, would you admit that what you were experiencing was depression. No that would never be the case, even though it wasn’t the first time this happened.

Like a blanket full of numbness, hurt and worthlessness, draped over your body. Fully covering you and making you to a whole other person on the inside. On the outside you put on a mask, showing what you wanted people to see. Playing the main role of your own life, you’d just pretend you were okay until no one was looking.

Not that anyone was looking closely. Being a hunter is a lonely calling; it isolates you from other people. Sometimes even from other hunters. So no one would look too close, no witnesses you lied to, no other hunters you crossed paths with.

There were no friends and family who were able to look after you, there were none. Just like most hunters, your own fait got you into hunting. A mother, father and little brother, all lost in one night. Gone. Forever. Leaving you behind. And there were no friends either. This life doesn’t allow any space for friends.

Or that’s what you thought.

Because one day, you came across people who taught you better. Sam and Dean Winchester. Dangerous. Feared. Hunters. Legends. And somehow also family to you, at least by now.

They came crashing into your life with raised guns, unfastening the ropes and knots that kept you prisoner. In some way those two brothers were special. Of course they were living legends and saved your life but there was something else too.

Being with them was easy and felt good. So uncomplicated that it was ridiculous. The only way to describe it was that it felt like meeting your best friend, who you’d known since you were two.

And somewhere between giving up a normal life, living in isolation amongst a world too full to ever truly be alone and suddenly meeting Sam and Dean Winchester, you found yourself in a bed. A bed that was your own, in a room that belonged to you as well, inside a bunker you called home. Another thing you thought you never have again, a home.

You should be grateful, you knew that. And you were, you thanked who or whatever was responsible for all these great things. Giving you a family of an Ex-Demon, Ex-Law Student and an Angel.  Giving you a good place to permanently live in. Giving you a family and a home.

But you couldn’t help what was happening. The feeling of losing balance as the floor crumbled beneath your feet. In realizing this, the slow tears started to fall. A spring somewhere deep in the woods, a silent and steady stream carving the features of your face like water once did with the Grand Canyon.

There would be no sleep tonight.

But you already knew that too.

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Something Undefined

Originally posted by faramaiofnerdwoodforest

Summary: I noticed there was at least a day or two between confronting Dagon and the end of 12x17, which meant that Eileen stayed at least one night in the bunker. I’m thanking the writers for this perfect opportunity. It’s like they left that time open just for us Saileen shippers! So here’s what they did before she headed home. 

Characters/Relationships: Sam x Eileen Leahy, Dean

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

Eileen didn’t want to leave the bunker, at least not right away. It was underground, hidden in rural Kansas, warded and protected, and it had Sam. Sam with the bright eyes and dimples, the soft hair and skin, the warm, broad chest and toned muscles, the man who exuded safety and peace, which was exactly what Eileen needed. Accidentally killing Renny had shaken her. She’d never killed a human before.

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Written on Skin

Originally posted by sarcastilecki

Summary: Everyone is born with the first words their soulmate will say to them tattooed on their wrist. 

A/N: This is also my (late) Christmas present for @quiddy-writes. (I hope you like it Katie. 

Sorry for almost killing you.

When Y/N was born, those were the words printed on her wrist. That sentence is what the universe said would be the first words her soulmate ever says to her. Her parents, of course, were more than a little concerned.

Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to find out who this person is (possible danger aside). The whole idea of soulmates was always fascinating, and she longed to find hers.


What the hell is going on?

Sam slightly resented the words printed on his wrist. Though undeniably unique, he never heard the end of it from his brother Dean.

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Once Upon A Dream

Pairing: Castiel x Reader
Word count: 1,883 (Before lyrics)
Warnings: Fluff
Challenge:  This was written for @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious​ and her 750 Followers Disney Song Challenge. My song was “Once Upon A Dream” from Sleeping Beauty.

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Through time and space (part 3)

Part one, part two

→ → → → → → → → → → → → → → → → ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ←
“Right then, Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester, you tell me. Where do you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time. It’s your choice. What’s it going to be?” The Doctor says with a cocky smirk.

“Forwards.” Both you and Rose reply. The Doctor then asks how far forward and Rose goes with 100 years.

“Come on Rose, be a little more adventurous.” You tease. “I say a thousand years into the future.” The Doctor takes you 10,000 years in the future just to show off. You and Rose aren’t buying it.

“Right then, you asked for it. I know exactly where to go. Hold on!” The Doctor says messing with a few controls. When outside of the TARDIS you notice that you’re not on earth- but above it. A small smile forms on your face. “You lot, you spend all your time thinking about dying, like you’re going to get killed by eggs or beef or global warming or asteroids. But you never take time to imagine the impossible, that maybe you survive. This is the year five point five slash apple slash twenty six. Five billion years in your future, and this is the day…” The Doctor checks his watch as the sun flares and turns red. “This is the day the Sun expands. Welcome to the end of the world.”

“No way.” You say trying really hard not to sound shocked. The Doctor laughs and tells the two of you that the three of you should make way to wherever the other guests are.

On the way there, the Doctor gives you some details about what is going on at the moment. The steward stops the three of you, he’s suspicious- also blue. “But how did you get in? This is a maximum hospitality zone. The guests have disembarked. They’re on their way any second now.” The steward points out. The doctor pulls out a piece of blank paper and shows it to the steward.

“That’s me. I’m a guest. Look, I’ve got an invitation. Look. There, you see? It’s fine, you see? The Doctor plus two. I’m the Doctor, this is Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester. They’re my plus one and two. Is that all right?”

“Well, obviously. Apologies, et cetera. If you’re on board, we’d better start. Enjoy.”

“What was that?” You ask in a soft tone of voice.

“The paper’s slightly psychic. It shows them whatever I want them to see. Saves a lot of time.” The Doctor answers.

“That’s one of the most ingenious things I’ve heard of.”

“We have in attendance the Doctor, Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester. Thank you. All staff to their positions.” The steward says interrupting the conversation between you and the time lord. The staff quickly gets into position. “Hurry, now, thank you. Quick as we can. Come along, come along. And now, might I introduce the next honoured guest? Representing the Forest of Cheam, we have trees, namely, Jabe, Lute and Coffa.” You weren’t expecting actual walking and talking trees, you’re a little surprised to say in the least.

The steward then announces the other guests, which you tune out because you’re thinking about Sam and Katie, and how much they would enjoy this. You pull yourself out of your thoughts before you go in to deep. “The Gift of Peace. I bring you a cutting of my Grandfather.” One of the trees say. She offers the three of you a potted twig. The Doctor pats his pockets looking for a gift, he can’t find one.

“Thank you. Yes, gifts. Er, I give you in return air from my lungs.” He says before gently breathing on them. He does this for all the guests, guess it works as a gift… the steward then introduces the last guest: the last Human. The Lady Cassandra O'Brien Dot Delta Seventeen.

“That is a mouthful.” You whisper in Rose’s ear. She smiles in response. Now you and Rose were expecting an actual human with limbs and things like that, not a trampoline of skin with a face on it.

“Oh, now, don’t stare. I know, I know it’s shocking, isn’t it? I’ve had my chin completely taken away and look at the difference. Look how thin I am. Thin and dainty. I don’t look a day over two thousand. Moisturise me. Moisturise me.” Cassandra says to everyone else before talking to her attendants. One of them sprays some form of liquid on her. “Truly, I am the last Human. My father was a Texan, my mother was from the Arctic Desert. They were born on the Earth and were the last to be buried in its soil. I have come to honour them and say goodbye. Oh, no tears, no tears. I’m sorry. But behold, I bring gifts. From Earth itself, the last remaining ostrich egg. Legend says it had a wingspan of fifty feet and blew fire from its nostrils. Or was that my third husband? Oh, no. Oh, don’t laugh. I’ll get laughter lines. And here, another rarity.” The other gift is a jukebox. “According to the archives, this was called an iPod. It stores classical music from humanity’s greatest composers. Play on!” You have to hold back your laughter when the trampoline woman calls a jukebox an iPod- there is a huge difference between the two.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
You and Rose walk the ship together, but the two of you are unsure if you’re allowed where you happen to be. “Sorry. Are we allowed to be in here?” Rose asks the woman in overalls and a baseball cap.

“You have to give us permission to talk.” She answers. Rose looks a bit uncomfortable as well as confused.

“Er, you have permission.” The woman in overalls smiles ever so slightly.

“Thank you. And, no, you’re not in the way. Guests are allowed anywhere.”

“Okay.” Rose still looks uncertain about what is going on.

“What’s your name anyways?” You ask.

“Ruffalo.” The woman you’re guessing is some sort of maintenance answers.

“That’s an interesting name.” Ruffalo looks a little embarrassed. You then smile. “Its also fun to say. Ruffalo.”

“I won’t be long, I’ve just got to carry out some maintenance. There’s a tiny little glitch in the Face of Boe’s suite. There must be something blocking the system. He’s not getting any hot water.”

“You’re a plumber?” Rose asks in response.

“That’s right, miss.”

“They still have plumbers?”

“I hope so, else I’m out of a job.” Ruffalo says with a slight smile. You, Rose and Ruffalo talk for a little bit. You and Rose allow Ruffalo to go back to what she was originally doing.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
The Doctor does something to Rose’s and your phones, now they can call or text from anywhere in time or space. Rose calls her mom to test it. You on the other hand send a text to Sherlock and John. “If you think that is amazing you should see the bill.” The Doctor says with a smile. You chuckle in response. Suddenly the ship shakes like an earthquake is happening. “That shouldn’t happen.”

“What was that?” You ask.

“Whatever it was it wasn’t a gravity pocket.” The Doctor then talks to the tree woman and she calls you and Rose the Doctor’s wives amongst a few other things that is a little awkward.

You and Rose walk towards Cassandra, only you veer left towards the jukebox. You then start messing with it seeing what songs are on that thing, you find songs you know and somehow get the jukebox working- you had to kind of hot wire it and insert a coin for it to work. Yellow Submarine by the Beatles starts to play. “I haven’t heard this song in many millennium.” The Face of Boe says startling you.

“Face of Boe, you frightened me.” You reply.

“Apologies Y/N.” The way how he talks is as if he knows you. You figure that he knew you five billion years ago if that was even possible. You and the Face of Boe talk for awhile, Rose throws you the occasional glance but doesn’t say anything. For the first time since she’s known you, your guard is down and you’re not looking over your shoulder every ten minutes. You sway in time to the music playing, occasionally singing along. Metaphorically speaking you’re letting your hair down just this once.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
Someone has planted robotic spiders on the ship to sabotage the systems and pretty much kill everyone, and the person responsible for the sabotages is Lady Cassandra. “I bet you were the school swot and never got kissed. At arms!” Cassandra commands. Her attendants raise their guns.

“What are you going to do, moisturise me?” The Doctor asks with an incredible amount of sass in his voice. You hide a smile behind your hand. You were going to say something to Rose about it but she’s nowhere to be found currently.

“With acid. Oh, you’re too late, anyway. My spiders have control of the mainframe. Oh, you all carried them as gifts, tax free, past every code wall. I’m not just as pretty face.” You make a mental note to never trust a talking trampoline.

“Sabotaging a ship while you’re still inside it? How stupid is that?”  

“I’d hoped to manufacture a hostage situation with myself as one of the victims. The compensation would have been enormous.”

“Five billion years and it still comes down to money.”

“Do you think it’s cheap, looking like this? Flatness costs a fortune. I am the last human, Doctor. Me. Not that freaky little kid of yours.”

“Hate to ask this but who are you referring to as the freaky kid? Me or Rose- both of us came with the Doctor.” You point out. Cassandra makes no comment in response.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
After everything it’s just you, Rose and the Doctor once again. The Doctor takes you and Rose back to your original time, and he tells the two of you that he is the last of his kind. His planet was destroyed in a war. The two of you tell him that he has the two of you.

Rose and the Doctor goes one way to get chips. You on the other hand returned to Baker street. You had enough adventures for one day. You head up the stairs. “There you are Y/N I was wondering where you disappeared to.” John says with a smile.

“Are you going to tell us what you were going to say before you left?” Sherlock asks setting down his violin.

“Right I mentioned that. Where do you want me to start?”

“Preferably from the beginning.”

‘Fair, you better not tune me out or tell anyone. If you do I might shoot you.“
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
Your mom was a hunter and she did a lot of hunting with your dad, but she never told him that she made a deal with a demon and her time was almost up. When you were born your mom only had three years and a half years left.

“John I need you to come get Y/N.” Your mom said into the phone one day. You didn’t hear what your dad said in response. “I see… please hurry though.”

“Mommy, what’s going on?” You asked looking at your mother with large innocent eyes. Your mom didn’t have the heart to tell you that she was about to get ripped apart by a hellhound.

“Nothing sweetheart, but will you do me a favor… I want you to clean up your room a bit.” You nod slightly as your mom tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Whatever happens, just know I love you and I’ll always think about you.” You didn’t understand that your mom was saying her goodbyes to you, you thought that she was meaning something else.

You pick up your toys and things like that you come out of your room to tell your mom you were done- instead you find blood everywhere and your mother’s body torn to shreds.

You were alone for three long hours, scared out of your wits. “(Mom’s name)? Y/N?” Your dad asks when he gets there and inside. Katie was the one that found you, trembling as well as crying your eyes out. Because your tears clouded up your vision you didn’t recognize your sister, if anything she scared you more than you already were.

“(Nickname), it’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.” Katie said trying to comfort you, without a lot of success. The boys had a little more experience comforting a scared toddler under their belts, Dean especially. She got up and walked away from you towards Dean. “Hey Dean, need your help… I think I accidentally made Y/N more scared then she originally was.” Katie then lead Dean to where you were. You had calmed down enough that you could at least see.

“Katie, how about you go help Dad and Sammy. I’ll get Y/N.” Dean said. Katie nodded and then took her leave. “Baby bug… you can come out now.” Your brother said coaxingly. You gave no form of verbal response, mainly because you had your thumb in you mouth. You did however shuffle forward a little bit. Eventually Dean gets you to come out of your hiding spot. He then picked you up and set you on his hip before carrying you to your room. He sets you down and takes off the backpack he was wearing and tells you to grab some of your favorite things and put them in the bag. Instead you grabbed a different bag that looked pretty heavy for a toddler and held it out to Dean. “That isn’t what I asked you to do.” Your brother says slightly annoyed as well as confused. In an almost inaudible voice you told your brother that your mom already put a bag together for you, you just needed to grab your stuffed animal friend and your blanket. “Grab them for me?” You nodded and grabbed your stuffed animal, your pillow and your blanket off your bed.

On the way out to the car you fell asleep against Dean’s shoulder clutching your stuffed animal friend to your chest. Your pillow and blanket are safely stowed in the backpack. “Got everything?” Your dad asked.

“(Mom’s name) had already packed most of Y/N’s things… as if she knew that this would happen.” Dean explained.

“She probably did… I mean she was a hunter after all.”
-End of flashback-
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
“Six years later I first learned how to use a gun, and how to do stitches.” You say coming to an end of your explanation. “Started actually hunting when I was about eleven or twelve years old… I left hunting and came here after a bad argument with my dad, and I think you know the rest.”

“That explains why you were worried about Rose. You thought the doctor was a shape shifter.” Sherlock points out.


“What happened to your mother’s body?”

“Dad and my brothers gave my mom a hunter’s funeral, so basically she was cremated.” Surprisingly it isn’t Sherlock that tries to tell you the supernatural doesn’t exist- it’s John.

“There’s no way in hell, that can be true.” John states folding his arms.

“Believe what you will, but I am telling the truth. Humans aren’t the only monsters in this world.” You answer rather calmly. “Now if you excuse me I have to go explain to my sister why I sent her a picture of a bitchy trampoline.”

“A what now?”

“You heard me just fine John, I don’t need to say it again.”

“I’m wondering what you mean by bitchy trampoline.” John clarifies. You pull out your phone and look through your pictures and find the picture of Lady Cassandra that you took. And hand your phone to John.

“That’s what I mean by bitchy trampoline… she’s one of the people I met on my most recent adventure with Rose and the Doctor.” John accidentally scrolls to the next picture: the Doctor throwing you an ‘are you kidding me’ look. “That’s the Doctor. I made him look at me when I took that hence the ‘are you kidding me’ look.” You then take your phone back and walk to your room about to troll your brother and sister.

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Kink #16 - Thank God for Dean Winchester and His Meddling

Word count: Almost 5000 dear God what am I doing with my life

Character: Gadreel

Warnings: Possible dub!con, dry sex (humping) and I think that’s about it?

A/N: I wrote this in like 3 hours today so I’m literally so exhausted right now c; requests are still open for the kink challenge and generally! I’m going to start work on the requests tomorrow! :)

Also, slight AU as this is set in a universe where Gadreel didn’t go with Metatron and became human instead! Most is just smut anyway so it’s not really anything to be concerned about cx

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Teen!TFW + Flowers (Preference)


Originally posted by wellcometothedarkside

From the moment in Freshmen year you heard Sam talk about the Easter Lilies in the school’s traditional spring ‘shrine’, as you called it, you kept it in the back of your mind for a day when you might need it. Maybe giving men flowers hadn’t been a conventional idea yet, but you thought the idea of someone not getting to enjoy something beautiful because of what’s between their legs was absurd, and remembered to never forget Sam and lilies.

Sure enough, you got a phone call from his mother one day saying that John had been in a fatal car crash, and that’s the reason Sam hadn’t been returning your many calls, you headed over to the closest department store and then to his house.

You hugged a crying and red-eyed Mary before asking to go upstairs, and weren’t surprised when your friend didn’t react to you opening the door.

Instead of saying anything, you walked over to the side of his bed, set the bouquet of flowers you had purchased on the space in front of him, before laying down beside him and pressed against his back in a backwards hug.

“You should have left those downstairs,” Sam’s voice was thick with tears and emotions alike, but didn’t pull away from your arms lacing on his sides.

“They’re for you,” Where the only words needed, kissing the base of his neck and staying there for as long as he needed.


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Words: 4,078
Sam x Reader
Warnings: frightening scenarios, blood, disturbing imagery
Fic based on ‘Mess Is Mine’ by Vance Joy originally requested by anonymous!
A/N: Ohhhhhhhh boy… We’re really in it now. Prepared for CREEPINESS and ANGST. And Crowley. AND STUFF IS HAPPENING! And other stuff too. You’ll like it… I promise. I hope. ;)
This is part of a series! Read the other parts here! 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Your name: submit What is this?


As soon as Dean and Cas came in through the bunker door Sam was yelling for them from the library.

”Dean! Dean!!” His voice was desperate and Dean and Cas both dropped the grocery bags in their arms and banged down the stairs as fast as they could.

”Sammy?” Dean whipped into the library, Cas on his heels. He saw Sam kneeling beside your prone body on the couch. There was a strange expression on your face. Sam had one of your hands in his and was clasping your face with the other.

”Y/N?” he called desperately to you. “Y/N? Come on, Y/N! Snap out of it! Y/N?”

Your eyes were wide open but it was obvious that they were unseeing. You didn’t seem to be conscious of anything that was happening around you. Your eyes moved as if they were focusing on things unseen.

Sam’s face was contorted with fear and tears were welling in his eyes. “Y/N!” He looked at Cas in desperation. “What’s happening? Cas…”

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Blind Eyes (destiel au)

Dean didn’t really notice the small, nerdy, quiet guy in half of his classes until he accidently ran into him on the way out of class. Opening his mouth to yell at him for not looking where he was going, he focussed on the other boys eyes, they weren’t focussing on him. He squinted at the boy who had begun to splutter apologies, “S-sorry, I couldn’t see you,” even still the boy wouldn’t look directly at him, only in his general direction.

Just as he was about to demand the boy look at him he noticed the white cane in his hand, it took a moment but it finally clicked- the boy was blind. “No, no, it’s my fault,” Dean reassured, subconciously looking the other up and down in a quick check for any injury he may have caused.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” he introduced himself after a brief moment of awkard silence. The other boy smiled slightly, “Castiel,” the other offered his name in return. Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked at Castiel who was standing rigidly and he suppossed that was so he didn’t bang into anything.

“I could walk you home,” Dean spoke, he already felt bad for running into a blind kid and it wouldn’t be any trouble. “That is, if you want to,” he added, stuttering, “If you don’t already have a lift.”

Castiel smiled, “Thank you, Dean, I would much appreciate it,” he accepted gratefully. Balthazar, his friend who he usually walked with, was not in today. Reaching out awkwardly and fumbling he managed to grab hold of Dean’s forearm and brought his hand to his elbow.

To say Dean was startled was an understatement but he quickly understood that his hand on Cas’ elbow was for guiding. Thankfully, they were on the ground floor so there weren’t any problems with stairs. “So where do you live, Cas?”

“Garrison street,” came the reply, Cas had a deep voice for someone his age and it sent shivers up Dean’s spine. Of course Dean had to admit that Cas was quite attractive and he found his gaze drifting to Cas much more than he should considering Cas couldn’t even see his lingering looks.

“Wait, Garrison street?” Dean asked suddenly, “I only live a few streets away, how come I’ve never seen you around?” He was out most of the time and knew loads of people in the area due to his job at Bobby’s garage, he was surprised he had never even seen Cas if he lived so near.

Cas shrugged, “I don’t really go out all that much. It’s pretty pointless if I can’t see it,” there was a lack of the sadness in his voice that Dean would’ve have expected. Dean had always assumed that if you were blind you would give anything to see again.

“How long have you been blind?” Dean asked before he could stop himself. God, how rude can I get, he thought and screwed his eyes up in annoyance at himself. “You know you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

Once again, Cas shrugged, “It’s fine. Most of my life, I lost my sight in a car crash when I was three years old, I dont remember anything from before then so I just live with it. I dont know what I’m missing out on, therefore I cannot find room to care.”

Dean was stunned for a moment before chuckling, “Guess that’s a pretty good view to have about it,” this caused an upturn of Cas’ lips.

Cas was glad that Dean understood him, most of his family were annoyed that he didn’t mind. As if it personally offended them. Although he knew it was probably because they didn’t want him to have to accept a more difficult life.

“Which number?” Dean asked when they reached Cas’ street, hiding the disappointment in his voice that he would have to leave. Cas’ street was long, wide and had trees lining the path, overall it looked much more welcoming and homey than his own road only a few streets away.

“4.” Dean walked Cas down to his house, then up to his front door. Just in case anything happened. “Thank you, Dean,” Castiel thanked him sincerely and knocked three times on the door, “I appreciate you walking me.”

Dean shrugged then remembered Cas could not see him, “No problem, anytime.” It was true, he would walk Cas home anytime he asked, he’d had a surprising amount of fun.

The door was opened by a short guy with blond hair, “Who’s this?” the man asked obnoxiously. Cas rolled his eyes at his presummed brother, “Hello, Gabe,” he turned to look in the direction of Gabe, then back to Dean. “Good bye, Dean,” he smiled at Dean (well, his direction) then stepped into his house.


It became a regular occurance for Dean to walk Cas home, the only days he couldn’t were when he had football practice or when he had to drive Sam. They talked about anything and everything and over the next few months became quite inseperable.

Dean and Balthazar often clashed with each other, both mildly possessive and wanting to be the one to help Cas with things. Though he felt like their respective relationships with Cas were fairly different, but he didn’t know in which way.

Dean and Cas were sitting cross-legged across from one another on Cas’ bed. “Remember when we first talked? Well, Ive been thinking, I wish I could see what you look like,” he sighed.

“I know what you sound like, how tall you are, but not anything else,” Cas elaborated sadly. Dean felt his heart rate raise, why would Cas wanna see him of all things?

Dean swallowed, “I could describe myself,” Cas eagerly nodded. It took a moment for him to think, where do you even begin when decribing yourself to somebody who couldn’t see and didn’t remember colour?

“Well, I have kinda short blond hair. Sand coloured,” Dean hoped Cas could understand colours by associating feelings and experiences and went on to describe himself. “And green eyes, my mom says they’re candy apple coloured, with some honey tone flecks in them.”

When he looked up Cas was staring intently as if soaking everything it. That was when Dean realised that even blind eyes could blaze like meteors. “Do you know what you look like?” Dean whispered to which Cas shook his head no.

“You have really dark hair, like dak chocolate. And the brightest blue eyes that look like a raging sea. And really…pink…lips,” Dean trailed of in whisper.

He was only an inch or so away from Cas’ face and their breaths mingled in the space between them. His hand came up and tenderly cupped Cas’ cheek, testingy he brushed their lips together and when Cas didn’t pull away he pressed their lips firmly together.

There were no fireworks, or grand explosions, but it felt right. Complete. Cas kissed back and their lips moved together in a soft harmony with everything else fading away. Cas’ senses were alight and every touch was amplified, the gentle brush of Dean’s tongue along his lip sent shivers through his body. The first brush of their tongues together had them both whimpering and Cas clawing at Dean’s shoulders bringing him ever closer.

They only pulled away when they had to, for air, and rested their foreheads together. “Wow,” Cas whispered, he had never been kissed before but he was sure that it was the best way it could have gone. Dean chuckled and agreement and interlocked their fingers, “We should do this more often.”

Thanks to those who have followed me already :) I am open to requests so just send me what you want and I’ll write it for you XD

Dance With Me?- Castiel

Across the table, Castiel had a slight frown on his face as he poured over yet another book of lore. I’d offered to trade and let him use the laptop for a while, but he’d declined. Technology and Cas still hadn’t meshed very well. I’d once caught him trying to yell orders at the computer, becoming incredibly frustrated and then confused when I couldn’t stop laughing. His utter cluelessness was at times the greatest source of amusement. Not to mention utterly adorable. There was a slight crease in his forehead, sitting as still as a statue aside from his eyes which swept from one side of the page to the other.

“Why are you watching me?” He suddenly muttered in his gruff voice, making me jump a little.

“Trying to figure out how the hell you read so fast. Is that a super power or something?” I asked, my cheeks flushing a little at having been caught staring. Luckily he had yet to look up from what he was doing.

Keep reading

Chocolate Sauce (Part One) - Gabriel

Summary:  When your left alone at the bunker Gabriel decides to play.

Word Count: 1211

Warnings: Hints of smut, some slightly strong language

Originally posted by lucifersagents

Part Two

You were bored and alone, waiting to hear from the boys, who would no doubt need help with research. You sighed and snapped your laptop shut, deciding to wonder to the bunker’s kitchen and see what food was there, you froze when a small brown Labrador puppy appeared on the end of her bed.

“Cas did you piss off a wizard again?” you asked carefully as you looked closer. You jumped when the puppy vanished and a figure moved behind you. The nearest weapon to you was an angel blade, Dean and Cas had been helping you train with it, and span to stab at the person behind you.

Keep reading

Deciphering the difference between a lust filled encounter and one that has a deeper meaning is difficult. Especially when one is used to keeping the two disconnected: sex and love. When you’ve learned how to have sex without associating a feeling with it, when you’ve learned that it’s just something to make you feel good, or to simply enjoy someone wanting you, it’s strange when someone comes along and looks at you like you’re all that matters.

Love is something shared between families and a few saps that are just a bit luckier than yourself. It’s something seen in all its glory on the big screen. An emotion you might not be capable of possessing past the love you feel for your family members. They’re called loved ones for a reason.

That big, earth shattering, life changing, heart clenching love? Dean Winchester has never felt that in his life. He’s never felt it to the point that he thinks he can’t. He’s told himself that for so long, every time he picks up a girl at the bar, or a guy; every time he tries to date someone to no avail. He’s told himself he loved, that he’s loved greatly, but he, in fact, hasn’t.

Castiel walks right into his life and the earth moves, the ground quakes, the lights shatter and sparks rain down. His heart beats faster whenever the angel is near. His palms sweat, it gets harder to swallow, to breathe.

Eventually Dean can’t picture his life without the dorky angel in it. He wants him to be there, to always have a clueless comment to add, to always be able to put in his millennia of military expertise, to watch Dean sleep (even though he’d never admit that he likes being protected in such a way that it reminds him of the promises his mother used to make.)

It’s important to Dean that Cas is around. That he is able to share in the things the Winchester’s do, even if it’s a slice of pie at a local diner, or a few beers and the night sky. Dean wants Cas there.

He can’t imagine his life without Castiel, and he begins to realize it’s because he would rather not have a life without him. He correlates that to familial feelings. Cas is like a brother to him, that’s why he loves him so goddamn much. He gets a tightness in his chest whenever Cas isn’t there. He feels it in his soul, the loss of his presence.

When Cas is gone for good, every time Dean thinks he’s dead or a lost cause, it breaks his heart. The tightness is gone and replaced with an ache, a yearning to see him. A wish that he was there, that he’d just accepted and played that goddamn game of Sorry with the angel once upon a time. That he’d been able to tell Cas how much he meant to him, to both of them. To their little, ever growing, ever changing family.

There’s a moment, after Sam has been saved from the men of letters, London chapter; after their mom has settled in to bunker life. After, just after everything feels safe and good and happy. For the first time in a long time, Dean is content, and he feels the need to make Cas content as well.

They head to the store, to grab some groceries. It’s a celebration, of what Dean isn’t exactly sure, but they’re going to enjoy themselves Chuck dammit.

They’re in the Impala, Dean and Castiel, because that’s how he had wanted it. He turned down offers for company from his brother and his mother and accepted the one from Cas specifically. It’d be just the two of them, Dean has something he needs to say.

“Hey, uh, Cas…” Good start, he looks at Cas who perks up a bit at the start of a talk, but doesn’t reply, he simply smiles in Deans direction. It’s a soft, close lipped things that encourages him to continue. The lump Dean has to swallow is new, he tells himself that he’s thirsty, “I, uh, I asked you to come with me to talk to you. I guess you can tell that now. It’s nothing bad, or anything like that. So don’t worry about that, it’s just that, um…” he stops, unsure of how he wants to continue.

What exactly is he trying to say?

“Dean?” Cas asks, it pulls Dean out of his mind and back into the moment, he’d been speaking hadn’t he? He should continue. To say… whatever it was he was trying to say.

“Sorry, uh, where was I? Oh, right. Nothing bad, just, I feel like we, er, I never really let you know how important you are, you know? Like you’re always kind of out of the loop, on the outskirts of our lives. That you might think that you’re just there-” it isn’t until he’s done it that Dean realizes he’s pulled over onto the side of the road in order to look at Cas fully. The angel is just about in a state of panic. His eyes are wide and Dean can see him lick his lips a few times from the nerves.

“But you’re not, yknow? Uh, you’re important. And you’re meaningful, your presence. I like it when you’re around, I prefer the bunker when you’re in it. It’s warmer, I guess. Just knowing that you’re somewhere, doing something, probably bingeing on a show, but still, you’re there. I can see you if I want. I like knowing that.”

His breath hitches at the sight of Castiel in front of him. His eyes have gone soft and the smile has returned and he’s fidgeting with his hands and looking down at them before he looks back at Dean once he realizes that he’s stopped talking.

Dean absentmindedly licks at his own lips, not really knowing what he wants to say next.

“Is that all?” Cas is searching for something in Dean’s face, probably reading his posture or his aura or something. Dean shakes his head, Cas tilts his.

“I just, I-um… wanted you to know that you’re loved. We all love you, Sam does, my mom has expressed it many times. And I know that I never do. That maybe I’m the one who makes you feel the least loved. But you are loved by us all, and by no one more than me, man.”

“I was under the assumption that my father loves me-” Cas cuts his own sentence off by laughing slightly, he drops his head, he’s grinning. He’s made a joke and Dean is shaking his head and laughing along, his shoulders bouncing with every breath out.

“You know it’s different, right?” The words come out of Dean’s mouth before he has the chance to decipher them, to understand what they mean, to comprehend what he’s saying, yet he persists, “the way Sam and my mom and Chuck love you… it’s uh, it’s not the same.”

Dean registers the small gasp from Cas and he acknowledges the distance between them, which has gotten somehow smaller; he understands when his hand reaches out to feel the stubble on the cheek of the angel. He knows why he’s doing it, he knows how this is happening. It’s like it’s dawned on him that this should have been happening all along. That every time there’s been a tense moment between them he’s yearned to reach out, to feel, to ease the tension with a simple flick of his wrist, a joining of… of… what does he want exactly?

Cas is reaching out as well, he’s returning the want, the need to feel something. He’s scooting across the seats, the short distance between them becomes even smaller as Cas drops his head to Deans shoulder and breathes in. The small amount of space between them feels right. It feels comfortable and so right. And Dean wishes that they’d done this sooner, that they’d realized personal space isn’t an issue between them.

“Cas-” Dean’s voice is thick with something, such a simple word, three letters, are laden with a deeper meaning.

Cas looks up, he looks at Dean, they’re so close, barely an inch of space between them. He knows what’s coming, can feel something like this a mile away. He knows what it’s like, the pull of attraction. The line between two people that’s so thick it’s impossible to sever.

He moves in, his tilts his head slightly, just slightly, and closes his eyes as he feels his lips press against the angels. He feels the chapped, and cracked lips of Castiel, he feels them move against his. Form against his. Press back. He breathes in, as you do when you kiss, through his nose. He pushes up so that their lips become slotted instead of just pressed together. He sucks slightly, deepening their chaste joining, but not going too far.

As far as first kisses go, it isn’t one for the record books, it isn’t one to be documented in a novel about amazing first kisses and dread pirates. But it’s one that’s filled with, something, with what? Dean is sure he doesn’t know.

Cas knows, however, when he whispers, “I love you, too, Dean.” Into the small space between them. Their kiss is only broken for the short amount of time it takes for him to say those few words that shift Dean’s brain so immensely that his brow furrows as he kisses the angel again.

He loves Castiel, he loves him deeply. He loves him in a way that he doesn’t love his family, but in a similar way at the same time. He loves him, he loves him, he loves him.

“I love you.” Dean says it, he says it softly, he says it into the kiss, he says it while grasping at the mess of black hair, and pushing his forehead against the angels, taking a moment to breathe before diving back in, wasting no time pushing his tongue past Castiel’s lips, tasting his angel for the first time, savoring the flavor, remembering, logging it for future reference.

He says it again long after they’ve stopped kissing. When they’re driving back from the store, their hands joined naturally between them on the seat of the impala. Dean glances down at them and his stomach leaps and his heart races and his earth shatters and reforms around the angel beside him. How had he not seen it? How could he have never known?

He’d never loved before he loved Castiel. He knew that now, and now that he knew, now that he’d said it, he’d never stop saying it. Life was short, time was fleeting, and he would never be afraid to love Cas with all of him for as long as he had left. He looked at Cas, Cas looked at him. They shared a smile, a squeeze of the hand.

They went into the bunker and told Sam and Mary; the two simply high five’d and Dean watched, rolling his eyes dramatically, as Sam passed a hundred dollar bill his mom’s way.

They knew, they’d known, they’d always known. Cas knew, and now so does Dean.

—–in honor of my birthday, I wrote a Drabble. Because I have problems. I hope you enjoyed it!! :)

Once More With The Winchesters- Part 1

Request by anon: “ Oneshot request (if you’re taking them): Sam and Dean investigate a town where people are randomly singing and dancing in spontaneous musical numbers, and discover…”

Fandoms: Supernatural and Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Slight language, brief gore (decapitation), and really nothing much

A/N: I know this was a one shot request, but I kinda went all out and loved it too much to cut somethings out. I also know that it wasn’t requested as a cross over, but come on, this is too good not to. If you haven’t watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you might not find this as entertaining as if you have, but I believe everyone can get a laugh at the brothers. Don’t know when the next chapter will be out (or how many chapters there will be), but tell me if you’d like to be tagged. Love you all XOXO

The music in here does not belong to me.

(not my gifs)

This had been an interesting case for Sam; people randomly combusting, no witnesses. It was almost like a horror story, but it got even worse. Sam was on his laptop, Dean in the shower, when he started to hear a deep voice humming a cheerful tone as it echoed through what used to be the dead silent motel room.

Sam was sure it must have been his brother, since it seemed to be coming from the bathroom, but Dean never sang anything but rock, and never in the shower.

With curiosity, and a little worry, Sam walked over and put his ear against the door to listen. That’s when he heard everything, his brother’s gravelly, non musical, voice singing.

“Every single night, the same arrangement,

I go out and hunt the hunt.

Still I always feel this strange estrangement,

Nothing here is real, nothing here is right.

I’ve been making shows of trading blows

Just hoping no one knows

That I’ve been go - ing through the motions,

Walking though the part,

Nothing seems to penetrate my - heart.

Sam stepped back with wide eyes. Was Dean… singing a showtune? And with Sam around? But he didn’t stop there.                

I was always brave and kind of righteous,

Now I find I’m wa - vering.”

As Dean hit the high note, almost breaking all glass cruelly, Sam decided that was enough weirdness for him to add to all the craziness for right now.

“Dean!” Sam banged at the bathroom door. “I can hear you!”

Dean’s singing stopped almost instantly, as did any movement inside the bathroom. Sam could only hear the water hitting his now frozen brother. Shaking his head, Sam walked back to his laptop.

In less than a minute, Dean came stumbling out of the shower, still dripping wet and a terrified expression embedded on his face. “Sam,” he said weakly.

“Who sings that, Dean?” Sam asked, his eyes on his laptop. It was open to some possession lore. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.”

“Sam,” Dean repeated. “Was I singing…?”

Sam looked up curiously at his brother. “Yeah, dude; you were,” he said mockingly.

“I’ve never heard that song before either, Sam,” Dean pointed out. “I think I made it up.”

“Probably just some commercial or somethin’ else that got stuck in your head.” Sam clicked a few times on a link. “I don’t think you ‘made it’.”

“No, Sam.” Dean waited a little, as if wondering how to say something. “I wasn’t in control. I was singing, but I wasn’t in control.”

“Sure, dude,” Sam passed it by. “Just get dressed and in your fed suit, I think I have a possible witness.”

Dean cautiously walked back to the bathroom and Sam continued at the lore.

The brothers spent all day chasing down the witness, and she ended up having nothing of value- as usual. Not only that, but while Sam and Dean were chasing their tails, another person died. Sam now stared frustrated at an old book.

“Maybe Charlie could help us,” said Sam.

Dean placed a beer by his brother and took a slip of his own, sitting down across from Sam. “What would she do? We’ve got far more than her and we still can’t figure this crap out.”

They had narrowed it down to a few ideas- nothing even remotely solid- until Sam disproved every one of them. All but one.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, throwing himself back in the chair and running his hands through his hair. “What if it’s a witch? That would make-”

“It’s not a witch, Sammy. A witch can’t control an entire town-”

“But what if-”

“It’s not.” Dean drank some of his beer and Sam lowered his hands. “You’re just trying to find somethin’ to place blame. No, Sam, Sunnydale has something bigger going on.” Sam shook his head and went back to work. “Anyway, you need a break. Your stress is starting to radiate. Your turn to go get food, I pay.” Dean placed twenty bucks on Sam’s keyboard and walked off to the bed. Sam grabbed the money and just before he left, Dean add, “And don’t forget the pie!”

“I won’t, Dean,” Sam sighed, closing the door.

Sam drove around the Biggerson’s parking lot several times, but couldn’t find any parking spaces other than in from of a hydrant. He knew it was illegal, but Sam also knew he wouldn’t be long.

Sam pulled the Impala up and jumped out, hurrying into the restaurant but never taking his eyes off Dean’s car. His brother would kill him if anything happened to her.

Just as the waitress gave Sam his food, he saw a policeman standing over the Impala, writing a ticket. Sam rushed out the door, and into a light song.

“I’ve been having a bad bad day,

Come on, won’t you put that pad away?

I’m asking you please, no!

It isn’t right, it isn’t fair!

There was no parking anywhere!

I think that hydrant wasn’t there!

Why can’t you let it go?

I think I’ve paid more than my share.

Hey I’m not wearing-”

The officer slammed the ticket on Baby’s hood, then walked away, leaving Sam by himself and absolutely terrified. Was… Sam singing too now? He would have given it more thought, but he heard trashing and a gasp between the restaurant and an abandoned music shop.

He rushed to the alley to see a young, blond girl being pinned up to the wall, her feet off the ground, by a tall man. As Sam gently threw down the food and began to hurry forward, the man revealed sharp fangs and lowered himself to the girl’s neck.

A vampire.

Sam looked around the littered with trash to find something- anything- he could use to take off the head. In the spur of the moment, Sam grabbed a loose wire and rushed to the woman’s aid, his shoes slapping against the wet concrete.

Sam ran and wrapped the wire around the vampire’s head. Crossing it and pulling with all his force, he took the head off with a small stutter. The woman dropped to her feet as the vamp turned to dust.

Sam tried to gather himself so he could calm the girl. But when he looked over to her, she was already calm, just brushing off the dust from her outfit. She was very pretty, but couldn’t have been much out of college.

She must be in shock, Sam thought. “I’m sorry, Ms. That was a… a-”

“Vampire,” she interrupted, her voice high and perky. She shook her head and combed through her hair once. “How did you know to take the head?”

“I’m a hunter,” he said. “Like you…?”

The girl looked Sam up and down with a disbelieving look on her face. “Yeah, sure, buddy. I’ve never killed an animal in my life. Well… depends what you consider an animal… Werewolf count?” Sam gave her a half crooked look. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. She raised her eyebrows and voice. “Who are you?”

“I’m Sam Winchester, a hunter. And you are?”

“Name’s Buffy,” she said. “Vampire Slayer and late for curfew.” She slipped out of her heels and put on some normal running shoes, looking completely out of place with her tight, black dress. “I’ve got to go. You, try not to die.”

She started to jog off before Sam added, “You’re welcome.”

He assumed she didn’t hear him, but just before she turned the corner, she called back, “Didn’t need it.”


“A ticket?” Dean interrogated. “The hell for?” He was standing outside over his Impala.

“Parking in front of a hydrant,” Sam answered, dejected.

Dean read the amount marked on the yellow paper. “Well, why the hell did you do that?”

“Dean,” Sam said, raising his voice and shrugging. “There was no parking anywhere-” Sam caught his tongue, looking near frightened.

“Dude, it’s a ticket; it’s fine.” Dean started walking to the motel. “I called Cas, thought we could use it. He’s inside.”

Sam followed him. “Dean, you remember this morning… when you sang?”

Dean shut the door behind Sam as they entered. “Tryin’ to forget, thank you. Why?”

Castiel walked out of the bathroom and looked at the brothers. “Dean, you sang?” He looked around. “About what?”

“Nothin’,” Dean answered. “What’s your point?” he asked Sam.

“Well, um…” Sam stuttered to figure out how to word his next sentence. “When the officer was writing the ticket-”

“No way,” Dean interrupted, tilting his head. “You… you didn’t.”

Sam bit his lip. “I did…”

Dean started cracking up, unable to hold his laughter at the thought of his brother singing. “Oh, dude… And you deserved it too!”

“Dean…,” Sam began frightened, “doesn’t this strike you as even a little bit strange?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Dean tried to think of a word better than ‘strange’ to describe it.

“Cas,” Sam called, “you ever hear of anything like this?”

Cas shook his head. “No, but…” And just like Sam and Dean before him, Cas’ deep voice went into a pleasant melody.

Cas: I’ve got a theory, that it’s a demon! A dancing demon? No something isn’t right there.

Dean: I’ve got a theory, some kid is dreaming, and we’re all stuck inside his wacky broadway nightmare.

Sam: I’ve got a theory we should work this out.

Sam, Dean, Cas: It’s getting eerie what’s this cheery singing all about?

Dean: It could be angels, some evil angels! Which is ridiculous ‘cause angels they were persecuted. Heaven good and love

humans and angelic power and I’ll be over here.

Sam: I’ve got a theory, it could be clowns!

Dean: I’ve got a theory-

Sam: Clowns aren’t just fun like every child supposes. They got them rubber feets and swollen red noses, and what’s with

all the balloons!? What do they need all the color for anyway!? Clowns, Clowns, it must be Clowns!! Or maybe witches…

Sam: I’ve got a theory we should work this fast

Sam, Cas: Because it clearly could get serious before it’s passed.

Dean: I’ve got a theory, it doesn’t matter. What can’t we face if we’re together? What’s in this place that we can’t

weather. Apocalypse? Well we stopped that. The same old trips, why should we care?

Dean, Sam, Cas: What can’t we do if we get in it. We’ll work it through within a minute. We have

to try, we’ll pay the price. It’s do or die.

Dean: Hey I’ve died- *starts counting fingers*

Dean, Sam, Cas: What can’t we face if we’re together.

Sam: What can’t we face?

Dean, Cas: What’s in this place that we can’t weather?

Sam: If we’re together

Dean, Sam, Cas: There’s nothing we can’t face

Sam: Except for clowns…

Everyone paused, the brothers holding their breath as Cas adjusted his body awkwardly.

Dean finally stuttered, “What the…”

“Yeah,” Sam added shackley.

Cas chimed in, “Is that what happened to the both of you?”

“Yeah,” the brothers admitted in sync.

Sam added, “Right before I ran into that girl.”

Dean went over to the table, looking through the bag of food before deciding he wasn’t hungry. “What girl, Sammy?”

“I don’t know.” Sam sat down at the table, Cas and Dean grabbing seats around it too. “She was being attacked by a vamp, but didn’t seem scared or anything. Hell, she was more calm than I was.”

“So, another hunter?” Dean asked.

Sam took a swig of beer. “I think so. But see, she called herself a, uh… Vampire Slayer.”

“Like Blade,” Dean pointed out with a slight smile. Sam shot him a glare and Dean rolled his eyes before continuing. “So what? You think we got some wanna be hunter here?”

“I don’t think so.” Sam sat up. “See, we’ve seen fans before, but she wasn’t like that. She seemed every bit of a hunter as we are.”

Cas chimed in, “Do you know who she is?”

Sam pulled up his laptop and opened in, clicking a few times before handing it to his brother. A police file of a young, blode girl was open. “Buffy Summers,” Sam said. “Says she burned down her own school.”

“Yeah, sounds like something a hunter would do.” Dean shrugged. “Say where she lives?”

“Yep. ‘1630 Revello Drive’,” he read. “I thought we’d pay Ms. Summers a visit.”

Dean gave the laptop back and said, “So do you think she has something to do with these deaths and… singing, or are you just chasing after a high school crush?”

“Involved or not, we could use the extra help.”

Dean shrugged again and took the last bit of his beer before looking around, lifting up bags and under the table.”Where is the pie?”


Sam knocked on the door, a little golden sigh hung that read, “Summers.”

A young girl answer, her hair long and brown, her body thin and weak-like. “Hello?” she asked the brothers, raising her eyebrows. “May I… help you?” Her voice was high and light, just like Buffy’s.

Dean nudged Sam. “This her?”

Sam shook his head then turned back to the girl. “Does Buffy live here?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Dawn!” The brothers heard calling from inside. “Who is it?”

She turned around to answer. “Two guys. They’re looking for you.”

Buffy ran down the stairs and moved Dawn out of the way, groaning when she saw Sam. “I don’t want any,” she said. “So go.”

Buffy began to push the door shut but Dean put his foot in between, calling out for her. “Hey, look, lady, we just want to ask you a couple questions.”

Buffy sighed, lowering her shoulders and opening the door. Looking at the brothers, she said, “Come in.” She gestured them in and lead them to the right into a large, nicely decorated living room.

Dean nudged his brother and whispered, “Sam, you didn’t tell me she was hot.”

“Dude, you’re old enough to be her father.”

Dean dropped his smirk and slapped Sam. “Shut up.”

When they were all in the living room, the brothers looking around, Buffy threw her hands up and to her side. “So, what can I do for Rapunzel over here?”

Sam huffed, but Dean answered. “We were wondering if you were a hunter?”

“You too?” she questioned. “Like I told your husband over here-”

“He’s my brother!” Dean interrupted.

“Whatever, doesn’t matter. I’m not a hunter,” she huffed. “But who are you?”

“I’m Dean,” he pointed to Sam, “and you already meet my brother, Sammy. We’re hunters, and you’re a-”


Dean took a candy from the jar on Buffy’s coffee table. “How do you know about vampires and how to kill ‘em.”

“A vampire slayer,” she corrected herself. “It’s kinda all in the name. I slay vampires, and other things.”

“And about those other things,” Sam added, “have you encountered any…” He struggled to find words, but Dean didn’t share that problem.

“Have people just been bursting out into song?”

Buffy froze, just like the brothers had before.

“You have?” Dean asked, “Haven’t you?”

She bit her lip. “How’d you know?”

Dean walked over and patted Buffy’s shoulder. Raising his eyebrows, he added, “Because that’s what we’re hunting.”


Imagine Sam giving you a massage because you are so stressed over the case you are both working at the moment. 

Pairing: Sam/Reader
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Utter PWP. Sex. Oral sex. Fingering. Language. 
A/N: I’ll see you guys in therapy. You win, Sam girls. Well played. As I told my favorite Sam girl, Kaylee, “I feel dirty. And not in a good way. I feel like I’m watching my brother from the closet.” To which she replied, “So, you feel like a dirty closet person?” “Yes. Yes I do.” 
I’ve never written Sam before, so I hope I did him justice, and I hope you guys enjoy this. Let me know. I love you all tons and bunches. 

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Supernatural One Shot

Title: Love 1

Summary: Imagine what being “one of the guys” might entail.

Word Count: 2,058

You were 24 years old the first time you’d laid eyes on the Winchesters and the first time you’d found a pair of hunters competent to keep up with the skillset your dad had taught you.  They were quick, they were smart, they had far more good than any other groups you’d come in contact with, so when they asked you to hunt with them you couldn’t help but say ‘yes.’

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It Was a Fishy Kinda Day

Based on the imagine : Imagine Sam and Dean finding out a witch turned you into a mermaid when they find you sitting unhappily in the bathtub

Original Imagine Link: :)

Warnings: Some swearing, Guns described, Like really vague details and description of killing a witch. 

Word Count: 1405

I don’t like fish. Let’s make that abundantly clear right away. No, scratch that. I hate fish. I abhor them. They’re horrible and stinky and disgusting to eat, much less look at. Their horrible slimy scales and disturbing gills creep me out. So you can understand my complete and utter horror and being transformed into a giant, gross, literal embodiment of the thing I hate most. Okay, well, maybe not most, but it is pretty damn close.

If you’ve just stepped into this miserable shit pile I call my life, you’re probably feeling a little confused, so let me backtrack a little… A little over a week ago I decided I was sick of my best friend and hunting partner, Dean Winchester, being a sexist little shit and not letting me take the lead on any cases, so I decided to grow a pair and take initiative. Because that always ends fabulously for me.

So anyway, I woke up in the middle of the night, raided the gun stash in the back of his Impala, and hotwired the first car I came across, which just so happened to be a POS Dodge, naturally. Of course, at the time I was so wrapped up in the exhilarating feeling of badassery that accompanied stealing a car and heading out to save the world (Okay, maybe more like save Great Barrington, Massachusetts, but still) that I didn’t even care.

That was, of course, until it broke down 20 miles from the town, and I had to hitchhike to the motel with a duffle bag full of guns and knives. Any sane person probably would have taken this as a sign and returned home, tail between legs. But not me, oh no, the mighty (Y/N) doesn’t shy away from a challenge… Or apparently the ‘douchebag’ label that comes with referring to yourself in the third person.

By this point I had ignored 27 missed calls from Winchester one and about fifty frowny-face emoji’s from Winchester two, and concluded that the bad guy was, in fact, a bad girl. And a witch. She had made her blip on the radar by killing off all of her vegan Bible group pals in very strange, positively un-vegan ways, and left plenty of little hex bags in her wake.

So there I am, hiding outside of this mountainside chalet, half admiring the view, and half scoping out this wannabe hipster Sabrina-the-Middle-Aged-Psycho, when I found myself dangling upside down with all of my weapons but one sliding out of their holsters and loudly onto the ground. Because of course she had boobie traps outside of her house. Of course.

Because I flat out refused to die at the hands of a kale eating Jesus freak, I flexed my shoulders back, let my gun drop into my palm from its spot tucked into my bra strap and pointed it at the approaching figure in one fluent motion. I smirked at her before flicking the safety off and lining up the little red dot with her heart. “God is dead, and those cookies you were eating have cow’s milk in them,” I shot off before I, well, before I let a shot off.

But not, of course, before she could throw her own little ball of magic at me and dropping me from the trap in a spectacular show of flailing limbs, curse words and shiny lights. At the time I had lain there for ten minutes, feeling over my whole body and wondering if I was going to turn into a wart covered troll, or be unable to tell anything but the truth for the month. I should have been so lucky.

On my way home I tested both of those theories, firstly by asking an ugly dude to ask me to ask him what my opinion of him was (I lied flawlessly, thank you very much) and checking in the mirror of the new (commandeered) vehicle I was driving. It was about one in the morning when I pulled into a dusty motel three hours from the bunker and proceeded to squall in delight at the sight of the huge spa bath sitting in the bathroom.

And that, ladies and gents, is how I came to be in this predicament. One moment, I was peacefully soaking away the aches and pains associated with being dropped on my head from a tree branch in a mountain by a freaking witches spell, and the next, I had a tail. And gills! Freaking Gills!  

So now, I face a difficult decision. To call for help and never live it down, or to drown myself. Ha, just kidding, I can’t drown myself because I have goddam gills.  I looked up at the sky and shut my eyes, time to try option one. “Dear Cas? Um, so I know I’ve never actually prayed to you before, and you’re probably kind of busy right now, but I sort of have an, uh, situation, and I really need your help. Like urgently. Please. And don’t tell Dean! Or Sam! Or- Oh for God’s sake please just get your ass here,” I hissed out, trying desperately to keep my emotions in check.

After five minutes of slimy awkwardness in the now much smaller space of the tub, I decided to head on over to option two. Garth. As the new Bobby, I was certain he’d be able to rustle some semblance of something up to help me out of this situation. Thankfully, he was answering. “Garth Vader here, what can I do ya for (Y/N)?” he asked, I considered asking why he was awake at 1:30 in the morning, but decided I probably didn’t want to know, instead, I spilled every event from the last two days in one garbled rush and deflated with a sigh at the end.

“Well,” he quipped, “It looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a-““-Don’t you dare Garth Fitzgerald! If you even think of saying ‘fishy situation’ right now, I will hurt you,” I hissed down the line, only to hear typical Garth giggles in return. “Aaalright Ariel, have it your way,” he said with an irritating amount of pep, “Let me just send the nearest hunters to your location, and I’ll hit the books and get back to you,” I considered telling him that if he called Dean or Sam I would personally rip out his intestines and wear them as a necklace, but he’d already hung up, so my bravado was cut short.

 Two and a half hours later I discovered that I probably should have called him back to deliver the warning. I was wallowing in my own filth and misery (literally), when I heard the lock being picked, and I picked my semi-automatic and pointed it at the bathroom door, just in time to catch none other than the Winchester brothers in the act of collapsing with laughter. Brilliant. Perfect. Bloody fucking awesome.

“Wow, Y/N,” Dean whistled, wiping an imaginary tear away from under his eye and straightening up from the ‘Holy-crap-I-can’t-breathe-I’m-laughing-so-hard’ position he had been standing in, and moving to kneel beside the bath and staring at your scaly, gross, pink tail. “You were right, you can handle things perfectly well on your own. Granted, of course, that whatever it is you’re trying to handle doesn’t require feet, or, you know, legs,” he snickered and Sam continued to gape in the doorway.

Instead of dignifying him with a response, I decided to be the bigger person. Ha, just kidding, I splashed the shit out of that son of a bitch with my tail. Which, naturally, began an all-out water fight war, that I (Again, of course) won.

The next three days were spent in a similar fashion, and in the end, it didn’t suck as badly as I had originally thought it would. I was a blur of me, my Metallica t-shirt, my tail, new bath tub water every three hours, Dean and Sam brining me food, jokes, and whatever TV show I demanded we watch.

Although, I can’t say I was terribly disappointed when Garth called with news on how to reverse the spell and make me a real girl again. We were headed out of the car park and towards the Impala when Dean turned to me with the ‘I’m about to make a terrible joke’ smirk on his face.

“So, who’s up for sushi?”

Supply Drop

Description: Harmless fluff! Reader drops in some supplies for Kevin whilst he’s holed up on the safehouse boat.
Words: 843
Warnings: I think a swear word may have slipped out…
Author’s Note: Kevin needs more love, okay? I just want to give the little prophet a hug. Glad we agree. Okay, sigh, moment over, I need to hit those physics books again… Saskia, over and out!

You climbed out of your car and got the bag out of the passenger side. Locking it behind you, you looked at the scribbled note from Dean again. You’d wanted to visit a few times and you’d kept in contact with Kevin over the phone, but in person was tricky with the amount of traveling you did.

The boat you were looking for didn’t take long to find, it was a metal ship, bigger than you had expected, moored quite close to where you’d parked. Hopping on board, you knocked on the door to Garth’s safehouse boat. It was surprisingly peaceful in the area, the main sound was simply the sheets clanging against masts and gentle ebbs of water lapping at the sides. You hoped Kevin was able to use at least a little bit of his time to relax in the fresh air rather than spending all of it cooped up.

Snapping back to the situation, you knocked on the door again. On getting no reply you rolled your eyes and walked in anyway. Kevin should have been expecting you, you text him and Garth yesterday to say you’d be coming in but the little guy had a lot on his mind at the moment.

“Kevin! Hello?” You said loudly. You were met with silence.

“Kevin?” You said a little quieter this time, putting down the bag of drinks and snacks as silently as possible in order to get a better look around the room. You couldn’t see any sign of him being sat at his normal desk in the middle of the room.

Suddenly, you sensed movement behind you, it took all you had to fight with yourself to not react. You left it a second or two, staining your ears before executing a well timed duck as something whistled through the air where your head had just been.

As you straightened up you felt a hand grip your arm from behind and twist it into a lock. You stifled for a second before your hunter’s instinct kicked in. Throwing your head back you met your attacker’s upper body with a loud thud, it wouldn’t hurt them much, but it was just enough to be able to get free. You lunged away and within a split second, you span around to face your assailant only to be met by a liquid straight in your eyes.

Scrubbing at your eyes, you tried to clear your vision, you looked up and focused on the figure in front of you.

“Wait. WAIT. Kevin! Hey, hey, it’s me!” You said, jumping back.

“Y/N? Shit! I-”

“Woah! It’s me Kevin, Jesus Christ! Put the frying pan down.” You said, mirroring the prophet’s wide eyed and outright alarmed look.

“Y/N? Crap. Right. I got a text. Yes. Yeah, of course. Um… One sec.” Kevin stuttered out, awkwardly putting it to one side.

“What the hell? How did you not hear it was me coming in? I knocked and shouted.”

“I… Um, I wasn’t concentrating, well, I was, but on the wrong thing. God, I’m sorry!” He groaned a little. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and let his shoulders slump back relaxed. It was only as you had a second to catch your breath that you took in how he looked.

“Kev, you look like you’ve been hit by a bus. Have you slept at all since Dean and Sam were here a few days back?“ You said after you had gotten your breath back.

“Um, maybe? Wait, er, yeah I got a couple of hours yesterday and, possibly another couple this morning sometime.”

“And there was me thinking you were the smart one! You can’t live off of energy drinks forever.” You smirked, moving towards the supplies you’d brought.

“Hm, I’m pretty sure I can!” He laughed.

You scoffed and emptied the bag of high sugar food and drinks onto the last bit of space on the table. Barely legible notes, symbols and scribbles littered the desk, you hoped that Kevin could understand them because you definitely couldn’t.

“How’s it going then?” You said.

“It’s taking a long time, it’s not like reading a library book.”

“I can see that.” You smiled, fiddling with a screwed up ball of paper. “How are you though, honestly?”

“I’m fine.” He said with a shrug.

“And you’ve clearly spent too long with the Winchesters if that’s your final answer.” You raised a knowing eyebrow.

Kevin gave you a guilty smile before cracking open one of the cans of drink from the pile and taking a sip.

“Okay, it’s rough, but I’ve got a job to do and they need my help. I’m not that stressed out, actually.”

“Uh huh. I can see that.”

“Aw come on, are you just here to pick on me or do you fancy a drink?” Kevin said, picking up another can and waving it in the air a little. You looked between him and the drink and couldn’t help but grin.

“Seeing as you twisted my arm, go on then!”