#sam winchester imagines

[supernaturalfreewill]

Dean and Cas had stepped out into the other room and were having some kind of intense discussion, leaving you alone with Sam in the library. You felt his eyes on you and when you turned to look, his expression was uneasy.

"Do you want me to tell you?" he asked suddenly.

"What?"

He sighed, the corners of his mouth turning downward in an anxious frown. "You've lost your memory, but you're not stupid. We're keeping you in the dark about something. Do you want me to tell you?"

You were puzzled. "...Why? Why would you do that if no one else will? I'm sure there's some reason for not telling me." But your heart was pounding and you were starting to feel a little sick. "So why tell me now?"

Sam looked troubled. "Because—because I think you deserve to know. And I—I care about you and what happens to you. I just... don't feel right keeping it from you anymore. I don't think it's fair and I don't think it's the right call."

You were suddenly fixated on something completely new and not whatever this mysterious, vague cloud was. "But you hardly know me," you said, peering at Sam curiously.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "That's just it actually..."

"What do you mean?" Footsteps were approaching behind you and you looked over your shoulder to see Dean and Cas on their way back into the library.

Sam didn't respond, but the unsettled look on his face stayed for the rest of the night.

A/N: Oooooh now I wanna write this as a whole ass fic ya'll OoOooOooOo!

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester drabbles #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #supernatural #spn drabbles

[stargazedwinchester]

Soft Sounds | Dean

Summary: Dean mocks you for listening to nature sounds/lo-fi music while you sleep.

Based off of this request here, thank you! <3

Word count: 996

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Sleeping with any sort of noise has always been so comforting for you, having to live with the loud sounds of the world, all of the trauma you've endeavoured keeps you awake at night, memories creeping back from the most horrific times in your life.

You bought yourself your own little white noise machine a week ago, it makes multiple different sounds, and your favourites are lo-fi music and rain/thunder sounds. It's not every night that you have to use this, though, but it really does help. Especially with sleeping alone, your brain loves to play tricks on you during your quietest hours.

Tonight, you turn on your machine, clicking the button on top to change which sound you'd prefer to hear tonight. Your door is slightly ajar, knowing that the brothers were in the kitchen sharing a couple of beers and catching up. You had already told them you're going to have an early night for once and try to catch up on a lot of sleep you've missed out on recently. Doing this could probably help your awful sleep schedule.

You change into your pyjamas, a t-shirt and shorts combo that you threw on from the night before. Trying to look good while you slept is never the first thought since you literally live with two men who couldn't give any less of a crap, also, you're not dating either of them. You climb into bed and throw the covers over you, moving your hair out of your face, and lay on your side. Scrolling through your phone, you try to focus on the sounds coming from your machine, and within minutes, you're knocked out.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

As Sam and Dean call it a night, Sam stays to watch a movie in the main room, whilst Dean makes his way down toward the bedrooms. He notices your bedroom door is still slightly open, and he assumes you're awake.

"Hey, Y/-" He pauses, seeing you're fast out with your phone screen lit up, the lights still on and some noise coming from a weird-looking radio. He frowns, not knowing what is going on. He very quietly makes his way into your bedroom, and locks your phone, placing it on your bedside table. He dims the lights as he pads on over to your radio. "What the Hell is this?" He asks himself, keeping his voice just above a whisper. He glances at the tiny screen that presents what's playing. "She sleeps to this?" He scoffs, and a small grin appears on his face. He looks back at you, huffing. "This is such a Y/N thing to have." He says, standing back up and glancing over at you. Why would she ever own something like this? He thought to himself. It's stupid.

Your positioning in bed makes Dean chuckle to himself. You quite literally take up the whole bed, sprawled out like a starfish. It's mostly funny to him because of how cute you look when you're completely conked out. Your hair in your face, your shirt slightly riding up your torso from the amount of times you've tried to get comfy. "Hold on, is that my shirt?" He laughs quietly, admiring how natural you are.

Dean usually goes for the typical blonde, blue-eyed type of girl. The ones that show that they know they're sexy, that they can get any man they desire, but you - you were different. You never gave a damn about how you looked. If someone liked you, you'd make sure they get every single side of you, every single flaw and weakness. Having Dean see you completely barefaced and look like you just collapsed on your bed was the least of your worries.

Dean's gaze hovers over you for another minute or so, he catches himself smiling, noticing how comfy you are. You shuffle, which scares him a little, panicking that you're going to wake up to him watching you sleep.

"Dean?"

"Y-yeah?" He whispers, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"What are you doing in here?" You groan, wiping your hair out of your face, barely opening your eyes. "I um, heard your little radio thing and... I got curious." He says, an awkward smile appearing on his full lips. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head. You hum quietly in agreement with what he said. Whether Dean understood or not, it didn't matter. "Are you staying?" You mumble, shuffling yourself to the side to make more room. You quietly pat the side of the bed, inviting Dean to join you.

His heart skipped a beat. Sharing a bed with the only girl who genuinely liked him for him? It's almost unbelievable.

"Are you sure? I can go back to my room-"

"Dean, just get in." You say, pulling the covers open for him. His eyes lit up and the smile on his face looked as if it had been slapped on. He takes off his flannel shirt revealing his dark grey t-shirt underneath, and also taking his jeans off down to his underwear. He gently sits down on your bed, ensuring there's still enough space for you. He keeps his space, though, not wanting to give any wrong ideas. "Why were you looking at my machine?" You say, and Dean grins. "It looks weird. Why do you sleep with it?"

"It's to help me sleep."

"It's to help me sleep," He mocks, shutting his eyes. "Just sleep in silence, it's not that hard." He adds, and you huff. "So funny." You grin, slowly moving closer toward him. "It's nice though, really nice..." He trails, his eyes are fully shut, and his body is relaxing. "Come here," He says, adjusting himself so he's lying slightly above you, and you move in to lay on his chest, your leg intertwined with his. He keeps his arm rested above his head, his other hand caressing your hair. "This is nice," He mumbles, almost instantly drifting to sleep.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagines #spn imagines #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #dean x reader

[uhohnotthisagain]

Requited Love

Summary: Sam discovers his love for you in a not so clean dream, he doesn't realise his actions following the realisation would effect you so much.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: slight mentions of sex, angst, pining, makeout.

My Masterlists

Sam woke up in a sweat, but this time it wasn’t a nightmare. He could still feel the way your hands felt on his skin. The way your lips felt pressed against his. The way you felt wrapped around his cock. 

Holy shit was he actually thinking about his best friend that way. He rubbed his hands over his face before he felt movement next to him. He looked over at you sleeping, sprawled out with hair all over the place. You usually slept together in the same bed when out on a hunt. 

He tried his best to climb out of bed quietly so as not to disturb you, hoping a cold shower would rid him of those insane thoughts. 

–

Later, you’re all sitting at a diner, eating dinner. As you take a bite of your burger, Sam can’t help but notice the way your lips move as you chew, oddly attracted to the way they slightly pout when you chew. He shakes his head, trying to focus on anything but you. 

–

You and Dean are in deep conversation about which Led Zeppelin song is the best, sitting on the couch in the motel room whilst Sam does some research on the hunt. It was a pretty easy hunt so not a lot of effort was needed. Sam gave himself the excuse to get distracted. 

He watched the way your hair would swing when you talked to Dean, dramatically moving your hands as you spoke to emphasise your point. His eyes travel down your body, taking note of the way his old college t-shirt looked on your body, paired with the tight-fitting leggings that donned your lower half. 

He caught himself just before he started to imagine what you would look like without the clothes on. 

–

It was just you and Sam in the motel room. Dean had gone to the local bar for a few drinks, both you and Sam opting to stay in for the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little down. You noticed a few days ago that Sam hadn’t been talking much. You didn’t take much notice until you realised he was still talking to Dean, but seemed to be avoiding you. You didn’t know what you had done, but you were starting to feel self-conscious about your actions, trying to think of what you could have done to upset him. 

Sam was still sitting at the table, hunched over his laptop. You were watching some random movie that was on TV, not watching it properly. Your mind was too occupied trying to think of ways to get Sam to forgive you.  

“Sam?” You called to him. He hummed in response. 

“Did I do something?” He turned to look at you. “What?”

“Did I do something to hurt you?” He stared at you like you had two heads. “Of course not. Why would you think that?” 

“Because in the last week, you’ve barely spoken ten words to me. If I’ve done something wrong please tell me. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me. You’re my best friend. I can’t not talk to you. I’m going crazy here.” You let out a frustrated breath after your short ramble. “I’m sorry for whatever it is I did. I’m sure it was unintentional and I won’t do it again.” Sam is looking down at his fidgeting hands, debating what to do next. “Listen, Y/N. You didn’t do anythi-” “Obviously I have! You haven’t spoken to me in a week. I’ve been putting up with Dean this entire time because you won’t talk to me. I don’t think I can handle this much longer.” Sam didn’t realise how much this was effecting you. He finally did when he noticed the tears streaming down your face. 

“Tell me what I can do to fix it.” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, it would come out in ugly sobs. 

Sam let himself debate his actions for one last second before making a decision. He took two long steps towards you before cupping your face in his hands, smashing his lips to yours. 

It took a second for you to respond, and Sam was about to pull away before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You stayed like that until you had to pull away for air. “What was that?” You whispered. 

“I realised a week ago that I was in love with you. And I didn’t know what to do. I guess keeping my distance was the wrong way to go.” Sam whispered back. “Yeah, it was.” You respond, pulling him back down for another kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, tapping your hip to signal for you to jump. He instantly catches you, and carries you towards the couch, sitting down with you straddling him. 

“Ew, what the fuck guys. A heads up would’ve been nice.” You hear from behind you. You turn to see Dean standing at the door, hand over his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sleeping in the Impala tonight.” He turns around and walks out without another word. 

“Should we go get him?” You ask Sam, not moving to get off of his lap. “Maybe in a few hours,” He responds, pulling you back in for another kiss. 

#sam winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #winchester #sam winchester imagines #spn

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut. 

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #sam x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean x reader x sam #sam wesson #dean smith #supernatural fanfiction

[writings-of-a-demigod]

“Are you planning to get up anytime soon?” Dean hovering over your bed while you still laid there.

“Nope” you turned the other way facing the wall.  

“Sounds fine by me just don’t come complaining that you’re bored in the middle of the night while I’m sleeping.” He told you while making his way to the door.

“I won’t” you replied in a small voice fill with sleep.

It was a slow day for you, so you thought you will get enough sleep then make breakfast and just lay around the bunker relaxing. You don’t get a lot of slow days anymore, so you want this to last as long as you could.

After getting an everything shower, you went to make breakfast for yourself when you saw that Dean already made you breakfast and covered. With a cute little note on top “enjoy your pancakes baby” with a smiley face. Which put a smile on your face, he’s so sweet that’s why he’s your favorite not that you could tell him or Sam that. Even though he tells Sam that all the time.

“I’m telling you Sammy I’m her favorite.” Dean said with a nod.

Sammy just shook his head “You’re not their favorite brother Dean.”

Dean gave Sam a look then he turned to you and nudge you with his arm “Go on and tell him I’m the favorite and see his heart break.”

“You guys are idiots.”

After finishing your breakfast, you sat down on the sofa and started to catch up on the movies and tv shows you missed in the past couple of months or so. On your third episode Dean walked in with groceries in both hands, you looked up at him coming down the stairs then went back to watching your show.

“Don’t bother to help I got it covered.” He said when he saw that you didn’t even turn to look at him.

“Good cuz I wasn’t going to help.” You answered honestly.

He put the bags on the table then turned to you “Seriously?” he waved his arms.

“What?”

He pointed to the table “You weren’t gonna even pretend to help?”

“You’re a big boy Dean you can handle it on your own.” You patted his stomach.

You made your way to the table to look.

“So what did you get?”

Before you could take a look inside he snatched the bag from your hands.

“Nope, you’re not gonna touch any of the things I got.”

#writings-of-a-demigod #supernatural #supernatural imagines #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x sister reader

[teenwolfmarvel-obsessor]

Who Did This To You?

Full Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

Summary: After a long and stressful hunt, all you wanted to do was take some time off at a local bar, primarily you and Dean rather than Sam. So, while Sam is at the motel, you and Dean decide to hang out at a bar in town. The two of you hang out for a while before it's time to head back to the motel. While Dean is in the restroom, you get an unwanted conversation from someone, but you can handle yourself, right?

A/N: Not sure if I like this that much, but I thought I'd post it anyway. Stay tuned for more imagines!! If you'd like to be a part of the tag list, there's a form in my bio you can fill out, or you can DM me!

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Established a relationship

Not set during a specific season

Warnings:

Unwanted flirting (guy at the bar)

Dean Winchester x-reader

The music played in the background as everyone talked around Dean and me. We had mostly kept to ourselves, occasionally speaking with the people around us. Since we were never really in town for long periods of time, Dean and I thought it'd be funny to make up different stories.

For instance, this time, 'we' had just gotten married in Las Vegas, and we were doing a road trip across the United States. It was stupid, but it was always fun to make different lives that we might never have. "Wow, so, this trip must be fun," Maria said, the woman we met. I smiled and nodded my head.

Dean had his arm around my shoulder, leaning to the side to kiss me on the cheek. "You two are just adorable," Maria said, grinning. The two of us thanked her, telling a few more fake stories about how we had met. "Well, as much as we would love to talk more, we have to head home," Maria said.

She and her husband, Jeff, stood up from the table. "It was so nice meeting you two. Congratulations on the marriage," Jeff said. The nice woman winked at me before leaving the bar. Dean kept his arm over my shoulders. His smile never left his face as we sat there. He sighed and checked his watch.

"Shit. It's eleven-thirty," Dean said. He took his arm off my shoulders to have the last bit of his drink. I grabbed my purse from the chair beside me, putting my arm through the strap. "I'll be right back," Dean stood up, "You good to take the bill?"

I nodded. Dean winked at me and kissed me on the cheek, then headed to the restroom. I shook my head at his actions. The bartender stood to the side as she was tending to some other customers. I pulled out my wallet to close our tap.

We had kept it open for a bit since we had bought Maria and her husband a few drinks, with them doing the same for me and Dean. Lexi, the bartender, spotted me. She held up a finger to tell me she'd be right with me. I gave her a nod and leaned against the bar. I still had a few sips left of my drink.

The music had died down a bit as the night went on. Dean and I hadn't planned on staying out this late, but we had a long day, so it was worth it. Surprisingly, we hadn't drunk that much, mainly because we knew we had about a nine-hour drive the next day. I grabbed my phone to text Sam that we'd be over in a few.

He replied with a thumbs-up icon before telling me that he'd probably be asleep by the time we got to the room. I chuckled at his response, putting my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. "Well, hello," a man said, sliding to the spot beside me. I nodded at him and continued to wait for the bartender.

"Why're you here by yourself?" he asked. I was able to see him from the corner of my eye, noticing that he was already out of it. I looked over my shoulder at the bathroom door. Part of me hoped Dean would spot what was going on, but the other part of me hoped he wouldn't, knowing that he'd cause a whole scene.

"I'm not," I replied. As soon as I said that, I realized that answering his statement gave him even more reasons to continue. The man looked around to find whoever was with me. "Well, I don't see him," he said. "Well, he's in the restroom, so.." my sentence trailed.

I tried to fly down the bartender, but she was now talking to another customer. The man chuckled and turned to the side to get closer to me. I took the last sip of my drink, trying my best to hint that I wasn't interested. He sighed, reaching a finger for the loop of my belt. My hand put the glass down on the counter and tightly grasped his wrist.

He was taken aback by my reaction but gathered himself and tightly pulled my hand away from his. "I'm not interested," I said, "I've got a boyfriend." Now that he was closer, I could practically smell the strong scent of alcohol on him. I mean, we were in a bar, of course, but this was an unpleasant smell.

The man's grip grew tighter at my response. He flipped his hand so my forearm faced up. I looked him directly in the eye before stomping my foot onto his, thanking myself for choosing heavy boots. "Lexi!" I called the bartender. She turned to me with raised brows, her expression changing when she saw the man beside me.

Lexi walked over and glared at him. The people she was speaking to stepped to me, taking the unwanted man away. I thanked Lexi, giving her some money for our drinks tonight. She nodded her head after making sure I was alright. I glanced down at my arm, taking notice of the red marks already forming.

I quickly pulled the sleeve of my jacket down, covering my arm, just in time for Dean to step out of the restroom. I smiled at him as he approached me. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded. The two of us said goodbye to Lexi.

_________

(The Next Day)

I stood in front of the mirror in the motel, doing whatever I could to stop the red marks from becoming visible. But as expected, there wasn't much I could do. Rather than wearing the T-shirt I usually wore. I thought it was best to just keep the sweatshirt I had on yesterday.

The boys had already packed up and were in the car waiting. I told them that I was going to look through the room just in case we forgot anything. Since last night, I hadn't told Dean or Sam what happened, mainly because Dean would freak out and spend the day trying to track whoever that guy was.

I didn't want that, and I knew Sam wouldn't either. We knew how Dean got around things like this. Especially when it came to guys flirting with me. I grabbed my backpack and left the motel room, making sure that my sleeve wasn't pushed up by the backpack strap. "There she is," Dean cheered, gesturing to me with wide arms.

I smiled and got into the backseat. Dean got into the driver's seat while Sam, as usual, was in the front passenger seat. I set my backpack beside me. We were headed to Kentucky after getting a call from a friend of the Winchesters. As Dean was driving, I kept an eye on my arm, wanting to hide it at a good time whenever it began to bruise.

A couple hours passed, and it was time for lunch. We still had about two hours till we arrived at the motel. The three of us found a booth in the back of the diner. Typically, we'd try to find a secluded table in case anyone heard us. Sam pulled out his laptop.

During the whole drive here, Sam and I had been doing some research while Dean drove like usual. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom," Sam told us. We nodded and looked down at the menu. I kept glancing at my sleeve, worried that it would slip down.

I probably should've worn a better jacket, but I had limited choices. Every so often, I noticed Dean glance at me. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing," I answered. He stared at me for a few seconds before scanning his eyes over the menu again. Dean didn't take long to figure out what he wanted for lunch.

"Y/N/N, I've known you and hunted with you long enough to know what's wrong with you," Dean said. He set the menu in the middle of the table, taking mine out of my hands. My boyfriend ignored my glare when he prevented me from choosing my lunch. "Nothing is wrong," I replied.

His unamused expression never dropped. Instead, Dean leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed. "Don't bullshit me," he said. "I'm not bullshitting you, Dean," I replied. Before the two of us continued, Sam came back over to the booth. Pam, our waitress, made her way over.

"Afternoon, sweethearts. What can I get ya'll?" she asked, holding a notepad in one hand and a pink pen in the other. We each told her what we wanted. She smiled and took the menus, turning around to the diner's bar. I caught Dean looking at me as Sam explained what we found.

About an hour passed, and we finished our lunch. Dean left the money at the table, including a tip for Pam. As I was walking out of the diner, Dean grabbed my wrist and pulled me aside. I hissed in pain and took my hand out of his grip. Dean's face turned to concern when he heard my reaction.

The last thing he wanted was to hear me wince from his touch. He told Sam that we'd be right there. He waited a second before turning back to me, wanting to know what the hell just happened. He knew me too well that everything was fine, especially from what we do.

Dean didn't waste a second. He pushed my sleeve down, revealing the hand-shaped marks. Dean looked at the marks and then up to me. "Dean, it's fine," I lightly pulled his hand away from mine, but he didn't back down.

He carefully held my hand, not wanting to let me go. "Who did this to you?" Dean asked, his voice slightly stern. I was glad that we weren't in Virginia anymore since I knew that Dean would leave the diner to go after you know who.

His brows raised when I hadn't answered his question. "Who did this to you?" he repeated. "It was a guy at the bar. It's fine," I replied. I took my hand out of his grip. Dean looked at me and sighed as he put two and two together, turning to the side (GIF Above).

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, looking back at me. "I didn't want you to worry," I replied. Dean sighed, again, and took my hands into his. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, bringing me in for a hug. "I'm sorry," Dean said. "I'm okay, I'm okay," I repeated.

Taglist: @nix-rose @nyotamalfoy

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x-reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x-reader #sam winchester imagines

[spookyysinsanity]

dating sam winchester - SFW headcanons! (fem!reader)

not my gif!^

a/n: usually i don’t write/read about sam, but i’ve had some cute ideas and i’ve gotten a couple requests. hope you enjoy! please like and reblog if ya do :)

he would be the type to make you those handmade gifts that you see on pinterest and then be so shy and cute when he gives you them 😭😭

he’s a huge sweetheart so he would definitely be bigger on cuddling. he wouldn’t want to ask though, but you would take the initiative and hold him and he would just melt.

would definitely cook for you

one of his favorite ways to spend time with you is researching. just sitting in silence and enjoying eachother and reading.

loves seeing you in his clothes bc they’re so much bigger on you

i like to imagine that you’d have a sister like relationship with dean, and he secretly loves seeing you two act like siblings, but also how he protects you like you’re blood.

one day he would come home with a dog…..(amelia?!?) then a cat…….. then a squirrel. dean doesn’t like it.

he’s so sweet he just loves to take care of you

he’s incredibly respectful, but also very cautious at first. with his past, he treats you like your made of glass.

def would learn to braid your hair and give amazing massages idk i just see it

would bring you home little things he knows you like

would get incredibly flustered whenever you get bold, if that makes sense. i picture sam with either a really shy, quiet girl, or someone more outgoing with a witty demeanor(similar to dean), but still quite reserved and kind.

he loves socks. like long socks, if you buy them for him he LOVES THEM and will wear them

this is more a stanford-era sam hc, but he would definitely carry you around on his back…. like running full speed with u on his back.

always has a gentle hand on you. not in a “you’re mine and i want everyone to know it way,” but in a gentle, protective way.

loves how you smell. he’ll just tuck his head into the crook of your neck or your hair and breathe you in

gets really excited to show you little things that interest him, stuff that dean would make fun of. you try to know what he’s talking about and just smile and nod :,)

okay that’s all for now! please please let me know if you like this and leave comments if you did or even if you didn’t! <3

#supernatural #supernatural headcanon #sam winchester #spn #sam winchester headcanon #dean and sam #headcanons #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester x reader

[were-all-idjits-here]

Sam or Dean extremely flustered by badass, couldn’t-care-less-what-you-think-of-me, punk reader in black leather with piercings and tattoos galore

Bonus points for Sam because that’s not really someone you’d expect him to fall for

Also bonus points for Dean cuz that’s also kind of his aesthetic and we usually see him sweeping women with girlier aesthetics off their feet, but not usually a fellow punk

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester headcanon #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester headcanons #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagines #supernatural headcanons #spn #my spn thoughts

[imagineteamfreewill]

Gentle and Kind

Title: Gentle and Kind

Pairing: Prince!Sam Winchester x Queen!Reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Christmas, threats, angst, fluff, and mentions of death, wounds, war, violence, and sex (nothing happens)

Summary: Y/N’s kingdom has been at war for a long time, and when King John offers her respite in his castle for Christmas, she eagerly agrees.

A/N: This fulfills trope #21 on my 25 Days of Tropes list! It was honestly going to be a short one shot, but it got away from me and now I think it’s the longest thing I’ve written all year. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy and that you had a safe and happy holiday season!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your muscles ache from weeks of fighting with the knights in your first garrison, and the dried blood in your hair is not likely to come out on its own, but for the first time in a long time, you’re relaxed. The carriage is driving through safe territory—the safest you’ve been in since Crowley invaded your kingdom and declared war on you and your people. There’s no fear of being ambushed here.

When King John sent a messenger to your war camp, you had been surprised. He isn’t known for reaching out, and to send a personal, royal messenger straight into war territory is a dangerous move. Nonetheless, the King of Ashela had invited you for a short respite in his castle, just in time for Christmas. You’d accepted after much consultation with your closest advisor, Sir Robert.

You begin traveling east to Ashela four days before Christmas Eve. Your armies travel west, back to Athos. Newer, freshly trained knights had arrived a few hours before your departure to relieve your weary soldiers and allow them rest of their own, though Sir Robert had carefully selected four of them to travel with you as your personal guard for the journey. They ride horseback outside the carriage, and Sir Robert is in the second carriage with the gifts you’ve brought for the royal family.

Charlie is resting across the carriage from you. She’s abandoned the formal dress that you know King John will expect of her as your lady-in-waiting, but you don’t blame her, nor do you correct her. Wearing trousers is easier nowadays, and you’ve done the same. You’ve gotten into the habit of wearing the traditional captain’s uniform, or even a soldier’s armor, rather than the gowns you used to wear before the war. Even as the horses carry you down the tidy forest road that leads to Ashela, you’ve donned your armor. It's a habit to put it on each morning, and you wanted to display your strength and empathy for your men even as you left them behind on the battlefield. 

You let out a restless sigh and shift in your seat, and your armor clanks as you move. You wince when something bumps into a bruise on your back. A small part of you wishes you’d chosen to wear something else, but there’s no point in stopping to take the armor off when you’re already so far into the journey.

“Do you think I’ve made the right choice?” you ask when Charlie looks over at you, no doubt checking if there’s something she can do to ease your discomfort. She’s a good friend, and you’re often grateful that you chose her to be your closest lady-in-waiting. “Do you think that leaving my men during this time is the right thing to do?”

In response, Charlie offers you a tired smile. She’d journeyed overnight to your castle—Eryas Court—then back to the war camp, in order to collect the gifts for John Winchester and his two sons. Even if they were inviting you for respite during a war, you didn’t dare show up empty-handed.

“My lady, you can only do so much. You may be a queen, but you are also just a woman,” she replies.

You sigh again and look out the window at the stars as you mull over the most recent battle plans your captains had shown you before you’d left the camp. The Elciums have been encroaching slowly upon the village that surrounds Eryas Court, but you’ve been able to keep them at bay since winter began. You’ve even managed to take back some of the territory they’d taken over the hot summer months.

The carriage falls back into silence, except for the clatter of the wheels and the constant rhythm of the horses’ hooves against the packed dirt. After a while, you find yourself nodding off with your head against the sturdy carriage wall. You don’t fight it, and you let yourself be lulled to sleep for the remainder of the journey.

Charlie’s hand over yours wakes you. You startle, and she sits back in her seat as the carriage rocks with your movement. Your hand immediately flies to where your sword would be, but you’ve unstrapped it from your side for the journey. Sir Robert had said it wouldn’t be proper for you to show up dressed for battle, so you’d met him halfway. He would keep hold of your sword, at least for the trip to Ashela. Once you arrive, he’s to return it directly to you for safekeeping. It was your father’s sword before it became yours, and you don’t trust many with it.

“It’s okay,” Charlie soothes, and you stare wide-eyed at her, gasping slightly for air. “We’ve arrived in Ashela. You slept all night, and for most of the morning.”

Nodding, you close your eyes. It’s shocking that you weren’t plagued with nightmares. The last time you left the war camp, you struggled to sleep, even in the chambers where you’d spent every night since birth, at least until the Elciums invaded.

Your mouth is dry and you swallow a few times to try and get the sandy feeling to abate. You wish you had some water, or at least something to drink. There’s a knock on the carriage window and you flinch away, sliding toward the center of the bench.

You sense Charlie shifting in her seat. “It’s one of the guards,” she says a moment later. “Are you ready to meet King John?” 

You’ve never been to Ashela before, nor have you met John and his sons. They’ve been fine neighbors, however, and you have no complaints. You hear what others say about them—the Winchester sons are strong soldiers and scholars, and King John is exacting in everything he does. They’d be formidable foes, and you’re here to make sure that your kingdoms are allied, if only informally.

You nod again, and you open your eyes as Charlie pushes open the carriage door. You lift your chin as the sun immediately floods in through the opening.

Charlie exits first, and she helps clear a path for your exit. A strong hand is offered and you use it to climb from the carriage. Your legs are stiff from sitting so long, especially after months of fighting, and you have to bite back a groan as your muscles stretch.

“Your Majesty,” a deep voice greets.

The winter sun is practically blinding and it takes you a second to get your wits about you. Tall, lush evergreens stand in clusters around the castle, reaching toward the bright blue sky. They’re interspersed by dark green bushes and several boulders. A forest continues behind the clearing you stand in, and the trees grow so closely that light can’t reach through their branches. The darkness this creates is both intriguing and a bit terrifying.

Snow covers the grounds and all the trees surrounding it, except for a gray stone path that has been cleared for you. King John and his entourage stand on a larger patch of gray stone a few feet away, and you bow politely in his direction. He returns the gesture.

“King John,” you say. “Thank you for your kind invitation.”

“You’re very welcome, Queen Y/N. I expect your journey was a pleasant one?”

“As pleasant as can be expected.”

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you as Charlie adjusts the chainmail hood you’ve let fall from your head, revealing the blood caked in your hair and the healing cut that follows your hairline. There’s a sizable bruise on your temple as well, from when an Elcium knight hit you with his shield.

The man to John’s right clears his throat and steps forward with a small bow. “Your Majesty, I’m Prince Dean, head of Ashela’s royal guard. Please allow me to provide you with new armor while we repair yours, and your knights’,” he adds, gesturing to the four men standing near you.

Each man stands with one hand at his side and the other resting on the hilt of his sword, and though they hold their heads high, you recognize the weariness in their stance and in their taut expressions.

“That’s very generous, Prince Dean. Thank you.” You answer with a bow of your own, and he smiles kindly before you turn your eyes to the man on the other side of the king.

He’s tall, taller than any of the men in the King’s entourage and in your guard, and his hair just barely brushes over the collar of his jacket. It’s almost chestnut in the light. When he smiles at you, the urge to smile back is so strong that you can’t fight it. You meet his eyes, and you smile for the first time in a while.

“Prince Samuel, Your Majesty,” he says. He bows, short and sweet. “If you’re ready, I can show you and your lady to your chambers. I’m sure you’re eager to rest.”

You bow back, still smiling. “Thank you, Your Highness.” You nod politely to the King and to Prince Dean, then follow Prince Samuel toward the stone castle at the end of the cleared path. Two of your men travel with you, and Charlie is close behind you to the right, but the other two knights stay with Sir Robert. You realize only as you enter the castle that you’ve left your sword behind.

Samuel leads you through the halls of his home, explaining the history of various paintings and rooms, but you only catch bits and pieces. He walks quickly, and while your armor is protective, it’s made to help you fight on horseback, not take extensive walking tours through beautiful castles.

“Here are your chambers,” Samuel finally says, and you clatter to a stop.

Charlie bumps into you, and she grabs your arm for stability. You catch Samuel’s eyes flickering down to her hands on your arm before he collects himself. Your time on the battlefield has caused your decorum to slip just enough that you know you’re being much too informal for the occasion. Suddenly very conscious of your mistakes, you clear your throat and straighten your posture, fixing him with the most composed, diplomatic look you can muster.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” You allow one of the guards to enter after Samuel opens the door, leaving you feeling a little more exposed. You’ve grown used to being surrounded by people fighting for your kingdom—fighting for you. “Your father was very kind to invite me here. We’ve brought gifts for him, and for you and Prince Dean.” You gesture back the way you’d come. “I’m sure that Sir Robert, my advisor, has already passed them along.”

Samuel dips his head in thanks, smiling. “We’re happy to have you. We’ve been trying to show more diplomacy than in the past.”

You raise an eyebrow. Most kingdoms are not so open about their goals, at least in your experience.

The guard exits and nods his approval of the chambers you’ve been given, and Charlie takes that as a sign to enter and make sure the room is prepared to her standards as well. You don’t move.

“Ashela has always been diplomatic,” you carefully reply. You’re not sure what to make of his disclosure. 

“But not always welcoming. I’m trying to change that.”

“You? Not your father?”

Samuel lifts his chin slightly at the question. There’s a hint of pride in his expression, but none in his voice as he answers, “My father has put me in charge of our relationships with neighboring kingdoms. This is one of many steps I’m— we’re taking,” he corrects, “to strengthen those bonds.”

“I see.”

You glance through the open doorway, where Charlie is instructing a chambermaid how warm you like your rooms and how often to tend to the fire. Mentally, you file away the information that Sam has just given you, then turn your focus on more concrete matters.

“I suppose there are festivities I should like to attend?”

He nods, and you can feel his gaze still on your face, even as you watch your friend peek out the windows to see the view from your chambers. “Indeed. There’s a feast tonight, shortly after sundown. I can instruct someone to fetch you.”

“I would like that very much, Prince Samuel,” you say.

You turn back to him, and he takes that as a cue to take your hand and kiss the back of your knuckles, where the skin is rough and scarred from so much fighting. The gesture is simple, but it surprises you nonetheless. Prince Samuel is gentle and chivalrous. It’s been a long time since you’ve been treated that way. Your hand seems to tremble as you pull away, and your breath catches over a lump in your throat.

“Very well. I will see you tonight, Ma’am,” Samuel says. He bows low. It’s a sign of respect he’s not obligated to, and it makes you want to cry. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep over the past few weeks or maybe it’s something else, but to be treated like a queen—not just a captain—is something you didn’t know you’d missed.

“No need for titles,” you find yourself saying, your voice thick with sudden emotion. “You may call me Y/N, if you wish.”

If Sir Robert were here, he’d be interrupting and excusing away your brash actions, but you’re practically alone and the only remaining guard won’t speak up, even if he wanted to. It’s up to Sam to respond, and he only stops and stares at you for a long moment. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait, desperately hoping he won’t be cruel.

“Sam,” he finally replies. He offers you a small smile. “You may call me Sam.”

You nod and smile wide, glossy-eyed as Sam turns and heads further down the hallway, opposite the direction he’d first brought you. Once he’s around the corner, you step into the warmly lit chambers, where Charlie has moved onto the wardrobe of clothes that has been prepared for you. Clearly, they hadn’t expected you to show up with all of your finery, and you’re thankful that they had the forethought to provide something for you.

The other guard exits and closes the door behind him, allowing you privacy as the two knights take their places in the hallway. You stay close to the door, where you can see the whole space.

“The Prince seems very polite,” Charlie says after a few moments. Her back is to you as she sorts through the dresses.

“Very.” You don’t say anything more.

“And handsome, too,” she prods.

“Charlie,” you warn. “I have other, more important matters than a polite and handsome prince.”

She sighs and you can picture her rolling her eyes at you. Finally, she pulls a plain dress in your favorite color from the wardrobe, then turns and holds it up for you.

“This will do for now,” she decides. “But I’ll have to find you something else for the feast.”

You glance at her, not bothering to ask how she already knows about the feast, before turning in a circle to take in the enormous room that has been given to you for your respite. It’s bigger than the counsel tent at the war camp. The bed itself could fit the entire map table, and the size of the fireplace reminds you of the enormous bonfire that the men use to cook their meals. The walls and floor are made of the same tan stone as the rest of the castle, but the stone is so smooth that it reflects the light from the flickering flames. There’s a dark wood door in the corner, which you guess leads to a room for Charlie, if Ashelan castles are built like your own.

Everywhere you look, there are lavish curtains, tapestries, and paintings framed in gold. There’s a mound of pillows to lounge on by the fire, and several dark wood chairs standing behind them in a semicircle. Their carvings are so elaborate that you hesitate to sit in them. The bed is draped with soft, plush fabrics in deep greens, reds, and a creamy white that reminds you of the milk your nursemaid brought for you as a young girl. Evergreen boughs are wound around the posts of the bed, though they’re partially hidden by the fabric curtains that have been fastened against the wood. The whole room has been decorated with more sweet-smelling pine branches, as well as clumps of red berries that glisten in the light from the fire and the candles in the window. It’s amazing to you that the candles are already lit, given that it’s only midday, but Ashela has many customs that you’ve always found strange. For instance, Prince Dean was married several years ago in an arranged marriage. Your father had explained the ancient custom to you, explaining the benefits to each kingdom. You still remember that conversation so clearly, and even though your father has long since passed, his words are forever imprinted in your memory.

“Sometimes doing what’s best for your people isn’t immediately what’s best for you, Y/N, but if you’re lucky enough, the two will align.”

“It’s too much,” you murmur, and you escape back out into the hallway, leaving the door to your chambers wide open as you flee. Your heart is racing again and it feels like the walls are starting to close in around you. The panic is irrational. You know it is, but you can’t stop it as it pushes you forward down the hallway.

The guards give you worried looks, but you ignore them as you hurry around the corner where Sam had disappeared. You walk quickly, following the sound of loud voices until you reach an open-air chamber where Sam and his brother are lounging at a table. Two gold goblets sit in front of them, and a candlelit tree has been placed in the corner of the room. An enormous dark fur blankets the floor. The fireplace here is as big as the one in your guest chambers, if not bigger.

Both men stand as soon as they see you.

“Your Majesty,” Dean greets, and he frowns slightly when he looks at you properly. “Is everything alright?”

You clear your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. “I desire a moment alone,” and then you add, “With Sam.”

Dean raises an eyebrow and glances at his brother, who nods slightly but doesn’t say a word.

“Very well,” Dean says. He picks up his goblet and drinks the last of its contents, tilting his head back to get the last drops. “I’ll be in my study.” He nods politely at you before leaving through a passageway just to the right of the tree.

Sam waits until the sound of his brother’s footsteps has disappeared completely before he speaks up.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“I apologize, but I must ask for new chambers.” Sam’s face twists in confusion and, predictably, he opens his mouth to ask why. You continue before he has the chance. “I have been fighting with my men for many moons, and the rooms you have given me are much too lavish. I’m afraid I simply won’t be comfortable in something so big, as foolish as it sounds.”

Though your words are composed and formal, you wring your hands in front of you, hoping Sam will ignore the way you can’t stop fidgeting. You feel so flighty that it makes you irritated even with yourself.

His expression turns sympathetic. “I see. There must be something I can do to convince you to stay, Y/N. Those chambers have been carefully prepared for you by some of our most trusted servants. If I were to request the change, I’m afraid they might take offense.”

“You care deeply for them,” you say, quieter now. Something about him and the sound of his voice calms you, and the anxiety you’d felt only moments before has started to diminish.

“I do,” he answers. “They work hard, and they deserve to be treated with respect.”

“I agree.” You nod and fall silent, looking down at your hands. Suddenly, you feel very foolish to have searched him out to ask for something so trivial. You’re a queen, after all. You should be used to nicer things than this. You shouldn’t be so overwhelmed by a room so similar to the ones from your childhood.

“It wouldn’t be offensive, however,” Sam begins, and you look up at him, holding your breath, “to only have one Ashelan maid to assist you.”

You exhale a small sigh of relief, as small as you can manage without being completely obvious. “I suppose one would be sufficient. She could help Charlie. Lady Charlie, I mean.”

He smiles. “I’m sure Lady Charlie will grow accustomed to our castle soon enough. She seems very intelligent.”

“Oh?” You can’t help but ask what he means. Charlie is smart, there’s no denying it, but many men have mistaken her for a frail, unassuming creature before. Sam would be one of the first to correctly identify her.

“She has the same look in her eyes as you. You are not one to be underestimated. I’ve heard about the way you fight on the battlefield.”

Before you can respond, there’s a noise in the hallway and you look over your shoulder to see what it is. One of your guards in the entrance. Your stomach sinks, knowing that he’s most likely been sent to retrieve you.

“I should allow you to get settled,” Sam says. He nods politely at the guard before looking back at you. “Though I hope you will tell us about your traditions in Athos at the feast. I am eager to learn more.”

You watch him for a moment, judging if he’s earnest in his request, and then you nod. Offering him a small smile, you follow the guard back to your guest chambers, where Charlie is waiting patiently for you, a warm bath already drawn.

The night is hard. After your bath and a meal brought up by the Ashelan maid, you try to rest before the feast, but the nightmares come quickly this time. You toss and turn, and you wake up screaming. The guards burst into your room as Charlie rushes to you from where she’s been inspecting your armor for what needs the most care and attention. 

Once it’s determined that you aren’t in any danger, she convinces the guards to withdraw. She holds you then, letting you cry in her arms as you tremble, remembering the horrors of the dream and the reality that shapes them. You cry yourself to sleep, and you’re certain that you only stay asleep because Charlie decides to stay with you. She tucks you back under the heavy blankets and drags one of the carved chairs over to your bedside. There, she curls up with one hand holding yours and the other propping her head up so she can rest as well. You have minimal nightmares after that, though her presence beside you is reassuring enough that the few times you do wake, you aren’t too afraid to fall back asleep.

You sleep through the feast, much to your dismay. John, Sam, and Dean are waiting for you when you enter the Great Hall to break your fast with them the next morning, however.

“I trust you slept well,” Dean says to you once you’re settled in the seat across from him. Charlie sits beside you, and Sir Robert is on your right, across from Prince Sam. John is at the head of the table. There’s another man across the table, opposite Charlie, and another on her left. You don’t recognize them, but you suspect that they’re friends of Sam and Dean, or that they’re the lords-in-waiting. John doesn’t seem to have an advisor with him, but there’s an empty seat at the far end of the table.

“As well as can be expected,” you reply. Your smile is strained, but you offer it anyway, then move your hands out of the way of the servant who comes to bring you your meal. “I apologize for missing the feast. I so badly wanted to come, but it was best that I stayed in my chambers last night.”

“We understand completely,” John tells you. “We are not strangers to war.”

You nod, and everyone goes back to eating. The Great Hall is silent. It’s a complete change from your meals in your tent at the war camp. Though you always dined with just Charlie and Sir Robert, you’d always been able to hear what was happening outside the tent walls. There’d be shouting and laughter, songs and teasing. Sometimes there was crying and men groaning through their injuries, but you ate those meals quickly.

As you eat, you look around the room. The Great Hall is decorated similarly to your chambers, with evergreen boughs, red berries, and candles that burn even in daylight, but there’s also an enormous tree at the far end of the hall. It’s lit with candles, just like the one you’d seen when you’d searched out Sam the day before. The tree stretches dozens of feet up, and you wonder how old it must be to have grown so tall. 

“We do not decorate like this in Athos,” you say, and all three Winchesters look at you in mild surprise. A bit embarrassed by their eyes on you, you falter slightly, but the interest on Sam’s face when you don’t continue spurs you on.

“You use plants here.” You gesture to the tree. “But we decorate with wooden carvings of our ancestors, and woven tapestries that we hang beside every door and window.”

“What are the tapestries?” Sam asks. His father and brother have gone back to eating, even though they still watch and listen, but he’s set down his fork and is now giving you his full attention.

“They’re different for each family. My family has tapestries that show the beginnings of our kingdom and the first king of Athos, and over the years, I have created many simple ones as gifts.”

“I’m sure they were wonderful,” Sam says. He holds your gaze for a moment before he smiles, and you smile back.

There’s a fluttering in your stomach. The clinking of John’s fork on the table makes you look away. There’s heat in your cheeks, much to your chagrin, and you exhale shakily. It’s strange to be so rattled. You’re not even sure why the conversation is affecting you so much. You’ve talked about Athoan traditions countless times before today with countless royals and monarchs. Something about Sam simply shakes you to your core.

John sips from his goblet, then gestures at Sam with the cup before he sets it back on the long table. “Samuel will show you the grounds today. I’m sure he can answer any questions you have about Ashela.”

Somewhat surprised that the King doesn’t plan to meet with you himself, you nod. It’s not atypical for kings to pass you off to one of their advisors, but you don’t mind it in this instance. You’re still weary from battle, and Sam is excellent company.

“Very well,” you reply, dipping your head just a little. You pick up your own goblet to take a sip. The drink is warm, thick, and rich, and you frown a little before peering inside the cup.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asks.

You nod and glance over at Lady Charlie. She picks up her own goblet and takes a sip as you set down yours. She pauses for a moment, her cup paused in midair, then smiles.

“Hot chocolate,” she murmurs. “It’s a traditional drink here.”

Raising an eyebrow at her, you whisper, “How do you know that?”

She gives you a sly smile and shakes her head. You know the look—she’ll tell you later.

You sit back in your seat and turn your attention to Dean, who’s still watching you. His father and Sam are both watching you now too, and Sam is frowning with obvious concern.

“Everything is fine,” you reassure them. “I’ve never had hot chocolate before. It’s delicious, John. You have fine cooks here in Ashela.”

He nods in response and stands. You stand as well, as does the rest of the table, and you watch as the King leaves through a door on one side of the Great Hall. 

Dean clears his throat. “I have duties to attend to, brother.” He claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Remember that Father said—”

Sam cuts him off. “I remember. Thank you, Dean.”

A moment later, Dean excuses himself, and you watch him leave, too. Sir Robert mumbles some excuse and bows to Sam before leaving as well, no doubt to study policies and look over ledgers in his own guest chambers. He’s always been a bit of a recluse, and there’s little privacy at the war camp. You suspect he’ll spend most of his time hidden away while you’re on respite.

You turn to Charlie. “You should rest,” you quietly tell her. “I know that you did not sleep much last night—”

“I’m fine,” she replies.

Shaking your head, you grab her hands and squeeze. “Please. I’ll feel better, even if you just relax by the fire. I feel awful that I’ve kept you up.”

Charlie nods, though you can tell she’s reluctant to leave you by the way her eyes cut to Sam. He’s pointedly staring at the candlelit evergreen and sipping his hot chocolate, giving you the semblance of privacy even though he’s mere feet away.

You squeeze her hands again and offer her an earnest smile. “I’m okay. I don’t mind being with him,” you say, soft enough that you’re certain Sam can’t hear from across the table. “He’s… nice.”

This makes her smile wide, and you can practically see all the possibilities she’s conjuring up in her head.

“Nice?” Charlie teases.

You playfully scoff and drop her hands, smoothing your skirt. Turning to Sam, you say, “I’m finished eating, if you’re ready to begin.”

Sam hums and sets his goblet down. “Will Lady Charlie be joining us?”

She takes that as her cue to shake her head and curtsy. After years of practice, the action is smooth, despite the fact that she hasn’t worn a formal gown in almost a year. She’d complained in private to you that morning that she wished the two of you could continue wearing trousers, and you’d agreed. The dresses that have been provided for you in Ashela are all too big, and you’d spent part of your morning being poked and prodded by the castle seamstress as she frantically altered the bodice to fit you. They might’ve fit before the war, but the fighting has given you more lean muscle than anything. Your own dresses back at Eryas Court will likely need altering when you finally return home.

“I have other things that require my attention, my Queen,” Charlie says, and she gracefully exits the Great Hall, though not before throwing you a meaningful look before the doors close behind her.

“Shall we?” Sam asks.

You jump, surprised to find that he’s come around to your side of the table and stopped alongside you while you watched your friend depart. He offers his arm and after a very brief moment of hesitation, you take it.

You and Sam traverse the grounds on foot, and he shows you the snow-covered gardens, the stables, the knights’ training field, and the arboretum where his mother is buried. Finally, he leads you to a frozen lake set far back from the castle. It’s surrounded by the same pine trees that seem to be everywhere in Ashela, and there’s a small wooden hut sheltered by the two largest. From inside, Sam pulls out sharpened blades with leather straps. It takes you a moment to realize that they’re for skating on the ice.

“Would you like to skate?” he asks.

“I’ve never been skating before,” you admit, and you look at the lake. It’s smooth and glossy, with few imperfections on its icy surface. You can’t help but wonder if it’s actually safe. Though ice skating has grown popular in Athos since the start of your reign, you’ve never allowed your court to participate. You’ve heard too many tales of the ice breaking under the skater’s weight. A small girl in the village had drowned just last winter.

“I’ll keep you safe, Y/N. You have my word.”

Scanning Sam’s face, you try to determine whether or not you can trust him, not just to lead you around and show you the castle grounds, but with your life. 

You place your hand in his after a long moment of deliberation. “You’ll have to show me how.”

He smiles, and it’s almost as bright as the sun on the snow. You let him lead you by the hand to the edge of the lake, where a downed tree has been positioned lengthwise. Sam helps you to sit, and then he very carefully kneels in the fresh, powdery snow to help attach the blades to your boots. The knees of his trousers are soaked with snow when he stands, but he doesn’t seem to care as he sits beside you and attaches the blades to his own boots. He helps you up with both hands, encouraging you as you wobble and sway in his grip.

“Move slowly,” he advises as he steps onto the lake, leading you onto the ice as he skates backwards.

It takes all your effort and concentration to stay upright at first, but with Sam’s encouragement and gentle guidance, you quickly get your bearings. You’re able to skate around the lake on your own after only an hour’s practice.

“You’re a natural!” Sam says as he skates beside you. His pace is surely slower than it would be on his own, and you smile over at him.

“Your assistance was a great help,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head a little. “I have the feeling that you would have been fine on your own.”

You fall into silence as you skate side by side, but a quarter hour later, you carefully stop a few feet away from the fallen tree. Sam stops as well and he holds his hands out to help you just in case something is wrong.

“Y/N?” he asks.

“You’ve been skating for a long time, haven’t you? For several years, at least?”

Though he seems confused by your sudden question, Sam nods. “Since I was a young boy.”

Smiling, you gesture with one hand toward the open expanse of the lake. “Show me what you can do, then. You must be very skilled.”

“I don’t know if “skilled” is the correct term…” He rubs the back of his neck with his dark green mittens, and you chuckle. His nose is pink, as are his ears from where they peek out from his furry hat.

“I’m not your queen, so I can’t command you, but I am your guest. Please show me?” you ask.

He’s smiling again. “Very well. Do you want to sit?” He gestures towards the tree, the other hand already reaching for your elbow.

You shake your head. “I will stand, thank you. Now go!” You shove at him, not enough to put him off-balance, but enough that he laughs and ducks his head before he skates away.

Sam is skilled. It only takes you a minute to figure out that he had been telling the truth—he’d been skating a long, long time. He moves with great ease over the ice, and you marvel at his speed. He flies by you three times before he slows, then stops sharply. A shower of ice flies up into the air before it rains down again. His breath comes out in heavy white puffs of fog and his chest heaves with exertion, but you’re smiling wide, giddy from the show.

You clap for him. “You underestimate yourself! You’re very fast!”

He laughs as he catches his breath. “Dean and I would race as children.” He points toward the far edge of the lake, where there’s a large gap between two trees. “There’s a river there, and we’d race from here to where it meets the forest road.” He pants for a second before looking back at you. “We should return. We’ve been out in the cold for a long time.”

Nodding in agreement, you let Sam lead you off the ice and back to the log, where you clumsily unstrap your skates. He takes them and puts them away while you fix your skirts, hat, and boots. When he returns, you stand and take his arm, and the two of you head back to the castle.

You eat a small meal when you return—mostly bread, cheese, and sausage—and it’s while you’re eating that you ask Sam for a second tour of the castle. He’s more than happy to oblige.

“All of these paintings,” you say as he escorts you down a long, decorated hallway, “They have similar styles, but the others you’ve shown me do not. Who painted these?”

“I did,” Sam replies.

You stop to stare at him. “You did?” You can’t hide your surprise, though you know it’s rude. “You painted them? All of them?” There must be at least two dozen in the hall.

He nods, and his cheeks are a little pink, though the castle is much too warm for it to be from the cold. “Yes, all of them.”

Turning back to the landscape he’d just named, you marvel at it. The colors are vibrant, matching the rest of the castle, and the gold details glimmer in the candlelight. Though the sun is going down outside and there’s little light coming in from the windows, you can still see everything clearly.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to see where I paint them?” he asks.

You look away from the painting to nod. “I would like that very much, yes.”

Sam smiles and offers you his arm again, and he begins to lead you down a narrow hallway that you hadn’t noticed before. You would have labeled it a servant’s passage had the lush carpet not continued down its length. There are wooden doors every few feet, but Sam ignores them and keeps walking.

After several minutes of walking, you come to the end of the hall and the last door, which is slightly higher than the rest. There are two steps leading up to it, but Sam needs neither to step into the room. You opt to take them, and he places a hand over your head so you don’t hit it against the wooden beams that border the opening.

Though the door is smaller than normal, the room is not. The ceiling stretches high up into one of the castle’s towers, and windows let light in even from high above. The wooden floor is swept clean, and an easel is set up near the largest of three windows at eye level. It’s big enough that you could sit in it and let your legs dangle outside of the tower. The window faces the arboretum, and if you squint, you can see the frozen lake in the distance.

A table with paints and brushes is set up beside the easel. Sam approaches it so naturally that you’re sure he must spend a lot of time in this room. 

“It reminds me of my study back home,” you quietly say, and Sam looks over at you as he picks up a brush and dips it into one of the pots of pigment.

“Do you like to paint?”

You shake your head with a small smile. “It’s not one of my talents. But I like to look at art. My castle is full of paintings, tapestries, and carvings.” You pause and watch as he adds brushstrokes to the painting on the easel, easily picking up where he’d left off. “You must paint something for my castle before I leave.”

“What would you like?” he asks.

You pause and look around the room as you think. There are several paintings leaning up against the rounded walls, along with piles of supplies that look like they might topple over any second.

“Could you paint the lake? In winter?” you finally request.

The room is quiet for a moment as Sam paints. When he doesn’t reply, you look over at him. He’s staring at the canvas in front of him with his brush in mid-air, but then he turns and meets your eyes, as if he can feel you watching him.

“Why not in summer, when the grass is green and the sunlight makes the water glow? Or in spring, when the wildflowers are blooming? Or in autumn, when the wind blows clouds through the sky?”

He describes the seasons so well that you can picture the paintings in your mind, but you shake your head, not looking away.

“No. I want the lake in winter, so I can remember skating for the first time,” you explain.

He stares at you, and you stare back. Your heart feels like it’s out of control and you have to force yourself to break eye contact. All the while, your thoughts are scattered and though you know in your head that you should be more composed and that you shouldn’t be alone with him in such a remote part of the castle where there are no guards, Sam makes you feel safe.

“We should prepare for dinner,” he finally murmurs, breaking the spell that had fallen over the room.

You glance up at the windows to find that the sun has disappeared from the horizon. Darkness is creeping in, and shadows are stretching across the floor of Sam’s tower. Have you truly been so distracted that the time flew by that quickly?

Nodding in agreement, you step back out into the hallway and make your way down the narrow passage. Once in the main hall, Sam escorts you to your room in silence. Charlie is waiting for you there, and she helps you change into a more formal gown for dinner. She doesn’t utter a single word about the strange expression on your face, nor does she mention the fact that you’ve been without a guard all day.

The dinner is less formal than you were anticipating, and you fall into comfortable conversation with the King. He knew your father before you were born, though the last time they’d met was when you were a young girl. He tells you story after story of their times together, and you’re learning about their last visit when one of the Ashelan guards posted outside the Great Hall bursts in.

“Your Majesty,” he greets, hurriedly bowing to the King. “A messenger has just arrived for Queen Y/N. It’s an urgent matter.”

“Send them in,” John replies. He gestures toward the door and you stand as a haggard soldier in your colors staggers through. He’s supported on one side by another Ashelan guard, and your blood runs cold at the frantic look in your soldier’s eyes.

“Your Majesty.” He starts to bow but loses his balance. He only remains upright thanks to the guard beside him. He’s gasping for air.

“Peace, soldier,” you tell him, though you feel anything but. Your heart is pounding in your chest again and your hand trembles as you place it on the back of your chair. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you. “What news do you bring me?”

“A m— message from King Crowley, Ma’am. He says that if you do not surrender by Christmas, he will take Eryas Court.”

You stare at him for a moment, then scoff. “He cannot so boldly assume I will surrender! Have our armies held the camp?” you ask.

“No, Ma’am,” the soldier replies, and it feels like the floor has fallen out from underneath you. Your stomach twists as the soldier continues, “His men slaughtered our armies, and they have infiltrated the village. They have surrounded Eryas. The men returning to their families are at the keep, and are holding it as best as they are able, but they are tired, Ma’am.”

Lady Charlie gasps beside you, and you lift your chin, silently sending up a prayer. Crowley has caught you off guard, but you can’t show it.

You turn to look at John. “Is there a room I can use to speak with Sir Robert and send word to my captains?”

John nods and stands, directing his attention to the first guard. “Prepare my study for Queen Y/N and Sir Robert. Escort them there once it is ready, and have one of the servants available to fulfill any requests she might have,” he orders.

The guard nods and bows before hurrying back out into the hallway.

“And you,” John continues, looking at the guard supporting your weary soldier. “Take him to see the doctor. Get him a meal and fresh clothes, and prepare him a place to sleep.”

The soldier still has his eyes on you, and you quickly cross to him before the Ashelan guard can take him away. His entire body is covered with blood, sweat, and grime, and he smells like the worst parts of the battlefield. His legs shake when he struggles to stand straighter as you approach.

“You can trust the people here,” you gently tell the man. “Thank you for what you have done. You have brought your people great honor. Now, rest.”

The man salutes you and you bow your head, then watch in silence as the guard leads him out of the Great Hall and towards the servant’s door you’d passed earlier that day on your tour. Once he’s out of sight, you turn and face Sir Robert, who has moved to stand at the end of the table closest to you.

“I apologize for cutting our dinner short, John,” you say. He nods once. “Can I ask that Lady Charlie be escorted back to my chambers once she is finished dining?”

Charlie stands from her seat. “I’m already finished, my Queen, and if it pleases you, I shall stay to assist you.”

You could cry at the loyalty and care from your friend, and you almost do. You catch yourself, however, and you swallow the lump that forms in your throat. John and Dean are talking in hushed tones, but Sam is watching you. His eyes are sad and you have to look away as soon as you notice. You’re barely holding it together as is, and you’re sure that he can tell.

The guard assigned by King John to escort you to his study appears in the doorway, and you quickly follow after him. He leads you down the main hallway and up a set of stairs to a dark wooden door that you’d glimpsed earlier. He opens it in silence, then closes it once you, Sir Robert, and Charlie are inside. 

Almost immediately, you brace your hands on the large table in the center of the room and hang your head. A sob escapes you and Charlie places a comforting hand on your back as you let out a few more. The tears run across your cheeks to the bridge of your nose, then drip onto the table beneath you as you cry.

Sir Robert stands in silence until you’re able to compose yourself a few minutes later. He’s watching the flames flicker in the fireplace with his back to you.

“How many men have we lost today?” you ask, dabbing at your face with the handkerchief Charlie has somehow produced.

“ There were 6,000 in the garrison when we left,” he answers. There’s no emotion in his voice and a small part of you feels ashamed for crying, but you push that thought away before it can fester.

“And how many do you think are defending the keep right now?”

Sir Robert turns. His expression is grave and the light and shadows from the fire deepen the wrinkles on his face. 

“Less than 5,000, if I had to guess.”

You sigh heavily and look back down at the table, then straighten until you’re standing tall again. You cross the room to stare out the window. From the King’s study, you can see the gardens, which means you’re on the opposite side of the castle from the tower where Sam paints. Silently, you start to pace the length of the large fur covering the floor between two shelves of ancient books. Lady Charlie sits at the table while Sir Robert remains by the fireplace, and both of them watch as you walk back and forth.

Nobody speaks until you stop, but there’s a knock at the door right before you can admit that you have no solution that won’t end in a sorrowful amount of bloodshed. You turn to look as the door opens, revealing King John.

“Y/N,” he greets. “I may have something that will assist you.”

You turn to face him fully. “What is it?”

He walks to an elaborately carved chest on the mantle and carefully removes a rolled parchment. It’s sealed with wax, but there are two seals. Curious, you meet John at the table. Charlie stands to make room for the two of you. It only takes a second for you to recognize the crests imprinted into the seals.

“What is this? Why does this hold my family’s crest?” you question.

“And mine,” he adds. “This decree was created and signed by your father and I during our last visit together. I promised to keep it safe until the right time had come.”

“The right time had come? For what, John? How come I’ve never heard of this?”

He glances at you, then breaks the seals and unrolls the parchment. It’s yellowed with time, but the words are written in black ink and they’re as clear as day.

“Let it be known that on this day, Y/N Y/L/N of Athos and Samuel Winchester of Ashela are betrothed in marriage. Upon agreement from both parties or in time of need, they shall be wed and the marriage shall be consummated within a fortnight,” John reads, and you feel yourself falter. Charlie places a hand on your back to help keep you upright.

“Athos shall be ruled by Y/N as the heir apparent, and any heirs produced by Y/N and Samuel shall become the next heirs. An alliance shall be formed between Athos and Ashela at the time of marriage. This betrothal can only be broken by death or upon act of God.”

At the bottom of the parchment, there are two signatures. Only one is familiar to you, and the world tilts around you for a moment when you see it.

“I beg your pardon,” you say, your mouth suddenly very dry. “But this cannot be true. I would know if I were already betrothed.”

John places the parchment on the table and it rolls up again. “Nonetheless, your father has signed it and stamped it with his royal seal. You are betrothed to my son, and in agreement with the decree, our kingdoms will be allied after your marriage is consummated.”

A dark shadow in the doorway makes you look up. Sam ducks into the room, his eyes immediately scanning the people in the study. When he sees the distress on your face, he frowns, but he answers to his father first.

“You called for me, Father?” he asks.

“I did.”

John picks up the parchment again and hands it to Sam, who unrolls it and reads it over. You watch his eyes scan the words once, twice, then three times before he looks up. He glances at you for a split-second.

“This must be false,” Sam finally says. “I would know if I was betrothed! You would have told me a long time ago!”

“Why do you think I never pressured you to marry, as I did your brother?” John asks.

Sam clearly doesn’t have an answer because he turns his attention to where you’re standing behind his father. “Did you know about this?” he asks.

You shake your head, hands clasped in front of you. “I did not. I’m just as shocked as you are.”

“I can’t believe that you are treating Y/N like this! She is in the middle of trying to save her people and you’re scheming!” Sam accuses. He’s glowering down at his father, even though he’s only a few inches taller.

John scoffs. “Samuel—”

“You say that this was created when we were children? And yet it has remained hidden from us until now? Why wouldn’t my father have told me about my own betrothal?” you ask, relieved that Sam is just as angry and surprised as you. It stings a little that he seems disinterested in marrying you, but you have more important problems than your feelings.

Sir Robert speaks up from where he still stands by the fireplace, and you whirl to face him when he says, “The betrothal is real. I witnessed the decree when it was written.” His expression softens when you meet his eyes, shocked at his revelation. “I had just been appointed as your father’s advisor. It was the first decree I helped him create.”

You can’t help but feel betrayed. “You helped him? All this time, you knew about this, and yet you never said a word?”

He nods, and there seems to be genuine regret in his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Why now?” Sam questions. “Of all the times, Father, why would you tell us now?”

John gestures to the parchment in Sam’s hands. “You’re to marry whenever you agree there’s an opportune time, or if there’s ever a time of great need. If you marry, an alliance will be formed between our kingdoms. I can send our armies to help defeat Elcium and save Y/N’s people. Your people, once the marriage is consummated. Your enemies will become my enemies.”

Torn between a mix of anger and humiliation, you turn your back on the men, taking a few steps away from the table to stare out the window. Has it really come to this? Will you really have to marry to save your people?

There’s a shuffling of papers behind you, and the crackle of the fire, but nobody dares to speak. You know that they’re all waiting for you to make the decision. Though you’ve only known him for a few days, you’re certain that Sam would never force you to marry him and follow through with the decree. 

“Would you form an alliance without marriage?” you finally ask, without turning around.

A beat passes, and then John answers, “Think over what I’ve said, Y/N. I will be in the Great Hall, awaiting news.”

He leaves after that, and you hear Sir Robert and Charlie excuse themselves as well, which leaves you alone with Sam. He keeps his distance from you as you continue to stare out the window with your arms wrapped around yourself. Despite the fire, you’re cold all the way down to your bones, and you shiver.

“What are you thinking?” Sam finally asks. His voice is gentle, hesitant even, in the silence of the study.

“I don’t know.” You shake your head. “This isn’t…”

“Did you dream of marrying someday?”

Surprised at the question, you have to stay quiet and mull it over. Then, after a few moments, you nod. “Yes,” you tell him, quieter than before. “Someday. I knew it was probably expected of me too, but then Crowley invaded…”

“And you had to put the needs of your people before your own desires,” Sam guesses.

“It’s my duty as queen.”

Your father’s words return to your head, ringing loud and clear as a bell.

“Sometimes doing what’s best for your people isn’t immediately what’s best for you, Y/N, but if you’re lucky enough, the two will align.”

Turning around, you smooth your skirt and meet Sam’s gaze. “As is marrying you,” you say.

“You’re not going to oppose the decree?” he asks. Sam sounds genuinely surprised, and he steps closer. He’s still in his dinner clothes, though you know he had time to change. 

“I don’t have a choice,” you admit. “If I don’t marry you, your father won’t aid my men, and my people will die. My kingdom will be taken and I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison or as a servant to Crowley, unless he decides to kill me, which is unlikely. Crowley is a ruthless king, and he tortures for sport.”

Something hardens in Sam’s eyes, and his jaw clenches. “You can stay here indefinitely as my guest. I wouldn’t let him do that to you.”

“And I wouldn’t live in hiding while my people suffer,” you counter. Closing the distance between you, you reach out and grasp Sam’s hands in yours. “I will understand if you choose not to marry me. It is your choice, and I will live with whatever decision is made.”

“Why wouldn’t I marry you?” he asks. 

“I don’t wish to force you—”

“You wouldn’t be,” Sam says, cutting you off. “Though I haven’t known you long, Y/N, I find you wonderful company. You’re kind, intelligent, brave, and you care deeply for your people. I could not ask for more in a wife, though I hope we can become friends first.”

You duck your head, caught off guard by his praise. Sam crooks one finger underneath your chin and lifts it until your eyes meet his again.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he murmurs. “Far more so than any woman I’ve ever met.”

“I… Don’t know what to say,” you admit. After months of fighting and living in the war camp, the tenderness in Sam’s voice and his touch is foreign to you.

“Say that you’ll marry me. Say that we’ll save your people before any more harm can be done.”

Silently, you nod. You don’t look away as Sam smiles wide, his eyes full of a joy so complete that it makes your chest ache just from witnessing it. He pulls you close, crushing you against him as he hugs you tightly, and you gasp in surprise.

“I’ll tell my father to make the necessary arrangements,” Sam says as he pulls away. “The sooner we are married, the sooner we can rescue your men.”

You nod again, a bit numb as Sam kisses you on the forehead, narrowly missing the bruise, and hurries out into the hallway. His footsteps are quick and the sound fades before you can even recognize that he’s truly left you alone in the study.

“Y/N?”

Charlie appears in the doorway and you turn to her, trembling hands clasped in front of you.

“Are you well?” she asks. She steps into the room and you can immediately tell that she’d heard the whole conversation between you and Sam. The walls and doors are thick here, but Charlie is an expert at eavesdropping.

“I— I’m getting married,” is all you can reply.

She gives you a knowing look and then carefully guides you to sit in one of the high-backed chairs near the fire. The warmth helps to soothe the shock from finding out your kingdom was most certainly doomed, then from finding out it would be safe once you were married. Your world is changing so quickly that you can hardly keep up.

“He’s a good man,” she tells you.

“I know he is,” you reply, staring at the fire. It makes your eyes water but you can’t look away. If you do, you might cry for real for the second time today. Your emotions have been twisted by so many things and people today that you’re unsure of how to feel.

“It’s okay to be scared.”

You turn your head just enough to show that you’re listening, but you don’t look away from the fire.

“You’ve been through so much, Y/N, and I know you believe that queens should not show their weakness, but you forget that you are also just a woman,” Charlie continues.

This time, you turn to look at her. “But I am not just a woman, Charlie.”

She gives you a gentle smile, then reaches out with one hand to squeeze yours. “When you’re with Prince Samuel, you are.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admit, your voice breaking. You clutch her hand with both of yours when she moves to pull away, turning in your seat so you can better face her. “What if he expects me to spend more time being a wife than being a queen? I cannot afford to give up who I am because of a man.”

Charlie considers your question for several long moments before she sighs and collects your hands completely in hers. She holds your gaze as she says, “You are brave for doing this. I cannot tell you what to expect, but I can tell you that I have heard many things from the ladies and the servants here in Ashela. All of them, every single one, has told me that Prince Samuel is as wonderful as he seems. I do not think that you have very much to fear, but I will be by your side no matter what you face.”

You inhale deeply, closing your eyes, and then breathe out. Charlie waits patiently as you try to collect yourself, and her presence is enough reassurance that it doesn’t take you very long.

Finally, you nod and stand.

She does the same, dropping your hands. “Now, I need to get you ready!”

“Ready?” you ask, and Charlie laughs. She guides you out of the study and into the hallway.

“For your wedding! I can’t give you the prettiest dress, but I’ve asked around and we’ve come up with something that I think will work.”

A spark of excitement grows inside of you as she chatters on about her plans for the impromptu wedding. It’s amazing to you that she’s managed to work so quickly, but you don’t question it. Charlie has many ways of doing many things, some of which are better left unsaid.

Soon, you find yourself back in your guest chambers. Charlie helps you into a plain ivory dress, then fixes your hair. You sit quietly as she works, and when a handful of Ashelan maids and ladies start to swarm around you, you simply close your eyes. It’s been a long day, and exhaustion is starting to creep in.

“The Queen needs to rest before the ceremony,” Charlie announces, and you open your eyes just enough to see the women leaving. She starts to blow out the extra candles, until there’s only one remaining beside your bed.

“You only have an hour,” she murmurs as you carefully climb under the covers. She helps you arrange your dress so that it won’t become wrinkled.

Nodding tiredly, you rest your head back against the pillow she props up for you. “Thank you, Charlie. For everything.”

She smooths a hand over your hair and sits in the chair beside you, closing her eyes as well. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that she’s staying close to help you sleep. 

The ceremony is simple. You don’t expect much, but John rouses enough servants for there to be an arch of evergreen placed at the end of the Great Hall, and there’s a bouquet of branches and berries for you, as well. Sam dons his royal robes and a thin crown with vibrant gemstones that sparkle in the candlelight from the nearby tree. John and Dean change clothes too, and somehow Charlie finds a new dress just in the nick of time. Only you aren’t wearing something elaborate. It stings a little—you’d once imagined your wedding day as an occasion to remember, but now you could simply melt away into the background and it’s quite possible that nobody would even notice. It gives you a miserable feeling in the pit of your stomach, and when you pass by a mirror on the way to the Great Hall, you have to look away. Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. 

A priest marries you with little grandeur, and in only a few words, you find yourself bound to Sam in marriage. It’s not even dawn on Christmas Eve when he leads you by the arm back out of the Great Hall. Charlie stays behind with Sir Robert to help prepare the carriages for travel while he advises John on where to send his armies, and when you arrive at Sam's chambers, they’re empty. You’re alone with him for the first time as husband and wife.

“We should leave for Athos immediately,” Sam says, and you nod in silence. He lets go of your arm once the door shuts behind you, then hurries into a separate, adjoining room. You set your bouquet down on a nearby table.

Through the curtained archway, you can see a bed similar to the one in your guest chambers, as well as a writing desk and another easel. Sam’s sword is propped up against the wall near the fireplace, and a bow and arrow are laid haphazardly on a nearby dining table. The room is decorated for Christmas, just like the rest of the castle, though the greenery here is minimal. Where you would expect to see much of his personal belongings, there are empty spaces that leave you feeling strangely out of place. His chambers are practically bare except the furniture and the decorations.

Sam goes behind a dressing screen and you look away, heat in your cheeks at the thought of being alone with him while he undresses. It’s not the first time you’ve been alone with a man in a similar state of dress—you’ve lived in a camp full of soldiers, many of whom are careless—but it’s the first time where something could be expected of you.

“Sam?” you call out, staring at the candle on the window ledge nearest to you. Outside, the sun is just barely beginning to rise. Its rays are slowly stretching over the snowy landscape, revealing the hundreds of pine trees and the lake whose frozen surface glitters in the light.

“Yes?” You hear him pause and the room falls silent. When you don’t immediately answer, you hear some quick shuffling, and then he’s coming out from behind the screen and approaching you.

“Y/N?” he asks.

You turn, and Sam is standing before you in plain clothes. There’s no trace of the robes or the crown. The only thing that would give away his royal status is the signet ring on his left pinky. There’s a plain gold ring on the finger beside it, which matches the one he’d given you during the ceremony.

“Your father said our kingdoms would only be allied once our marriage was… consummated,” you say, deciding to use the same language as John, though you know there are easier ways to say what you mean.

“I do not expect anything of you,” Sam gently replies.

“But your father—”

Sam shakes his head. “He does not need to know what’s between you and I.”

You’re holding your breath; you can’t breathe a sigh of relief until you’re absolutely sure Sam will go along with the ruse. “You will lie to your own father? Your king?”

He’s quiet for only a moment before he answers, “He is not my king any longer. I am married to you. I am your husband, and you are my queen. I will tell him whatever I must to ensure that your people are safe.”

You gingerly take his hand and allow yourself to breathe again. “Our people, Sam.” You pause to look up at him, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He nods and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “We should leave. I am ready, if you are.”

“Don’t you want your things?” you ask, glancing around his chambers. 

Sam lets go of your hand, then walks around his room. He gathers his sword, a book from beside the bed, and a small wooden case from near the easel before he returns to your side. You take the book and the case from him so he can strap the sword around his waist, then hand them back to him.

“The servants have already brought many of my things to the carriage. The rest can be brought another time.”

Nodding, you take Sam’s arm and let him lead you out of his chambers, through the castle, and to the waiting carriages. There are three of them, two of which belong to you, and another that is clearly Ashelan. It rocks as the occupants move around.

John, Dean, and two of your guards are waiting at the open door of the middle carriage when you arrive. As you walk the gray stone path leading away from the castle, you catch a glimpse of Sir Robert as he climbs into the carriage at the front of the line.

“Y/N,” John greets. He nods politely to you, then to Sam. “My men are already on the way to Athos. Sir Robert has been helpful in ensuring they will be of sufficient help to you. I have also sent word to Crowley to inform him of our newly formed alliance. I suppose everything went well after you retired to Sam’s chambers?”

He raises an eyebrow at his son, who nods once. The implications of his words weigh heavily in the winter air, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to look nervous or uncomfortable. You cannot give away the lie.

“All is well,” Sam replies. He smiles a little and places a hand over where yours rests on his arm. “She is ready to travel now.”

Dean hugs his brother goodbye, then leads you toward the carriage. He stops a few feet away and holds his hand out to one of your guards, who produces a familiar sword.

“I believe this is yours?” Dean asks.

You smile, relieved that you’re once reunited with your father’s blade. “Yes, thank you.”

Taking the sword, you fasten it around your waist. The weight is comfortable, and it bumps against your thigh as Dean helps you into the carriage.

Meanwhile, Sam talks quietly with John. You’re too anxious to eavesdrop once you’re alone, so you sit back on the seat and try to keep your breathing even as Sam finally climbs into the carriage and the door shuts behind him. He sits opposite you, where Charlie would normally sit. It feels strange to not travel with her by your side, but you remind yourself that she’s in the next carriage, and that you’ll see her again when you arrive in Athos.

Moments later, the horses lurch forward. You sway with the movement, and Sam reaches out to place a steadying hand on your arm. You offer him a small smile before you sit back once more.

The sun rises as you journey to Athos, just like it does every day, and you cling to that normalcy. Even as you wring your hands, your mind whirling with every possible outcome of the coming battle, the sun continues on its path. You find yourself glancing out the window at it more often than usual. The snow outside is beginning to melt and drip from the tree branches as the temperature warms from the light, and as the horses carry you closer to home, the snow starts to disappear entirely, replaced with mud and trampled grass left in the wake of tired soldiers and weary knights.

Suddenly, Sam shifts to sit beside you, and he takes your hand without a word. You stare at him, baffled by his strange actions, but he doesn’t say anything, nor does he look at you. Finally, you look back out the window. His thumb rubs over the dry, scarred skin of your hand, and though it’s foreign to hold hands with a man you barely know, there’s something comforting about his presence. It’s soothing enough that you doze off for a while, grasping at what little rest you’re allowed during the journey. He holds your hand the entire time.

After the half-day ride, the carriages arrive in the village that surrounds Eryas Court. You release Sam’s hand and sit forward on the bench to give yourself a better view through the window. 

The houses and shops that you’ve grown up around have been burnt and destroyed, and there’s rubble lining the cobblestone paths. Wooden stalls and stables have been smashed into splinters, and stone buildings have begun to cave in on themselves. Your breath hitches when you see blood staining a wall.

“Where are the people?” you ask, your voice cracking. “Where are my people?” The question is desperate, meant for nobody but the world, and you feel Sam pulling you away from the window a few seconds later.

“Let me go!” you bark at him.

He pulls you back a second time, and you twist in your seat, angry and aching with grief, but you stop when you see him.

Sam’s expression is grave. “We don’t know who’s out there. You are not dressed in your armor, and you are giving Crowley’s archers an easy shot. Until we know what’s happening, you need to stay hidden,” he advises.

You stare at him for a moment, then nod mutely. All the anger drains out of you, because he’s right, and you’re no use to your people if you’re dead.

While leaning back against the wall of the carriage, you can still see enough through the window to tell that the destruction starts to lessen as you near the keep. The pressure in your chest starts to ease when the noise of villagers and soldiers talking reaches you, and you exhale shakily when you hear someone call out,

“Make way! The Queen is here!”

There’s a commotion outside the carriage. Cheering erupts as soon as the first person spies you through the windows. Sam’s hand finds yours again. He squeezes, and you squeeze back even harder, clutching his hand as the carriage moves through the crowd and into the guarded castle.

When the carriage stops, you and Sam wait until the door is opened by guard. They help Sam out first, then you. You don’t know what to expect as you exit, but you’re relieved to find that most of your castle is still intact.

“Eryas Court lives on, Your Majesty,” someone says, and you turn to find Sir Robert walking from his own carriage. Charlie is close behind, and you start to smile.

“Indeed, Sir Robert,” you tell him. “It seems the battle was over before we even arrived.”

After a moment, you laugh and pull him into a hug. It’s improper, but you find tears brimming in your eyes when he murmurs in your ear, reminding you that your father would be proud of how you’d handled the invasion.

“Welcome to Athos, Your Majesty,” Charlie says.

You release Sir Robert and turn to where Sam and Charlie stand off to one side. He gives her a short bow as she dips into a curtsy. An Ashelan man is standing on the other side of Sam. You recognize him as one of the men from your breakfast the day before. There are several Ashelan servants helping yours unload the carriages, as well.

“It’s a beautiful kingdom,” Sam says to you. “How long has Eryas Court been standing?”

“Four generations,” you proudly reply. “Would you like a tour?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but the conversation is put to a halt when the captain of the guard approaches and bows in your direction. 

“Your Majesty,” he greets. He does the same for Sam before turning back to you. “I bring word from the fields.”

“How are my men?” you ask. Your expression grows serious as you focus on the matter at hand. Sam stays silent, allowing you to do your job without interference.

“We have lost many, but we have made it through the darkest nights. Elcium has retreated, and they have dropped their banners. They stand with white flags now.”

You raise your eyebrows, unable to keep your expression neutral. “They have surrendered?”

He nods. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s very good news, Captain,” you tell him, smiling. “Tell them that we will negotiate terms after Christmas. I will expect a full report then, but I have other matters to attend to tonight. I will also expect to see your wounded, and I would like a full list of the dead. Please ensure that any news about the Ashelan soldiers is sent to King John, and also reported to King Sam.” You gesture to Sam without looking his way.

Your captain bows to both of you, then heads back the way he had come. Satisfied with the news, you turn back to Sam with a wide smile.

“Let me show you my home.”

Sam smiles back at you, then offers you his arm. Before you leave with him, you instruct Charlie to make sure everything is in order after the maids unpack your and Sam’s belongings in your chambers. She agrees with a smile brighter than you’d seen on her in a long time.

You and Sam walk the castle grounds most of the afternoon, stopping only to have tea. You show him your favorite spots, tell him stories of your childhood, and you show him the study you’d abandoned after inheriting your father’s. The windows there overlook the wildflower fields, and the river beyond. Though there’s no flowers in bloom now, he assures you that the frozen river is subject enough for his paintings.

As the sun begins to set, you and Sam retire to your chambers. They’re smaller than you remember, and it feels cramped as the two of you prepare for sleep. You’d never opted to take on your father’s chambers when he passed, instead choosing to stay in the rooms you’d had your whole life.

Charlie helps you change into a sleeping gown, and behind an opposite dressing screen, you hear Sam and the Ashelan lord—Castiel—talking quietly. When the two of you emerge, you share nervous smiles as Castiel and Charlie leave to go to their own quarters.

“I’m not quite ready to sleep,” you say after the door finally closes behind them. You keep your distance, unsure of how to act now that you’re alone.

Sam nods. “I’ll try to keep to myself, so there’s room when you are ready to retire.”

You glance at the bed, then back at him. “Perhaps I will go to bed early then.”

He frowns a little and searches your face for something, clearly trying to figure out why you’ve changed your plans. Truthfully, you don’t want him to have to try and make himself small. You’re already feeling too many emotions; you don’t want to add guilt into the mix. 

You smile as if you don’t know what he’s thinking, then head to the bed and climb under the covers on one side. Charlie has warmed the heavy blankets with irons, and the furs from last year’s hunts still provide you with plenty of warmth. 

Sam watches, still standing in place, until finally you let out a sigh.

“I’m perfectly okay sharing a bed with you,” you tell him. “We are husband and wife. If we don’t lie together, it will raise suspicions.”

“And I am prepared to face them.”

“Do you really not want to share a bed with me?” you ask, a little hurt by his resistance.

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head. “I do not want you to be afraid of me, nor of expectation that I might—”

“I am not afraid of you.” You sit up in the bed, suddenly aware of the nighttime chill in your chambers as the blankets fall from your chest. “I have fought in many battles, and I have seen many horrible things. Sharing a bed with a kind, gentle man who is now my husband is not a fear that I possess, Sam Winchester. Even so, I am capable of much more than you may realize, and I am not afraid of anything you could possibly do to me.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then a small smile appears on his face. “Very well.”

You lay back as Sam crosses the room and climbs into bed beside you. Both of you lay on your backs, staring up at the fabric canopy. You want to talk—you feel like you should, anyway—but the events of the past few days start to catch up with you, and you find your thoughts beginning to wander as Sam’s breathing grows slower on the other side of the bed. He falls asleep before you, but not by much.

When you wake, there’s a heavy weight over your waist and hot breath against the back of your neck. Your legs are intertwined with Sam’s and your back is pressed up against his chest. It’s not uncomfortable, but you lie and stare at the wall, trying to figure out how you and Sam have become so entangled. Surely, you would have kicked him during your nightmares.

“Are you awake?”

His question is barely a whisper, but then Sam shifts and you feel him raise himself up on his elbow to look down at you. He’s checking to see if you’re asleep, you realize.

You turn your head to meet his eyes in the darkness. “Yes,” you answer. “I’m awake.”

He sighs softly and lays back down, resuming the close contact from before. You wonder if you should push away. Is it improper to sleep like this if you don’t know each other, even if you’re married? Does it matter?

“Can I ask…” You finally begin, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room again. “When we went to sleep, we were not touching.”

“No,” Sam answers. His breath tickles the hairs at the nape of your neck and you fidget under the covers, but you don’t pull away. “You were dreaming. It was a nightmare.”

“Oh.”

You can imagine why he’s pulled you close now. Without Charlie sitting by your bedside, there had been some anxiety over if you’d sleep through the night, but Sam’s comforting touch seems to have soothed you. For the first time in weeks, you feel well-rested.

“It’s Christmas,” you say after another minute has passed.

Sam yawns and his thumb strokes against your stomach. His voice is drowsy in your ear.

“So it is,” he replies.

“Merry Christmas, Sam.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You turn in his arms until you’re facing him, and you carefully place one hand on his chest. It feels natural to be this close and to lean against him, and Sam watches you with half-mast eyes as you get comfortable. When you do, however, you don’t know what to say. You stare at each other, listening to the castle stir awake. Finally, you lay your head down on him. He helps you get comfortable, and then you close your eyes. You can hear Sam’s heartbeat.

“We’re married,” you murmur.

He hums. “So we are.”

“What do we do now?”

“Celebrate Christmas, I suppose.”

You move your hand, unconsciously fidgeting with the tie on Sam’s sleep shirt. “Can we stay here for a while first?”

Sam presses a kiss to the top of your head and you smile to yourself, even though you know he could probably see.

“Yes, Y/N. We certainly can,” he answers.

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#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam x you #sam x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fic #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagines #spn #supernatural #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester x plus size reader #sam winchester x female reader #christmas #medieval au #royalty au #sam winchster fluff #jared padalecki #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines

[bleepbloops213]

Hi i'm new to writing but i was wondering if you would give me some prompts please :)

#sam winchester imagines #reader x sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x y/n

[supernaturalfreewill]

"Sam! Oh my God! Sam!" You were standing at the edge of the river, wide-eyed when he resurfaced. "Jesus, please tell me you're okay!"

He hauled himself up onto the bank, his chest heaving, water running off him in rivulets, his clothes sticking to him. "I'm fine," he gasped out, shaking as much water off as he could. "I'm good. Are—are you?"

You nodded, heaving a sigh of relief, looking him up and down. "That was absolutely insane. What the hell were you thinking?"

He shrugged, peering at you. He'd been thinking that he had to keep you safe and damn the consequences. It was that simple. "I don't know," he said. "But it worked."

"You Winchesters..." you mused, shaking your head again. You broke into a smile as you took in how utterly soaked he was. "You're absolutely drenched. You must be freezing. Come on," you said. He started back toward the car, and you watched him waddling a few feet before you couldn't stifle a laugh anymore.

"What?" he asked, turning to glance at you.

"Nothing," you said, smirking at him again. Once he'd resumed his sodden pace toward the parking lot, you bit your bottom lip and jogged a little to catch up to his long strides. "By the way," you started, "you look good all wet."

He looked over at you in surprise and then laughed abashedly. "Stop."

"No, I'm dead serious!" you insisted. "10 out of 10. If it weren't for the imminent danger of hypothermia I'd have swooned right at the bank just from the sight of you."

And Sam Winchester, laughing again, was blushing.

Prompt: "By the way, you look good all wet."

#sam winchester imagines #sam winchester drabbles #sam winchester x reader #spn reader insert #supernaturaal

[stargazedwinchester]

Womanhood | Dean

Summary: Dean helps to comfort you during your time of the month, without much experience about periods, he tries his best.

This is a little different to the actual request, I hope that’s okay! I’ve tried my best to replicate it though :) Let me know if you want Sam’s/Cas’s version too!

Based off of this request here, thanks!!

Word count: 1,134

Warnings: some swearing, not loads!

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

This morning, you woke up with the most unbearable pain, cramps that felt like your appendix had ruptured. You groan in pain, hoping it would subside soon. You clutch your belly and slowly get out of bed. Your alarm clock flashes 7:39am, and you let your head fall. “I love when I have no sleep,” you mumble to yourself, letting out a huff. Looking behind you, Dean isn’t passed out, snoring so loud it would’ve probably woke you up anyway. You hold your belly and walk out toward the kitchen.

“Morning,” you grumble, and Dean turns around from the stove. His face lit up seeing you at the doorframe, your hair a mess and in one of his spare Star Wars t-shirts and your own pyjama shorts. “Someone’s looking rough.” He jokes, noticing you’re not smiling back. “Aw honey, what’s wrong?” He asks, his smile quickly fading. The smell of breakfast hovers over you, like it’s mocking your morning sickness. “I think I’m coming on my period today…” you say, and Dean turns round to face you, letting the eggs and bacon sizzle quietly on the stove. Toast pings out of the toaster at the same time. “Are you sure you’ll be okay for today’s hunt? If you’re in pain, I’m sure Sammy and I will handle it fine.” He genuinely looks concerned, as if you haven’t had plenty of periods before. It hurt like hell, sure, but you could manage just fine. Along with the fact that periods can make you super emotional and/or angry, you were certain it could come in handy when killing a couple of monsters.

“I’ll be fine Dean, honestly. I want to come with you both.” You smile, leaning over the counter top. Dean nods in agreement. “It’s always fun having you around. If you change your mind just let us know, okay?” He shoots you a quick grin before turning back to the stove, plating up your breakfast. “Where’s Sam?” You question, usually he’s already by the table reading his favourite book or getting ready to go out for his morning jog. “I think he went for a shower, I’m not sure.” Dean spins round and passes you a plate with 2 slices of toast, egg, bacon and hash browns. “Wow, this looks really good, Dean. Thank you.” You smile warmly at him, and he returns the gesture.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Your rapid breathing causes you to hunch over and rest your hands on your thighs, you take a deep breath. “God damn…” you say, looking up at Sam, who’s right in front of you. “What a kill!” You chuckle to yourself, wiping your hair out of your face. You stand up, giving Sam a high-five. “Good job, Y/N. It’s like you don’t need our help.”

“I know, right? I’m just that go-“ “Y/N! Watch out!” Sam cocks his gun and tries to shove you out of the way, a sudden loud bang shocks you as you feel something sharp pierce your skin abruptly. You fall over, Dean rushing to your side. “I’ll cover you, Dean, make sure she’s okay!” Sam quickly checks back at you, noticing blood is pouring out of our calf.

“Fuck. Y/N, are you okay? Does it hurt?” He panics, shuffling over to apply pressure on your leg. He rummages in his pocket for a handkerchief and immediately applies it to your wound, he rushes to whip his belt off and tie it tight enough around your leg to hopefully stop the bleeding. You can practically see the fear in his eyes, and you laugh quietly.

“What’s so funny, huh? Almost dying?” His hands shake, trying to keep the pressure on your leg at all times.

“I’m not gonna die, Dean. It’s just a gunshot. Stop worrying,”

You place your hand on his, and he gazes at you with so much worry. His gorgeous hunter green eyes comfort you, even though he’s feeling the complete opposite. You pull your hand up to his face and caress his cheek, he finally shows some sign of calming down. It’s like his whole body relaxes by just your touch. “I’ve honestly felt worse.” You joke, slowly moving your body to sit up. You wince, feeling cramp in both of your abdomen and your leg. “Help me get up,” you say, and Dean pulls you up, anchoring you from underneath, your arm draped behind his back. “Let’s get you home.” He says, catching his eye on Sam, making his way back inside.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

It had been a few hours since you arrived back at the bunker, you lay across the sofa, clasping your belly as the cramps still hadn't subsided. Your leg, however, had been patched up neatly by Sam, and were given some painkillers for it. It didn't seem to work that well.

"How're you feeling?" Dean pats your foot, walking past the sofa to perch himself on the very little space left on the armrest. "I feel like I've been shot in two different areas," You try to joke, but it only makes Dean glare at you, waiting for a real answer.

"Could you get me some period pads, or tampons, please? Either work," You state, trying to sit up. "Uh, yeah, I can do that. What... size?" Dean looks puzzled, which only makes you smile. "Regular, Dean. Get the ones with wings."

Dean stands up and gathers his thoughts. "Pads with wings. Tampons with wings. Got it. I think." He places his hands on his hips and looks to the ground, then to you. He smiles lovingly. "I'll be right back." He says, before grabbing his flannel and exiting the door.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

An hour or so had gone by, and you hadn't moved from the sofa. your cramps have worsened to the point of also giving you a headache. You hear the door open, then close. Dean's back from the store, and he's got a white carrier bag full of items. "I'm back," He chuckles, "Got you a few things." He walks up to the sofa, laying the bag on the coffee table next to you. "Oh, Dean, you didn't have to..." You trail, as he takes out chocolate, a small teddy bear with a t-shirt that reads 'Get Well Soon' with a small red heart underneath it. He had also bought you the pads that you had asked for, aspirin, fresh bandages for your leg and a small bunch of red roses.

Your smile gleamed as your eyes met his. "You really didn't have to." Your voice almost a whisper, and he moves closer to you. "I know, but I wanted to." He smiles, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

"Thank you." You say, reaching your hand up to the nape of his neck, pulling him in for one more.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagines #spn imagines #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester #sam winchester imagines #supernatural imagine #dean x reader #supernatural dean #deanxreader #dean #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #sam x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfic #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #spn imagine

[uhohnotthisagain]

Admiring Sam - Headcannon

Time when you admired your boyfriend Sam.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Characters: Sam, Reader, Dean, ghost

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: cuteness?, mentions of sex, mentions of injury, mentions of ghosts, no swearing.

My masterlist

Whilst doing research:

You’re sitting around a table in a motel room, only undressed the top layers of the FBI suits that you, Sam and Dean were wearing whilst investigating the current case. You’re sitting opposite Sam, Dean next to you. 

At first you were concentrating, but then you looked at Sam in the corner of your vision, which lead to him taking up all of your attention. 

You tried to keep looking busy, but with the way he was sitting; shirt sleeve rolled up, hair a mess from running fingers through it, hunched over the computer with a look of concentration on his face. He looked both adorable and hot at the same time. 

Within a few moments, he looks up at you, feeling the holes you were burning into him with your eyes. He smiles at you, which you return with a blush, slightly disappointed you got caught. 

He sneakily reaches under the table undetected by his brother sitting next to him, rubbing your leg as a form of comfort and love. 

In bed: 

You were both resting in bed after having had sex. 

You splurged on your own room, needing some much needed privacy after a semi gruesome hunt. 

You were both laying on your back, the only sound to be heard were yours and Sam’s rapid breathing. His hand was holding yours, gently stroking the back of it with his thumb. 

You turned your head to look at him, taking not of the way his hair splayed out under him. 

He looked relaxed, eyes were closed, trying to control his breathing, an ever so slight smile on his face. 

He opened his eyes, turning his head to look at you. 

His smile widened when he noticed you staring. 

“I love you.” He whispers. 

You smile, about to respond when he rolls back over to you, holding himself up on his forearms, dipping his head to kiss you, deepening it almost immediately. 

“Ready for another round?” He asks, grabbing hold of your thighs to wrap around his waist. 

When he’s asleep:

For once, you woke up before Sam. 

He usually woke up before you, going for a run and usually bringing you back a coffee to wake you up with. 

This time, you were awake, so you got to appreciate him without him catching you. 

His breathing was even, face so soft and relaxed. A small amount of stubble had grown overnight. His soft hair had fallen into his face. 

You brushed your finger along his face, moving his hair out of the way. You continued to trace his features, committing his face to memory. You traced over his eyebrows, nose and mouth. Along his jawline and hairline. 

With a sigh, he moves, wrapping his arms more tightly around you waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“You know thats a little creepy, right?” He whispers, eyes remaining closed. 

You chuckle softly, continuing your tracings. “Good morning handsome.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

He finally opens his eyes, and you stare into them, getting lost in them almost immediately. 

You already had his eyes committed to memory. 

When he saves you:

You’re in and out of consciousness, laying on the floor, unable to move. 

It was a ghost, and despite having already burned the body, it hadn’t disappeared. 

It had attacked you, after running out of rocksalt in your gun. 

“Y/N! Are you okay?” You heard from nearby

You groaned in response, nodding slightly to allow whoever it was to keep fighting and not worry about you. 

As your vision clears, you see Sam looking all around, trying to find the ghost to keep it away from you. 

Finally, as it appeared right in front of Sam, it burst into flames, screaming in the process. 

Sam rushes to you, inspecting all your injuries and determining whether to take you to the hospital or home. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to get you to stay awake. 

“I think so, I just need a minute.” You say, trying to sit up. 

“Guys, so it was a doll that the spirit was attached to. But there was like a hundred dolls, so we need to go now if we don’t want to get caught on fire.” Dean rushes in. 

“Can you walk?” Sam asks, you shake your head. 

He picks you up bridal style, Dean following quickly behind with the weapons you and Sam had dropped. 

Once at the car, Sam gets in the back with you, wanting to make sure you were ok. 

“I think its just some bruises and a small concussion, you should be alright.” He says, stroking your hair as you lean against him. 

You look up towards him, giving a small kiss to his jawline. “Thank you. I love you.” 

“Anytime, beautiful.”

Dean groans from the front seat. “Get a room you two.” Sam rolls his eyes, but you spot the small smile on Dean’s face in the rearview mirror, happy to see his brother getting the love he deserves. 

#sam winchester #supernatural imagines #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester imagines #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn #spn imagine

[harmonity-vibes]

Imagine

You see Father Dean and Father Sam outside your door. What do you do?

#fictional characters #imagines #fictional boyfriend #jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #spn imagine #fictional crushes #spn fanfic #dean w x y/n #sam winchester #jaredpadelcki #sam winchester imagines #sam and dean #sammy #sam winchester x reader

[writings-of-a-demigod]

“So..”

“No.”

“But…”

“No.”

“I didn’t eve……”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ugggh this is unbelievable.”

“Well, you better start believing.”

The glare you gave him was like daggers.

“You can glare all you want still not happening.” He turned the page of the book he was reading.

“I’m an adult I can do whatever I want.”

The laugh he let out “No, you actually can’t.”

“Dean this is ridiculous!” You stood up and faced him “I’m doing this and you just have to deal with it.”

He put his book down and stared at you. For your entire life you knew what was coming after this look. It’s gonna end up messy, loud and some words will be thrown out to hurt each other’s feeling. What surprised you was his tone.

“Sit down let’s have a talk like normal people.” He faced you.

Giving you his full attention “Now tell me why would you want this?”

You took a deep breath; you’re going to explain this very calmly and if this doesn’t work you can just burst the waterworks and yell.

“Dean we never had a place where we could call ours, our home. But now we do.” You started.

“I’ve never really wanted anything more than this, I’ve been saving money just to get it and now I have a place to keep it.”

“But it’s dangerous.” He told you.

You smiled at him “Dean our whole life is dangerous that didn’t stop us from hunting and helping people.” You gave him your puppy eyes.

“Please all I’m asking is to consider it. I can wait for a while.”

He sighed and took hold of your hand to give it a kiss “Ok, I’ll give it a thought.”

You stood up and hugged him tightly. That’s when the door closed with a loud thud and footsteps coming down the stairs.

“What’s happening here?” Sam asked looking confused at the two of you hugging.

“Nothing just having a normal conversation.” You detached from Dean.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound normal. You two having a conversation and nothing is on fire yet? You’re creeping me out.”

Dean smiled at his brother “What can I say?” you two shared a look “I guess we’ve grown.”

Sam raised his eyebrow “Yeah I’m still not convinced.”   

 “Don’t overthink it Sammy.” Dean patted Sam’s back while walking going to make lunch. You followed him.

“So what was the talk about?” Sam asked while his brother gave him his back.

“Oh about Y/n getting a motorcycle.” Dean smirked.

“Oh HELL NO! OVER MY DEADBODY.” You heard Sam’s voice and just know the pissed expression on his face. “Y/N GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

#writings-of-a-demigod #supernatural #supernatural imagines #dean winchester x sister reader #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester x sister reader #sam winchester imagines #imagines

[teenwolfmarvel-obsessor]

Taken

Full Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

Summary: After hanging out at the bar for a bit, you and the boys decide to head back to the motel. While Dean is in the restroom, you and Sam walk to the Impala parked outside. Of course, neither one of you would've suspected to get taken.

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Set during episode 15 of season one (The Benders)

Warnings:

Language

Mention of blood, injuries, etc...

Sam Winchester x-reader

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom. Why don't you two meet me at the car," Dean said, pointing behind him. I nodded and shut Sam's laptop. Me and Sam headed over to the front of the bar. "All I'm saying is Star Trek is way better than Star Wars," Sam said. Sam stepped aside as he held the door open for me. "I never said one was better than the other. You said that all on your own," I said, patting his shoulder.

Sam scoffed and shook his head. The two of us walked over to the Impala to wait for Dean. It was pitch dark outside now, surprising me since I didn't think we were out for that long. I set my hands into the pockets of my jeans, a gust of wind brushing past me. "I told you to bring a jacket," Sam said. "I didn't think it would be this cold," I replied.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys from his pocket. The Impala was parked on the side next to this rickety van. It had these weird wooden panels on the side, extending to the back. Sam stopped walking when he heard a sound from ahead of us. "What?" I said. He reached over and grabbed my hand, bringing me to his side.

I noticed him look to the right and then left. "Sam," I said, clearing my throat. He let go of my hand to look underneath the car. He sighed in relief when it was just a cat making the sound. "Seriously? First clowns, and now cats?" I said, my hands on my hips. Sam shot me a look before walking to the other side of the car.

My chuckle at his expression stopped when I heard the sound again. This time it seemed closer. "Okay, you don't have to make fun of me that much," Sam said, setting his notebook on the back of the car to fix his jacket. I held up my hand when the sound repeated.

"Y/N/N, what?" Sam said, taking notice of my expression. A cold hand grabbed my ankle, dragging me down to the damp concrete. All I heard was Sam's screams before everything went black.

(Third Person View)

Dean walked out of the bar to meet Y/N and Sam. He sighed, shivering when he, too, realized how cold it was. Dean's brows furrowed when he saw the leather notebook on the back of his car along with Y/N's purse. "What the..." he muttered. Dean opened the passenger seat, thinking that maybe they were just playing some cruel prank on him.

He slammed the door shut and turned around. "Sam! Y/N!" he shouted but didn't get a reply. Dean sighed heavily and walked around the parking lot. "Have you seen anyone else in the last five minutes?" he asked someone. The woman shook his head and went back to speaking with his biker friends.

"Y/N/N! Sammy!" Dean yelled again, now standing in the middle of the street. Dean threw his arms up in the air. His eyes caught sight of a camera directed at the road. He ran back to the car.

_______

(Later - Y/N's Point of View)

My eyes slowly adjusted to the dull light wherever the hell I was. I went to sit up, but my head hit something. It was then I noticed I was in some sort of cage. My hands and knees had been scratched, as well as my elbows.

There was a slight mildewy smell in the air around me. My face scrunched up from the terrible scents. I gathered some strength to try and reach my hand through the bars, hoping that I could get a good grasp at whatever was keeping me in here. "That's not gonna work," a man said from the cage beside mine.

I looked over at the source of the sound and recognized who it was. Mr. Jenkins, the man me and the boys had been searching for. "Mr. Jenkins?" I said.

"Yeah?" the man responded. I sighed and leaned back against the panel behind me. "Where are we?" I asked. The man shrugged his shoulders with his hands holding onto the bars tightly. "No fuckin' clue," he said, "They come in and out, feeding us whatever." My brows furrowed at the last part of his sentence.

"Us?" I asked.

Mr. Jenskins nodded and sniffled. He crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the metal. "Yeah, kid over there. Sleeping. They threw him in here shortly after you," Mr. Jenkins answered, "Wouldn't stop yelling for some girl named Y/N." I looked at Mr. Jenkins. It was hard to see his face, but I could make out a bunch of bruises and cuts.

He slowly pointed a finger at the cage across from me. I found a familiar-looking head of hair leaning against the wall. "Sam?" I said, "Sam!" My friend slowly sat up from where he laid, slowly adjusting like I did. His eyes met mine.

"You okay?" he asked. I shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing how to respond. Sam nodded and looked at the door on the other side of the room. "So, is this our normal...." I trailed. Sam shook his head. "No. They're just people. Just crazy, stupid people," he answered.

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better," I sighed heavily. I heard Sam chuckle with his head leaning against the wall. I reached my arm between the bars, leaning forward as best as I could. Sam looked up, finally being able to lace his fingers with mine. He squeezed my hand reassuringly.

He ran a thumb along the side of my hand. "You think Dean is looking for us?" I asked. "Of course he is. He's probably already losing it," Sam replied, earning a laugh from me. Our hands separated when the door opened up on the side. Two tall men walked in, carrying platters of food.

The steel trap door lifted from my side of the cage. A metal plate slid in filled with disgusting-looking food. Mr. Jenkins dove for his food. I knew I was hungry, but whatever was on that plate seemed like something I probably shouldn't eat. I pushed the plate aside, not wanting to look at it for another second.

_______

I hugged my legs with my head resting on my knee. The longer I was in here, the more desperate and frightened I became. It also didn't help that Mr. Jenkins escaped just a few hours ago. All Sam and I had heard was a loud scream and then a gunshot. But, thankfully, we had made progress on our own escape.

Sam discovered that there was some sort of button that controlled how the cages opened. There was an electrical box on the side, but you needed a key to unlock everything. While we were alone, I pulled down a bar from above and hid it in the corner of the cage with some straw.

And the more I sat here, the more I noticed how much my body ached. The cuts on my hands, knees, and elbows hadn't even been touched up. It stung every time I tried to sit up. And every time I winced, Sam looked my way with a concerned look on his face. "I'm fine," I'd tell him.

Although knowing him, that response wasn't really convincing. Neither one of us knew how long we'd been here. I'd guess a few hours or so. But from the little sunlight we had, it might've been a day, honestly.

"Okay, I'm thinking of a number between one and six," Sam spoke.

I yawned, sighing. "Um, three?" my voice was hushed. "Close enough. It was four," Sam said. It fell quiet again, but that silence was interrupted when the men from earlier came in with a woman dragging behind them.

They opened the cage beside mine, throwing her in. Sam and I watched as they left without saying a word to us. We exchanged a look.

______

"Y/N?" Sam said. I opened my eyes to see him speaking with the woman who was thrown into the cage beside me. She softly smiled, waving to me. "This is Kathleen. She and Dean were looking for us," Sam said. I looked at her with a smile, realizing that if she was here, then that meant that Dean was here.

As on cue, the door opened up, but neither one of us were able to figure out who it was until they walked further into the room. "Dean?" Sam said. "Boy, am I glad to see you two," Dean said, chuckling. He walked over to Sam, checking if he was alright before turning to me.

I nodded, letting him know I was alright, which wasn't the entire truth. "How did you get out of the handcuffs?" Kathleen asked. "I know a thing or two," Dean winked. He looked around the room to see if there was anything that could help get us out.

"There's a control panel over there," I pointed. Dean nodded and stepped to the area where I directed him to. He opened the cover, but his shoulders dropped when he realized that a key was needed. "It's some automatic control," Sam said. "Who are they?" Dean asked.

"They're just people," I answered. Dean nodded and closed the control panel. He sighed with his hands on his hips. "What do they want?" Dean asked. "We're not sure. They let Jenkins go, but that didn't end well," I answered.

He looked behind him at the door. Dean said he didn't see anything outside other than a couple cars. After discovering the panel needed a key, Dean told us he'd be right back with the key if he could find it, but it was Dean he'd find a way either way. And now there was just more waiting.

A couple minutes passed, and Dean hadn't come back. I grabbed the bar I pulled off to see if that would help. I stood up from the ground and lifted the bar, trying to pry off whatever I could. "Y/N/N, what're you doing?" Sam asked. "No idea," I gritted my teeth as I held the bar.

My hands began to hurt at my tight grip. I tossed it to the side when the cuts on my palms stung. "You alright, Y/N?" Kathleen asked. "Yeah, there's just some cuts on my hands," I answered, waving my hand like that would stop the sensation. Sam looked at me. I softly smiled to keep his worries from getting the best of him.

The door opened with a creaking sound. We looked in that direction in hopes that it was Dean coming back with the key. Turns out, it was the man from earlier. He walked over to the side, and the door to Sam's cage opened.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked.

I saw the man grab Sam's arm, roughly bringing him up from the ground. "Sam!" I shouted. I pushed the bar through the openings. Sam barely grabbed it before it was too late. Sam hit the man in the back, causing him to stumble forward. Sam was able to take the man's gun to hit him on the back of his head.

Sam breathed heavily as one of our capturers laid unconscious on the ground. He threw the gun and walked over to the panel. Sam helped me out, not hesitating to wrap his arms around me. "I'm okay, I'm okay," I repeated. I felt him squeeze me for a second before letting go.

Kathleen and I set the man into one of the cages, locking him in there. "Now what?" I asked, sighing. "This way," Kathleen said and led us into another room. Before leaving, I grabbed the gun from earlier.

The officer who helped Dean went the opposite way, stating that she needed to take care of something. The large barn door opened at the end of the room. Sam grabbed my hand, bringing me to the ground beside him. The two of us hid behind a tall bail of hay.

"Lee, where are you?" an older man called, but there was no response. He told the other person who came with him to get the lights. "Shit," Sam muttered. All of the lights in the barn quickly flashed.

We fought our way out of the barn. Sam's hand stayed intertwined with mine as we met Kathleen. "You two go ahead. I'll take care of him," she said, gesturing to the father, who was on the ground. Sam and I nodded, making our way into the house. Dean stood in the living room and jumped when the two of us entered.

"Where's the girl?" I asked. "In the closet," Dean answered, sighing. We didn't ask questions and stepped outside to meet Kathleen. "State police and FBI are gonna be here in about an hour. And, they're gonna want to talk to you," she sighed, "So, I suggest the three of you leave before they get here."

The three of us nodded in response. "Don't mean to press my luck, but mind giving us a ride?" Dean asked, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car," Kathleen said before turning around to walk away.

________

(Later - At The Motel)

"Quit moving," I repeated, "I can't help you if you keep moving." Sam purposefully moved his head just to anger me. Dean lightly chuckled from the opposite bed. I hit Sam's leg, causing him to hit me back. I finished helping him with the cut on his face. "How's your hand?" Sam asked, gesturing to the cut on my palm.

I looked down at my hand that I wrapped just a few minutes ago. "It's okay," I answered, "Nothing I can't handle." Sam softly smiled (GIF Above) and looked up at me. Dean watched the two of us from the other side. He let out a sigh and stood up from the bed. "Okay, well, while the two of you stare into each other's eyes. I'm going to see what the motel has to offer in the finest of vending machines," he said.

He grabbed his wallet and left the room. He closed the door behind him. I chuckled to myself and cleaned up the first aid kit. "You sure you're okay?" Sam asked. "I'm sure," I replied and kissed him on the cheek. I got up from the bed to throw away some wrapping from the bandages.

"You know, that food probably wasn't actual food," Sam mentioned. I shivered at the thought, looking over my shoulder at him. He laughed when he took notice of my disgusted expression. "Wow, way to ruin the moment," I said. He let out a small laugh again and leaned back on the bed.

Taglist: @nix-rose @nyotamalfoy

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x-reader #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst