#sam drabble

summary: you spend new years eve with sam. he decides he wants to end the year with a bang; figuratively and physically. word count: 663 pairing: sam winchester x reader

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

You sit at the long table in the library, a mug warming your hands. The clock on the wall ticks loud enough to echo through the cold, metal walls.

Sam stands a few feet away, flipping through a lore book he’s not actually reading. You can tell because he’s been on the same page for five minutes. His brow is furrowed, hair falling into his eyes, sleeves pushed up like he forgot about them hours ago.

“You’re gonna memorize that page if you keep staring at it,” you say.

He blinks, then smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

He closes the book and sets it aside, finally looking at you. When Sam looks at you like that: soft, attentive, like you’re something fragile and important at the same time—it makes your chest ache.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Feels wrong to sleep through the end of the year.”

Sam nods. “Yeah. I get that.”

He moves closer, pulling out the chair beside you and sitting down. His knee brushes yours under the table, and neither of you move away.

Outside the bunker, the world is celebrating. Fireworks, crowds, noise. Down here, it’s just the two of you and the steady passage of time.

“I used to hate New Year’s,” Sam admits quietly.

You glance at him. “Used to?”

He exhales. “It always felt like… everyone else was moving forward. And I was just... stuck. Or running.”

You think about the man sitting next to you. About the year he lost himself. About the year he fought his way back. About how hard he’s worked just to be here.

“And now?” you ask.

Sam looks at you, really looks. His eyes soften in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Now I feel like I made it,” he says. “Like… maybe I didn’t miss everything.”

Your heart stutters. “Sam...”

The clock clicks over to 11:58.

Neither of you speak. There’s too much in the air already—too many words hovering just out of reach.

Sam’s hand shifts on the table, inching closer to yours. His fingers brush your knuckles, tentative, like he’s testing the ground before stepping forward.

“You don’t have to—” you start.

“I know,” he says gently. “I just… want to.”

So you let him.

Your fingers lace together, and Sam exhales like he’s been holding that breath for months. His thumb rubs slow circles over your skin, grounding, familiar.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“For staying,” he says. “For not giving up on me. Even when I wasn’t really… here.”

Your throat tightens. “You never left.”

The TV in the corner flickers to life with a countdown you didn’t realize was on.

Ten.

Sam glances at the screen, then back to you. Something shifts in his expression—resolve, mixed with a little fear.

Nine.

“You know,” he says softly, “I’m not great at timing.”

You smile. “You’re doing okay.”

Eight.

He squeezes your hand. “If I don’t say this now, I’m gonna talk myself out of it.”

Seven.

Your heart pounds.

Six.

“I love you,” Sam says.

The words land gently, but they hit you right in the heart.

Five.

You don’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

Four.

Relief floods his face, bright and overwhelming. He laughs quietly, disbelieving.

Three.

He leans in, slow enough to give you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Two.

His lips meet yours in a kiss that’s tender and sure, like he’s been practicing it in his head for a long time. One hand cups your cheek, warm and steady, grounding you in the moment.

One.

The year changes around you.

Fireworks crackle faintly aboveground. Cheers echo from the TV. But all you hear is Sam’s breath, all you feel is the way he kisses you like this is a promise, not just a celebration.

When you pull back, he rests his forehead against yours, smiling like he finally let himself be happy.

“Happy New Year,” he whispers.

You smile back. “Happy New Year, Sammy.”

Prompt: They cuddle with you in the morning.

It was a rest day for both you and Sam and that meant one of your favourite things in the world: sleeping in. There was nothing that could beat your bedsheets draped over you, and there being no reason for you to get up, taking your time as Sam was lying next to you, his arms wrapped around you, giving you a sense of safety. Your hands found his forearms, pulling him tighter around you as you let out a contented sigh. The warmth that his body provided, his chest pressed against your back, and his breath touching your skin as he nuzzled into your neck, helped you survive the colder days that had come upon you as the trees shed their leaves. When you heard Sam stirring awake behind you with a groan, you easily turned yourself around to face him, his arms found a comfortable position as yours wrapped around his neck. You pressed a slow and chaste kiss to his forehead. "Good morning," You whispered to him as you grabbed the blankets to cover the both of you better, not letting any sort of cold breeze in. A smile gracing his lips as you cuddle into him.

"You didn't force me, I volunteered to be here remember?"

With Sam, please?

Thank you 💜

I seriously feel like I'm going to pass out. The dizziness that's wrapped around my cranium threatens every step as I painstakingly make my way to the counter, hand over the clipboard to the receptionist with a weak smile.

"Are you sure you're okay, sweetie?" she asks, eyeing me up and down. "We can get you back sooner if-"

"I'm good, tis' just a scratch," I cut in, words a bit slurred as I wave her off with the arm that's not cradled against my chest. I turn to go back to my seat and feel gravity begin to win its war against me just as a strong arm wraps around my shoulders, hugs me securely to a warm chest.

"Woah, easy there," Sam says, helping me balance out again as he leads me back to my seat in the waiting room. He leans his head down to my level. "Maybe that 'booze to take the edge off' wasn't the best idea," he whispers.

Square Filled: OOC

Characters: Sam x OFC (Natalie); Dean and Crowley mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Sam’s life has taken a decisive turn.

Word Count: 912

Created for @howbadcanitbebingo​

A/N: I’m so excited about posting something for the first time in months. Writing has been tough, but I hope this is the first of more to come. It’s a drabble, but it’s done! I haven’t written anything quite like this before. Thanks for the OOC square @howbadcanitbebingo​ . 

I tried. Honestly, I did, but sometimes it just isn’t worth it anymore. Dean is done. Because of him, I kept on fighting everything that goes bump in the night, all the evil, every twisted thing imaginable for far longer than I otherwise would have. If I’d known things would end up like this, maybe I would have let him do it without me.

You can call me 🦡 if you’d like, I prolly won’t submit often but I’m always here reading 💛

🦡……. Why? Why must you do this? I mean this is such a good idea, but like…. Why? Idea is pulled from this post here. But also, everyone welcome to yet another edition of “Y/N gets blown up by a creeper because they weren’t paying attention.” We stan consistency on this blog huh? (P.S. This is it for tonight haha. Hope you enjoy)

So Sam is at home but he has been working for a really long time. Dream had paid him all of those diamonds to build the prison and he’d been at work, messing with redstone and testing everything for a very long time with no sleep. So he’s been messing with this one contraption for probably four hours now and he cannot get it to work and he is growing frustrated. He can feel his anger swelling in his veins and before he knows it, he’s hissing. Finally, finally he gets everything in place and for a moment the device works!.... But only for a moment. The machine sputters to a stop and then there is a pop. Sam rushes over to fix it and as he touches it, something swings loose and smashes his hand. And it’s all too much for Sam. He lets out a curse before turning and running out of the house, trying to get to the one place he knows he can blow up safely. 

As he’s running out of the house, he doesn’t notice, but he runs past you. You are aware that he has been working for super long but you have no idea that he’s that upset. You have no idea where he’s going and he didn’t even stop to say hi to you, which clues you something is wrong. So you rise from the couch and you follow him, “Sam?” you ask as you follow him out, no response. So you silently follow behind him as he makes his way to an open field. He stops abruptly and you can see his shoulder’s heaving. You approach him from behind and move your hand up to rest on his shoulder, “Sam?” you ask softly again. But the next thing you know, there is a loud noise and you are being flung back across the field, white hot pain searing your skin as you fly and once you hit the ground your vision goes dark and you’re passed out, but not dead.

Dean’s crying, gripping his shoulder, lost to shock. And when he finally calms down enough to tell Sam and Jack what happens, Sam is taken aback. Cas is family and their best friend, but after everyone they’ve lost, he’s never seen Dean this broken.

It was hurting Sam to look at him. To see his older brother, his anchor, breaking down and mourning, even going as far as to not change out of his bloody clothes before curling into his bed.

He didn’t get it at first. His mind was still buzzing with the anxiety, and coming to terms with the loss of the day as he tried to console a sobbing Jack. 

Then, as he’s tucking Jack into bed that night, it hits him like a spray of cold water. A newfound clarity that framed the day’s event’s in a new light, one that made sense of Dean’s state. 

Sam hadn’t recongised the look on Dean’s face because he’d been trying to hide the very reaction all day. From the minute he picked up Eileen’s phone to then, he was bottling up his heartache and the feeling of hopelessness that was consuming his will from the inside out. 

Dean was a lover in mourning like himself. It didn’t come as a surprise, those two are clearly in love, but when did they work it out? Oh.

As the dots connected in his head, Sam felt a wave of sadness swallow him whole. Running a hand through his hair, he settled himself on the couch in Jack’s room for the night. 

This can’t be the end, he thought. We’ll get them back. We’ll get them all back.

requested by/for: @deanthepielover​ !! ty darling, sorry it took me so long!! hope my fellow shorties enjoy :3

-

It’s not an unusual sight to stumble upon in the mornings: Sam waiting, bleary-eyed, for his coffee while you sit on the island across from him.

You’ve shared a few quiet words and gentle kisses in bed, but it always takes a warm cup of joe before he’s able to hold a real conversation. The smell of the dark roasted beans is enough for you, sometimes, igniting a certain warmth in your chest that only cozy Sundays can bring. No hunts on the schedule, no long drives to endure for hours on end with cramped limbs and the same cassettes on repeat.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warning: mentions of past abusive relationship, anxiety, fluff

*gif not mine*

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My phone dropped onto the floor of the bunker with a clatter, my hands shaking.

Sam looked up from the library table where he was poring over another lore book. “Y/N?”

When I didn’t respond, he pulled back his chair and made his way to me as I struggled to try to get my shaking hands under control before he reached me.

“Y/N? You okay?”

I dragged my eyes up to his hazel ones that were outpouring with concern. Sam’s gaze flicked to my phone before back at me again, as if he was deciding what to do next. The next minute, he had pulled me into a tight embrace, gently pressing me into his chest.

“Breathe, Y/N. It’s okay.” He whispered, before I realised the constricting of my chest was because I couldn’t. “Sam, I…” I choked but he just tightened his arms around me. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I took a gasp of breath as I felt oxygen flow back into my lungs.

“That’s my girl.” Sam whispered and I could almost see the small smile playing on his lips in my mind’s eye.

Slowly, Sam tugged away to study my face. “Do you want to talk about it?” I looked up at him and quietly reached for his hand. He squeezed my hand gently and bent down to take my phone. “Come on.” Sam gently tugged me into the direction of his room.

By the time, we had walked the short distance to his room, I was starting to feel a little embarrassed about my mini meltdown. I perched at the edge of his bed, my eyes cast downwards, staring at my hands which I was already wringing together.

Quietly, Sam crouched in front of me, putting his large warm hands over mine to stop the action.

Before I knew it, I was babbling. “We dated for a few months but he got all controlling, even physical… and I think he’s been following me… us… for some time…” Sam picked up the phone that was lying next to me, his expression darkening as he scrolled through the history of messages.

“Sam, I’m really scared.” My voice was barely louder than a whisper and I could feel my ears prickling with tears.