#imaginingsupernatural
Author:hogwartsismyhometoo
Word Count: 1,630
Read Part (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)
Dean
Dean called everyone into the kitchen the next day, disguising his true intentions behind the promise of greasy, sizzling bacon and fried eggs with plump yolks. He tried to focus on the hot pan in front of him, but it was hard not to look at Y/N instead, her sneaking grins at him every few seconds and winking.
Sam, Cas, and Charlie all got there about the same time, taking their seats around the table. Sam ruffled Y/N’s hair before he sat down across from her, and Dean had to turn away to hide his wide smile. She was already part of the family, this would just make it official.
“What brought this on?” Sam asked as Dean set a full plate in front of him. He looked confused, but happily so, half-smiling up at Dean with furrowed eyebrows. “You haven’t cooked in weeks.
Dean shrugged nonchalantly, getting himself a plate once everyone else had been served. He sat down next to Y/N and reached for her hand under the table. Apparently she’d been thinking the same thing, because she found his immediately and squeezed, the diamond of her ring rubbing up against his callused skin.
“Just felt like an eggs and bacon kinda day,” he said. “But Y/N and I have something to tell you.”
The scraping of silverware on plates stopped, everyone looking up at them. Cas’ fork hung in the air between the table and his mouth, steaming egg drooping off the end of it.
“You want to say it?” Dean murmured to Y/N, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.
She nodded, her lips pressed together the same way they always were when she tried to stop herself from beaming. She gave his hand another squeeze and gently pulled hers away from his, resting it on the table for the others to see. Here, under the bright spotlight of the kitchen, the diamond glittered like a thousand suns.
“We’re getting married.”
Charlie leaped from her chair with a squeal, knocking it over, and was at Y/N’s side in an instant. She threw her arms around her, saying, “I knew it! I knew it! I shipped you guys from the start!”
Dean laughed at the two of them until he felt Sam’s gaze too strongly to ignore. He looked hesitantly at his little brother, but though his smile was small, his eyes were bright and wet. “Congratulations,” he said quietly. “I can’t think of a better match than you two.”
“Thanks man.” Dean’s voice was suddenly tight and hoarse as he clapped Sam’s shoulder, his throat constricted.
He was getting married. He was getting married to the most beautiful woman in the world. She would be Mrs. Winchester. They would be the start of a whole new kind of family, something rich and magical. His mind filled with images of him flipping burgers on the grill in the backyard of a suburban house while Y/N chased a little boy or girl in the grass. Daydreams of her holding up a child to look outside at the starry sky in search of Rudolph as Dean stuffed the stockings. His imagination showed him years of watching their kid grow up in front of their eyes as they grew older together, sitting by the fire with a book and a blanket, the two of them together in a happy, peaceful silence.
He pulled himself out of it just as Y/N caught his eye and beamed at him for the first time that morning. Her eyes were full of enough life to power the earth, bright and twinkling and filling him with the spark of a match struck. Soon his insides were a blazing fire.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Cas spoke for the first time, carefully setting down his fork. “At human weddings, there is someone called an officiant, correct?”
“Yes, Cas,” Y/N said, one arm still around Charlie, who’d taken the seat next to her. “They’re the ones who make the marriage happen.”
He nodded slowly. “I see. And this person—they are a religious leader?”
“Usually, yeah.” Dean couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t stopped twisting the ring around her finger since Charlie had pulled away. It sent a surge of energy through him. “Most of the time they’re priests or ministers.”
He nodded again, staring intently at the table as he mulled this over, the wrinkled brow and slightly parted lips showing his confusion. “Then if I may, could I suggest myself as your … officiant? I do have a closer connection to God than any minister could ever have.”
Dean laughed. “Sure, Cas,” he said, smirking. “I’d be happy to have you as our officiant.”
“Well as long as we’re making wedding plans,” Y/N said, glancing at Dean before turning back to Charlie. “Charlie, would you be my maid of honor?”
Charlie squealed again and said something in such a high-pitched voice, Dean couldn’t make out what it was. She almost tackled Y/N in her rush to hug her. Dean shook his head a little at the two of them, giggling and speaking at the same time about the wedding. He looked back at Sam.
“Sam,” he started quietly. “Would you—”
“Yes,” Sam said, before Dean had even finished.
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“Yes,” he said again. “You don’t have to ask.”
Dean threw his hands up in the air and said, “Hey, I won’t argue you agreeing to be our indentured servant for the foreseeable future.”
Sam rolled his eyes, then said, “Dean, seriously, I’d be honored.”
Dean swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes prickling. “Thanks, Sammy.”
Y/N
The wedding was small. There weren’t many people Dean and I wanted to invite besides Sam, Cas, and Charlie—who were all already part of the wedding anyway—but Jody came with Alex. And Garth and his wife, and even Claire. Everyone looked stunning, sparkling and blood-free, genuine smiles on their faces. I couldn’t remember the last time everyone had looked so happy.
The whole time I was getting ready with Charlie’s help, walking down the aisle, standing barely a foot away from Dean dressed in a tux with his bright green eyes filled with tears, I was reminded of that quote from “Lilo and Stitch.” The one about family that Stitch says: “This is my family. I found it all on my own. It’s little and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.” That was how I felt in that moment. That was how I’d felt all along.
The vows, the kiss—quickly followed by more squeals from Charlie and a wolf whistle from Garth—, walking away from the park bathed in sunshine and endless summer days, passed by in the blink of an eye. The others knew better then to write anything on the Impala, but they could resist putting up a sign in the back window that said, “Just Married!” and a few streamers off the back of the car.
When we drove back to the bunker—me beaming and rubbing my thumb across the back of his hand, Dean smiling softly—and got out of the car, Dean scooped me up. I squealed and clung to him so I wouldn’t fall, but his strong arms held me steady.
“What are you doing?” I giggled, voice trailing off at the end as I stared up at him, hand cupping his cheek. I traced my fingers along the side of his face, marvelling at just how much of the universe lived in his eyes. I saw a thousand stars in a thousand galaxies, bright and endless and waiting to be explored. His gaze locked onto me, freezing me in place.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Winchester,” he whispered.
“I’ve always been home,” I whispered back.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, pulling me closer against him. My fingers stopped their tracing, tangling in his hair instead. I could see him even with my eyes closed, the feel of him painting the perfect picture. A hint of stubble tickling my smooth skin, his breath mingling with mine, his arms wrapped around me and keeping me warm like a roaring fire at Christmastime.
When he pulled away, I felt like I was waking up from a wonderful dream, half-asleep in a golden haze at eleven a.m. with nothing but a day of lying in bed ahead of me. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes appeared as he smiled.
“I’m glad you saved us that night,” he murmured.
“Well I’m glad you didn’t stand me up.” I nuzzled my face against his neck as he carried me inside and down the steps.
“I’d have to be stupid to stand you up.”
I flushed and grinned against his skin at his words, remembering how he’d said almost those exact same words to me on the first day we met. It was like no time had passed at all, yet we’d spent eternity together all at once.
“I love you,” he said as he laid me down on the bed.
I smiled, feeling like pure sunshine was radiating from every cell in our bodies, and cupped his cheek. “I love you, too.”
Dean
It was three weeks after they’d gotten back from the honeymoon. Dean was sitting on their bed, checking his e-mail on his laptop. Y/N was in the bathroom, taking a little longer to get ready than usual. He’d been about to call out to her to make sure everything was okay when she opened the door.
Her eyes had been wide and shiny. Her mouth had been halfway open with unspoken words. Her hands had been shaking as she held the stick so he could see.
The strip had been pink.
Imagine Sam making you feel better when you feel ugly.
Author:and-be-loved-in-return-xx
Requested By: ca-stiel
Word Count: 1,250
You stood in front of your wide floor length antique mirror that sat it your room of the bunker, you had never had so much detestation for an everyday house hold object (even cursed ones). That was actually wrong, you only hated what the mirror showed. It showed your flaws, something you were already intensely aware of but it was one hundred times worse them being laid out in front of you. You had never had great body confidence throughout your teenage years, but since you had started hunting with the Winchester’s your confidence and insecurities had improved, it was something to distract you but also made you feel like you were actually doing something worthwhile, something that you were good at; and Dean’s winks and flirtatious comments didn’t hurt either.
However, today those- what you thought were- minor insecurities had all come crashing back, making you sick in your stomach, you could feel them wriggling, swirling around your insides. You’d just returned from a hunt involving a particularly cantankerous Pagan God who only sacrifices young women. Of course, this involved interviewing many of the victims young and pretty friends and watching both Sam and Dean get flustered and lustful at their gorgeous figures, flowing hair and confident personas, it had left you feeling more self-conscious and down than you’d been in months.
You sighed dejectedly, a hideous feeling in your gut as you dragged your eyes up your chubby figure and in vain tried to suck your stomach in and pull it back; of course it didn’t help. “You look like shit, (Y/N),” you said to your reflection a look of disgust on your face.
You’re heart dropped as you heard a sigh from behind you, turning your head begrudgingly you were greeted with the sight of Sam, stood leaning against the door frame. Your face went hot as you blushed, you hadn’t realized he was stood there and he heard you making a comment to yourself, he was bound to want to talk about it and that would make this worse.
“Sam,” you said trying to make your voice sound casual and not let it shake, “I didn’t realize you were there.”
“I was coming to give you this,” he held out the steaming cup of coffee awkwardly before placing it on the dresser, you really wanted him to leave or for you to leave, he was looking down at you, almost confused. “Do you really think that?” he asked, voice soft.
You looked down at the floor, not wanting Sam to see the tears in your eyes you didn’t need his pity and they were tears of embarrassment along with other horrid feelings that put a thick lump in your throat. Little did you know that the main feeling in Sam was confusion and astonishment, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. You weren’t perfect in the cliché way but his stomach always fluttered when you smiled or when you were glowing with adrenaline when you’d finally finished a hunt.
Unbeknownst to Sam’s beliefs though you continued to stare at the floor but you gave a tiny nod, not knowing what he’d say but suddenly all your thoughts came pouring out, you made a mental note to kick yourself for it later, “I’m fine. It’s just I hate this,” you gestured down to your figure, “and usually I just ignore it, concentrate on the hunt or the research or you and Dean or something but I know that I’m fat and not good looking and it was just that hunt with all those gorgeous girls…”
“Wait,” Sam lifted your face gently and studied your eyes, “that’s what this is about?”
You held his gaze for a moment and considered confirming his inquiry but lost your usually ever-present courage and looked away moving back slightly, “It’s nothing Sam, leave it. Is Dean back from the supply run yet?” you forced a smile and it ached slightly, you made your voice sound bright and casual but you winced as you heard the strain in it.
“He only just left. (Y/N), talk to me, I had no idea you felt like this.”
You almost grimaced and Sam’s harmless naivety but instead let out a breathy, humorless laugh, “Well what do you expect? I’m fat, no don’t-”, you held up your hand as Sam opened his mouth, presumable to pointlessly argue, “I am and I put up with that but that case got to me, seeing Dean flirt with anything that breathes is easy enough but you…” your words caught in your throat as another shocked expression formed on Sam’s defined features.
“What girls? The one’s from the hunt?” he paused for a moment and took your silence as confirmation. “(Y/N), sure those girls were good looking but they were nothing like you. They wouldn’t have been able to do the research for a case like you did, or chase down whatever monster we’re hunting like you’re out for an easy jog or kick a full grown man’s ass or shoot on the range like you. They don’t have that gleam in their eyes that you have when you talk about something you love. You’re the one who’s whole face lights up when you’re laughing at something Dean said.” He stopped for a moment but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.
“Your flawless,” at this you did roll your eyes at, what Sam had said had lightened and loosened the knot in your chest and you were half-convinced at his words but this you were tempted to laugh at. He just smiled softly, “No, you are. What you think are flaws are really just things that make me love you more, when you have lines under your eyes it just reminds me of those late nights we spend talking or enjoying ourselves for a change in a bar. You have scars but that just reminds me of all the battles you’ve fought and won and how you’re a survivor. The only problem I see here is that you don’t see how beautiful you are.”
You were slightly overwhelmed by his words as you absorbed them, one by one. Did Sam really think that? Sam Winchester? The guy who was 6’4, totally ripped, softly spoken and kind-eyed. The guy who could have any girl he wanted but didn’t. “Sam…” you said in a shaky voice, you were about to protest or deny his words and he could sense it.
He sighed slightly and rolled his eyes, still in disbelief that you couldn’t believe the things he saw no lies in. Throwing all caution (and he realized that the way you friendship was; there was a lot of caution) to the wind he closed the already small space between you, leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your own. It was a gentle kiss, soft but with the promise of something. Sam was trying to tell you something. He was trying to prove to you that you weren’t the things you thought you were and that you were so much more than your reflection in the mirror. Sam cupped your face before gently pulling back and you knew in that moment what he was really trying to tell you, he was trying to tell you that you were loved. As you looked into Sam’s eyes, you realized that- with a few more kisses like that- he might just convince you that you were.
