zartplot57
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"No problem at all." And Sam's voice is right in his ear, Sam's body heat soaking into his back. Dean blinks down at Sam's hands on the counter, inches from each of his hips, and very carefully turns the water off and sets the pot gently down.
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They say that no one can get out of here. Never been done. Never will be done. Sam's heard that before, and Dean has never, ever, been wrong about his prediction on how long it will take them to get out. He's good that way.
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“Dean.” Someone says, loud and breathless.
Dean turns around. There’s a kid standing there, looking at Dean, then at the girl. He’s tall—Dean doesn’t often have to tilt his head up to look at people but he can tell he will for this guy—with shaggy brown hair and wide eyes. Dean looks at the blonde girl next to him.
“Sweetheart,” Dean says, raising his eyebrow. “You are way out of this guy’s league.”
Or: After a witch hunt, Dean is cursed to lose his memories of Sam. With Sam gone at Stanford, Dean doesn’t even notice. Sam does, though.
- Language:
- English
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- 58,031
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- 5/5
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Bookmarked by zartplot57
11 Aug 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
primer fic q leí del samdean d lo mejorcito q hay
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They were supposed to be going to the fucking laundromat.
But that was almost four hours ago, and Sam can smell the musty sweat wafting through from where their clothes are still festering in the trunk. He should really have learned by now not to trust Dean, when he insists on his little bar detours on the way - just a quick one, Sammy, don’t be such a little bitch. The thing is, the chances of it being a quick one are always about as slim as Sam’s patience right now; and a quick one always evolves into half the damn bar when a pretty young thing catches Dean’s eye.
Her name is Daisy. Dean’s probably forgotten that by now. He’s definitely forgotten about Sam.
Written for WincestWednesdays September Flash Event Day 3 Prompt "Radio"
Series
- Part 5 of tumblr prompt fills
- Language:
- English
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- 2,099
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by zartplot57
11 Aug 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
sammy d 17 añitos fantaseando con garcharse a dean d 21 ❤️❤️ fantástico
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The bites are about five days old now. They’re not healing well, skin-split punctures and raised pinks and purples. Any forming scabs have chafed raw all over again under Dean’s clothes. And Sam’s running his fingers over the worst ones, almost gentle, like a doctor examining an open wound. There’s nothing at all gentle about Sam’s rage-tight mouth though. Nor his mutter of, “I’ll fucking kill him.”
And those tight-lips part and he grabs for Dean’s wrists, throws them above his head on the pillow that smells so good, so Sammy, and Dean crosses and keeps them there even though Sam doesn’t hold him down. He winces as Sam presses on one of the worst ones, deep canine nick just below his hip that keeps bleeding again. And Dean licks his kiss-wet lips and says, “jeez, Sammy, let go of your pearls. It’s not that bad.”
Bookmarked by zartplot57
06 Aug 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
a la autora le quiero decir q es una geniaaaaaaaaa