Spn X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

₊˚⊹♡ letting you | sam winchester x reader

a/n - this might be the fastest i’ve ever written a fic??? it’s pure filth so that might be why but LMAO, i love love love the idea of soft dom sam sm he melts my brain, hopefully this is good!! getting back into writing after taking a break from being sick bc my brain wouldn’t work. special thanks to my friend who helped me brainstorm the delicious idea ilysm !! <3

cws - fem!reader, 1.6k, nsfw 18+, softdom!sam, sub!reader, cockwarming, masturbation, praise, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The only thing she could hear was Sam’s soft breathing, and the soft tap tap tap of his laptop keys behind her.

If she paid close enough attention, she could hear the way his shirt rustled when he moved his arms, the soft fluttering of book pages being turned, but her focus wasn’t really attainable, it was slipping through her fingers with each excruciating moment that she was sat there.

Sam shifted in his seat out of a pure intention to get comfortable, and his cock nudged deeper inside of her wet heat, dragged a soft gasp from her lips, which just earned her a soft “shh, honey” against the shell of her ear.

It had been her fault that she was in that position in the first place. She’d been a little too needy with Sam when he was trying to research, and on her third attempt at trying to initiate a — much needed, mind you — make out, he’d grabbed her hips and tugged her into his lap facing him. His voice had been a little stern as he told her to pull his cock out, and the tone of his voice alone had her cunt clenching around nothing as she quickly did as she’d been asked. She knew that voice, she’d had it in her ear most nights, whispered against her throat, against the plush of her thighs. It meant he was in control.

Sam had sat back from the library's table for enough time for her to pull his cock out and pull aside her panties, sank down onto him with a soft moan, but before she could move he grabbed her hips tightly, kept her still.

“Don’t move,” he’d dipped his head down and kissed her throat, pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Stay there while I finish up and I’ll take care of you after, hm?”

If she was feeling a bit more bratty she would’ve whined or complained or just moved anyways, but his voice in her ear and his hands on her hips had her head spinning, so she just nodded and tucked her head against his throat as he leaned over her to continue what he was doing, completely focused, as if he wasn’t buried deep inside her pussy at that moment.

That had been twenty minutes ago.

It was becoming torturous.

Sam was unfairly skilled at keeping composed. He was also unfairly skilled at winding her up. Those two went hand in hand, it seemed, because each second that passed just worked her up more and more. All she could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed to hers, his cock nestled deep inside of her, the lack of stimulation. When she’d came out to the library with her attempt at bothering him, she’d craved a genuine release, not this.

Her hips shifted slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, huffed out a soft “Sammy” against his throat when that slight movement was enough for her pussy to throb around him.

“Stay still.” He murmured without as much of a look in her direction. She glanced up at him and his eyes were locked forwards, pupils shifting left to right as he read whatever was displayed on his laptop screen. Tap tap tap, more pages turned, more reading, rinse, repeat. He was killing her.

Barely a minute had passed before she made another soft sound against the warm skin of his throat, lips brushing his neck, “Baby please-”

“My hands are busy, sweetheart,” his voice was so nonchalant it drove her up the wall. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as she huffed against his throat again. “Can you just take a break?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m almost done, you’ll just have to wait,” he tsked, a hand briefly pet her hair, the touch so light it was like he was purposely depriving her of any stimulation. “If you’re that needy, you have two hands of your own, baby. Sort yourself out until I’m finished with this.”

She released a shuddered breath against his throat, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

“Hey,” one of his hands came up to the side of her neck and he pressed his thumb against her jaw, tilted her head back until he could meet her eyes. “I told you I’d sort you out once I finished, didn’t I?”

She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.

“So isn’t it nice of me that I’m letting you get yourself off in the meantime?”

Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

Sam leaned down and kissed her, just a soft little peck, and somehow it just riled her up more. “I’ll be done soon. Go ahead and sort yourself out for me, sweetheart.”

He let go of her jaw and moved his arms to the table again, continued tapping at his laptop, and her eyes scrunched closed again as she tipped forward and rested her forehead against his throat. But she was so needy that she didn’t think twice about following his instructions. One hand stayed tucked at his waist, fingers curled into the soft material of his flannel, and her other reached between them and tucked under the material of her shirt, fingering at the waistband of her panties until she slipped beneath those too, and she was so fucking wet that she was undoubtedly making a mess of his jeans from just sitting there.

Her fingers dipped down, pressed against her clit, and she shuddered as the stimulation made her clench around his cock deliciously. She pressed her fingers forwards again, started to shamelessly rub herself, exhaled soft little moans and sighs against his throat.

Before she could do anything else Sam’s voice was in her ear again, “Quiet, sweetheart. You’re meant to be letting me work, don’t make me tell you to stop.”

Her jaw clenched as she exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut, and she huffed a breath against his throat as she took a moment to compose herself. Now that she’d started touching herself, it’d just be a torture to stop, so she just nodded against his throat with the intent to keep herself quiet.

It took a moment for her to settle on a pace. She was a bit too needy with it, her hand squished between their bodies, knuckles pressed to his hard muscles each time she shifted her hand, but eventually she settled into a pace that had her eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, the fingers of her other hand curled tightly into the material of his flannel.

She circled her clit with the pads of her fingers again and again, but it was the feeling inside of her every time her cunt clenched around his cock that made it hard for her to keep quiet. She was half tempted to bite down on his collar to shut herself up, but Sam seemed to be letting her get away with the slight gasps and whimpers that she couldn’t stop herself letting up.

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close — her forehead was pressed to his throat, hot breaths puffed out against his skin, trying not to shift her hips as she rubbed at her clit with a need that thrummed within her veins. Her jaw clenched and she held her breath, eyes squeezed shut tighter as she worked herself closer.

“Breathe,” Sam’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. She had a tendency to hold her breath when she came sometimes if she was especially worked up — she didn’t even know Sam was paying attention. She took a shuddery breath, and he murmured a soft, “that’s it.”

It only took a few more circles on her clit before she came and she grit her teeth, huffed out a sharp breath through her nose as the feeling washed over her. Her cunt pulsed in pleasure, waves that kept her rubbing at her clit until it felt too much, and when she finally stopped she was breathing sharply against his neck. Her hand was a bit cramped, fingers wet, heartbeat drumming, but the release felt so nice after she’d been so worked up.

“Good girl,” Sam crooned, and she could’ve cum again at the tone of his voice. “Good girl. Did that help?”

She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.

“Yeah?” He asked. “Are you gonna keep still until I’m finished now?”

She nodded again.

“Baby,” she felt his hand smooth up her back until his fingers delicately tangled in her hair, only enough to pull her head back to look at him. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She blinked a few times up at him. He was so devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t fair. “I’ll keep still,” she mumbled, face feeling far too hot. “Promise.”

“Oh, you promise?” She didn’t miss the teasing edge to his words, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”

“Good girl,” he praised once more, and was nice enough to give her a proper kiss that time. It still wasn’t what she craved — she didn’t feel his tongue in her mouth, he didn’t kiss her until she went dizzy — but it was nicer and kinder than a little peck. “Ten minutes and I’m all yours.”

She settled back into his chest as he went back to work, comfy to just rest against him in her post-orgasm euphoria, happy to wait the ten minutes until he was finished. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked her on the library table that week.

Escape - Castiel Imagine

Cas x reader

Summary: You and Cas met in purgatory. He left you as he got out and he wanted to make up for it.

Part 2 of Purgatory

You washed the blood from your face and hands. The last kill you had made had been hard. You had ended up having to go full wolf on them. Life was definitely harder now without a place to camp out. You hadn’t really been back to the cave since Castiel had left. It didn’t feel right. The few times you had gone back you had been expecting him to be sitting leaning against the wall. 

And every time he wasn’t you felt your heart break a little.

You guessed you were missing the Angel a little more than you should have, okay a lot more. But in your defence he was an easy person to miss. How could you not miss him when he wasn’t around? He was Castiel. 

You splashed water up on your face before sighing again. You hadn’t thought Castiel leaving would affect you so much. It wasn’t like you hadn’t lost people in this place before. But Cas was different. He wasn’t a monster like the rest of the people in this place. He didn’t eventually go insane. He was just there. A constant, calming, strong presence in your life. He kept you sane.

You picked up a stone and tossed it out into the lake in frustration. ‘Y/n?’ You jumped at the sound of your name being said behind you. Turning you grabbed the knife you had left down beside you. Your eyes fell on a small woman

She smiled slightly down at you. ‘You are Y/n right?’ You bared your teeth at her. She didn’t look like someone who belonged here. She wore a pair of jeans and a leather jacket, which was normal wear for here. But she looked too at ease, too calm. And very, very clean. You felt your fangs at her growling. She held up her hands. ‘A friend of yours sent me’ You felt your body tense.

You leaned back at on your foot. ‘I do not have any friends, here or anywhere’ You launched forwards. You covered the space between you in less than a second but she seemed ready for you. She sidestepped you slightly as your body crashed into hers. You felt a small pain in your abdomen.

Your hands flew to your throat and you couched. You turned over your lungs burning a little. You squinted when you opened your eyes the bright light being too much at first. You panted the air tasted different, the ground felt different. ‘Y/n’ You knew that voice. Your head snapped up. Above you stood a tall man, a man you hadn’t thought you’d see again.

‘Castiel’

You breathed. He stood looking down at you a soft look on his face. Behind him stood two other men, both pointing some metal things, that looked like guns. Cas nodded. You looked him over. He still wore that trench coat. But now he wore a black suit underneath, a clean white shirt and a blue tie. He was clean shaven. He looked good.

You pushed yourself up standing. Looking around you shrunk back. ‘What? Where?’ Your voice croaked. Castiel took a step closer. ‘I brought you back Y/n’ He smiled. You looked down at yourself, you still looked like you did in Purgatory. ‘Y/n’ He held out his hand to you. You felt a tear roll from your eye and down your cheek. A smile tugged at your lips. 

You threw yourself forward into him wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He stumbled a little before wrapping his arms around you holding you off the ground. You buried your face in his shoulder. ‘You can put down the guns now’ Castiel told the men behind him.

After a moment you pulled away from him. You brought your hands up to his face. ‘You shaved’ You brushed your thumb over his cheeks. ‘It is how I normally look’ He told you. ‘Are you having any cravings? Do you need some water?’ He asked his hands on your waist. ‘No, no’ You shook your head still smiling up at him. ‘I’m just happy you’re here’ You pulled him back into a hug relaxing into the angel as he stroked your hair.

Castiel pulled away but took your hand in his. ‘This is Sam and Dean Winchester’ He introduced you. They both nodded at you. The taller one, Sam, was glaring at you slightly and you shrunk back into Castiel slightly. He squeezed your hand reassuringly. ‘So, you’re Dean’ You looked over the smaller one. ‘Castiel told me a lot about you’ You looked him up and down. ‘You caused me quite a panic when you tried to take him away. I thought the Leviathans had gotten him’ You glanced up at Castiel and he smiled down at you.

He nodded and tugged you towards a door. ‘You should take a shower, you are very dirty’ Castiel told you and you tilted your head to the side. ‘A shower? Wait, that’s the thing with hot water coming from the wall right?’ Castiel nodded and you heard Dean laugh. ‘You don’t know what a shower is? How old are you?’ He chuckled as you looked back at him. ‘She is from the 1700′s′ Castiel grumbled. ‘I told you this Dean. Of course I had to explain a shower to her’ Castiel gave you another tug and through the door.

He nodded towards the stream of water coming from the metal tube. ‘Try the temperature’ You reached out hesitantly and poked your finger under the water. You yanked it back out and began to blow on it. ‘Ouch’ You grumbled. ‘Too hot?’ You nodded. He leaned forwards and twisted a handle. ‘This is how you adjust the temperature’ You tilted your head to the side squinting at it. ‘That makes it cooler?’ You breathed and he nodded down at you. ‘Try it again’ You reached out to the water again a little apprehensive.

You snuggled your face into the fluffy towel as you walked from the bathroom. ‘This is soft’ You muttered when the men looked at you. ‘Extremely soft’ Your eyes fell on Sam. ‘Is that a television?’ You nodded to the small back device in front of him. You dropped the towel on the chair beside him and came to look over his shoulder. ‘No, this is a laptop’ You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head. ‘Cas told me it was a television’ Dean chuckled from his spot on the bed.

You looked at him. ‘No sweetheart, that’s a television’ He pointed to the black box on the wooden press. ‘You’re looking at a computer’ You’re lips formed an ‘o’ and you nodded. ‘So a laptop is another name for a computer?’ He nodded and you straightened pursing your lips trying to work through the information.

You pulled out a chair and sat. ‘How does it work?’ You leaned forwards looking at it. ‘Is it electricity? Castiel said everything runs on electricity. But it isn’t attached to anything’ Dean let out a loud laugh and threw his head back. You looked at him confused. ‘She’s worse than you were Cas’ Sam started to chuckle beside him before leaning forwards to you. ‘It has a battery, that hold electricity and you connect it to the main circuit when it uses everything in the battery and it puts more into it. A lot of things work like that’ He explained to you as he pointed out all the things he mentioned. ‘Main circuit?’ He nodded and launched into the history of electricity.

You stared at Sam your chin resting on your hand. ‘You know so much’ You breathed. He smiled down at you and shrugged. ‘You must be the smartest person ever’ You blinked and you heard Castiel scoff. ‘Sam is indeed very smart, but he would not be classed as the smartest person ever’ He sat beside you.

You raised your eyebrow at him. ‘Now that Sam has explained how it works I would like to give you this’ Castiel handed you a small phone. ‘It’s a cell phone, for when you need to contact us’ Your head snapped up. ‘Us? Why would I need that if-’ You paused and you felt your lips tremble. ‘You’re leaving?’ You whispered.

Your stomach dropped. ‘I need to g-’ Cas cut himself off when he looked up from the phone. ‘No’ He shook his head. ‘No, I will not leave for long. I promise’ You pressed your lips together looking away from him. Why would he bring you here if he intended to leave you? ‘Y/n’ Dean sat forwards on the bed. ‘Cas has to sort out a few things every so often and we can’t go with him’ You looked up from the table at Dean. ‘He always comes back’ He told you leaning forwards his elbows on his knees.

You glanced at Sam and he nodded. ‘But you can stay with us if you want when Cas is off doing whatever he’s doing’ You shrugged suddenly feeling like you were imposing on these men. They probably had things going on in their lives you didn’t want to get in the way. ‘Y/n’ Cas placed his hand on yours. ‘Me and you against them. Me and you’ You followed his arm up to his eyes.

He was leaning in towards you his eyes searching your face. ‘You and me’ You nodded and lenaed into him. You placed your head on his shoulder taking the phone from his hand. ‘Will you show me how to use this?’ You asked him and he smiled nodding at you.

You sat with your legs stretched out on the bed in front of you flicking through the channels on the television. ‘No, no they record it and then play it back. Remember I told you about cameras that can record’ Cas sat beside you as you leaned against him. ‘That still confuses me how do th-’ Cas pressed his fingers to your forehead and you blinked. ‘Oh’ You breathed out as he told you without having to speak, a million pictures running through your mind.

You looked back at the television as the people moved. ‘I don’t get much of what they’re saying’ You bit your lip. ‘I don’t get it, am I supposed to get it?’ You looked up at him and he pursed his lips. ‘I don’t understand some of it either’ You nodded. Dean chuckled from the table. ‘Never have I thought I’d see Cas teaching someone about life in the 21st century’ He chuckled and you heard him agree. ‘Never thought I’d see someone who understood less than him’ You dropped the control and looked over at them.

You raised your eyebrow. ‘Castiel is extremely smart’ You told them and they froze. ‘Of course I know less than him. And he is very good with everything in here’ Dean smiled and turned in his chair looking at you. ‘Cas doesn’t get certain things of modern life, references or technology, especially when we met him’ Sam noded. ‘It’s just weird seeing him teach someone the same things we thought him’ You nodded and looked back at Cas. ‘Thank you for teaching him’ You turned back to Cas. ‘You’re very helpful’ Cas smiled shyly down at you.

He picked back up the control and began flicking again. You let out a small scream as a naked couple came onto the screen. You hands flew up in front of your eyes as you scowled. ‘What was that? Why are they?’ You heard the two boys laugh. ‘It’s called porn Y/n’ You heard Dean say between breaths. ‘It’s off’ Castiel told you and you slowly pulled them away from your eyes. ‘What? Why was that there?’ You pointed to the now blank box when you seen there was in fact no people on it. ‘People watch that to-’ Dean jerked his head. ‘-you know’ Your mouth dropped open. ‘But, that should only-what? Why? Why would they allow someone to record them? That is supposed to be between man and wife’ Your eyes widened. ‘Is she a-’ You were cut off by Dean’s loud laugh again.

You glared at him and turned to Castiel. ‘I don’t understand’ You muttered. ‘Why is Dean laughing?’ You grumbled leaning more into him. ‘It’s not only married couples who have sex’ Your eyes widened. ‘And it’s perfectly acceptable. And that is normal too’ He gestured to the television. You closed your eyes and slid down the bed. ‘I-I’m so confused. This world is so confusing. I need a minute’ You mumbled.

You felt Castiel wrap his arm around you drawing you into him. ‘You need time to adjust. I understand, it must be a large adjustment’ Castiel muttered stroking your hair which fell around your shoulders. You had told him in Purgatory that that had always calmed you and it made you smile how he had remembered such a small detail. ‘Out of everything that makes her break it was the porn huh’ Dean humped and you heard him stand going to the fridge. ‘Never would have thought that’ You grumbled incoherently at him and curled up into Cas who tightened his grip on you.

You tugged on the leather jacket the boys had gotten you. It went well with the jeans and grey top they had given you also. ‘Are you sure we should bring her out Dean? Maybe Sam should go get some food and bring it back here?’ Castiel was fussing, he was standing by the door. ‘Chill buddy, she’ll be fine. There’s a small diner down the road we can bring her there’ Dean reached out and patted his shoulder. ‘She’ll be fine Cas’ Castiel sighed. ‘I’m ready’  You smiled making your way over to them.

You took Castiel’s hand in yours. ‘You don’t need to worry so much Cas, I’ll be fine’ You told him as you walked out the door. ‘Say hello to Baby’ Dean gestured to a black giant metal carriage. ‘Woah’ You breathed. ‘That’s a car’ You stepped forwards closer to it. ‘Only the best car ever made’ Dean beamed down at you. ‘It’s so big, and really pretty’ Dean reached out patting the car.

You walked over to it and poked it. ‘This doesn’t run on electricity right?’ Dean nodded. ‘Get in, we’re going to get you some food’ Castiel opened the back door for you. ‘Thank you Cas’ You slid into the seat and Castiel sat in beside you.

You stumbled out of the car holding your stomach. ‘I’m not sure I like cars’ You gasped bent over. Cas patted your back. ‘Next time we fly’ Dean looked around Castiel to look at you. ‘You alright kiddo?’ you nodded without looking a him. ‘We’ll get a seat, some in when you don’t feel like you’re going to puke everywhere’ Cas’s hand rubbed circles on your back as you head Sam and Dean walk into the building you had stopped outside. ‘I’m never getting back into one of those things again’ You stood straight when you were sure you weren’t going to pass out or something. Cas surveyed your face before raising an eyebrow. You nodded.

You tilted your head. ‘I-I don’t understand any of this’ You mumbled. You looked up at Dean who was sitting across from you at the tiny table. ‘Try the cheeseburger and fries’ He suggested and pointed to something on the list of foods in front of you. ‘Cheeseburger?’ He nodded leaning back closing his own list. ‘It’s good’ You shrugged before turning to Cas. ‘What are you getting?’ Cas looked down at you. ‘I do not need to eat, my vessel does not need it’ You opened your mouth to say something but someone cleared their throat behind you.

You looked to see a woman with a small book and pen standing beside your table. ‘What can I get you?’ Dean ordered the same as you and Sam ordered some kind of salad while Cas just shook his head. She looked at you her eyebrow raised. ‘Um’ You gulped. ‘A cheeseburger and fries please’ She nodded jotting it down. ‘What else?’ You froze when she looked back at you from the book. ‘I-I’ You glanced at Dean wide eyed. ‘Water, she’ll have a water’ The woman nodded and you let out a long breath thanking Dean as she collected the lists.

A few moments later the food was laid down in front of you. You watched Dean for a moment before picking up your own food. You took a bite from the cheeseburger. You moaned closing your eyes as you chewed and swallowed. ‘Oh, this is good. I like this’ You took another bite moaning again. Dean laughed in front of you. ‘Told ye’ You opened your eyes smiling at him. ‘I think I want another’ You muttered as you scoffed the rest of it. ‘Try this’ Dean reached out putting something red on your plate. ‘Sauce, dip the fries into it’ You did as you were told and smiled. ‘I like this food, this makes me very happy’ You smiled at Cas and he had a large smile on his face watching you.

It was dark when you all got back to where you were staying. ‘I got you a room of your own Y/n’ Castiel handed you a small key. ‘On my own?’ You tilted your head. ‘You won’t be staying with me?’ Dean chuckled and patted Cas on the shoulder. ‘Of course he will, won’t you Cas’ He smiled down at his friend. A glint of something in his eyes. ‘If you want’ Castiel looked back at you after sending Dean a confused look. ‘Here, this will be more comfortable to sleep in’ Sam handed you a large t-shirt.

You took it from him nodding. ‘Thank you Sam’ He smiled down at you sitting on one of the two beds in the room ‘Can we go now?’ You asked Cas quietly. ‘I’m a little tired right now’ Cas nodded eagerly. ‘Of course, of course’ He turned to the brothers. Dean was taking off his coat off. ‘Y/n is tired, she is going to bed’ Dean turned at Castiel’s words smirking at him. ‘You dog’ Dean chuckled with a wink. ‘Go get em’ You tilted your head to the side and looked at Cas hoping for him to explain. 

He was looking at Dean his eyebrows pinched together his own head tilted to the side also. ‘I am going to ignore whatever you just said’ He said and Sam laughed as he flopped back onto the bed. Cas took your hand. ‘Let’s go’ Cas glared at Dean for a moment. You nodded. ‘Goodnight boys’ You waved at them. ‘Thank you for today, I appreciate it’ They nodded both saying goodnight as Castiel brought you out the door. ‘I like them’ Sam told Dean as Castiel closed the door behind you. ‘Yeah, she’s good for him’ You heard Dean agree before you were out of earshot.

Castiel opened the door for you. ‘Wait’ You stopped him grabbing his wrist. ‘Can I do it?’ You motioned to the switch. Cas nodded. You flicked it and the whole room lit up. You beamed and let out a small squeal. ‘I will never get over that. It is amazing’ You breathed and turned to look at Cas. He was watching you. His lips parted a soft look on his face. ‘What?’ You felt your cheeks heat up. ‘I’m glad I could bring you this joy, and a new life’ He smiled. You closed the door behind you.

You stepped closer to him and held out your arms. He reached out and pulled you into his chest holding you too him. ‘Thank you for giving it to me’ You nuzzled into him. ‘Thank you so much Cas for thinking of me’ Cas let out a long breath and he rested his chin on your head. ‘I always thought of you, you were the one thing I missed from that’ You pulled away looking up at him. ‘I missed you too Cas’ You pushed yourself up and pressed your lips to his jaw. ‘Thank you Castiel. Thank you’ He smiled down at you and you buried your face back into his chest.

You walked out of the bathroom and twirled for Cas. ‘How do I look?’ You seen Cas look up at you. You were only wearing Sam’s shirt. It hung loosely from your body. Cas smiled as his eyes scanned your body. ‘Clean’ He chuckled. Your eyes widened. ‘Was that a joke Angel?’ He smiled and watched you crawl onto the bed. ‘You look very well Y/n, you will fit into this world perfectly’ You slipped under the blanket and sighed watching him in the chair. ‘You do not sleep either right?’ He nodded. ‘Can I ask you something?’ Castiel stood and pulled off his coat.

You let the smile grace your lips. ‘How did you know?’ You giggled. ‘You always asked it of me before, I know the look on your face’ He pulled off his shoes and jacket. Then his shirt was next. You gulped. Your Mother would kill you, climbing into bed with a half clothed man who you were not married to. But she did not understand this world. This world was different. 

Cas slid in under the blanket and opened his arms after he placed his head on the pillow. You laid your head on Castiel’s shoulder and he began to stroke your hair. You would do this for hours in Purgatory, when you had thought you lost him, or when you had gotten into a tough fight. Castiel would take you into his arms and hold you for however long it took for you to calm.

You dropped your arm over his bare stomach. ‘Thank you Castiel. I am very glad I killed that monster’ You muttered closing your eyes. ‘Thank you for doing that, I would not have survived without you. Bringing you back was something I needed to do’ You smiled lazily against his chest. ‘No, it wasn’t but you did it anyway because you’re a good person. Thank you’ You sighed as you felt sleep begin to take you. ‘Sleep well Y/n’ Castiel whispered to you. 

And it was the last thing you heard that night as you fell asleep in the Angel’s arms.

@lilacs-lavender @bananakid42

Messy kinda love

Dean x gn!reader

Summary: The reader and the boys go on a vamp hunt.

A/n - Damn it’s been ages since I wrote anything. Especially since loosing my old account :( Honest feedback is really appreciated guys! Need to start writing more again. Hope you enjoy. Also I have not proof read this, so I hope it’s ok!

Warnings - fluffy

Word count - 941

"You're a mess" Dean says a smirk coming over his face, his eyes glistening. Y/n rolls their eyes hard, while wiping away the spot of vamp blood that had landed right their lip.

That morning Sam had walked into the bunker’s kitchen, ”we hage a case” he stated focused on the small phone screen in front of him, glancing up Sam made sure he had everyone's attention. "Its not a big case” he continues, “suspected fangs a few states over. I’ve looked into things it seems there’s about five of them. Should be easy.” He finished, lifting his head up to look at the two other hunters In the room. “What are we waiting for?” Dean responded stuffing the last of his cherry pie in his mouth, “meet by baby in ten minutes” he shouted, running off to get changed into his typical jeans and plain flannel.

Y/n raised their eyebrow at their boyfriend as he disappeared out of sight, “guess I should also get changed” they muttered looking at Sam. “Though I think you need to get changed as well Sammy, Dean won’t be happy if we’re not ready on time.” They said wondering towards the room they shared with Dean. “Its Sam to you!” The tall man responded.

Half an hour later the Winchester brothers and y/n were in baby, Sam taking shotgun, while y/n got to spread out on the back seat, the faint sound of whatever classic rock was playing through the speakers. “ETA is roughly 4 hours” Dean said looking in the rear view mirror, “maybe three and a half”. Not long after that the car drifted back into comfortable silence.

“Right, we’re about 5 minutes away” Sam announced as Dean pulled baby up a stony path, trees surrounding the trio on either side. “It’s a small wooden cabin, rumoured to have about five vamps present, though there could be more we don’t know about.”

“There are two entry points, through the front and the back. Will we be doing the normally formation Dean?” Sam questioned his brother, looking over at the other hunter, who’s green eyes had turned hard as he concentrated on driving up the pebbly road. “Same as normally Sammy” he responded. “Y/n and I’ll take the front, Sammy you take the back. We go in quietly, don’t let them know we’re there. We get in quick, we get out quick, n…”

“No one gets hurt.” Y/n finished off his sentence. “We know Dean, we’ll be fine.” Dean pulled baby into the clearing the cabin becoming visible. It was made of oak logs, rotting and damp, the windows that once existed broken and shattered, a small candle sat on the porch. It looked pitched black inside, though y/n could still make out some figures.

The trio gathered their things, Sam took the colt, while y/n and Dean each grab their trusty machetes. “Everyone know the plan?” Dean whispered, gaining to nods in reply. Sam sets of first towards the back of the cabin, his figure just visible slinking through the darkness, one in place, he gives Dean a hand signal, and y/n knows that it’s their turn. Crouching slightly to avoid being detected, they walked carefully towards the burning candle on the porch, the stones crunching slightly under their boots. Approaching the steps of the porch, Dean lifted his hand, a signal for y/n to stop moving. Y/n obeyed, although they hated being ordered around they knew that it was for the best. Get in quick, get out quick.

Dean was at the door now, he turned his head to look at y/n, nodding his head in their direction he opens the door and slinks into the darkness, y/n following close behind.

Once inside the smell of wet wood and blood overtook their senses. They cabin was closed plan, meaning there were many doors and hiding places. Dean was over in the far corner, when y/n sensed the door next to them moving slightly in the corner of their eyes. Moving quietly they hid behind it, just as it swung open, the vampire spotting Dean and leaping towards him. Dean whipped around, slicing the vamps head clean off its shoulders. It’s body falling to the floor with a thump, while it’s head rolled a little before settling.

“What was that?“ a male voice was heard behind the door, before another vampire appeared in the room. Not long after Dean and y/n had killed three of the five vamps. Finding Sam in the middle of killing the last. Dean let out a sigh of relief, checking y/n over before confirming that everyone was ok. “Job well done! Who wants to get a drink before getting a place to sleep?” Dean questioned. Walking back towards the front door.

But something wasn’t quite right, the faint sound of breathing could be heard. But this breathing didn’t belong to y/n or the brothers. There was an unaccounted being in the room with them, listening, waiting for the right moment to jump. Y/n could feel the hairs on their neck stand up, the breathing glossing over their skin. Pulling out their machete they whipped around slicing the vamps head clean off, just as it’s teeth were about to sink into their skin. It’s blood splatting across the room, little drops landing by the side of their lips.

"You're a mess" Dean says a smirk coming over his face, his eyes glistening. Y/n rolls their eyes hard, while wiping away the spot of vamp blood that had landed right their lip. “I love you too” they respond. “But what I think I’d love more right now is a shower”

Main masterlist

Started: 06 07 22

Last updated: 22 08 22

Key:  ✓ completed, ♥ ongoing,  ☾ angst,  ★ fluff, ♡ smut

Challenges

various x reader

30 day challenge | Summary: Using a 30 day prompt challenge, a collection of drabbles will be written for various characters.  ♥  ★  ☾

----

Supernatural 

Dean x Sam x Winchester reader 

Join the hunt | Summary: Ever want to be included in the show, as a Winchester? Wait no more. Follow y/a, Sam and Dean through 15 seasons of saving people, hunting things the family business. ♥  ☾

Dean x reader

Messy kinda love | Summary: The reader and the boys go on a vamp hunt.  ✓

Crushing (Part one) |  Part two | Summary: y/n has found Dean in a compromising position, Dean has found out about y/n’s crush. Not everything ends well.  ✓ ☾

Sam x reader

Creepy Crawly | Summary: The bunker protects the reader and the boys from evil. Well, not from all evil.  ✓  ★

Bobby x reader

I love you | Summary: You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?  ✓ ☾

----

Stranger things (coming soon)

Eddie Munson X reader

Like marmite | Summary:  How you and Eddie became secret lovers, after being life long enemies. 18+  ✓ ★ ♡

Creepy Crawly

Sam x gn!reader

Summary: The bunker protects the reader and the boys from evil. Well, not from all evil.

A/n – This is basically what happened to me last night, apart from having a Sam to save me. I slept on the sofa, and I haven’t been upstairs since. Dreading going back to bed tonight! I hate spiders!

Warnings – Mentions of Spiders, Mention and description of panic attacks.

Word count – 1026

You just couldn’t get comfortable, after going to bed two hours ago, and indulging yourself in your favourite tv show, something just didn’t feel right. The bed was too lumpy, too soft, too hard; you were too hot under the duvet cover, but too cold to not have the thin cover over your body. Something just wasn’t sitting right, something making the hairs on your arm stand up. It wasn’t a monster; the bunker was protected against any evil.

Sitting up slowly, you squinted, taking in your surroundings. It was hard to see with the room being so dark, but nothing was out of place, the wardrobe and bedside table were still situated in the same place. The wardrobe doors were shut like you left them, and your personal items were still scattered across the top of your bedside table. Sighing, you lay back down. Nothing was wrong, but yet something was still off.

“Maybe if I just turn on the lamp” You whispered to yourself, reaching over, and pressing the little switch. The warm yellow glow of the lamp illuminating the room. “Nothing’s out of place” you talk to yourself “Everything’s where it belongs.”

Suddenly, you catch movement out the corner of your eye, your head whips round staring at the door. Your heart starts thumping manically, bile rising in your throat. Your hands cover your lips, muffling a small scream, you don’t want to wake the boys. The creature starts to move again, towards your bedside table, tears start to pool in your eyes.

“You’re ok (y/n), just breathe” you say to yourself, eyes focused on the area where the creature has slinked into the darkness. Slowly, building the courage, you reach forward picking up some easy clothes to change into, as well as grabbing a lore book; there’s no way you’re sleeping tonight.

Your heart rate has slowed, your breathing coming back to a normal rate. The creature still out of sight. “Right, I’ll grab all my things, and run out the door. I’ll be ok” You give yourself a pep talk. Placing your foot down on the rug, that’s when you see it.

The big black creature, scurrying across your floor back toward the door, its hairy eight legs moving un-naturally. The spider catches you by surprise and you let out a small squeal. Your eyes follow its every move, your heart pounding out of your chest, tears cascading down your cheeks. You can feel a panic attack coming on.

The spider is now by your door its thick legs tapping the wood. “I’m trapped” you sputter, “It’s blocking the door. How do I get out?” you question yourself, voice cracking. Your body frozen in place, almost like your paralyzed and the only thing you can move are your eyes.

Abruptly, the spider moves again, this time faster. Its black legs sending chills down your spine, and then it gone again, down by the side of your bedside table. Hoping that it stays there long enough for you to escape, you focus on calming your breathing. Once you feel like you have your body under control again, you wipe the few tears off your face.

Your body is still too scared to fully move, yet you’re able to gather a few items you’ll need for the night once you’ve left. “This is so stupid. It’s probably more scared of me then I am of it… maybe not.” You mutter as you pick up your phone, the screen lighting up to read 1am. “I wish I wasn’t this scared.”

Leaning down to grab your phone charger from the plug socket, your hand brushes the plastic plug, before freezing. You’re in a stare off, the dark big spider, blending into your dark oak side table. It leaps towards you, its hairy thick legs rushing towards your exposed skin.

It’s now or never, as the spider almost lands on you, you grab the few things you had already gathered, before sprinting to your door. Throwing it open, the door ricochets on its hinge. But you don’t look back, your legs carrying you towards your location and away from your worst nightmare. “I guess the bunker does let some evil in” you pant as you arrive in the library.

Finding the small, comfy seat in the corner, you sit down with a sigh, being away from the spider means that its easier for you think clearly. Checking the time, you see that its 2:30am. “It took me an hour and a half to escape. But at least I’m safe now!” You let out a breathy laugh, “I can hunt the things that go bump in the night but can’t save myself from a spider.”

When you open your eyes, its early morning, your head feels groggy but you’re glad you managed to get some shut eye. All you can remember before you went to sleep was the big black spider, you’re surprised you didn’t have a nightmare. “I wonder if it’s still in my room” You murmur, thoughts of the creature of darkness crawling over your skin as you try to sleep.

Promptly, your thoughts were interrupted the door to the library opening, as Sam padded in, yawning, and stretching; a small amount of his flannel rising, displaying his sculpted stomach.

“Oh, (y/a)! What are you doing up sweetheart?” He questioned, his eyes calming and soothing. Tears started to build up in your eyes, a small one dribbling down your cheek. His face scrunching up in worry.

“There was a spider, in my room. Like big.” You wave your hands around to demonstrate.

“Why didn’t you wake me (y/n), you know I would have saved you” Sam mumbled, wiping the tears away from the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about Sweetheart. Go to my room, get some sleep and I’ll go check your room”

Standing silently, you nod your head at the gentle giant, a breathy ‘thank you’ tumbling off of your lips.

You might be scared of spiders, but you smile as you know the boys, especially your man will always protect you; even if it’s just a creepy crawly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous fanfic here | Main masterlist here

Join the Hunt

Summary: Ever want to be included in the show, as a Winchester? Wait no more. Follow y/a, Sam and Dean through 15 seasons of saving people, hunting things the family business.

Season 1

1.1 Pilot

1.2 Wendigo 

Crushing

Dean x gn!reader

Summary: y/n has found Dean in a compromising position, Dean has found out about y/n’s crush. Not everything ends well.

a/n: Sorry! I just love some angst sometimes, and I love writing angst. Let me know what you think. Or even request a fic :)

warnings: angst, implied sex/adult themes

word count: 945

“You’ve got to get over this crush thing” Dean yelled, his arms waving up and down in the space between the two of you, the argument escalating. Why oh why did he have to find out the small crush you had been harbouring, which had developed a few months after you first met him.

The argument had started about ten minutes earlier, when you had walked into the bunker, finding Dean on top of a scantily clad woman. Her blonde hair was a mess, sprawled out across the floor, Dean’s hands were in it, grabbing and pulling as he made out with the unknown woman. Her lipstick was smeared all over his face, his shirt was undone, the sleeve halfway down his arm, his belt was unbuckled, and you watched him groan and moan as he grinded his clothed cock against the woman’s leg.

The short gasp and the small wail that you accidently let slip, betrayed your presence in the room. Dean and the woman turning their heads to look at you. You froze, tears welling in your eyes, your fight or flight kicking in, fear and hurt flooding your body. You span around and ran, but as you left you heard Dean sigh, before muttering “I have to deal with this, look I’ll call you later Maria.”

You could hear his feet thumping on the floor behind you, before he aggressively grabbed your arm, pulling you back, a small squeak escaping your lips, as he turned you round to look at him. You didn’t look at him though, you didn’t want to see his face, his green eyes, his slight brown stubble; you didn’t want to see the bright red lipstick stains peppered over his face, you didn’t want to see his swollen lips from the heavy make out session. To be honest you didn’t want to see Dean at all, you wanted the ground to swallow you hole, to go back in time, never meet Dean, never fall in love with him. You just wanted to be alone.

“Look at me y/n!” Dean growled, roughly grabbing your chin, with his hand, a hand that had been touching that woman, and playing with your hair; it made you feel dirty, like you wanted to peel your skin off. You pulled away from his touch, your eyes still not meeting his green ones, the ones that previous to today you could spend hours getting lost in.

“You’ve got to get over this crush thing” Dean yelled, his arms waving up and down in the space between the two of you, the argument escalating. Your heart shattered, it felt like only yesterday when you had fallen asleep in the library and Dean had picked you up and carried you to bed, it felt like only yesterday when he kissed you on head and tucked you on the bed whispering “I love you, y/n”. It felt like only yesterday; but it wasn’t it was two months ago. That night gave you hope, it made your heart flutter, hopes that one day Dean would be your future. But now, that hope has died, the butterflies that lived in your stomach, poisoned leaving you in cramps. The heart flutters you felt before warping and making your heart feel like it would almost stop.

“Look, y/n. I don’t feel… whatever it is I’m supposed to feel for you”

“But you told me you loved me!” You finally found your voice, yelling at him, fury spreading through your veins, covering you body in hard armour. You were going to at least fight for this, fight for the two of you, even if nothing had fully bloomed yet.

“I love you, y/n” He assured, your heart healing slightly, hope bubbling up from the pit it died in, but then he continued. “I love you so much… just not in that way.” You gasped, stepping back slightly like you had been shot, you felt like you had been shot; and Dean was the one pulling the trigger.

“I don’t want to lie to you, y/n. I care about you, I always will, but you and me, are never gonna happen.”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Every sentence, every word was like another bullet piercing your heart, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. Your head starts to spin, bile rising in your throat, a slight burn left in its place. You finally look into your ‘shooters’ eye, the different hues of green swirl together in a mixture of sadness and pity. Dean tries to reach out to comfort you, but you slap his hand away.

He signs, lowering his arm. “y/n” He whispers, “you need to move on.” He finishes, turning around and leaving you alone, in the corridor of the bunker, alone like when you first met him, alone like you have been for most of your life.

Your body gave into the void, it felt like you were falling forever, your knees smashing into the floor, the pain shooting through your body, yet the physical pain hurts less then Dean’s words. You were wounded, but no one could fix you. A thousand pieces it a lot to put back together, and there were some pieces sure to be lost. Leaving a hole, a void never able to be filled. Even if you painted the pieces gold, nothing could mend your broken heart.

You sat on the floor, a puddle of tears surrounding you, hoping that it would get deep enough to drown out your hurt, your fears, your anger. You were alone again, with nothing but a broken heart and the words of the one who loved you bouncing around your head.

 Main master list

1.1 Pilot

Dean x Sam x gn! Winchester reader

Summary: Ever want to be included in the show, as a Winchester? Wait no more. Follow y/a, Sam and Dean through 15 seasons of saving people, hunting things the family business.

A/n - I am going to attempt to do all 15 seasons, please be patient with me. This took two days to write. Eeeek, I hope it’s ok!

warnings: Follows the first episode of the first season. Death. Fire.

word count - 3119

Masterlist | Next

“Night Sammy, Night y/n” a young Dean states from his mother’s arm. Mary gently lowers her older son, allowing him to kiss his younger sibling’s goodnight. Mary smiles, her eyes lighting up with the love she holds for her three children, looking over her shoulder she spots her husband, John, and smiles. John flips of the light, whispering to his youngest children “If you two sleep through the night, you can have Dean’s room”, Mary chuckles overhearing her husband before tucking Dean into bed and placing a kiss on his temple, “Good night love” she softly whispers, a smile on her face.

A few hours later, Mary awakes with a start. The twins screaming coming through the baby monitor kept next to her on the bedside table next to her and John’s wedding photo. Mary sits up, sleep still embracing her, touching the mattress next to her she can’t find her husband, smiling when she realises her husband is looking after the youngest children. She pads her way down the corridor rubbing sleep out her eyes, pushing the twin’s door open. She smiles as she spots John’s figure over Sam’s crib. “John?” She questions “Are they hungry?”. There’s no response, apart from a quick and sudden shhh. Mary rolls her eyes at her husbands antics, taking a step back and turning around heading back to her warm bed. Reaching the bedroom, she soon realises that there is a light, a slight glimmer coming from downstairs. She’s cautious. Bare feet shuffling down the stairs, before turning the corner, a movie is playing out on the Tv lighting up the sitting room; and sat in front of the tv asleep, slumped over in his chair is John.

Fear! It’s all she can feel as Mary blurts out “Oh my god” before bolting up the stairs back up to the twin’s room. She bursts the door open, the door bouncing on its hinges swinging roughly, urgently flicking the switch, the brightness blinding her slightly before her eyes adjust. Whatever is in the room scares her, the colour drains out of Mary’s face. She starts panicking, hyperventilating.

“…Get away from them…” She all but whispers, before letting out a blood curdling scream which wakes up the rest of the house. John shoots up with a start, running to Sam and y/n’s room. “Mary?” he questions, his wife no longer in sight. The babies are crying, bawling struggling to calm down, but they’re ok, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Gently stroking y/n cheek, he checks them over before checking over Sam. They settle a little, and John smiles, turning to search for Mary. But something catches him. Somethings not right. John turns back into the room, a drop of blood now staining the bottom sheet of the crib the two siblings share.

Drip.

Another drop of blood, quickly followed by another. John realises that the droplets are falling from above, he angles his neck upwards, shear terror shivering its way down his spine. Mary. She’s splayed out, her eyes wide and staring, almost glass like.

“No… oh my god no…” He croaked. He stands frozen, as a sizzling noise overwhelms his senses, the smell of smoke as small black lines spiderweb across the ceiling. The lines connect, spelling out three words. Coming for you. Before suddenly igniting, engulfing the walls and Mary.

The fire alarms blare, beeping fast, high pitch. Y/n and Sam start to fuss again, the noise hurting their ears.

“Mummy? Daddy” a scared voice questions from the hallway, John snaps out of it, grabbing Sam and y/n, swinging the door open, he looks at Dean.

“No Dean, don’t look, okay? We gotta go.” He assured his young son, leading Dean down the stairs and out the front door, holding onto his youngest offspring. It’s not long until the fire fighters arrive. The family are sat on the hood of a car, Dean tucked up into his father’s side, he holds y/n tentatively, John holds Sam in one arm, slowly rocking his young son, while wrapping his arm around Dean. The house burns into the night, reds, yellows, and oranges fill the night sky. Dean turns and hides his face in his fathers’ side, John’s eyes harden, his jaw clenched. No more apple pie life.

---

23 years later.

Sam had moved to Stanford, you’d gone to visit him once or twice, though the distance between Kansas and California made it more difficult. Though you made sure to at least text your twin brother once a week. He had a girlfriend now, you had only met her once, but she was sweet.

About a week ago, Dean turned up at your front door. “Dad’s missing” he yelled as he strolled right through the front door. “Thanks for knocking” you reply, eyes rolling back at your older brothers’ antics. “Dad’s missing” he repeats.

“So what? Dad disappears all the time. We have our own cases to be working on Dean.” You say, walking into the kitchen, setting about moving a couple of dirty dishes into the sink. “y/n!” Dean shouts, “Would I be here if I wasn’t worried?” He had a point, Dean and you were close, closer since Sammy had left for the apple pie life. The two of you staying as hunters, helping John out on a few cases here and there, but mainly soloing it. “Let’s go find dad” you respond, staring into the green eyes of your older brother. ‘Where are you dad?’

Baby’s engine purrs, before Dean turns the key, the headlights switching off. Its peaceful, yet eery. You and Dean climb out the car and gather a few things before walking towards the apartment building. “It’s that one” you whisper, pointing out the window of the apartment your twin lives in, Dean looks at you, “Are you sure?” He murmurs. “Positive” you nod your head back at him.

“Well here goes nothing” Dean says, wrapping a small piece of cloth around his knuckles, before punching the window. It doesn’t take much for the window to shatter. “Thought it would take more effort that that” Dean mentions, turning to look over his shoulder at you, before slowly climbing through to avoid the smashed glass, you slink in, following closely behind. The apartment is dark, but it doesn’t take long for Dean to find the kitchen. “Want a beer while we wait?” He questions, his face illuminated by the small fridge light. Before you get the opportunity to answer, the door swings open, Sam armed ready to attack, you and Dean dodging just in time.

“Easy tiger. Just looking for a beer” Dean jokes with his younger brother.

“Dean?” Sam questions, eyes widening. The both of them ignoring your presence.

“Heya Sammy” Dean smirks, “How are things? Enjoying law school?”

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sam barked, before suddenly spotting your figure. “y/n? You… I though better of you” he sighs dejectedly.

“Sam, we’ve gotta talk” you butt into the conversation, pointing at yourself and then the two boys.

Out of nowhere, a soft tired voice enters the conversation. “Sam?” Jessica asks, eyes adjusting to the two other figures in her kitchen. She’s dressed in a smurf t-shirt, and short shorts. You smile, she’s just as you remember. Dean smiles mischievously, “I love the smurfs”, you stare at your older brother, before sharply elbowing him in the ribs, he hisses taking in a deep breath.

“Jess, hey sorry to wake you” Sam mutters, turning around to look at his girlfriend. “This is… well this is y/n, but you already knew that” you smile and wave at her, the recognition flashes across her face, out of the corner of your eyes you can feel Dean staring at you. Sam continues “Ummm, and this is… well this is Dean”

“Your brother Dean?” Jess questions, a confused look on her face.

“Sammy” you interject “We’ve gotta talk”

“Well, whatever you two need to say, you can say in front of her.” You frown, last thing you had known, Sam had never told Jess anything about your lives, about the creatures that go bump in the dark.

“Dad hasn’t been home in a week” Dean explained, his face hardening with a seriousness.

“So, he’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He’ll stumble back sooner or later.” Sam answers quickly, his brain not fully processing the extent of Dean’s sentence.

“No Sam.” You added, “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a week.” Your twins eyes widen, the mutual understanding between the three siblings that this conversation has to be silent.

“Jess. Excuse us. I need to talk to these two outside” Sam mutters to his girlfriend, before turning around and walking to the door with Dean, Jess stands there, confused. You look at her and smile slightly, mouthing a quick ‘sorry’ before running of to catch up with the rest of your family.

You walk in silence, towards baby, Dean lifting the boot. “He left his journal?” Sam’s eyebrows scrunch up in concern, “Tell me everything.”

It takes awhile to explain what has happened, but soon Sam is caught up. The two of them getting into an argument not long after. “Shut up!” You shout, “Now is not the time.” The boys whip their heads round, staring at you. “They have a point” Dean says, nodding in your direction.

“Look. Dad will be okay. He’ll be home in a few days. You’ll see.” Sam sighs accepting that the argument has been lost.

“He’s in real trouble if he’s not dead already. I can feel it, and I know you can too.” Dean responses, Sam deflates, you can see the worry in your twins’ eyes. You know deep down he cares.

“So, the only question is: you coming with us or not?” You prod, Sam’s eyes fill with flickering emotions, before he finally gives in. “Fine, as long as I’m back by Monday. I have an interview for law school.”

After packing, and saying goodbye to Jess, the three of you head to baby, Sam throwing his duffle in the boot, before climbing into the passenger seat. “Oi! I sit there” You protested, “y/n” Sam growls “It’s 3am, you come into my apartment, convince me to leave my girlfriend for a few days. I don’t see your name on it; therefore, I’m sitting here!” He argued before climbing in and slamming the door, Dean getting behind the drivers’ seat not long after. “Hey! Get in!” Dean shouts, head hanging out of the window, rolling your eyes at the two boys, you huffily clamber into the back of the car.

You’d been in the car for a couple hours, baby’s engine producing a gentle purring, though it’s drowned out by the sound of Deans music blasting over the speakers. “What was he hunting?” Sam asks. “Not sure” You respond, passing a sign that reads ‘Welcome to Sanger, California, U.S.A. America’s Christmas Tree City.’ For such a happy sign, there was an ungodly number of missing posters stapled to the bottom of it, of course Dad chose a place like this you thought.

You zone back in, Sam explaining that there have been no reports of Dad at any hotels or bars. Leaning forward, in between the two front seats you pipe in “I think if we wanna find Dad, we gotta find out what the hell’s happening around here.”

Eventually, you find dad’s room, its covered in pins and string connecting newspaper articles and missing photos. Dean sniffs a burger, before pulling a disgusted face “Dad’s not been here in a few days” he looks over his shoulder, you and Sam are staring at a particular newspaper article. “Dean” you call out tentatively, reaching out and pulling the newspaper off the wall, the small pin ripping the paper where it had been attached. Dean walks over to get a better look at what you’ve been looking at. “He found the same news article” Sam confirms, “What are we dealing with then?” Dean questions, he’s getting agitated, you can tell from the way he’s moving around the room. “He answered that as well” Sam responds, pointing at a sticky note in the jumble of papers and string. “A woman in white” You whisper in recognition.

“All right, so if we’re dealing with a woman in white, Dead would have found the corpse and destroyed it” Dean questions, looking at you and Sam.

“Well, she could have other weaknesses” you suggest. The boys look at you and nod in agreement.

“Think we need to question the husband” Sam admits “That’s what dad would do.”

“If he’s still alive” Deans butts in. “Anyway, I’m starving! Want anything from down the street?” Sam and you just shake your heads no. “Oh well, your loss” Dean mutters turning around, and walking out the front door.

“We need to find the husbands address” you say to Sam, leaning over his shoulder and peering at his phone in his hand, you see that it’s on the voicemail screen, Jess’ name visible. “She’ll be ok, Sammy” His head turns slowly to look at you, brown eyes wide and innocent. He blinks slowly, snapping out of whatever thoughts were going through his head. “I’ll find the addre..” He starts answering your earlier statement, when suddenly your phone starts ringing, Deans name flashing across the screen.

“Dean?”

“Dude, five-oh, take-off” He responds quickly, words spilling out of his mouth like vomit.

“What about you?” you probe. “Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad.” The line goes dead, eyes wide you turn to Sam, who has already started opening the bathroom window. “Come on y/n!” He snapped, you hurry over quickly, rolling out into the bushes behind the motel just as the front door is broken in.

Once you had escaped, you and Sam had decided to follow up on the only lead you have, Constance’s husband. The both of you trudge up to the rickety house, a chain link covering the grimy glass window. Sam knocks on the door, an old man opens it, a puzzled look crossing his face.

“Have you seen this man?” You hold up the photo of your father, recognitions flickers through the old man’s tired eyes. “Yeah, he was here three or four days, ago. Said he was a reporter” He’s hesitant, you can tell that he’s already suspicious. Sam decides to take control of the conversation, it doesn’t last long but you get all the information you need. Thanking the man, you turn around, walking back over to where baby was abandoned.

“So, Dad was here” you state, looking at your taller twin brother.

“And he” Sam moves his head back, directing your attention to the old man watching the two of you out the window “committed adultery.” He pauses, sighing before continuing “We’re definitely dealing with a woman in white. Though our main problem now is figuring out how to get Dean back”.

“Leave that to me” you pull out your phone, dialling 911. “H-hi” you fake stutter, pretending to be in distress. “There’s gunfire, I’m on Whiteford road.”

“There that should work” you smile, shutting your phone and stuffing it into your pocket, Sam is staring eyes wide.

“What?!” you glare at him.

“H-how?”

“You learn these things when your brother leaves, and Dad expects you to fill his place”

---

At Constance’s house

“Well, that was a job well done” you smile, walking backwards, your brothers walking behind you.

“Saved your lives” Dean chortled, throwing open Baby’s door, and climbing in.

---

You’d been on the road for about half an hour, Sam was looking up the message Dad had left Dean. Highway to hell playing over the speakers. It was peaceful. It felt nice, you had missed being the trio, you had missed your twin brother, but you knew he would be leaving soon. Dejectedly you let out a sign, breath steaming up the window.

“It’s called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado” Sam jabs his finger at the map, pointing out the area that was in the middle of nowhere.

“Sounds. Charming” You mutter, rolling your eyes. The boys ignore your sarcastic comment, Dean looks over at Sam, “How far?”

“Six hundred miles” Sam replies, you sink down further into the seat, the soft leather moulding around your body.

“Dean” Sam uttered.

“You’re not going?” Dean gruffly responds, turning Baby around, heading back to Stanford.

---

You swap seats, sitting back in the passenger seat, Sam leaning through the window. “Keep me updated, yeah?” He smiles sadly, stepping back away from the car, and Baby’s engine roars to life. You watch him through the wing mirror, he’s stood in the same place, watching as you and Dean disappear. A single tear dribbles down your face. Dean glances over at you, reaching out he places his hand on top of yours. Dean has always said ‘no chick flick moments’, but he’s always had a soft spot for you. He comforted you as a baby, after your first break up, when Dad hurt you, when Sam left. Sam might be your twin, but Deans always had a soft spot for you.

A chill goes down your spine.

“Dean?” you look at him, your eyes wide, silently asking all you needed to ask.

“You felt that too?” He stares at you, the same scared yet puzzled look across his face. Suddenly he throws Baby around, travelling back to Sam’s apartment. “Somethings not right”.

As you pull up to Sam’s building, the windows are glowing, orange and red. Flames starting to lick around the top of the windows. Nightmares from when you were little flashing through your eyes, you can remember when Dad had told you what had happened that night, and now it was happening all over again. Silent tears had started to pour down your face.

“Sam!!!” You wail, opening the car door, darting towards the building as fast as your legs allowed you, Dean already ahead of you, feet ponding kicking up dust and sand from the gravel. “Sam!” you continue bawling. Dean slams his way into the bedroom, yellow and oranges tongues of fire reaching down almost lapping at your skin. Dean grabs Sam, pushing him out of the room, his wails of anguish as Jess burns ripples through your body.

“Jess! NO! Jess!” Sam weeps, as Dean continues pushing him out of the burning building. Your heartaches, maybe its because you’re seeing your brother hurt, maybe it’s a twin thing, but you swear that you feel Sam’s hurt, the pangs of guilt that ricochet through his body affecting you too.

It doesn’t take long for the fire truck to arrive, you hug your brothers close to you, glad that they are ok. Dean separates from the hug, staring at the burnt building, before walking behind Baby, opening the boot. You hear the familiar click of the shotgun being loaded. Sam starts walking over to Dean, you trail behind. Sam’s face is dark, covered in desperate anger. Sam looks over at you then at Dean, you hear him exhale, as he tosses the shotgun in the boot “we’ve got work to do” he hisses before slamming the boot shut.

---

Main master list | Join the Hunt masterlist | Next

I love you

Dad!Bobby x reader

Summary: You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

a/n – Sorry, I really like angst fanfics! Hopefully I’ll be able to get part two to join the hunt out next week sometime, but bear with if not as I have a training course for work. Feedback appreciated :)

warnings – angst, demons, bleeding out, blood, blade.

word count: 1109 

You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

“Fuck!” You yelled. You had just finished the salt and burn, the grave glowing oranges and yellows, the ghost haunting and killing young children put to rest, when suddenly a sharp pain stabbed you in the side. You looked down, a blade was stuck in your side, it felt like poison was flooding your body, you could feel your t-shirt getting wet with blood. ‘Fuck! Why are hunts never so simple’ you thought to yourself, the pain becoming more and more unbearable, paralyzing even.

You coughed a little, blood splattering over your hand and dribbling down your face. The coughing moved the blade within you, and a new wave of pain rushed through your body. Whoever or what had gotten you was hidden in the darkness, but you could hear it, footsteps getting closer.

“My, my, my” A deep voice emerged, surrounding you, it sounded as if it was coming from all directions. The creature stepped out in front of you, in body clad in a black crisp suit, dark red splotches scatted on the material. Its hair was slicked back, styled smartly. It emerged from the shadows, into the slight light the salt and burn was casting, blue eyes, switching and turning black, the smell of sulphur and rotten eyes overpowering your senses.

The demon laughed, more like cackled as it walked towards you. If you weren’t incapacitated you would have fought back, but the searing pain froze you to the spot you were stood in. The vessel the demon was occupying was definitely attractive, but that didn’t matter. The demon got closer, until it was a few inches from your face, it grabbed at your face, leaning forward, inhaling your scent. “My, my, my” it repeated again, leaning in towards you, its hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“Who would have thought that I would get the jump on the infamous y/n Singer” it whispered, its voice sweet almost melodic, but the sinister undertone was still there. “I can’t wait to tell your dear old father” it continues, running a finger over your cheek, down to your side, where the hilt on the blade was sticking out of you. Its hand wrapped around it, wiggling it up and down, the pain surging again, as your knees weakened, and you collapsed to the floor with a gasp. The blade puncturing more of your insides as it stayed in the demon’s hand when you fell.

“Oh, yes!” it giggles manically, “I can’t wait to tell dear old daddy, but first you get to suffer” It kicked you in the side, dirt and mucked adding and mixing into your wound. It turned to look at you, smirking before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. You could feel the blood pouring out of your side faster than before, laying down you curled into a ball, trying to maintain body head. You could hardly feel your hands and feet by now, your body going into shock with the blood loss, but you willed yourself to dig around in your pocket, pulling out the phone, and calling the only man you had on speed dial.

The phone rings a few times, your close to giving up, conserving your energy, when a gruff voice finally answered.

“What have you done now, Idgit” The voice askes, the undertones soft and gentle, caring.

“Dad” you whisper, more blood pouring out of your mouth, you breath in shakily, pain rippling throughout you. “I need to visit you soon; it’s been too long” You try to keep your voice cheerful, not allow him to realise anything is wrong

“What’s wrong y/n” His voice is hard. Of course, you couldn’t fool your dad, of course the infamous Bobby Singer knew when something was wrong. The concern in his voice rolling in waves through the phone, you could imagine him now, standing in the yard, dark eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

“Nothing’s wrong Dad” You squeak out, before a coughing fit overtakes your body, droplets of blood being expelled out of your mouth.

“That’s Bullshit, y/n!” He yells, dad could always tell when you were lying, but you ignored him, continuing with the story, that nothing was wrong.

“I just wanted to call you Dad, it’s been awhile s’all” You whisper, energy draining from your body quicker after you stopped coughing. Though a smile planted itself on your face, thinking of your father and the memories you had with him.

Bobby takes awhile to respond, you can imagine the cogs in his head turning, trying to figure out what was going on and how to help you. But you knew you weren’t long for this world, and you needed to tell him one last thing.

“Dad” you gasped, it was getting harder to breath, your eyesight had started going black around the rims, almost like those stylised photos you saw every so often.

“I love you Dad” Your energy was almost depleted now. Body cold and blue, most of your blood on the floor underneath you. Your ears had started ringing, your brain going foggy. Closing your eyes, it was easier to concentrate on your father’s comforting voice.

“Y/n! What is going on?” He yells down the phone, impatience and fear radiating from his voice.

“I love you Dad” You responded, a happy smile slipping over your face as you got to tell him something you didn’t say often. A hunter’s life was one of gore and hard-faced people, not a life full of lovey moments, though you wished you had said that you loved him more.

You couldn’t open your eyes anymore, eyelids to heavy to move. Your chest felt like the weigh of the world was rested upon it, organs shutting down one by one. Your heart slowing, trying to pump the last remaining blood around your system, your lungs hard inflating with much needed oxygen. It was your time. “I love you, Daddy.” You mustered up the last of your strength, taking the deepest breath you could, before repeating the three little words you wished you had told your father more. Your soul started to slip from your body, the ache in your side becoming more distant, your senses becoming numb, fading. Your dads voice distant, yelling and pleading your name over and over again like a broken record. You smiled as darkness encompassed you, your life slipping away, peace holding your hand as you crossed the line between life and death. Happy as you got to remind your dad that you loved him one last time.

---

Main master list 

Crushing part two

Dean x reader

Summary: y/n has found Dean in a compromising position, Dean has found out about y/n’s crush. Not everything ends well.

a/n: I am so sorry this has taken so long! But I got there, busy ass week. Hoping to write more next week and get more things posted. Thank you to @megamall98 for the request.

warnings: angst, sex/adult themes, swearing

word count: 1268

Part one

---

God her lips! I couldn’t get enough; they were rosy red and plump they looked just like theirs. Like y/n’s. And by chuck was this woman a good fucking kisser. I close my eyes imaging that I was kissing y/n instead.

It hadn’t taken long for me and the random woman I had picked up in the local bar to arrive back at the bunker. The alcohol I had consumed to forget my love for y/n was rushing through my veins. I probably shouldn’t have driven, I know y/n would kill me if she knew, but I need to forget about her; move on, and this chick on my arm was my answer. As soon as we entered the bunker, we were like teenagers, her body was clad in a little tight black dress, nothing like y/n would wear; it made it easier to separate hook-ups from y/n if they were complete opposites. I pinned her against the wall, my fingers dancing up her thigh, my lips pressing gently then hard, then gentle again against her neck until I reached the right spot and she moaned. My fingers continued their journey, playing with the elastic of her panties, fingers creeping underneath, playing with her clit.

We moved throughout the bunker, from the door to the kitchen to the floor. I pinned her arms above her head, sliding her little black dress up her body, before pulling off her panties. Her blonde hair was splayed around her, like a halo, she looked godly, beautiful even; but no where near as amazing as y/n. I closed my eyes, before peppering her neck with kisses, imagining y/n beneath me, my cock getting harder.

But that’s when the argument started.

A short gasp, followed by the slamming of the front door, gave away to someone intruding. I whipped my head around, and there they were. Fuck, I had forgotten about them; I guess my plan worked. But the flash of hurt, anger, confusion that quickly appeared on their face quickly pulled me to my senses. I clambered up off of the blonde on the floor, noticing tears at the corner of y/n’s eyes, before they suddenly turned around, running off, their feet pounding on the floor.

“Fuck! I’ve really screwed this up” I mutter to myself, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. I turn and look at the annoyed blonde, who was no longer attractive and was no longer getting any of me.

“I have to deal with this, look I’ll call you later Maria” I mumble, turning away to follow y/n. I don’t actually know the blondes name to be honest, and I also don’t have her number, but even if I did have her number I’d never call it.

Catching up with y/n is not as easy as it seems. Y/n’s fast, well they should be, they’re a hunter. But I’m taller, and my long legs give my advantage; like a predator chasing its prey. I reach out, my fingers ghosting their arm, but that’s all it take to grab them and yank them into my chest before spinning them around to face my direction. They don’t look at me, head hanging down, I hurt them. I know I hurt them. If I could, I would be theirs in an instant, but we’re hunters, we can’t live the apple pie life. We can’t live their dream.

I want them to look at me, I want to see their beautiful eyes, even if they show all the hurt I’ve caused them. “Look at me y/n” I growl, grabbing their chin gently with my thumb and finger, lifting their head up so their eyes can meet mine. My other hand lifting to move hair out of their face and brushing it behind their ear. Yet, they pulled away, like they were disgusted, grossed out. Like I was the sludge at the bottom of a bin.

“You’ve got to get over this crush thing” I yell harsher than I intend too, my arms waving between the two of us. Little do they know I’ve loved them for ages, but I can’t, we can’t. They want the apple pie life, and I can’t give them that, I want them to be happy, and they’d never be happy with just me. I miss the days where we were close, where I knew they didn’t like me back, where I was the only one getting hurt. Like the day where they fell asleep in the library slumped over a pile of lore books, hair scruffy like a mane around their face, a small dribble of drool escaping their lips, I missed the closeness between us, like when I picked them up, their warmth radiating off of them, their smell invading my senses. I loved the feeling of their skin on my lips as I tucked them into bed, kissing their forehead before whispering “I love you. Y/n” I miss the days where only I was the one getting hurt.

But now I have to break their heart.

“Look, y/n. I don’t feel… whatever it is I’m supposed to feel for you” I mutter, my heart shattering. I wanted nothing more to pin them against the wall and kiss them; tell them, show them how much I love them, but I can’t. They want the apple pie life, and I can’t give them that. So, I lie, through gritted teeth.

“But you told me you loved me!” They yell, eyes red with anger and hurt, oceans of tears pouring down their cheeks. Fuck, they had heard me that night, that’s what started all of this. Why did they have to hear me?

“I love you, y/n” I whisper, I see the hope in their eyes, and it hurts but I had to tell them I love them one last time, before I have to hurt them. “I love you so much…” My heart shatters, this isn’t the way I wanted to confess, damn why did I have to be a hunter, I want to give her that apple pie life! I feel frustrated, angry at myself at my life choices, I wish everything was different. “I love you so much… just not in that way” I finished. They gasped, stepping backwards slightly, stepping away from me, like they were wounded. I wish I could take care of them.

“I don’t want to lie to you, y/n. I care about you, I always will, but you and me, are never gonna happen.” I lie through my teeth. I reach out a hand, trying to at least wipe a few tears away, but they just slap at my hand, my skin starting to turn red from the contact. My hand stings, but the pain doesn’t hurt anywhere near as much as my heart.

I’ve got to finish what I’ve started, rip the plaster off. “Y/n” I sigh, lowering my arm away from them, “You need to move on”.

I can’t look at them any longer, I can’t see the pain I’m causing them, I should be the only one in pain. I leave, turning my back to them, I heard the thump of their body falling to the floor, the loud sobs as I walked away. I felt my hot tears burning my skin, as they break through my outer defences.

I try to convince myself that this is the best for them, for us. They can get the life they wanted, and I’ll go back to the only one being hurt. The way it should be, because Hunters like me, we don’t het happy ever afters.

--

Part one | Main masterlist

30 day writing  challenge

Main masterlist.

Summary: Using @creativepromptsforwriting 30 day challenge. I have decided to write the different prompts for different characters. Have edited some of the prompts to fit in more with an x reader insert.

Day 1: First kiss | Sam x reader

Day 2: No dialog | Dean x reader

Day 3: Use the words, kitchen, date and music | Eddie x reader

Day 4: pining | Eddie x reader

Day 5: 100 word drabble

Day 6: blackout

Day 7: Use the words, small town, bar, jukebox

Day 8: Finding a new hobby

Day 9: Heated debate

Day 10: Use the title, promises made, promises kept

Day 11: Dancing

Day 12: Explain readers motivation

Day 13: Write about the last thing the reader brought 

Day 14: Regret

Day 15: Girls night

Day 16: Thank you

Day 17: Car ride

Day 18: Use a song as a title

Day 19:  Write a story about taking the bus and just sitting there till the last station without the need to go anywhere.

Day 20:  Write about someone who lost a lot of weight

Day 21: Angst

Day 22: Use the words hearing aids, park bench and deep conversation in your next story.

Day 23: Dreaming

Day 24: Use the words, crown, dance and smile

Day 25: String lights and polaroid's 

Day 26: Use the title, Like waves in the ocean

Day 27: Write an ending without a beginning

Day 28: Confessions

Day 29: Nicknames

Day 30:  Write about someone getting their first tattoo

Firsts

Day 1: First kiss 

Sam x reader

Summary: Sam and the reader have been dating for a month. But how does their first kiss go? Will it go well, or could it end in chaos? 

a/n: Start of my 30 day challenge! Though lets be real this will take longer than 30 days XD Hope you enjoy, I really enjoyed writing this, just wish I was able to write longer stories, and hopefully one day I’ll build the courage to write a series.

warnings: Firsts, gentle, soft, super fluffy!

word count: 1113

You and Sam had been dating a little over a month. You were taking things slow. You did a weekly date night when you were both free, going out for coffee, walks and movies. It was nice, and it was slow. Just like the two of you wanted. It had taken to the second week of dating for you to build enough courage to slide your hand into his. You remember the feeling, his hand was warm, and calloused, but soft and gentle at the same time. He was gentle, he didn’t clench tight around your hand, but he didn’t leave it limp. It felt awkward and first, and Sam looked like a tomato as your hand touched his, but he smiled slightly. His facial expression communicating how much he loves you, his eyes sparkling with happiness, showing the unspoken words between the two of you.

Currently, the two of you were sat on your sofa, a plush grey coloured thing that had seen better days, but you covered it with a crochet blanket, and it looked like it was new again. Though Sam didn’t care, all that he cared about was being near you, even if you were sat on the other end of the couch, a gap between the two of you.

You’re not sure what movie Sam had put on for this week’s date night. To be honest you weren’t paying attention, instead you were watching your boyfriend. The way he laughs, his lips stretching across his face, white teeth parted as a guttural laugh escaped from his chest, his eyes squinting and crinkling up. The way he bit his soft red lip when the movie amped up, and he waited on the edge of the seat, eyes fixated on the screen.

You took a deep breath, shuffling closer towards him, closing the space. Sam looked at you out the corner of his eye, a small smile gracing his lips. They entranced you, and you found yourself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. Closing the space, you rested your head on Sam’s shoulder. You were stiff at first, and he froze when he felt your head lower down, resting against him. The most contact you two had, had since first dating.

“Relax y/n” He whispered, moving his head, and placing it on top of yours. You breathed out a sigh of relief, body easing, moulding into him. He was warm, comfortable and you knew you could spend your entire life curled up into the side of the gentle giant. The movie was ending, the credits started to roll, and you snuggled closer into his shoulder, nose in his neck breathing in his scent. He smelt of pine trees, with hints of amber and lavender. He smelt like home. He chuckled, dipping his head slightly and pecking your head. His lips were even softer than you imagined, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding you, so you tucked your head further into him.

“I’m sorry y/n. I should have asked first” He mumbled in shame, scared that you didn’t like it.

“I liked it” You breathed against his skin, causing a big smile to erupt across his face.

“What was that?” He smirked, having heard you clearly the first time, but wanting to see your face while you said it. You shuffled closer into his neck, breath fanning against his skin again, as you were about to repeat yourself. But his soft hand reached under your chin, lifting your head up, you closed your eyes, face and ears hot with embarrassment. “Open those pretty eyes y/n” He whispered gently.

You opened your eyes looking at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, what was that?” He continued, smirking a little.

“I liked it” You turned your head away, but he turned it back to look at him. You could see the happy smile spread across his face, his eyes showing all his adoration, his cheeks rosy. Your eyes flicked between his eyes and lips. God, you wanted to know what his lips would feel like on yours, and subconsciously, you poked your tongue out and licked your lips. Sam noticed straight away; you weren’t making anything subtle.

He moved his hand slowly, calculated. Making sure not to startle you, to not scare you away. Hand gently placed on the back of your neck, leaning in. You snapped out of your trance, when you felt his breath on your lips, your heart rate speeding up. Nodding at Sam, giving him permission, you closed your eyes. It felt like years before his lips touched yours.

They were plump. They were delicious, and you wanted more. But he pulled away.

“Are you sure your ok with this” He purred. You nodded, not trusting your voice, eyes fluttering slightly before you initiated the kiss this time, leaning in, placing a hand against his chest to steady yourself. You could feel the beating of his heart, it was fast and energetic, just like yours.

This time as your lips met you pressed a little harder, the gentle kiss was amazing, but you much preferred it this way. Feeling the pressure, as he pressed his lips back into yours. Your lips danced together, like they were made to be. You didn’t have to think about anything, in fact you didn’t think about anything. Your mind was surrounded by Sam, his smell, his touch, his taste.

He slipped his tongue out, tenderly pressing against your lips. You parted them slowly and he hesitantly entered your mouth, tongue exploring, until it met yours. Your tongues danced together, just like your lips did, fighting for dominance, and it wasn’t long until Sam won.

Though all good things must come to an end, and the two of you pulled apart, saliva connecting the two of you, your hand still resting on his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly as the two of you panted, gasping for air. His hand moved from the back of your neck, to play with a strand of your hair. You looked up at him, through your lashes. A beaming smile spreading across your face, Sam’s face like a mirror reflecting your expression.

You shifted around to your knees, putting more weight on his chest, leaning in quickly and pecking his lips. It was quick, lips ghosting against each other barely touching, and you just giggled at the pure happiness that was spread across Sam’s face.

“I’m guessing you liked that” Sam murmured. You smiled brightly, before snuggling back into his side, as he selected another movie. Sometimes the best date nights, were the ones that were spent inside.

----

Main master list | Challenge masterlist | Day 2

Request?

I have some free time over the next few weeks and I want to write more^-^

Any Requests?

This also could be topics: 1. “Silly, I would never let you fall” “Stop laughing I nearly died back there!” 2. “I am..I am not scared of (your choice~)” “Of course not. But I want to cuddle”

3. “Don’t tell me...” “It is not what it looks like” “How did this even happen?!”

4. “What are you doing here?!” “Wait what are you doing here?!”

5. “ But you are the villian!” “I do not care I quitt!”

6. “I missed you” “me or this?” “both”

7. “This is the worst day of my life” “Give me a second and I make one of the best”

8. “You cannot do this” “But dear, I already did”

9. “You wouldn’t dare!” “Oh, I would not be too sure about this”

10. “Do you trust me?” “Jump!”

11. “Leave her/ him alone!” “okay this works too”

12. “Calm down you are okay” “ I got you”

13. “This is not what I had planned” “No, but it is amazing”

You can decide if you would like to be Lover, friend, brother or sister ^^

I would do:

Supernatrual

Doctor Who

Sherlock

Lord of the rings

Avengers

Animes:

Attack on Titan

Bleach

One Piece

Dance with the Devils

Fairy Tail

and more...just ask =)

I am open for most topics with a few exceptions and nearly every character from the abbove some I might found tricky so please be not mad, if I say no.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 [𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑] [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏]

First Supernatural fic! A little short (in my standards), may conjure up another part if it goes well. This takes place just shortly after Sam gets his soul back and he's still coping.

SUMMARY: Y/N is a well renowned hunter who keeps to herself. After losing her sister (among many other family members) during a hunt to a devastating monster, she locks herself in for good with nothing but rage pumping through her veins.

It's rumored she holds a weapon that, besides the colt, can kill anything. It's become a big deal in the past, many hunters trying to take it for themselves, only to be cursed, injured or even dead in the process. That was until it was revealed who had given it to Y/N.

What will happen when she runs into the Winchester brothers during a hunt for the very thing that has destroyed her family?

Written in third person, female!reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

Very novel-esque writing. i'm sorry. i got carried away

ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 4,390

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

The forest lay draped in an eternal shroud of darkness, the silvery glow of the moon casting faint, ghostly beams that struggled to penetrate the dense web of ancient trees. The atmosphere was thick with an otherworldly chill, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Tall, gnarled trunks rose like skeletal sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the heavens in silent supplication.

Eerie whispers, like faint echoes from another realm, seemed to drift on the breeze. Soft susurrations carried the promise of secrets, secrets that the forest had guarded for centuries. These spectral utterances mingled with the rustle of leaves and the faint creaking of branches, creating a symphony of sound that was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

Amid this haunting tapestry of shadows and whispers, a lone figure moved with a desperate urgency. A slim young woman, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as her heart pounded in sync with the frantic rhythm of her footsteps. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble with her every stride, her bare feet sore from each scratch and scrape from twigs, rocks and leaves underneath, each footfall a desperate plea for escape.

The forest's inhabitants—creatures of the night and unseen beings—watched from their hidden sanctuaries, their eyes glinting with a luminescence. Yet, none could compare to the ominous presence that stalked the innocent woman.

In the ethereal twilight, illusions took shape like phantoms conjured from the darkest recesses of the mind. The voices of fellow hunters, once allies and friends, one even her own older sister, twisted and distorted into a chorus of accusation and betrayal. Their spectral forms advanced with a relentless determination, a parade of torment born from her own insecurities.

"Disgusting!"

"You're not strong enough! You don't belong with us!"

"You never did!"

"YOU ONLY HOLD US BACK!"

Countless insults and howls, hurls of venom and anger were thrown at the woman. As she sprinted through the labyrinthine woods, the cacophony of voices swirled around her like a tempest. The shadows themselves seemed to coil and writhe, mirroring her inner turmoil. But amidst the maelstrom of chaos, one face emerged from the torment—Y/N.

Y/N's expression was a mosaic of sorrow and anger, anger for all of this to be happening, anger for her sister as this creature manipulates her. Her eyes twin beacons of hope in the encroaching darkness. "Emily, Emily!" The voice behind her cried, far different from the others, "It's not real! Fight it!"

Emily turned around to face the direction of her sister's yells, her body jerking slightly with her movement as she catches a glimpse of Y/N, running with her arm reaching out to her. Quickly, she turned back, hopping over a large boulder she would have tripped over. Panic pumped through her veins, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest.

Amid the twisted labyrinth of trees, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she closed in on her sister. Her footsteps were swift and quick as if she drifted through the air, each one a prayer to reach Emily in time, to pull her back from the precipice of the consuming darkness. Emily's breath came in ragged gasps, her panicked sobs echoing like haunting melodies of a woman in white through the shadows drenching the forest.

"Emily! Emily, it's me!" Y/N yelled once more, a lifeline of vague comfort in the midst of it all. Her arms stretched out, fingers yearning to grasp onto the fleeting fabrics of the younger woman's clothing. Emily's movements were wild and uncontrolled, her form swaying as if caught in a cruel dance with harsh winds.

Their eyes locked, and Y/N's heart shattered at the sight of the expression on the face of her other half. "Emily, please, look at me. You're not alone. I'm right here." Her voice trembled with a potent blend of fear and nausea, a plea for Emily to recognize how real she is and how fake everything else is.

Emily's cries were a symphony of agony, tears streaking her dirt-stained cheeks. "Y/N, make it stop! Make it stop, please!" Her voice cracked. She reached out with trembling hands, fingers brushing Y/N's arm as if seeking refuge from the torment that consumed her.

Y/N's heart bled as she closed the final distance, her arms enfolding Emily in an embrace. She could feel the violent tremors that wracked her sister's body, the very essence of her being gripped by a bitter chill. "I'm here, Emily. I won't let it take you," Y/N whispered fiercely, her lips brushing against Emily's sweat-dampened forehead.

Yet, even as Y/N held onto her sister, a sinister current coursed through the air. The shadows seemed to thicken, a malevolent presence looming ever closer. Emily's cries escalated into agonized screams, her body convulsing with the force of the darkness that sought to claim her. Y/N's heart raced, every fiber of her being consumed by a profound and paralyzing fear.

As Emily's eyes met Y/N's, a chilling realization dawned – the vibrant blue that had once sparkled with life was fading, eclipsed by an encroaching grayness that spread like tendrils of frost. Y/N's grip tightened, her own voice trembling with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Emily, fight it! Hold on!"

Emily's voice wavered, words barely audible through the guttural moans that tore from her lips. "It's so cold, Y/N. Everything's so cold...so dark. Make it stop, please..." Her voice trailed off into a pained whimper, the shadows swallowing her words and leaving only the haunting echo of her suffering.

Y/N's fingers brushed against Emily's clammy skin, the chill of the shadows seeping into her very soul. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Y/N fought against the consuming void, her voice a soothing murmur. "I won't let it take you, dammit!" Anger boiled inside, "Get the hell off of her!"

Just as the darkness threatened to claim Emily completely, a distant rustling broke through the sound of struggle. Y/N's heart leaped as figures emerged from the shadows—the real, other hunters, their expressions etched with concern. They had followed Y/N's trail of yells and cries, arriving in the nick of time.

Y/N's voice trembled, a mild wave of relief as she sees the others. "Help her! We need to help her!" The hunters rushed forward, their hands reaching out to lend their strength. Together, they formed a shield against the darkness, a defiant stance against the malevolent force that sought to tear Emily from their grasp.

Emily's cries and convulsions intensified, her body wracked by spasms as the battle raged within her. Her hair was etched in a misty black, while her clothing was oozing with the same. Y/N's heart ached as she held onto her sister, her voice a fervent plea as she looked to the heavens. "Please, don't let her go! Not like this!" She sobbed. She held Emily tight, rocking her back and forth. She had lost so much, most of her family was already dead or turned. She'd barely consider other hunters as anything more than allies. She was terrified of becoming too attached.

And this is exactly why.

Silence. No movement, no cries, she didn't even breathe. Emily's petite figure went cold and limp in her big sister's arms, a shriek tearing through the cold air.

"EMILY!"

The veil of unconsciousness lifted, tearing Y/N from the depths of sleep into a realm of disorienting wakefulness. In an instant, her senses snapped to attention, an electric surge of panic and anxiety coursing through her veins. With a sudden jolt, she sat up, her chest heaving as if she had finished running a marathon. The room around her was shrouded in sunlight pooling in through the old vintage curtains.

A strangled cry forced itself through her lips, a raw and primal sound that echoed through the empty walls. It was a cry born of a terror she couldn't quite grasp. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the blankets below her hands, huffing.

Heartbeats drummed in her ears, a relentless rhythm that matched the frantic pace of her thoughts. The sweat-soaked tendrils of her hair clung to her forehead. She drew in ragged breaths, each inhalation a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the dream and the waking world.

Tears blurred her vision, the remnants of her subconscious torment mingling with the harsh reality of her surroundings. It took precious moments for the room to come into focus, the familiar contours of furniture and shadows coalescing into a semblance of order. Yet, even as the nightmare's grip loosened, a residual ache settled deep within her chest.

"Emily..." The word escaped her lips in a choked whisper, a tremor of grief lacing her voice. The name hung heavy in the air, a fragile thread connecting the terror of her dreams to the ache of her waking heart. She clung to the sheets as if they were a lifeline, her fingers curling into fists against the overwhelming flood of emotions.

With a final sigh, Y/N hunched over with her head down. Her eyes shut, a tear falling into her lap, the drop being absorbed by the thick comforter snug tight over her legs. 

Mornings were never easy for Y/N. Each new day dawned as a reminder of the relentless challenges she faced, a testament to her resilience in the face of an unforgiving life. Even on her days off, a lingering unease nestled itself within the corners of her mind, stuck unto the wonders of impending danger. The cocoon of security she had woven around herself provided a shield, but it could never quite dispel the remaining possibility of danger.

She went about her normal daily routine. Eat, bathe, study—it was a day-today cycle she'd repeat without fail. The steady rhythm of these activities became her anchor, a lifeline that kept her tethered to a semblance of normalcy she lacked during her teen hood.

The simple act of nourishing herself felt like a small victory. The warm water during her shower offered a brief reprieve, a blanket of warmth throughout her entire figure. It was possibly the only place she could ever truly let her guard down—ignoring the many knives and handguns tucked away in every corner and crevice. And when she immersed herself in her studies of the unknown, her mind was at ease, eager to learn more like an intelligent child at their elite school.

She'd decided to take a bath that morning. The sound of the faucet turning on was a familiar symphony, the rushing of water a comforting melody that eased her eardrums. The room soon filled with the gentle hiss and gurgle of water as it flowed, a lullaby of sorts to her senses.

As steam gradually wafted through the air, tendrils of warmth caressed her skin. With each passing second, the room transformed into a retreat, the steam swirling like ethereal wisps that danced in the air. She undressed with a easeful grace, each garment slipping off her body and pooling onto the floor in a crumpled heap. The clothing, once a shield against the world's harshness, now lay forgotten as Y/N stepped out of its confines. The act of disrobing was more than a physical shedding; it was a ritualistic release, a shedding of layers that went beyond mere fabric. Each piece of clothing fell away, like a separate piece of heavy armor.

With a swift step, Y/N stepped into the tub. The warm water greeted her like an old friend, pooling around her calves. A sigh escaped her lips as she settled into the depths, the water rising to envelop her in its comforting embrace. Her mind was clouded with bliss, the weight of the stress not yet touching her core.

The water cocooned her body, its warmth seeping into her very bones as she closed her eyes. With each breath, she felt herself surrendering to the serenity of the moment, the rhythmic ebb and flow of her surroundings lulling her into a state of an addictive detachment.

The world beyond the bathroom door seemed distant, the sounds of the day muffled by the sanctuary she had created.

With ease, her fingers trailed along her arms, the soft glide of her touch a soothing ritual that whispered of self-care. The steam-kissed air enveloped her, carrying with it the subtle scent of her favorite from the bath salts that had dissolved into the water. As she reclined against the porcelain expanse, her muscles gradually surrendered their tension, each fiber yielding to the tender persuasion of the tranquil waters.

Slowly, Y/N's legs found themselves lifting, her knees bending as she settled into the contours of the tub. Her feet, once grounded on the porcelain floor, now found their resting place on the opposite end. The gentle swish of water accompanied her movements, a loving chorus that serenaded her senses.

Closing her eyes once more, Y/N let her head rest against the cool edge of the tub, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her mind now ebbed and flowed like the gentle ripples that lapped against her skin. The warmth enveloped her limbs, cradling each contour similar to her mother cradling her very essence in her tender hold from when she was a young child.

Her fingers dipped below the surface, the gentle tug of water playing a delicate dance with her touch. She traced the outlines of her own hands, the pathways of her palms etching stories of resilience and strength from each hunt, each death and heartbreak. The subtle currents tugged at her fingers, a gentle reminder that life was ever-present, a force that moved in rhythm with her own heartbeat.

Minutes slipped through her grasp like grains of sand, a fluid passage of time that seemed to stretch and contract with each breath. Y/N allowed herself to linger in the embrace of the bath, the world beyond the bathroom door fading into the periphery as the symphony of her senses took center stage.

As the soft glow of midday sunlight danced through the window, casting a warm embrace upon the room, Y/N's attention gravitated towards the sprawling tome that lay open before her. However, the once discerning gaze of the seasoned hunter seemed to drift, lost in the labyrinth of printed words that now merged into an abstract mosaic, their essence slipping through the sieve of her distracted thoughts. Within the confines of her mind, conflicting currents clashed - the steadfast determination that usually defined her, and an unsettling undercurrent of restless uncertainty.

Amidst the encroaching mental haze, a sharp ring pierced the air, jolting Y/N from her reverie. Swift and purposeful, she retrieved the phone and pressed it to her ear, her voice shaking from the startling event. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end carried an air of authority, a trusted hunter's tone that brooked no pleasantries. "Y/N," the voice began, a solemn cadence that bore the weight of urgency. "Got a case for you."

Y/N's eyes remained fixed on the open book, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the pages, a rhythmic dance of distraction. "Mirian," she acknowledged, a blend of reverence and intrigue imbued in her tone. The name held weight, signifying that when the hunter spoke, it was time to heed.

"There've been incidents," the hunter continued, unfolding a tale of unsettling attacks that painted a somber tableau. "Looks like the Chimera's up to its old tricks again."

A shiver coursed through Y/N's spine, a subtle reaction that betrayed the gravity of the name. Memories of past encounters surged forth like specters, a haunting tapestry of battles fought and won against this formidable adversary. Especially Emily's death. Mirian’s words wove a narrative of danger and enigma, a reminder of the stakes at play.

Her responses remained poised, a veneer of calm that masked the storm beneath. "I understand," she murmured, her gaze breaking free from the book to meet the world outside the window. "And where did everything taken place?"

Location after location was recited by the older hunter, each name etching a somber mark on the canvas of Y/N's consciousness. She absorbed the information with a hunter's precision, each detail a clue to decipher, a thread to weave into a strategy. As the conversation progressed, an immediate plan unfurled in her mind, a mosaic of tactics and resolve that began to map out her forthcoming endeavors.

"Understood," Y/N finally affirmed, her voice a testament to her unwavering commitment to the task ahead. "I'll take it from here."

The unknown hunter's approval resonated through the line, a nod of satisfaction that lingered in the air. "Good. Other hunters are staying away from this one. Leaving it to you. Be vigilant, Y/N. Take it down for good."

The call ended, leaving Y/N alone with her ruminations once more. Her gaze returned to the open book, yet now, the printed words seemed to regain their clarity, each letter a beacon guiding her purpose. With a heavy sigh, Y/N shut the book, standing herself tall. Her gaze settled on the ancient leather-bound tome, its pages brimming with secrets of old, a knowledge bank she had accumulated over the years. With a decisive nod, she turned away, her steps carrying her towards the intricately carved wooden desk where her arsenal awaited.

Quickly, Y/N began to gather her essentials. She retrieved a leather-bound notebook, its pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams of past encounters. A sense of reverence accompanied each turn of the pages, a reminder of the blood swear and tears put into every hunt. Beside it lay an assortment of vials, each containing concoctions brewed from rare ingredients, tailored to counteract the unique attributes of queer entities.

Her attention shifted to the polished surface of the desk, where an array of weapons gleamed in the subdued light. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of a knife, its blade etched with protective runes to enhance its efficacy. A revolver lay nearby, silver bullets meticulously loaded.

Yet, the centerpiece of her arsenal rested against the desk's corner—a sickle of exquisite craftsmanship. The black handle was adorned with intricate patterns and symbols, a labyrinth of gold engravings that seemed to dance in the faint light. The handle fit perfectly in her hand, a natural extension of her unequaled wrath. The blade itself gleamed wickedly, a crescent moon of lethal sharpness. Its edge bore the scars of countless battles, slick and sharp—a gift from Death himself.

As Y/N lifted the sickle, a surge of familiarity coursed through her veins. This weapon was an extension of her identity, a manifestation of the strength and purpose that had driven her. Its weight was comforting, grounding her in the face of vengeful intent.

With her arsenal gathered, Y/N slung the duffel over her shoulder and made her way to the doorway. As her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the doorknob, her gaze flickered to a small weapon hanging by the frame. It was a talismanic blade, a last resort concealed within easy reach. The hilt bore sigils of protection, a final safeguard against unexpected threats.

The weight of the sickle at her side was a reminder of her internal hatred, a beacon of hope to finally destroy this Chimera once and for all. Y/N stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

Bobby's house exuded a sense of warmth and home, its well-worn interior serving as a refuge for the trio of hunters seeking respite from the world outside. The worn leather armchairs bore the marks of countless conversations and the shelves lining the walls were crammed with dusty books, relics of knowledge accumulated over decades of hunting. The air was tinged with the aroma of brewing coffee, a constant companion in the dimly lit haven.

Bobby sat hunched over his desk, his calloused fingers deftly dialing a number on his phone. The room seemed to hold its breath as the line connected, and he brought the receiver to his ear. His gruff voice echoed through the room as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

"Hey there, it's Bobby Singer. Listen, I've been hearin' about some strange happenings over in Pinehaven. Yeah, it's that little town off County Road 9. There've been a series of deaths – odd ones. People droppin' dead with no explanation, like they just gave up the ghost." Bobby's brows furrowed as he listened to the voice on the other end, his expression growing increasingly grim.

Sam and Dean Winchester exchanged wary glances, their senses heightened by the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the room. They leaned in, their attention fully captivated by Bobby's conversation.

"You don't say... Well, that sounds like a real mess. Yeah, it's been goin' on for a few weeks now. The victims – they're different ages, different backgrounds. Ain't nothin' connectin' 'em on the surface. And here's the kicker – their bodies are all found with these... bizarre markings carved into 'em. Like some sort of symbol."

Bobby's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and intrigue as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Yeah, I know it sounds like some pagan ritual, but that's where it gets even weirder. There's nothin' in any lore I've come across that matches these symbols. It's like some new kind of nasty is in town."

Sam leaned forward, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "So, what's our next move, Bobby?"

Bobby glanced at Sam and Dean before turning his attention back to the call, hanging up. "Look, I've tried gettin' some hunters interested in checkin' it out, but they're all keepin' their distance. Say it's too risky. Hell, even Garth – and you know he's usually up for a wild goose chase – turned it down."

Dean chuckled under his breath. "Well, Garth's got a point. But if it's got you scratching your head, Bobby, it's definitely worth a look."

Bobby nodded in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes. "Damn right, it is. I've got a bad feelin' about this one. We'll head over to Pinehaven, check out the crime scenes, see if we can find any leads."

Sam and Dean exchanged a nod. "You think it could be witches?" Sam asks.

Bobby scratched his scruffy beard in thought, his expression contemplative. "Could be, given the nature of the attacks and the symbols that've been showin' up around town. But we won't jump to conclusions just yet. Gotta gather more information before we start pointin' fingers."

Dean's lips curled into a half-smile, "Well, you know us, Bobby. We're always up for a good ol' witch hunt."

Bobby chuckled, a gruff sound that held a warm combination of amusement and fondness. "Just make sure you don't stir up trouble before you've got solid evidence. Last thing we need is a town full of pitchfork-wielding locals."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We'll be careful, Bobby. Promise."

With a satisfied nod, Bobby clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, gather your gear and hit the road. I'll keep diggin' on my end, see if I can find any lore or references that might give us a clue."

Dean couldn't help but interject with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Bobby, remember that time in Oklahoma when you tried to use a hex bag and ended up with green hair?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he shot a pointed glare at Dean. "Oh, don't you start with that again, boy. You two idjits were laughin' your heads off, like a couple of hyenas."

Sam smirked, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Come on, Bobby, you gotta admit, you rocked that look."

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Just make sure you boys pack some extra salt. We're dealin' with somethin' that's givin' hunters the heebie-jeebies."

With a shared glance, the two stood, their resolve strengthened. As they gathered their gear and headed for the door, Bobby's voice carried after them, a stern warning. "And no more hex bags, you hear me?"

The echoes of their laughter lingered in the air as they shut the door. As Sam and Dean made their way toward the sleek black Impala, the gravel crunching under their boots, Sam couldn't help but break the silence.

"You really think this case is the real deal? Witches? Haven't seen any Pagan witches lately."

Dean slid his hands into his jacket pockets, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. "Bobby seems to think so. And you know how he is with research."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, you're right."

Dean's expression turned more serious as he locked eyes with his brother. "Just gotta stay sharp, Sammy. If this thing's as nasty as Bobby says, we need to be on our A-game."

Sam's gaze held a mixture of determination and concern. "I know, Dean. But something just doesn't feel right. If a bunch of hunters won't go near that thing, it can't be a witch. They woulda already tackled it by now."

Dean's jaw tightened, his gaze distant for a moment before he met Sam's eyes again. "Yeah, I noticed that too. It's like everyone's walking on eggshells. We'll keep digging. But first, let's focus on finding out what's behind all these deaths and disappearances."

As they slid into the Impala's front seats, the engine roared to life with a familiar rumble. The brothers shared a determined glance before Dean put the car in gear.

Got me all fluttery n shiiii.....

Hello :) i wanted to know how the SPN boys would react to a plus sized reader? like big boned and curvy?

Plus-Sized reader (SPN pref!)

a/n: as a chubby girl i’ve been so excited to write this!!! i hope you enjoy babes!!!

warnings: plus size reader, i guess slightly suggestive, some tiny angst!

Dean:

dean LOVES your body so much

your thighs are like MMMMHMMMH

and your hip dips are like AHAHHHHHHH

and when you two lay together and he can feel where your side kind of rolls in on itself

he falls in love even more

he seriously thinks you’re the most beautiful person

he def buys you lingere so you can model for him

“pleaseeeee? your curves would look beautiful, sweetheart.”

if you ever feel bad about yourself he will get so sad

"You don't deserve to hate yourself. If you can't learn to appreciate yourself, then let me love you."

he loves you and your curves so much

his seritonin

your stretch marks make dean go fucking crazy

—

Sam:

sam fucking ADORES every BIT of you

he can pick you up idc

have you SEEN his muscles?

let him give you piggy back rides and hold you like a bride because he loves it

he loves your whole being

he insists you’re the little spoon so he can feel your whole body against his

he gives you hickeys all over your thighs because they’re just so soft and amazing and his favorite ever

if you ever feel bad about yourself he will just “no.”

"I hate seeing you upset. Don't... don't do this to yourself. I love you,"

he never wants you to doubt yourself

ever

but if you do

you better talk to him

—

Castiel:

worships you

all the time

he cuddles into your body 24/7/365

your curves are like heaven to him

he’ll trace your figure with his hands and fingers all the time

“you are gorgeous, my beautiful y/n.”

he just loves you so much

every inch

he dosent understand when you talk bad about yourself

he’s like “wtf you’re so gorgeous… did i miss something?”

he gets sad for you because he wishes you could see yourself how he sees you

“y/n… you are the most amazing person i’ve ever met. your looks are some of gods best work. please, do not doubt yourself again.”

—

Crowley:

crowley loves himself a chubby person

he’s just so mesmerized

if you EVER wear fishnets or cropped clothes or anything

he’s on his knees in a SECOND

like i’m so fr

he gets life from looking at and feeling your body

knowing you’re his???

amazing.

he hates it when you talk bad about yourself

stretch marks??? babe. everyone has them. yours are so cute

cellulite? just a map of where you’ve been. it’s gorgeous

Hip dips???? lemmie grab them while i fuck you senseless!!! so so so so so pretty!

he just loves every inch of your pretty body

he buys you clothes that show off more of you

no words just 2005 Dean Winchester

Emotionless [Dean Winchester]

Description: Sammy dies and it hits Dean and the reader hard. 

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, Sam actually dies. 

They were too late. He had already bled out by time Y/N and Dean got to him. The ghouls that took on Adam and Kate's bodies cut Sam's wrists and hit the arteries. Along with the ripping his heart out and creating more gashes in his body, it didn't take long.

They killed the ghouls and gathered Sam's body. Y/N insisted on giving him a proper funeral, but Dean said "He died like a hunter, he deserves to go out like one.". He burned Sam's body. Y/N stood by him the whole time as Dean's face remained emotionless.

Typical Dean. Trying to be strong for the people he loves.

§§§

It's been two days. Dean, of course, threw himself into work. Y/N on the other hand, took care of Dean. Forcing him to at least drink and eat. Sleep didn't come easy for either of them. They were both exhausted but every time they closed their eyes all they saw was Sam lying on the table.

Y/N was also getting pissed at Dean. Not because of anything he's done, but because of what he's not doing. He hasn't cried, he's hasn't started the grieving process.

"Dean, do you need anything?" Y/N asks as she stands behind him. He's got Sam's laptop, his dad's journal and multiple newspapers.

"I'm fine." He answers, paying no mind to his girlfriend.

"Dean-."

"I'm busy."

"Would you stop for five minutes and just listen to me you jackass?!" She yells. Dean rises from his chair quickly, making it screech.

"What do you want me to listen about?!"

"You need to stop blocking your emotions out. This isn't good for you." Y/N explains. "You've thrown yourself into another case, you haven't cried, quivered, anything."

"Because I don't need to." Dean replies.

"Yes you do! Don't you get it?!" She yells. "Sam isn't coming back Dean! He's dead, we burned him. So yell, scream, cry. Just do something! Please, just let me know the Dean I know and love is still in there somewhere! Take it out on me if you have to!" Y/N cries.

Dean takes one look at the tear that rolls down her face and he immediately starts crying. Y/N walks to him and wraps her arms around him and he wraps his arms around her.

"I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing!" Dean sobs. "I'm feeling all of these things and I don't know how to handle it. Sammy is dead and I can't bring him back." Y/N pulls away to look at his face, she puts her hands on his cheeks and wipes his tears. "He's the only family I have. What am I supposed to do now?"

"You still have me, Dean. I will never, ever leave you. And I don't know what we're going to do next, but I'll be right by your side, ok? I'll always be by your side." Dean nods. "You need to hurt before you heal. You can't just push your feelings away, you're human. It's only natural to have these emotions, and I'm a woman, so your emotions won't scare me off or make me not love you anymore, so please for the love of god, don't feel like you need to be strong for me."

"I've told you how much I love you right?" Dean whispers. Y/N nods and Dean leans down to kiss her.

"I love you too Dean."

Stitches [Dean Winchester]

Description: Y/N stitches up Dean after a hunt.

The Impala goes around a sharp curve and Dean groans as he slides in his seat.

"If I die, I'm never speaking to you again."

"No shit." Y/N deadpans from the drivers seat. Dean groans again as the car straightens out. "Dean it's literally a top layer cut. You're going to be fine."

"Woman-."

§§§

"Alright, Winchester. Take off your shirt, and hop up on the counter."

"You're bossy." Dean says as he pulls his shirt over his head. Y/N turns to grab a vial of lidocaine, a needle and a stitch kit. She squats down to grab a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide and Dean trails his eyes down her backside. She turns back to him and Dean diverts his eyes quickly.

"You've got to be when you're dealing with a Winchester." She smirks. Dean rolls his eyes and scoots back further on the counter. Y/N grabs a rag and sets it under the cut. "Ready?" Dean nods and Y/N starts squirting the peroxide into his cut.

"Son of a bitch." Dean hisses.

"Would you just hold still?" Y/N asks as she presses the tip of the needle inside his cut.

"I'm sorry I don't like needles."

"It could be worse. I'm going in through the cut, not breaking skin again, and I'm going slow so it doesn't burn." Y/N says as she injects the lidocaine in different areas.

Dean admires her features as she gets ready to stitch him up. Beautiful smile, gorgeous eyes. How could someone not be attracted to a woman like her? She's beautiful, feisty, incredibly strong and very intelligent. Not the best driver, but everyone has their faults.

"Last time someone looked at me like that, Winchester, I got laid."

"Do you want to get laid?" Dean smirks.

"Always." Y/N glances up at him through her eyelashes. Then before Dean could reply, she stuck the needle through his skin.

After the last stitch is done, Y/N stands up and is face to face with Dean. Dean looks into her eyes and then to her lips. He experiments by leaning and closer, as does she. Once their lips press together, Dean lets out a deep breath. He pulls away, but their faces stay close together.

"Thank you." Y/N nods and backs away to put her supplies back in their bag. Dean jumps off the counter and grabs her by the waist. Y/N drops everything on the floor and turns to him. He presses his body into hers and grabs her ass. "Up." Y/N jumps and wraps her legs around his waist. He walks over to the counter and places her on it, then pushes her legs apart and stands between them. He grabs the back of her neck and starts kissing her again. Y/N reaches her arms around his neck and puts her hand in his hair. Dean pulls away for a second. "Are you ok with this?" Y/N looks up to the ceiling and Dean starts kissing her neck.

"More than ok." She breathes.

§§§

The morning after they woke up and packed their stuff up, considering they had to go back home today. Y/N and Dean took a shower together to "Save water". Deans idea.

While Dean was shaving, Y/N got dressed. She had her normal outfit, consisting of a pair of jeans, a leather jacket and a pair of boots, but she was missing a shirt. Hers were all dirty, mostly with blood, dirt or whatever else decided to get on her shirt while hunting. She thought for a second.

I can't go shirtless.

Then she looked around the room and spotted Dean's bag.

Yahtzee.

Dean always overpacked. So, she walked over and unzipped his bag.

"Clean clothes are always on top."

She finds a green shirt and nods. She zips Dean's bag and puts the shirt on, she tucks it into her jeans so it's not as noticeable.

After a while Dean walks out, ready to go.

"Ready sweetheart?" Y/N nods and grabs her bags. Dean notices something as she walks past. She smells like him. Didn't she take a shower? Then he recognizes the shirt. The one he was going to wear today, but he decided on the blue one instead. "Is that my shirt?"

"Uh huh." Y/N nods as she smirks at Dean.

"You know, if it were anyone else I'd be mad. But you just look so beautiful in my clothes." Dean walks over and kisses her cheek before grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room.

"My shirts were dirty."

"We should just get rid of all of your shirts."

Sins of the Father - Chapter 1

Cold are the Hands of the Saints

The fluorescent lights of the small-town diner buzzed faintly overhead, casting a harsh glow on the worn vinyl booths and chipped Formica tables. The air was thick with the smell of greasy burgers and stale coffee, a scent that seemed to cling to every surface in these roadside pit stops.

In a corner booth, Sam and Dean Winchester sat across from each other, their broad shoulders hunched over the table as they spoke in low voices. Dean's green eyes darted occasionally towards the counter where their father, John, stood placing their order. The elder Winchester brother's fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the sticky tabletop.

"I'm telling you, Sammy," Dean muttered, leaning in closer to his brother, "something's not right about this case. The vic's injuries... they don't match up with any monster we've ever seen before."

Sam ran a hand through his shaggy hair, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Maybe it's something new? Or a hybrid we haven't encountered yet?"

Dean snorted, shaking his head. "Great. Just what we need. Some franken-freak tearing up civilians."

Across the diner, you sat alone in a booth, your green cat-like eyes fixed on the Winchester family. Your fingers absently traced the rim of your coffee cup, the liquid long since gone cold. You barely noticed the waitress who refilled it, giving her only the barest nod of acknowledgment.

Your gaze never left the hunters, drinking in every detail. The way Dean's jaw clenched as he spoke, the nervous energy radiating off of Sam, the commanding presence of John even as he simply stood at the counter. These were the men responsible for your mother's death. These were the men you had sworn to destroy.

You shifted slightly in your seat, feeling the familiar weight of the blade concealed at your hip. It would be so easy to end it now, to leap across the diner and plunge the knife into John Winchester's back before he even knew what hit him. But no... that wasn't the plan. You needed to be patient, to make them suffer as you had suffered.

Your eyes narrowed as you watched John return to the table, sliding into the booth next to Dean. The family resemblance was unmistakable, from the set of their shoulders to the wary alertness in their eyes. Hunters, through and through.

"Alright, boys," John's gruff voice carried across the diner. "Fill me in on what you've found so far."

You leaned back in your booth, straining to catch every word. Intel was crucial, and any information about their current case could prove useful in your quest for vengeance.

Sam cleared his throat, pulling out a small notebook from his jacket pocket. "Vic number one, Michael Reeves, 32. Found in the woods outside of town, throat torn out. Coroner's report said it looked like an animal attack, but..."

"But what?" John pressed, his dark eyes fixed on his younger son.

"But there were other injuries," Sam continued, his voice lowering. "Bruising patterns that didn't match any animal we know of. And... symbols carved into the skin. Post-mortem."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "That's not all. Two nights ago, another body turned up. Sarah Miller, 28. Same MO - throat ripped out, weird bruising, freaky symbols. But get this - the symbols were different from the first vic."

John's brow furrowed, his weathered face etched with concern. "Any connection between the victims?"

Sam shook his head. "None that we could find. Different social circles, different parts of town. Only thing they had in common was they both grew up here."

You watched as John rubbed a hand over his face, the lines around his eyes deepening. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine those eyes widening in fear and pain as you exacted your revenge. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

The waitress returned, laden with plates of greasy diner fare. The conversation at the Winchester table died down as they tucked into their meals, but their postures remained tense, alert. They knew they were dealing with something dangerous, something unknown.

If only they knew the real danger was sitting just across the room, watching their every move.

You sipped your coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. Your human half craved sustenance, even as your demon blood sang for violence and chaos. It was a constant struggle, balancing the two sides of your nature. But that struggle had made you stronger, more determined. You wouldn't rest until John Winchester and his precious sons lay dead at your feet.

As you watched, Dean suddenly stiffened, his hand moving subtly towards the weapon you knew he kept concealed beneath his jacket. His eyes scanned the diner, a predator searching for a threat. For a heart-stopping moment, his gaze swept over your booth.

You kept your expression neutral, your posture relaxed. Just another patron enjoying a late-night coffee. Nothing to see here.

Dean's eyes moved on, finding nothing out of the ordinary. You allowed yourself a small, satisfied smirk. These vaunted hunters, so sure of their skills, and yet they couldn't sense the half-demon sitting mere feet away.

The Winchesters finished their meal quickly, their conversation muted and tense. As they rose to leave, you caught snatches of their plans - research at the local library, interviews with the victims' families. Standard hunter procedure.

You waited until they had exited the diner before standing, tossing a few crumpled bills on the table. As you pushed open the door, the cool night air hit your face, carrying with it the scent of impending rain and... something else. Something darker, more primal.

You melted into the shadows of the parking lot, your eyes fixed on the taillights of the Impala as it roared out onto the highway. Let the Winchesters chase their monster. Let them wear themselves out hunting shadows.

You had all the time in the world to plan your revenge. And when the moment finally came, when you stood over John Winchester's broken body and watched the light fade from his eyes... it would all be worth it.

The hunt was on, but the Winchesters didn't even know they were the prey.

The night air was thick with the promise of rain as you stalked through the quiet streets of the small town. Your footsteps were silent, your movements fluid and predatory. The thrill of the hunt coursed through your veins, a heady mixture of anticipation and bloodlust.

Your target was a middle-aged man stumbling home from the local bar, reeking of cheap whiskey and desperation. He never saw you coming. One moment he was fumbling with his keys, and the next, your hand was clamped over his mouth, dragging him into the shadows of a nearby alley.

The kill was quick, efficient. You'd had plenty of practice over the years. As the light faded from his eyes, you felt a familiar rush of power, your demon half reveling in the violence. But there was no time to savor the moment. You had work to do.

With practiced ease, you carved the symbols into the cooling flesh. Meaningless lines and swirls, designed to look occult and sinister to the untrained eye. You knew the Winchesters would pour over these marks, searching for meaning where there was none. The thought brought a cruel smile to your lips.

You arranged the body carefully, making sure it would be found come morning. Then, with one last glance at your handiwork, you melted back into the shadows, leaving no trace of your presence behind.

The walk back to your motel was uneventful, the streets deserted at this late hour. As you approached your room, you paused, scanning the parking lot for any sign of the distinctive black Impala. Nothing. Good. The Winchesters were still oblivious to your presence.

Inside your dingy motel room, you stripped off your blood-stained clothes, stuffing them into a plastic bag to be burned later. The shower was lukewarm at best, but it felt good to wash away the night's activities. As you toweled off, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the foggy mirror. 

Your green eyes stared back at you, cat-like pupils dilated in the dim light. You ran a hand through your damp curls, pushing them back from your face. Your gaze traveled down, taking in the soft curves of your body. You weren't exactly the picture of a ruthless half-demon assassin, but that had worked to your advantage more times than you could count.

Dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, you settled onto the sagging mattress, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. The familiar ritual of lighting up calmed your nerves, the nicotine a poor substitute for the rush of the kill, but it would do for now.

As you exhaled a plume of smoke towards the water-stained ceiling, your eyes fell on the faded photograph propped against the lamp. Your mother's face smiled back at you, frozen in time. You reached out, tracing her features with a gentle finger.

"Soon, Mom," you murmured, your voice rough with emotion. "I'll make them pay for what they did to you."

Memories flooded back, unbidden and unwelcome. Your childhood, such as it was - always on the move, never staying in one place long enough to make friends. Your mother, teaching you to control your demonic abilities, showing you how to blend in with the humans around you. She had been your whole world.

And then there was your father, a vague, shadowy figure in your memories. He had died when you were young, leaving you and your mother alone against a world that would never understand or accept you. You wondered, not for the first time, if things might have been different if he had lived.

Your thoughts drifted to Jake, your ex-fiancé. Another human who had promised to love you, demon blood and all. What a joke that had turned out to be. The image of him wrapped around that barely legal waitress still made your blood boil. You took a long drag on your cigarette, willing the anger away. Jake didn't matter anymore. None of them did.

All that mattered now was revenge.

You crushed out your cigarette and reached for the laptop, pulling up the local news sites. Nothing yet about the body you'd left behind, but it was only a matter of time. You allowed yourself a grim smile, imagining the Winchesters' reactions when they discovered another victim.

As you scrolled through the articles, a notification popped up - an email from one of your less savory contacts. You opened it, scanning the contents quickly. A slow, predatory grin spread across your face. It seemed the Winchesters had been busy tonight as well.

According to your source, Sam and Dean had spent hours at the local library, poring over old books and newspapers. They'd left looking frustrated and empty-handed. No surprise there - they were chasing ghosts, following breadcrumbs that led nowhere.

You closed the laptop, leaning back against the headboard. Everything was falling into place. The Winchesters were dancing to your tune, and they didn't even know it. Soon, very soon, you'd have your chance at John Winchester. And when that moment came, you'd make him suffer for every second of pain he'd caused you.

Sleep was elusive that night, your mind too wired with plans and possibilities. As the first light of dawn crept through the threadbare curtains, you rose, dressing quickly in nondescript jeans and a hoodie. Time to see how your little show had played out.

The streets were just beginning to come to life as you made your way towards the alley where you'd left your victim. As you rounded the corner, you saw exactly what you'd been hoping for - police tape cordoning off the area, a small crowd of onlookers already gathering.

You joined the throng, adopting the wide-eyed, shocked expression of a concerned citizen. It wasn't long before you overheard the whispered conversations around you - another body found, just like the others. The town was in a panic, and the police were out of their depth.

Perfect.

As you watched, a familiar black car pulled up to the scene. Your heart rate quickened as Sam and Dean Winchester stepped out, their expressions grim. They flashed fake badges at the officers, ducking under the police tape to examine the body.

You studied them intently, drinking in every detail. The way Dean's jaw clenched as he knelt beside the corpse, the furrow in Sam's brow as he questioned the officers. They were good, you had to admit. Professional. Thorough.

But not good enough.

You allowed yourself one last, lingering look at the brothers before slipping away from the crowd. Your work here was done, for now. It was time to prepare for the next phase of your plan.

Back at the motel, you packed your meager belongings with practiced efficiency. You never stayed in one place for long - a habit ingrained from childhood. As you zipped up your duffel bag, your eyes fell once again on the photograph of your mother.

You picked it up, running your thumb over her smiling face. "I miss you, Mom," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I wish you were here. You'd know exactly what to do."

But she wasn't here. She was gone, ripped away from you by John Winchester and his crusade against all things supernatural. He hadn't cared that your mother had never hurt anyone, that she had turned her back on her demonic nature to raise you. All he'd seen was a monster to be eliminated.

You tucked the photograph carefully into your jacket pocket, close to your heart. Then, with one last glance around the room to ensure you'd left no trace, you shouldered your bag and stepped out into the morning sun.

The day stretched ahead of you, full of possibilities. You had errands to run, preparations to make. The Winchesters would be busy with their investigation, chasing leads that went nowhere. That gave you time to set the stage for your next move.

As you walked down the street, your mind raced with plans and contingencies. You'd need supplies - weapons, of course, but also the tools for your more... specialized abilities. The thought brought a smirk to your lips. John Winchester might be a legendary hunter, but he'd never faced anything quite like you before.

Your first stop was a small occult shop tucked away in a side street. The bell above the door jingled as you entered, the smell of incense and old books filling your nostrils. The proprietor, a wizened old woman with knowing eyes, watched you warily as you browsed the shelves.

You selected your items carefully - candles, herbs, a few arcane symbols etched into stone. Nothing too obvious, nothing that would raise suspicion if found. As you paid, the old woman's gnarled hand brushed against yours.

"Be careful, child," she murmured, her eyes searching yours. "The path you're on... it's dangerous."

You met her gaze steadily, letting a hint of your true nature show in your eyes. "I'm counting on it," you replied, your voice low and filled with promise.

The woman recoiled slightly, a flicker of fear crossing her face. You left the shop without another word, the weight of your purchases a comforting presence in your bag.

Your next stop was less mystical, but no less important - a hardware store on the edge of town. Here, you loaded up on more mundane supplies. Rope, duct tape, a new set of sharp knives. The clerk raised an eyebrow at your purchases, but you flashed him a charming smile. Just a girl preparing for a camping trip, nothing to see here.

As you exited the store, a familiar rumble caught your attention. The Impala cruised past, Sam and Dean inside, deep in conversation. Your hand instinctively went to the knife concealed at your hip, your body tensing for a fight.

But no - not yet. The time wasn't right. You forced yourself to relax, to blend into the background as the car passed. Soon, you promised yourself. Soon.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparations. You scouted locations, looking for the perfect spot to spring your trap. You made contact with a few local demons, calling in favors and gathering information. By the time the sun began to set, you felt ready. Or as ready as you could be, given the circumstances.

Back in your new motel room - a different one, on the other side of town - you spread out your supplies on the bed. Weapons, both mundane and mystical. Charms and wards to conceal your presence from the Winchesters' prying eyes. Everything you'd need to bring down a family of hunters.

As you worked, methodically checking and rechecking your gear, your thoughts drifted once again to your mother. What would she think of you now, plotting revenge against the man who killed her? Would she be proud of your determination, your skill? Or would she be horrified at the darkness that had taken root in your soul?

You pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. It didn't matter what she would think. She was gone, and nothing would bring her back. All that was left was vengeance, cold and bitter and necessary.

As night fell, you stood at the window, looking out over the quiet town. Somewhere out there, the Winchesters were planning their next move, oblivious to the danger that lurked in the shadows. Let them have their night of peace, you thought. It would be their last.

Tomorrow, the real hunt would begin. And this time, you would be the predator, not the prey.

Sins of the Father - Chapter 2

That Which Holds No Mercy

The bustling noise of the restaurant washed over you as you picked at your dinner, your mind preoccupied with plans and schemes. The food was bland, barely registering on your taste buds, but it was necessary fuel for the tasks ahead. You glanced around the crowded dining room, cataloging exits and potential threats out of habit.

As the meal dragged on, you felt the pressing need for a bathroom break. With a sigh, you pushed back from the table and stood, weaving your way through the maze of chairs and tables. You were so focused on your destination that you didn't notice the broad-shouldered figure stepping into your path until it was too late.

The collision was jarring, nearly knocking you off your feet. Strong hands gripped your arms, steadying you, and you found yourself staring up into a pair of startlingly green eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as recognition hit you like a physical blow.

Dean Winchester.

Every muscle in your body tensed, fight-or-flight instincts screaming at you to act. Your fingers twitched, longing to reach for the concealed blade at your hip. It would be so easy to end it right here, to plunge the knife into his gut and watch the life drain from those green eyes.

But no. Not here. Not now. Not with so many witnesses.

You forced yourself to relax, to adopt a neutral expression as Dean's mouth curved into a flirtatious grin.

"Whoa there, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. "You okay? Didn't mean to bowl you over like that."

You swallowed hard, willing your voice to remain steady. "I'm fine," you managed, taking a step back to put some distance between you. "Just wasn't watching where I was going."

Dean's grin widened, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl. "Well, I'm not complaining about the view. How about I buy you a drink to make up for it?"

The urge to vomit warred with the desire to rip his throat out. You settled for an awkward smile, edging around him. "Thanks, but I really need to use the restroom," you muttered, shouldering past him without waiting for a response.

Once safely locked in a bathroom stall, you leaned against the cool metal wall, your heart pounding. That had been too close. You'd nearly blown your cover, nearly ruined everything in a moment of blind rage. You took several deep breaths, forcing yourself to calm down.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, you saw Dean back at his table, deep in conversation with Sam. Your eyes narrowed as you watched them, noting the way Dean kept glancing towards the bathrooms. Had he sensed something off about you?

You couldn't risk staying any longer. Tossing a handful of bills on the counter, you made your way to the exit, resisting the urge to look back. As the cool night air hit your face, you allowed yourself a small sigh of relief. That had been a close call, but you'd managed to keep your cover intact. For now.

Dean Winchester couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over him since his encounter with the mysterious woman. He sat across from Sam at their table, his food forgotten as he recounted the strange interaction.

"I'm telling you, Sammy," he said, his voice low and intense, "there was something off about her. The way she looked at me… it was like she wanted to tear me apart."

Sam raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. "You sure you're not just upset because a girl didn't fall for your charms for once?"

Dean shook his head emphatically. "This was different. It was like… like grabbing onto a coiled spring, all tension and potential energy. For a second there, I thought she was gonna lunge at me or something."

As if on cue, the woman in question emerged from the bathrooms. Dean watched as she hastily paid her bill and made a beeline for the exit, her body language screaming discomfort and urgency.

"See that?" Dean muttered, nodding towards the retreating figure. "Tell me that doesn't look suspicious."

Sam frowned, his earlier amusement fading as he observed the woman's hasty departure. "Okay, yeah, that is a bit weird. You think she's connected to our case somehow?"

Dean shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the door. "I don't know, man. But my gut's telling me there's more to her than meets the eye."

As they watched through the window, the woman climbed into a car and sped away. Dean quickly jotted down the license plate number on a napkin, his hunter's instincts kicking into high gear.

"We should look into her," he said, pocketing the napkin. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Sam nodded, already reaching for his laptop. "Let's head back to the motel. I can run the plates through the system, see what comes up."

The drive back to the motel was quiet, both brothers lost in thought. Dean found himself replaying the encounter over and over in his mind, trying to pinpoint exactly what had set off his internal alarms.

It wasn't just the way she had looked at him, though that had been unsettling enough. It was the way her whole body had seemed to radiate barely contained violence, like a predator forced to play at being prey. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he remembered the flash of… something… he'd seen in her eyes. It had been there and gone in an instant, but it had left him feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet without even knowing it.

As they pulled into the motel parking lot, Dean shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe the stress of the case was getting to him. But deep down, he knew better than to ignore his instincts. They'd saved his life more times than he could count.

Inside their room, they found John stretched out on one of the beds, his face pale and drawn. He cracked open an eye as they entered, managing a weak smile.

"Hey, boys," he croaked. "Any progress on the case?"

Sam shook his head, setting up his laptop on the small table. "Nothing concrete yet. How are you feeling?"

John grimaced. "Like I got hit by a truck. Remind me never to eat at that diner again."

Dean chuckled, though it sounded forced even to his own ears. "Will do, Dad. Get some rest, okay? We've got this covered."

As John drifted back to sleep, Sam pulled up the police database, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Dean hovered over his shoulder, anxiously waiting for results.

"Got it," Sam murmured after a few minutes. "The car's registered to a June L/n." He pulled up a driver's license photo, showing it to Dean. "This her?"

Dean leaned in, studying the image. It showed a woman in her late thirties or early forties, with long dark hair and a familiar set to her jaw. But the eyes were all wrong - warm and inviting, nothing like the cold, angry gaze that had pinned him earlier.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "That's not her. The girl I ran into was younger, maybe late twenties? And her eyes…" He trailed off, unable to put into words the intensity he'd seen in those green orbs.

Sam frowned, scrolling through the file. "Well, there's not much else here. No priors, no outstanding warrants. Looks like a dead end."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "There's gotta be something we're missing. That girl, she's involved in this somehow. I can feel it."

Sam closed the laptop with a sigh. "Look, Dean, I believe you. If you say there was something off about her, I trust your judgment. But right now, we've got nothing concrete to go on. Our best bet is to focus on the case we actually have evidence for."

Dean nodded reluctantly, knowing his brother was right. But as he headed for the shower, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important. Something that might come back to bite them if they weren't careful.

Under the hot spray of the shower, Dean's mind wandered back to that moment in the restaurant. He could still feel the tension in her body as he'd steadied her, could still see the flash of… recognition? Hatred? He wasn't sure, but it had been intense, whatever it was.

He scrubbed at his skin harder than necessary, as if he could wash away the lingering unease. His instincts had been screaming at him from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, a warning klaxon that he'd learned to trust implicitly over the years. But why? What was it about this woman that had set off every alarm bell in his head?

As he stepped out of the shower and toweled off, Dean caught sight of himself in the foggy mirror. He looked tired, the weight of too many hunts and too little rest etched into the lines around his eyes. But beyond that, he looked… unsettled. Like he'd glimpsed something he wasn't meant to see, something that had shaken his understanding of the world.

Pulling on a clean t-shirt and sweats, Dean emerged from the bathroom to find Sam already asleep, his long frame sprawled across one of the beds. John was still out cold on the other, leaving Dean to settle onto the small couch in the corner of the room.

As he lay there in the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of his family's breathing, Dean couldn't stop his mind from racing. He kept seeing those green eyes, filled with a rage so potent it had nearly knocked him off his feet. Who was she? What was her connection to their case? And why couldn't he shake the feeling that they'd just stumbled onto something much bigger and more dangerous than they'd bargained for?

Sleep was a long time coming that night, and when it finally did claim him, Dean's dreams were filled with flashes of green eyes and the unmistakable sense of being hunted.

The harsh light of dawn was just beginning to creep through the threadbare motel curtains when Dean was jolted awake by a rough hand shaking his shoulder. He blinked groggily, his mind still foggy with sleep, to find John looming over him, face grim and etched with worry.

"Dean, get up," John barked, already moving to shake Sam awake as well. "We've got a situation."

Dean sat up, instantly alert despite the lingering exhaustion. "What's going on, Dad?"

John's expression was grave as he met his son's eyes. "The case has escalated. Severely. Seven victims last night."

"Seven?" Dean echoed, disbelief coloring his tone. "What the hell?"

Sam emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, his expression mirroring Dean's shock as he caught the tail end of the conversation. "Did you say seven victims?" he asked, reaching for his clothes and dressing quickly.

John nodded, his jaw set in a hard line. "Found in the public park about an hour ago. We need to move, now."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He threw on his clothes, mind racing as he tried to process this new development. Seven victims in one night was a massive escalation from the previous pattern. Something had changed, and not for the better.

Within minutes, the three Winchesters were piling into the Impala, the car's engine roaring to life as Dean peeled out of the motel parking lot. The drive to the crime scene was tense, each man lost in his own thoughts about what they might find.

As they approached the park, it was clear that this was no ordinary crime scene. Police cars and ambulances crowded the area, their lights casting eerie red and blue shadows in the early morning light. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off a large section of the park, and grim-faced officers milled about, their expressions a mix of shock and barely contained nausea.

The Winchesters flashed their fake badges, ducking under the tape and making their way towards the center of the activity. What they found there made even their seasoned stomachs turn.

The bodies were strewn across the grass, limbs bent at unnatural angles, faces frozen in expressions of terror. But it was the sheer brutality of the attacks that stood out. Unlike the previous victims, whose deaths had been swift and almost clinical, these bodies showed signs of prolonged, savage violence.

"Jesus," Sam muttered, his face pale as he surveyed the scene. "This is… different."

Dean nodded, crouching down to examine the nearest body. "Yeah, no kidding. Look at this, Dad. It's like whoever did this was…"

"Blowing off steam," John finished, his eyes narrowing as he took in the carnage. "This isn't calculated like the others. This is rage, pure and simple."

As they moved through the crime scene, cataloging details and searching for any signs of supernatural involvement, a commotion near the edge of the tape caught their attention. An officer was speaking to a distraught-looking elderly man, who was gesticulating wildly as he spoke.

"We've got a witness," Sam murmured, nodding towards the pair.

John straightened up, his expression sharpening. "You two finish up here. I'll go see what he has to say."

As John made his way over to the witness, Dean and Sam continued their examination of the scene. It was Dean who spotted it first - a glint of metal protruding from one of the victim's bodies.

"Sammy, check this out," he called, gesturing his brother over.

Sam crouched down beside him, eyes widening as he saw what Dean was pointing at. "Is that…?"

"A weapon," Dean confirmed, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Looks like our perp got sloppy."

Before they could examine it further, John returned, his expression troubled. "Witness is blind," he reported in a low voice. "Didn't see anything, but he heard it all. Says it happened just a few hours ago, around 3 AM. He was out for a late-night walk when he heard screaming and… other noises."

"What kind of other noises?" Sam pressed.

John shook his head. "He's pretty shaken up, couldn't give me many details. Said it sounded like animals fighting, but also… not. Mentioned hearing something that sounded like laughter at one point, but he's not sure."

Dean frowned, processing this new information. "So we've got a killer who leaves no traces for days, then suddenly loses it and leaves behind both a weapon and a witness? Something doesn't add up."

"Maybe they're devolving," Sam suggested. "Losing control, getting sloppy."

"Or maybe they wanted us to find this," John mused, gesturing to the weapon still embedded in the victim. "Could be a message of some kind."

The three men fell silent, each lost in thought as they tried to make sense of the conflicting evidence before them. Finally, Dean spoke up, voicing the question they were all thinking.

"So what the hell are we dealing with here? It's not werewolves - wrong lunar cycle, plus the wounds don't match. Can't be vampires, there's too much blood left behind. And I've never seen a witch work like this."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I don't know, man. This doesn't fit any pattern I've ever seen before. It's like… it's like we're dealing with something entirely new."

John's expression was grim as he surveyed the carnage around them. "Whatever it is, we need to stop it. Fast. Before anyone else gets hurt."

With that sobering thought hanging in the air, the Winchesters finished their examination of the crime scene. They spoke briefly with the lead detective, offering their "expertise" and promising to keep in touch as the investigation progressed.

The drive back to the motel was subdued, each man lost in his own thoughts about what they'd witnessed. Dean's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he replayed the gruesome scene in his mind. Something about this case was getting under his skin in a way he couldn't quite explain.

As they pulled into the motel parking lot, Sam broke the silence. "So, what's our next move? We've got more questions than answers at this point."

John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We need to regroup, go over everything we know. There's got to be something we're missing, some connection we haven't made yet."

Back in the cramped motel room, the Winchesters spread out their notes and evidence photos, creating a makeshift investigation board on one of the walls. Dean paced back and forth, unable to shake the restless energy that had been building since they'd left the crime scene.

"Okay, let's break this down," Sam said, taking charge of organizing their information. "We've got two distinct patterns here. The first set of victims - controlled, almost ritualistic killings. Symbols carved into the bodies, minimal blood spatter. Then we've got last night's victims - brutal, messy, signs of prolonged violence."

John nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Two different killers, maybe? Working together?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't buy it. The timing's too convenient. This has to be the same person… or thing." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "What if… what if we're dealing with something that can change forms? Like a shifter, but different?"

Sam considered this, tapping his pen against his chin. "It's possible. That could explain the drastic change in MO. But why the escalation? What triggered it?"

As his family continued to theorize, Dean found his mind wandering back to the woman from the restaurant. The intensity in her eyes, the barely contained violence he'd sensed… Could there be a connection? He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. They had no evidence linking her to the crimes, just his gut feeling.

"Dean? You with us?" John's voice cut through his musings.

Dean blinked, refocusing on the conversation. "Yeah, sorry. Just trying to piece it all together."

John's expression softened slightly. "I know, son. This one's a tough nut to crack. But we'll figure it out. We always do."

As the day wore on, the Winchesters pored over their evidence, making calls to contacts and scouring ancient texts for any clues about what they might be facing. But with each dead end, each fruitless lead, the frustration in the room grew palpable.

By the time night fell, they were no closer to answers than they had been that morning. Dean found himself standing at the window, staring out at the darkened parking lot, his mind a whirlwind of half-formed theories and nagging doubts.

"We're missing something," he muttered, more to himself than the others. "Something big."

Sam looked up from his laptop, exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. "Maybe we need to take a step back, look at this from a different angle."

John, who had been cleaning weapons to keep his hands busy, set down the gun he'd been working on. "You boys should get some rest. Fresh eyes in the morning might help us see what we're missing."

Dean wanted to argue, to insist that they keep working, but he knew his father was right. They were all running on fumes, and mistakes got people killed in their line of work. With a reluctant nod, he moved away from the window.

Dean couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time as he settled onto the lumpy motel mattress. Whatever was stalking this town, whatever had left those bodies in the park, it wasn't done. And next time, they might not be so lucky as to find evidence left behind.

Sleep was a long time coming, and when it finally did claim him, Dean's dreams were a confusing jumble of blood-soaked grass, gleaming blades, and a pair of haunting green eyes that seemed to see right through him.