luvfromlou

[luvfromlou]

UPDATE:

Stanford Sam must've fucking possessed me during that exam because oh my lord I cooked 🙏🙏

Decided to rewatch supernatural season 1 but in Spanish because I have a Spanish exam today.

I have realised two things:

1. I miss you season 1

2. I'm fucked for Spanish

[luvfromlou]

Decided to rewatch supernatural season 1 but in Spanish because I have a Spanish exam today.

I have realised two things:

1. I miss you season 1

2. I'm fucked for Spanish

[luvfromlou]

im so hungry i could eat jensen ackles

[luvfromlou]

happy pride yall 💞💞

[luvfromlou]

This may actually be the greatest thing ive ever seen, and I've seen some stuff

I know I'm a little late, but how amazing would it have been if Sam had literally been a moose for an entire episode?

Can you imagine what we would have been deprived of

like, the possibilities that would have arisen

just imagine

please Kripke. just because

and bonus:

[luvfromlou]

Hold on (I cannot lose you) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, you’re left dazed and damaged as you fight against death's cold grasp. Sam and Dean race to get you help.

Alternatively, You’re knocking on death's door and the boys say ‘no’

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Notes:(This will be added to AO3 at some point, just waiting for an invitation!) (Also feel free to give any criticism I haven't wrote anything like this in a while!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Two rough hands are the first things you feel. They rip you from your cold, hollow unconscious state that you find yourself eager to remain in. An array of pain plucks at your drowning senses as your exhaustion is briefly battled away by a forceful grip shaking you desperately. Your eyes peel open, fighting an innate instinct that tells you to rest again.

The first thing - currently the only thing - you feel is pain. A stabbing, grasping, squeezing, throbbing pain that ravages the side of your lower stomach. This singular site overcomes all natural sense and drives tears to pluck at your tired eyes, heavy lids that threaten to close any moment again now. Pain so unbearable that you find any form of consciousness begging to fall back into oblivious darkness. Yet you thrash against this desperation as he calls. 

If not for your ringing ears beginning to fade, you'd be out by a light by now, instead they clash with other noises, noises that you can’t quite make out for a moment, but now you can hear the unmistakable low rumble of the Impala and the begging shouts of the man who wrestles desperately with any awareness you may have. His hand grips onto your shoulder, a gentle shake with something deeper than concern behind it. It's only as he calls out your name again do you begin to feel somewhat aware of what exactly happened. 

A small, rural town somewhere in Missouri may as well have begged for the three of you to ward off a demon that infested its water with how quickly you responded. (You were fairly sure Dean had some female business to attend to) After all the research and the careful preparation you’d put into your hunt, things turned to shit within a minute, although you weren't entirely sure how it happened, you paid the price. Initially, you’d heard it coming, although adrenaline hadn’t kicked as the thoughts of salt circles and traps kept you falsely secure. And then it was in front of you, its rotting, bulging eyes glaring at you as if you were a five-course meal. It was far too late the moment you’d noticed the trap had failed, and it was far too late when it then began to attack mercilessly. 

You were no frail thing, no weakling out of her league in a world full of demons. That's why it surprised you when in seconds you were on the floor. And goodness - it's not like you didn’t defend yourself - Lord knows you tried - but this thing ripped, tore and churned your skin, essentially making your ‘innards’ your ‘outards.’ 

It did not stop as you screamed, nor did it stop as Sam swung at it. It wanted the kill.

Other than Dean’s wide eyed face as he screamed your name, trying too to fend off the demon, you can’t remember much. But now you were here. 

You force your eyes to open just a little further, they rest on the roof of the Impala as you gaze upwards, desperately wishing for the dark roof to be illuminated with blinking stars that remind you of countless nights spent stargazing with your mother as a child. You grumble to whoever’s listening. No words, purely incoherent mush which escapes your mouth in a confusing attempt to speak. 

Sam whispers your name, he shifts, your head still laying comfortably - as comfortable as you can be - on his lap. He hushes you as you try to shuffle. His jacket strewn across your cold body, the only part of you remaining warm being the gaping wound still dripping fresh with blood, despite the constant pressure Sam is applying. 

“You're going to be okay- we’re nearly at the hospital” He places a hand on your cheek, gently letting his thumb glide across your face. “Dean, how much longer?” There's an urgency in his voice as he holds you tight.

“Sammy, I’ve told you-” Dean speaks through gritted teeth, clearly they’d had this conversation before, “We’ll get there when we get there, I’m going as fast as I can.” He hisses with an urgency that matches Sam’s 

Your hand begrudgingly drags up to your abdomen, it drops harshly atop Sams. He presses his jacket over your wound as a makeshift-bandage - as good as they could get for the hurry they were in. His hand blesses yours with a warmth that you crave. You’re so cold.

You grimace slightly as your breathing is still steadily laboured, and here in the cold you can't help but wonder if this is how you die. 

You hadn’t lived, not really anyway. You’d always wanted more than this, you knew that. But you fell into the trade of hunting so young - too young, that it was really all you knew. You had tried, and God you’d tried so hard to fit back into civilization so many times, yet with your eyes - the eyes of a hunter - it was impossible to look at things the same as anyone else. You were a freak. A pitiful freak with no-one (aside from these two boys) to really remember your name. You were like a ghost, drifting from town to town, saving these poor souls from threats they weren’t aware of. And - God - All you really wanted was to stay in one place. You wanted to settle down, finally make some sort of real impact, craft something the whole world could see. 

Tears squirmed down your face as you stared up at him. Despite your great discomfort and the fear of the end of the road coming your way, you were glad if anything, it was in his arms. Sam cradled your broken body as well as your heart. You’d had eyes on him since the first moment you saved his sorry-ass. Something about him was so alluring, so different, so perfect. And each time you stared into those big green doting eyes, you felt someone staring back at you like he knew you. The real you. There was no need to hide.

And it was this very reason you clung on.

Although in all your time together there had been nothing besides jokings of flirting and the occasional adoring glance from across a room, nothing real had ever come of it. But you knew one day it would, and oh- you dreamed. Dreamed that one day the two of you would quit hunting and settle down, just like you had hoped. In a safe little town that was alive with a kind community. You’d have a little cottage nearby the forest where your two children would spend their afternoons playing games whilst you and Sam kept eachother company with nothing but love, Dean would visit - you could never see him escaping his life long mission of hunting - And that would be all that mattered.

It was that hope of a dream-like world that was so distant, yet cradled you in its arms that kept you alive. 

Whilst you clung onto any hope by dazing into Sam's eyes, the Impala screeched to a halt. 

Sam moved, his strong arms securing your fragile, wounded self as he shuffled urgently to the door, yet he wasn't the first out. 

The driver door had slammed open and shut within the same moment the Impala had landed in front of the hospital, and if you hadn’t closed your eyes by now (the blinding hospital lights had dug daggers in your retinas) you would’ve seen Dean climb out and begin running like a mad-man on a mission. He had been screaming. “WE NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE!”

Sam followed close after, sprinting towards the doors, you in arms. Whilst assuring you that you were going to be okay, and that you just needed to hang on a little longer. You tried- tried so desperately to keep yourself from fading back into the darkness that beckoned you like a stray dog, however the universe had been asking too much of you with too little reward, and you were too weak to avoid death's call. 

Your heart had stopped 3 times that night. And each time it was thought that you wouldn't be coming back. The doctors had called it nothing short of Divine Intervention, and hell- maybe it was. Something was ripping your soul back into your body, although now wasn't time for questioning or investigating why. All they could hope was nothing bad would come from it each time your pulse returned. 

Dean was rifled with anger. He paced up and down the waiting room desperate to hear something. Anything. He was snappy and argumentative with the poor workers trying to go about their shift. All he could think about was anything he could’ve done differently. Maybe then you’d be okay, and instead of the fear you would be but a memory in a few hours, the three of you would be out celebrating in a bar for a hunt gone good. 

Sam was quite on the opposite end of the spectrum. He had been dead-pan staring at the wall for hours in a deep rooted silence, only broken by the occasional question from Dean. They were both spiralling, Sam felt himself dying each moment you were in surgery. He prayed - God he’d never prayed about anything harder - hoping to all that was holy you would be okay. He took the time to acknowledge his own feelings, this immense fear of losing you was different to anything he’d felt before. Of course he’d lost Jess at the start of his venture, but it was so sudden in comparison to - well- this. The waiting was the worst of it. Not knowing whether you were going to live or die gnawed at his bones until he felt brittle and weak. His very soul shook, he cried, he waited. 

It was 5am by the time you’d gotten out of surgery. They’d carted you off to your own little room where you remained unconscious and unstable. It was 20 minutes later that they’d told Sam and Dean they could visit. Both had rushed to the room, sleepless and messy from the hunt, yet desperate to see your face. And although the two of them were still anxious about your state, their worries eased as they looked at your bruised face, and it hit them for the first time in 6 hours that you were okay. You were alive. 

Sam had refused to leave your side. When he eventually sat down he battled sleep like it was a distraction, worried that if he took his eyes off of you for a mere moment, the universe would whisk you away. He couldn’t deal with that lingering in his dreams, not again. 

So he remained, even between trips Dean had made to get a motel room nearby, even between Dean getting the two of them food, even when he had to answer questions about what exactly happened. He was reluctant and never parted your side. And it was worth it.

He had your hand enveloped in his when your eyes had fluttered open. You both shared a smile. One of love and prayers answered. 

Although it was weak and barely audible, Sam knew that you meant it with every part of your being when you told him that you loved him, and he knew more than anything that he loved you too.

[luvfromlou]

I desperately wish to binge supernatural and write hundreds of fanfics but woe is I, exams must be done. I'll save everything for the summer