#Sam Winchester x Age Regressed!Reader

[sky-bunnyyy]

Cg! Sam Winchester Moodboard

[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[aew-kun-age-regression]

Hey (^-^)/

Heard requests were open, so I was wondering if you would like to write something for a Cg!Dean Winchester with a nonverbal little?

Remember to take breaks, to hydrate and to eat something! Oh, and also take your time!

Okay, that was all. Bye-Bye (^_^)v

Hellooooo!!!! Thank you for the reminder!! I be try my best to do that! Im happy you request this!!! Hope is oki!

"Non Verbal"

Pairing: Caregiver!Dean Winchester x Little!Reader.

Summary: You go non verbal and Dean trys to figure out what you need. :)

Warnings: Going non verbal (obviously) Nicknames (Sweetheart)

(Gender neutral reader)

‼️THIS IS NOT NSFW‼️

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NOT Proofread

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Shortly after becoming your caregiver, Dean had realised that you often became nonverbal. He was however yet to know the reasoning behind it. He was unsure if something had happened to make you nonverbal, such as certain bad memories or if you were just regressing to an age too young to speak.

Dean was very good at reading your body language and facial expressions so it hadn't taken long before he had learnt how to understand you perfectly without you needing to speak.

The two of you were currently in the bunker, Cas and Sam out on a simple hunt. Dean wanted Sam to ease Cas into hunting whilst he looked after you.

Dean was currently sitting on the sofa, you next to him. Scooby doo was playing on the TV, quite ironically as you fiddled with your hair. It hadn't taken long before Dean gently pulled to the floor so you sat infront of him so he could play with your hair.

You'd been sitting infront of him for about 40 minutes now at the bright colours filled the screen and Dean ran his hands through your hair.

When you finally began to get hungry yoy started to fuss.

"Shhh.. baby what's wrong..?" He asked gently curious on if you could form a sentence to explain the issue.

You couldn't.

You waved your hands around wildly for a few minutes in the vague direction of the kitchen before Dean caught on.

"Are you hungry sweetheart??"

You made another noise, elerting him he was correct.

Dean picked you up and took you to the kitchen, placing you on the counter.

"Hmmm.. do you want a sandwich..?"

You shook your head, desperately trying to communicate.

"What about someee pasta?"

You then nodded furiously whilst Dean chucked.

"Pasta it is then" Dean said with a smile before going to the cupboard, reaching inside and getting out a bag or pasta to cook.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ demon daycare ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| dean winchester x reader | part 2

prompt: imagine dean got caught by a demon and it distressed him to the point he involuntarily regresses and the demon just looks at him and goes "Well what else can I do?" and cgs him, and its a good time

a/n: for @teddybear-kiddo <3

warnings: demon!reader, little!dean, involuntary regression, knives, minor injuries, canon typical demon stuff, swearing

-

You twiddle the tip of your knife on your thigh as you take a minute to breathe, you’ve captured the infamous Dean Winchester, you deserve a breather. Any other demon that’s taken either of the Winchester brothers has either not lived to tell the story or has warned against going anywhere near either of them.

As you look over to Dean you really don’t see the big fuss, if anything he looks particularly small compared to what you imagined. He had been a bit mouthy at first but that died quickly, still hasn’t given up the information you need though. It’ll come soon enough and hopefully before his brother comes busting in with that angel you know they drag around.

“You ready to talk yet?” You crouch down by Dean’s face, knife still held in hand, there hasn’t been much damage done aside from a nice looking cut on the side of his jaw. It’s artificial, won’t even need stitches.

“Hello? Im talking to you-.” You shut up seeing the tears falling down the Winchesters face when he turns to you. It takes you off guard for more than one reason, the biggest being that this is Dean Winchester, professional demon hunter and killer, not who you were expecting to be crying over a little cut.

“It’s just a cut, it’ll heal.” Your brow furrows watching how Dean only grows more upset and starts to thrash in the ropes holding him against the concrete pole in the warehouse you’ve dragged him to.

“I- I know.” He sniffs. It twinges something in you, something you have felt in a long time being a demon. You sigh to yourself, looking Dean over again, and god damnit you’re really considering untying him.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong?” Dean’s cheeks blush fiercely under the question, trying to duck his head away only your hand catches his cheek to hold him steady.

“I- I want Sammy.” He whimpers quietly. He sounds like a child. Then it hits you, he looks like a child, sounds like one, fuck.

“If I untie you can you be good and not run?” Dean nods jerkily to you and you pray to lucifer he keeps that promise as you undo the knot at the back of his wrists.

The ropes drop, Dean doesn’t bolt. Step two you suppose, you know there’s a first-aid kit somewhere around here, it’s hung on the wall from when the warehouse was still in use. It should have everything you need to patch up Dean’s face.

“Stay here while I go grab a first aid kit.” Before you can fully stand Dean’s hand grabs yours, eyes big and pleading, as if he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s younger than you assumed, you know what age regression is, whoever your vessel is has a few facts about it stored away, it seems to be coming in handy.

“Okay, but no running.” You wait for Dean to stand, watching with a small smile how he stumbles and reaches to hold onto you tighter for balance.

It takes no time at all to grab the first aid kit and sit Dean back down to start cleaning the cut. After disinfecting and placing a butterfly strip to hold the wound together, you pet a hand through Dean’s hair. He leans into the touch and before you know it, he’s laying on your chest, arms around your waist and his head nuzzling closer towards you.

“Aren’t you scared? I’m a demon.” You ask a little breathless, a weird warmth is buzzing in your chest, you don’t know what it is but you like it. It grows when you wrap your own arms around Dean’s back.

“You’re not scary, you helped me.” Your instincts take over as you lean to press a kiss into Dean’s hair, you like this much more than the previous violence.

You two stay like that until Sam bursts in with Castiel in tow, both largely confused by the scene in front of them, but also relived that you haven’t done any serious damage to Dean. And as they all walk out to their car, you’re a little sad to see Dean go, maybe you’ll have to pay him a visit soon.

-

[lovelybucky1]

✸ Rules ✸

18+ minors dni

kinks/plays open for discussion: character x character, character x reader, oral sex (any genatailia), anal sex, vaginal sex, fingering, choking, dacryphilia, size kink, daddy kink, age gaps, infidelity, substance use, breeding kink, fauxcest, stepcest, kidnapping kink, cnc, dubcon, noncon, praise, degradation, corruption, exhibitonism, vouyerism, dry humping, hair pulling, piss kink, multiple partners, predator/pray kink, somnophilia, thigh fucking, thigh riding, pegging, sex toys, knife play, gun play, period sex, tentacles, fauxcest incest

kinks/plays not open for discussion: race play, underage, sexual age regression, incest, suicide, self harm, eating disorders, feederism, wax play, extreme pain play, scat, vomit, pregnancy kink, food play

characters open for discussion: anakin skywalker, darth vader, sam monroe, scott barringer, clay beresford, cillian!oppenheimer, jonathan crane, neil lewis, tommy shelby, jackson rippner, robert fischer, han solo, jake "hangman" seresin, bradley "rooster" bradshaw, finnick odair, coriolanus snow, sam winchester, dean winchester, john winchester

other rules:

i am a smut writer and will likely not take requests/answer asks solely about fluff or angst.

don't like, don't read. there are content warnings on all of my fics and you are responsible for your media consumption. if you leave hate on my posts, you will be blocked.

if you send requests while my requests are closed, they will be disregarded/deleted.

if you want to send an ask that includes something not on either list, send it and i will determine if i feel comfortable writing/posting it

if your ask contains any of the items not open for discussion, it will be deleted

if your ask contains a character/fandom not on the above list, it likely will not be answered

violating any of these rules will result in your comment/ask being deleted and/or you being blocked

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Little Exposure

Pairings: Sam x Age Regressed!Reader

Warnings: Age regression, fluff

Word Count: 1,201

Little Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’ll take one room.” Dean said to the woman behind the desk.

“No, we’ll take two. Just a king for me.” You grumbled over him as you stepped up to the wood counter and slapped down a wad of cash without another word. Sam looked at you confused as you impatiently held your hand out for your room key. The moment the plastic key tag hit your palm, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the office with your duffle over your shoulder. 

The hut you had just finished had been absolutely excruciating. You and the boys had met up to tackle a changing and no matter how hard you tried you had still lost 3 mothers and a child. Now that the dust of the case had settled the only thing you wanted to do was relax and forget. You found your room quickly, ducked inside and locked the door. The second the sound of the deadlock turning died in the room you let your other half take over.

An hour later, you were sitting on your bed with your chocolate brown teddy bear, Mr. Bear in your lap surrounded by coloring books and broken crayons completely lost in little space. The outside world no longer existed; monsters were something you colored in your books and the only thing you hunted was Minnie Mouse bandaids to cover the little cuts and scrapes you and Mr. Bear had. You had Peter Pan playing on your laptop and you were contently signing along to the words when a loud knock echoed through your room. Expecting your pizza, you didn’t bother to cover up your Monster’s Inc sleep shirt as you skipped over to the door.

“Here ya gooo…Oh!” You exclaimed as your sort-of boyfriend turned back around toward you. A smile spread across his face as he looked at your shirt and he chuckled.

“Well don’t you look cute, babe.” Sam teased. Your face flushed red and you tried to close the door but he stopped you. “Wait… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make fun…”

“It’s nothing.” You said dismissively as you tried once again to close the door to keep your secret hidden. The sudden sound of Following The Leader blaring from your laptop made you sigh and you threw your hands up in the air as the little side of you begged to be able to dance with the music. “It’s just… whatever, I guess.” you tried to vaguely explain as Sam hesitantly stepped into the room. His brows were furrowed as he took in the mess of books on your bed. 

“What is all this?” He asked as you sat back down in the middle of the bed. You shrugged as you paused your movie and grabbed Mr. Bear. You sighed as tears welled in the backs of your eyes.

“I have Borderline Personality Disorder so when life gets too hard on me, I tend to slip into a regressed mentality; almost like a second personality taking over for a while. Well… actually, I tend to function most of the time in some sort of regressed state but that’s a whole different story.” Sam nodded as he took a seat in the chair at the table by the window.

“So is it like ‘are you gunna be daddy’s good girl’, spankings and kinky sex?” he inquired and you shuttered and shook your head.

“Not at all. A lot of that is main-stream media propaganda; though the daddy/caregiver part does carry over in a sense. Age regression is a coping mechanism for me. It’s kinda like… um, well say for this case, yea? With a case like this, your first thought is to go and take a long hot shower, eat a big meal and sleep it off.” You gestured to the cluster of chaos on the bed in front of you and shrugged. “This is kinda like my long hot shower. I let my little side take over and the “adult side” takes a break.” Sam nodded slowly as his eyes continued to look at the coloring books and stuff on your bed.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He asked after a minute as he finally looked back up at you. You gave him a half mouth smirk and cocked your eyebrow.

“Yea, Sam. I’m gunna tell a guy who depends on me to have his back that after the hunt, when he and his brother go to the bar, I’ll be having a tea party with Mr. Bear here.” You said as you held up your stuffed animal slightly. “It’s not something that most 20 somethings talk about with people they are kinda sorta dating.” Sam got up from the chair and walked over to the bed. He gently moved some coloring books out of the way before sitting down in front of you with a smile.

“If you think that because you have a little side as a coping mechanism is going to change how I feel about you, you’re sorely mistaken.” You looked up and met his eyes completely as a couple tears spilled over and he chuckled. “Come on, babe. We have been toeing that line of dating for two months and I already take care of you on hunts and when you are not in this mindset of yours. Did you honestly think I would turn you away because of this?” With a small shrug you hugged your bear to you and looked down.

“I just thought you would think it was weird.” You told him softly. Sam reached up and put his hand under your chin and gently lifted your face so you would look at him.

“It’s not weird, babe. While it is not in my typical wheelhouse, if it is something that makes you feel better at the end of the day, I think I can get on board the train.” You smiled and nodded weakly as Sam looked around the bed. “Now, you mentioned tea? I could go for some tea right about now.” The little in you leapt for joy and after only a moment of fighting it, you let her take over and you scrambled off the bed.

“You have to know. Mr. Bear makes the best tea in the whole wide world!” You exclaimed as you grabbed the small, broken, mismatched tea set from the bottom of your duffle. “But you have ta be careful because sometimes he makes it too hot.” You could see the slight look of unease at the situation for only a moment as Sam nodded before he let himself fall in to the caregiver role he saw you needed. You crawled back onto the bed with a bottle of water, a plastic teapot and one pink and one green tea cup. You handed him the small pink cup and grinned at how silly it looked in his large hand. “I’ll share my cup with you cuz Mr. Bear doesn’t like to share.”

“Well thank you for sharing with me.” You nodded as you pressed play on your laptop and with a smile plastered on your face, you let yourself get lost in the escape you needed. 

[fictosexualagere]

Waking up to Sam and Dean not being there.

Reader age: 2-5

KINK, GORE, 18+ DNI SFW AGERE ONLY

YOUR POV

You woke up only to find your daddies gone. You rub the sleep from your eyes, frantically searching around the room. It looked like stuff was thrown around, like they’d gone in a hurry.

You figured they had to go to a mission last minute, but they didn’t even leave a note or anything. You felt your big self slipping from you, your little self replacing you.

You sat back down on the bed, grabbing your stuffie and pulling it close to your chest as you began to cry. You felt hungry, thirsty, and homesick of your daddies.

You eventually fell asleep again, only to wake up to someone gently rubbing your back.

“Hey sweetheart, wake up. Daddy’s here,” Dean cooed, pulling you into his chest as you hugged him.

“Daddy—you left…” You said, looking around for Sam to see him coming up and grabbing your hand.

“We’re so sorry princess, we didn’t know we were going to be gone as long as we were. Shhh, daddy’s here,” Sam spoke softly, getting Dean to pass you over to him.

“Dove, how about I make you some breakfast?” Dean asked, ruffling your hair. You giggled into Sam’s shoulder, nodding as your stomach growled.

“Pwease don’t leave me alone again like that…” you begged, playing with Sam’s long fingers as Dean paused from making breakfast to come over to you.

“Sweetie, look at me. We promise we will never do that again, okay honey?”

“We’ll leave a note or wake you up before we leave. Pinky promise,” Sam said, holding out his pinky for you to pinky promise him. You smiled softly, putting your tiny pinky on his.

Sam picked you up, throwing you on his hip. “Let’s go watch daddy cook breakfast, Angel.”

[veryvaughnny]

I wanna start writing shit so uhm...request please. I can write:

Mild nsfw (I can try but tbh I haven't wrote smut before so if I get it and I wrote for the first time and ion like, NO MORE)

Age regression

Fluff obvi

I can try angst

Platonic

I will NOT write

Incest

Rape/non consent

Nsfw age regression

You get the idea of that

Fandoms I will wrote for include:

Twdg

Hunger Games

I wanna write for The Quarry

Lucifer (Netflix)

Supernatural

Marvel

Alice in Wonderland

Arcane LoL

Stranger Things

(I can try another fandom but you'd have to lmk)

Characters I will write for

Twdg:

Most likely all of them. Any kids will be platonic.

The Hunger Games

Katniss

Peeta

Cinna

(pretty much all tributes besides mags most likely...)

Just request for more

The Quarry:

Emma

Abi

Kaitlyn

Jacob

Nick

Dylan

Ryan

Lucifer:

Lucifer

Chloe

MAZIKEEN

Dan (maybe 🚶🏽‍♀️)

Ella

Amenadiel

Eve (maybe 👀)

Supernatural:

Sam

Dean

Castiel

Crowley

Jack

Lucifer

Gabriel

Garth

Marvel:

Pretty much all of them just request

Alice in Wonderland:

Anyone that isn't an animal I think

Arcane:

Jinx

vi

Caitlyn

Jayce

Viktor

Silco

SEVIKA

Grayson

Ambessa

Renata

Stranger Things:

Just request

Anyways like I said just request. And if you have sm for another fandom or another character I didn't mention or forgot about just request that and if ion wrote for them then I'll lyk. But I'll try my best to

[sfwregressionfanfictions]

Long Distance: Dean Winchester x Reader

WC: 1468

Summery: An online dating app leads to a long-distance relationship.

Part 1. Part 2

Warning: None, not proofread!

Honestly, it was a stupid idea. What hunter does online dating? What hunter goes on an app designed to help caregivers and age regressors meet? He must be the dumbest hunter to exist.

However, here he was setting up a profile. Username: Impala79. Likes: Pie, Cars, and Mythology. The questions continued on, luckily all were easy. The website didn’t require a profile picture, even showing distaste for the idea, as to “allow you to meet someone without the constraints of social beauty standards”.

When the profile was done being set up, he was allowed to swipe through content. The app expanded past being a matching app, it had a marketplace designed for age regression, some general group chats, some blogs, and one-on-one chats. Dean clicked onto a few blogs and liked a couple, before clicking onto a small blog that was just a bunch of drawings. After looking through the blog, he realized it was an age regressors coloring book for when they were big and little. There were many little coloring books, where the colours went through the lines, and big space portraits drawn of actors and mythical beasts, where everything was perfect.

Dean couldn’t help but follow and like, it was so cute to see how proud the little one was of all of their art. Halfway through his scrolling through the blog, Sam came slamming into his room with a case. A simple salt and burn, a quick in and out less than an hour away. 

With everyone packed, they rushed to the ghost haunting. Dean was completely unaware of the new message on his account, or the nervous fidgeting of the sender at the fact he hadn’t replied in the first few hours. Sam watched as Dean complained about wanting to go home the second they arrived at the house being haunted by an angry old lady. However, the whining did not last long as the case was solved with ease, and they left before sunset.

Dean was freshly showered and laying in his bed, opening his laptop to scroll through his newly found profile some more. Shock washed over him as he saw two notifications, both from the art blog’s owner, (Your Username). They followed him and sent a message. 

(Y/U): Hiya! Thank you so much for the follow and likes! I see you like pies and mythology, SO COOL! I love mythology, but I always want to learn more! :))

Dean: Hey Sweetheart, all your drawings are so pretty. Like seeing how you draw banshees, looks like you saw one in real life lol. Maybe one day I could get a drawing from you?

The message was sent, however, now it was late. They most likely would be asleep if they were a good little (girl/boy/one). So Dean closed the laptop again, nervous to see the response in the morning. Intrusive thoughts crept in ‘what if he crossed a line’ or ‘what if they don’t reply’. Dean decided to roll over and shove his face into the pillow, and pretended to disappear.

The alarm clock blares, it was 10:30 am. When did Dean set this alarm? Why would he set this alarm? Realization crept in, Sam must have set it when Dean was busy showering the day prior. Dean got up slowly, moaning and groaning due to his sleepy state. Wrapping himself in a robe, and trudged towards the kitchen, a scowl etched on his face.

“Good to see you up before noon!” Sam said, sitting at the kitchen table with his computer looking for cases. 

“Only cause of you, Jerk!” Dean grunted, flinging open the fridge doors in hopes of finding something delicious. All he found was what he considered to be ‘rabbit food’, luckily for him, there was a fresh pot of coffee right next to the fridge, which he quickly spotted. He poured himself a cup and sat down in front of Sam. Silently sipping his coffee glaring at the computer sam was using. 

Once the cup of coffee was gone and the liquid gold was circulating in Dean’s veins, his eyes shot wide open. He realized the age regressor he messaged with last night, most likely replied and was waiting for his reply. With no hesitation, Dean stood up, through his mug in the sink, and ran full force out of the kitchen towards his room. Nothing was going to get in the way of his responding to the tiny artist that messaged him the day before. His computer was flung open and the profile was opened. One notification.

(Y/U): Good morning!!! Sorry, I fell asleep really early last night… Thank you so much! I work really hard on my art, I usually use old mythology books to draw them! I would love to draw for you one day! Anyways what are you up to today? :))

Dean: Hey, no worries. Glad you got some needed sleep. I’m not planning much, might go to a local diner or drive a little unless I get called into work. What about you?

The message was barely sent before it was marked as read and a bubble with three dots popped up. Soon their message popped up.

(Y/U): I did all my work already, so now I get to watch tv and relax. I might ummm you know, then color and watch my little pony or something like that…

Dean: a little shy about your regression? 

(Y/U): Yeah… It’s different posting about it than talking about it one-on-one with someone. Ya know?

Dean: We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. But you should know I would love to get to know little you along with big you…

(Y/U): Really?

Dean: Really. 

After that, the two continued talking for hours over the next few days. The pair had grown comfortable to the point where they could share just about anything. However, hunting was kept secret. Soon with their close bond, they were messaging for a month.

Dean: Hey little one, do you have a PO box? I have something I really wanna send to you

(Y/U): No PO box, but here is my address (address)

Dean: Baby, don’t go sending your address to everyone okay?

(Y/O): Okay, only sending it to you!

Dean: Good, you are such a smart little one, aren’t you?

(Y/O): mhmm, are you good to call tonight?

Dean: I am unless I get called into work.

(Y/O): okay…

The two went about their days until the clock hit 8 pm. Dean's phone began ringing.

“Hello, this is Dean speaking,” Dean grumbled, not wanting to be called into a case. However, his demeanor suddenly shifted as a light giggle-filled his ears. 

“Your voice is deeper than I expected…” The voice was small and shaky. (Y/N) was obviously very nervous about being on call with him for the first time. 

“You sound just as sweet as I expected,” Dean chuckled, and the other end giggled again. “How was your day, sweetheart?” 

“It was good but long… I wanna be little but I should finish up this spreadsheet, then I’ll have all of tomorrow off…” They sighed, struggling to stay big with all the work left to do. “Sorry, how-”

“How much do you have left to do?” Dean asked as he lay back on his bed. 

“I think 15 minutes more, it's just hard cause I’m feeling so out of it…” They mumbled.

“Sweetheart, you work really hard for those 15 minutes,” Dean paused for a minute, “and, then, you can be as little as you need, until 9:30.”

“Okay, you’ll stay on the phone with me while I work, right?” The whisper was almost desperate.

“Yes, sugar.” 

This simple sentence sent (Y/N) into 15 minutes of hard work. Although, those 15 minutes were filled with mumbled complaints. The completed spreadsheet was marked with an excited squeal.

“I DID IT!” (Y/N) yelled all too loud.

“Indoor voice, little one.”

“Okay… sowwy,” Being tired, slowly slipping into a younger head space caused them to be much more sensitive. (Y/N) was well aware they weren’t in trouble, however, they couldn't help but get teary-eyed.

“Baby, you aren’t in trouble. Just don’t want you to upset your neighbors, or get a sore throat,” Dean gently said to her, “Now you only have an hour and 15 minutes to play before you need to go to sleep so why don’t you put on some of your cartoons and play with your toys?”

“Okie, can you read me a bed time story after?” They felt truly cared for and looked after, like Dean was really their daddy. For now, he was just a friend and babysitter, but (Y/N) decided to let themself imagine for tonight.

[ao3feed-stony]

BETA READER AND EDITOR HERE!!!!

by Jami_e29

Just as the title says, if you're looking for a new beta reader or editor for your fanfics, I'm here. Contact me @hrleily on Twitter or aqua29004@gmail.com

I'm an experienced freelance writer and editor so you can trust my work.

My fandom are listed above. I'm open to new fandoms and pairings. I can edit basically anything from the fluffiest fluff that melts your insides to the dirtiest smutty fic. I have no limits and I definitely don't kink shame.

No matter how bad you think your kink is, I've probably read something similar to it.

Please contact me, I'm home from school and have nothing to do rn.

Words: 150, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005), Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Social Network (2010), X-Men: First Class (Comics), X-Men - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Heartstopper (TV), The Beatles (Band), Encanto (2021), Hannibal (TV), One Direction (Band), Teen Wolf (TV), Squid Game (TV 2021), James Bond (Craig Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, M/M

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Endverse Castiel (Supernatural), Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charlie Spring, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, John Lennon, Paul McCartney

Relationships: Harry Potter - Relationship, Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Lennon/Paul McCartney, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Ali Abdul/Cho Sangwoo, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe, Smut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Beta Read, Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/39087903

[ao3feed-larry]

BETA READER AND EDITOR HERE!!!!

by Jami_e29

Just as the title says, if you're looking for a new beta reader or editor for your fanfics, I'm here. Contact me @hrleily on Twitter or aqua29004@gmail.com

I'm an experienced freelance writer and editor so you can trust my work.

My fandom are listed above. I'm open to new fandoms and pairings. I can edit basically anything from the fluffiest fluff that melts your insides to the dirtiest smutty fic. I have no limits and I definitely don't kink shame.

No matter how bad you think your kink is, I've probably read something similar to it.

Please contact me, I'm home from school and have nothing to do rn.

Words: 150, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005), Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Social Network (2010), X-Men: First Class (Comics), X-Men - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Heartstopper (TV), The Beatles (Band), Encanto (2021), Hannibal (TV), One Direction (Band), Teen Wolf (TV), Squid Game (TV 2021), James Bond (Craig Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, M/M

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Endverse Castiel (Supernatural), Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charlie Spring, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, John Lennon, Paul McCartney

Relationships: Harry Potter - Relationship, Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Lennon/Paul McCartney, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Ali Abdul/Cho Sangwoo, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe, Smut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Beta Read, Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/puew9nT

[jjtheresidentbaby]

♡ Headcanon Masterlist ♡

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I think my masterlists have been getting crowded so I decided to put all my headcanons here

Stranger Things:

Stranger things characters as Encanto powers 

Steve x little!sister reader headcanons 

Max x Mike friendship headcanons 

Eddie x short little!reader headcanons 

Cg!argyle x little!eddie headcanons 

stranger things classification headcanons 

Rating stranger things relationships 

Steve x Eddie Caregiver Rules headcanons 

Little Mike headcanons 

Caregiver Johnathan headcanons 

Little Steve Harrington headcanons 

Little Eddie Munson headcanons 

Autistic Wheeler Sibling headcanons

Caregiver Nancy Wheeler headcanons 

Little Nancy Wheeler headcanons

Little Lucas Sinclair Headcanons

Caregiver Stancy adopting Little Johnny headcanons

Criminal Minds:

criminal minds classification headcanons 

Little Jj headcanons 

More Little Jj headcanons 

Even More Little Jj headcanons 

Caregiver Penelope headcanons 

Caregiver Alex headcanons 

More Caregiver Alex headcanons 

Little Reid headcanons 

More Little Reid headcanons

Little Jj x Caregiver Emily headcanons

Caregiver Hotchniss x Little Jj headcanons

Little Jj Security Item headcanons

Little Jj workplace headcanons

Little Jj staying home headcanons

Little Jj x Caregiver Em nickname headcanons

Caregiver Jj x Will headcanons

Caregiver Reid headcanons

Flip Emily Prentiss headcanons

Caregiver Luke Alvez headcanons

Little Jj x Caregiver Hotchniss living together headcanons

Little Jj age range with Caregiver Hotchniss headcanons

Caregiver Jj x Will headcanons .2

S.W.A.T:

s.w.a.t classification headcanons 

Caregiver Hondo headcanons 

Caregiver Deacon Kay headcanons 

Comfort Deacon Kay Caregiver headcanons 

Bedtime Routine s.w.a.t Caregiver headcanons 

Jessica Cortez Caregiver headcanons

Marvel:

Caregiver Steve Rogers headcanons

Caregiver (general) Peter Parker headcanons

Caregiver Bruce Banner headcanons

Caregiver Tony Stark headcanons

Little Kate Bishop headcanons

Supernatural:

Caregiver Castiel headcanons

Caregiver Dean & Part Monster Little headcanons

Caregiver Dean & Little Sam headcanons

Caregiver Sam Winchester headcanons

Caregiver Gabriel headcanons

Teen Wolf:

Hale Pack Classification headcanons

McCall Pack Classification headcanons

Puppy Pack Classification headcanons

Caregiver Melissa McCall headcanons

Caregiver Peter Hale headcanons

FNAF:

Little Vanessa x Caregiver Mike headcanons - attached to day 3 moodboard of fictionalagerechallange

Euphoria:

Flip Lexi Howard headcanons

Caregiver Elliot headcanons

School Bus Graveyard:

Little Aiden Clark headcanons

Heartbreak High:

Flip Quinni Gallagher-Jones headcanons

Flip Amerie Wadia headcanons - attached to day 5 moodboard of fictionalagerechallange

Little Spencer ‘Spider’ White headcanons - attached to day 6 moodboard of fictionalagerechallange

Little Ant Vaughn headcanons

Little Harper McLean headcanons

Little Missy Beckett headcanons

Flip Ca$h Piggott headcanons

Little Quinni Gallagher-Jones headcanons

Little Malakai Mitchell headcanons

More Little Quinni Gallagher-Jones headcanons

Little Spencer ‘Spider’ White headcanons [little gear specific]

Ant & Spider Regression Friendship headcanons

Caregiver Malakai Mitchell headcanons

Caregiver Spencer ‘Spider’ White headcanons

Outer Banks:

Little John B headcanons

Little Jj Maybank headcanons [water specific]

The Umbrella Academy:

Little Five Hargreeves headcanons

Little Luther Hargreeves headcanons

[ao3feed-lokiangst]

X Reader - oneshots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LYw0CH

by henley_sarah

This is just a whole ass mess I decided to do for some reason.

Basically, I have two lists; one for characters, one for plots/tropes. It's numbered, so I'll go to a number generator and put in 1-? and 1-? and then put the numbers together. (ex: 3;27)

As I said, it's a whole ass mess.

Words: 1329, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, Tokyo Ghoul, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Actor RPF, Peaky Blinders (TV), Fairy Tail, Supernatural, Sherlock (TV), IT - Stephen King, American Horror Story, Stranger Things (TV 2016), Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Kaminari Denki, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Touya, Dabi (My Hero Academia), Toga Himiko, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Uta (Tokyo Ghoul), Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise, Kirishima Touka, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Eren Yeager, Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis, Undertaker (Kuroshitsuji), Joker (DCU), Harleen Quinzel, Loki (Marvel), Peter Parker, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, L (Death Note), Near | Nate River, Tom Hiddleston, Tommy Shelby, John Shelby, Michael Gray, Alfie Solomons, Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Lucifer (Supernatural), Sherlock Holmes, Jim Moriarty, Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, Victor Criss, Tate Langdon, Kit Walker (American Horror Story), Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Rory Monahan, Edward Mott, Kai Anderson, Mike Wheeler, Suoh Tamaki, Ootori Kyouya, Hitachiin Hikaru, Hitachiin Kaoru, Haninozuka Mitsukuni, Morinozuka Takashi, Fujioka Haruhi, Reader

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Kirishima Eijirou/Reader, Kaminari Denki/Reader, Midoriya Izuku/Reader, Todoroki Shouto/Reader, Dabi (My Hero Academia)/Reader, Toga Himiko/Reader, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Reader, Uta (Tokyo Ghoul)/Reader, Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise/Reader, Kirishima Touka/Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Eren Yeager/Reader, Ciel Phantomhive/Reader, Undertaker (Kuroshitsuji)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/Reader, Harleen Quinzel/Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Peter Parker/Reader, Draco Malfoy/Reader, Harry Potter/Reader, L (Death Note)/Reader, Near | Nate River/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tommy Shelby/Reader, John Shelby/Reader, Michael Gray/Reader, Alfie Solomons/Reader, Natsu Dragneel/Reader, Gray Fullbuster/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You, Lucifer (Supernatural)/You, Sherlock Holmes/Reader, Jim Moriarty/Reader, Richie Tozier/Reader, Bill Denbrough/Reader, Mike Hanlon/Reader, Ben Hanscom/Reader, Stanley Uris/Reader, Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader, Victor Criss/Reader, Tate Langdon/Reader, Kit Walker (American Horror Story)/Reader, Kyle Spencer/Reader, Jimmy Darling/Reader, James Patrick March/Reader, Rory Monahan/Reader, Edward Mott/Reader, Kai Anderson/Reader, Mike Wheeler/Reader, Suoh Tamaki/Reader, Ootori Kyouya/Reader, Hitachiin Hikaru/Reader, Hitachiin Kaoru/Reader, Haninozuka Mitsukuni/Reader, Morinozuka Takashi/Reader, Fujioka Haruhi/Reader

Additional Tags: Sharing a Bed, Oblivious, Hanahaki Disease, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Writing on Skin, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos, Hearing Voices, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pain, Colors, Red String of Fate, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends With Benefits, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Love Triangles, 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Sharing a Body, Bodyswap, Age Regression/De-Aging, Genderswap, Genderbending, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, Amnesia, First Time, Sickfic, In Vino Veritas, Pregnancy, Consensual Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Childhood Friends, Villains, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LYw0CH

[stony-ao3-feed]

BETA READER AND EDITOR HERE!!!!

Read it on AO3

by Jami_e29

Just as the title says, if you're looking for a new beta reader or editor for your fanfics, I'm here. Contact me @hrleily on Twitter or aqua29004@gmail.com

I'm an experienced freelance writer and editor so you can trust my work.

My fandom are listed above. I'm open to new fandoms and pairings. I can edit basically anything from the fluffiest fluff that melts your insides to the dirtiest smutty fic. I have no limits and I definitely don't kink shame.

No matter how bad you think your kink is, I've probably read something similar to it.

Please contact me, I'm home from school and have nothing to do rn.

Words: 150, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005), Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Social Network (2010), X-Men: First Class (Comics), X-Men - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Heartstopper (TV), The Beatles (Band), Encanto (2021), Hannibal (TV), One Direction (Band), Teen Wolf (TV), Squid Game (TV 2021), James Bond (Craig Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, M/M

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Endverse Castiel (Supernatural), Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charlie Spring, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, John Lennon, Paul McCartney

Relationships: Harry Potter - Relationship, Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Lennon/Paul McCartney, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Ali Abdul/Cho Sangwoo, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe, Smut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Beta Read, Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

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