#sam winchester x gn!reader

[prentissluvr]

breathe, baby — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, smut, no plot, fluff, brief mention of canon typical violence & demons at the beginning, making out, clothed grinding, fingering, swearing, pet names (baby, honey), praise, sam calls reader pretty/beautiful, light dom/sub dynamics in the later half (softdom!sam), allusions to oral (r!receiving) 4.1K words.

summary : after a close call on a hunt and a confession, you and sam have sweet, desperate sex. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI WITH MY NSFW CONTENT. YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED !!!

this is the second time that you find yourself gasping in sam’s arms in one night. just two hours ago, it was an unpleasant sensation; he held you close as you tried to catch your breath after nearly being choked into unconsciousness by a demon. the part where he held you close was not the unpleasant part. despite the fact that you were having difficulties breathing, you very much so savored the feeling of having him close.

but this… this isn’t just pleasant, it’s pleasure itself. you decide that there’s nothing finer than sam winchester kissing you. he kisses you so hard you can barely breathe, so hungrily that his nose scrunches up and his lips swallow yours and when you part, you’re gasping for breath.

“sam,” you pant out, his big nose still pressed against your cheek and the feeling of his tongue in your mouth lingering so strongly it’s almost buzzing.

“yeah? you okay?” he asks, his own voice just as breathless as yours. the large hand he has resting on the side of your face glides along your cheekbone, fingertips soothing against your skin and wide palm brushing past your ear. his touch dips, lightly ghosting over the bruises on your neck, but it doesn’t hurt, not with how soft he is.

“i’m good,” you assure him, still catching your breath, mind still reeling over the fact that you’re straddling his lap on a motel room bed and his big arm is wrapped around your waist. “really good. just… just wanted to tell you that i’m never gonna let you stop kissing me,” you murmur. his face is so close that you feel the movement of his lips stretching into a smile. he parts further from you, still cupping your cheek. he wants to look at you.

“yeah?” he asks again, voice pleased and tinged with this roughness that isn’t just lust. with sam, it’s always so much more. he’s smiling and his eyes are dark in the dim light of the room and you press a sweet kiss to his grin because you can’t resist it. he kisses back, only a little because he’s busy smiling.

“yeah,” you whisper, pulling away again so he can see that you’re smiling too. that gets him going. really everything about you gets him going, but to have you on his lap, your chest pushing him back into the headboard and your soft smile as you say sweet, almost sappy things? that’s more than enough to drive him crazy.

he wants to be gentle. so, very gentle, but he can’t help himself when both of his hands grab at the sides of your face and pull you back to him. it’s not like he’s rough by any stretch, but there’s a certain desperation thrumming through him, transerfing from his firmly placed palms and almost trembling fingertips to the warm skin of your cheeks. 

the force with which he kisses you pushes you backwards, and one hand flies from its spot on his waist to steady yourself on the mattress behind you. the small sound that escapes your throat is muffled by his greedy mouth, and he wants to hear more. all of your sighs and sweet sounds, thusfar quiet and somewhat controlled, have been driving him truly crazy.

almost regretfully, he allows one hand to slide down from your face to your waist, his hold there strong as he hoists you further up into his lap. he’s hard underneath you, and you moan at the feeling. your mind goes blank for a moment, long enough for him to attach his lips to the spot where your jaw curves up to your ear. you sigh aloud at that too, and sam is feeling very satisfied with your reactions; your lips staying parted and your eyes glazing over when you finally feel a semblance of just how big he is.

he gives your sensitive skin a little suck and your hands fist at the fabric of his white undershirt. he feels your knuckles against his side through the thin cotton, your grip pulling the fabric taut around his back. that’s all the encouragement he needs to keep going.

his tongue is just as greedy as his soft lips as it swipes over the skin of your neck, savoring your taste. the sweat and grime of the hunt had been washed off in the shower not too long ago, but your skin is just a little salty from getting all worked up in his lap. sam is utterly obsessed with that taste, his tongue flattening against your pulse point when you tip your head back to give him better access. the loud breath that you let out is halfway to a moan, and both of you are thinking about his tongue being somewhere else.

you push your hips into him at that thought and sam lets out a low groan at the pressure. now you’re feeling greedy. there’s no way you’ll survive without hearing more of him. you grind into him again and he grips your hips tight, letting out another gruff sound.

“shit, baby,” he groans, hot breath fanning against the skin of your neck. you huff at the sound of his voice, gone all husky and desperate. “what do you– what do you want here? you okay to keep going?” sam sounds like the only thing he’s doing right now is holding back.

“yes,” you gasp out, “god, yes.” you slip your hands all the way down his sides until you can grip the hem of his shirt. “can– can i?”

sam’s chest heaves at the sound of your voice, your sweet question, and the way that you look right into his eyes with such a caring, pleading gaze. he realizes that you’re being careful with him, just like he is with you, and he just has to kiss you for it. you kiss back without question, fingers still gripping his shirt. when he pulls away, he has to keep himself from ripping the shirt off himself, but he wants to see and feel you do it yourself.

“‘course you can,” he says, voice hushed. the small wait is more than worth it when your eyes turn excited and your hands fumble to pull the fabric up his sides. your knuckles brush against his bare skin and once you reach his chest, he lifts his arms and pulls it the rest of the way off. his hands are back on your hips in seconds, and you’re too busy raking your gaze over the exposed skin of his torso to see him swallow thickly as he takes in the way you look at him.

you completely forget that you planned to rip off your own shirt too, and instead lean forward to kiss his collarbone with a heavy fervor. his head tilts back a little as he sighs and you grab at his waist, thumbs eager and brushing against his warm skin. you kiss and lick and suck and sam moans for you. his fingers slip under your shirt and you welcome the sensation, kissing him harder in response.

you dip your head lower, hands beginning to roam, up his muscled arms, over his belly, somehow soft and toned all at once. your mind and body are at war. you want to keep kissing, getting lower, dragging your hands up and over his chest. but you want his hands to move, to feel you all over. then you suppose that you could certainly get both. you part from him for just a moment to pull your shirt off, your hands brushing against his as they hold your waist tight.

his jaw clenches and his eyes turn hungry as he watches you intently. you waste no time in taking off your bra too, watching his face as you do. his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he sees your bare chest rising up and down and he holds back a pleased groan.

he raises his hand up and you think he’s going to touch you there, but he reaches for your face and brushes his knuckles over your cheek bone.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. there’s a rasp to his voice, rough and sweet as he takes you in. your cheeks grow hot, but you bask in the praise anyway.

“and you’re fucking unreal, sam,” you say earnestly, voice equally as husky. he grunts and grabs at your sides, pulling you back into him and kissing your hard. his thumbs push a little into the plush of your breasts and his palms press into your ribs. you arch your back into him, pushing your chest against his and you feel his lip curl up against yours as a guttural sound forces its way out of his throat. a sigh of pleasure leaves your lips and you grind against him in earnest. his hips buck up into yours and the vague thought that he must be uncomfortable in those jeans floats through your mind.

he groans into your mouth and you just need him to touch you more. you pull away, chest heaving, hands roaming. on instinct, sam reaches further up, but at the last second he grips your shoulder instead.

“can i?” he chokes out. 

“yes,” you whine, nodding impatiently and sliding your hands up to his chest, asking for your own permission with your eyes. he catches the pause and look in your eyes and he feels all soft for you again. he leans in close, nuzzling his nose into your cheek and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth.

his voice is still hoarse, but loving too. “you can touch me wherever you want, honey. promise.” you swallow a moan and reciprocate his sweetness with a kiss to his cheek.

“you too, sam,” you huff. “promise i’ll tell you if i need you to stop, but please… don’t stop.”

“okay,” he breathes, “okay, i won’t. i won’t, baby.” with that, he just paws at you, taking and grasping and groaning when you brush your thumbs over his nipples. “shit,” he gasps, his nose still digging into the soft skin of your cheek. he reciprocates, flicking over your hard nipples with his big thumbs, pinching a little and making you whine into his mouth.

it all feels so good, but all you can think about is the ache between your legs. his bulge under your clothed core has you wet, and you need more. you need his fingers.

you dip your head and his lips meet the crown of your head as you squeeze the flesh over his ribs and gasp for breath.

“oh, god. sam, please, i need… more, please,” you croak, dropping your head all the way down to his shoulder and pressing a messy, open mouthed kiss to the skin where his shoulder meets his neck.

“okay, okay. i can give you more,” he whispers fervently, grabbing your hips and lifting you up. you follow his lead, scrambling off of his lap. “go ‘head, lay down, honey,” he urges softly, eyes dark and hungry. you heed his instructions eagerly, settling into the pillows behind you as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, just to ease the pressure. they hang loose on his hips and his black boxers show off his bulge even better. 

you’re about to ask him to just take his jeans all the way off when he carefully grabs your legs from under your knees and drops them open, stunning you into silence. he settles between your legs and slips his hands under the waistband of your sweatpants. he starts to tug at them and he doesn’t have to ask for you to lift your hips for him to shimmy your pants down your ass and onto your thighs. you lift your knees to your chest so that he doesn’t have to move down to get them off.

“so good for me,” he murmurs once they’re fully off, his big hand running down your thigh while the other keeps your knees tucked up. you groan a little at his words, at the sensation, and squirm without thinking. “shhh,” he hushes gently, “‘s okay, ‘m gonna help you out, sweetheart. can i take these off?” he asks, big fingertips playing with the hem of your panties.

you nod your head quickly. “please, yes.” you don’t think you could have him quickly enough.

with your permission, sam doesn’t waste any time. there’s no need for you to lift your hips; he just pushes your knees further into your chest with one hand and slips the waistband down. his knuckles brush against the skin of your ass and you think about how big his whole hand would feel there. but you choose to focus on the look on his face when he pulls your panties all the way down and lets your legs fall open around him.

his pupils are blown out and lips curved up in awe as he runs his hands up your thighs. when you shudder at his touch he applies light pressure, pushing your legs into the bed and humming, all pleased with your reactions.

“please, sam,” you whine, voice breathy and begging as you try your hardest not to squirm so much. but having him over you, his eyes just staring at your bare cunt and big, big hands gripping your upper thighs after more than just months of pining for him… it’s not easy to stay still or quiet or be able to think, really.

sam is holding back from looping his hands under your thighs, pulling you to him and just shoving his face against your pussy. it’s wet and shiny for him and just begging for attention and he needs to taste you more than anything in the world. but he wants what you want and he wants to be soft and careful about it all, for you.

“how do you want it, baby?” he asks hoarsly. under your breath, you swear softly, unbelieving that you’re so lucky to have him.

“y-your fingers, sam, please,” you whine out, eyes glued to the way they look over your thighs, digging lightly into the flesh. they’re so long and thick and you can’t even imagine how much better than your own. sam can’t even be disappointed that you didn’t ask for his mouth; the way he can so clearly see how much you want his fingers, how much you’ve thought about them, gets him going perfectly well enough. and there’s nothing stopping him from eating you out right after he’s made you cum on his fingers. that sounds like heaven.

“okay, honey,” he whispers, rubbing his thumbs over the sensitive skin right where your thighs melt into your outer lips and your eyebrows knit together in desperation. he can’t help himself when he drifts just one hand over your heat, ghosting your skin and making you shiver and moan. his fingertips brush over your lower tummy and the heel of his palm picks up a little of your slick. “so pretty,” he murmurs. you toss your head to the side and into the pillow and breathe heavy.

“please, sam, please,” you gasp, trying not to buck your hips up into his hand, but twitching up anyway.

“alright, alright,” he exhales softly, pressing his hand all the way over you and reveling in the way your eyes squeeze shut and your hips cant up, trying to add more pressure. he lifts his other hand to your hip and presses you back into the mattress gently. just that makes you moan softly. really, sam just wants to keep looking, feeling, exploring. he wants to put both thumbs on the sides of your outer lips and pull them apart and look and feel you shiver against him and tease up and down your slit. 

but he really wants to make you feel good, so he shifts his hand and starts rubbing your clit with two fingers gently. you sigh out, long and loud and pleasured. your hips move up into him again as your hands fly up to grip the pillow by your head. sam groans at the sight.

he dips his fingers lower for a quick second, gathering some of your wetness and rubbing it into your clit. you cry out this time, one hand loosening its grip on the pillow in favor of fumbling for the hand that sam still has pressing your hips down. he obliges happily, holding your hand against your hip bone and goddamn smiling at you.

the pressure builds quickly and you moan and whine and squirm for him, all while he looks at you with awe and love and determination.

“you’ve been so polite for me,” he notes, pleased. “always saying please without me even asking you to.” his tone is hushed and a little gravely before he leans down to place a kiss to your lower stomach. you hum out a sweet moan. “and you sound so lovely, so pretty, honey,” he murmurs.

you grip his hand and the fabric of the pillow and push your face into your upper arm, whining out at his words.

“sa-sam, please, baby,” you groan, “m-more, i need more, i want your fingers in me, please!”

sam grunts at your words. “fuck, you’re so good. asking for exactly what you want, using your words for me, god. i’ll give it to you, ‘f course, i’ll give it to you.” he’s got to be fucking obsessed with you. he starts with one finger, gently prodding at your entrance before easing it in.

“shit…” you moan, stretching the word out and letting your voice break in pleasure. “s-so good,” you mumble, gripping his hand even tighter.

“yeah?” he whispers, pulling his finger out just a little before pushing it back through your folds.

“a-ah! yes,” you pant out. “f-fuck, sam, i–,” you cut yourself off with another moan when he sets a steady pace, just his one finger working wonders. but you’re growing just a little desperate, so worked up and so fucking in love with him that it’s driving you crazy. “m-more, please,” you whine.

“okay, i got you,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb as he gently pushes in another finger.

“gahh– god!” you gasp. “shit, sammy. so good, that’s so good.” you writhe under him as he pumps his long fingers into your begging cunt, making such a lewd, wet sound. “a-ah, fuck! right there, sam. oh my god, right there,” you babble, hips pushing into his hand. it’s not as if no one’s ever hit your sweet spot before, but fuck, it’s different when it’s sam. everything’s different, better, more intense, when it’s sam. 

“yeah? right there?” he presses a kiss to closest place he can reach, bending down and catching the skin of your thigh between his lips. he’s more than just pleased that he’s found your sweet spot so quickly, and as he continues pushing the soft pads of his fingertips right against your gummy walls, he soaks it up, memorizinng it all. 

the way your moans change, your voice jumping in pitch and getting louder, they way you buck up into his hand and the way that you clench around him. and your face, god he could look at it all day, maybe cum in his pants just from seeing you like this. all desperate and needy and blissed out; pupils blown, eyebrows knit together, and mouth hanging open half of the time to let your pretty sounds out. or he gets to watch you snap your jaw shut, bite and lick at your bottom lip, hold a groan back only for your lips to part again to pant and gasp and moan. it’s almost like you forget how to breathe through your nose, and it makes you sound all the more worked up.

as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, he squeezes love into your hand, making you think about his palm against yours and somehow making it all more intense. his thumb rubs the back of your hand soothingly, such a stark contrast to the strength and fervor with which he fucks his fingers into you. 

“breathe, baby,” he reminds you sweetly. god, it’s hard to comply as you watch the muscles of his arm tensing as he pleases you, the veins of his hands and arms popping out with the rush of his blood. but you take in a long, deep breath and let it out. it shudders and ends in a whine, but your muscles relax for a moment and you melt a little into the mattress for just a moment.

“h-haahh, sam, i’m– mm, i’m close!” you whine, thighs tensing up again. you lift your knees and push your feet into the mattress on either side of his thighs, trying hard not to close your legs as the pleasure becomes so intense that you can’t keep still at all.

“fuck, that’s good. you gonna cum for me?” he asks, getting eager. he can’t wait to see you tip over the edge, to feel it. but he doesn’t get greedy, just in case this is the perfect pace for you. 

you answer his prayers in the form of a dirty moan. “huh-harder, please!”

sam is more than happy to oblige. he already knows that he loves to be soft with you. he loves to have his fingers stuffed up your pussy while he holds your hand and kisses your thigh sweetly. he loves to speak to you all gentle and loving and dirty too. but he does love the way you react when harder means just a little rougher, deeper, and faster. your jaw falls all the way open and you can’t close it. your eyes shut tight, then fly right back open because you don’t want to miss the sight of his fingers pumping into you like this. you don’t want to miss the way his face looks as he does it.

and it makes you loud. you’re used to keeping yourself quiet when you take care of yourself, but that’s not an option this time around. not with sam.

and of course, it makes you cum. it sends you reeling, keening, and it pulls his name from your mouth with a force that you’ve never felt before. and sam swears he’s gonna make you cry out his name like that every fucking day, if you’ll let him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, ahh– sam! feels s’good,” you slur. “sam…”

you clench around him so hard that it’s not necessarily easy to fuck you through it, but he does so good anyway. you shudder and pant and whine, and his name said again, all breathy and slurred is just as good as the first shout. and finally, you fall against the bed with a huff of breath, the sheets beneath you wet and messy.

you tense and whine when he pulls his fingers from you, and he’s quick to hush you gently.

“oh, you did so good, baby,” he murmurs, settling his still slick-covered hand on your hip and it makes you shiver just a little. he shuffles a bit closer to you, dropping his head down to kiss your sweet lips. you can barely kiss back when you’re so breathless, but you try, so he settles for sucking a little on your bottom lip and letting you sigh against his hot skin. your hand drops down from where it gripped the pillow, settling hungrily on his broad shoulder and running up and down the skin.

“felt so good,” you mumble against his lips, still blissed out. his smile interrupts the lazy kiss, and he feels greedy again. insatiable, really.

“will you let me make you feel good again?” he whispers, making sure you know that you can say no if it’s too much. it’s clear to him that you need to catch your breath, so he certainly won’t start right away. not until you ask him to.

“god, you’re too good to be true,” you say, wondering at him. “but i wanna make you feel good, too.”

he smiles wider, then kisses you again with a little more passion than the last. “trust me, honey. this’ll make me feel real good. i wanna taste you, so fucking bad, baby.”

you can’t help the groan that escapes your throat at his words. “yeah?” you ask breathlessly.

“uh-huh,” he nods, nose tickling the skin of your cheek. “you gonna let me make you cum on my tongue, honey?”

“fucking yes,” you pant, “yes, please, sam… make me cum on your tongue.” 

it doesn’t take long to learn; if you let him start, he’s never gonna be able to stop. he’s completely obsessed and in love with you, and you can expect his mouth on your pussy until the day he dies.

[nuemanfilms]

hi honey!! i absolutely love your work and i was wondering if you could do a size kink and breeding kink sam winchester, thank you!!

i’ve been craving sam for DAYS. this is exactly what I needed.

“Fuck, such a good girl bouncing on my dick like that.” Sam praised. His cock bruised your cervix with each movement. He was so big.

“Sammy.. you’re too big..” You whimper out, and sam lets out a breathless laugh. “You think i’m big, honey?” He cooed. “So big in that little tummy?”

You cried, he could tell you needed his help. So he took his hands and gripped your hips as you laid on his chest. Moving your hips for you. You let a mewl.

All you could think about though, was his cum.

“Please.. I want you to fill me up, I need your cum, please!” He groaned at that, you felt him grip your hips harder, moving you so he was fully sheathed inside of you.

“F-fuck.. you’d love that wouldn’t you? My cum in that tight little pussy? You want me to cum inside of you?” He grunted, bucking his hips up to meet your slow pace. “Gonna fill you up so good, Sweet girl.. get you all swollen with my kids.”

You sobbed out a, “Can I cum? Pleaseplease..”

“Go on, Baby.. let me feel it.”

When you felt the knot come undone, you felt his warmth fill you up.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Kiss Me ♡ Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam winchester x reader

Warnings: no use of y/n, I'm very dyslexic so idk witch which is witch, not proof read, I wrote this in an hour? Help, kiss, idk what else to put, this may not make sense but I just needed to write something and all my wips bored me so ✨️tada✨️

Summary: a witch cursed Sam to only awake with a true loves kiss, so naturally Dean calls you, the only problem is you haven't seen the Winchesters in 5 years.

You swore that you would never see the Winchesters again.

That was the only thing that you promised yourself. The one rule you could never break.

As a hunter you don't get a lot of garentees in life, you get close to zero, but this was your one none negotiable rule and everyone knew that.

Which is why you were cursing yourself as you drove down the highway, going at a very illegal speed trying to get to the winchesters as fast as possible.

Or more accurately to one spefic Winchester in particular.

Sam Winchester.

Dean had called you not even an hour ago, you hadn't picked up the fist 5 times, but on the 6th ring you figured it must be important.

He wasn't making alot of sense, but one thing was clear, Sam was in trouble and he needed you.

The winchesters being in trouble wasn't anything new, in fact it was the norm, but this seemed diffrent, it had to be diffrent otherwise you wouldn't have been called. Dean never called you even when you worked together, it was always sam. You and Dean didn't realy get along, it's not that you hated eachother, but you were both weary of eachother. And both of your concerns arose form the same factor, Sam. It was a safe assumption to say that you both cared for Sam, but unfortunately that ment that you often clashed.

But that's all in the past. Because you hadn't spoken to them in years. You hadn't seen Dean or Sam in 5 years. Yet here you were knocking on the door to the address of a motel that Dean frantically gave you over the phone.

"Hi-" you awkwardly began to sat as Dean opened the door, but you were quickly cut off.

"This is going to sound insane but right now I don’t have time to explain." Dean began, as he basically dragged you inside to where Sam lay unconscious on one of the cheap motel beds.

"Can you just kiss him?" Dean bluntly asked looking you in the eyes.

You were completely taken back by the forwardness of his request.

"What?" You muttered, glancing quickly to Sam, laying almost lifeless on the bed. He looked bad. You wouldn't have known he was alive if his chest didn't fall up and down ever so slightly.

As if reading your mind dean began to speak again. "And quickly as he might actually die soon."

"Sorry I'm a bit confused, why-" you began but were quickly cut off again.

"A witch, obsessed with fairy tales, cursed him like sleeping beauty or some princess shit and I thought killing the bitch would end the curse I was wrong so you need to kiss him."

Your head wad spinning. If it was sleeping beauty then that ment that...

That couldn't be true, could it?

No that made no sense you hadn't seen the younger of the brothers in 5 years. He was probably so diffrent. He could have lost his boyish smile. Or his perfect hair. Or his humour. Or-

"That doesn't explain why I specifically-" you began, but just as before you were cut off by Dean.

"Cut the bullshit, and just kiss him. I can waste time explaining but sammy is dieing, please. I just know that this will work, it has to, you look at him like I look-" he stopped himself, sighing almost lost in thought. "It doesn't matter just kiss him goddammit!" He practically shouted.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "just hurry up, I'll be outside."

With that he turned his back and slayed the motel door behind him as he left.

He left you alone with Sam.

Sam.

He looked terrible. He looked dead. It broke your heart. You could have stopped this. If you had just been there. If you'd had stayed....

No. You couldn't have.

You and Sam said things to eachother that you should have never said, and it ended up with you waking up in his bed. And you couldn't do that. Neither of you could. So you had to leave. And that's exactly what you did.

And that's when your rule stared. You told Bobby to never put you on a hunt with them or you wouldn't show.

Your rule spread like wild fire and soon it was a common known fact that you didn't hunt with the winchesters. No one knew why, but no one questioned it, especially given the winchesters track record.

Yet here you are, 5 years down the line, breaking your one rule.

You walked over to the edge of the bed to where Sam lay.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered. You didn't know exactly what you apologising for. Kissing Sam or for everything before this moment.

Closing your eyes you tentatively leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his for a brief second before pulling away.

He didn't move.

No, no, no no. This couldn't be happening.

You reached to grab his hand, waeving your fingers between his.

"Come on Sam, please wake up." You pleaded as tears began to fill your eyes. How could you be so stupid? You left hom for 5 years, he could have been dead for that whole time and you would have had no idea.

"Please..." you sobbed as you rested your head on his chest.

You felt numb. It felt like you had just been stabbed in the chest and someone kept twisting the knife.

Gently a hand started stroking your hair.

Your head jolted up.

There he was, eyes open, a small smile on his lips.

"Hi love," he bearly whispered, half confused half over joyed.

"Sam!" You cried and you flung your arms round his neck, "you scared me you son of a bitch."

"What are you...?" He began but trailed off.

"Dean called." You answered, quickly remembering the whole situation, pulling shyly away from Sam.

"You came?" He sounded shocked.

"You needed my help."

"I thought-"

"Yeah you made me break my one rule Sam so...?"

A silence fell over the pair of you. You couldn't look him in the eyes. God you felt awkward.

"It was a pretty crap rule." He mumbled, looking directly at you, a half smile playing on his lips.

"I had good reason for it I mean-" you began.

"You ran away beacsue you were scared." He said matter of fact way, his eyes showing his hurt.

"I hunt monsters for a living I doubt that I was scared of some feelings, they're hardly spooky." You laughed. It was painfully obviously forced.

"So why did you leave then?"

You couldn't answer his question. He was right. You were scared. Scared of what you felt for him. And back then it felt like a valid reason. But right now, you felt stupid.

"You know what the curse was don't you?" He asked.

"Sam I-"

"It was the cliche of a true loves kiss. The witch said it didn't exist so I was destined to die."

You stayed silent, you couldn't look at him. You knew what it ment. You both did.

"Yet here I am, here you are." He said as though he was proving evidence in court. You were evidence of true love. After 5 years of not seeing eachother, you both still were irrevocably in love with one another. It was true love.

"Here I am." You agreed, finally meeting his eyes. "So now what?" You asked tentatively.

You were both quiet then. His smile only grew as he leaned closer to you.

"I think it's time you got rid of your stupid rule." He whispered in your ear.

"Why should I do that?" You pulled away, a matching smile on your face.

His smile softened as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"So that way I can wake up with you beside me, instead of you just living inside my dreams. So I can hold on to you instead of just our memories. So you can kiss me all the time and not just beacsue I'm dieing."

"That does seem like a valid reason, you got anymore?"

"Because I know, even after 5 years, you still feel the same way I do"

"And what's that?"

"I love you."

You were only inches away from his face now. You could feel his breath on your skin. He leaned on closer pressing his lips to yours.

His lips felt so familiar it almost hurt. It felt right. This is where you needed to be, this is where you should have been for five whole years.

You let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you impossibly closer.

His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed as he deemed the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair.

You didn't want to stop,you couldn't, and judging by Sam's reaction to your touch he couldn't either.

"Have you-?" Neither of you hear the door to the motel open as Dean basically ran in. "Oh jesus my eyes, sammy I'm glad you're okay but fucking hell!" He quickly truned on his heels, overdramtically covering his eyes. "Use protection!" He shouted just before he closed the door, muttering under his breath 'these darm kids' as though he were a middle aged man.

You and Sam just looked at eachother for a singular moment before bursting into laughter.

"I might ammend my rule slightly..." you said after a few deep breaths.

"How so?" He asked leaning in closer to you once more.

"I now swear that I'll see the winchesters everyday, or at least one spefic Winchester everyday."

[gothfleur]

home again - sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader/vampire!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, injuries, blood mention, animal death mention, swearing, so much pining, petty dean, crying, guilt, poorly edited, lmk if i missed something! ➖⟢ wc : 1.5K summary : after being turned into a vampire, you struggle to face sam again.

prefer to read on ao3? read it here!

note: this is my first time writing in a long time, and i'm trying out a new style... this is also my first time writing for sam! pls be kind and enjoy!

It’s been fourteen days since the vampires took you away as you slept in a dingy motel room with the Winchesters. Twelve days since they turned you into one of them. And seven days since you wasted them all.

The vampires had turned you, kept you, and starved you. Ensuring you would be driven into a bloodlust-fueled frenzy when they gave you something alive. 

And when they did, you couldn’t help yourself. Soon, there was a crumpled human body at your feet, red pooling in a puddle beneath it—her. Thus leaving you a full-fledged vampire, bound to this way of life forevermore. 

When you came to, mind clear now that you had been fed, you were careful in making sure none of them would hurt you ever again. Or… anyone else, for that matter. 

You found Sam first. Asking around for you not far from where the vampires had taken you. 

Sam felt as if he was running out of time. He had been worried sick, hardly sleeping or not sleeping at all. How could he rest if he didn’t know where you were? If you were even safe? He didn't even want to entertain the thought that you could be dead. You were out there, and he was going to find you. 

You ultimately swore off seeing Sam and Dean ever again. You would just have to forget them; you were what they hunted now. You couldn’t face them, a monster in the perfect likeness of their friend. You were afraid of what they would think and what they would do. Would they forgive you? Would they turn you away? Worse yet, there was a possibility they would kill you, right? You were a vampire now, after all.

So, you tried to keep it low-key before you could get your shit together and get out of town, leaving your old life behind. Feeding only on animals and staying away from the humans around town. But when Sam and Dean caught wind of some mysterious blood-sucking disease affecting the animals, they knew they were close to finding the vampires who had something to do with your disappearance. 

Little did they know, they just found you. 

You had your teeth buried deep in the neck of a rat when you felt a blade press to the back of your neck.

“Fine dining out here, huh? Rats, yum.”

Dammit, Dean. Always with the sarcastic comments.

Your vampire instincts said to attack, but your human heart said to flee. You didn’t want them to see what you’d become. 

“Answer our questions, and this blade won’t have your head rolling on the ground.” 

Sam.

He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded desperate, worried, and at wit's end. If threats were going to be the quickest way to find you, so be it. He hoped this vampire would listen, that violence would be a last resort. This isn’t how he likes to go about things, but with someone he cared about in danger, he didn’t want to waste time.

Hunger stabs at your stomach at the smell of them. Blood is pulsing beneath the fragile layer of their skin. You can hear it sliding along their veins, and you fight back a gag. These were your friends, not something to devour. 

You move, trying to stand and run, but the blade at your neck presses into your skin. You yelp, and a hand turns you and pins you to the ground, back pressed against the damp grass. You squirm in an attempt to free yourself, but you're weak and untrained. Your vampire strength can’t and won’t save you now. 

You watch helplessly as their faces strain and relax in realization. Morphing from surprise, relief, then to some emotion you can’t place. Something tells you it's somewhere between anger, fear, and denial. Probably some fucked-up human mix of all three.

“Y/N…” Sam murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at you, the blood drying on your lips. You can hear his heart slow; he’s relieved to see you, despite everything. 

Dean removes his hands immediately, realizing it’s you who he’s hurt and pinned to the ground. 

Sam takes a step forward, crouching in front of you and reaching to pull you up. You can’t help but shirk away, scrambling backward away from him. Sam winces at your reaction, and he bites at the inside of his lip.

“I’m so sorry, you guys. So sorry… I,” Words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. If your heart was still beating, you’re sure it would be leaping out of your chest right about now.

“Shh, shh. Y/N, we aren’t… we won’t hurt you,” Sam says, his voice soft and sweet like it always was. It’s only been two weeks since you saw him last, but so much has happened since then. It felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now. You were a completely different person now, on an entirely different level of existence. 

“But what if I hurt you?” You cry, twisting your fingers between blades of grass as you lift your gaze to them. “I can’t trust myself. I’m so scared; I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean has his hand hovering above his knife’s sheath, and you don’t blame him. You’re grateful. If you can’t stop yourself, maybe he will. 

Sam swallows, glancing back at Dean to steady himself. He wasn’t expecting this, and if he was being honest, he didn’t know what to say or to do. But this was still you. The person whose coffee order he’d memorized, whose smile he’d tease out with compliments and stupid jokes, whose eyes he'd find himself lost in more times than he could count. You might be... different, but you’re still Y/N, and he’s going to make you remember that. You’re not a monster, and you’ll never be, at least not to him. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he assured, his voice as gentle as possible. He reaches out again, his large hand coming to rest on your shoulder. It’s warm against your eternally cool skin, and you realize you’d forgotten what his warmth felt like. 

“Sam,” You whisper, eyes flickering down at his hand, then back to his face. He’s handsome as always, his hazel eyes shining in the moonlight. You search them, scanning for any fear or disgust. There’s none of that. Instead, you find acceptance and concern. Your breaths come easier, and you swallow. Everything is easier when he’s by your side. Tears well in your eyes, and you realize that under all of your fear, there is comfort in seeing him again. 

Sam watches as your eyes flutter shut, a tear rolling down your blood-streaked cheek. He wants so much to hold you, to wipe your face clean, and to tell you he’ll always be here for you. You’ll always be his Y/N. 

“Aren’t you scared of me? Scared of what I’ll do? Of what I am?” You whine, looking up at Sam and Dean with a pleading look that crushes their hearts. 

“You’re still you. Changed some, but still you.” Sam nods as he speaks, his inner brow raised worryingly. His words make you want to burst into tears. You were so scared of rejection, of them leaving you—all that makes you feel kind of silly now. 

Dean sighs, his hand falling to his side as the other reaches up to rub his temple. 

“Just keep your teeth to yourself, you hear?” He jokes, but you know he’s partly serious, too. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” You chuckle, sniffling and wiping the tears from your cheek. You feel the dried blood crack on your face, and you wipe at it, scrubbing hard as it flakes off. Overcoming your sanguine urges would be hard, not to mention the fact you’re likely facing eternity. But maybe with these two by your side, it won’t be so bad. 

Sam pulls you close, wrapping his long arms around you. He missed you. He missed hearing your laugh and breathing in your perfume whenever you walked past. He wasn’t going to let you go again. 

You hesitate to hug him back at first, your vampiric instincts firing at full blast. But when you finally hold him, that all melts away. You feel human again, for a moment. And strong enough to beat this thing. After all, you’d met vampires who were able to resist their urges. 

Sam strokes the back of your head once, feeling your hair under his fingers before breaking the hug. He smiles at you, and as he stands, he brings you up with him. His warm hand holds yours, and you never want him to let go. 

“Jesus, you two,’ Dean rolls his eyes and motions back towards baby, ‘let’s just get back home. Y/N, you need a shower.” 

“I missed you too, Dean.” You smile, and the three of you start back towards the car. 

You breathe in the cool night air. You’re home again.

[arjwrites]

i could never give you peace- sam winchester x reader

summary: as the world ends, you and sam share comfort and fears

warnings: none, no use of y/n, gn!reader

word count: 1.8k (including the song lyrics)

song: peace by taylor swift

a/n: thank you so so so much for requesting this! i reference a lot of canon events but like very loosely and very much so for the sake of this plot. so there are probably a few inconsistencies you may have to overlook or canon plot points you may have to disregard hahaha. i really hope you enjoy <333

our coming-of-age has come and gone, suddenly the summer, it's clear

You sat, perched on the trunk of the Impala. The metal was warm under your legs as it seeped into your core, its temperature battling against the chilly breeze that was sending shivers across your upper body. It was as if summer was fighting desperately to hold on, but autumn was gaining ground by the minute. The air already felt different, a clear sign that things were changing around you and there was nothing you could do about it. 

As your arms pulled your knees inwards toward your chest and your chin found a home to rest atop them, another body brushed against yours. Sam leaned against the trunk next to you, snaking a hand around your waist before joining your comfortable silence. It was as close to a moment of peace as you three had experienced in a while, pulled over to the side of a gorgeous mountain highway to rest as Dean tinkered with something under the hood of the car- a moment of escape for you all.

While Sam’s eyes settled on the picturesque landscape in front of you, tinged so perfectly with a sweeping brushstroke of sunset colors, you found your own gaze resting on him. At first glance, you saw Sam, the same Sam you spent every hour of every day with. The Sam you loved, the Sam you knew intimately, as if he was an extension of your own soul. You smiled to yourself, awash with the familiar comfort of his presence. You sat like this for a while.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he remarked after some time, turning his head towards you. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got caught somewhere on their journey to escape your lips. You blinked in a slight disbelief. One minute, you were looking at the same Sam who had sat down next to you, but with the flash of his big, cheesy smile, all of a sudden he was someone else. For a fleeting moment, captured in that look of pure joy, you saw Sammy. The long, tired years melted off his face for a fraction of a second and you were transported back all those years ago, when you had just met, when things weren’t as heavy, when there was still hope and peace in the world. 

“Yeah. It’s beautiful, Sam,” you whispered. You blinked away the tears that began to well in your eyes, and as they melted back into a gloss that coated your vision, the moment was gone. It was just Sam again. It was then you realized just how much you two had grown up together- just how different things had become. 

i never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near and it's just around the corner, darling, 'cause it lives in me no, i could never give you peace

Your journey with Sam had been a long one. Every trial and tribulation, every vampire and demon and werewolf, every run-in with heaven or hell, the devil himself, the two of you were hand-in-hand. 

You had met Sam back when things were simple- when life was solving cases and looking for his father. Finding Sam had been like finding a missing piece of your soul. You fit together so easily, so effortlessly, it was as if you were meant for each other. The two of you fell hard and fast, inseparable from the moment you locked eyes the first time. You knew it in your heart, and Sam did too.

Then, things began to change, and quickly. Right before your eyes, your sweet, dorky boyfriend became the eye of the storm. Wherever he went, death and destruction followed close behind. And that terrified Sam to his very core. He pulled back, pushed away, but you persisted. Each attempt he made to evade your love, to distance himself, to keep from endangering you, you remained starkly at his side. If it was truly the end of the world, like everyone said, you’d go down swinging. You’d go down with Sam. 

but i'm a fire, and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean wave blues come

Times were tough for a long time. Things never really got easier, but the two of you got used to the chaos. As guilty as Sam felt for putting you in danger, he was so grateful that you chose to stick around. After each obstacle, each battle, he would thank his lucky stars that he had you there to give him the strength to go on. You were the lighthouse that guided him home through rough seas. And anytime he lost faith, one look at you reminded him what he was fighting for. There were many times where the world felt cold and dark, unforgiving. But then there was you- the warmth and light you radiated was enough to light a spark, to bring joy back to his world. 

all these people think love's for show but i would die for you in secret

Sam Winchester was a lot of things. The boy with the demon blood, Lucifer’s vessel, bringer of the apocalypse, saver of the world. But none of these things mattered, because behind closed doors, Sam Winchester was nothing but yours. In quiet moments, Sam would hold you close, reveling in the chance to have something truly good that he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for. You would be there for Sam no matter what, willing to lay your life on the line to save him- the world be damned. There was no world without Sam Winchester. And Sam saw no world worth living in without you. 

the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

The one thing you could never help Sam through was his guilt. You grounded him through hell and back, quelling his fears and lifting his spirits. But each time you found yourself in the line of fire, ever in the slightest hint of danger, a heavy weight pressed in Sam’s stomach, and he would never accept your attempts at absolution. 

“You just… You deserve a normal life. Some peace, after all these years. I’m stuck in this, it’s in my blood, but you? You could have so much more. I wish you would see that.” 

In these moments, you would sit with him, murmur in his ear all the reasons you loved him, all the reasons you stayed. You would remind him that the same duty that compelled him to save the world, time and time again, compelled you to save him. To care for him, to love him. Any soft, quiet, comfortable days, hours, minutes, however few and far between, were your peace. He was your peace. 

and you know that I'd swing with you for the fences sit with you in the trenches give you my wild, give you a child

The highs were high and the lows were low, but with you, nothing was impossible for Sam to bear. You were there to shout victories from the rooftops, always the first to sing praises and raise toasts. And you were there to pick up broken pieces, to sit crosslegged on the bedroom floor and put things back together. No weight was ever carried alone- every burden was shared to lighten the load. 

There was so much you were willing to offer Sam, and him you. On hunts and in battles, the two of you could be reckless, wild, throwing your bodies in front of each other to spare even the smallest hurt. And when you got home, you protected each other in gentler ways. When it was too hard to think about the things going on beyond your bedroom door, you and Sam would talk about your future life- about when this was all over, if it ever could be. You had big dreams- at least, they felt big to the two of you, but they were nothing out of the ordinary. That was the goal- ordinary. You’d trade questions- “What color should we paint the living room?” “Where will we go on our honeymoon?” “What do you think our daughter will be like?” 

give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Other times, it was easier not to speak at all. To anyone else, the silence you often shared may have felt heavy and imposing. But for the two of you, it was an unparalleled comfort. You would turn all the lights off and lay in your bed in the dark, listening to the sound of each other breathing, watching each other intensely. These were times where you could simply be. Times where your eyes and souls and hands did all the talking- a kind of communication that transcended language, but provided so much understanding. 

family that I chose, now that i see your brother as my brother is it enough?

Over the years, you had settled together into a little family. The love you felt for Sam extended in many ways to Dean- the only other person in this world that tethered Sam to reality. Dean was your brother just as much as he was Sam’s. And Dean saw what you meant to his younger brother- he knew you were the lifevest keeping him afloat more often than not. You and Dean shared a special kind of understanding that manifested in knowing glances and whispered comments behind Sam’s back. Sam was both of your number one priority at all times, a powerful force that brought you two together in the early days, and kept you two close over the years. 

but there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west i’d give you my sunshine, give you my best but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

Sometimes it felt like you were surrounded. There was no way out- nowhere to turn, to take cover, to make an escape. Heaven, hell, everyone was hot on your trail. Sam and Dean had their roles to play in the end of the world, so you dutifully settled into yours, trying every day to bring the light into Sam’s days. But there was only so far tender kisses and sweet words could go when your lives were crashing down around you. It didn’t matter, though. This was your duty, your sense of fulfillment. If you could bring a moment of levity in the darkness, or take on even the smallest ounce of his burden, you felt a sense of meaning. It was an uphill battle, day after day. 

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

You weren’t sure you were going to make it out of this alive. Any of you. And that’s what hurt the most. As much as Sam worried about you, you were the one who could never give him peace. But no matter what, you would go down swinging, fighting to show him the love that he so desperately deserved and so defiantly denied himself. Maybe it would be enough to save him. Maybe it would make it all worthwhile.

[starfilmz]

i can’t write rn bc writer’s block, but i can’t help but imagine trust fund baby!reader who’s friends with sam when he was in stanford.

i don’t know if trust fund baby is the right label to use but just imagine very rich reader unintentionally (and intentionally) spoiling sam to no end especially when they’re hanging out.

sam would’ve probably preferred hanging out in parks, arcades, diners, etc just simple places where he doesn’t have to spend much money, and you’re not one to complain, but you would pay for almost half (80% if sam wasn’t paying attention) of everything yall buy.

he was used to eating just so he wouldn’t starve to death so he’d only spend money on one meal and a soda, but ever since befriending you, every meal ends with desserts— sometimes shared or not, but since sam can’t stop your sweet tooth and he continuously refuses to let you spend money on him, he’ll let you by one for yourself and you’d always share with him!

arcades are ya’lls favorite spot for sureee. whenever yall are too into a game, sam would fail to notice when you’d spend money on tokens. it would be his turn to play and he won’t realize you’re gone until he finished a round, then he’d just see you carrying a whole bag of tokens.

“if we don’t run out of coins then i’ll have more chances to win,” you proudly say. sam rolls his eyes and grabs a handful from your bag. “or just more times you’ll lose!”

for crane games, when you’d want a stuffed toy so badly, you’ll say:

“what if i just buy the teddy bear?” sam laughs at your words, but he’ll soon learn you weren’t kidding when you somehow managed to convince one of the attendants to let you buy with actual money.

sam walks beside you, staring down on the bear plushie in your arms. “how much did you pay the guy?” you only give him a grin as a response.

drinks are always on your tab unless offered otherwise. sam will always offer, after every night out with you, to buy the both of you greasy food to avoid hangovers though. friday night, usually past midnight, would be the time you’d see yourself eating whatever burger sam ordered for you, sitting on a curb in front of the diner with him.

a few weeks before his law school interview, you offered (forced) sam to let you buy him a suit. when sam first showed you the the suit he planned to wear (which were the ones he’d always use when he pretend to be fbi but you don’t know that) and despite his explanation that a quick wash in the laundry and some ironing it’ll look better, you simply refused and brought him to your usual spot to buy fancy clothes.

“since he’s a bit tall, you’ll need to do a lot of adjustments with the suits.” the saleswoman explained. sam immediately had a worried expression at the thought of you spending even more money, but before he could argue, you would’ve already handed your card to the lady.

“do what you need to do, just make sure we’ll get them back in a week,” you said. you turned to see sam and you could only gave him a reassuring smile at his face. “this is the least i can do for you, sam. don’t fight it.”

in group works, your “friends” would suggest doing the work at your house since you supposedly had the biggest. you don’t keep your upbringing a secret to anyone, but sam can see how uncomfortable you’d be when other people would boast your wealth on your behalf.

“i think doing it in the library is fine,” sam would intervene in the conversation you were already zoning out on. “it’s easier to plan meetings, too.”

“but y/n’s house—“

“—has other people living there. we don’t know if y/n’s parents would agree to every schedule we have so let’s just do the work in the library, or anywhere in the campus.” sam’s hand would be on the small on your back after, as if reassuring you and bringing you back into the conversation when everyone was expecting your response.

you could only nod, eyes on him. “yeah, sam’s right. sorry.” but you still gave him a small smile which was enough for him to know you’re thankful for what he did.

[lostalioth]

Could you make Sam, Dean, or Cas(one or all whatever you feel like but I love Sam🫶) with like an alternative/goth person? I can describe me as an example, real short with fluffy purple mid-length hair, tons of piercings and genderfluid(uses all pronouns), with a slim thick but still more of a slim thick/chubby/muscular with great humor like Deadpool as you loved animals and horror games. I love going to concerts and art, anything creative and going to college for marine biology/zoology!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩/𝘢𝘭𝘵!𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳

warnings: gender neutral!reader (or i did my best to), goth/alt!reader (if i failed at describing that im sorry as well), reader described to wear eyeliner/makeup and jewelry and piercings mentioned, short sweet fluff with sammy boy.

a/n: a couple things i did my best to write this as gender neutral as i could? i may have failed as i tpcially write x female reader but i tried and i didnt know exactly what you wanted me to write besides one of the supernatural boys with an alt/goth person so sorry its just a short headcannon :) also this is my frist time writing for any of the supernatural boys so im sorry if he is out of character.

Sam loves to do your eyeliner for you on the days when you just don't feel up to it, your full makeup look often takes you a minute to complete. Of course as with everything Sam gets very dedicated to it and so he only does it after he has perfected it, not wanting to ruin your look with imperfect liner. Meaning sometimes it may just take longer in the end than if you did it on your own. You could care less though because as Sam does it, he will have a very soft grasp on your face and or neck the whole time. Softly caressing your skin with his thumb mindlessly in focus. The small action always makes your heart swell.

Plus: after almost 2 weeks of begging and endlessly promising to never show or tell Dean, he lets you do your signature eyeliner look on him. He wouldn't let you do your full regular makeup look on him but you were happy he even agreed to the eyeliner.

“Babe I promise you're gonna look so cool once I'm done” you gush with a small smile on your face. You had a hold on his chin to force his head still. You were currently sat on his lap in your shared room at the bunker, Him being sat on your vanity chair.

“You're lucky i love you princess” he chuckled softly and rubs his hands over your thighs, giving them a small squeeze as continue working on your masterpiece.

Speaking of your shared bedroom in the bunker, with your and Sam's combined wardrobes there was a severe lack of color. The both of you favoring black and darker colors.

You require attention from San often even when he is on one of his research deepdives. So Sam doing whatever he can to keep his girl happy worked it out that he will do his researching on the couch. That way you can lay out next to him with your head in his lap. He often finds himself playing and fidgeting with your necklaces or ear piercings, facial piercings, etc.

You have a darker sense of humor that tends to come out at inopportune moments on hunts. It never fails to break tension however and get a small laugh out of both the brothers.

Sam isn't all that big on PDA but loves giving you small random shows of affection, his hand rubbing your shoulder, a small squeeze of your hip in passing. His favorite though being small kisses of appreciation, reassurance, etc. though after a small and not entirely compliant of him messing up your makeup when he'd kiss your face and how it took you a long time. He began turning the small kissing habit into kissing your hand, the top of your head, your shoulder, anywhere but your face when you had your full makeup look on.

When you’d tag along on hunts with the boys Sam bought you a small vial necklace that matched all your other jewelry for you to wear and fill with holy water. Just in case you needed it.

The brothers also found out the hard way that when you're fully dressed up in your gothic/alternative look on hunts the three of you are often turned away at churches. You learned to pack a more normal outfit to switch into if it's necessary to step foot in church. You also easily overheat with your all black clothing. Sam started always keeping the AC on in the impala, at least when he's in the driver's seat that is.

Sam finds himself tracing or kissing your anti-possession tattoo that you had gotten alongside them. You don't often go on hunts with them, Sam being far too worried and nervous about your well being. He's concerned you'll get hurt even not out on hunts so he was relieved when you agreed to get the tattoo when they did. He wants nothing more than for you to be safe and happy.

“I will always protect you baby you know that right?” Sam questions softly as his finger traces around your shared tattoo and any others you have.

“I know that sweet boy” you smile fondly at your boyfriend and snuggle closer in his arms.

→ a/n: PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK AND HOPE YOU ENJOYED BABES AND SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS THIS WASNT PROOF READ :)

[eepwtf]

UPCOMING BOTS / BOT DUMP!!

i’m a sucker for the fall season, every and any season CANNOT top the fall season at all. which is why i’m making (some) horror/halloween inspired bots—even if there’s like 70 something days till halloween. along with a few random bots i've done and going to do.

tvdu ☆彡

Kai Parker: 𓏲ּ ghostface au! 𓂃

after you caught his eyes, he had an inexplicable curiosity over you. every step you took, every conversation you had with other people, he was there, watching you from afar. of course, that didn’t sedate his curiosity over you. so, when someone in your orbit ventured a little too close, he took matters into his own hands—quite literally. he gutted the perceived threat, the world around him narrowing into a singular focus: you. to him, it wasn’t just a crime; it was an artistic expression, a violent confession of his feelings woven into a tapestry of blood and chaos. He crafted his work with meticulous care, each stroke of the blade a declaration of his affection. yet, in the heat of his actions, a twist of fate caught him off guard—there you were, witnessing it all. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ halloween costumes 𓂃

caroline's halloween party loomed on the horizon, a spectral deadline that demanded perfection. every cobweb, jack-o'-lantern, and plastic skeleton needed to be meticulously placed. the entire event had to be flawless, a masterpiece of festive horror. you, however, felt a different kind of dread. social gatherings weren't your forte, and the thought of navigating a sea of costumed strangers made your stomach churn. but elena, with her infectious enthusiasm, had other plans. she'd already amassed an army of costumes for you to try on, each one more outrageous than the last. as she twirled before you in a dizzying parade of personas—from sultry vampire to whimsical fairy—her eyes sparkled with anticipation, silently demanding your opinion on each piece of clothing she’d modeled on herself. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ cookies and kisses 𓂃

elena passion for baking was palpable, even if she wasn't a seasoned expert. what truly brought her joy was your presence in the kitchen, your willingness to join her culinary adventures. she cherished those moments when you'd sample her latest creations, those little baking treats she'd present with such enthusiasm. as you took that first bite, elena's eyes would light up, watching intently for your reaction. the moment you'd let out a contented groan of approval, a proud smile would bloom across her face, warming her from within. in those sweet instances, she felt a sense of accomplishment that went beyond the mere act of baking—it was about the connection, the shared experience, and the simple pleasure of making someone she cared for happy through her heartfelt efforts. Bonnie Bennett: 𓏲ּ season of the witch ( witch!user ) 𓂃

bonnie had gone to your place for witchcraft lessons, bringing some herbs you had specifically asked for, and of course, she brought the most important thing she needed for the lessons. herself. she knew that the lessons you were teaching her were more advanced, and that she needed to pay attention but as you began to explain the complex theories and gestures, she found her concentration wavering. your shoulder pressed against hers as you demonstrated a particularly intricate hand movement, the warmth of your body so close to hers, the subtle scent of herbs that clung to your skin, the intensity in your eyes as you spoke of each spell - it all combined to make her head spin.

Damon Salvatore: 𓏲ּ lost in your iris 𓂃

damon tried to fight his feelings for you, but you were his weakness. he sees you completely, and he’d do anything to have you near him. every glance you exchanged pulled him deeper into a world only you inhabited, where his heart raced and his resolve faltered. he yearned to lose himself in those captivating eyes, longing to feel the gentle spark of your existence beside him. Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ so confusing 𓂃

klaus wrestled with uncertainty, his feelings for you a tangled web of emotions. some days, he was convinced you harbored a deep-seated dislike for him, your every glance and gesture seeming to confirm his fears. other times, he caught himself nurturing a grudging resentment towards you, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. despite all of that, he persistently suggested grabbing drinks. it had become his go-to solution, a way to bridge the gap between you two–or perhaps to blur the lines of your complicated relationship. so, inevitably, you'd find yourselves perched on barstools in some dimly lit establishment, nursing your drinks, surrounded by the hum of stranger's conversations. the atmosphere was always thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. sometimes, you'd manage to fall into an easy rhythm, laughing at shared jokes and swapping stories about your day. in these moments, the confusion would recede, and a genuine connection seemed possible. but more often than not, an awkward tension would creep in. silences stretched too long, laughter felt forced, and both of you would become hyper-aware of every word and gesture. ( this is actually my fav rn!! )

Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ his muse 𓂃

klaus always found himself getting lost in the dance of his hands across the canvas, transforming the lifeless white expanse into a vibrant masterpiece. the studio was his sanctuary, a world inhabited only by his artistic vision and you—his ethereal muse. in his eyes, you were the embodiment of perfection, and his brush strokes captured your essence without flaw. the art, a mirror of his perception, revealed no imperfections, for in his mind, you were utterly flawless.

spn ⟢

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ angels and halloween ( angel!user ) ᵎᵎ

you were an angel, which meant that you had no idea about humans, especially in their tradition of halloween. so when dean catches you staring at the halloween decor, and costumes in a store, he goes out of his way to make this a memorable halloween for the angel. he planned an elaborate evening, starting with pumpkin carving. your first attempt at pumpkin carving was... unique. the face you created had a lopsided grin and mismatched eyes, one comically larger than the other. next came costume selection, where the two of you went to the nearest halloween, a warehouse-sized space filled with endless racks of costumes and accessories. you browsed through countless options: superheroes, movie characters, mythical creatures. dean suggested a sexy devil costume with a mischievous grin, but you firmly declined, not finding the humor in it. ( i think this is my top 2 fav! )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ insatiable ( vamp!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean’s fangs throbbed with an insatiable hunger, a primal urge he struggled to contain. every pulse of blood rushing through nearby veins called to him like a siren's song. the warmth radiating from human bodies sent shockwaves of desire coursing through his undead form. but resistance only seemed to intensify the craving. his heightened senses picked up on every nuance—the slight sheen of sweat on exposed skin, the rhythmic thump of hearts, the tantalizing scent of life itself. through it all, you observed him drinking in his struggle like a fine wine, with a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. your eyes sparkled with amusement, fully aware of the internal battle raging inside dean. you knew exactly what he craved—what he needed. and yet here you stood, taunting him, daring him to give in to his darkest impulses.

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ dark magic ( witch!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean wasn’t that awfully nice when it came down to witches or anything surrounding the supernatural. everything he stood suddenly disappeared when it came to you, logic fled and instinct reigned. your very existence seemed to weave an enchantment around him, bending his iron will as easily as a whisper bends a candle flame. in your orbit, he became a different man—softer, more open, as if you alone held the key to unlocking a hidden part of his soul. but your influence was not without cost. your magic, steeped in shadow, left a trail of upheaval in their wake. chaos bloomed wherever you tread, a dark garden of your own making. ( not sure i might stick with this plot, but am so hhhng im lazy )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ might say somethin stupid ᵎᵎ

after a long, exhausting hunt, dean heads to a nearby bar to unwind. weighed down by the night's events, he orders a drink and surveys the room. his attention is quickly drawn to a stunning individual sitting a few stools away. intrigued, dean moves closer, captivated by their effortless beauty and presence. deciding to engage, he buys them a drink and leans in, confidently flirting with a playful question about their relationship status, hoping to shift the mood and distract himself from the tension of the hunt.

Sam Winchester: ๑ ︵ bloody date ᵎᵎ

it was catastrophic. sam knew, deep in his bones, what you truly were. he might have chastised himself for harboring feelings for you, convinced he was teetering on the edge of insanity as his heart clenched painfully within his chest at the mere thought of your presence. but fuck, you were worth it right? this date, however, shattered any remaining illusions. it was meant to be an intimate affair—small, meaningful, a cherished memory in the making. well, you sure as hell made it memorable for him to ever forget it. there you stood, fangs sunk deep into your helpless victim, crimson rivulets painting the edges of your mouth like some macabre artwork.

slashers ☆彡

Brahms Heelshire: ୭ ∿ i'll be good ∿

you had reluctantly accepted the nanny position, despite the suspiciously high salary. the isolated manor and eccentric heelshire family raised red flags, but desperation silenced your misgivings. nothing, however, could have prepared you for the absurdity of your charge – a porcelain doll named brahms. initially, you played along with the charade, following the strict rules set by the heelshires. but as days turned to weeks, an unsettling truth emerged. the real brahms was no doll, but a grown man, which in hindsight would be something to be freaked out about but for you it was fine, however the fact that the brahms could be a little too clingy was the problem. simple errands became ordeals. attempts to leave the property triggered tantrums, brahms clinging to you not wanting you to leave him.

Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ touch starved ∿

patrick never considered himself a touch-starved person. in fact, he often thrived in the artificial perfection of his meticulously curated life. he relished the combination of power suits and high-stakes finance, his existence orchestrated with a calculated precision that left no room for vulnerability. but from the moment you entered his life, everything changed. he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, craving your touch in a way that defied his logical mind. in the upscale restaurants you frequented—places with starched tablecloths, crystal stemware, and prices that made most people wince—patrick's behavior shifted noticeably. while he once sat rigidly across from his dining companions, maintaining a respectable distance, with you he couldn't bear even that small separation. he'd guide you to the plush booth seating, sliding in close enough that your thighs touched beneath the table. as you perused the menu, his arm would find its way around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your skin. during the meal, he'd lean in unnecessarily close to murmur observations about the food or other patrons, his breath warm against your ear. as the evenings wore on, patrick found increasingly creative ways to maintain contact. he'd reach across the table to adjust your napkin or brush an imaginary crumb from your cheek. Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ feeling bratty? ∿

patrick felt more on edge as time passed, a tightening coil of frustration that wound ever tighter within him. when the tension reached its boiling point, he reacted instinctively, striking out like a stray cat cornered and threatened, hissing and baring its tiny fangs. in that moment of vulnerability, his anger found an outlet in the nearest target—unfortunately, that target was you. deep down, he recognized his own insufferable behavior; he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. he watched as you scoffed at his provocations or simply ignored his taunts, and each dismissive reaction stoked the flames of his irritation. the more you turned away, the more desperately he sought your attention, despite knowing the fire he was playing with could easily burn him.

misc ⟢

Soldier Boy: 𓂃 ꒰ freak show ꒱

Ben never imagined he'd find himself at the entrance of a peculiar circus, its weathered sign proclaiming "freak show" in faded letters. for weeks, vought's pr team had hounded him relentlessly, insisting that this appearance would be "good for public relations" and "humanize" him in the eyes of the masses. ben had scoffed at first, but their persistence wore him down like water on stone. now, here he was, surrounded by wide-eyed gawkers and the constant buzz of excited whispers. as the show began, ben found himself oddly captivated. each act was more outlandish than the last - contortionists twisting their bodies into impossible shapes, fire-breathers painting the air with flames, and strongmen hefting weights that should have been beyond human capability. but then, as the ringmaster's booming voice announced the next act, the tent fell into a hushed silence. a single spotlight illuminated the center ring, and ben's breath caught in his throat. there you were. the aerialist.

Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ favorite monster ꒱

stiles was well versed when it came down to the supernatural, he read every book, myth, and stories when it came to the supernatural. was well aware of the dangers of ghosts, werewolves, vampires the whole gist, you name it he undoubtedly knows it all. of course, you were a different case, a unique case that even though he knew the dangers about being a vampire he couldn’t for the life of himself get away from you. every late-night conversation and shared secret made it harder for him to keep his distance. as the two of you walked through the forest, discussing everything from pop culture to existentialism, it was at the very instant that your sudden laugh made his heart race. the warmth in your eyes and the way you would brush your hand with his rendered him utterly transfixed. he wondered how it was possible to feel so electrified and safe in the presence of someone who was, by all accounts, a threat. Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ you're ghostface ꒱

stiles didn’t know what to expect when the rumors of a serial killer began circulating in their small town. the gossip, dripping with fear and intrigue, shattered the fragile peace of beacon hills. as he stumbled through the dimly lit alley, the unmistakable glint of a knife illuminated by the flickering light from the nearby streetlamp caught his eye, and as the scene grew clearer, every hope he'd entertained shattered like glass. you, standing over a crumpled figure on the ground, the knife still gleaming in your hand, ghostface mask perched above your head. stiles had known you—i mean, really known you. the fact it was you, who was said killer made his stomach churn. he felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him, leaving him suspended in disbelief.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ bitchy!user ꒱

madison's initial reaction to your caustic demeanor was a blend of irritation and intrigue. it catches her off guard; she's unaccustomed to having her façade challenged so directly. your unwavering stance and refusal to be cowed gnaws at her composure, chipping away at the armor of superiority she's cultivated. yet, beneath her outward indignation, she finds herself grudgingly impressed. your razor-sharp retorts and quick wit present a novel challenge—one that simultaneously infuriates and exhilarates her.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ tobacco lips ꒱

before her death, madison was already dead inside. numb to the world, she craved to feel—anything. she chased oblivion through a haze of flesh, drugs, and alcohol, desperately seeking to drown the echoes of her past. each indulgence was a futile attempt to erase the memories: her mother's absence, her asshole of a father, the relentless scrutiny of the press, and the string of lovers who had taken pieces of her without leaving anything in return. she had found her way to the nearest bar, her face, heavily caked with makeup, felt like a mask weighing her down. her once-pearly teeth, now tobacco-stained, hid behind a sneer. the dress she'd chosen, meant to turn heads, only succeeded in making her look cheap rather than alluring. she navigated the crowded gathering with a practiced arrogance, projecting an aura of superiority she didn't feel. a fresh cigarette dangled from her lips, the filter stained with lipstick—a silent testament to her desperation. her words flowed freely, empty promises spilling from her mouth to the eager ears of men old enough to know better. then, through the haze of smoke and poor decisions, she saw you. beautiful, poised you—the coven's rising star, their future supreme. you stood surrounded by distinguished men, everything madison's admirers lacked. everything madison herself lacked. shame crashed over madison, as darted out, trying to get away from your sight.

might fix some of these but …. probably not anyway! @eppwtf on c.ai 😛

[makeadealwithdean]

all these gifs make me think of are a scenario where you and Sam are together. he's your dom, and he was reluctant to let you separate from him on this case, but you insisted, and it really was more efficient to split up to talk to witnesses. so you do, and Sam calls to tell you what he's found out...and to tell you to get back to the motel, but you're not so keen on getting back yet. so you mouth off a little a lot. a big no-no in Sam's book.

he ducks away from the people he's with for the rest of the conversation:

"I'm not asking. I want you back at the motel, waiting for me by the time I get back, you hear me?"

"Mmm," you hum, pretending to consider his words as if they don't make every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

"If you think I'm playing right now, you are sorely mistaken. Listen to me," he punctuates his words, "if you aren't waiting for me in position when I get back, I will punish you, and it won't be something you'll enjoy. You can bet on that."

You gulp and swallow, nodding, even though you know he can't see you. You say softly, all fight drained by his words, "Yes, sir."

[wildgirllz]

Hey! So, I'm not sure if you still write and take requests, but if you do, could you do a Sam Winchester x reader story, where the two have been friends since they were teens and they had liked each other for quite a while but were too scared to confess until now, when they would have to face Lucifer soon and Sam was scared that he might not get another chance?

Tysm<33

Ofc!! Here you go <3

Sam Winchester x GN!reader

Warnings: I’m such a cornball. Kinda sad/angsty, kissing, Ay y pinche demonios 💀

But now, with Lucifer looming on the horizon, Sam was starting to realize that he might not get another chance. He couldn't bear the thought of facing the end of the world without telling you how he felt.

You were both sitting in the motel room, surrounded by books and research notes. Sam had been reading for hours, trying to find any way to stop Lucifer, while you had been trying to keep him company.

"Sam," you said softly, breaking the silence. "What's going on?"

Sam looked up at you, his expression serious. "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you. Something I've been meaning to say for a long time."

Your heart started pounding in your chest, knowing what was coming. "What is it?"

Sam took a deep breath, his eyes locked on yours. "I love you, Y/N. I always have. And I know that we've been friends for so long, but I can't keep pretending that these feelings aren't real. Especially now, with everything that's happening. I don't want to go into this fight without telling you how I feel."

You were stunned, your heart racing. All these years, you had been waiting for Sam to say those words, and now that he had, you didn't know what to do. You had always loved him too, but you were scared of ruining your friendship.

"Sam, I...I don't know what to say," you stammered, feeling the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "I love you too, but I'm scared. Scared of what this could mean for us, scared of what could happen if we take that step."

Sam reached out and took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "I know it's scary, Y/N. But I can't imagine facing Lucifer without you. And I don't want to regret not telling you how I feel."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love there, and felt yourself melting. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, feeling the sparks fly between you. The kiss was soft and gentle, but it spoke volumes.

"I don't want to regret anything either, Sam," you whispered, pulling back slightly to look at him. "I love you too."

Sam smiled, relief flooding his features. "I'm so glad, Y/N. I don't know what I would do without you."

You both leaned in for another kiss, knowing that there was no turning back now. You were in this together, for better or for worse.

As you broke the kiss, you both looked at each other, the weight of the world still heavy on your shoulders. But you also felt a new sense of hope, a newfound strength in each other.

"We're going to beat Lucifer, Sam," you said firmly, squeezing his hand. "Together."

Sam nodded, determination in his eyes. "Together."

You both turned back to the books and notes, ready to face whatever came next. But now, you had each other, and that was all that mattered.

[prentissluvr]

three seconds — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : light swearing, accidental cuddling, casual mention of marriage between sam and reader (it's just dean teasing tho lol), idiots friends to lovers, kissing, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.2K prompt : sleeping in the same bed, as they’d often do, but one morning waking up cuddling

to be truthful, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up with yours and sam’s limbs entangled with each other’s. it’s just far less common for his hand to be so gloriously attached to your waist or his face to be tucked all sweet and warm into your neck. your own hands are placed in his hair and on his broad shoulder blade.

waking up like this is heaven; first, in the moments before you can process exactly what is happening, and second, once you realize and can bask in the splendor of having him so intimately close and vulnerable with you. then it comes crashing down as you remember that this isn’t quite how it’s supposed to be, and that you’ll never, not for a moment, be able to get this feeling out of your head, your body.

which means every moment after you untangle yourself from him will be full of a pure, undying, taunting want, maybe even need, to have him like that again. such a feeling is a general inconvenience as one considers that sam is your best friend, that he and his brother are just about all you have, and that you’d rather die than lose them to the fact that you’re in love with him. so clearly, it’s better he never knows, it’s just that constantly thinking about cuddling with him tends to lead to you making heart eyes at him or your cheeks flushing hot when he looks at you a moment too long.

then there’s the realization that sam is still asleep, the steady rhythm of his breath tickling your neck is both comforting and terrifying all at once. what if he wakes and jerks away, uncomfortable with your proximity? should you push him away before he even realizes the position you’re in? it’s not as if sam doesn’t enjoy physical affection; he pretends he doesn’t, but you’re convinced that he’s a cuddlebug at heart. maybe that’s an overly cute way of putting it, but you can feel how much he loves hugs, how much he enjoys having his head in your lap when you get a rare movie night. you’re just worried that this is too much, too close for even him.

and yet, you’re feeling selfish, because what if you never get him like this again? so you close your eyes again and just revel in the way it feels to have the tip of his nose pressed to your neck and his forehead against your jaw. his hands on you, so steady and sure in his sleep. his hair, soft between your fingers and the muscle of his back under your palm. his leg, tucked between yours. just the weight of him, pressed against you all solid and real and almost immovable until he wakes.

you hear dean stir a few feet away and you pray he won’t be able to tell you’re not asleep. breath even and eyes still gently closed, you hear dean move about, mumbling to himself. he’s digging around in a bag, pulling something out. then you feel him move closer and you swear he’s hovering at the foot of the bed.

then you hear a click, like that of a camera shutter, and you realize dean’s taken a picture of the two of you like this. pictures of the three of you are rarer, and dean being the one to take it means it’s special. you suppose blackmail is special in its own way and beg to no one that dean didn’t hear your breath hitch as you realize this moment is now immortalized by a picture that dean’ll print out someday and shove in your faces to make fun.

then dean’s mumbling to himself again, now close and loud enough for you to make out his words. “these two,” he sighs, tone practically chastising as if he sees something glaringly obvious, but the both of you can’t seem to quite get there. “i swear, the heart eyes from across the room, the longing gazes. god, they’ll be the death of me.” 

he really, truly thinks you’re asleep. he talks like this when he doesn’t know you can hear him. though usually not about you and sam, not like this. “they’re both such idiots. idiots in love,” he laughs humorlessly to himself, then turns away, stuffing the camera back in the bag he dug it out from. “maybe i should lock them in a closet,” he considers, voice so low you can barely catch his words, “see who caves first. then they’ll probably only thank me for that or the puke-inducingly cute photo once they’re married, those ungrateful asses. kids these days.” he lets out a huff of breath as he heads to the bathroom, seemingly done with his ranting about … about what? you and sam being in love with each other? what the hell was he saying, married? you and sam? you have to hold back from letting out a lovesick sigh.

you’re so caught up turning dean’s words over in your mind that only sam’s hand lightly squeezing your side brings you back to the present. your eyes shoot open and you pull your hand out of his hair. sam parts from you, barely. how long has he been awake? you’re almost too scared to look at sam, who hasn’t even attempted to untangle himself from you. he’s still got his hand on your waist and his leg tucked between yours and your eyes catch his without you meaning to. it’s always like that; your eyes will wander until they find his face, every time. it’s habit, instinct, unavoidable.

he looks at you long, and something about his pretty eyes turned green from the morning light and the color of the sheets keeps you holding his gaze, taking him in as he does you.

when sam finally speaks, his voice is hushed, but there’s this barely contained joy to it, begging to be released. “think we should save him the trouble?” the playfulness in his voice tugs at the corner of your lips. when he sounds happy, you can’t help but feel that way.

“of?” you ask, thinking you know what he means, but wanting to be sure.

“of locking us in a closet. sounds like a bit of a hassle, if you ask me,” he smiles at you, and his words plus the sight of his dimples has got you grinning without restraint. you wonder again how long sam was awake, but completely without apprehension this time. all the two of you needed was a few playful words exchanged, and now you know. though you wouldn’t have without dean’s unwittingly overheard grumbles, so you supposed you will have to thank him after all.

“i don’t know,” you say with a false air of careful thinking, “seems like it could be fun, y’know? it’s been too long since we’ve played a good trick on dean, don’t you think?”

sam doesn’t have an answer for that because he’s been too busy staring at the way your lips move, still pulled into a smile as you talk. you take another good look at him and wonder, how in the world did i miss it? the way he looks at me?

if he doesn’t kiss you within three seconds flat, you’ll do it yourself. it takes him those three seconds exactly, and you move in such synch it’s possible that your lips meet right in the perfect middle of the barely-there space between you.

[green-typewriterz]

Some hurt/comfort with sam please?

When the Sun Hits

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

summary: set in 2001, you and Sam finally get the chance to go to prom together

Ask: Some hurt/comfort with sam please?

Warnings: injury, mention of blood, sam is pining and awkward

Author Notes: thank you for this ask my love! Sorry for disappearing for so long, i got a new hyperfix im sure many of you can understand! Also I took what I had an ran with it so sorry if this wasn’t what you imagined!

word count: 2135

SOMETIME IN 2001 - FEBRUARY

Sam sat across the room from you, his chair far in the back and to the left whereas you sat to the front…you had pulled the short straw. You found yourself turning around every now and then, locking eyes across the room, trying to get him to laugh. He was in one of his bad moods today, hair in front of his eyes and hood up. You and Dean had pretty much accepted the fact that you’d be moving around alot, your families working together as hunters but Sam wasn’t as happy about it. He didn’t want to leave again.

“Y/N,” the teacher began and you spun back around, eyes wide. “Eyes on the front please, Sam doesn’t need you distracting him.” You nodded and got back to work, though you could feel Sam’s gaze burning on the back of your head.

You had known Sam for as long as you could remember, the two of you used to share toys while your parents were out hunting with John. He was always a shy kid, but this year seemed to be the worst of it. Maybe he was going through a phase.

Class finally ended and you packed up your books before heading to the back of the class, kneeling down and leaning against Sam’s desk. He looked up and smiled, muttering a quiet, “hi.” you grinned and grabbed his bag, watching as he pushed the hair away from his eyes (it had been longer than usual lately).

“Are you still upset about moving again?” You asked, walking alongside him, his hand gently holding yours. Sam sighed, shaking his head as you made your way out of the school and toward the same motel you had been staying for the past few months.

He ran his spare hand through his hair. “It’s just…we’ve just got comfortable here. I’ve actually made friends that aren’t you or Dean. I just wish we never-.” He stopped himself short. It was a stupid thing to wish.

“I know,” You replied. He wished his family weren’t hunters. You both stopped in front of his door, staring at each other silently. It wouldn’t be long before Dean got back and started his relentless teasing, so with one final goodbye, you went your separate ways.

That evening was wholly uneventful, an hour or two of homework, some research for your dad then the sweet and familiar feeling of zoning out while listening to Deftones on your hard motel bed. ‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.’ had just faded out when there was a gentle knock on the door, one you recognised. You opened the door and took in the smiling sight of your best friend. He was wearing an oversized tee with a blue dog on it that you had given him and a pair of pyjama bottoms. He looked much more comfortable than he felt.

Sam had been building up his courage since the beginning of the year and, knowing the both of you would still be on the case when it rolled around, he wanted to ask you to prom. Even if it were just as a friend.

“Hey Sammy,” you smiled and stepped to the side to let him in, noticing how he was fiddling with the strings of his pyjamas. He was nervous. “You ok?” It was a simple question, but from the look on his face you would’ve assumed you had asked him to marry you.

He laughed slightly and scratched the back of his neck, replying, “all good, just wanted to come chat!” He smiled awkwardly. God, he thought, he was already blushing. He sat across from you, slightly wet hair brushed to the side and fluttering eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his nerves but pressed play on your music again, turning the volume down so ‘when the sun hits’ could gently sit underneath your conversation.

“Y’know,” he began, hands fidgeting, “We’re gonna be in Oregon until spring, which means we’ll actually graduate this time.” he spoke, voice soft and wavering. “So um-”

He cut himself off, not knowing how to ask. He had wanted to do something nicer, get you flowers or something, but it hadn’t exactly gone to plan (that and Dean had told him to do it now before he got too nervous). You put your hand on his to stop it from shaking and urged him to keep talking and he smiled so softly you could’ve imagined it.

He breathed out before speaking again, “I was thinking we could go to prom? Together?” You went still. That’s what he had been nervous about.

“As friends?”

He seemed to shrink. “Uhm, yeah, if that’s what you’d want.” Sam was downtrodden, though he had expected you to take it this way, it still stung.

You smiled gently. “I’d love to go with you, but maybe not as just…friends.”

He looked up, confused for a moment. You had said yes. Blush bit at his ears as he fought the urge to get up and physically jump for joy. “I’d like that.” He managed to get out before standing again, you joining him by the door.

“I should probably head back, dad will be wondering where I am.” Though you both knew the statement wasn’t true at all, you agreed and let him walk out the door.

“Sam.”

He spun back around on his heel and you stepped closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. To him, it felt so gentle, like the breeze gently brushing his face, but it still brought up a blush so aggressive it felt like he was on fire.

SOMETIME IN 2001 - PROM

It was a few weeks before graduation, which meant it was prom night. You were sat in your motel room, in the nicest outfit you could find for cheap, waiting for Sam to finish getting ready. Since asking you to prom, the two of you had spent every waking moment together though you weren’t, as Dean would say, official yet (despite being only a label away from it).

Eventually, he walked out of the bathroom in a simple navy suit, one that matched your own outfit almost perfectly. You had both found them by chance in separate thrift stores and found yourself extremely lucky when they not only fit, but matched. “You look so handsome.” you said as he fiddled with his tie, trying to get it to sit right. Eventually, he gave up and gave you a look of desperation, asking you to do it for him with his eyes alone.

His gaze never left you as you fixed the tie, gentle hands righting the knot. Sam had planned tonight out to a tee: Dean was going to drive the both of you in their dad’s impala and then he’d get permission to take three (which was masterfully negotiated down from ten by Sam) photos. Then, he’d link his arm in yours like a gentleman and walk you into the gym. From there, his dancing skills took charge.

Each part of the plan went well and it was the middle of the night before either of you took a break to get a drink. There was a tired flush on both of your faces and a glint in Sam’s eyes you hadn’t seen since you were young. It was there, the two of you were sat when ‘your song’ came on. The song Sam had asked you to prom with (though it was more of a coincidence).

The boy took your hand gently and led you to the dancefloor again, his hands finding a place on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and swayed gently, humming along to the song and staring into Sam’s eyes. The night was perfect.

Or would’ve been.

There was an impossibly loud crash and both you and Sam stared at each other in a split-second of recognition before the gymnasium went dark. Screams erupted from the crowd but the two of you stayed calm, quickly retrieving your respective silver blades that John had forced you to keep that night. Sam was furious. John had promised he would chase the monster in the opposite direction. The man had lied. In the panic, the two of you had been separated and you knew better than to call out for him in the dark school corridor.

You had prepared for this, trained. But you had never actually fought a monster before. Your hands shook from fear and tears glistened on your cheeks as you gingerly made your way down the hall. Your only lightsource was the large, dirty skylight that sat at the far end of the hallway and you found yourself glad - for the first time ever - that it was a full moon. Light trickled through the glass, fragmenting when a crack or some growing mould got in its path.

There was a growl from behind you and you stiffened, chills running down your spine. You turned slowly, eyes shut tight. You weren’t meant to be scared, you had been taught to not be afraid - so why couldn’t you find it in you to be brave. Your eyes opened and locked with the werewolf that was a mere centimetre from you now.

You gripped the blade with a sweaty palm and shoved it forward, piercing through the monster’s heart, though not before it could bring its claws down across your face. You both cried out and fell to the ground, you clutching your face and the werewolf growing still. “Y/N!” Sam called out as he sprinted over. Within a second, his hand was under your head and he was cradling you close to him.

Sam was hurt too, grazes littering his skin and a cut pulling at his lip - though he found that unimportant compared to the overwhelming amount of blood that seeped from your face.

“You’re ok.” He whispered, “You’ll be ok.”

THAT EVENING

You leaned against Sam as he got the first aid kit ready, having previously cleaned his own injuries as quickly as he could. Tears mixed with the blood on your face and Sam had to fight not to cry too, he hated seeing you hurt. “This is going to hurt, Y/n/n,” He began, eyes wrought with sympathy and a dusting of tears, “I’m so sorry.” he whispered and you nodded, preparing yourself. He moved his spare hand to the least injured part of your cheek for both control and comfort then gently let the alcohol John had provided trickle over your injuries.

You let your hand rest on his forearm, his mint breath fanning your face as you held in your tears with sharp breaths. “I killed them.” You whispered and Sam looked at you in empathy. He knew exactly how you felt. He didn’t want to shush you, (he didn’t know why people did that) he knew you needed to cry - but at the same time he didn’t want you to feel guilty.

“He was going to kill you. You did the right thing.”

You sighed, breathing shaky from the tears that stuck in your throat. “It doesn’t feel like that.” Sam stopped what he was doing and pulled away, eyes meeting yours.

He smiled gently. “You saved so many people, Y/n. no one in there would have been as brave as you.” Sam whispered and you nodded, finally finding it in yourself to agree with him. He gave you a break from cleaning the injury for a while and you got a better chance to look at him.

There were rips in his tux, some tinged with deep red stains and his previously white shirt was littered with mud stains. Cuts littered his arms and face while a particularly vicious bruise was slowly forming on his jawline. Despite all of this, he still looked handsome - you found it difficult to look away.

He knew what he was doing well enough, sanitise everything, clean the wound and then pray you didn’t need stitches - still, he couldn’t stop the anxiety from filling his mind. Sam was gentle, it was just who he was. Soft, caring hands worked quickly and lovingly while he muttered words of comfort. You were incredibly lucky, the wound was mostly superficial.

Both you and Sam sighed in relief as he placed the butterfly closure tape to each major point of the scratch mark. “See,” he whispered, “Told you you’d be ok.”

You smiled, careful not to tug at the cuts and leaned in, wrapping your arms around him. Sam’s hands found a home in your hair and he gently ran his hands through it as he sighed in comfort. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/n/n.” he whispered, voice strong, honest. You found it easy to believe him.

[sammyluvr]

SUPERNATURAL M.LIST all works are gender neutral, reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated !! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI WITH MY NSFW CONTENT. YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED !!! all nsfw fics are clearly labeled MDNI, this applies to ageless blogs. r for romantic, p for platonic ! ofc all nsfw is romantic !!!

SAM WINCHESTER DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ something about being close | 9.5K, angst, fluff, r ⟢ makes you wonder | 5.2K, fluff, r ↳ ⟢ part two : now you know | 6.8K, fluff, hurt/comfort ⟢ better than a sight for sore eyes | 1K, suggestive, MDNI ⟢ take my breath away | 13.7K, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, r ⟢ give and take | 0.7K, fluff, r ⟢ warm brown jacket | 1.3K, fluff, r ⟢ you’d dance with me? | 1.4K, fluff, r ⟢ three seconds | 1.2K, fluff, r ⟢ literary parallels | 3.6K, light angst, fluff, r ↳ ⟢ part two | coming soon … ⟢ this is real, it’s right | 3K, hurt/comfort, r ⟢ my boy only breaks his favorite toys | 10.6K, angst, r ⟢ forget-me-nots | 5.6K, fluff, r ⟢ but daddy i love him | 11.3K, light angst, fluff, r ⟢ some other time | 1.1K, fluff, r ⟢ just an observation | 1.3K, fluff, r ⟢ hold me, it’s enough | 1.6K, hurt/comfort, r ⟢ breathe, baby | 4.1K, smut, fluff, MDNI ⟢ only got eyes for you | 2.7K, fluff, r ⟢ dead eyes | 2.4K, hurt/comfort, r ⟢ abstract (psychopomp) | 1.9K, hurt/comfort, angst, r ⟢ love you again | 2K, fluff, hurt/comfort, r ⟢ motel room, 10:00 p.m. | 545, fluff, hurt comfort, r ⟢ book shop, 12:00 p.m. | 515, fluff, r ⟢ motel shower, 12:00 a.m. |629, hurt/comfort, r ⟢ cabin, 3:17 a.m. | 658, hurt/comfort, r ⟢ campus library, 7:00 a.m. | 658, fluff, r ⟢ the impala, 4:00 p.m. | 608, fluff, comfort, p ⟢ in the woods somewhere | coming soon …

HEADCANONS ⟢ random boyfriend hcs | 1.6K , fluff, r ⟢ nsfw boyfriend hcs | 1.6K, suggestive/smut, MDNI ⟢ pirate!au | 1.1K, fluff, light angst, r ⟢ with adhd!s/o | 0.8K, fluff, r ⟢ with talkative!s/o | 0.7K, fluff, r ⟢ fake-dating!au | 1K, fluff, r

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DEAN WINCHESTER DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ the language of love isn’t dead | 2.4K, fluff, light angst, r ⟢ flower shop, 11:00 a.m. | 644, fluff, r ⟢ gas station, 3:04 a.m. | 615, hurt/comfort, p

HEADCANONS ⟢ best friend!dean | 1K , fluff, p

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BOTH DRABBLES / ONESHOTS (all platonic) ⟢sorry won’t cut it | 4K , angst , hurt/comfort ↳ ⟢ sorry won’t cut it (rewrite) | 4.1K, angst, hurt/comfort

HEADCANONS (all separate) … nothing yet !

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RUBY DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ abandoned church, 5:30 a.m. | 540, fluff, r

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

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CHARLIE BRADBURY DRABBLES / ONESHOTS … nothing yet !

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

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JO HARVELLE DRABBLES / ONESHOTS … nothing yet !

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

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© HONEYLUVSAM 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. COPYING, TRANSLATING, AND REPOSTING IS PROHIBITED.

[lovelywriting666]

Flufftober Petnames ♥️ -Sam Winchester

Warnings : None 😊

Word Count: I never know

Sam Winchester x Gn!Reader

I sit in the bunker library curled up into myself on one of the wooden chairs in the library, I’m hunched over a lore book Ive been reading, annotating, and taking notes. I have my own notebook to record my findings in, as I scribble down notes I hear.

“Sweetheart?” This little pet name makes my head pop up from my notebook and I see Sam standing there holding a coffee carrier with 3 coffees in it and a small bag he’s holding to his side. I blush a little out of embarrassment, ok, maybe Ive been up since 5 taking notes and reading, I just had the feeling to do something, it’s something I’d normally not do. Being completely honest but today just feels like one of those weird days. Sam lets out a soft chuckle.

“Love bug, how long have you been up? I know you weren’t in bed when I woke up but I thought you went to the bathroom” Sam says sheepishly like he did something wrong for not knowing. My eyes go a little wide being able to read the expression on his face and I immediately say.

“Oh no Sammy, baby, it’s really ok!” with an apocalyptic look on my face as to say Im sorry for not being in bed. Sam nods his head and lets out another airy chuckle.

“It’s alright hun, anyways, I got coffee and breakfast” Sam says motioning to the coffees in one hand and the bag in his other and a smile shows on my face and I quickly get up and walk over to Sam and grab the coffees from him and walk them over to the main table in the library and set them down. Sam does the same and I go back to my seat and I look up at Sam with a smile and then I smirk.

“Hun?” I question with a giggle and Sam’s cheeks get a little pink and he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I- well, y’know….it’s just like a cute pet name…right?” Sam questions like he’s never been in a relationship before which makes me giggle even more.

“It really fine babe, I love you” I say sweetly reaching for the small bag of breakfast foods. Sam smiles softly.

“I love you to babe” Sam says repeating the pet name that i just said which makes me smirk as Sam passes me the bag of food and I start looking through it and yell

“Dean! Breakfast and Coffee! Get out of bed numb nut!” this makes Sam laugh hard and sit down in the chair next to me as I giggle and hear Dean’s loud tired groan come from his room.

Fin. ♥️

An: Hey guys! So Im probably gonna post 2 more in the next few hours so I can catch up also if you want to use our flufftober prompt list you can! So get ready for Cas and Danny!

[arjwrites]

Close Behind- Sam Winchester x GN!Reader

Summary: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Sam- and that scares the hell out of him. Based on the song “Close Behind” by Noah Kahan. 

Warnings: Very very angst heavy. A poor, poor, messed up Sammy. Very slight reference to suicide. No uses of Y/N, completely gn

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Got the idea for this fic, sat down to write it, and posted it all in one sitting. This idea hurt my soul so bad that I had to share it with you all. I'll make sure to get some happy Sammy fluff in the works very soon because I literally broke my own heart writing this :'( PLEASE PLEASE listen to the song before or while reading this. If you don't already know it, you're welcome. Such a beautiful song and so Winchester coded, in my humble opinion. I hope you enjoy <3

-

I think I found a fear of mine

That you might love for no reason

You know I worry only luck brought me to you

Sam’s favorite sound in the world was born out of a successful hunt. It was a quiet hum, comprised of the steady rumble of the Impala’s engine, the subtle rhythm of Dean’s more subdued playlist, and the soft breaths that escaped his love’s sleeping lips. Over the years, he had begun to associate this sound with momentary comfort and safety- threats eliminated, civilians saved, and his most important people alive and well. It was the sound of a job well done and the only thing that could pull his system out of fight-or-flight for a short while. On this particular night, Bobby had joined the team for the hunt, so Sam had conceded the passenger seat to him and happily slipped into the back to share space and warmth with you. It didn’t take the lonely highway long to lull you into a peaceful sleep, and for Sam’s mind to drag itself into a million directions. The rear seat was a rare vantage point for him, the unfamiliar setting disrupting the routine settlement of his thoughts and stirring them to the surface like sediment rising from the bottom of a lake. 

Most people would say that their beloved was their peace, the one who kept them grounded and made them feel like everything would be okay. For Sam, this was partially true. You were the tether that anchored him to reality, but reality was scary. Simply knowing the name Sam Winchester put you in the line of fire, and that ate away at his conscience every single day. He knew he was so lucky to have you, but sometimes he wondered about the nature of luck’s intentions. When, in the past, had luck been truly on his side? He feared that was all that tied your heart to him- a fleeting, miraculous moment of luck that would expire any moment and pluck you out of his clutches. Someone to heal his soul and repair his damaged pieces, only so it would hurt even more when life stole you away and broke him back apart. 

I'm half awake most of the time

It's just the timing of the seasons

So you know I worry that you're all I have to lose

These were the thoughts that Sam fought to keep at bay as best he could, but his mind was weary and his fears knew his every weakness. It was hard to ignore these worries when they were self created- his very demise was an inside job. You were the only easy thing in his life, a flickering candle in a dark, damp space- bright, and warm, and magnetically inviting. But Sam felt that when he got too close, when he reached out to touch you and his fingers lingered too long, he would burn himself and extinguish your flame in the process.

This didn’t stop him from loving you, and loving you well, but it made the act a burden. Caring for you was the hardest thing he had ever done. It was always his job to take care of those around him, but for everyone else he protected, he could breathe easy once the bodies hit the floor. For you, there was no safe. There was never an end to the threats that faced you, because there was never an end to the threats that faced him. And because of this, Sam Winchester never felt worthy of you. He could never truly protect you. The very act of loving him was a death sentence, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to free you from it. 

And I should change this way of thinking

That all my fears are facts of life

But I could die tomorrow, you'd be close behind

I hate that you think of yourself that way, you would tell him. Every day I think how lucky I am to love, and to be loved by, you. You couldn’t keep me away if you tried. I’ve never felt safer than I do with you. Sam recognized the arsenal of responses you had developed to address his concerns- no worry he threw your way was ever left unanswered. But Sam was stubborn. His fears were informed by everything he had ever known, every loss he had ever faced. His life had been an uphill battle, and try as you might, there was never rest in a soldier’s mind. And for Sam, there was no way to win the war. Because if he lost you, he would lose everything. And if he died to protect you, there would be no one left to keep you safe. So all he could do was fight as hard as he could around the clock, destroying himself for the sake of your preservation. 

I live my life in years to come

To prepare myself for sorrow

So I won't worry when I crumble at your feet

Losing you was always in the back of Sam’s mind. Sometimes when he let his mind wander too far, he would try to make plans for what he would do, how he would handle it, but he could never quite wrap his head around a desire to live even a minute longer than you. These were the thoughts that plagued his mind when he would roll over to hold you a little tighter at night. He would stir and you would wake, whispering reassurances that he would never accept. Still, it was nice to hold you close. It was a reminder that you were still here, that he could savor you for as many minutes as he was blessed with. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Sam to break down in front of you. It was a heavy load he carried, and you told him time and time again to let you into his heart and mind. You do so much to care for me, Sam. Let me care for you. So every so often, when things got so dark that he lost his way, you were the one to try to coax him back to the light. 

It's something sinister to love

Without regard for dear Tomorrow

To search for worry is to love without deceit

Dean would tell him he needed to stop worrying so much, that he was ruining the love he had right in front of him by not letting himself enjoy it. Live in the moment, he’d say. Enjoy what you have right now. But that was never an option for Sam. If he let his guard down, if he let himself become distracted, weak, he could lose you. It was because he truly loved you that he piled the world atop his shoulders. It was all he felt he could do to earn the right to be loved by you. Dean would shake his head, but he knew deep down that there was nothing he could do to change his brother’s line of thinking. As long as there were monsters to hunt, there would be danger. And as long as there was danger, Sam would throw himself in the line of fire to keep you safe- whether the enemy was a ghost, a demon, or his own mind. 

So I fill my days with thinking

Though, I'm years from my true time

I could die tomorrow, you'd be close behind

Close behind. 

Hey, hey. Sam. It’s okay, breathe with me. 

Sam, I know you still worry, but we haven’t hunted for years now. There’s no more danger. 

You and me? We’re safe and sound. You can breathe easy, you can relax. 

I’m not going anywhere. 

Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t still think about losing you every day. Though you had been out of the hunting game for years, though the world had found a new peace and many of the threats had been eliminated, the worry was too far engrained into his mind. He tried to hide it from you because there was nothing you could do to help. This was a burden Sam knew he would carry for the rest of his life. His eyes would always dart around a new room for escape routes. He would always carry holy water in case he got suspicious. He would skim through old lore books in secret to keep his knowledge sharp. He still slept with his gun in his nightstand, kept as far away from him as he could bear, out of fear that you would notice its presence and recognize his fear. But you already knew all of these things. You were so attuned to everything that weighed heavy on Sam’s heart- this had always been your own burden to carry. 

I can’t wait to grow old with you, you’d hum, running your fingers through his hair or tracing circles on his forearm. Sam would nod, he would smile, he would humor you as you chatted about marriage and kids and retirement and everything he knew you deserved. You two built a beautiful, normal life together- dinner dates and romantic vacations and even a big white wedding one day. But even as he stood at the altar and watched you walk down the aisle, there was a pistol tucked into his waistband of his tux. When you moved into your first home, he would sneak out of your room in the middle of the night to stencil warding symbols underneath the paint you’d picked out for the living room. And when you were setting up the nursery before bringing home your first child… 

Sam would grow old with you, but his heart would never grow any less weary. 

[sincerelylea]

Neither of these fall under Fluff/Angst really, but I would be tickled to see what you do for either one:

"Anything You Can Do" from Annie Get Your Gun + Dean?

Or

"The Other Side" from The Greatest Showman + Sam?

this prompt was a test at trying to connect the greatest showman to supernatural which in an of itself is a great feat i would say. this was fun to write and to ponder over so i went with this idea i’ve been thinking of for some weeks now, almost like a sneak peak into this universe of angel blood reader vs demon blood sam in a way. 

thank you for the request, i hope to see some more in the inbox soon. my requests are indeed open, right now i’m writing song+character requests from supernatural so yeah, drop em if you want. 

sam winchester. you can do like me.

leaving nebraska meant leaving behind the childhood self and living now. there, in that small town, laid your childhood bedroom, the memories of your aunt at the stove making velveeta, and the sound of her voice as she sang to an old stereo cassette of bob dylan and johnny cash. there was much to leave behind, some which you held onto tightly as you pressed the gas and escaped state borders.

but that version of self was naive. hadn’t yet learned the knowledge of what you do now, and lived under the roof of a lifetime hunter and hadn’t a single idea of even what that was. 

she was cremated now. joshua took over the bar when you said you were leaving. sold the house too so you could live off the funds for a while. 

sometimes you got an odd craving you couldn’t sastiate. one you couldn’t define or put a name to, but one that would tear you up inside and leave you thinking of only that.

now you understand it was the power of micheal within you. 

and for the past few weeks you’d been pushing the pavement to cross state borders with two brother’s on your tail that you hoped you manage to shake off this time. 

you learned about them before your permanent departure from nebraska. one of the regulars in the bar reminded you of the name winchester, one you knew was famous in the hunter’s world. your heart fell to the pit of your stomach at the mention; living as a hunter on your own felt like you were a newborn on shaky wobbly knees, you weren’t ready to start running at the first taste of freedom. 

the regular hadn’t a clue as to why they were chasing you, and you didn’t hear much about them either, but you didn’t wanna find out. 

so now you’re in a motel in indiana after 17 hours of driving across country; while exhaustion didn’t quite match the sensation you were feeling, you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep anyway. the idea of two men busting your door down kept your eyes wide and your hands shaky with anxiety. 

the clock ticked on the wall too loud. you removed it’s batteries and laid back down. but then the silence ate at your bones a little too much and you turn on the radio to the alarm clock to your left real quiet so you could listen out for the sound of cars. 

you think to your aunt. wonder if she’d ever been put in a situation like this. the hunter world was messy so you considered a yes. but she was strong and different - peaceful in her power like she knew how to wield it. you hadn’t the opportunity to ask her knowledge of the winchester before she died, but you imagine if she grew up into the life and owned a primarily hunter populated bar that she must have. maybe you’d ask joshua if you ever planned on returning. that is if the winchester’s didn’t kill you first. 

and that was a question you’d ask yourself nearly every passing minute over the sound of your ipod on the radio. what exactly did they want? what did they know. how did they know. what did they plan to do with that knowledge. 

you’d have to keep running. 

you fall asleep to a fleetwood mac song on the radio. 

and wake up to your name being called. 

your eyes shoot open before your body makes any other sign of moving. wide eyed. with two bodies standing behind you as you curled on the mattress of your motel room. even blinking felt like it was too loud, and you wondered if they could hear the sound of your heart just hammering against your ribs. your breathing slows, it feels too loud to breathe as if you haven’t been caught already. 

“we know you’re awake.”

you push an arm under you to sit up, back still turned to the boys. you ponder the possibility of them holding weapons to you, so you make no sudden movements. 

you turn over slowly, sitting in the bed now instead of laying down. the room is cold from the door being opened only a second ago. you raise your eye line to the winchester’s.

both tall. the one with shorter hair has a gun in hand though not pointed to you. the taller one has a soft brow - he was good cop. they have cut eyes on you. 

“we don’t want to hurt you.”

“why have you been following me.” the question you’ve wondering yourself for weeks now. 

“i’m sam,” he thumbs to the one holding the gun. “this is dean.” 

“you already know why we’ve been following you.” the shorter one says. 

“what do you want with me then.” it’s like your spirit has wilted. they can see the heaviness under your eyes and the minimal acts of comfort you enact on yourself to soothe the anxiety. 

“we know about micheal.” sam breaks the ice, and that familiar hot feeling washes over your skin every time you hear the mention of micheal’s name. almost like he was watching you, like he was in the room with you. 

“it wasn’t my choice.” 

“it wasn’t mine either.”

you hadn’t realized your eyes had fallen but you meet sam’s gaze again with a mended brow and a look of confusion. had this happened to him too?

“not with micheal but,,, a demon.” 

your expression falters and you adjust your sitting on the bed. “you have demon blood in you?” it’s a whisper almost. 

he nods, you see he doesn’t like talking about it. and dean has this tense jaw and fixed tough expression. 

“we wanted to find you. we have no clue if micheal has done this to others and with the apocalypse coming,”

“dean is micheal’s vessel for the apocalypse.” 

“way to keep it under wraps hot shot.” dean tucks his gun away in his jacket and sam asks a defensive ‘what?’

“if you guys were following me in hopes of some kind of connection between me and micheal and dean being his supposed vessel, i have nothing for you. i don’t know why this happened to me or why i was chosen. i do know that i don’t like it. angel’s have egos and we’re like their pawns.”

“it’s only them.” a third voice, now behind you as you face the boys in front of you. you whip your head around to find a dark haired man in a tan trench coat, rounding your vision to stand closer. 

“you’re an angel.” 

in your sights you see the heavenly glow only a person with angel blood could see. a fraction of his true form as it seeps from his vessel. he was heavenly - the energy soothing and enough almost to bring tears to your eyes as you watch him with wonder. 

“this is castiel, he is an angel and he’s helping us. we want-” sam pauses, you look up at him and for a split second he can see that blue glow in your eyes. “we want to help you. we want to help each other. we need a way to win the apocalypse.”

you fold your legs under the cover of the duvet, teeth finding the inside of your cheek. 

you were raised to fight - that much you were comfortable with in terms of skill. hunting was different. a life on the road seemed fine enough, you always wanted to see the states and the world outside of nebraska but, the idea of taking on the apocalypse with limited knowledge on what laid dormant inside you for so long, seemed far fetched and quite frankly impossible. 

“guys,” your hand finds your brow. “i can fight. that much i know. what i don’t know is why i was chosen or what even i could do with whatever is inside me.”

“we have an angel.” dean speaks up. 

you look from him to castiel who has little expression beside the fact that he appears tired as ever. the apocalypse probably has done more on him than you realize. 

“come with us. leave this behind for now, you are more powerful than you realize.” when sam spoke it felt like something was coming through him to do so. like emotion was pouring from him and he so badly wanted you to believe him, to trust them. to fight in this war with the prospect of winning. he had hope in him, one you sometimes saw in yourself. 

“we don’t ask people to join us.” dean speaks up next to him. his gaze is cut, face hardened. “we could use the help.” he nods as if the words were hard to say. he wasn’t the type to let people in. in many ways he was an open book an others he was shut and locked so tight. this much have been hard for them. this much you could understand and reason with. 

you look between all three of them for a moment before clearing your throat. “alright then.”

“where do we begin.”