#supernatural prompts

[prompts-in-a-barrel]

"What makes you think I give a single shit about you?"

"You hallucinating my ghost for the past half a year is a pretty big clue. C'mon, what's the harm in admitting you love me? It's not like I can die again."

[thedramaticwriter1]

Stitch 'em up

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: An injured Dean comes back from a hunt.

Character count: 2.7k+

Warnings: Blood, a snarky, injured dean

A/N: Didn’t mean to take so long in between posts, sorry not sorry lol

—————————————————————————————————

You sit on the dinning room chair with a cold beer sat in front of you, bouncing your leg up and down. Dean had called about an hour ago to tell you that his hunt was finished and he would be on his way home. The tone in his voice was tight and it had caused your stomach to sour. 

“How bad was it?” You had asked over the phone the second he was done talking.

“Piece of pie, sweetheart. As usual” He replied and you heard him grunt in pain as he attempted to lower himself into the front seat of the Impala. 

“Piece of pie my ass, Dean. I can basically hear how hurt you are over the phone” you replied, your grip on your phone tightening as irritation and worry coursed through you. He had told you to take a break on this hunt and relax at home, he could handle it himself. As usual, he was wrong.

“Hmm a piece of pie and your ass? Count me in” his voice dropping an octave at the suggestion, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“Not now Winchester. Just get home so I can deal with you” and with that you hung up the phone. 

Another hour you had been waiting for him since that phone call, beer untouched in front of you, starring at the bunker door waiting for him to stride on in. It felt like every minute dragged into a small eternity, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Ages passed by before you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the opening and shutting of its door. 

If you hadn’t known he was hurt before, you knew it now. It took him a solid 10 minutes to walk from the impala to the bunkers’ entrance, normally a journey that lasted a couple of seconds. 

You watched as he slowly opened the door, hope in his features that maybe you had gone to bed already and he could get his ass chewed out tomorrow morning. Unfortunately for him, he’d get it right now. 

His gaze searched the room until he spotted you sitting on the dinning room chair, his whole body slumping in defeat. Like a thief caught in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye, knowing exactly what he would see. 

Worry. Frustration. Fear. Anger. All of which had an equal grip on your mind at the moment.

“What happened?” You asked, not moving from your spot on the chair and not sugar coating this conversation. 

The instant he heard your tone he knew he was in big trouble, and what does someone in trouble do? They butter up. 

“Sweetheart, have I told you lately how beautiful I think you are?” He responded sweetly, attempting to bat his eye lashes at you while simultaneously trying to hide that he was holding one hand to his obviously injured left side. 

“Dean…” you responded while slowly rising up from your chair. Your voice was low and lethal, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. 

“Seriously, baby. You're the most beautiful woman on the planet..” he says as he smiles at you while attempting to straighten his hunched form. Still he’s trying to cover up his injuries, even though they are plain as day to you. 

“Winchester…” you fling the name at him, half way to him. Already you can see red seeping around where his hand is pressed to his side. Your eyes go wide as you realize he’s still bleeding from an injury he received over two hours ago. 

“Honestly Y/N, I’m the luckiest man al-“ is all he gets out as he attempts to take a step in the direction of the the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom in an attempt to escape your anger and doubles over as his legs give out from under him. 

“Dean!” You yell as you rush towards him, close enough that you're able to catch him under his arms right before he hits the ground fully. 

“Alive” he squeaks out pathetically while still trying to smile up at you. Knees on the ground and still trying to flirt his way his out of this. 

Ridiculous. You bend down so you're able to reposition his arm to hang around your shoulders. 

“Do you think you can walk towards the bathroom?” You question as you try to gauge how injured he really is. 

“Let’s try the kitchen instead” he grunts out. This close to him, you’re able to see that he has no visible wounds on his face, but you wince when you notice his lips are a shade lighter than they normally are. 

“Alright then, on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three…” you haul up as much of his weight as you can onto your own body and you both stand up straight. You stand there for a few seconds hoping he can get his bearings and won’t pass out on you. After you're confident he can make the small journey to the kitchen, you start walking. Slowly, step by step, you two head for the kitchen, you leading the way incase you need to catch him if his legs give out again. 

“I’m guessing you're not gonna let this one slide, huh baby?” He says as you cross the threshold of the kitchen, almost to the table sitting in the middle of the room. 

“Pfft, you’ll be luckily if I ever let you hunt again” you respond. Only half joking, but you’ll deal with that later. “I’m gonna sit you down on that chair okay?” You tell him as you near it. 

“Sitting sounds good right now” he responds, wincing with each step you guys take. You finally reach the chair and you gently help him lower himself onto the seat. You move around slowly so that you're standing in front of him, still holding onto his shoulders to steady him. After some time, once you know he’s stable enough on his own, you turn towards the hallway and make a beeline to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. It became a habit of yours to always have it stocked with the essentials, even going as far as having Sam create a fake hospital personnel ID for you so you could make your way into the local hospital and steal some of the supplies, knowing you’d use them eventually. 

Rummaging though the cabinets, you finally locate the kit and rush back to the kitchen. Turning the corner, you see Dean resting his head on the table, his hand still holding pressure on whatever wound he has on his left side. 

You reach him and grab his shoulder. “Dean, wake up” you say as you shake him awake, your worry only growing as he takes awhile to wake up. His eyes open slowly at your voice: “I'm not sleeping sweetheart. Just resting my eyes for a little”. You know that's bullshit. Who knows how much blood he’s lost at this point. 

“I need to see the wound, Dean” you say sternly, not trying to give way to your concern, knowing there is a job to be done here. 

“It’s fine baby, I just need a bandaid that’s all” he says as his eyes close again, not even having the energy to look at you while he talks. 

“De, I swear to God, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll let you bleed out on this table” you say, having enough of this shit. You’re tired of him downplaying how serious this was, especially because he needed help. 

“No, you wouldn’t” he says, knowing that there was no way in hell that you would let that happen, but still. You needed to get your point across. He finally opens his eyes to look at you and must see how worried you are, cause his lips turn down into a small, sad smile before attempting to remove his hand from his side. 

“Let me” you grab the scissors from the first aid kit and make quick work of his shirt, cutting down the side near his injury.

“Hey, that was my favorite…” he responds but all protests die when he sees the face you give him. The shirt is the least of your concern. 

Slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate the wound any further, you peel his shirt off of him and throw it to the ground. You’re finally able to get a full view of it and you're unable to silence the gasp that manages to escape your lips. 

From the bottom of his waist stretching across his ribs and ending right under his arm pit are five deep gashes, each one worse than the last. Staring at his mangled skin, one monster comes to mind that could inflict this kind of damage.

“Damn it Dean, you didn’t tell me it was a werewolf case you were on” you scold him as you assess the wounds. You grab the gauze and hydrogen peroxide from the first aid and you get ready to begin to clean the gashes. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t want you to wo— Son of a bitch!” He yells as you move the gauze you're holding to the first wound, attempting to scrub the dirty and dried blood off. 

“Don’t move or it’s going to hurt even worse” you tell him and you try and hold him still enough with your other hand so you can keep working. Eventually you’ve managed to clean out the first gash and it’s already  begun to leak out fresh blood from the irritation from the gauze. You know you need to work quickly, not knowing how much blood he’s already lost on the drive here. 

One down. Four to go. 

“You try not moving while someone burns your skin off” he retorts, complaining about the hydrogen peroxide your applying, trying your best to avoid infection. You don’t even want to begin to think of how dirty a werewolves claws are.  

“It doesn’t even burn you big baby” you say as he flinches at you when you begin to clean the second cut. 

“I’m not a big baby” he pouts, closing his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what your hands are doing. 

“Just save your strength and hush up” you tell him, knowing he needs to save all the energy he has left and not waste it on bantering with you. You continue working, washing the dirt and debris out of the second gash.

Two down. Three to go. 

That becomes your mantra as your mind thinks of nothing else but cleaning these wounds. 

Three down. Two to go. 

You work in silence and Dean doesn’t try to talk again, the pain being too much for him right now. You also don’t attempt a conversation with him right now, knowing that the only words that would come out right now would be filled with anger and fear, and you don’t think you have the stomach for that right now. 

Four down. One to go. 

After an eternity, you are finally able to clean the last gash, now taking a look at the true wounds in their bloody glory. “You’ll definitely need stitches for these, De. They're too deep” you surmise. All he does is nod his head and you know that the pain is getting to him. “You want something for the pain?” You question, and move to the first aid kit when he nods his head. You pull out the painkillers and grab the bottle of whiskey that was resting on the table. “Both will help, trust me” you say and you hand him the pills and open the whiskey bottle for him. 

He’s slow to move, not wanting to injure himself further. He gradually brings the pills to his lips, then the bottle, taking a few good gulps before handing it back to you. 

“Do you want to wait till they kick in before I start stitching you up?” You ask him. He shakes his head slowly. 

“Just get it over with” he responds, carefully laying his head back on the table. 

And that’s what you do for the next hour. Stitch by stitch, you close the wounds that are scattered across his skin. He’s definitely going to have a few scars, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, and it’s not like scars have ever bothered him before. He even revels in them a little, physical proof of what he’s overcome. Half way through you can tell he’s still in pain, but you notice his breathing has gotten more even, his shoulders more relaxed, and you know the pain killers have started to kick in. You breathe a sigh of relief and keep working. Your mind goes blank as you focus solely on what’s in front of you. 

Stitch, blood, stitch, some more blood, stitch, blood.

104 stitches and an empty whiskey bottle later, you finally finish. When he feels your hands lift from him, he stirs a little. 

“You done?” He questions you. He slightly slurs his words as his eyes look up at you with his head still resting on the table, waiting for your response. 

“Yeah I’m done” you respond as you finish dressing the wound. You finally stand up and look down at him. You're still upset at him for downplaying how injured he was, but seeing him now, some what whole and alive, you can’t help the knee wobbling relief that washes over you.

You reach your hand out and rub it through his hair, savoring the way it feels in your fingers. “I am so incredibly pissed off at you right now” you say weakly, but even as the words leave your lips, your eyes begin to water. 

“I know. I’m sorry sweetheart” he responds, dragging his hand up to rest on your hip. “You can yell at me tomorrow, I promise” he says, squeezing lightly.  

Your heart clenches at the gesture, and you smile through your tears. “Alright”, you respond as you wipe at your eyes. “Let’s get you to bed” you say as you move closer to him to help him stand up. You’re careful not to rub against his dressed wounds and grunt a little as you stand up with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. With small, slow steps both of you make it to your shared bedroom. You swing the door open with your foot and he turns on the light with his free hand. You make your way to the bed and gently lower him down. 

“I’m gonna get you out of these” you tell him, nudging at his jeans, eyeing the blood and grime scattered on them, knowing he’ll be more comfortable if he changes. 

“If you wanted me naked sweetheart, you could have just asked” he responds, looking up at you while attempting to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Ha-ha, very funny. I’d like to see you try any kind of move right now” you say, turning and walking towards his dresser, searching for a clean pair of shorts to change him in to. While digging through his drawers he responds: “Oh I have plenty of moves”. You look over and chuckle at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move off the bed, let alone do anything else. You walk back to him and begin taking his jeans off. Slowly dragging them down his legs, you search for any other wounds, glad to not find any. Once he’s changed, you help him lay under the covers and get comfortable. He’s already asleep by the time you move to the adjacent bathroom to change yourself. Once finished, you lay down with him. 

You can’t stop yourself from staring at him, memorizing the already known freckles on his face. You reach to stroke the stubble he’s neglected to shave on the hunt, the movement causing him to stir. 

“You know I love you, right?” He mumbles, not completely awake. 

“I know. I love you too” you respond, moving to kiss his cheek. “You’re definitely gonna hear about this in the morning” you add, knowing that an argument tonight wouldn’t benefit anyone. You also were too grateful he was still in one piece to be fully upset with him right now. 

“That’s alright baby. Yell at me all you want. The sex after our arguments is always the best” he says, grinning with his eyes still closed. 

You scoff. “You’re horrible” you say, smiling back at him, knowing he’s exactly right. 

[5sospenguinqueen]

Y/N: Well, we've tried doing things you way.

Dean: No, we didn't.

Y/N: Well, I did in my head and it didn't end well.

[unboundprompts]

Idk if you’ve done this yet but ways to describe a dark/scary motel/house? Something straight out of a paranormal horror story to be precise.

Thank you!! 🫶🏼

I love love love horror. If you ever want more horror prompts please let me know :)

Descriptions of Haunted Locations

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

The doors of the motel were identical, nothing differentiating them besides the rusted numbers. They were dirty, as if they had never been cleaned, and the paint had been chipped off over time. Some of the doors looked like they were covered in claw marks-- fingernails digging into the old paint in chilling, desperate lines.

The house was old. It looked like it hadn't been cared for in decades. The grass in the yard was up to her knees and ivy leaves grew on the exteriors of the house and rooted in the gutters. The windows were boarded up, making it look abandoned. The only way to glimpse the inside of the house was through the attic window.

The entry way was filled with dust. It lingered in the air and on every surface. He glanced up at the antique chandelier hanging high overhead, seeing the dirt and grime that dirtied the glass crystals. He tried the light switch, flicking it up and down but to no avail. When he turned on his phone's flashlight, and shone it through the dusty air, a shadow passed in front of him, darting through the entry way and up the stairs.

The motel room was small, the bed made with a comforter that looked like it came from their great-grandmother's house. It was a dirty floral pattern, with yellow pillows that were probably once white. The carpet was stained. Either with blood or dark red wine, they weren't sure. And the window that looked out onto the walkway was covered in fingerprints.

Taxidermy. The lobby of the motel was filled with horrible dead animals mounted to walls and displayed in the corners. She was near certain that their eyes would move. As she checked in, the taxidermy squirrel that sat on the desk stared at her with it's teeth bared.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[promptspa]

Random Prompt #90

"Did you just fucking bite me?" "...Yes, only a little. It's an affectionate thing, I promise."

[vampbittentbh]

Silly fantasy/supernatural couple prompts

(can fully be abt 2 platonic friends messing around too if you try hard enough.)

Helping a birdfolk to preen their feathers.

Having to chase their werewolf S/O around the city like a loose dog during full moon. Nothing harmful will happens, just making sure they aren't eating out of garbage cans and breaking public property.

Testing out a list of vampire powers and weakness they found online with their recently bitten partner.

Mermaids have never been to a water park, but have heard so well about it from humans. So your partner hatch a plan to get into one for your first date.

"A Shapeshifter? Prove it." "I can turn into you." "I see myself in the mirror every day, do someone cool."

You and your, also wizard, partner have been on a declared prank war on the past days. But it might have gotten out of hand since they pulled out the alchemy potions for it.

Adopting a ghost puppy together.

[get-prompted]

Prompt;

You’re a bank teller at a very large bank. This place has been robbed (and then saved by the hero/police) so much that you know the villains by name and they do too. Sometimes you even get coffee with them.

[youneedsomeprompts]

10 vampire AU prompts

requested by: various anons

Feel free to use and reblog!

#1 - "there's lipstick on your teeth" "that's not... lipstick..."

#2 - drawing portraits of each other to show how beautiful the other is

#3 - having a green thumb for night-blooming plants

#4 - wearing tooth gems on their fangs because it's ✨fancy✨

#5 - trying to make a meal for their human

#6 - taking a moonbath

#7 - being relieved when capes come back into fashion

#8 - saving a human but only because they're hungry

#9 - they were always told how dangerous humans are. they should've listened

#10 - trying to mask their hatred when speaking with a human

[horrornaturalevent]

WELCOME TO HORRORNATURAL: HORROR MEDIA ‘23

This is a three-facet prompt event meant to bring supernatural fans together to celebrate the horror side of our good best frenemy, supernatural.

WHEN: April 16-29th (two weeks)

WHO: Anyone! It is a gen event, so long as you follow the rules. Collaboration is allowed and encouraged.

WHAT: All types of media creation are allowed- from gifs, edits, fics, poems, amvs, art, manips, graphics, meta etc.

The nitty gritty prompt details are below. Happy haunting!

horror movies | pick a horror sub-genre prompt, turn it into an spn thing

Slasher/Splatter, Psychological, Creature, Science Fiction, Haunting/Supernatural, Comedy, Undead, Witchcraft, Gothic

This prompt is vague on purpose, do whatever you’d like with it.

root for your underdog | favorite monster of the week episode

Pick your favorite episode– that one MOTW episode that everyone else seems to have forgotten about but you still think about it. Elaborate on it, make it deeper than it is and then make some content for it that will have everyone else finally rotating it in their minds, too.

final girl-ism | favorite character that was/deserved to be the final girl

Though the common horror term Final Girl is not gender neutral, this is meant to be a gender non-specific prompt. Let's talk about all the characters who deserved to live and raise hell. Make them the main character of this horror story.

Once you’ve got your creation(s) made, you can post them whenever you’d like between April 16-29th. And then make sure to...

tag it with #horrornaturalmedia23

tag it with all relevant content warnings, see our rules

cross-posting allowed, just make sure we get a tumblr post version

@ our blog @horrornaturalevent to make sure we see it

spread the word!

See y’all soon!

[jokeringcutio]

OPEN FOR HALLOWEEN-THEMED REQUESTS (I'm in the mood)

This is your chance to request an AU about your favorite character and you (reader). Have an idea for a fancy Dark Romance Reader insert containing vampires? Monsters? Dressing up for Halloween? Trick or Treating? Living in an Addams Family Mansion? Being a witch and enchanting that handsome bastard you fell in love with? My ask is now open!

(Open to all Fandoms. Specify:

Character (Fandom) x Reader (Male/Female/Neutral) - Smut: yes or no. Add as many kinks or specifics as you want. I might not be able to write fills for all requests, but I'll try and reach out to as many of you as possible. Accepting LHBTI+ Requests.)

[prompts-in-a-barrel]

"My god. Were we that dumb when we were alive?"

"Worse, I think."

[thedramaticwriter1]

Bubbles

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: Dean walks in on you taking a bath. 

Character count: 2.9K+

Warnings: a tad of self deprecating dean.

A/N: a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, a little bit of bad writing, what more could you ask for?  

—————————————————————————————————

The warm water feels heavenly as you slowly lower you and your aching muscles into the tub. This last week might have been one of the most difficult hunts you’ve ever had in your life, with taking down what you initially thought was a singular vampire, and ended up being an entire nest. Luckily, this hunt Sam and Dean had both accompanied you, even though you had fought with them to stay home. “I can handle a vampire on my own” you had told them over and over again the days before you left. Dean had argued that he’s not saying you couldn’t, but he had had a bad feeling about this one and insisted both brothers tag along. Knowing there was nothing you could do to change his mind, you caved and let them join. Thank Chuck you did, or you definitely would’ve turned into a vamp yourself, or at the very least, the meal for one. 

The vampires of the nest you were unaware of had kidnapped you while you were out on a supply run, the brothers waiting for you back at the motel you were staying at. Two days you were missing, until, finally, Sam and Dean were able to tract you down, half dead in an abandoned building that was the nest for over a dozen vampires. The boys were able to finish the rest of the vampires and drag your blood-drained body out of the nest, scared to death that you were gone. You were unconscious for 36 hours after that and finally woke up in the bunker, not knowing what had happened. 

Dean had been the one to explain everything, and you knew true terror had plagued him those hours you were out, noting the lack of sleep under his eyes and the stubble he had neglected to shave off. You tried your best to reassure him that you were okay, that you always were okay in the end. But even you were still reeling by the events that had happened. You were always the one that saved people, never had you been the one that needed to be saved. 

Today was the first day that you were able to actually get out of bed with no help. Arms and legs still shaking with weakness and disuse, you walked with the assistance of walls and furniture to the bathroom. Once you stood in the mirrors reflection, you began to take stock of yourself. 

Your skin was pale, bags were prevalent under your eyes, and you had definitely dropped some weight during your recovery, noting that Deans’ t-shirt that you used as pajamas hung around your frame more loosely than it had before. Shaking you head, you looked away from the mirror and your gazed landed on the bath tub. You knew you were to unsteady for a shower, but you needed to clean yourself up, and a bath would probably require just enough energy you would be able to muster up right now. Slowly, you made your way over to the bathtub and sat on the edge, already lightheaded from all the movement. You plugged the drain before turning on the warm water and adding deans soap to the water, not caring about your retinue of bath related items under the sink. “This isn’t a relaxing bath” you told yourself, “this is a glad to be alive bath. You don’t need epson salt and a bath bomb”. 

Moving slowly, you removed your t-shirt and underwear, all the while staying sat at the edge of the tub. “The last thing you need is to fall and smack your head. You don’t have enough blood right now to lose it through a head wound” your inner dialogue rambled. 

The tub filled up fast and you turned off the faucet and shakily sunk into the water, waiting until you were completely submerged to finally relax. The warm water sunk into your worn out muscles and began to draw out some of the exhaustion that had plagued you these last couple of days. 

You don’t know how long you sat there, not even bothering to scrub your skin or wash your hair, when you heard the door to your bedroom open and close. Dean must had noticed the light on in the bathroom because a few seconds later there was a small knock on the door and it opened slowly. He peeked his head in and once he saw you in the bathtub, he slipped into the room fully. 

He walked over to the rim of the tub and lowered himself on the rug that laid on the floor, sitting adjacent to you, stretching one leg out and bending the other one at the knee, where he rested his arm. The other hand he stretched out, moving a piece of hair off of your brow.

“Sweetheart, you should have told me you wanted to take a bath. I would have helped you” he said as his brows furrowed but continued stroking your forehead. 

“I didn’t want to bother you, and as you can see, I made it here all by myself” you replied, lifting your hands out of the bubble-filled water in a ta-da gesture. 

He huffed his air out.“Yeah, and how many times did you almost faint trying to get in here?” He questioned, while starring at you with those green eyes of his. The same ones you could never lie to no matter how hard you tried. 

“Well I think the more important thing to note is that, regardless, I made it and I did it all by myself” you replied, completely dogging his question, casting your eyes down to the bubbles that swirled around. 

“Y/N…… how many times?” He lowered his hand to your chin and forced you to look back at him. 

“Only like twice, which honestly is like none at all, so no big deal”. You smirked up at him with fake amusement. You knew he would be highly concerned if you told him how it actually felt to get up and walk in here, like death itself. But you didn’t want to add on to the burden you knew he already felt. He had already told you once when you woke up that he knew he was to blame for the kidnapping. That he should have gone with you on that supply run and if he had, none of this would have happened. You had reassured him multiple times that you didn’t blame him, or Sam, and that it was absolutely not his fault. But it didn’t matter. The guilt was there. You could feel it radiating off of him in waves, and at this point, there was very little that could be said or done to change his mind. 

He shook his head and he redrew his hand from you, using it to start drawing shapes in the now dissipating bubbles that floated around. He stayed quiet for some time, but you knew he was building up to say something, and you were gonna give him the time he needed to collect his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry”. Was all he said, with no explanation after. You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.  

“Dean, we’ve been over this. Nothing that happened was your fault. I’m not going to accept an apology from you when you have no reason to give one to me.” You tried to move up off the back of the porcelain tub so you could reassure him, but you forgot for a second how weak you were, and you couldn’t move as fast as you normally could. Your vision went hazy and your limbs failed you, your arms plopping pathetically back into the water. 

“Look, you can barely move, that’s all my fault!” He gestured with his hands, shaking his head in frustration. Not at you, but at himself. That never ending self deprecation of his showing its ugly face. You and him have been together for two years, and though he has gotten better at not beating himself up for everything he thinks he fails at, he hasn’t gotten rid of the habit completely. And every now and then, the negative thoughts towards himself about not being good enough and deserving punishment for actions out of his control always pops up. This is definitely one of those times. 

Again, you try to slide up the tub, this time more slowly and deliberately, giving your arms time to catch up. Once you’ve pulled yourself higher out of the water, you’re able to turn and face him some what directly. 

“Look at me”. You say as you reach to grab his arm, but he moves out of my reach, your hand falling onto the edge of the tub.

“No Y/N, I know what you're gonna say” he says as he moves away from you and stands up. “You’re going to say that it wasn’t my fault, that we couldn’t have known what was going to happen. That not every situation needs someone to blame, cause sometimes the universe just happens, but you know what? Thats a load of bullshit and you know it. I knew what could happen the second you walked out that door and yet I still let you go alone. I knew better, my gut knew better, and still I did nothing about it. That is the very definition of a ‘its completely your fault’ fuck up”. 

“Dean……” you start to say as you try to reason with him.

“No, no. Stop trying to make me feel better, because honestly, I don’t fucking deserve it. It took me two days to find you. TWO. DAYS. I’ve told you our whole relationship that no matter what I would protect you and when it came down to it, I failed. Miserably. I’m not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you, and had you not survived Y/N, I definitely would have found a way to make me pay for it”.

You sit there in complete disbelief, mouth hanging wide open. You knew to some extent what he was feeling about this whole situation, but you didn’t fully comprehend how guilty he thought he was. You’re shocked to say the least, but more so than that, you’re pissed.

Seconds go by as he stands there, breathing in and out trying to calm himself down and that’s all it takes for your resolve to  harden.

“Come sit down” you say, as you level your voice and point back to the rug he had previously occupied. “Now”. 

He knows the tone in your voice and he knows that arguing is only going to piss you off further. Accepting the tiny defeat, he sits back down on the rug, close enough that your hands are able to find the sides of his face. 

“I don’t ever, EVER, want to hear you talking about yourself like this, especially implying that you would somehow find a way to hurt yourself. I don’t care what has happened, I don’t care who was at fault. I love you, and that means that there is nothing you could do that would require forgiveness from me because I’ve already forgiven you for anything and everything you could ever do. But for this…” I shake my hands a little so he fully understand what I’m saying, “This does not need forgiveness, because this was not your fault. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. For not being the hunter I needed to be. For not being the hunter that should have noticed something was off before they took me. I put us in this situation.” 

He pushes to protest, but you move a hand to cover his mouth.

“No Dean, I don’t want to hear it. I have the right to take the blame for this as much as you do. You know why? Because you were the one who got me out, Dean. You could have been hurt or killed, and yet you and Sam still risked everything to save me.” 

His eyes begin to water as he places a hand on top of yours that still rests on his cheek. “Of course I had to rescue you, Sweetheart. I love you. Don’t know what I would without you.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Then please stop beating yourself up over this. It’s unbearable to see you feel so guilty for something you had no control over.” 

He nods his head as he closes his eyes, those built up tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he rests his forehead against yours. You know this isn’t the end of this. He’s not done hating himself. He’ll carry this around for awhile, and he’ll try to do it quietly and by himself. 

He’s crazy if he thinks you’ll let him go through that alone.

Both of you stay like this for a few minutes, soaking each other up. But the water has grown tepid and the bubbles had disappeared during your talk and you start to shiver in the cold air of the bathroom. He notices right away. 

“You cold? You wanna get out?” He questions as he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing.

“Yes, please” is your response as he quickly stands up to grab a towel that’s located under the sink. “I’m gonna need some help” you sheepishly say while ducking your head. Admitting you needed help had never been your strong suit, even when you’re not recovering from a vampire attack.

“It’s okay baby, that what I’m here for” he whispers as he grips both of his arms under your shoulders and lifts you out of the tub in one soothe movement. You arms wrap around his shoulders on instinct.“Do you think you're able to stand here for a second?” He questions you as he takes the full weight of your body. 

“Yeah, just give me minute” you say, as you close your eyes and will away the dizziness that threatens to take over. He stands there with you, your head on his chest, your hair soaking into his shirt as he waits for you to stand on your own. Slowly, your legs straighten out and are able to bear the brunt of your weight. He feels the shift in you and moves one hand out from under you and places it on your back. “You good, baby?” He asks as he starts rubbing soothing circles there.

“Yeah, I’m good” you respond as he slowly moves you away from him to stand up straight. He reaches to grab the towel he placed on the counter while also keeping one hand on your arm, steading you and ready to catch you if necessary. He uses it quickly to dry you off. Wrapping the towel around you when he’s done, he unplugs the drain and places one arm under your knees and the other on your back and around your shoulder. One smooth movement, and he’s carrying you out of the bathroom back to your bedroom.

Normally opposed to looking so weak, you let him help you as much as possible, knowing that being in control is how he copes with these situations. And with the energy spent to just get in the bathtub, you doubt you could walk back to your bed, even with his help. 

With steady steps he takes you back into your room and to your bed. He places you gently on top and tells you not to go anywhere. “Don’t think I could even if I wanted to” was your snarky reply as you sat there in your towel. He huffs as he walks over to your dresser and rummages around until he pulls out one of his t-shirts. 

“I don’t remember letting you borrow this one” he says as he lifts up his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt.

You silently curse yourself, totally forgetting that you had snuck that out of his room the week before you left for this hunt. “No, you definitely gave me that one, don’t you remember?” You say and you can’t even get it out with a straight face, letting a giggle slip past your lips. 

“Mmmmmhhhmmm” he says with a slight smirk as he walks back over to stand in front of you. “Normally, I would get mad cause I really love this shirt, but I think you’ve won yourself a free pass this week, don’t you sweetheart?” You smile at him sadly as he sighs and unwraps the towel off of you and places the shirt over you head. Arm by arm he situates the shirt until its resting comfortably on your form. 

“You hungry?” He asks as he rubs your shoulders in an attempt to warm you up faster.

“Not really. But I could absolutely take a killer nap right now” you smile at him as he gives your shoulders a loving squeeze. 

“Then let’s get you to bed” he says and he starts to lay you back on the bed and under the covers. 

“Will you stay with me?” You look up into his green eyes. He leans down and places a kiss in the middle of your forehead. 

“Sweetheart, there is no where else I would rather be.” 

[5sospenguinqueen]

(Getting ready for bed.)

Dean: How much crap do you put on your face?

Y/N: About the same amount of crap that comes out of your mouth.

[unboundprompts]

Random Prompt #82

There was something in the basement. You could hear it whispering to you at night, begging to be released. Unlock the doorrrrrrr... the voice would scratch at your mind. Pleassssssse, opennnn iiiiitt.

[thependragonwritersguild]

Prompt #14225

"Some vampire children are born with the powers. Others with the weaknesses."

[enochianribs]

[ID: A banner edit of a shot of the scarecrow from episode 1x11. It’s an orange and brown gradient over it with torn paper at the bottom that leads into the post format. It reads HORRORNATURAL 2022 in white gothic font.]

Spooky season is just around the corner, y’all! To celebrate, I’ve decided to host a casual horror themed prompt event for the entire month of October!

You can see a complete breakdown of the event here- including the rules, full prompt list and schedule. Please make sure to read through it if you plan on participating.

here is the tldr:

horrornatural is a six week long event

any medium of creation is accepted from fics to amvs to art to gifs

anyone can participate, not just mutuals or destiel bloggers

all posts will be tagged under #horrornatural22

it is a casual event meant to embrace the horror side of supernatural

full rule list here

the prompt list:

week one: graveyard, wrath, teeth

week two: werewolf, bloody, abandoned

week three: ghost, cosmic, sacrifice

week four: demon, lost, slasher

week five: vampire, insidious, night

week six: empty, trueform, witch

It starts on September 25th and (conveniently) ends November 5th.

If you just want to see all the shiny spooky posts without participating, I recommend following the #horrornatural22 tag. Follow the official blog @horrornaturalevent.

If you have any questions not answered on the doc, please send them my way. I am currently the only admin of this event, so responses may be slow.

Reblogs are much appreciated to spread the word. Thanks! 🧡