#twsupernaturalimagine

[twsupernaturalimagine]

Hold On

Author: stressed-zoe

Summary: A hunt with the boys had gone terribly wrong, and you blamed yourself. Based loosely on the song “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet

Word Count: 1,028

Warnings: death, depression, self harm, suicide, swearing

Fic:

your fault.

its all your fault.

she died. because of you.

its your fault.

You went on a hunt with Sam and Dean. It was simple, a ghost in someone’s house. But when you got there, it turned out it wasn’t any old ghost, it was a nasty demon. Everything had gone wrong. So so wrong. And it was your fault. You got distracted, and someone innocent had died because of it. The brothers were hurt. Dean had nearly broken his shoulder and a couple ribs. Sam got shot in the leg and has a dislocated elbow.

You barely had a scratch.

The car ride home from the hospital was unbearable. You could barely hold in the sobs. Sam and Dean told you numerous times it wasn’t your fault, it’s all part of the life. But you wouldn’t listen, you couldn’t. If you were just a few seconds quicker, just a little more attentive, you could’ve saved that poor girl’s life. But she had to suffer, because you were too slow.

You should be dead. Not her.

When you got back to the bunker you immediately ran to your room, not bothering to hold in your cries. it didn’t matter if they heard you, you’d be done soon, and it would be over.

You got to your room and slammed the door, locking it behind you. You could hear the brothers calling your name. But you didn’t care. You sank to the floor, letting the tears flow. You couldn’t handle it. You heard Sam and Dean approaching your room, so you ran into your bathroom and locked he door. By this point, you had no more tears to shed, all that as left was the dry, choking sobs.

Taped behind the toilet was a small envelope, it was where you kept your razors. It was the best place you could hide them so the brothers couldn’t find out. You grabbed the envelope and took out the sharpest razor. Marveling at how shiny and cold it felt. You heard the brothers break into your room, calling your name. You were running out of the time.

You had already thrown on some shorts, so with one deep breath, you made one long horizontal cut on your thigh. That was just the beginning. You kept cutting, and the tears started again. Soon you were full on sobbing, not paying attention to were you were cutting. If it wasn’t red, you cut it. Soon you felt dizzy, and noticed you had stopped crying, stopped cutting, and you were laying on the floor. 

Then you heard a crash.

“NO!!”

[Dean’s P.O.V.]

No, no,no, no, no. 

You’re lying on the floor, in a pool of your own blood. You’re barely conscious.

He picked you up and felt for a heartbeat, anything. After a few seconds he could feel it barely working.

“Oh god, (Y/N), hold on. Sam, get the car ready.”

Why her. Why did it have to be her.

“Come on (Y/N), come back to me, hold on.”

He grabbed some towels, trying to stop the blood as much as he could. He could see all of the old cuts. The ones that had healed, leaving nothing but scars now, the ones that had mostly healed but were still red and scabbed. Then there were the ones from the night before--now reopened from the aggressive cuts made tonight.

“Shit, (Y/N),” Dean muttered.

He picked you up, trying his best not to disturb anything, and carried you as quickly and carefully as he could with his shoulder injured how it was.

“It’s OK (Y/N), it’s all gonna be OK. Please don’t leave me. Just hold on.”

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Dean almost couldn’t let go of you, screaming as they took you away on a table. He paced back and forth the while they were operating. They had taken you into surgery. Sam was almost silent. Dean didn’t know if he was trying to be strong, or if he was so broken he couldn’t do anything.

The doctor finally let them visit you. When they saw you, Sam finally started crying, Dean was sobbing. You looked so broken and frail. The heart monitor beeped slowly, barely steady.

Dean didn’t sleep that night, all he could think about was why you would do this. You must not have realized how much you meant to the brothers. He felt guilty, he should’ve been there to help you. 

“Please….(Y/N)….don’t go. I just want to take you home. Come back, I need you.” 

Out of no where, your body seized, and the heart monitor started beeping rapidly.

“NURSE!!”

There was nothing he could do. You were dying.

“NURSES!! HURRY!!”

Sam was awake now. He ran off to find someone.

When he came back moments later, a group of about a dozen doctors and nurses followed him. They had the boys stand by the door while the doctors tried anything to save you. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean choked out. He couldn’t bear to watch this, but he did anyway. Just in case you would miraculously wake up, and everything would be OK.

The heart monitor was going even faster now. 

Then it stopped.

A flat line.

Dean broke down. He fell to his knees. 

He  would never get to hear you laugh at one of Sam’s dumb nerd jokes. 

He would never get to hear you sing some old rock song while driving in the Impala. 

He would never walk into the kitchen and see you dancing and singing while making breakfast for everybody.

He would never see you freaking out at some dog on the street or some picture of a guinea pig Cas had shown you.

He would never get to see you again. 

He would never get to enjoy the things he loved about you.

He would never get to tell you how much he had loved you.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Dean looked up, amazed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You were alive. The doctors started yelling again, he and Sam stood up, jaws dropped, awe in there eyes.

You had decided to fight. 

You had decided to live.

[supernaturalimagine]

Update 5/22/2023

Hello all! Admin Clarence here :)

First, I'd like to sincerely apologize for the unexpected hiatus. I had to finish my last semester of college, which was one of the most intensely busy times of my life. To finish it off, I ended up moving, getting surgery, and having some job instability all within about a week and a half.

This blog unfortunately had to be pushed back, but with luck, we'll be back to publishing more regularly once I'm settled in my new place in June!

I'll be bouncing some ideas around with Admin Lana in the next couple weeks. As the new admin (and pretty much the only active one), I have a few things that I think could be fun for both this blog an @twsupernaturalimagine! Of course, if there are any changes being made, we'll be checking in with you lovely people 🖤

Huge thank you to everyone who submitted ideas; rest assured that they will be published!

~ Clarence 🐸

[temporalriftthings]

Shifting Thoughts

A Supernatural One-Shot

This is my first fanfiction I’ve ever actually written and finished and am putting somewhere that others can see... Please let me know what you think, any and all constructive criticism is welcome!

I guess on with the fic...

Prompt: Imagine having a panic attack while on a hunt and hiding it until you get back to the bunker and completely break down. (Prompt credit to TWSupernaturalImagine)

Warnings: Mentions of  panic attack, anxiety, canon typical violence, abandonment. I’ve tried to tag everything as warning as well, let me know if you think other stuff needs to be added. 

Word count: 5403

Pulling back the slide on my pistol, I checked to make sure the silver bullets were in and ready. Seeing that they were, I glanced over to find Sam and Dean had finished their own weapon checks and were waiting on me before opening the manhole. Giving them a nod, I slipped a silver knife into my boot and closed the trunk of the impala. As I walked over, Dean knelt down and removed the manhole cover.

“Hey Y/N, you ready for the glamorous sewer life of a shifter?” He glanced up at me with a cocky grin.

Recoiling from the breeze wafting up from the sewer, I tried not to breathe in too deeply and hide my reaction to the smell. I didn’t hide it well enough because Sam patted my shoulder and laughed.

“Yeah, I know. Sewers are an acquired smell. Don’t worry Y/N, hopefully we won’t be down there too long.”

Throwing him a grateful smile, I turned back to Dean, slid my gun into my waistband, and smirked. “You think you can keep the sewer out of your hair?”

Mock glaring at me, Dean moved his legs into the hole and found the ladder. “Sweetheart, I think that’s something you’ll have to worry about more than I do,” he motioned to my ponytail before beginning to climb down into the sewer.

Watching him disappear into the darkness made me uneasy for a second until I felt Sam’s hand on my shoulder again.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay.” In the time I had known the boys, I had opened up to them some. During one drunken night with them, after a few too many beers I had let slip that I wasn’t too fond of enclosed dark spaces. Yet that was nothing compared to the real reason I got scared watching Dean disappear. “Dean’s down there, we’ll be with you the entire time. He’s probably impatiently waiting for us to climb down.” A loud knock, like metal hitting metal, reverberated up the shaft, proving Dean’s impatience and Sam’s statement.

Biting out a laugh, I swung my legs onto the ladder rungs to begin my descent.

Reaching the bottom, I moved out of the way so Sam could come down too, pulling out my gun just in case. Once Sam reached the bottom of the ladder, Dean motioned towards the long sewer line that we thought, and hoped, would lead us to the shifter’s lair.

The boys went into the tunnel first, while I acted as the backup and resisted the urge to pull my shirt over my nose and mouth. We quickly and quietly made our way down the walkway and soon reached an intersection of four different sewer tunnels. Looking around at the three openings, I sighed, knowing that none of us was going to like what needed to happen.

“We all know how to proceed from here,” Dean was the first to speak but the reluctance was obvious in his voice, “Sammy, take right, Y/N, take middle, and I’ll take left. If anyone meets trouble, shout and the rest will come running.”

“Dean, I really don’t think that’s a good idea - ” Sam started to speak but Dean cut him off.

“Sam, I don’t like it any more than you, but it’s the best way to do it right now.”

I felt bad because I knew Sam was only objecting for my sake. Placing my hand on Sam’s arm, I gave him a brave smile, “it’s okay Sam, Dean’s right. Splitting up sucks, but the sooner we do it, the sooner we can gank this shifter and get out of here.” I pulled my hand off his sleeve, afraid if I left it there a moment longer I’d grab his arm and not let go. Holding up my right hand I flashed the simple silver rings I always wore. “Besides, we’ve all got enough silver items that it can’t pretend to be one of us long enough to do damage.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam gave me a small smile before turning to start down the right tunnel, gun held in front of him, ready to shoot anything that moved.

“You keep safe now Y/N, don’t try any heroics, if you see the bastard, shoot first and yell if you need us.” Dean reached over and gave me a quick hug before heading down the leftmost tunnel in a similar fashion.

I listened to their footsteps until they faded down the other tunnels before turning to the middle tunnel and taking a deep breath, trying not to choke on the sewer smell.

“Okay, you’ve got this, Sam and Dean believe in you and will come help if you need them.”

Double checking that my knife was still in my boot, I lifted my gun and started slowly walking down the tunnel. There was nothing to see or worry about for the first ten meters or so, not even the rats wanted to be in these sewers. All too soon I started seeing some light and could hear something moving around ahead of me. Picking up my pace a little, I quickly made it to the end of the tunnel and saw that I had found the shifter’s home.

Not wanting to give myself away in case the shifter was in there, I snuck past the tunnel opening and got a look around the small area. There wasn’t much to see, but I saw a few piles of the goop left over after a shifter changes, and a shelf holding a few items that looked like mementos or trophies from the different kills that the shifter had done. Staying alert, I carefully walked over to look at the objects, while I placed my gun back into my waistband. As I approached, I saw that one of the items was a doll, similar to one I had as a child, before the real world decided to show me how cruel it could be. Picking up the doll, I turned it over in my hand, looking at the painted on face, noticing the smudges that showed how often it had been carried around, feeling the smoothness of its features. So lost was I in the details of the doll, that I didn’t hear the shifter coming into the room until it was right behind me.

“How did you find me?” The low timber of a familiar voice startled me from my thoughts. Dropping the doll, I tried to pull out my pistol as I turned around but couldn’t when the shifter grabbed my arms and held them behind me. I couldn’t see it since it held me so I faced the trophy shelf, hissing in pain as it tightened its grip on my arms.

“It wasn’t too hard, just had to follow the sewer smell.” I regretted the sarcasm as soon as it left my mouth, but it was too late. Growling, the shifter slammed me forward into the wall and I blacked out.

The overwhelming scent of sewer invaded my nostrils causing me to attempt to jerk awake. I only managed to bump my head on a low pipe and nearly rip my shoulder out of the socket with my sudden movement. Shaking my head a little to clear my thoughts I whimpered as the movement reminded me that a wall had met with my head earlier. Remembering earlier caused me to pause and try to determine how long I’d been out. Since there were no clocks or windows and my wrists were tied around a pole behind my back I couldn’t tell what time it was and so couldn’t figure out how long I’d been out. Looking around I noted I was still in the same room as before, I could see the shelf of trophies from where I was tied up. Starting to catalog my injuries I figured out the worst was the possible concussion followed by my arms where I could feel bruises forming from my wrist restraints. Wiggling my fingers told me that my silver rings were still there, but I could feel that the shifter had taken my gun from my waistband. Rolling my foot a little I determined that my knife was still in my boot, possibly unnoticed by the shifter since I was wearing jeans.

I started wiggling my hands to try and get loose from the restraints, but hadn’t gotten anywhere when I heard footsteps start coming towards me. I jerked harder at the restraints, but it did nothing except cause more pain in my wrists.

The footsteps stopped, waiting just at the end of the tunnel opening. A second set of footsteps caught up and paused as well. Slowly a head peeked around the tunnel opening, looking around the room. I almost cried with relief when I saw that it was Dean and Sam was right behind him.

“Dean! I’m over here!” Calling out to him I tried to sit up a little more to be seen. “The shifter knocked me out and tied me up. Did you two kill it?”

I excitedly watched them walk over to me, waiting for one of them to help remove the restraints, but as they got closer, I noticed that something seemed off about them. Neither had spoken in the entire time since they entered, and both were walking slowly. When Dean was about five feet from me, I realized that he wasn’t wearing the same clothes he had been earlier. And none of his regular bracelets covered his wrists. Sam’s clothes had changed as well, and there was a scary glint in his eye as he looked at me.

“Guys? Are you okay? Why’d you change clothes?” As each question went unanswered, my panic started to rise a little higher and higher. “Dean? Sam? Dammit! Say something, anything, please!”

Sam started laughing at the noticeable panic in my voice, and Dean even cracked a smile. Both stood in front of me, leaning against the pipes that went from floor to ceiling.

“Sweetheart, what makes you think something’s wrong? Sammy and I just had to change our clothes ‘cause killing the shifters got a little messy.” Dean spoke as though he was trying to comfort me, but had the undertone of laughter he could barely hide.

“Wait, shifters? As in plural?” Puzzle pieces started falling into place, some of the evidence from the case making more sense as I thought about two or more shifters helping out. “How did you figure it out?”

“Oh, they didn’t.” Sam finally spoke after choking down his laughter. “But we figured you’d want to pretend we were them for a little bit. I guess it’s just hard for me to keep in character when it’s stupidly obvious that we’re fakes.”

Dean threw an exasperated look at his brother before turning back to me.

“Well, I guess the shifter’s out of the bag now. Doesn’t mean we can’t still have some fun with you though. How’d you like to know some of Sam and Dean’s innermost thoughts about you? I bet you’d just love that.” The shifter wearing Dean’s skin got closer and closer to me until I was pressing into the pipe at my back to try and move away.

“Oh! I’ve got one! Sam thinks she’s a pretty useless hunter, that’s why they have her as the backup on hunts. They can’t trust her to do things right.” Shifter!Sam spoke up while Shifter!Dean reached a hand out towards me making me shake my head to try and stay away from him. “Sam doesn’t even want her to help with research cause he’s afraid she’ll get the facts mixed up.”

“Dean doesn’t want her using anything larger than a 9mm cause he’s afraid she’s going to end up shooting one of them instead of the target.” Shifter!Dean smirked and stood up to join in the taunting.

“Maybe we should just leave her the next time we stop for the night.”

“Oh, like ditch her at the motel and drive off so we can go do a successful hunt?”

“Yeah! Definitely. Not like anyone wants to stick around with her for long anyways. If at all even.”

I started breathing a little quicker as their words started to sink into my brain. Nothing they were saying was necessarily a lie. Sam often told me he was doing fine when I offered to help with research. Dean would have me practice on the gun range, but when I asked about using larger calibers would say that I needed to master a 9mm first. My breaths started coming in short gasps as these thoughts started cementing themselves in my brain. I could feel the lack of oxygen start to make my face feel numb. I curled my legs up into my chest, wishing that my arms were loose so I could completely curl into a ball. There was a roaring sound in my ears that I realized was just my own breathing being way too loud. Over the roaring I could hear the two shifters laughing at me and my breakdown. I tried to calm down, to try and escape the restraints, to do anything to stop the panic attack forming but found I was almost useless. Suddenly I felt the rope around my wrists give way from the constant pulling and rubbing I was doing and I had use of my arms for just a moment. Quickly grabbing the knife from my boot, I threw it into the chest of the shifter that looked like Dean with an accuracy that surprised even me. Before the other shifter could react, I stumbled forward on numb legs, grabbed the knife and slammed it into the throat of the remaining shifter.

Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to calm my racing heart, at least enough that I would be able to stand up and call for the guys. Carefully standing up, I deemed my nerves calmed enough that I could yell for Sam and Dean without looking like a complete fool.

“Sam! Dean!” My yell echoed around the small room, but I heard answering shouts come from the tunnels. Hoping that the brothers weren’t too far away I started to clean my knife and look around to try and find my gun.

Right as I noticed it sitting on the trophy shelf next to the doll, Sam and Dean pounded into the room, guns drawn and immediately looking for a target.

Waving my hand to get their attention I silently pointed at the floor, hoping that the less I spoke, the less chance they’d have to see how freaked out I was. Whistling in appreciation Dean shoved his gun into his waistband and walked over to the dead bodies.

“Why do these bastards love to choose us to imitate?” His gripe was aimed at Sam, but I saw the small smirk on his face betraying his humor at finding himself dead again.

“I dunno, maybe it’s our charming personalities?” Sam mimicked his brother’s actions and put his gun away. He glanced over at me quickly before turning to look at the bodies. “Y/N, did you kill both of them? With your knife?” His voice sounded almost incredulous and I couldn’t blame him when we all knew my knife proficiency was pretty shitty.

Just another reason they don’t want or need you around. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam’s whispered in my head, reminding me of all the things the shifters had said before I killed them.

Shaking my head I pushed those thoughts away, deciding I’d deal with it later on my own, refusing to seem weak in front of the guys. Hoping neither had noticed my lapse, I finished walking over to the shelf that had my gun. “Yeah, the bastards knocked me out and took my gun. Was able to get my hands free and throw the knife into one’s chest before grabbing it to stab the other in the throat.” Shoving my gun into my waistband, I turned to the two brothers and put on my best okay face.

“So, you boys ready to blow this popsicle stand? Cause I know I’m ready to wash the sewer smell out of my hair and catch up on some actual sleep.” Forcing a smirk, I walked past the brothers and started back into the tunnel that would lead us to the manhole we had entered in. I turned back to see the boys both staring at me, but then they shared a glance, shrugged and followed after me.

Once we had all climbed out of the sewer, we threw our jackets into the trunk along with our guns and silver knives. Grabbing a spare shirt from my duffle I changed at least that much, knowing I wouldn’t be able to change my pants until later. Sliding into the backseat I leaned back and tried to calm my racing mind. I couldn’t let myself fall asleep yet, knowing that I was still too close to a panic attack to let my guard down like that. The boys finished changing their shirts and climbed into the front seats, Dean immediately starting the engine and sliding one of his tapes into the player, Sam turning in his seat a little to make eye contact with me and give me a small smile.

“You did good tonight Y/N, I don’t think either of us would have been able to take down two shifters on our own like that.” Dean, busy bobbing his head in time with the music, made a grunt that I assumed was agreement.

“Thanks guys, but I don’t think I really want to do it again any time soon if that’s okay.” I faked a laugh and wiggled in my seat to get a little more comfortable for the car ride. Chuckling in agreement, Sam leaned back into his seat and settled in for a nap while Dean hit the gas, turning onto the highway that would lead us back to the bunker.

The drive went by fairly quickly, I mostly stared out the window at the passing scenery, letting it all flow over me while I tried to keep my breathing even despite my thoughts doing their best to push me into a panic attack.

As soon as we got back to the bunker I made a beeline for my room, almost forgetting to grab my duffle as I nearly ran past the trunk. Quickly weaving through the hallways of the bunker I almost collapsed in relief when I saw the familiar sight of my bedroom door in front of me.

Making it through the doorway of my room, I shut the door, flung my duffle into the corner and threw myself onto the bed. Barely pausing to take my shoes off I clutched my pillow to my chest as I instinctively curled into a ball. My breaths started getting faster and shorter and the roaring sound flooded back into my ears. I could feel my face going numb and my fingers starting to tingle as the lack of blood flow started to show. Logically I knew I should try to stretch out, that being curled up wasn’t helpful for anything, but despite that I curled tighter, trying to make myself as small as possible.

All of the comments from the shifters and my own unhelpful thoughts started to swirl around, becoming the only thing I could hear over the roaring in my ears.

They don’t want you here.

They hunt better without you.

They only let you stay because they felt sorry for you.

You’re useless to them.

Dean wants to ditch you.

Sam knows how stupid you actually are.

Sooner or later they’re just going to leave you like everyone else already has.

Unnecessary.

Useless.

Failure.

So lost was I in my own thoughts I didn’t notice my door creep open. I didn’t see Dean poke his head in and do a double take at the sight of me curled up on my bed. I didn’t hear him shout down the hallway for Sam to ‘get his ass in here now!’ Didn’t notice Sam come running in and send Dean away as soon as he saw me. I did feel the mattress shift as Sam sat next to me. I felt his hands gently grab my shoulders and pull me close to him. I was pulled away from my thoughts as he held me close, gently enough not to aggravate any wounds, but firmly enough to start grounding me back in reality.

As he sat me up, I tried to slow my breathing enough to talk, but wasn’t able to get any discernable words out, only partial fragments causing me to choke up and sink back towards my thoughts.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’m okay, Dean’s okay, we’re all okay.” His voice was soothing and he started rubbing circles on my back as he spoke. “I need you to slow down your breathing. Can you try to match with me?” Sam started taking exaggerated breathes, physically moving me as he breathed in and out. I started trying to match my breathing with his, but kept choking up on some of the in breaths causing all progress to disappear and revert to hyperventilating.

“Whoa, Y/N, babe, you need to slow your breathing. Come on, I know you can do it.” Sam’s voice was slowly breaking through to me, reminding me that I was safely in the bunker with him and Dean.

I tried to uncurl myself a little, fighting against my limbs that wanted to stay curled up against my body. I succeeded in moving my arms away from my face only to suddenly fist my hands in my hair. I started tugging at the strands wrapped around my fingers as my breathing started to pick up again.

Sam noticed me pulling at my hair and stopped rubbing my back to reach up and try to untangle my hands from my hair. Pitiful whimpering noises escaped my mouth between gasps as he tried to remove my hands. I felt my fingers weakly move but I had little control over them. My face felt tingly from the lack of blood flow, and my legs were starting to cramp into the curled position because of how long I had left them that way.

Despite the edges of my vision starting to blur, I could see Sam clench his jaw as though having an internal debate. Before I could try and ask him what was wrong he moved and did the last thing I would ever expect.

Sam’s lips came crashing down onto mine, cutting off my hyperventilating and surprising me. I tensed up for a second before relaxing into the kiss, loosening my hands from my hair and letting go of the tension in the rest of my body. He moved back for a second to catch his breath and I immediately yearned for the broken contact. Wriggling in his hold I tried to move forward a little, whether to kiss him again or to simply nestle myself into his chest I wasn’t sure. Seeing me moving Sam leaned back in and gave me a gentler kiss, cupping his hand on my cheek and pulling me closer with the arm around my waist. This time when he pulled back for air he rested his forehead against mine and smiled at me.

“I guess it worked.” He whispered as he raised his hand to brush some hair back from my face.

“What do you mean?” I cuddled closer to his chest, turning a little so I could keep eye contact with him.

“You’ve stopped hyperventilating, I decided to try an odd version of ‘turning it off and on again’ to see if it helped. Cutting off your air for a second worked.” I couldn’t get mad at the soft smirk that crossed his face as he watched me process that. I hadn’t really noticed when I stopped having to gasp for air, but thinking back, I realized it had been right after he kissed me the first time, and I’d been too preoccupied with trying to get closer to him to re-start hyperventilating.

“Thank you Sammy.” He smiled at my murmured response, allowing me to use the name normally only Dean could get away using.

“Do you want to talk? What is it that caused this?”

Hearing the concern in his voice made me want to curl back up in a ball and hide. Resisting the urge I leaned my head back so I could see his face again. “It was just a little panic attack, I’ll be fine, sorry you had to see that.” The idea of telling Sam the truth behind my panic attack almost started me towards another. I could feel my heartbeat start to pick up again.

Apparently Sam could too because he pulled me closer and shifted so that we were both leaning against the headboard of my bed. “Y/N, it didn’t seem like nothing. I thought you were fine in the car, but then you almost sprinted to your room once Dean put it in park. What’s really going on?”

“Sam, I don’t know if I can tell you.” I could feel tears start to well up and furiously wiped them away before they could start to trail down my face.

“Y/N, why not? I swear I’m not going to think any differently of you. I just want to help, but I can’t if I don’t know what the problem is.” The sincerity in his voice broke through my resolve and a few tears escaped from the corner of my eye before I could stop them. Lifting his hand, Sam cupped my cheek and wiped them away. “Please, let me in, I want to help you. But I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Choking back sobs I opened my mouth to try and tell him it was nothing, try being the key word. Once I opened my mouth, I started sobbing and couldn’t get a word out. Sam pulled me closer and let me cry into his shirt, soaking it through entirely. The sobs started to get less intense and I knew that I had to stop hiding.

Soon it all came spilling out. My fears of abandonment and loneliness, what the shifters had said while they looked like the guys, all the thoughts running through my head that constantly made me second guess how much anyone actually needed me around. I couldn’t tell if Sam understood all of what I was saying since I started crying again about halfway through, but he just sat there and held me through it all, occasionally wiping away a tear, or pushing some hair back behind my ear. In the end I was just curled in his arms crying, there was nothing more I wanted to say that I hadn’t already spoken.

Seeing that I had finished talking, Sam didn’t speak for a minute. Worried that I had finally said too much and scared him away I tried to glance at his face without him noticing. As my eyes moved up I suddenly made eye contact with him. While I had been trying to look at him, he’d simply been waiting for me to look up. Before I could try and look away or make an excuse, he gave me a sad smile.

“I’m so sorry.” His words startled me, what was there for Sam to be sorry for? If anything I should be the one apologizing (again) to him, not the other way around. Seeing my mouth open to say something he hurried to keep talking before I could interrupt. “I should have noticed this sooner, Dean and I should have made it clear you could come to us about anything, come to me about anything. It’s never nothing if it’s something that affects you this much, so don’t try and tell me that it wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

I could hear the sorrow in Sam’s voice, and decided I needed to say something. “Sam, I’ve been hiding my fears from the world for as long as I can remember, don’t beat yourself up for not noticing. If Dean hadn’t walked in on me while I was having an attack, you and Dean still wouldn’t know. I’m a hunter, I don’t have time for fears or weaknesses which is exactly what my panic attacks are.”

“No!” The sudden, loud voice startled both Sam and I. Looking over to the door we saw Dean sheepishly peeking around the door after realizing he had given himself away.

“Dean! How long have you been hiding at the door?” I was mortified by the thought that Dean heard everything that had been said.

“Ever since Sam sent me away but I figured you might want something to drink so I brought you some water?” He ended his statement as a question, holding up the glass of water while rubbing the back of his neck with the other hand. Seeing him look like a toddler in trouble made me laugh before I could stop myself. Sam joined me as the sight of his brother finally processed in his mind. Dean gave us both an offended look before suddenly smiling ruefully as he walked over to sit on the bed with us.

Once I had control of my laughter Dean handed me the glass and I gratefully took a sip before setting it on the bedside table and turning to look at him. “So, care to share why you decided you out yourself?”

“You aren’t weak. Sam and I hadn’t noticed anything before today, and you were an amazing hunter even before you started joining us on hunts. You obviously have figured out a way to either get through them on your own or control them. That isn’t a weakness. And now that Sammy and I know about this, you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here to help you. We want to help you.”

His comments about my hunting abilities made me blush before the rest of his little speech sunk in. “Wait, you want me to keep hunting with you? Even though you know how much of a freak I am now?”

“Y/N, you’re not a freak. You’re an amazing person. Being scared of something doesn’t make you weak. Being able to overcome it and keep going despite it all makes you a stronger person, and an awesome hunter.” Sam spoke up from behind me, tightening his arms around me to hug me close.

“Plus I saw how Sam helped stop your attack. If I tried to say you had to leave I’m pretty sure Sam would try to kick my ass.” Dean smirked as he revealed just how much he had seen, his smirk grew wider as Sam and I both started to blush.

“Yeah, definitely called that one from a mile off. You two are so -” Dean’s sentence was cut off as Sam and I both threw pillows at him, effectively stopping his smug gloating. “Fine, if that’s how you two want to be, I’m going to go eat some pie, and neither of you can have any!” Pretending to ignore us Dean walked to the door, but stopped and turned around before he entirely left the room.

“But seriously Y/N, anytime you want or need to talk, if Sam isn’t available, you know where to find me. Please let us help you, you are not alone.” Giving me a genuine smile he closed the door softly behind him.

“He’s right you know, you aren’t alone. I’m definitely here for you.” Sam’s voice was soft but steady.

Turning in his arms I wiggled around until I was laying down on my bed and looked up at him expectantly. “Gonna lay down with me?”

Grinning at my blunt invitation Sam toed off his boots and then slid into the bed, reaching over and grabbing me to pull me close again.

“I love you Y/N, don’t hide from me anymore. I want to help you.”

“I know Sammy. I’ll try to talk to you both about it more, try to let you know when I’m starting to have issues or feel an attack starting.” I curled into his touch and relaxed in the warmth he was generating.

“And Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.”

[amorluzymelodia]

hello, I'm not sure if you're still writing, or if you're even comfortable with writing this, but could you write something based off in "Imagine your Uncle Sammy and your Dad Dean walking on you trying to overdose on pills" from the twsupernaturalimagines blog?

I’m definitely still writing! And I will totally write this for you! If you want to come off anon I’ll send you a message when it’s posted, but I won’t reveal your identity to anyone! But you don’t have to at all!

Master list can be found here

Ao3 account can be found here

Want to request something? 

[storiesbydaniela]

Safe Haven

Author: Moi

Imagine: Imagine waking up from a nightmare about your past and Dean rubbing your back until you fall asleep.

Word Count:2634

Summary: You have the same nightmare that you’ve always had and wake up to Dean, your rock.

Warnings: nightmare (including seeing parents getting murdered and almost dying)

You peeked out under the door, eyes staring at the dark shadows being casted by the lights only a few feet away from you. You kept your eyes on them as they moved quickly around the room. By all the shuffling and huffing it sounded like they were going through your parents stuff looking for something. You didn’t know what but wrapped your tiny fingers around the blue crystal necklace that your mom gave you, finding comfort in the cool stone. You felt your mind tugging back to where your mom now laid, dead, next to your father in the living room.

The men searching the room had killed them after they didn’t answer their questions. You had been hiding on the stairs, peeking at the scene below, watching and waiting for your parents to use their superpowers to send these bad men away but they didn’t. You watched as one man slit your parents throats after his frustration had taken over and angrily yelled into the night. You felt your world crumple to the ground when your parents’ lifeless bodies collapse to the floor with a thud. You wanted nothing more but to run to them at that moment, to beg them to wake up, but you didn’t get a chance. The two men soon began planning their next actions.

“How are we supposed to find it now?” The man who didn’t kill your parents, huffed.

“I don’t know,” the other grunted, “we’ll figure something out. It could still be here for all we know.”

“So we just turn the house upside down hoping we find it?” The first questioned, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“If we don’t bring something back, boss will be pissed. So yeah, let’s start looking for something and hope he can’t tell a difference.”

They then started moving around your parents’ bodies, carelessly stepping on them as if they were an ugly rug. They scrounged the living room, but when they didn’t find anything they moved on to other parts of the house. You snapped out of your trance of watching your parents’ murderers as they began edging their way closer to the stairs. You quickly and quietly moved to your parents room, creeping along the wall to avoid the creaky floorboards. Once in the room, you ran over to your parents closet door and hid within it. It was dark, the only light peeking from under the door from the lamp on your parent's bedside table.

You flinched every time you heard a crash of furniture or a frustrated yell from the one guy. You hoped they would leave and not venture upstairs but those hopes were quickly diminished when you heard them stomping up the stairs and into the first room. That was your room and guessed the guy wasn’t caring about how loud he was being as he screamed, throwing something at the wall. You let out a small whimper when it crashed on impact. You wouldn’t stand a chance against these people if they found you. That thought alone made you look around the closet for something, whether to hide behind or to use against them. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much except a couple pairs of shoes and old purses that were your mom’s.

Your ears perked up when you heard the men grumble as they walked into your parents’ room and start tearing the place apart. That’s how you ended up where you were now, sneaking glances underneath the door as the moved about the room. Your breath hitched when one moved closer to the closet, almost opening it but stopping when the other let out what sounded like a victory yell.

“I think I found it!” He called. He stood by your mother’s dresser, holding her jewelry box in one hand and a necklace in the other. It was one similiar to the one you had on now, a blue crystal.

However there was one major difference between the two necklaces. The one the bad guy was holding was the one you had growing up and would wear when your friends came over for playdates. The one you wore now was to protect you from all the bad things that your parents said were out there.

“Are you sure?” The one close to you asked, his voice hoarse from all his yelling.

You quieted your breathing, not wanting to give him even more of a reason to open the door. Your hands started to shake due to all the nerves and your sweaty hands brought your crystal up to your lips. You kissed the cool stone, praying to the Gods for help.

“Yeah, it’s just how the boss described it.” The other one answered, pocketing the fake.

“Good, let’s blow this joint.”

The first one nodded before stopping, “What about the kid?”

Your eyes widened as your breathing stopped altogether. Please just leave me alone! You thought. Just go away!

“What kid?”

“There’s a room down the hall set up for a kid.”

“Must be having a slumber party with some of their little friends.” You could hear the impatience lacing his voice and even more so when he snapped at his partner. “Who cares? We’ve got the damn necklace now let’s go!”

You heard the retreat from the room and slowly released the breath that you had been holding. You leaned against the back of the closet, letting your silent tears slide down your face. The reality of the situation sinking in. Your parents were gone and you were alone. You had no one left.

You felt your body go rigid when you heard footsteps come back up the stairs then into your parents’ room followed by a sloshing sound as liquid was being tossed all around the room. Once the man declared the room satisfactory, he left moving away from the room but continuing to pour whatever everywhere. You inched your way closer to the door to get a whiff of what the man has poured and felt your nose scrunch up at the smell. It reminded you of road trips with your parents when you would travel cross country.

“You good?” You heard one man call to the other before his replied with a “yeah!”

You then heard a whoosh followed by sudden light and heat coming from the other side of the door. They were setting your house on fire. With you still in it. You were going to burn alive.

You rushed to the closet door trying to open it only to get frustrated when it wouldn’t budge. It was as if it had been glued shut. What was once your safe haven now became your death trap.

“No, no, no...” You whispered, pushing harder against the door but your efforts were pointless because it stayed closed. You then began pounding on the door suddenly not caring if those men heard you and came back for you. You didn’t want to die this way.

“Help!” You cried, your fists throbbing as you continued hitting the door. You saw smoke start creeping its way into your space and knew it wouldn’t be too long now. “Please! Someone help me!” You felt your body begin shaking only to realize that you had started crying harder. “Help! Please!” You begged to no one. You fell to your knees in defeat as you felt your lungs to clog with the smoke. You tried gasping for breath only to start coughing. You body shook as you continued hitting the door weakly. You called out for help between coughs and gasps but knew that there wasn’t anyone to help you. No matter how hard that thought was for you, you couldn’t just give up, you had to fight even though the end was coming. Even you, a small child, knew that gruesome fact. You leaned your head against the door trying to push away the dizzy and tired feelings overtaking your mind. This was it. You took a shallow breath and closed your eyes, waiting for it. For the end.

As you waited you thought it was just your childish imagination overtaking you, but you soon started to hear your name being called in the distance. Your eyes shot open and you focused on your surroundings, soon recognizing the new scenery as your room at the bunker. You laid in your bed with the sheets thrown every which way and a certain someone hovering over you, fear and concern evident in his eyes.

“Dean?” You croaked, staring into his emerald eyes. You suddenly became hyper aware of your physical state as you felt a combination of tears and sweat on your face, red marks along your arms, along with a heaving chest from your racing heartbeat.

“It’s me, Y/N. You’re okay.” he assured, gentle moving the strands of hair that clung to your forehead. He cupped your face softly with his hands and stared at you.

You were still shaking and you felt your eyes tear up again. Before you could even really think about it, you threw yourself into his arms and fisted his shirt in your hands, trying to get as close as you could to him. You cried into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around you pulling you completely into his embrace.

You didn’t know when but ever since you had met the Winchesters, the elder one became some type of safe haven for you. Especially when you kept having the same nightmare over and over again, no matter how long ago it happened. You always felt bad for waking him up in middle of the night due to them, but he always told you that it was okay. That he would feel better knowing you were okay or at least feeling better afterwards. It was one of the many reasons he had moved your room right next to his. That way he could get to you faster if you needed him, which you definitely did right now.

Your sobs calmed down to sniffles after a couple minutes but you still didn’t move and you knew Dean wouldn’t unless you gave him the okay. You cringed against his chest when you heard footsteps come down the hall and stop at your door. That meant either your cries and yells were louder than usual or that your dream had progressed farther than what you or Dean wanted. The image of the closet door with fire surrounding it that was imprinted on the back of your eyelids proved, it was most likely the latter.

Dean always tried to get to you before that point but sometimes he either didn’t hear your soft whimpers or wasn’t in his room. But he always tried to prevent you from having to relive that nightmare more than you had to.

“Is she okay?” Sam questioned from the doorway.

Even though Sam was usually the more emotional Winchester, he didn’t know how to handle you like this. You chalked it off to the fact that you and Dean had a more close knit friendship than you did with Sam. You were still friends with the younger Winchester but he didn’t know your entire past. Not like Dean.

Dean peeked down at where your face was buried in his chest, you drawing imaginary patterns into his shirt with your finger. You had stopped crying by then but Dean knew by the look in your eyes that you were tired from the nightmare. He knew from personal experience what you were feeling right now. Fear of seeing the images flash in your eyelids if you closed them too long, but he also saw the exhaustion in your eyes from the adrenaline drop after the nightmare.

He looked back at his brother before answering, “She will be.”

Sam sighed and nodded. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

He then turned and left the doorway, leaving Dean to look back down at you. He moved one hand down to your chin to tilt your face to him. You saw the worry in his eyes and had to refrain from breaking down in tears again. You swallowed hard and focused on the here and now. You were safe. You were with Dean. And he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

“It was the same one.”

You knew that Dean was saying it as more of a statement rather than a questioned, but still nodded confirming it. You always hoped that you’d have a different nightmare at least once. But it never was. Never.

Dean gave you a sad smile before pressing his cool lips to your clammy forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling, feeling yourself calm some at the gesture. You and Dean had never been anything more than friends but you didn’t care. He comforted you more than anyone-any partner, lover, or friend-ever had before. He knew what it was like to relive your nightmare of a life every time you tried to get a decent amount of sleep. And for that you knew he had become some sort of rock for you. Someone to keep you grounded. Someone to keep you anchored and someone to make sure your made it back to solid ground when you would drift away.

When he pulled away, you opened your eyes to see that his had tears glistening in them. You had only seen this man cry a couple times before and knew that whatever was going on through his mind right now must have been weighing on him.

You were about to ask him what was wrong when he rubbed his hand over his face, clearing his throat. “Come one, let’s lay down.”

You felt your eyes widen slightly but hesitantly laid down with Dean. He kept his arms around you as you moved next to him, placing your head on his arm. He knew you wouldn’t go to sleep just yet but also knew that you didn’t want to be alone so the two of you just enveloped yourselves in each other. You breathed in Dean’s scent, finding peace in it even though you could never find a single word to describe his smell. It was a mixture of his mint soap along with a hint of his spicy musk. You just breathed it in and felt yourself relax into his arms, snuggling further into his chest.

When Dean felt you settle into his arms, he knew that was step one to getting you back to sleep. Next he tangled his hand that was on your hip, into your hair where he softly pulled your head to his lips. He then kissed your forehead before letting you nestle your face into his neck. Step two complete. The last step was to rub your back until you feel asleep. This step could take anywhere from a few minutes to an hour or even longer. For anyone else Dean wouldn’t take the time to make sure they felt safe and comfortable, but to Dean, you weren’t just anyone. You meant more to him than anyone in the world, sometimes even more than Sam. He knew he would never admit it out loud to anyone but he knew and he was pretty sure you knew most of the time.

You felt yourself nodding off to sleep to Dean rubbing your back and knew that it wouldn’t be long until you fell asleep again. But you weren’t scared of falling asleep this time, not with Dean around you, holding you, keeping you safe. Before you completely submitted to sleep you quickly and softly kissed Dean’s neck, silently saying, “Thank you. Thank you for saving me.”

You felt Dean’s arms squeeze you to him in response before he kissed your hair and whispered into it. “Goodnight Y/N.”

[latexcondoms]

for those of you who don't know, i'm on the author list for twsupernaturalimagine  just fyi :)

[twsupernaturalimagine]

Please [Don’t] Touch Me

Title: Please [Don’t] Touch Me

Author: Jenna

Original Imagine: Imagine being reluctant to other people’s touch and finally giving your first hug to the boys

Warnings: vague mentions of verbal/physical abuse, vague mention of attempted suicide, brief violence, swearing

Word Count: 2,652

Fic:

        "Here it comes, Y/N!“ you hear Sam call from deep within the depths of the thick forest somewhere in southern Kentucky. You, Sam, and Dean had come to the southern state interested in a particular case that you’d later learned involved an old vampire covenant. You’d been able to kill off a couple of the blood-suckers earlier in the evening, but the head honcho had yet to be found…until now. You stiffen at Sam’s call just in time to catch the vampire as it comes flying at you with Sam a few yards behind. You pin him down easily and are quick to take the stake you had in hand and plunge into his chest. The vampire hisses and spits at you, but his movements are weak. Blood pools from the wound in his chest but from his spastic kicks and punches you can tell it’s not deep enough to kill him.

          "Stand back,” orders Dean as he comes up behind you with a large stake in hand. You don’t move from your position and instead focus your strength on holding the flailing vampire down.

          Dean rolls his eyes at your refusal to move and instead takes the second stake and uses it as a hammer to jam your stake in deeper. The vampire leader gives one last sputtering cough, sending flecks of dark red blood on your face which makes you want to heave.

          “Good job, Y/N!” Sam calls as he rushes up to meet you and Dean. You can’t help but blush at his praise. Despite having a knife in one hand and stake with dried blood covering the point in the other, you feel your heart flutter as he smiles at you.

          “Good work boys,” you say.

          “Good work yourself,” replies Dean.

          You follow the two out of the forest you’d chased the coven leader into. At the edges of the woods you see the small cabin where the coven leader and his followers had been bunking. Sam and Dean are quick to work grabbing gasoline from Baby and setting the little cabin ablaze.

          “Just in case,” says Dean when he catches the confused look on your face, “Maybe one of the fuckers is asleep in the walls, who knows? Better to just burn it all to be safe.”

          “Sounds like something a serial arsonist would say,” you tease. He laughs.

          Once the cabin had burned to ashes and the boys had checked that there wasn’t a chance of a flame sprouting out and igniting the forest, the three of you pile into Baby and argue over where to go for post-hunt celebration dinner.

          You and Sam win out with McDonalds much to Dean’s dismay (he’d wanted Chinese), and with Sam at the wheel, you in the passenger seat, and Dean spread out in the back, you drive down the long country roads in search of a motel and a pair of golden arches.

          Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take you long to find a McDonalds. You can’t help but feel somewhat comforted by the familiar glow of the neon in the windows as you enter. No matter what state lines you crossed or what part of the country you were in, there was always a McDonalds somewhere that made you feel at home.

          “Oh Sammy, look!” Dean snorts as he motions towards a large cardboard cutout of Ronald McDonald. You almost cough up a lung when you feel Sam stiffen beside you.

          “He’s coming for you, Sammy.”

          You shoot Dean a look of absolute joy as the two of you watch Sam hustle past the cardboard cutout and into the store.

          “Y/N?” Sam asks an hour later with his hand poised over the two large fries the three of you’d ordered. The three of you are squeezed into a booth. You’re squished beside Dean, facing Sam who looks at you expectantly.

          “Mmm?” you reply around a large chunk of hamburger. Dean snorts.

          “Today’s the fifth,” he continues, the expression on his face suggesting that there’s something important about this information.

          You cock your head, unsure and unwilling to risk a guess, “Okay?”

          Sam sighs and shakes his head with a smile, “You joined up with us on this day one year ago!”

          Dean perks up beside you, “Hey! That’s right!” He outstretches his arms and leans towards you, “Can’t believe it’s been that long, can you Y/N?” Instinctively you lean back, but Dean doesn’t seem to get the message. The closer he gets, the farther you lean until you can feel yourself tumble out of the booth.

          You hit the ground with a thump and a “Shit!” The few other customers turn to look at the commotion and an old man in a wrinkled polo gives you a disgruntled look in response to your language. You fight the urge to flip him off.

          “Oh! Y/N!” You hear Sam move out of the booth and feel his warm, calloused hands grip your small, cold ones.

          “Fuck Y/N, you alright?” Dean asks. You wonder what kind of look the old man’s giving now.

          You let Sam pull you to your feet. You sway a bit and put a hand to your head. Despite the pain, there’s no blood.

          “You hit your head pretty hard there,” Sam remarks.

          “Shit, did I startle you?” Dean asks, his tone worried, “I thought we were past that.”

          You shake your head (which just makes the developing headache even worse but you ignore it) and put up hands in surrender. “No! No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” You bite your lip as you watch a look of confusion pass over their faces. Sam opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it.

          "I’m sorry I- I just have a thing with touch. I was caught off guard that’s all.”

          “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know…”

          “How could you?” you ask, “Don’t apologize, Dean. I’ve never mentioned it before. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

          The three of you are quiet for a moment. The customers seem to have gotten past your spectacle and their background chatter is a comforting distraction from the awkward silence that passes between the three of you.

          “I-Is it because your father?” Sam asks, his tone apprehensive.

          “I’d rather not go into this right now,” you reply, your hands clasped together against your chest, eyes focused on your worn out shoes on the checkered tile.

          “Alright.”

          Wordlessly, Sam and Dean gather your garbage and toss the remaining scraps. You follow the two of them back out to Baby and crawl into the backseat. You don’t want to talk, just want to lay your head down.

          “Wait!” Sam says suddenly and he darts from the passenger seat back inside. He returns quickly with a bottled water and two Advil tablets which, upon re-entering Baby, he hands back to you. You gratefully take the pills as Sam settles back into the passenger seat and Dean starts the engine.

          You watch the scenery go by as Baby exits the McDonalds and heads out back onto the country roads.

          “We should find a place for the night,” Dean remarks and you and Sam nod in agreement. It’s gotten dark since you’d entered the McDonalds. Before there’d been a little later afternoon/early evening, but now there was nothing but the glow of the road lights and the moon.

          “Dean?” you ask. It’s been two hours since you departed from the McDonalds and the three of you had yet to find any place to crash for the night. The roads were empty. You couldn’t even find any stops for gas in the last couple of miles. You were beginning to wonder if you’d end up spending the night in the Impala.

          “Hm,” Dean replies, as he glances at you reflection in the rear view mirror.

          “Sam.“

          “Yeah.”

          You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

          “Y/N,” the two chorus, both sounding very tired. “Don’t be.”

          “I just…” you start, “I’m sorry, we were having such a good night and I ruined it bein’ all weird with my sensory stuff.”

          “You didn’t ruin it,” says Dean.

          “I just wish we’d known sooner,” Sam adds, “I just keep thinking of all the situations we’d put you in where you must’ve felt weird…” He trails off and the three of you fall into silence.

          “You’re right you know,” you say after a few exit signs have passed, “It’s because of my dad.”

          A year ago the Winchester boys had come into your life and changed it for the better. You’d been a college dropout, nineteen years old with nowhere to go but home. Your father was wealthy in assets, poor in affection. He was bad to you. Treated you like an object he’d have dressed up for occasions or appearances, but ignored and starved for attention anytime else. Whenever he touched you it was because he wanted something. A hug meant he needed you to pay off his debts, a goodnight kiss on the cheek a promise that’d he’d use you as collateral in the coming weeks.

          Despite his money, his favorite thing to bet was you. Whether it be your body, your mind, or your companionship. He gladly offered it anyone who’d take you. You were an object to him. Something that he owned. His affection meant he wanted something in return.

          College had been a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty and regret. Finally you were free from his clutches and there was nothing he could do or say save hoping you’d flunk out. But scholarships can only take you so far and it was hard to handle the workload. Three months in and you were done. Depression. Anxiety. Fear of failure. Why try?

          Instead of returning to your father with your tail between your legs, you decided to take your own life. There was a bridge near campus that led across the water to a small island owned by some wealthy folks in the area. The bridge was high, the weather cool and the water freezing. You thought it’d be a quick and relatively painless way to die and you almost had too…

          Apparently the “wealthy folks in the area” were making their money off some kind of strange paranormal game complete with spirits and the occult and you never got the whole story from the boys but apparently it was a clusterfuck. Anyway, one of these wealthy folks had been possessed that night and running across the bridge followed closely by a very tried, very worn out Sam who just happened to see you standing on the ledge deliberating your choices.

          It was dark out and thinking you were the person he was after, he tackled you to the ground. You remember fighting him, throwing punches and kicks (a few of which had landed but not done much), but finally stopping when he grabbed your fists and got a good look at you in the moonlight.

          “Huh,” he’d said, “You don’t look like someone whose been possessed by a thousand year old ghost.”

          And you were so stressed and so confused that you’d started laughing until you were crying. And Sam had stayed there holding your wrists while you sobbed into his neck well into the night and long after Dean had handled set the bones of the possessed old folk ablaze.

          You’d refused to leave Sam’s side and begged the boys to take you with them. When questioned why you’d want to go with complete strangers you told them your story (leaving out some details) and the two had relented figuring that taking you on one hunt would scare you off for good…but it’d hadn’t.

          “You guys know I’m thankful for you, right? And for everything you’ve done for me?”

          “Aw, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” says Dean. He doesn’t turn back to look at you when he says it and instead continues focusing forward but you can see the corner of lips lift up in a teasing smile.

          You snort, “Dean.”

          Sam reaches back and takes one of your hand in his and squeezes. You quickly recoil, “I’m sorry I made dinner weird.”

          “Y/N,” say Sam, stern brown eyes catching your attention, “Everything we do is weird.”

          “Hell,” adds Dean, “You’ve only been around for a year. Trust me. It’s gonna get weirder.”

          A small laugh escapes your throat which is scratchy and dry. You feel a small stream of tears roll down your cheek. A warm feeling sits in your belly. You want to jump the seat and wrap your arms around the boys, but you keep this want at bay.

          “Y/N?” asks Sam, his tone worried as he watches tear after tear roll down your face. Noticing Sam’s change in tone, Dean pulls Baby over to the shoulder and turns off the ignition. Baby shutters to a stop and you’re left in the Impala with both the Winchester’s eyes on you.

          “I have a thing with touch,” you start softly. “I-I think it’s because whenever I was shown affection it was because somebody wanted something so…I dunno…affection feels weird…fake?”

          Sam nods, “Like there’s no point. It doesn’t feel real, it feels like somebody is playing you?”

          “Basically.”

          “Sorry Y/N,” says Dean and you’re quick to put your free hand to his cheek.

          “Dean,” you say, “Don’t be. You didn’t know…” You trail off, choosing your next words carefully, “I know I’ve been kind of vague about what my father was like. I told you it was bad, but never really gave specifics…”

          The two nod in confirmation.

          You continue, “But he was never honest with me. Everything felt like a trick and I was scared…” You pull your hand away from Dean and remark, “I feel safest when I’m with you two. But even now…” The steady stream of tears has grown heavier now and you can feel snot building up in your nose. “…I’m still afraid of contact. And that’s unfair to you two because you trust me and I love you two and…”

          Sam turns away from you and steps out of Baby, moving the seat back. Then he’s next to you, his big, bulky shoulders digging into you as he squeezes in the back. He motions to your hands which now sit clasped in your lap.

          “Do you want to be touched?” he asks and you nod without thinking.

          “I’m tired of being afraid,” you say.

          Sam holds out a hand to you and you tentatively place your hand in his. He squeezes and you squeeze back.

          “That’s not so bad,” you say.

          Dean chuckles as he watches you two, “Well now I feel left out.” He exits the front seat and pulls open the backdoor on your other side.

          “Dean,” warns Sam as the elder Winchester gently shoves you toward Sam. “Touch. We’re starting slow.”

          “It’s alright,” you whisper softly, “It’s nice.”

          Dean squeezes in next to you, turning the backseat into a sandwich with you as the center. The boys are warm and comforting. There’s a feeling of rising anxiety in your belly but you force it back down.

          “We love you Y/N,” Sam says softly.

          “Really?”

          “Of course,” replies Dean. “And you know I don’t say that easily.” Sam chuckles at that.

          You nibble your lip and lean closer into Sam. Finally, you bite the bullet and wrap your arms around his neck. He gives a soft “oh!” as you bury you face into his neck, but he doesn’t push you away. You fee his strong, tanned arms wrap around your waist and you’re quick to wiggle away and turn on Dean instead. You repeat your hug, but quickly pull away before they can respond. You worry you’ve hurt their feelings but a swift glance at each of their faces reveals nothing of the sort.

          In fact, when you pull away from Dean, he’s beaming.

          “How do you feel?”

          You return Dean’s grin. “It’s a start,” you say.

[twsupernaturalimagine]

anon

[twsupernaturalimagine]

Title: Never In Fact Homeless

Author: Abby (amorluzymelodia)

Summary: Imagine being homeless and meeting TFW 

Warnings: homelessness, attempted rape, wounded reader, swearing

Word Count: 2,162

Fic:

“Alright, freeloader time to move it along.” Something hard poked you in the side. “C’mon girl you can’t sleep here.” The cop shoved his nightstick deeper into your side and you rolled over, shielding your eyes against the sunlight.

“Okay, okay.” You grumbled, getting off the bench. The cop watched to make sure you got to the outskirts of the park and continued on his way.

You huddled inside your grimy flannel shirt, grateful for the sliver of warmth it provided. You’d acquired it when a particularly righteous Christian mother had given it to you rather than sell it in a yard sale or give it to GoodWill. Of course she probably bought herself a brand new coat from Burlington to celebrate her good deed, leaving you thankful but freezing nonetheless. 

You’d been homeless for about three and a half years now, and were used to the looks people gave you when they handed you something. Their intentions were usually good but hidden by pity and disgust, their skin crawling for every moment they talked to you. So you were used to the second glances people gave you, or the way their eyes skipped over you completely.

You made your way out of the park and into the rush of the city, hoping to find somewhere to get at least a free bottle of water or some leftovers from some of the shops downtown. It was getting closer to winter and you were already freezing, having barely any body fat to keep you warm. You felt the judgmental, pity-filled glances thrown your way and bowed your head, your hair ruffled by the wind.

“Oh excuse me miss, I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” A man bumped into you, his trench coat flying about in the wind. “Are you okay?” He asked and you were shocked to see concern in his eyes.

Most people ignored you or yelled if you bumped into them but he was checking to make sure you were alright, and looking like he meant it. You nodded. “I’m fine,” you said and he nodded seriously.

“Well, take care.” He said in his gravelly voice and smiled at you, and kept walking. As you watched him go you noticed he’d dropped something when he’d run into you; his wallet. 

Now, you knew how to pickpocket, in fact you were pretty damn good at it. But in this rare instance you running into him was a complete accident. Had he dropped the wallet on purpose to see if you’d take it? Did he really not notice it was gone? You picked it up and peeked inside. No driver’s license, no credit card, only a few hundred dollars in twenties and a picture of him with a woman and young girl–presumably his wife and daughter. Why would he keep that in his wallet but no driver’s license? 

You hesitated. If he had really dropped it on accident then it would be a while before he realized it was gone, and you’d be long gone by then. Even if he gave your description to the cops there were so many places you could be and one stolen wallet would hardly turn a cops head. You could take it and finally eat, buy a coat or pair of shoes, rent a room for a night maybe. The possibilities were tantalizing.

But something stopped you. This man had been kind to you, had asked if you were alright, looked you in the eyes–which no one had done in God knows how long. This man had something so inherently good about him, and you hadn’t seen that in anyone before. It was like there was literally a light coming off of him, pulling you in. He hadn’t looked at you like a homeless girl or a tramp, but as a person; a human being. And that right there made your mind up for you.

“Hey!” You called, running to catch up with him. “Sir wait! You dropped something!” He turned as you got to him and you held out the wallet. “I think this is yours.” You said breathlessly and he crinkled his eyes, taking it from you.

“Oh yes,” he mused. “Why you all insist on carrying these around baffles me, but Dean assures me it’s normal.”

You didn’t understand what he was saying but nodded anyway. “Well uh, there you go anyway.“ 

As you made to turn around he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. “Wait,” he said and you wondered if he knew his voice was that deep, and seemed to draw the attention of everyone within earshot. “Here,” he opened the wallet and handed you three twenty dollar bills. “For food. I understand humans need quite a lot of it and you look as though you’ve skipped a few meals.”

He was speaking in riddles again but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the money in your hand and the kindness of this stranger. 

“Um, thanks uh…” You paused and he said nothing. “Usually when someone pauses like that they’re waiting for you to say your name.”

He nodded seriously. “I am Castiel.”

“Well thanks, Castiel.” You said and after a moment of penetrating stare he nodded and turned, leaving you standing there in shock. 

With the money he’d given you you bought a man’s army coat from an army surplus shop, a used pair of chuck Taylor’s that at least didn’t have holes in the sole, and a sandwich and water bottle from the local deli. You put the rest of the cash in your pocket and walked around the park, trying to find somewhere to sleep that the cops wouldn’t kick you out of.

As you wandered around you felt someone following you and turned, seeing a man in his thirties dressed in a cheap suit and large coat, obviously having just gotten off work.

“Hey darlin,” he called and you rolled your eyes. “Going my way?”

“Nope,” you spat and continued on your way.

“Okay well how much would it take to make you say yes?” He asked, catching up with you and taking hold of your arm.

“Not anything you have, mate.” You hissed but he held tight.

“C'mon babe I know you could use the money. I’ll be in and out, no muss, no fuss.” He slurred and you shoved his arm.

“I don’t need it that bad.” You hissed, making to walk away but he grabbed you, whipping you around forcefully. 

“Hey!” He growled. “I don’t take no for an answer." 

"Learn to.” You hissed.

You saw the look in his eyes and knew you had seconds. So you kneed him in the stomach and took off running. Unfortunately you hadn’t eaten more than a sandwich in a few days so you were slow. He caught up with you quickly and grabbed the back of your jacket. He pulled you so your back was against his chest and you felt the blade of a knife press against your side.

“You can make this easy or hard,” he hissed. “But I’m not paying, not now."

"Hey!” You heard a gruff voice yell. “Let her go!” Your captor turned and you took your chance.

You stomped on his foot hard and he loosened his grip, making it easy for you to slip out of the jacket sleeves and take off running. His knife grazed your side as you took off but you kept running. You heard him chasing after you, but you knew this park well and slipped underneath a few bushes where the sewer lines ran. You were small enough–what with being malnourished–that you could fit between the grate easily. You heard him calling but eventually he seemed to realize the chase wasn’t worth it and he stomped off. 

You sat in the filth, catching your breath and waited. You heard another set of footsteps come and go but then it was silent. You huddled and reveled in the fact that not only had you lost your new jacket but also the rest of the money and the water bottle. Your side hurt and you felt the blood loss starting to affect you. After about ten minutes you crawled out and dusted yourself off, making your way towards the local dive, shivering without your jacket.

The bar wasn’t extravagant or well known but you knew the bartender and he always treated you kindly. He’d even offered to get you a job but the owner said under no circumstances would he allow someone like you to work in his establishment. Not that he was ever there but you didn’t want Colten to lose his job because of you.

The bell rang over the door as you entered and you noted the lack of patrons, which wasn’t unusual. There was old Flint Hurley who came in twice a week, a few tourists who were obviously in the wrong place, a heavily made up woman and her businessman “friend” and a pair of attractive men in cheap suits near the back.

Colten greeted you as you came in and slid a beer down your way. You thanked him and held your side, feeling the hot sticky blood seep through your clothes.

“I’m gonna need something stronger than this.” You whispered and his eyes got wide.

“Shit.” He hissed and called for the ______ to take over while he helped you into the back room.

As he got out a needle and dental floss–which he kept on hand when you’d come in with lacerations more than a few times–you opened a bottle of whiskey and took a hearty swig.

“Hey watch it,” he warned. “I’ve got patrons I need to serve that to.”

You huffed a laugh, ignoring the pain. “Oh I’m sorry is there another bar you’re running? Because far as I can see I’m the only one who actually gives a damn about this shithole."

He smiled and lifted up your shirt. "Well that might be true but without this shithole who would take you?”

He’d meant it as a joke but his words hit home and your grin fell. He noticed and immediately looked down.

“Sorry Y/N,” he said quietly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

You shrugged and motioned to your side. “How’s it look?”

“It’ll only need a few stitches, you should be fine. What happened this time?”

“Some asshole didn’t know the meaning of no.” You winced as he poured some whiskey over the wound and began sewing it up. 

“You’ve gotta be careful, Y/N.” He said seriously. “I mean what if something worse happens? I care about you but I’m not always gonna be here to patch you up.”

“I know, Colt.” You murmured and decided to change the subject. “How is Sylvia?”

A smile lit his face at the mention of his wife. “She’s good. Eight months along and still going strong.” He paused. “We started marriage counseling a few months ago." 

"Colt that’s great! Does that mean she knows–?”

He shook his head. “I told her nothing happened.”

“Good because nothing did. We got drunk, I told you my pathetic life story. You felt bad for me and kissed me, you stopped it. That’s it."

Colt shrugged, looking awkward. "I still feel guilty.”

“Don’t,” you assured him. “Sylvia is amazing, and you’ve got a baby on the way. Don’t let some tramp ruin that.”

He looked up at you, smiling sadly as he finished the stitches. “You’re not a tramp.”

“Tramp, whore, bum, addict. They’re all the same, take your pick. Long story short I’m a homeless mess." 

Colt patted you on the shoulder and looked like he wanted to say something else so you quickly pulled your shirt down and hopped off the table.

"Thanks for patching me up.” You told him. “I hope everything goes well with Sylvia." 

"I’ll keep you posted,” Colt said and gave you a hug, handing you a water bottle and some weird pasty thing that would at least keep you from starving. “Stay safe.”

You nodded and made your way out of the back room, waving to Colt before leaving the bar. The wind had picked up and now that the sun was down it had dropped almost ten degrees. You huddled in your flannel and walked around the park, trying to find a place to sleep. Just as you passed the bench you’d been kicked off of that morning you noticed a lump sitting on it. Upon closer inspection you recognized your old army coat. Hesitantly you approached, wondering if the pervert from before was playing some game with you, but there was no one in sight. Instead there was a piece of paper pinned to the coat and in very elegant handwriting was a note, with four twenties attached.

*You returned my wallet, so I’m returning your coat, and the money you lost. Stay safe. -Castiel*

[supernaturalimagine]

okay so i remember this fic from yesrs ago but i cannot find it for the life of me. basically reader is s+d little sis and shes feels suicidal and starts to write a suicide note on her laptop but then dean comes in the room amd demands to see her laptop so he takes it and she locks herself in the bathroom and they find her in the bathrub crying after he reads it panicked and yeah if you have any idea of this fic pls link

Hello hello hello!

SO I believe I found the right fic. It's on our other blog @twsupernaturalimagine and it's called "Misery" by @doomedbrothers.

Here's a link to it on our blog, or you can check it out on theirs here!

(Since this is our regular blog, I'm gonna go ahead and give a trigger warning for suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation, self-harm, depression, and negative self-talk.)

Hope you're doing okay m'dear. Enjoy the fic!

~ Clarence 🐸

[supernaturalimagine]

Update 05/11/2022

Howdy howdy y’all!

I just wanted to apologize for the lack of posting recently. In my personal life, things have been a bit busy with school and work, so unfortunately there hasn’t been a ton of spare time to keep this blog posting regularly the past couple weeks!

I’m hoping to get back to posting here on Mondays and Fridays, and start publishing imagines for @twsupernaturalimagine this week as well.

If you want to help us out and see more regular content, please send in submissions! We’ve gotten very little since our return, and we can’t post without em! 

Besides that, I want to give a huge thank you for all your support! You guys have all been amazing, so I want to thank you for your patience and your love :)

~Clarence 🐸

[twsupernaturalimagine]

Caught

Author: Sybil (ur-local-cuddlebunny)

Summary: Dean finds out about the readers Self Harm

Warnings: self harm

Word Count: 366

Fic:

You sat there like a deer in headlights, clutching the small blade in your hand so tightly that your knuckles turn white. Tears starting to fall down your cheeks as you mumble “Get out.” quietly.

“Y/N-”

“JUST GET OUT, WINCHESTER!” You yell at him, your breathing heavy. He wasn’t supposed to see. He wasn’t supposed to know. All he was supposed to know was the happy Y/N he fell in love with, but hey, now he’s found out that you’re a freak who cuts herself to cope with the weight of the world on her shoulders, fun!

You hear his footsteps receding, and you let out the sob that’s been aching your throat. He’s gone. He’s gone and it’s all your fault.

You squeeze the blade in your hand tighter, not caring about the blood dripping from your palm.

You attempt to quiet your sobs as you hear him coming back. He sits down beside you, placing a first aid kit on the ground and taking your wrist with his fingers gently, like you were a piece of glass and you would break if he even put the slightest bit of pressure on you.

“Y/N you gotta give me the knife baby, come on,” Dean kisses your forehead, moving some of your hair out of your face. “Please?”

Reluctantly, you let the sharpener blade fall to the ground. Dean pockets it almost immediately; he doesn’t need you grabbing it again out of the blue.

He’s careful while he cleans and dresses your wounds, before helping you out of your blood-stained clothes and leading you to bed. He’ll ask Sam to help him clean the bathroom later.

When you’re both laying down in bed, he keeps his hand around your waist loosely.

“You gotta try and stop doing that sweetheart. If you do something wrong then…” he clears his throat as he trails off. “I can’t lose you, alright? And I can’t have you cutting yourself up like that either. You think you can try and stop for me.”

You laugh dryly. “That’s easier said than done, Dean.”

He kisses your cheek. “I know. But it can’t hurt to try, right?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

[supernaturalimagine]

Update 21/8/2022

Hello everyone! 

My name is Clarence, and I am very excited to make my debut as a new mod for @supernaturalimagine and @twsupernaturalimagine !

I’ve been talking with the lovely Lana about becoming an admin for this blog after reaching out to her about a year ago, and I’m happy to say that we are hoping to work together to bring this blog back. 

A little bit about me: I’m 21 years old, I’m from Canada, my pronouns are they/them, I’m currently in college to become an editor, and I’ve been a part of the Supernatural fandom since 2013. I’ve also followed this blog since around 2014-2015, and have always been enamoured by the wonderfully creative imagines the people come up with! 

This week will likely be spent setting things up for the blog, but by next week, I think we’ll be able to return to a more regular posting schedule. More than anything, I’m beyond excited to see the return of this blog! 

~Clarence 🐸

[storiesbydaniela]

Guardian Demon

Author: Moi

Imagine: http://twsupernaturalimagine.tumblr.com/post/109764506187/anonymous

Word Count: 3260

Summary: After a home visit from the neighborhood crossroad demon, you are taken away from your abusive parents, bounced around foster homes, and then into a loving home.

Warnings: abusive parents, foster and group homes (only mentioned.

“Now Y/N, you’re going to need to stay in here. Your father and I have a business meeting and can’t be bothered. Just play with your toys and don’t make a peep. If you do you know what will happen, right?” You mother asked. You nodded in reply. “Good.” She turned around and shut the dividing doors between the living room and the study isolating you from her and your father.

You walked over to your pile of toys and sat down. You didn’t play with them because you didn’t feel like playing with them afraid that if you got too loud, mommy or daddy would get mad and that was bad. Instead you looked down and studied your legs and arms or more specifically the bruises littering them. Some were a nasty yellow colour while others were a bluish purple.

You knew this meeting must have been important because your parents had been talking about it for the past couple of weeks and drinking more of their adult drinks lately. They also tried to find a way to get you out of the house for the day but all their plans had fallen through.

You heard the doorbell ring throughout the house and knew that their friend was here for the meeting. You heard your dad say a few words to your mom before going to answer the door. “Good evening Mr. Crowley. Please come in. My wife is in the study.”

You heard a grunt from the person before they started moving to join your mother in the study and the meeting began.

“I usually don’t make a house call but since both of you made deals I thought it might be a smart idea.” Mr. Crowley said.

“Of course, of course. Drink?” You father asked. You didn’t hear anything except the clinking of ice into a glass and then your father opening his adult drink cabinet.

“Thank you,” You heard Mr. Crowley reply. “Now Mrs. L/N, you wanted to be able to bare a child and I didn’t start your contract until their birth. How is that deal going for you?”

“If I had known a child would have been such a hassle I wouldn’t have made the deal.” She answered.

Your brow furrowed at her response. Did she not want you anymore? Didn’t she love you enough?

After a long pause Mr. Crowley responded. “Ahuh, I see… And what about you, Mr. L/N? How has your deal been? You wanted the high ranking position at your firm, correct?”

“Yes sir. Um, I’m happy, I guess. I got the woman of my dreams, money, and a nice house.”

“And what do you think of your child?”

“Eh, could have lived without it.”

What? Did he not want your anymore either?

The man hummed in response before saying, “Well after those answers I’d like to check in on the little bugger myself.”

“Why?” Your parents asked quickly. They sounded kind of worried and scared and you didn’t dare move. The air from the other room was thick with tension and you didn’t want to cause anymore trouble.

“The child was apart of the deal. I’d just like to check in on their well being.”

“No. I won’t allow it.” Your father said. He was using the tone he used on your when he was tired of you. The one that was usually followed up with him grabbing you and yelling at you.

“Well that’s too bloody bad. I am the owner of your souls. I can’t touch you because of our deals but I can still make your living lives an early hell.” They didn’t say anything. “Now that, that is all cleared up. Where are they?”

You didn’t hear anything but guessed your parents pointed to the dividing doors because a man you had never met opened the doors and walked in, closing them behind him.

“Hello there. How are you?” He asked softly.

His voice was know completely different from what it was when he was in the other room with your parents. He walked over to where you were sitting still and crouched down. You were scared of what he was going to do to you but with the way he was treating you it eased you a bit.

“What’s your name love?” He questioned.

You quietly replied, “Y/N..”

“Y/N? What a nice name. My name’s Crowley.” He looked over your small body, stopping every couple of seconds when he saw bruises. “Y/N, can you tell me where you got all these bruises?”

You shook your head no. Your Mom and Dad always said that what stays between these four walls doesn’t leave your lips or it would be even worse. It was already pretty bad, you didn’t know if you could take “worse.”

“Did your mother and father do this to you?” He continued. He only got silence as a response. He sighed but kept asking you questions.

“Y/N, do your mother and father love you?”

You looked at Mr. Crowley with a strange face. You tried to think of a time that they told you that they loved you or even showed it. You shook your head no.

Crowley nodded softly. “Y/N, would you like to come with me?”

You had never left the house with someone you just met except your nannies but that was different. It was their jobs to, this man was asking you if you wanted to leave with him just because.

“Where would we go?” You replied, timidly.

“Anywhere away from here.”

You nodded and the both of you got to your feet. He picked your small body up and settled you on his hip. It looked kind of natural for him but at the same time it didn’t. Like he used to do it with his own children but hadn’t in a while. You couldn’t remember the last time one of your parents held you like this but you liked it. You felt somewhat safe in his arms and hoped that your fifth birthday would turn out better than it started.

~~~~

“Mr. Crowley, based on your recommendation to the court, the L/N child will be removed from their home and placed into foster care. The parents are deemed unfit and will serve the next 54 months in prison, per your recommendation as well. I believe that is all for today, court is adjourned.” The judge slammed the gavel down finalizing his words. The loud sound made you jump from your seat beside Mr. Crowley. He stood up and you followed his lead. You placed your hand in his and walked out of the courtroom. He kept walking through the hallways of the large court house until he found one that was deserted then transported the two of you back to his house.

You had been staying here for almost 6 months. Ever since he took you away from your parents, the night of their business meeting with Mr. Crowley. He decided that night that your parents should be punished for what they did to you but said he couldn’t technically do anything because of their deals. So instead he went through the legal system and took your parents to court, pulling a few string to get the case the way he wanted. He said he had a special ending for them. You said you didn’t want to know.

He ended up having to tell you about his powers and what he was. You kind of freaked out that he was a demon but he comforted you by assuring that he would never hurt you, he wanted to protect you. You told him that you once had a nanny who always told you that “Angels were watching over you” so you said he was like a guardian demon then. He chuckled at your connection of the two but accepted the title.

Your time with Crowley had been a lot of fun. He had a couple of his workers build you a swing set in his backyard, played toys with you, and let you watch your kid shows on his big tv in the living room. He was a lot nicer than your parents and showed you the proper way to deal with a child. You knew that since the case was over you wouldn’t be able to stay with him anymore so you kept quiet.

“Now Y/N, you’ll need to go pack your bags. Okay, sweetheart? The social worker will be here soon and you’ll be going with them.” He said, telling you the things you didn’t want to hear.

“Why can’t I stay with you?” You asked. Ever since living with Crowley you hadn’t been so afraid to speak.

“I wish you could darling but this isn’t the place for a child.”

“So you don’t want me either.” You mumbled. It was a statement rather than a question because you knew no one would want to keep you. You felt tears starting to form your eyes and rubbed at them.

Crowley got down on one knee in front of you and took your small hands in his large ones. “Y/N, that is the complete opposite. I would love to have you here but I want to keep you safe. So I have to let them take you.” He gently wiped off some of the tears on your face before kissing your forehead. “How about this, anytime you need or want me just say my name and I’ll come to see you. It’ll be like magic.”

“Doesn’t sound much like magic.” You sniffled. “Can I say ‘Abracadabra Crowley’?”

He smiled softly at you before answering. “Sure thing love.” He kissed your forehead once more before standing up and helping you pack your bags.

~~~~

“Now Mr. Crowley, you were in charge of the child’s well-being during the court process, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And now you would like to legally adopt Y/N?” The judge asked.

“Little stinker kind of grew on me.” He teased.

“Alright then. Let’s fill the proper paperwork out and then we will need to inspect your home to make sure it is still all nice and safe for Y/N.”

——

“So I get to stay this time?” Your now ten-year old self asked Crowley. You were back in his house for the first time in 4 1/2 years and it hadn’t really changed much. The remnants of your stay were no longer visible assured you that all of your stuff was placed safely in your old room.

Luckily Crowley had kept his word and would come to you whenever you said the magic words, no matter where you were. But over the past 4 1/2 years you’ve been through 7 foster homes and 2 group homes. You kept having issues with the other kids and you would say that you’d “sick a hellhound” on them. That didn’t end too well with one family of die hard catholics. They thought your were Satan incarnated a sent you right back to child care services. You had only been there for four days when that happened.

“Yes love. I promise.” Crowley assured.

“What about the whole ‘keeping me safe’ thing?” You asked.

“I still want to keep you safe, don’t forget that, but that’s why I’m giving you Juliet.” He answered, then whistled.

The large hellhound came bounding into the room, over to you, and started licking your face. Crowley had given you the ability to see her for your eighth birthday, saying she would be there for you if he couldn’t get to you right away.

You petted Juliet, scratching behind her ears then turned to Crowley. “Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around his midsection and squeezed. You were happy that you finally had someone that wanted you. You finally felt loved and safe.

“Anything for you sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you back then kissed the top of your head. “Happy tenth birthday Y/N.” He whispered into your ear.

Crowley had rescued you from your parents and taken you in, only for you to go into the system but now he wasn’t going to let you go. He learned from last time that he felt his heart breaking when had to let you go with the social worker. So over the years when he would visit you at your various foster homes he, himself, would only be happy when he saw your eyes light up. He knew you didn’t belong there but belonged with him. You were his family and he was yours, along with Juliet. It wasn’t big but it was enough.

~~~~

“Crowley! You said you wanted to see me?” You said walking into your father’s study. He looked your way and so did his two companions in the seats across from his desk. You stopped in your tracks. “Oh, I’m sorry. Boris said you wanted to see me when I got up for the day. I didn’t know you were in a meeting. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave but he stopped you.

“Y/N, no it’s okay.” He turned his attention back to his companions before saying, “We’ll talk more later.” Then snapped his fingers and they disappeared.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to..”

“Y/N, it’s okay. I wanted to see you when you got up. You were following directions darling.” He assured walking over to you.

You nodded. You hadn’t quite gotten over some quirks that your parents had instilled in you but they had lessened over the years some.

You had now been living with Crowley for 8 years and you had to say that they were the best years of your life. He taught you some basic “white” magic to use from the days of his human life from his mother before she abandoned him. He helped you with your homework after he enrolled you in a local private school. He even talked you through your first heartbreak, no matter how awkward that was. You thought it was funny when he offered to send a demon or two to play with them but you said that was a tad much. You were pretty happy with how your life was turning out after such a bad start.

You cleared your throat. “So you wanted to see me?” You asked.

“Yes. I have a gift for you.” He answered. He ushered you into the attached garage to the house where he stood you in front of a parking spot. “Close your eyes, I want it to be a surprise.”

You did as you were told and closed your eyes. It was quiet for a moment before you heard Crowley snap his fingers.

“Okay, you can look now.” He said. When he saw you open your eyes he exclaimed, “Happy Birthday!”

You were met with a ruby red 1967 Chevy Camaro. You felt your jaw drop and your eyes widen. You looked over at Crowley and asked, “This is for me?” He nodded with a wide smile on his face. “No way!” You went over to inspect the inside of the classic and saw that Crowley had the seats detailed with a crown in headrests. You smiled and ran over to hug your father. “Thank you so much.”

He hugged you back and then let you go. “I thought it would be a necessity for you to have a form of transportation for college.”

If the car wasn’t enough of a surprise, his words were. The two of you had been talking about college since the start of your senior year but he was worried something might happen to you. “So I actually get to go?”

He nodded. “Yes. You’ll be living in an apartment right off the campus.”

You were about to hug him again but stopped yourself. You gave him a skeptical look then asked, “But what’s the catch?”

He smiled, proudly at you. “Aww that’s my (boy/girl). Boris and Juliet are going with you.”

“Will the apartment be big enough?”

“Love, do you not know me?” He smirked. “Of course it will. There’ll be plenty of space for all three of you.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you.” You hugged him again then walked back over to the car and opened the door, getting behind the wheel. You slid your hands over the leather and sank into the soft cushions of the seat.

Crowley walked over to you and leaned on the opened car door. “How do you like it?”

“It’s amazing. But I do have to ask one thing. Where’d you get it?” You replied looking up at him. “Was it a deal?”

“Yes.” He said simply.

Your smile faded. “Dad, you know I don’t want stuff from dead people.” You said, quickly adding, “unless it’s something in the family.” He once tried to give you a watch from a person who had been wearing when the hellhounds came for them but you told him that you didn’t want it. It didn’t feel right. You told him to give it back to the person’s family.

“Darling, I know how you feel about this stuff. The previous owner of this car had a very little want. Why he would want to sell his soul for it, I don’t know. So I made him a different offer.” He motioned to the car. “And this is the end result.”

You smiled. He was changing his ways for you and you knew that it was probably rather had for him. He had been a demon for almost three hundred years before he came across you. “Thank you.” You said for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and it was still early.

You always thanked him for everything because he gave you everything. He gave you a family, a home, an education, and now a car. But most of all he gave you love. Love that you had been deprived of for so long.

You turned to look at him, “So can I take it out for a test drive?”

Crowley dug around his pockets before producing a set of keys with a black wing pendant attached to it.

You smirked taking the keys. You ran your thumb over the pendant. It was a symbol for him, showing that even in the early stages of adulthood he was still your guardian demon.

Crowley cleared his throat after a moment. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

You thought a moment and then remembered. “Oh right.” You whistled for your favourite hellhound and saw running through the garage to the passenger side door. You flicked your wrist, opening the door (a trick Crowley had taught you) and Juliet climbing into the seat. You closed the door with another flick of your wrist and then started the beauty up.

Crowley closed your door, saying. “Now remember, drive safe, wear your seatbelt, don’t speed, check your mirrors, and most importantly, I love you.”

You smiled before leaning out of the window giving your father a kiss on the cheek. “I love you too Dad.”

You sat back into your seat, buckled up, then started back out of the garage and onto the driveway. Before you drove away you looked over at Crowley standing in the entryway to the garage. You waved at him and he returned it. You drove away smiling, recalling the tears in his eyes knowing that you were going to tease the hell out of him about it when you got back home.

[amorluzymelodia]

Title: You’re Family

Author: Abby (amorluzymelodia)

Summary: Imagine having an abusive family and TFW busting in and saving you.

Word Count: 1623

Warnings: abuse (verbal), smashing things, shitty family life, yelling

A/N: Wrote this for a dear friend. Hope it’ll help those of you in this situation to escape even for a moment. As always you’re free to come talk to me if need be.

Fic/Link to fic:

Screaming. So much screaming. It seemed like it never stopped. From the moment you got home to the moment your body passed out it was like a damn war going on. Your mother and sister were constantly at one another’s throats, and more often than not you got dragged into it, leaving you with bruises, both physical and emotional.

You’d think school was a safe-haven, but no. You’d never really fit in, and to the kids around you all you were blissfully unaware of your shitty home life. Sure, there were rumors, but no one got close enough to find out if they were true or not. That was okay by you; why drag others down into your shithole with you? So you kept to yourself, hid in the corner of the lunchroom, and imagined you were safe, loved, home.

Home was far away in Lebanon, Kansas. Home was with a fallen angel, a high school dropout and a moose-sized man with floppy hair. Home was with the Winchesters and Castiel. They’d only been in your dopey little town for a week or two at most but in that time they’d become your saving grace.

They were hunters, they’d told you. They hunted the things in the dark, the monsters under your bed, and in your closet. When they’d passed through town there was a rouge ghoul feeding off the townsfolk. They’d ganked it easy enough, but not before it followed you into an alley and tried to take a chunk out of your leg first. The tall one—Sam—had carried you out to their motel and patched you up as best he could. Dean and Castiel had burned the body of the ghoul so as not to raise suspicion and had brought you back a burger and milkshake. Granted you weren’t all that hungry but they were kind and you accepted graciously.

After that you’d stayed with them for a day or so, until your leg healed Dean said but you secretly hoped they just liked having you around. Sam was kind and sweet and Dean had the best sense of humor of any man you’d ever met. Castiel, though a bit odd at first, grew on you and seemed to pick up on the small idiosyncrasies about you that no one else did. They grew to be your family in that small time, and when Dean handed you his phone number, along with Sam’s, with the promise that if you ever needed anything you could call, you thought your heart might stop.

But that was months ago, and though you’d shared texts with both boys and a few middle-of-the-night conversations, they hadn’t been back through town. They told you about their bunker in Kansas and every time they talked about it all you could imagine was a safe place, a warm place full of your boys and laughter. A home. And you wished more than anything you could see it for yourself.

Something smashed against the wall downstairs and you heard glass break, shocking you out of your seclusion. You heard your name called in anger and steeled yourself for the worst, but no one came upstairs. You huddled in a ball with a blanket over your head and pressed your hands over your ears, digging the headphones into your skull. You clutched at your phone desperately, reading and re-reading the text from Sam.

Just finished a case near you. Can we stop by and say hi?

You’d replied with your permission instantly and were waiting for them to call with the news that they were in town. You heard something else shatter and flinched, remembering the last time when it was your bones breaking not glass. You still had bruises from the last time your mom hit you, and truth be told you weren’t sure your bones every truly healed the way they were supposed to.

Your phone buzzed and you answered it quickly, barely even registering the screams coming from downstairs.

“Dean!” You cried, and even to your own ears your voice sounded manic.

“Hey Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked quickly. “You sound scared.”

“Dean they’re…they’re screaming again.” You hadn’t told they boys the entirety of your situation, only that your mother and sister fought sometimes and it scared you.

“Okay we’re on your street.” He said quickly. “Come outside, we’ll pick you up.”

You shook your head even though you knew he couldn’t see you. “They’ll see me, Dean. I can’t…I can’t do it.”

“Y/N you have to.” He insisted but you shook your head harder, crying now. You heard fuzz as the phone was moved around.

“Hey Y/N it’s Sam.” Sam sounded calmer than Dean. “We’re pulling up right now, do you want us to come in and get you?”

Your heart stopped. You didn’t want them in this house, they were good, and light and kind and this place was dark and tainted. But you had to get out, and they were offering it to you. You nodded before realizing Sam couldn’t see you do it.

“Y-yes.” You whispered. “Please.”

Sam said okay and hung up the phone. You pulled the blanket off and raced downstairs, but not before your mother was opening the door, revealing the two hunters.

“Who are you?” she demanded and Dean glared at her.

“We’re friend’s of Y/N’s.” Sam said and your mother turned on you.

“You didn’t ask permission to have anyone over,” she hissed. “And especially not people I’ve never met.”

“I—I’m sorry.” You whispered, folding in on yourself. “Maybe you guys should go.”

Dean shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, finding the bruise on your cheek and the ones around your wrist.

“Y/N walk over to me please.” He said, his voice calmer than you expected. You made to move but your mother threw out her arm to stop you, and you flinched.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded but turned at the sound of Dean cocking his gun.

“She’s coming with us, where she’ll be safe. This is no kind of place for her.” He growled and your mother backed away at the sight of his gun.

“She’s my daughter. She belongs here!” She shouted as Sam put his arms around you and let you out to the impala.

Dean kept the gun cocked until you were safely in the impala. And you heard him hiss at her before he slipped in.

“You’re no kind of mother. And she doesn’t belong with you.”

You sped down the road, cuddled in between Sam and Dean, Sam’s arms around you and Dean’s hand on your leg. And for the first time you were able to sleep without the help of pills or exhaustion.

When you woke up you were in an unfamiliar room, but the bed was soft and you heard breathing near you. Upon opening your eyes you saw Dean asleep in a chair next to you and Sam reading a book at the foot of your bed. Castiel was standing at the door like a guard dog.

“She’s awake.” He said and Sam slammed his book closed and rushed to your side, kicking Dean’s chair in the process, causing him to jolt awake.

“I’ve healed your bruises.” Castiel said, walking slowly over to you. “And calmed the nightmares for now. But I cannot heal all the emotional damage.”

You nodded and sat up. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Y/N why didn’t you tell us it was that bad?” Sam asked and you shrugged.

“I didn’t want to burden you guys with my shit. Besides I could handle it myself…most times.”

“Yeah the bruises really proved that.” Dean grumbled and Sam hit his leg. “Sorry Y/N I’m not mad at you, I just…it made me so mad to see her, yelling at you, treating you like shit. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. You deserve the world, and more.”

You actually got teary-eyed but wiped them away.

“Which is why….” Sam helped you up and put his hands over your eyes, with Cas guiding you with his hands on your waist. “We’ve invited you to move in!” he took his hands off your eyes and you gasped.

You could only assume you were in the bunker. There was a massive table in the middle of the room with blinking lights and a map, an intricate metal staircase and what looked like a huge library through the back. It was more beautiful than you could ever imagine.

“It’s not much,” Sam said, scratching his neck. “But it’s ours, and yours if you want it.”

“Not much?” Dean shoved Sam out of the way. “Sammy doesn’t appreciate this place like I do. It has a real life kitchen, the oldest computer ever, hundreds of records about every evil thing ever, and a freaking dungeon!”

You actually cracked a smile at how excited he was. This was his home and he was sharing it with you.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’d get your own room, of course. And we’d be here most of the time, except when we have to go on hunts but—“

“But I’ve offered to stay with you on those occasions.” Castiel added, smiling at you. “That is if you don’t mind my telling you some angel stories.”

“Yeah and we can do movie nights in the viewing room, and I’ll even teach you how to cook!” Dean exclaimed and you felt yourself getting teary again.

“It’s our home,” Sam said quietly and your eyes fell on his. “And we’d like to share it with you.”

“But….why?” you asked quietly, hardly believing these wonderful men were offering this to you.

“Because Y/N,” Dean said, smiling at you. “You’re family.”

[amorluzymelodia]

For those of you waiting for chapter 2 of "Never In Fact Homeless" I promise it is coming! It's been a rough few weeks so I'm getting back in the swing of things before writing any more! But don't worry it is on it's way!