#I have a curse. I love drawing characters from a top down angle bc they look so goofy—

[hana-bobo-finch]

what a precious little guy. i hope nothing bad ever happens to him

[samwinlover-blog]

Sleep in my sweater P3

Part One Here Part Two Here

Pairing: Sam x reader Characters: Sam, the reader, unnamed driver, mention of Dean  Warnings: light swearing, angst, violence, gore (yeah guys this one gets real) Word count: 1233 Tag list: @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @cleverdame @samwinchesterfluffandsmut @spnfanficpond @spnfanfic @writingthingsisdifficult @winchesterfics @samwinchesterficrecs @spnf @spnficlibrary dancingpanda137 Summary: The reader and Sam want to get breakfast together, but the drive doesn’t exactly go as expected.  A/N: Yes, that’s all I’m going to tell you in the summary bc I want your jaws to DROP when the plot twist happens;) Love, Sam 

Masterlist Here!

The ride to the diner Sam had mentioned earlier was sleepy at best. Both of you were tired from the night before, and the sheer laziness of the town wasn’t helping. Everything the Impala passed was generic, bland even. Smiling families with two kids and fresh faced parents walking happily down the sidewalk, parks and playgrounds void of people just stood there in utter stillness- serving absolutely no purpose. It was all boring, nothing about this town was wild- or even a little rebellious. The only thing that made it out of the ordinary was the unnamed monster terrorizing its citizens, and even that remained hidden in the shadows until it was too late.

“How far away did you say this place was?” You glanced over at Sam before unintentionally yawning.

The taller Winchester gave you a lazy smile, his eyes never leaving the road as he said, “Not that much further, promise.”

“You said that 10 minutes ago,” You were getting coy, and you knew it. Dragging a finger through a few strands of your hair and crossing your legs, you waited to see how he would respond.

“Okay, smartass, you wanna drive?” He chuckled back, leaning over to elbow your shoulder- exactly the reaction you wanted. He was flirting back. Or was he? You could never tell if it was just platonic or if he got something else out of these types of conversations- like you did.

You laughed and nudged him back, “Yeah, I’m definitely a better driver.”

The car swerved to the right and he quickly moved his hand from your shoulder to regain control, but not before you had yelled, “See?!”

A dark smile- similar to the one from the night before- stretched across his face as he said, “Fine, let’s settle it then. I seem to remember you saying you were better at poker last night?”

You nodded, not fully understanding what he was getting at.

“Okay, then let’s play and whoever wins is right.” His grin was positively wicked now, and you decided to play along.

“Fine, and when I win you have to go to bars with Dean and I for three weeks.” It was no secret that the divebars you and Dean loved eating and drinking at weren’t Sam’s favorite places in the world. He’d practically growled the last time you’d asked him to go with you. It wasn’t that Sam couldn’t handle the rowdiness of these places- you’d known him for a number of years and at that point you were certain there was nothing he couldn’t handle- he just didn’t like them. He didn’t really talk about it, but if you had to guess you would say that his life was crazy enough already- and sometimes he just needed to wind down from it all. You didn’t blame him, even though you saw the bars the exact opposite way. They were your winding down, how you destressed from the insane life you led- Dean’s too. You’d drink and dance and get positively lost in the music and crowds of people. Young, old, short, tall, it didn’t matter. Because those nights were just blurs of old leather bar stools and cheap liquor, none of it mattered to you.

He groaned and rolled his eyes, “Come on, pick something else.”

“No way, that’s what I want. What? Scared you’re going to lose?” You saw that same devilish grin from before creep back onto his face.

“Okay, fine. And when I win- OH SHIT!” Sam yelled as the car swerved off the side of the road as it was met with some crushing force you couldn’t identity. You felt yourself being thrown across the front seat, your seat belt being the only thing stopping you from hurdling through the windshield. A deafening clang and the undeniable sound of metal scraping metal rang through your head. The Impala spun onto its side and skidded for what felt like miles.

It was all a blur, but in reality only lasted for about 5 seconds. And when the car finally stilled you found yourself on your side, still tightly strapped in place. Smoke poured from the top of the car, and eventually escaped through the shattered windows. With a slight wince and a raise of your hand, you found a deep gash spanning across your forehead. Red blurred the edges of your vision as you grunted and turned to look at Sam, who was in worse shape than you were.

He was knocked out cold, god you hoped he was just knocked out. And not….. You weren’t going to think about the alternative. His head was resting back on the seat behind him and steady streams of red poured from his nose, lip and forehead. They ran down his face, creating a gruesome, striped pattern all the way down to his neck. You checked him over with your eyes and he didn’t appear to have any broken bones, thank Chuck. But he was in no shape to move, so that fell on you.

With a groan you fumbled for your seatbelt, feeling every muscle in your arm ache from the movement. When you found it and clicked yourself free, the ache only grew. The Impala was flipped on its side, and glass from the shattered windows was raining down on both you and Sam. You felt the shard’s small pricks on your skin even after you’d stumbled out from the car.

Looking around you found nobody else at first, no other signs of life or whatever the hell had hit you. But then, at second glance, you spotted another car further down the road. It was a complete wreck. The front was twisted and contorted at the most grotesque angles, you didn’t even know metal could bend like that before that morning. You wanted to know if the other driver was okay, or if they’d even survived, but Sam had to be your top priority. So, with a small gasp, you willed your feet to walk around to the other side of the car.

“Sam?!” You called out, voice utterly raw- most likely from inhaling so much smoke from the hood of the car.

Stumbling to the other side of the Impala, you lost your footing and grabbed the shattered window for support. Bad move. Pain instantly spread through your hands as the different sized shards of glass found their homes in your palms, and you gasped aloud. Up until that point you’d had so much adrenaline pumping through your body that you’d basically been numb, but not anymore. You felt it, everything, and it was almost too much. Pain was roaring through your forehead, clawing and gnashing so loudly that you couldn’t bring yourself to think. You couldn’t bring yourself to form a single thought other than, is Sam okay? You felt every bruise and scrape from being thrown across the Impala and your knees buckled. No, this can’t happen right now, you cursed yourself- you had to keep going. You had to get to Sam, and you had to know if he was even alive.

But before you could force yourself back up, you once again were on the ground- hitting the pavement hard. Maybe hard enough to draw even more blood. On your hands and knees you gasped loudly before feeling yourself slip wholly into unconsciousness, muttering Sam’s name like a prayer the entire time.